Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

Oliver’s shoulders tensed. “I’ll take you to his house after I drop off Marx.”

Hayley said, “I’ll take her, Scott. This is girl time, okay?”

That was Hayley to a T. It didn’t surprise me. She’d been there for me before. Oliver didn’t argue and the ride was wonderfully silent. We picked up Hayley’s car and made it to Koby’s by eight. My Lexus was right where I’d left it; his Toyota was nowhere in sight. I sighed. “I don’t think he’s home yet. He’s probably still at the hospital.”

“You aren’t going there, right?” Before I could answer, she said, “Cin, you need to go home and sleep.”

“You too.”

“No problem. I’m going home. You do the same. That’s an order.” We hugged. She said, “Breakfast on Wednesday?”

“How about Thursday?” I countered for no good reason.

“Thursday is perfect.”

I smiled, then got out of the car. After settling myself in my Lexus and placing the phone in the built-in recharge cradle, I put in a call to Koby’s cell.

I got his voice mail.

I left a brief message.

Next I tried the hospital. I was transferred about ten times and finally wound up talking to Marnie, the pixie nurse I had met the first time I had visited Sarah’s baby. She knew about the accident and asked me if I was okay. I told her I was.

There was an awkward pause.

“He’s in the ICU,” she told me. “Been there for a while. Maybe I can help you with something?”

Tension in her voice. It could have come from dealing with the horror of the accident, but the tightness told me it was probably more personal. That I was bugging her because I was bugging Koby.

“No… just tell him I called.”

“I will, Officer. Good-bye.”

She hung up before I could thank her.

I made it home by nine, then called Louise Sanders to cancel our lunch date at the precinct. She wasn’t in, but I left a message on her cell. Then after setting the alarm for one-thirty, I went to bed. The buzzer did its magic at the appointed time, and I was showered, dressed, and ready to go by two. There were messages on my answering machine from that morning. Three from my father, one from Hayley, and even one from Scott, his being two words-“Let’s talk.”

I’d deal with my messages later.

There was nothing from Koby.

I called his cell, but it was still on voice mail.

I called his house. He wasn’t home or he wasn’t picking up. This time, I left a message. I told him how proud I was of him. I told him I was okay and hoped he was okay as well. I was still shaken but otherwise fine. Then I hung up.

The ball was in his court. Tired and grumpy, I went to work.

?

It took some dogged determination, but I managed to catch up with Russ MacGregor while I was on break and he was in the squad room, working the phones before he went out on his next field call. The hit-and-run had given me some clout since I had reacted quickly and according to protocol. But Russ was far from generous. I had fifteen minutes to state my case.

Three things were on my mind: Sarah Sanders’s rape, locating the missing David, who was possibly the father of Sarah’s baby, and now the hit-and-run. I knew my limitations, and so did Russ. Still, I made a stab at it, trying to tie everything together. Russ was dubious.

“What in the world does this hit-and-run have to do with Sarah Sanders and an abandoned baby?”

“Maybe Belinda Syracuse knew something about Sarah’s rape. Girls do talk, you know. And maybe Belinda was murdered because of it.”

“Number one, Decker, you don’t even know if this rape is real or not. Number two, if you think Belinda’s death was related to Sarah Sanders’s alleged rape, why wait months before bumping Belinda off, and number three, if these cases are connected, why is Belinda dead and Sarah Sanders alive and well?”

I had no answer, so I ignored the questions. “I think we should explore the possibilities.”

“Are you deaf? They had nothing to do with one another.”

“Freaky coincidence?”

“It happens, Decker. Anything else?”

He was already walking away, the vents of his navy jacket flapping behind him. I said, “Nice suit.”

Russ slowed. “Thanks.” He stopped, then suddenly eyed me like a man. Then he thought better of it. “Decker, you did a good job. Everyone has taken note. Now leave the hit-and-run investigation to Homicide.”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.”

“Dare I ask what you are interested in?”

“Finding the most likely candidate for the father of Sarah Sanders’s child. My vote is a boy named David, who also lived at the center.”

“The one who was supposedly beaten up.”

“Why supposedly? Why would Sarah lie?”

“Because she abandoned her baby and is in big trouble. She’s facing a reckless-disregard charge.”

“Her mental condition is perfect for a mitigating-circumstances plea.”

“But maybe she’s also aiming for the sympathy plea. You have no idea if this rape and mugging are figments or are real.”

“So let me find out.”

“Decker, it happened months ago. It’s old news.”

“And that makes the crime any less horrific?” How could MacGregor respond to that? “It would be nice to find the guy… to make sure he’s all right.”

“When are you planning to do this, Sherlock?”

“I don’t start work until three tomorrow.”

“So you’re doing it on your own time? Why you buggin’ me about it?”

“I make it a point not to step on toes.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Drop by the center, but give it a day or two. I heard from Justice Brill-the Homicide detective in charge of Syracuse’s hit-and-run-that the place is pretty much up to their eyeballs right now, dealing with Belinda’s death.”

“I can identify with that.”

MacGregor must have seen something in my weary face. “You need some rest, Decker. Do you a lot more good than chasing down a half-baked memory.” He shook his head. “All right. But like I said, wait a day or two. You gotta think about priorities.”

“Of course. Thanks, Russ. Really.” I cleared my throat. “Sarah Sanders is willing to come in and make a statement about the rape.”

He sneered. “Your idea?”

“How about tomorrow around noon? Please?”

Again he eyed me. Then he gave me the “smile.” I pretended to be looking the other way. When we reestablished eye contact, it was gone. “Yeah, okay.”

“You’re a peach, Detective.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Decker.”

“Don’t be mad. If I find something out, you’ll get all the credit.” On that positive note, I gave him a thumbs-up and walked away.

?

When I got home, there were two new messages-another one from Dad, and another from Hayley. I picked up the phone but thought better of it.

Instead, I turned on my computer and checked my e-mail. I saw his screen name sandwiched between an AOL discount special andLOW-RATE MORTGAGES FROM HOUSE EQUITY FUNDING. I wasn’t wild about electronic communication, but I was the one who had started it. I clicked on it.

Dear Cindy,

Doing a double shift. That is good. Better than thinking about the accident. Call you later.

Love, Koby

It was a rather curt e-mail, especially compared to my gushing phone calls. But he was probably dealing with life-and-death issues and didn’t have time for the niceties. So I wrote him back, again telling him how impressed I was with his swiftness of action. I wasn’t quite as effusive, but I was complimentary.

Maybe it would make him smile.

Maybe it would induce him to call.

This time,Decker was late. From down the aisle, he saw her in the corner booth, sipping coffee while reading the paper. From this distance, she looked so young and vulnerable. Maybe he just perceived her that way because she was his daughter. He took a deep breath, his heart skipping in his chest, and slapped a smile on his face. He slid into the booth on the opposite side.