Susan Sleeman - Behind the Badge

He focused on Sydney for the moment. “So tell me about Dixon’s arrests.”

She swiveled to face him. “The first time was last month when I busted a party at his house and hauled him in for supplying alcohol to minors.”

“Your sister, Nikki, was involved, right?”

She nodded. “Dixon got her and three of her friends stinking drunk and the judge let him off with a fine. A fine. Can you imagine that?” Her voice rose with each word. “He corrupts young girls, pays a few bucks and is free to do it again.”

“Sometimes our system doesn’t work.”

“Yeah, well, try to act so complacent when it happens to someone you love.”

She had a good point. How would he react if this happened to his seven-year-old son, Zack? Not that Russ would find himself in this position. He’d let alcohol control his life for a few years and now only had weekend visits with his son. They spent every waking moment together so this couldn’t happen. But as a father, Russ could still understand why Sydney reacted this way.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t let it roll off my back real easy.”

“And I couldn’t either. She’s my little sister, Russ. I fed her. Changed her diapers. Loved her when both our parents failed us.” She paused. Breathed deeply. “I couldn’t let Dixon get away with hurting her and walking free. He had to pay.”

“You wanted him dead,” he added, to see her reaction.

“What? No! Of course not. I just wanted him in jail. I knew he’d screw up again so I made it a point to follow him in my free time.” She met his eyes. “Last Wednesday afternoon I caught him on his porch selling coke and busted him.”

He couldn’t believe it. She’d gone rogue and followed the guy, putting herself in danger. “They call it off duty for a reason, Syd. Without backup, you could get into serious trouble. Besides, you don’t have the experience to run a narcotics investigation.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of my limitations. When I started following him, I didn’t know it would lead to drugs. Or to this.” She held out her bloody hands. “If I’d known my actions would result in someone’s death, I would never have pursued him.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist, sheer misery clouding her face.

He hated to see any officer forced to deal with death, and he hadn’t wanted to make things worse. Still, he had a job to do. That meant tough discussions like this would occur. But he could try to make it easier.

He went to his trunk, grabbed a blanket and settled it over her shoulders. Raw anguish filled her eyes.

Russ felt her pain.

To the bone.

He had lived it for the past four years, since he’d watched a homicide suspect gun down a six-year-old boy. Watched, helplessly, in slow motion.

Russ wanted to go back. Save Willie Babcock’s life. But that wasn’t possible. The price had been paid. Willie with his life. Russ with the loss of his family.

He shook off the emotions, dug deep for the calm center he’d worked so hard to develop the past few years. He couldn’t change the past, but he could stop it from happening again.

He’d do everything within his power to find the killer so another person didn’t die on his watch.

Heavy banks of fog drifted off the lake and rolled across the cement, as if alive and breathing. Damp and irritated from the mist, Russ stood in the parking lot next to Garber, waiting for him to conclude his call with the sheriff’s department.

On a good day, waiting around got on Russ’s nerves, but tonight it left him with too much time to think about Sydney’s wounded expression. Something that was definitely not in his best interest.

Garber clapped his phone closed and turned to Russ. “Not good news. This fog has the sheriff’s department swamped. They’re investigating a hit-and-run on the south side of the county and using their only set of lights. We won’t get them until they finish.”

“Any idea of time?”

“Could be a few hours or not at all if they have another problem,” Garber replied.

“No sense in all of us standing around. Call Dixon’s landlord back. Tell him I’m on my way to the house and to meet me there. Call me when the lights arrive or if anything else develops.”

Heading in Sydney’s direction, he saw her sitting on the bumper of a silent ambulance, its red light swirling through the fog in an eerie dance. She’d washed the blood from her hands and pulled her hair into a ponytail, which emphasized the angry gash on her head, now swollen to a massive purple lump. At least the bleeding had subsided, thanks to EMT Lisa Watson, who’d applied a neat row of butterfly bandages.

“That’ll do for now.” Lisa pressed her finger on the bottom bandage.

Sydney winced, then forced a laugh. “Will I live?”

“Looks worse than it is. I closed the wound, but it could still scar. You might want to have a doctor take a look at it.”

“Or not. But thanks, Lisa.” Sydney smiled up at Lisa, a genuine, warm smile like the one she’d radiated up at Russ as a teen, almost overpowering his common sense in sending her away.

He shook off the thought. He was here to do a job. Catch a killer. Not let the cute dimples or generous smattering of freckles dotted across high cheekbones distract him.

He stepped into his professional mode and approached the pair. “So Deputy Tucker’s good to go, then?”

Lisa nodded. “She’ll be fine with some rest and over-the-counter pain relievers.”

“Then if you’ll excuse us, I need to have a word with her.”

“I’ll be taking off,” Lisa said to Sydney. “I’m off duty in an hour or so, but you can call me any time tonight if you need something.”

“Thanks again, Lisa.” Sydney shoved off the bumper, grimacing on the way up.

He nodded at the jagged slit in her pant leg, darkened with blood. “Looks like your forehead isn’t your worst problem.”

“I’ll ice my knee when I get home. It’ll be fine.” She turned her gaze to the officers at the base of the path. “Any leads?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re waiting on your department to deliver lights, so I’m heading over to Dixon’s place and wanted you to accompany me.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened.

He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You have to admit it’s not common practice to ask for a rookie’s help.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, especially when you’re the closest thing we have to a witness on this case, but I’m hoping a trip to Dixon’s house will jog your memory and give us a lead.” Before she could ask another question, he held his hand toward the road. “My cruiser’s over there.”

Though her gaze still held questions, she started toward his car. He heard her groan in pain, but kept his mouth shut. The less he said about her injuries, the less likely he would make a comment that she misunderstood. For the same reason, he didn’t open the passenger door for her as he would in a social situation, just climbed behind the wheel. When she settled into the other seat, he eased onto the road.

Pulling out her seat belt, she suddenly let it go. “My gun. It’s still in my car.”

“Relax. You won’t need it at Dixon’s house.”

Sighing, she retrieved the belt. “You must think I’m hopeless at this job.”

He could hear the despondency and self-recrimination in her voice. She had to find a way to deal with the guilt. Not the way he had, with a stiff drink, but by talking and working through it.

He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Good officers aren’t born, Syd. They learn through experience.”

“But you’d never leave your gun in the car.”

“No, you’re right. But I might’ve as a rookie. All you can do is learn from tonight and adjust accordingly.” Trying not to feel so much like a hypocrite by telling her one thing and still letting Willie’s death get to him, he eased through light traffic.