and he grabbed me—"
"You fuckin' bitch! That's not true!"
"Shut up, Tank." Drejohn ordered.
"I broke away and ran in here. I was able to lock the door, but he smashed it down." Tiffany uselessly tried pulling the remnants of the robe across her breasts and when that failed, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and hung her head, crying.
"Take him to the hole," Drejohn said harshly, looking at Tank.
"Drejohn, you can't believe that bitch. I didn't do anything!" The three big guys grabbed Tank and murmured for him to quiet down as they hustled him out of the room. Tiffany lifted her head a little now that Tank was gone.
Drejohn waved a dismissive hand at the remainder of the group. "Get outta here! Go on 'bout your business." The crowd scurried like cockroaches. As they moved away, Tiffany could hear people quietly recounting the incident.
Now it was her turn. Drejohn walked over and stopped in front of her. He looked her up and down. Standing almost naked, she was desperate to quiet her pounding heart but it was impossible. She worried he'd see her fear and it would excite him.
"Tank's been with me for a long time. In all those years, he's never betrayed me." Drejohn lifted his finger to her face and gently touched the side of her mouth while he stared into her eyes, as if to reach her soul. "I'll have to punish him…harshly."
Maneuvering his hand so her chin was lightly supported in his palm, he squeezed tight as if branding her skin. Tears filled her eyes and she knew she'd wake up with more bruises on her face.
"If I find out you're lying, you'll get everything Tank got. And then I'm going to give you to him."
MADDIE – 42
Darius returned from Larry-the-Wife-Beater's office looking unscathed and sat down at his desk.
"What did he want?" I asked, hanging up from a phone call.
"Nothing."
Could Darius actually think I'd take that as an answer? "What? You and the Wife-Beater are keeping secrets now?"
"Maddie, it's nothing. It doesn't involve you."
"Does it concern you?" I asked.
He shrugged.
I'd worked with Darius for almost three years, and I'd grown used to his close-mouthed personality. But I didn't like being shut out, and, it's a crappy way to treat a partner. But I figured that wasn't the tact to take.
"Well, whatever it is, if it concerns you, it involves me."
"You're not going to let this alone are you?"
Wow, that was easy. "No I'm not."
"It's really no big deal."
I'll be the judge of that, I thought, and if it weren't a big deal you wouldn't be acting this way. I gave him a pointed stare so he'd continue.
"He thinks we're a bad influence on each other, that we've been working together too long. After the McCall and Truesdale cases are closed, he's going to move me to work in the Mental Evaluation Unit."
"He can't do that!"
"Yes he can. MEU is within his scope of command, so he can put me in there and bring someone from there into Missing Persons to work with you."
"Well, why do you have to go? Why not me?"
A quick smile broke my partner's somber expression. "He knew you'd make a lot more noise about being moved. He took the path of least resistance. Besides, he's afraid you'll make it into a 'woman' issue."
"You know what I think? I think he's more of a wussy woman than I'll ever be." I looked at the notes I'd jotted down talking to Candice Murphy of Saint Peter's Hospital about Heather McCall. "A lot can happen between now and the time we close these cases. Let's get these girls found and then we'll deal with Larry."
I filled Darius in about Bain not playing nice. Then I told him about my conversation with Candice Murphy at the hospital.
"The Murphy woman didn't have much information that she could give me. She said that she'd been trying to contact Heather to set up some final tests related to the transplant. After a week, when she couldn't get a hold of Heather, she called Truesdale's office and got put through to Bain."
"Was she willing to fax the medical records over to us?"
I shook my head. "She quoted that HIPAA stuff too. But she did give me the address Heather listed for the place she worked. I was just about to check it out."
"Where is it?" Darius asked.
"West LA, which seems like a long hard drive just to take care of some kids. Aren't there any nanny jobs closer to home in the valley?"
I used a popular computer mapping system to get a satellite image of the address Heather had listed as her place of employment. "Uh oh."
Darius got up and moved over to my desk and looked at the screen. "Shit," he whispered.
I zoomed in closer on the image. An image of a gas station.
"Now what?" said Darius.
"I hate to say it, but I think we still need to go over there and show Heather's picture around. No one can say we didn't do our job." I looked at my watch and sighed. "It really sucks, because we're going to hit rush hour traffic on our way back."
