Kovacliska - Ashes To Ashes Part 41

Kovac had called on his way to the community center where the meetinghad been held. A car fire in the parking lot. Reports of someone in thevehicle.

Angie.

No one knew at this point, of course, but the thought that it could beAngie burned in Kate's mind as she ran for the garage, fumbling in her pocket for her keys.

Quinn had given her an earful of his opinion on her garage. Terriblelocation. Poorly lit. Left her vulnerable. All of which was true, butshe didn't have time to think about it. Anyone wanting to mug her orrape her would just have to wait.

G.o.d help her if she got pulled over en route, she thought as she hit thelight switch. She probably had no business getting behind the wheel of avehicle at all, but she wasn't waiting for a ride. No one was on thestreets this time of night anyway. It wasn't five minutes to thatcommunity center.

She was halfway to the 4Runner before she realized the garage lighthadn't come on.

The realization held her up a step, a fraction of a second in which timeall her senses sharpened and her heart gave an exaggerated thump. Shehit the key for the remote lock, and the truck's interior lit up. Keepmoving, she thought. If she kept moving, she wasn't allowing anopportunity for anyone to stop her. A ridiculous notion, but she grabbedon to it, yanked the door of the truck open, and hauled herself up intothe driver's seat.

In a quick succession of moves, she locked the doors, started theengine, punched on the four-wheel drive, and put the truck in gear. Itrocked back into the snow, pulling to the left. The exterior mirrormissed disaster by a fraction of an inch. The back b.u.mper kissed theneighbor's privacy fence, then she was rolling forward, the enginerevving loudly. She pulled the wheel too hard as she hit the street andskidded sideways, just whispering past the front end of a black Lexusparked on the street.

Stupid to rush, she thought, fighting the sense of desperation, tryingto lighten her foot on the accelerator. Whoever it was in that burningcar would not be going anywhere, but still the urgency burned in herveins, in her gut. If there was any chance of discounting her fear-andthereby absolving herself of one stone of guilt-she wanted to grab it.

The street in front of the community center was clogged with emergencyvehicles, red, white, and blue lights rolling like so many carnivalrides.

Mixed in among them were the omnipresent news vans, spilling reportersand cameramen and equipment. The house-to-house canva.s.s had alreadybegun, rousing neighbors from their beds. Overhead, a state patrolchopper cruised above the rooftops, spotlight washing down on lawns andshining in windows, flashing briefly over a pair of K-9 dogs and theirofficers.

If Smokey Joe had driven the car to the lot to set it ablaze, then itfollowed that he had left on foot. There was a good chance he lived inor near this neighborhood. Not five minutes from Kate's, though shedidn't let herself think about that now.

She slid the 4Runner in behind the KMSP van, slammed it into park, andabandoned it sitting c.o.c.keyed to the curb. Despite the hour, some of theneighbors had come out of their homes to get the scoop and to furtherclutter the periphery of the scene. One of them could have been thekiller, come back to recharge his batteries watching the resulting chaos his act had touched off. There was no way of knowing, and Kate had sether priority elsewhere. She dodged through the gathering throng, b.u.mpingshoulders, pushing, shoving.

Her eyes were on the emergency personnel working inside a circle ofuniformed cops some distance away from the burned-out car. Theparamedics swarmed around the victim, snapping off 'rapid-firemedicalese.

One of the uniforms caught Kate by the arm as she tried to pa.s.s, and held her back.

"Sorry, ma'am. Authorized personnel only- "I'm with victim services.

I've got ID."

"This one ain't gonna need you. He's toast."

"He?"

The cop shrugged. "It. Who can tell?"

Kate's stomach double-clutched. Oh, Jesus, Angie. "Where's Kovac?"

"He's busy, ma'am. If you'll just step over to the side-"

"Don't 'little lady' me," Kate snapped. "I've got cause to be here."

"I can vouch for her, Officer," Quinn said, holding up his ID. "Better let her go before you lose a hand."

The cop scowled at the order and at the FBI ID, but relinquished hishold. Kate bolted for the paramedics. Four steps closer, then Quinncaught her from behind and pulled her up short, holding tight as shefought to twist away from him.

"Let me go!"

"Let's find out what Kovac knows. If this is Smokey Joe, then there should be an ID around here somewhere."

"No. I have to see!"

"It's going to be bad, Kate."

"I know that. I've seen it before. G.o.d, what haven't I seen?"

Nothing. She'd spent years poring over photographs of unspeakable

horror. She knew every evil thing one human being could do to another.

Still, there was nothing quite like the stark, raw reality of an actual

crime scene. Photographs never captured the sounds, the electricity in the air, the smell of death.

The smell of burnt flesh was horrific, and it hit her in the face like a

club, the sensation it caused something akin to pain. Her stomach,already rolling on anxiety and half a tank of gin, pitched its contentsup the back of her throat, and she nearly turned and vomited. It felt asif her knees turned to water. She couldn't understand why she didn'tfall, then realized Quinn had hold of her again, his arms wrapped around her from behind. She sank back against him and made a mental note tochide herself for it later.

Of the hundreds of victims she'd seen, none had potentially been someoneshe'd known.

