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Chapter Eleven
Posted by
jlk
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24 September 2012
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She was almost to Cop Central when she got the call that the APB had pulled in Borge and Culper. She tagged Peabody to negotiate two interview rooms and settled into her office with a cup of coffee and two pain blockers. She finished off the paperwork on Delmar White, adding the reports from Morris and Dickhead. Mrs. White, bless her, was continuing to proclaim her guilt and Reo was passing the case off to a junior APA. Eve shook her head. It was a new record, and it belonged to her partner. One minute to break a perp.
“Morning,” her partner commented, staggering in and collapsing on Eve’s visitor’s chair. “Don’t yell. I took two Sober Ups and two pain blockers. They’ll kick in here shortly.” She put her head in her hands. “Tell me we had fun last night.”
“We have fun in the daytime, too. Did you book those interview rooms?” Eve drank some coffee.
“Twelve and Sixteen.” Peabody swallowed hard, maintaining.
“Which one do you want?” Since they hadn’t done more than seen the two killers, she didn’t have a feeling for either one.
“I’ll take Culper. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who threw the bottle at me.” Her hands lowered to her lap.
“I got fifty mine confesses first.” Eve said it gently, tossing the file into Peabody’s hands. “We start in ten, Detective. Look alive.”
“I wish I wasn’t, Sir.” But she got herself in gear and followed Eve down the hallway.
Brailey Borge looked perfectly capable of being a school teacher. He was medium height, medium build, had medium brown hair and eyes, and wore glasses, brown frames. For some reason, school teacher just rang. Now, he sat in his ill-fitting brown suit and rumpled white shirt, looking like he'd been rousted from a late night at the library. The beat cops who had found him and his partner Culper had caught them sleeping in the stolen RapidCab behind a corner mart.
He’d lawyered up. Eve ignored the lawyer. She read off the details, his Revised Miranda, then sat down in the chair on her side of the table. “Did you understand your rights, Brailey?”
Those brown eyes looked at her with a hard knowledge of the streets. School teacher image died. Street hound replaced the image. “Yeah. What’s this about, Dallas?”
She tipped her head, looking at him. She didn’t place him. Interesting. “I’ve got you on disc killing a very nice woman who refused to give you her purse.” She held up a hand to stop the attorney. “Don’t. The disc is clear. You and Culper, Brailey. It’s down to who turns over first, as far as the district attorney’s office is concerned.” She leaned back in the chair. Waited.
Brailey whispered to his attorney. The attorney whispered back. The attorney leaned forward. “Mr. Borge wishes to make a deal.”
“I’m sure he does.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Peabody whined until Eve had to go with her to get a soy dog at a corner glide cart. Since Culper had confessed faster, and the APA had given him the first deal, Eve was buying. Not that she really minded. She was hungry enough that she added an order of veggie hash with the dog. And she was just digging in her jeans pocket for the credits when the street rumbled.
Everyone froze. Looked down. And it rumbled again. Then there was a muffled explosion and a crater abruptly opened. Pavement went down, some came up. People went down, vehicles went down. Glide carts went down. What looked like half a subway car came up. The noise was like a chainsaw cutting through a kindergarten class. Times a thousand. Maybe a hundred thousand. Eve gave up trying to judge it. It was LOUD.
She and Peabody only had to take a few steps to look down into the hole. Fire, electrical flashes and snaps, water, a heavy wind blowing through and up. People dead, injured, trying to escape the horror. Eve put her hand down and pulled a teenage kid up. Looked behind her. Trueheart stood there. She thrust the kid at him. Baxter lay down on his stomach beside her, reaching down as she had.
“What?” She couldn’t hear him over the other sounds. Or maybe the initial explosion had impaired her hearing.
“We can’t send anyone down until it’s been cleared. Fire Chief’s on his way,” Baxter shouted in her ear. Then he pulled a grandmother – type up, passed her off to Trueheart.
Eve looked around. They were doing this wrong. The people with the most upper body strength needed to be pulling survivors up. She motioned Peabody up and behind her, Trueheart down. Realized she’d be better off helping on top as well. She could bench press her own weight, probably could pull up someone twice her own weight, but not more than a few times. She moved, letting Jenkinson have her spot. Peabody was already getting into the program, beginning to section people off, organizing, processing what had to be done as best they could do at the moment. Eve backed off, started to secure the perimeter with a multitude of drones and droids. Once they were doing that job, she got the MTs placed, had the black and whites make way for the medivans. In some part of her mind she noticed Louise’s arrival and that the dedicated physician looked hung over and still ready to save the world.
