scrawny comic from the bar?”
“Yes, if you must know.”
He snorted. “What do you see in him?”
“He makes me laugh. Let go of my hand, Brian.”
“Bet he’s not as good as I was.”
“You’re a legend in your own mind. But nobody else’s.”
His mouth thinned. He made a grab for her; she swung sideways, grasped his upper arms and kneed him square in the nuts.
He doubled over, moaning and muttering a string of curses, all directed at her and her gender.
“Sorry, Brian. I didn’t want to do that, but you left me no choice.” As he started to straighten, she opened the door and pushed him through it. “I’m willing to pretend this never happened. But if you ever try this crap again, it’ll cost you more than sore balls.”
39
Thursday, March 16, 2006
11:00 p.m.
As she’d threatened Kitt that she would, M.C. had taken a stand. Kitt had faced the chief alone, her partner’s absence pointedly noted. Sal was sharp. He suspected something was up but had supervised detectives long enough to understand the wisdom of giving them space. Most issues eventually resolved themselves, one way or another. And if they hadn’t, he’d stepped in with appropriate action.
What the chief didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. At least at this juncture.
Or so Kitt told herself.
She didn’t blame M.C. her decision. If this blew up in Kitt’s face, her partner didn’t want to be taken down with her. As M.C. had said, she had ambitions.
But if they cracked this case, nailed the SAK and the Copycat, M.C. would take part of the credit. Even if it was directly a result of the “left of protocol” move M.C. so strongly protested, she would move up her rung.
Kitt would be happy for her; everybody would win-but especially the children.
Kitt sat at her kitchen table, files spread around her. Her mind raced. The chief had agreed-study the Olsen, Lindz and McGuire case files, look for a commonality between them and the SAK killings, something the original investigating officers missed. Brian and Sergeant Haas had worked it. That’d been just before she and Brian had been partnered up; Sal had been sergeant then.
Kitt frowned. She was starting to understand this bastard. This time, she was going to nail him. If it was the last thing she did in this lifetime, his ass was going down.
She pushed away from the table, stood and stretched. Her body ached, and the muscles in her neck and back were knotted. She rolled her shoulders in an effort to loosen them, then tipped her head from side to side.
It momentarily relieved the tension, and she began to pace.
Three old ladies, beaten to death. Vicious murders. Gruesome. Scenes surprisingly clean, considering. One had lived in an assisted-living community, one in an apartment, another a home. All had lived alone. None had been sexually assaulted. Robbery had not been a motive. No witnesses. No hair, fingerprints or bodily fluids.
Frustrated, she turned and strode back to the table. Her doorbell sounded and she glanced at the clock. It was after eleven, late for a visitor.
Danny, she saw when she went to the door. He stood in the circle of light, looking tired and tense.
“Danny?” she said as she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She stepped aside and he entered her small foyer. After she closed the door behind him, she nodded toward the kitchen. “I have a pot of coffee brewed.”
He followed her, though he refused the drink. “I’m coffeed-out.”
She poured herself a cup, aware of him watching her, then turning his gaze to the case files.
“Your hands are shaking,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m probably coffeed-out, too.”
“Then maybe you should cut yourself off?”
“I’ve got a lot to do. I need the caffeine if I’m going to make it.”
“I’m worried about you, Kitt.”
“Me? Why?”
“What day is this?”
She stared at him, realizing she didn’t know. Or rather, she couldn’t access the information.
“It’s Thursday, Kitt.”
AA. She had missed group.
“I’m so sorry. I was working…it totally slipped my mind.”
He took her cup and set it on the counter, then caught both her hands with his, holding them tightly. “The other night, when I called. You’d been drinking.”
She wanted to deny it, but to deny it would be as bad as the drinking itself. “Yes.”
“And tonight you skipped group.”
“Forgot, didn’t skip. There’s a difference.”
He said nothing. He didn’t need to speak, his expression said it all.
She hurried to reassure him. “It was just that once, I swear. It’s not going to happen again.”
“Before you fell off the wagon, wouldn’t you have sworn it couldn’t happen at all? That you had a handle on it?”
“That was before…something happened. Joe…his fiancee has a daughter. A ten-year-old.”
Her friend’s expression softened with understanding. And regret. For her. “Kitt, damn…I’m so sorry.”
Danny, like her other AA friends, knew her heart. They knew all her hurts and fears, all the things that had sent her into the bottle in the first place.
He brought his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.
And tired. So very tired.
“It hurt so bad,” she said, voice small. “I felt…feel so betrayed.”
He gently rubbed her back, rhythmically smoothing his fingers over her knotted muscles.
“He’s replacing Sadie,” she murmured, tipping her face up toward his. “And I can’t bear the thought…I can’t bear the thought of them all living together, being a family.”
“But drinking isn’t going to make it better. It only masks the pain. And when you come off the binge, you feel worse.”
“I know, Danny, and I promise you, I’m not falling back into the trap.”
He searched her expression. “You’re particularly vulnerable right now. You need us, more than ever.”
“I’m fine. I-”
“Fine? You’re not! Jesus, Kitt, you’re an alcoholic. You can’t just turn it on and off. It’ll grab a hold of you again and-”
“It won’t. I have it under control.” She saw that he meant to argue with her and went on. “I can’t think about anything but the case right now. It consumes my every waking thought. I have to catch him, Danny.”
He took a step back from her. “Listen to yourself. Don’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you recognize what’s happening to you?”
“Yeah, I recognize it. I’m alive again. I have purpose. Resolve. And you know what? I like it.”
“That’s addictive behavior. You’re substituting one compulsion for another.”
“You don’t understand the nature of police work.”
“That may be, but I understand the nature of addiction.” She tried to turn away; he stopped her. “Are you sleeping? Taking time to eat? Real food, not crap? And what about downtime? Catching a movie or calling a friend?”
