Redzone (23 page)

Lee knew that a camera was on her and kept her face intentionally blank as she left for the bathroom. That's where she made use of her phone to check voice mail. The first message was from Kane. “Hi, Cassandra . . . Just checking in. I hope you're okay. I enjoyed the date . . . Call me when you can.”

Lee sent him an e-mail: “Thanks for a wonderful dinner—and for kicking the clown's ass. It was a date I won't forget.”

Once she was ready, Lee left the apartment and drove downtown. After parking in the LAPD's underground garage, Lee took the elevator up to the third floor, where she took the usual route through the bullpen. “Hey, Lee,” someone shouted. “I hear you capped a cowboy! Yippee ki yay!”

“And a mime!” another voice added.

“What's next?” a third cop inquired. “Little old ladies?”

But Lee refused to take the bait and went straight to Jenkins's office, where he waved her in. “Good morning,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“How
should
I feel?” Lee inquired as she sat down.

“Well,” Jenkins said, “you were placed on administrative leave pending the findings of a shooting review board. But you've been there and done that.”

“Yeah,” Lee said. “I have.”

“And I see no reason for concern,” Jenkins said. “It was a good shoot. Everyone says so. There were lots of witnesses, all of whom agree that the cowboy tried to kill you. So it was a clear case of self-defense and we should get a speedy turnaround.”

Lee took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “Good.”

Jenkins nodded. “What
isn't
so good is the suspension.”

Lee frowned. “Suspension?
What
suspension?”

“The surviving perps are mutants,” Jenkins said. “And they claim that you were raising hell in the red zone during the time when you were supposed to be on vacation in the San Juans. And that wouldn't be kosher, since you were not only on administrative leave but theoretically on call. So Internal Affairs plans to take a look at that . . . In the meantime you are suspended.”

“So I was placed on administrative leave
and
suspended?”

“I'm afraid so. And that's a first insofar as I know.”

Lee understood the spot Jenkins was in. Even though he knew about her visit to the red zone, he had chosen to ignore it. So his job was in jeopardy as well. That made her feel even worse. But maybe she could fix it. Lee chose her words with great care. “I'm sorry, boss . . . I should have told you. The stuff on the Bonebreaker video hit me hard. Then, when my dying mother asked me to come and see her, I felt I couldn't say no. That's how I got mixed up in some Heevy family politics. And, when Heevy sent assassins to kill my half brother, I tried to protect him. Now it looks like they're after me.”

Jenkins's expression changed subtly. He was already familiar with most of what she'd said. But now he knew how Lee planned to pitch her story to Internal Affairs. She was going to claim that she'd gone AWOL after suffering a job-related episode of PTSD.

It wasn't an ironclad defense, but in the hands of a lawyer
like Marvin Codicil, it could provide Lee with a chance of survival. And protect him as well. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I wish you had been more forthcoming. But I understand the strain you were under—and appreciate the fact that you're coming clean.”

“So I have to go home?”

“I'm afraid so. And leave your badge here. That goes for the arsenal, too.”

“Even though people are gunning for me?”

“Yeah, although the shadow team is still monitoring your home. So that helps. There were more assassins, you know . . . We think three of them were waiting by the gate in case you turned the other way. They took off when the blue suits arrived.”

“That's really special . . . Thanks for letting me know.”

“You're welcome. The doctor did a nice job by the way . . . Who knew the guy could throw a punch?”

“Yeah,” Lee said, as she placed her ID case on his desk. “Who knew?”

“So you two were on a date?”

“No comment,” Lee said as she placed her weapons on the desk. “You can have these, but I have a .45 at home.”

“You can't carry it.”

“Oh, yes I can . . . I've had a concealed weapons permit since I was in college. Dad said every girl should have one.”

Jenkins looked at her. “Stay out of trouble, Cassandra.”

Lee stood. “Yes, sir.” Then she did an about-face and left.

It was a short walk to Yanty's cube, and he was there. “Well,” the detective said, “a
double
suspension. You're lucky it wasn't a triple.”

“They would if they could,” Lee said sourly as she sat down.

“So you're out of here?”

“Yeah . . . I'm afraid so.”

“Take this,” Yanty said, and handed her a cell phone. It was one of the disposables that he kept for undercover use.
Their eyes met. Nothing was said, but Lee understood. The shadow team was monitoring her phone—and it was possible that the assassins were, too.

“Thanks,” Lee said as she slipped it into a pocket. “Say hi to Prospo for me.” And with that, she
left.

THE BONEBREAKER HAD
to step over Cora's corpse in order to exit the house. Her eyes were open, and she was staring up at him. Both bodies had begun to stink—so it was a good time to leave. The Bonebreaker pulled the door closed and checked to ensure that it was locked.