The Fire Chief arrived with Cmdr. Whitney and Chief Tibble, evaluated the scene. They had the electricity turned off into the underground and subway areas. But water mains were destroyed and the subway was filling with water fast. City engineers employed levee systems to close off the area, wouldn’t guess more than fifty percent chance they’d hold. It didn’t take long for Eve to know what had to be done to rescue those still alive and trapped. Search and Rescue, Underwater Recovery Unit, US Naval dive teams were all called in. She met Whitney’s eyes. In them she saw the knowledge of what had to be done.
Turning, she strode toward the barriers where Nadine and other press people were penned in by grim cops. They let her through as Eve approached. Eve pulled her behind a medivan. “If I die, Peabody’s got first dibs on Roarke. After he runs through her, you’re next,” she told her friend as she pulled off her coat, thrust it into the reporter’s arms.
“Dallas, what are you doing?” Nadine felt her breath stuttering as Eve began to pull off her boots. Peabody slid up, began taking of her pink cowboy boots. “Peabody? Oh, God!”
“You don’t get McNab, Nadine. He’s going to Reo,” Peabody mumbled, pulling her handmade sweater over her head, piling it on Nadine’s outstretched arms.
Down to underclothing, Eve and Peabody strode to the jagged opening. Headbands with attached underwater lights were passed into their hands. Wordlessly, they exchanged a glance, then allowed Baxter and Trueheart to lower them into the freezing water. Trueheart began to strip. Carmichael as well. The men and women of Cop Central gathered, the disaster right outside their house. They each knew their strengths. Only a strong swimmer would be of use. Another victim wouldn’t help. Or a potential victim. No one said a word when Cmdr. Whitney moved to let Baxter lower him down.
Eve did the best she could. By now, most were simply bodies floating in macabre poses. But some people held on, breathing in pockets of air, trapped or too scared to try and escape. The cold, the darkness, the horror. She didn’t know what had happened. It didn’t matter right now. She dove under and swam, finding the air pockets, finding those who needed to be pulled through the freezing water and shoved up toward hands held down to pull them to safety. Again. Again. Again. She passed Peabody, Trueheart, Carmichael, Whitney. It was like a game. A fucking game where no one would ever win.
When men in black diving suits, slender air tanks sleeked down their sides, joined them, Eve felt ready to collapse. She pushed an unconscious man up, then held her own hands up to be pulled out of the water. Someone, Baxter she thought, carried her to Louise, who efficiently stripped her, wrapped her in a heated blanket and started in with the pressure syringes. Eve was too cold to complain. A few minutes later Peabody was deposited beside her on a guerney, given the same treatment. Then Trueheart, Carmichael, Whitney. Mira came over and sat between Eve and Peabody, took their hands.
Already feeling better as the heated gel blanket eased warmth into her shivering body, Eve let the psychiatrist, hell, her friend, squeeze her hand in comfort. “How’d we do?”
“I’m trying to think of a water polo joke, but nothing’s coming,” Mira explained. “It’s quite distressing.”
“Give me a minute,” Peabody croaked. Then, “Hey baby.” And sighed as McNab put his arms around her.
Eve sighed, thought of Roarke, sighed again as McNab kissed her partner with a heart aching tenderness. She turned her head, met Mira’s eyes, and smiled.
Louise bent over her, flashed a light in her eyes. “I’ve pumped you full of antibiotics, Dallas, and I had to restitch your head. Morris did fine work, but you pulled them out along the way. You’re heading home for bedrest. Promise or I tranq your ass. You got five seconds to decide, I’ve got other patients.” Louise was a no fuss kind of doctor. Even with her friends.
“I’ll go.” She was tired anyway. “I need some clothes. Nadine’s got some of them.”
Louise patted her hand and kept moving.
“I’ll find you something. All of you,” Mira said, and moved off.
Eve closed her eyes and rested. At some point Mira gave her a robe and helped her into a limousine with the similarly clad Peabody and McNab. She was glad Summerset had found the car, although she doubted it had been that lost. They all had trackers on them. When the limo finally pulled up in front of the mansion, it was night. Eve looked up at the four stories. Each window had a light in it. Like candles. It was welcoming, she thought. Not so many years ago there had been just a dark apartment waiting for her. But not now. She gritted her teeth and walked up the stairs. Summerset opened the door.
“No clothes. No shoes. I suppose I had best not ask about the forty-nine Rambler you took to work this morning, Lieutenant.” He sneered coldly.
Eve looked at him. “How long’s Roarke been gone?”
He blinked. “twenty-four days.”
Eve nodded. “Long enough. Help me upstairs, Summerset. I just can’t make it.” And she slung an arm over his shoulders.