Darius shook his head. "Well, after we check out the gas station, we can cruise up the coast a ways. I know a great little hole-in-the-wall that sits right on the ocean. I'll buy you dinner."
"And why would you do that?"
"We'll be killing time until the traffic dissipates and who knows how many more meals we're going to be able to share as partners."
I nodded knowing Darius made sense. And for about the hundredth time today, I told myself that Larry-the-Wife-Beater was a brown-nosing, dumber than a rock, lower than whale shit, horse's ass.
TRAVIS – 43
Andrea Bocelli crooned Italian through the speakers and filled the family room and kitchen with music of love and passion. Travis was surprised to find that, for the first time since Dave's death he was having fun. He'd donned his apron emblazoned 'BBQ naked – show off your buns,' and was actually singing along with Bocelli although his mastery of the foreign language left something to be desired. But who the hell cared?
Slicing Italian sausage into small three-inch lengths, he added them into his spaghetti sauce. Maddie was sure to notice the effort he'd put into the meal. Travis took another sip of his wine. A superb Cabernet. He eyed the bottle for a few seconds, then poured a generous amount into the sauce.
Stirring the concoction more, he pulled a spoon out of a drawer and took a small taste. "Divine, you are one damn fine chef," he said aloud to himself. "I just hope Maddie gets home before too long. I'm starvin'." He couldn't help himself; he dipped his spoon again. The sauce was the best he'd ever tasted. "Ah, Maddie darlin' if a little wine, some fine food and some long overdue cuddling doesn't get us on track, I don't know what will."
Turning the flame low beneath the Dutch oven, Travis poured a little more wine into his glass and sat down to wait for Maddie.
MADDIE – 44
Darius and I headed west on the 10 Freeway toward Santa Monica. He was driving because, when I'm mad, I drive like a crazy woman. Traffic wasn't horrible, but we weren't breaking any speed records either. I could see eastbound traffic was beginning to build.
There was something weird in the air, I'm guessing because we were both upset with the Wife-Beater's news that once we'd finished this case we'd be split up. Neither of us had much to say, which was normal for Darius, but not for me. I made a stab at shattering the silence. "I wonder why Heather gave an address for a gas station as her place of employment?"
"She didn't want anyone to know where she really worked," Darius said. He didn't take his gaze off the cars ahead speeding, cutting each other off, and braking with gusto. No one in L.A. drives like they're supposed to.
"So, what does that mean? She's a drug dealer or a stripper? Truthfully, I think we're spinning our wheels driving all the way to Santa Monica. The gas station guy won't recognize Heather's picture. But at least we've covered our asses."
"We can ask around at some neighboring businesses and cover all our bases. If no one knows her…we'll get dinner up the coa
st."
We exited the freeway at Lincoln Boulevard and the gas station we were seeking was right on the corner. It didn't take us ten minutes to talk to the clerk, show Heather's picture and learn he'd never seen her before. We left a copy of the photo along with our business cards and asked him to check with the other employees and customers. If anyone knew Heather, they could give us a call. We checked neighboring businesses, but came up empty there too.
Getting back in the silver Crown Vic, there was an awkward quiet as we buckled our seatbelts.
"So, do you want to go home, or are you hungry?" Darius asked.
I thought carefully for a few moments then finally spoke. "I'm hungry as hell, but I'd better go home. Travis is waiting. "
Darius nodded, "You know, we both should go home and get a good night's sleep. I have a feeling we'll both be busting our asses tomorrow."
I may be going home, I thought, but with the way I left things with Travis, I doubt I'll be getting a good night's sleep.
After our ride battling the traffic on the 10 Freeway, Darius and I finally pulled into the parking lot at the PAB about eight-thirty. He whipped the silver Crown Vic into one of the spaces assigned to the Missing Persons Unit.
Darius put the car in park, shut off the engine and turned to me. "So the plan is we'll both go home and get a good night's rest and hit the ground running in the morning, right?"
I nodded. I was tired, and although I knew my husband was waiting for me, I really didn't want to go home. I slowly got out of the car.
"All right then," said my partner. "Are you going up to the office? Can you turn in