The unassuming four-door sedan was parked in the driveway, and the Bonebreaker had a set of car keys taken from Cora's purse. Once outside he thumbed the remote and saw the parking lights flash on and off. How long would it be before a relative or an employer tried to reach the couple and, having failed to do so, would come to investigate? At least eight hours. And during that time the Bonebreaker figured he could drive the vehicle without worrying about the police pulling him over.

He opened the driver's side door, got in, and discovered that there was no need to push the seat back. A sure sign that Cora's husband had been the last person to drive the car. Not that it mattered. From the house in Northeast Los Angeles, it was a short drive to Glendale, where the Vasquez family lived.
The Bonebreaker had called ten minutes earlier to request what he told Mrs. Vasquez was “a follow-up interview.” To which she had responded by telling him that the family was grateful for Detective Lee's efforts to find the killer.

That served to confirm the Bonebreaker's impression that Lee was personally involved in the case—and gave him the opportunity to claim that he worked for her. A ploy calculated to piss Lee off once she learned of it.

It was a short drive to Glendale and the Vasquez residence. The Bonebreaker parked out front and made his way up the driveway with briefcase in hand. He was wearing the latex mask and skintight transparent finger cots that covered his fingertips. Though difficult to see, they weren't invisible. Still, odds were that if Mrs. Vasquez noticed them she would answer his questions nevertheless, and that was all he cared about.

The Bonebreaker rang the bell, and Mrs. Vasquez opened the door half a minute later. She led him into the living room where a young man was seated. That was a surprise and one the Bonebreaker would be forced to cope with. “My husband is at work,” Mrs. Vasquez explained. “But Marty dropped by. He is . . . he
was
Rudy's best friend.”

There was something about the way she said it, and the look on Marty's face, that claimed the Bonebreaker's attention. A good buddy would be interesting—and a lover even more so. He went over to shake hands. “I'm Detective Harmon . . . It's a pleasure to meet you. Did Detective Lee speak with you?”

Marty wore his hair short, was nicely dressed, and seemed to be more than a little uncomfortable. “No, sir,” he replied.

“Well,” the Bonebreaker said smoothly, “after Mrs. Vasquez and I finish our conversation, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Would that be okay?”

Marty shrugged. “Sure . . . I have to be at work by ten thirty, though. The restaurant opens at eleven.”

“No problem,” the Bonebreaker assured him. “Thank you.”

Then, having turned his attention back to Mrs. Vasquez,
the Bonebreaker produced a piece of paper with some scribbling on it. “Please allow me to apologize in advance,” he said. “Some of my questions may be similar to those that Detective Lee already asked you. But that's how the process works. You'd be surprised at how many people remember additional details during their second interview.”

Mrs. Vasquez nodded dutifully and answered each question. No, she didn't know who would want to kill her son. No, he didn't take drugs or gamble. “Rudy was a policeman,” she said proudly. “He would never do bad things.”

The conversation lasted about ten minutes and was completely unsatisfactory as far as the Bonebreaker was concerned. Up to that point he had been unable to gather any new information. Still, that meant Lee was SOL too, and that was interesting.

“Thank you,” the Bonebreaker said as he folded the meaningless piece of paper and slipped it into the briefcase. “Here's an idea . . . I noticed a cafe out on the main arterial. Marty and I could go there and have a cup of coffee. That would leave you free to get on with your morning.”

Both of the other parties seemed to like the idea—which suggested that neither one was entirely comfortable with the other. So the Bonebreaker and Marty said their good-byes and got into their respective cars. The Bonebreaker led the way, and Marty followed.

Five minutes later, the two of them were seated across from each other in the Green Onion cafe. It was a busy place that catered to a lot of what appeared to be regulars. Once their orders were placed the Bonebreaker got to the point. “Is Mrs. Vasquez correct? Rudy didn't use drugs? And he didn't gamble?”

“Heck no,” Marty said. “Rudy was a full-on Eagle Scout.”

“Okay,” the Bonebreaker said. “So, how about Rudy's sex life . . . Was he straight? Or gay?”

“We were a couple until three months ago,” Marty answered.

“What happened?”

Marty looked away. “I cheated on him. He caught me, and that was that. Rudy wasn't a second-chance kind of guy.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” the Bonebreaker said. “So, how about other lovers? Did he have other relationships after you two split?”

The coffee arrived at that point—so there was a short wait before the Bonebreaker got to hear Marty's reply. “I don't know for sure,” he said. “But judging from what I've heard, the answer would be no. We met at a club called the Hi-Jinx—and friends tell me that Rudy was spending lots of time there.”