A few minutes later, snuggled under the covers of her bed, Eve handed her adversary her necklace she’d rescued from Nadine before it occurred to the reporter to pawn it and buy the news station. Her eyelids wouldn’t stay up and sleep was calling her. She had no doubt she’d be awake soon, the nightmares were just an hour or two away. But for now, sleep called. And when they came, when she whimpered and cried in her sleep, it was he who soothed her with a gentle hand over her brow and low-voiced comfort.
“Morning,” her partner commented, staggering in and collapsing on Eve’s visitor’s chair. “Don’t yell. I took two Sober Ups and two pain blockers. They’ll kick in here shortly.” She put her head in her hands. “Tell me we had fun last night.”
“We have fun in the daytime, too. Did you book those interview rooms?” Eve drank some coffee.
“Twelve and Sixteen.” Peabody swallowed hard, maintaining.
“Which one do you want?” Since they hadn’t done more than seen the two killers, she didn’t have a feeling for either one.
“I’ll take Culper. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who threw the bottle at me.” Her hands lowered to her lap.
“I got fifty mine confesses first.” Eve said it gently, tossing the file into Peabody’s hands. “We start in ten, Detective. Look alive.”
“I wish I wasn’t, Sir.” But she got herself in gear and followed Eve down the hallway.
Brailey Borge looked perfectly capable of being a school teacher. He was medium height, medium build, had medium brown hair and eyes, and wore glasses, brown frames. For some reason, school teacher just rang. Now, he sat in his ill-fitting brown suit and rumpled white shirt, looking like he'd been rousted from a late night at the library. The beat cops who had found him and his partner Culper had caught them sleeping in the stolen RapidCab behind a corner mart.
He’d lawyered up. Eve ignored the lawyer. She read off the details, his Revised Miranda, then sat down in the chair on her side of the table. “Did you understand your rights, Brailey?”
Those brown eyes looked at her with a hard knowledge of the streets. School teacher image died. Street hound replaced the image. “Yeah. What’s this about, Dallas?”
She tipped her head, looking at him. She didn’t place him. Interesting. “I’ve got you on disc killing a very nice woman who refused to give you her purse.” She held up a hand to stop the attorney. “Don’t. The disc is clear. You and Culper, Brailey. It’s down to who turns over first, as far as the district attorney’s office is concerned.” She leaned back in the chair. Waited.
Brailey whispered to his attorney. The attorney whispered back. The attorney leaned forward. “Mr. Borge wishes to make a deal.”
“I’m sure he does.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Peabody whined until Eve had to go with her to get a soy dog at a corner glide cart. Since Culper had confessed faster, and the APA had given him the first deal, Eve was buying. Not that she really minded. She was hungry enough that she added an order of veggie hash with the dog. And she was just digging in her jeans pocket for the credits when the street rumbled.
Everyone froze. Looked down. And it rumbled again. Then there was a muffled explosion and a crater abruptly opened. Pavement went down, some came up. People went down, vehicles went down. Glide carts went down. What looked like half a subway car came up. The noise was like a chainsaw cutting through a kindergarten class. Times a thousand. Maybe a hundred thousand. Eve gave up trying to judge it. It was LOUD.
She and Peabody only had to take a few steps to look down into the hole. Fire, electrical flashes and snaps, water, a heavy wind blowing through and up. People dead, injured, trying to escape the horror. Eve put her hand down and pulled a teenage kid up. Looked behind her. Trueheart stood there. She thrust the kid at him. Baxter lay down on his stomach beside her, reaching down as she had.
“What?” She couldn’t hear him over the other sounds. Or maybe the initial explosion had impaired her hearing.
“We can’t send anyone down until it’s been cleared. Fire Chief’s on his way,” Baxter shouted in her ear. Then he pulled a grandmother – type up, passed her off to Trueheart.
Eve looked around. They were doing this wrong. The people with the most upper body strength needed to be pulling survivors up. She motioned Peabody up and behind her, Trueheart down. Realized she’d be better off helping on top as well. She could bench press her own weight, probably could pull up someone twice her own weight, but not more than a few times. She moved, letting Jenkinson have her spot. Peabody was already getting into the program, beginning to section people off, organizing, processing what had to be done as best they could do at the moment. Eve backed off, started to secure the perimeter with a multitude of drones and droids. Once they were doing that job, she got the MTs placed, had the black and whites make way for the medivans. In some part of her mind she noticed Louise’s arrival and that the dedicated physician looked hung over and still ready to save the world.
The Fire Chief arrived with Cmdr. Whitney and Chief Tibble, evaluated the scene. They had the electricity turned off into the underground and subway areas. But water mains were destroyed and the subway was filling with water fast. City engineers employed levee systems to close off the area, wouldn’t guess more than fifty percent chance they’d hold. It didn’t take long for Eve to know what had to be done to rescue those still alive and trapped. Search and Rescue, Underwater Recovery Unit, US Naval dive teams were all called in. She met Whitney’s eyes. In them she saw the knowledge of what had to be done.
