Justice Served Part 16

Yeah, that's it. That's all I want from you." When she braced an arm on the sofa and pushed up, struggling to stand on her weak leg, Sandy tugged on the back of her jeans and pulled her back down.

"Look, I'm sorry." Sandy huffed out a breath. "I don't know what to do. I don't...I don't want anybody to touch me except you."

The tension ebbed from Mitch.e.l.l's body in one blessed rush. "I love you."

"That won't get me breakfast, Dell." Sandy's voice was soft as she spoke.

"Then let me buy you breakfast."

"I'm not talking about just breakfast."

Mitch.e.l.l wrapped an arm around Sandy's shoulders and held her tightly, pressing her lips to the top of Sandy's head. "Neither am I."

"I don't think we better talk about this anymore right now."

"Making you nervous?"

"Big time."

"I'm not going to give up, you know," Mitch.e.l.l murmured.

"You mean it?" Sandy tried but couldn't keep the tremor of need from her voice.

"Oh yeah, I mean it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, you can bug me about the life...if you want to. Just...not all the time."

"Where did you go tonight?"

"Nowhere special." Sandy tugged Mitch.e.l.l's T-shirt from her * 112 *

Justice Served jeans and slid her hand beneath, playing her ngertips along the curve of Mitch.e.l.l's ribs. "Just around."

"San. Don't blow me off, okay?"

"I checked out a few places on the strip. Then down on Delaware at the Blue Diamond."

"The Blue Diamond?" Mitch.e.l.l's voice hardened. "Jesus. That's one of Zamora's places. What were you doing there?"

"Looking for Trudy."

"For Frye." The way Mitch.e.l.l said it, it wasn't a question.

"Maybe."

Agitated, Mitch.e.l.l rubbed her hand up and down Sandy's bare arm. "You gotta be careful, honey. People are going to be on edge because of the bust. Looking for something that's off. Don't go asking around for her right now."

"You think I'm dumb, Dell? You think I made it this long without you by being stupid?" Sandy pulled away. "Jesus. Sometimes you are just as bad as a guy."

"Whoa. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean just because we're f.u.c.king I don't need you to take care of me."

"What if I want to?"

"Not if you're going to be a pain in the a.s.s about everything."

"What if I want you to take care of me?"

Sandy caught her breath. "Do you?"

"Sometimes, yeah, I think I do."

"f.u.c.k, Dell." Sandy settled back against her, seeking the warmth of her skin with her ngers again. "I...you know...I love you too, rookie."

"I missed you while you were gone tonight."

Sandy kissed Mitch.e.l.l's shoulder, then rested her cheek on the spot. "Why did your sister come today?"

"I don't know. She said it was because...she wanted to make sure I was okay."

"How come you don't sound like you believe her?"

"Because she doesn't care if I'm okay."

"How do you know?" Sandy stroked Mitch.e.l.l's stomach, dipping her ngers beneath the waistband of her jeans where they rode low over her hips.

* 113 *

RADCLY fFE Unconsciously, Mitch.e.l.l lifted her hips into the touch. "She stopped caring two years ago."

"What did she do?"

"She followed the rules," Mitch.e.l.l murmured softly, reaching for the b.u.t.ton on her jeans.

"Dell, baby, what..."

"I don't want to talk right now," Mitch.e.l.l said, pushing Sandy's hand deeper into her jeans. She closed her eyes, wanting only the solace of Sandy's touch. "Please, honey."

"Shh," Sandy crooned, stroking tenderly as Mitch.e.l.l gave a small cry. "It's okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay."

* 114 *

Justice Served

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Thursday At 7:20, Rebecca settled in her usual place at the conference table in Sloan's of ce, struggling to ignore the faint headache building behind her eyes. She hadn't had more than a few hours' sleep a night in over a week, but it wasn't the lack of rest that was wearing on her. It was the case. There was something she was missing, had been missing since the day she'd looked down on Jeff's and Jimmy's bodies, and, whatever it was, it still eluded her. The investigation had splintered in too many directions too quickly. From the very beginning, her focus had been fragmented. Jeff had been killed in the midst of a madman's serial-murder spree, and she hadn't been able to pursue her partner's killer while hunting a maniac. She'd had to keep working, and she had been able to do little more than bury her shock and pain over Jeff's death.

Then she'd been shot, nearly died, and had fallen in love, all in the course of a few weeks.

As soon as she returned to duty- too soon by all accounts-the "desk job" she'd been a.s.signed to led to a mora.s.s of underground criminal activity ranging from Internet p.o.r.nography to child prost.i.tution.

