Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"Oh, yeah. Took up with this addict named Stone. I tried to stop her, but she… wanted nothing to do with me. By the time she was seventeen she was hooked. By nineteen, she was in prison. For the first three years she was in, she wouldn't even see me. Then she did and…" She let the thought trail. Swallowed hard. "She"s all I have left. If Marc can't get her transferred…"

"Has Marc Spinnelli ever lied to you?"

"No. I trust him more than any man I've ever known. Except maybe Abe." She drew a breath and let it out. "And I suppose, you. I've told you things I shouldn't have."

Something inside him shifted. "I won't tell. I promise."

"I believe you. I think tonight put me on edge more than I'd like to admit. I really hate getting shot at." She flicked the dogtags in his hand. "But I never answered your question. The day I got my badge my father took me out with his cop friends at their bar. I was one of them then. A part of… something. Do you understand what that means'/"

He nodded. To be a part of something close-knit and supportive when you'd been alone for so long. He'd had that with the Sollidays, then with the fire department. Then with Christine. "It was like being in a family. Finally."

"Yeah. Anyway, Bobby was in his element, showing off. It was a big day, he said. And in front of everyone he gave me the dogtags. Said they'd kept him safe in Nam and hoped they'd keep me safe on the force. What was I going to do? I'd grown up with most of these guys but none of them ever knew what really went on in our house."

"Or they chose not to," he murmured and she shrugged.

"Who knows? Anyway, I put them on, intending to take them back off, but before I made it home I was in an accident. My car was totaled and I walked away without a scratch. I thought maybe the dogtags had some luck after all. And over the years, I've been lucky more times than I want to count."

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder where a puckered scar had formed. "Murphy told me about the other time. When your first partner got shot. He said they almost lost you."

"I was lucky then, too. Bullet hit me right here." She touched her abdomen. "Went straight through, missed every major organ. It was then I found out that I was missing a kidney. I'd been born without one, so there was nothing there to hit. The bullet sailed through and I was good as new." She looked away. "And Ray died. After that I had to add on the medic alert tag because of the kidney. A few times I almost took the dogtags off, but never did. I guess there's enough superstition in me to keep them on."

Shed put the engraved medic alert tag behind her father's dogtags. He wondered if she even knew she'd done so. "Or maybe a part of you still needs to please your father," he said and her eyes went flat. Carefully she slipped the chain around her neck.

"You sound like Dana. And you could be right. Which, Lieutenant Solliday, is the real reason I want no strings. I'm too fucked up not to hang myself with them." She rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed, alone, and his heart wanted to break.

"I'm sorry, Mia."

"Really?" Her voice was harsh.

"This time, yes. I am. I-" Her cell phone started to ring. "Dammit."

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. "It's Spinnelli." Eyes on Reed's, she flipped it open. "Mitchell." She listened and the air rushed out of her lungs. "I'll call him. We'll be there in under twenty." She snapped her phone shut. "Get dressed."

He already was. "Another one?"

"Yeah. Joe and Donna Dougherty are dead."

His eyes shot up, his hands paused on his belt buckle. "What?"

"Yeah Apparently they moved out of the Beacon Inn " She pulled her shirt over her head and her eyes flashed "Apparently they were the original targets after all."

Friday, December 1, 3:50 A M

He hadn't come home. The child lay in his bed, curled into a ball, listening to the muffled sounds of weeping down the hall. It wasn't the fust night his mother had cried in her bed And he knew it wouldn't be the last. Unless he did something.

He hadn't come home, but his face was on the news. He'd seen it himself. So had his mother. That's why she'd cried all night. We have to tell Mom he'd said, but she d grabbed him, her eyes wild and scared. You can't. Don't say a word. He'll know .

He'd stared at her throat the top of the mark showing above her dress. The slice was long and deep enough to leave a scar. He d done that to his mother, the very first night. And threatened to do worse if they told. His mother was too scared to talk.

He tucked himself harder into the ball, shaking So am I .

Friday, December 1, 3:55 A M

The front of the house was intact. Two firefighters were coming from around the back, pulling the hose. The odor of fire still hung in the air Mia made her way past the fire truck to where two uniforms stood talking to the ME tech. It was Michaels, the guy who'd processed Dr Thompson's body less than twenty-four hours before. Behind him were two empty gurneys each with a folded black body bag.

"What do you have, Michaels?" she asked.

"Two adults, one male, one female. Both about fifty. Male's been stabbed in the back with a long thin blade, woman's had her throat slit. Both were in bed at the time. The bed was ignited, but ceiling sprinklers put out most of the flames so the bodies are burned, but not charred. I left the bodies in the bed until the fire marshals had a chance to look around. I understand they're on their way."

"I called Lieutenant Solliday as soon as I got the word. In fact," she said, looking over her shoulder, "that should be him right now."

Solliday's SUV pulled to the end of the line of cars. He grabbed his tool bag before making his way to the fire truck. He stopped to talk to the company chief, flicking occasional glances up at the house. Once, he lifted his hand in greeting, as if she hadn't just come from his bed. As if she just hadn't told him her damn life story in the most embarrassing and humiliating of ways. What was I thinking ? What was he, now?

His was the best way to handle it, she supposed. She turned back to the uniforms. "Who ID'd the couple as the Doughertys? Last we heard they were in the Beacon Inn."

"The homeowner. She's sitting in the cruiser," one of the uniforms said. "Her name is Judith Blennard." He led Mia to the cruiser and bent down, speaking in an overly loud voice. "Ma'am, this is Detective Mitchell. She'll want to talk to you."

Judith Blennard was about seventy years old and didn't weigh many more pounds. But her eyes were fierce and her voice boomed. "Detective."

"You'll have to speak up, Detective. They carried her out without her hearing aid."

"Thanks." Mia crouched down. "Are you all right, ma'am?" she asked loudly.

"I'm fine. How are Joe Junior and Donna? Nobody will tell me."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. They're dead," Mia said and the woman's face crumpled.

She covered her mouth with a thin, bony hand. "Oh dear. Oh my."

Mia took her hand. It was ice cold. "Ma'am, why were they staying with you?"

"I've known Joe Junior since he was five years old. No better people in the world than Joe Senior and Laura Dougherty. Always volunteering with charities, taking in lost boys. When I saw what had happened to Joe Junior and Donna, it seemed right 1 should return the favor and take them in. I offered to let them use my addition for as long as they needed it. They refused at first, but… This was no coincidence, Detective."

Mia squeezed her hand. "No, ma'am. Did you see or hear anything?"

"Without my hearing aid, I don't hear much of anything. I go to sleep by ten and I don't wake up till six. I'd still be asleep if that nice fireman hadn't come in to get me."

It wasn't David Hunter's company, Mia had noticed right away. As the firefighters packed up their gear, Reed finished talking with the chief and started toward them, talking into his little recorder. He stopped at the cruiser and Mia motioned him down.