Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

“Someone raided the Crime Scene Unit’s master files and derailed the investigation into the deaths of two police officers.” Rebecca blew out a breath. “I’m betting that person was the same one who fingered you for the hit, Sloan.”

“We need street Intel,” Watts said into the ensuing silence. “All this computer jerking o—uh, investigating, is fine, but we need names, leads, something to chase.”

“That’s the second wing of our operation. You and I will work that, Watts.” She glanced at her watch just as the repetitive ping of the security system sounded again.

“System—show sector one,” Sloan ordered and a monitor mounted on a wall bracket flashed to the landing in front of the main entrance.

Mitchell gasped.

A thin blond in low-riding jeans and a skin-tight top stood staring into the camera. The audio picked up her voice. “I’m here, so you gonna open up or what? Hey, Frye? Jesus.”

“That would be my CI,” Rebecca remarked flatly. “Better let her in before she starts taking the door apart.”

CHAPTER FIVE

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Watts swiveled in his chair to follow the progress of the newest arrival on the monitor. As the image on the screen switched from one security camera to the next, he whistled softly as he watched the woman saunter across the garage to the elevator.

“Tasty. Looks like jailbait, though.”

“Detective,” Rebecca said in a voice so soft it would have been inaudible were it not so deadly. “Be careful what you say about one of mine.”

“Sure, Sarge. No offense—”

One of mine. Mitchell, whose eyes were riveted on the monitor as well, stiffened. “Officially?”

“Yes. She’s registered.” Rebecca regarded her solemnly, noting the tension in the young officer’s body and the harsh edge in her voice. So there is something going on with these two.

Since when? Being a registered confidential informant meant that Sandy was listed with the department by name and paid out of department funds on a regular basis. And if that were the case, Sandy’s identity was now on file for anyone to find. Jesus, as if being on the streets isn’t dangerous enough for her already. Why not just hang a target around her neck.

Mitchell managed a nod as Jason walked in with Sandy beside him, but her stomach was in knots.

“Can I get you some coffee or a coke?” Jason asked.

Sandy did a quick scan of the room, hesitating for millisecond on Mitchell’s face, before fixing on Rebecca with a defiant stare. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

Addressing the group at large, Rebecca explained, “I asked Sandy to come down because I want her to look at last night’s live feed. It’s possible she might recognize the location, or the girls, or even the guy.”

Watts grunted in appreciation. Mitchell said nothing, but her eyes never left Sandy’s face.

“I can bring it up on the big screen in the viewing room,” Sloan offered.

“Great. So’s we can all get a close-up of the guy’s pecker.” Watts inclined his head toward Sandy. “Any chance you’ll be able to recognize that?”

“Depends,” Sandy said flatly. “Most of them look pretty much the same, except…” her eyes dropped briefly to Watts’s crotch, “some of them are a lot smaller than others.”

Watts grinned, not looking the least bit offended.

Sandy stayed close to Rebecca’s side as the group wended its way through the core of the work area, aware of Dell walking just behind her. Frye didn’t tell me Dell would be here tonight. Jesus, she looks pissed, too.

Once there, Sloan pushed a button and almost immediately images sprang to life on the large screen on one wall.

“I want you to look at the girls first,” Rebecca said. “Then we’ll go back, and you can look at him.”

Sandy was oddly silent as she watched the action on the screen. A man in a nondescript uniform entered a room in which the only furnishings were a bedroom set of the type sold in discount warehouses, a few lamps, and a chair. The bed was made up with a faded quilt. She leaned forward as two girls entered the room. One was Asian and the other Caucasian. The man stripped as they feigned surprise and awkward shyness.

“Can you…you know…make this bigger?” Sandy stared fixedly at the screen. “I want to see their faces…their eyes.”

“Just a second.” Sloan made some adjustments and zoomed in on the Asian girl’s face.

Sandy nodded in satisfaction. “She’s young, but not quite as young as they want you to think.”

“Anything else?” Rebecca whispered softly.

“I don’t know them,” Sandy replied hollowly. Watching the young girls do what she herself did on a nightly basis was harder than she had expected it to be. It was even worse knowing that Dell was watching. Why do I care what anyone thinks? Even her.

“Okay,” Rebecca whispered, hearing the discomfort in Sandy’s voice. Over her shoulder, she said to Sloan, “Get us a shot of the guy now.”

The images blurred, and then a profile of the man’s face came into view. Sandy straightened suddenly. “Wait…can you go back?…There…” she pointed at the screen. “On his neck…is that a scar?”

“Sloan?”

“Can’t be sure, but Jason can work it up for us later with the imaging software.”

“Good girl, Sandy.” Rebecca’s voice was tight with excitement. “Do you know him?”

“Seen him, maybe,” Sandy replied. “I remember something about a guy with a scar on his neck shaped like a, whatdayacallit, a scimitar.”

“Turn it off,” Rebecca ordered.

The lights came up and they all stood, blinking, carefully not looking at one another.

“If you can give me pictures of those girls, I can show them around,” Sandy offered.

“Jason will get them made up for you tonight,” Sloan replied.

Sandy nodded, really looking at Sloan for the first time, slowly taking in the wild dark hair, the amazing eyes, the muscular physique. She looked a bit like an older Dell, except Dell’s body was sexier, all wiry and tight and… Oh man, what is that about!

“Maybe flashing those pictures around’s not so cool,” Mitchell said, moving closer to Sandy. She almost reached for her hand, and then stuffed her fists into the pockets of her jeans instead. “You start asking about those girls and somebody might take notice. Somebody who you don’t want to take notice.”

“Mitchell,” Rebecca warned. I’m going to rein her in before she crosses a line.

Sensing that Rebecca was about to ream out Dell for interfering, Sandy lifted her chin and snapped, “I can take of myself. Why don’t you just worry about the cop stuff.”

While the others worked out the schedule for the next day, Mitchell and Sandy slowly drifted toward the elevator.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Mitchell murmured to Sandy. She rested her fingers lightly against Sandy’s bare elbow.

“Sandy,” Rebecca called, catching up to them at the elevators. “Let’s take a ride.”

“Sure,” the young woman replied with a sigh, moving her arm away from Mitchell’s hand. “It’s your dime, Frye.”

Outside, Sandy and Rebecca walked in the other direction to the Corvette. Mitchell stood on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched in the chill night air, watching them go.

“You did well up there,” Rebecca said as she drove south on Front street, the lights of the Ben Franklin Bridge glowing blue as it towered into the dark night sky just above them. Rebecca studied Sandy’s face in the light of the passing headlights. Not for the first time she realized how pretty she was. “You know that guy, don’t you?”

Sandy sighed. “I’m not sure, but I think he used to be a bouncer at Ziggies.”