Leann Sweeney - Shoot from the Lip

“Hey,” he said. “How are you?”

“Missing you.”

“I could be home in a week.” He sounded more tired than when he worked a case for forty-eight hours straight.

“That’s the best news I’ve had all day.” I summarized what had happened since we last spoke.

When I’d finished, Jeff said, “You think you can trust Kravitz, hon?”

“For now, I have to. Besides, what’s the alternative? Fight Kravitz and then trip over his investigators every step I take?”

“I’m betting they’ll still follow you to that motorcycle shop tomorrow. Do you remember what I told you about ditching a tail?”

“Take the side streets, double back at times, stop and let the tail pass. Did I miss anything?”

“Never stop at yellow lights. Your tail might be four cars behind, and that’s your chance to lose them. Of course, some guys know how to tail without being noticed. Hope you don’t get one of those kind.”

“You can do that, right? Tail without a suspect knowing?”

“Usually.”

“What’s your secret?” I asked.

“Anticipation of their next move, sometimes a gut feeling. Having a clue where the target is going is the best help of all.”

“Kravitz will tell them where I’m going, won’t he?”

“Probably. Maybe you can fool them. Follow some other lead or stay home.”

“Is that what you’d do? Stay home? I don’t think so, Jeff.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Now, can we talk about something else? This time I want to know what you’re not wearing.”

The next morning I called Murray Motorcycles and asked for Rhoda. The man who answered told me she wasn’t in, but he expected her soon. I asked for directions and hung up. The shop wasn’t far from where I’d been yesterday, and I hurried out the back door, anxious to interview Rhoda.

Unfortunately, fifteen minutes later I found myself in a giant traffic jam on Highway 59. Damn. When I have a plan, a traffic mess like this is sure to happen. I tried a Josh Groban CD to calm down, and when that didn’t work I picked up my cell. I hoped to reach DeShay rather than his voice mail, and prayed he’d forgiven me for pestering him yesterday.

“Peters,” he answered.

“It’s me. Did you hear anything on the DNA yet?”

“I’ll call you in five minutes,” he said. “White will be out of here by then.”

“Gotcha.” I closed the phone and in those seemingly endless five minutes the Camry and I moved about a hundred feet.

Finally the phone rang.

DeShay said, “Sorry, but Don’s having a bad day, and you know how he feels about your working this case. Thought I’d better not antagonize him by giving you information while he was around.”

“Sergeant Benson told me White was territorial, but his reaction to me seems way beyond that. Am I that annoying? Wait, don’t answer that. What’s this information?”

“You won’t believe this, Abby.”

“Try me,” I said.

“The dead woman’s DNA does not match the baby but does match Emma. She’s Christine O’Meara for sure.”

“Wait a minute. The baby under the house wasn’t Christine’s? And wasn’t Emma’s sister? Hell, do you even know if it was a boy or a girl?”

“Girl. They did mitochondrial testing to figure all this out,” he said.

“That’s right. Julie said you can only use female samples for that. What do we do now?” I said.

“Now we have a different unidentified victim. White’s been busy pulling files to see if anyone reported a kidnapping or a baby snatching from a hospital in 1992. Thing is, we checked the Chronicle archives first and found nothing. Something like that would have been big news.”

“White’s focus is still on identifying the baby first?” I said.

“It’s a good place to start, but-Wait. Hang on.”

I heard White in the background say, “Who you talking to?”

DeShay must have covered the phone, because I couldn’t hear his response. When he came back on the line, he said, “He came back for something. Anyway, he’s on his way to the hospital. Ed’s not doing so hot, and I think that’s part of White’s attitude problem. They’ve been partners a long time.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Sergeant Benson seems like such a nice man, from the few times I talked to him.”

“He had another small stroke.”

“I sent flowers, put you and Jeff on the card, too.”

“Thanks for thinking of Ed. Women are good at remembering shit like flowers and cards.”

“And cops are good at giving their blood and their lives for the rest of us. As for the case, while White’s doing his thing, are you following up on Christine O’Meara’s murder?”

“Don’t I wish. White jawed all morning that since Emma hired you for that job, you could take O’Meara while we focus on the bones. I sorta get that. Lots of media people have been asking questions about how a baby could die without anyone knowing. I wonder myself.”

“I’ll keep doing what I’m doing then.”

“Yup. Find out anything you can on O’Meara and pass it on to me. And by the way, that asshole Mayo has pulled strings, gotten the okay for Paul Kravitz to talk to us about the investigation into the infant’s death. Like I got time for that.”

“Kravitz left town this morning. You won’t be seeing him today.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had since I woke up. I’ve got something for you to follow up on concerning O’Meara.”

“Shoot.”

“I found out Crime Stoppers had a call in ninety-seven about the then-unidentified body of a woman. According to the report I found, this guy who phoned said he recognized her from the reconstruction photo in the paper.”

“The police had a lead?”

“Not exactly. This guy wanted the reward, but when the investigator on the case interviewed him, the man flipped, said he’d made a mistake. Said he didn’t know the woman.”

“That’s weird. Was he some kind of attention seeker? Just wanted to talk to a cop?” I asked.

“You mean like the attention seekers who’ve been phoning in useless clues all morning? I don’t think so. Doesn’t fit the personality of our regular callers. They prefer higher-profile cases like the infant bones. Some nameless woman found dead in a field wouldn’t have grabbed their interest.”

“But Christine’s murder will draw plenty of publicity once people know her connection to the bones-whatever that connection is.”

“Right,” DeShay said. “That’s why, besides you, only Emma and her family will be told about the O’Meara ID. We don’t have any hard evidence to connect the baby’s death and her disappearance and murder yet. I’m hoping something CSU collected will show that Christine killed that baby, or at least put her in the ground.”

“Christine’s death came five years after that baby died. Maybe her murder’s not related,” I said.

“True. But I’m not expecting answers anytime soon. White’s not real into this case. Along with hating my guts because I’m not Ed Benson and being pissed off at you because he thinks only cops should work homicides, he’s distracted by Ed’s illness. Jeff got an earful about all this when I talked to him this morning.”

“You talked to Jeff?” Even though we’d spoken less than twelve hours ago, I felt a little flutter in my stomach when I heard his name.

“Yeah, I told him he needs to get his damn ass back here.”

“He doesn’t have a damn ass. He has one of the nicest-”

“Some things you can keep to yourself, Abby girl. Anyway, I told him White’s got me screening the crack-pot calls, people telling me it was their baby under that house or they know someone who knows someone who might know something about the case. Stupid stuff that will probably lead nowhere. Jeff told me I should cut White some slack, so I’m trying.”