And now she had to ferret out the mole in the police department who had very likely orchestrated the murder attempt on Sloan, crack the prost.i.tution ring that had supplied the young girls for the p.o.r.n videos, and discover why two cops had been executed. Still too many threads with nothing to connect them.

She sighed, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

"Rough night?" Sloan asked.

"A few of them." Rebecca might not have admitted that to anyone but Sloan, but in many ways they were equals on the job. Whatever Sloan had done for the government in her past life, Rebecca had no doubt that she'd been the team leader, not one of the troops. Rolling her * 115 *

RADCLY fFE head on the chair back, she surveyed Sloan's rumpled shirt and pasty complexion. "You look a little ragged yourself."

Grunting in agreement, Sloan slumped across from Rebecca with her own cup of coffee cradled between her hands. "Just got home."

"Were you at Police Plaza all night?"

Sipping her coffee, Sloan nodded.

Rebecca sat up straighter. "Anything?"

"I know who it is."

Rebecca was suddenly very much awake, ashing back to the last time Sloan had thought she'd discovered the person behind the murder attempt that had nearly killed Michael. Sloan had come close to taking matters into her own hands. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Just put the pieces together."

"And?"

Sloan met Rebecca's gaze head-on. "No one's dead yet."

"Good," Rebecca said gruf y, the tension in her chest dissipating.

"Am I going to like this?"

"Like I thought, it's not a cop."

"What isn't?" Watts asked, as he lumbered into the room and made straight for the coffeepot.

"You'll nd out in a minute," Rebecca informed him. "Let's wait until everyone's here, and then we'll bring the team up to speed."

Grunting a.s.sent, Watts shuf ed toward the table with his coffee in one hand and two doughnuts in the other. "Who sets all this stuff up, anyhow?"

From the doorway, Jason replied, "I do."

"You'll make somebody a great wife," Watts mumbled around a mouthful of jelly and dough.

"I already have the wardrobe."

Watts sputtered and choked, inspiring Sloan to pound him on the back as she laughed. He was still wheezing when Mitch.e.l.l arrived, walking slowly but without her cane.

"How's the leg, Detective?" Rebecca asked as she rose to re ll her coffee. She lifted a cup in Mitch.e.l.l's direction and scrutinized her.

"It's ne, Lieutenant. Thank you." Mitch.e.l.l did her best to hide the limp as she moved as quickly as she could to the counter next to Rebecca. "I can get that, ma'am. But thanks."

* 116 *

Justice Served Rebecca raised a brow. "I thought we dispensed with the formalities a while back."

"Yes, ma'am...Lieutenant." Mitch.e.l.l took the offered cup of coffee.

"Good to see you up and around."

"I should be ready for full duty anytime now."

"I want it in writing. From Torveau and..." Rebecca shot a look over her shoulder toward the others gathered at the table and lowered her voice. "Whoever else you're seeing."

"Dr. Rawlings." Mitch.e.l.l held Rebecca's gaze, searching for a reaction.

Rebecca merely nodded. "Good enough. Now, let's get this meeting started."

Mitch.e.l.l maneuvered into a seat next to Jason as Rebecca returned to the head of the table and said, "So, where do we stand? Watts?"

Watts gulped down the last of his second doughnut and cleared his throat. "The stakeouts have pretty much been a bust. Neither Campbell or Beecher has done anything even a little bit suspicious. Considering our lack of manpower, I say we can that detail."

"We'll come back to that in a minute. Anything else?"

"Charlie Horton and Trish Marks's homicide investigation into Hogan and Cruz's murders went nowhere. For all practical purposes, they've pretty much cold-cased the les. I got nothing from talking to the guys in narco about what Jimmy was into-nothing that we didn't get from the rst round of interviews, anyhow. If someone there was running him, no one knew who it was. More likely, he was reporting directly to the feds and giving everyone else just enough to avoid suspicion."

"I'll take another run at Clark myself," Rebecca said stonily. "If he's holding something back now, then he'd better have a very good reason for it."

Watts muttered a disparaging observation about Clark's lineage, then continued, "The only other thing I got was the possible lead at Port Authority."

"Go ahead and ll in the others," Rebecca advised.

Watts recounted his trip to the property room, his discovery of a few of Hogan's un led papers, and the undercover detective's interest * 117 *

RADCLY fFE in activity at the Port of Philadelphia. "We're gonna take a run down there today to check things out."