Which way to go?
The police weren’t stupid. They had radios. There would soon be cop cars all over the neighborhood. What would they be looking for? Probably a man on foot. But they had seen his car when he drove by. Would they remember it and make the connection? Did they write down his license plate? Take his picture?
He decided in an instant, flipping a quick U-turn on the small street.
It was too narrow for a complete turn, so he bounced up onto the sidewalk with his front tire. Once he was pointed back east, he drove forward. He paused briefly at the stop sign, then crossed Post and continued east at the speed limit.
He frowned as he drove. If they had his license plate, they’d soon have his address. Going home could mean walking into a trap.
This wasn’t something he’d planned for. He never imagined his own home as a danger. Home was his sanctuary. He’d have to trust it was still safe.
Drive home. Throw his clothes in the washer. Shower. Think of an alibi.
If the cops came, he’d bluff. That was the only play he had right now. Later, maybe he could come up with a different plan for another time, but for now, he’d bluff.
His frown turned into a scowl. Did they have his picture?
Did that bitch get a look at his face?
He shook his head. It was too dark. She didn’t see him.
He reached Atlantic Avenue and turned left. Two blocks later, he turned off his headlights and cruised quietly up the street. His block was still. Most of the lights inside the small ranchers and brick single story houses were turned out for the night. It was too cold for anyone to be sitting out on the front porch. No one would notice his stealthy approach.
He pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine. Before exiting the car, he took several deep breaths. Then he went inside.
2310 hours
Officer Paul Hiero turned onto Atlantic just as the order to secure the perimeter came over his radio. He frowned, knowing that meant the K-9 track had failed. Which meant the suspect had escaped.
He cruised slowly northbound along the residential street. Most of the lights inside the houses were turned off. Outdoor lights burned over the front doors of almost every porch. The occasional flicker of a television behind curtains told him that some people were still awake, but the majority of people in the neighborhood had already called it a night. That didn’t surprise him. The neighborhood consisted largely of retired folks and working class families. The retired folks went to bed early because they were old. The working families had either school or a job to get to in the morning.
Hiero sighed. This was a waste of time. There was no way a scumbag rapist would live in a neighborhood like this.
Nonetheless, he drifted along the street, watching for any pedestrians or anything suspicious. There was nothing, just as he expected.
When he reached Garland, he stopped for the stop sign. He lifted the radio mike and spoke into it. “Baker-127, clear of the call.”
“Copy, Baker-127.”
He turned right and headed back east to Baker Sector.
FOURTEEN
Tuesday, April 23rd
Day Shift
0611 hours
Tower stood in his kitchen, staring at the small cactus in a coffee cup that was on the windowsill. That cactus was his sole contribution to the flora and fauna life in his home. All the rest came with Stephanie as she slowly moved in. As he sipped the strong coffee from his own cup, he ran the events of the previous night through his head.
He tried to work up some anger toward Kahn for not breaking perimeter to go after the car. Or at Chisolm for directing him not to. But in the end, he knew it had been the right decision. Besides, he’d been too worried about MacLeod’s injuries to even be aware of the track. It wasn’t until she’d been shuttled off to the hospital that he turned his attention to the activities around him.
He took a long sip of the brew in his cup. The bold blend overwhelmed his mouth with taste. As he swallowed and enjoyed the after-scent of the coffee, he decided that even if there had been mistakes made by the officers, it had been his task force. He should have foreseen the mistakes or prevented them. Or had a better plan.
The cactus on the windowsill looked dry. He supposed that was the cactus’s nature, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out and dribbling coffee over the top of the spiky bulb. The steaming hot liquid washed down the green cactus and darkened the dry earth beneath it.
A shuffling sound arose behind him.
“John, what’re you doing?”
“Watering the plants,” Tower said evenly.
Stephanie brushed past him toward the cupboard containing the coffee cups, leaving a trail of bed-warmth from her body in her wash. She poured herself a cup and sidled up next to Tower.
“You didn’t get in ‘til late last night,” she said.
Tower grunted and took another sip.
“You should have woken me,” Stephanie said, giving him a gentle nudge with her hip.
Tower sighed. “I was exhausted.”
“What happened? Did you catch the guy?”
“Nope.” Tower reached out and dribbled some more coffee onto the cactus.
Stephanie watched him. Then she said, “You know, some people believe that plants can feel pain. You could be burning the hell out of that poor cactus.”
“Those people are idiots,” Tower remarked. He gave the cactus one last splash of coffee. “Besides, cactuses are tough.”
“Cacti,” Stephanie corrected.
Tower sighed again, a tickle of irritation going through him. “Thanks. Are you getting into crosswords or something?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Tower drank the last of his coffee. He thought about pouring himself another cup but hesitated. He should get to work. Of course, he knew what was waiting for him there.
Questions.
And Lieutenant Crawford.
He poured another cup.
“I saw your sister yesterday,” Stephanie said. “Little Ben sure is cute.”
Tower smiled in spite of himself. His nephew was a cute kid, and he was proud of the boy. He didn’t know if he’d ever have kids of his own, but somehow being an uncle to Ben made that concern less worrisome.
“Thought that’d make you smile,” Stephanie said. Then she assumed a mock pout. “Although, it’d been nice if the prospect of waking me up for sex had done the same thing.”
Tower leaned over and kissed her temple. “I really was exhausted, babe. And I had a bad night.”
Stephanie leaned in and nestled into his chest. “Well, I’ll tell you what. When you have bad nights like that and you’re tired, wake me up anyway. I’ll make your night better. And I’ll even do most of the work.”
Tower kissed the top of her head. “Okay. You got it.” He kissed her head again, pausing to smell her hair. “Thanks,” he whispered.
In that moment, it didn’t matter to him that Crawford was probably already waiting to chew his ass at the office. Or that the Rainy Day Rapist was getting the better of him. For those few seconds, it didn’t even matter that Katie MacLeod was up at the hospital. All that mattered was the scent of her hair and the closeness of her body.
“Thanks,” he whispered again.
0630 hours
He sat at his kitchen table, staring down at his uneaten breakfast. The reality of his near capture the previous night settled in after he’d slept for a few hours. He’d been foolish to attempt something with no plan. And to risk doing it without his ski mask was doubly foolish. What if she’d seen his face?
The entire scenario played itself out behind his eyes. Spotting her while driving by. The rush to grab her. The quick response of the police. Her rebellious words-
Fuck you!
— once he had her in the wooded area rang in his ears. So did the beautiful sound of his fist slapping into her face. The memory of the sweet limpness of her body afterward still made his fingers and palms tingle hours later.