Hideously charred and half melted, the body lay on one side, limbs bentand fused into a sitting position. The heat of the fire had to have beenincredible. The hair was gone, the nose was gone; the lips were twistedand burned away, revealing the teeth in a macabre grimace.

The sternum was exposed, white bone shining where the thin layer offlesh had been seared away, The uniform had been right: At a glancethere was no determining gender, except that the sc.r.a.ps of fabric thatclung to the back of the body might have once been women's clothing -apiece of pink sweater, a swatch of skirt.

A burly paramedic with soot on his face looked up and shook his head.

"This one's for the bonepicker. She was long gone before we got here."

Kate's head swam. She kept trying to think of what to do, how to know ifit was Angie. The ideas seemed to bend and elongate and swoop throughher brain.

Dental records were out of the question. They didn't know who the h.e.l.lAngie Dimarco was or where she had come from. There were no parents whocould give them dental records or medical records that might havepointed out old bone fractures to look for when the body was X-rayed.There were no personal effects to pick through.

Eartings. Angie wore earrings.

The ears of the corpse had been burned down to charred nubs.

Rings. She had half a dozen, at least.

The hands of the corpse were black and curled like monkey's paws.

It looked as if there were fingers missing.

A shudder went through Kate that had nothing to do with the cold.

Quinn drew her away a step at a time.

"I don't know," she mumbled, still staring at the body. The toes werepointed like a gymnast's, a result of tendons constricting. "I don'tknow."

She was shaking so badly, Quinn could feel it through her heavy woolcoat. He pulled her out of the traffic flow and pushed her hair from herface, tipping her head back so that she had to look up. Her face wasashen beneath the sodium vapor lights of the parking lot. She stared upat him, her eyes gla.s.sy with shock and dread. He wanted nothing more atthat moment than to pull her close and hold her tight.

"Are you all right, honey?" he asked gently. "Do you need to sit down?"

She shook her head, looking away from him to the ambulance crew, to thefire engines, to the glare of lights around the television people.

"I-no-urn-oh, G.o.d," she stammered, her breath coming too hard and toofast. Her eyes found his again and her mouth trembled. "Oh, G.o.d, John,what if it's her?"

"If it's her, you didn't put her there, Kate," he said firmly.

"Rotten kid," she muttered, fighting tears. "This is why I don't dokids. Nothing but trouble."

He watched her fight, knowing she wasn't half as tough as she pretendedto be, knowing she had no one in her life to turn to and lean against.

Knowing she probably wouldn't have chosen him for the job now. Knowingall those things, he whispered, "Hey, come here," and drew her close.

She offered no resistance-strong, independent Kate. Her head found hisshoulder and she fitted against him like his missing half.

Familiar, comfortable, perfect. The noise and commotion of the crimescene seemed to recede into the distant background. He stroked a handover her hair and kissed her temple, and felt complete for the firsttime in five years.

"I'm here for you, sweetheart," he whispered. "I've got you."

"Is it her?" Rob Marshall scuttled toward them on his too-short legs.

He was bundled into a fat down parka that appeared to be creeping uparound his ears; a stocking cap sat tight on his round head.

At the sound of his voice, Kate stiffened, straightened, moved a stepaway from Quinn. He could almost see her reining in the emotions andhastily reconstructing the wall around them.

"We don't know," she said, her voice husky. She cleared her throat andswiped a gloved finger beneath one eye. "The body is unrecognizable. Noone's found an ID yet that we know of" Rob looked past her to theparamedics. "I can't believe this is happening. You think this is her,don't you? You think this is your witness."

Your witness, Kate noted. He was already distancing himself from thedisaster, the same way he'd distanced himself from the decision to takeAngie to the Phoenix in the first place. The miserable toad.

"How did this happen?" he demanded. "I thought you were watching out forher, Kate."

"I'm sorry. I told you on the phone I was sorry. I should have stayedwith her." The admission grated now because it was a concession to herboss, and she automatically wanted to disagree with him.

"We chose you for this case for a reason."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Your background, the strength of your personality. For once I thoughtyour stubbornness would actually work to my benefit-"

"You know, I'm blaming myself enough for both of us, Rob," she said. "So you can just get off my back, thank you very much."

"Sabin is furious. I don't know how I'll placate him."

The witness was hers to lose, the peace was his to make. Kate could

already hear him whining and wheedling to Sabin, taking her name in vain every chance he got.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she snapped, too angry for prudence.

"Just get down on your knees and pucker up like you always do."

Rob's whole being quaked in a spasm from his feet up, the fury erupting from his mouth. "How dare you speak that way to me! How dare you! You've lost the witness. Maybe gotten her killed-"

"We don't know that," Quinn intervened.

-and still you have the gall to talk to me that way! You've never shown me an ounce of respect. Even now. Even after this. I can't believe you!

You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!"

"Back off," Quinn ordered. He stepped between them and knocked Rob in

the sternum hard with the heel of his hand. Rob stumbled backward, lost

his footing in the snow, and landed on his b.u.t.t.

"Why don't you go take a look at what Kate's just seen," Quinn said, not bothering to offer a hand up. "Get a fresh perspective as to what's important here right now."

Rob scrambled to his feet, muttering, jerked around and stomped toward the ambulance, dusting the snow off his jacket with quick, angry movements.