Turning, she strode toward the barriers where Nadine and other press people were penned in by grim cops. They let her through as Eve approached. Eve pulled her behind a medivan. “If I die, Peabody’s got first dibs on Roarke. After he runs through her, you’re next,” she told her friend as she pulled off her coat, thrust it into the reporter’s arms.
“Dallas, what are you doing?” Nadine felt her breath stuttering as Eve began to pull off her boots. Peabody slid up, began taking of her pink cowboy boots. “Peabody? Oh, God!”
“You don’t get McNab, Nadine. He’s going to Reo,” Peabody mumbled, pulling her handmade sweater over her head, piling it on Nadine’s outstretched arms.
Down to underclothing, Eve and Peabody strode to the jagged opening. Headbands with attached underwater lights were passed into their hands. Wordlessly, they exchanged a glance, then allowed Baxter and Trueheart to lower them into the freezing water. Trueheart began to strip. Carmichael as well. The men and women of Cop Central gathered, the disaster right outside their house. They each knew their strengths. Only a strong swimmer would be of use. Another victim wouldn’t help. Or a potential victim. No one said a word when Cmdr. Whitney moved to let Baxter lower him down.
Eve did the best she could. By now, most were simply bodies floating in macabre poses. But some people held on, breathing in pockets of air, trapped or too scared to try and escape. The cold, the darkness, the horror. She didn’t know what had happened. It didn’t matter right now. She dove under and swam, finding the air pockets, finding those who needed to be pulled through the freezing water and shoved up toward hands held down to pull them to safety. Again. Again. Again. She passed Peabody, Trueheart, Carmichael, Whitney. It was like a game. A fucking game where no one would ever win.
When men in black diving suits, slender air tanks sleeked down their sides, joined them, Eve felt ready to collapse. She pushed an unconscious man up, then held her own hands up to be pulled out of the water. Someone, Baxter she thought, carried her to Louise, who efficiently stripped her, wrapped her in a heated blanket and started in with the pressure syringes. Eve was too cold to complain. A few minutes later Peabody was deposited beside her on a guerney, given the same treatment. Then Trueheart, Carmichael, Whitney. Mira came over and sat between Eve and Peabody, took their hands.
Already feeling better as the heated gel blanket eased warmth into her shivering body, Eve let the psychiatrist, hell, her friend, squeeze her hand in comfort. “How’d we do?”
“I’m trying to think of a water polo joke, but nothing’s coming,” Mira explained. “It’s quite distressing.”
“Give me a minute,” Peabody croaked. Then, “Hey baby.” And sighed as McNab put his arms around her.
Eve sighed, thought of Roarke, sighed again as McNab kissed her partner with a heart aching tenderness. She turned her head, met Mira’s eyes, and smiled.
Louise bent over her, flashed a light in her eyes. “I’ve pumped you full of antibiotics, Dallas, and I had to restitch your head. Morris did fine work, but you pulled them out along the way. You’re heading home for bedrest. Promise or I tranq your ass. You got five seconds to decide, I’ve got other patients.” Louise was a no fuss kind of doctor. Even with her friends.
“I’ll go.” She was tired anyway. “I need some clothes. Nadine’s got some of them.”
Louise patted her hand and kept moving.
“I’ll find you something. All of you,” Mira said, and moved off.
Eve closed her eyes and rested. At some point Mira gave her a robe and helped her into a limousine with the similarly clad Peabody and McNab. She was glad Summerset had found the car, although she doubted it had been that lost. They all had trackers on them. When the limo finally pulled up in front of the mansion, it was night. Eve looked up at the four stories. Each window had a light in it. Like candles. It was welcoming, she thought. Not so many years ago there had been just a dark apartment waiting for her. But not now. She gritted her teeth and walked up the stairs. Summerset opened the door.
“No clothes. No shoes. I suppose I had best not ask about the forty-nine Rambler you took to work this morning, Lieutenant.” He sneered coldly.
Eve looked at him. “How long’s Roarke been gone?”
He blinked. “twenty-four days.”
Eve nodded. “Long enough. Help me upstairs, Summerset. I just can’t make it.” And she slung an arm over his shoulders.
A few minutes later, snuggled under the covers of her bed, Eve handed her adversary her necklace she’d rescued from Nadine before it occurred to the reporter to pawn it and buy the news station. Her eyelids wouldn’t stay up and sleep was calling her. She had no doubt she’d be awake soon, the nightmares were just an hour or two away. But for now, sleep called. And when they came, when she whimpered and cried in her sleep, it was he who soothed her with a gentle hand over her brow and low-voiced comfort.