The Bonebreaker felt a rising sense of interest. “Hoping to meet someone perhaps?”

Marty shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

The Bonebreaker had what he needed, which was a trail to follow. But it was necessary to go through the motions of asking more questions so he did. And when he cut Marty loose, the young man was clearly eager to leave. The Bonebreaker waited for Marty to exit the restaurant. Then, conscious of his skimpy budget, he left without paying the bill.

*   *   *

Two days had passed since Lee had been suspended. Two miserable days during which Lee wanted to work but couldn't. She awoke to the sound of a repetitive noise. She thought it was the alarm clock at first but then realized that her phone was ringing. She fumbled it on. “Lee here.”

“This is Marvin,” Codicil said. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

Lee groaned. “Okay, give me the good news first.”

“The findings of the shooting review board will be announced at 2:00
P.M.
, and I think both of us will be pleased with the results. You don't
have
to attend—but it would be good form to do so.”

Lee yawned. “Good, thank you. I'll be there. And the bad news?”

“I had hoped that the Internal Affairs people would drop the other investigation,” Codicil replied. “But they didn't. So you are scheduled to sit down with them at 3:00
P.M.
today. I will be present as well. Let's discuss that immediately after the announcement by the shooting review board.”

Lee wanted to ask questions but knew why she couldn't. The shadow team was tapping her phone, and for all she knew, Heevy's assassins were as well. And that's why the line had been left active . . . So that the techies could look for an additional tap and try to trace it. “Got it,” Lee said. “I'll see you at HQ. Thanks.”

Lee got up after that, took a shower, and got dressed. A two-piece suit seemed like the most appropriate choice even though she couldn't wear that and ride the bike, too.

And, since Lee would have to enter the building through the lobby, and pass through a metal detector, the gun would have to remain at home. That left her feeling naked.

Lee took a taxi downtown, made her way through security, and was cleared to go upstairs. Once on the third floor she was able to corral both Yanty and Prospo for a meeting that they weren't supposed to have. It took place in a small conference room behind closed doors. “So, how's it going?” Lee wanted to know. “Have we made any progress?”

“I don't know that you could call it progress,” Prospo said soberly. “But it looks like the Bonebreaker paid a visit to Mrs. Vasquez.”

“What?”
Lee demanded. “How so?”

“A man claiming to be Detective Lou Harmon called, made an appointment, and stopped by the house,” Prospo replied. “We found out about the visit when Mrs. Vasquez tried to call you and was referred to me. She wanted to thank you for putting another person on the case.”

“The bastard,” Lee said tightly. “He chose Harmon in order to piss us off.”

“True,” Yanty agreed mildly. “And we know it was him because only he could have Harmon's ID. And that supports
our theory. The Bonebreaker
didn't
kill Vasquez, and he's trying to tell us that.”

“So what did Wolfe and Jenkins say?”

Prospo made a face. “They took it upstairs. But Chief Corso wasn't buying. He says the fact that the Bonebreaker stopped by could mean that he's trying to see how much we know, he's rolling in his own shit, or he's jerking us around.”

“So you aren't allowed to work the imposter theory?”

“It's the old chicken-and-egg problem,” Yanty said. “We aren't supposed to look at the imposter theory unless we have hard evidence to support it and, since we aren't looking for that sort of evidence, we aren't likely to find any. The whole thing is bullshit.”

After the get-together with Prospo and Yanty, Lee made her way to the conference room where the shooting review board was scheduled to deliver their findings. And, in keeping with Codicil's prediction, it was a good shoot. The killing had been justified—and Lee could return to duty.

Unfortunately, the suspension was still in effect pending the findings of the IA investigators into “. . . what may have been unauthorized travel and activities during the time that Detective Lee was on administrative leave.” So any good feelings that Lee might have felt at that moment were erased by the knowledge that her job was still on the line. And that was very much on her mind as she went to meet with Codicil in the cafeteria.

“One down, and one to go,” the lawyer said matter-of-factly, as they sat down. “Okay . . . The best way to prepare for the interview is to review general concepts rather than rehearse lines. The thrust of your defense is that you suffered a job-related trauma so severe that the department not only put you on administrative leave, but placed you in the care of a psychologist. And that's where you need to open up and show some vulnerability.

“Mark my words, Cassandra . . . Your hard-assed-cop persona is fine for the street, but it could hurt you here . . .
The ‘nothing bothers me' manner that you project most of the time will give them the impression that the video of your father's death didn't bother you—and that would imply that you knew what you were doing when you entered the red zone. So keep that in mind. And cry if you can.”

Lee wasn't about to cry—no damned way. But she understood what Codicil was telling her and promised to do her best. The interview lasted twenty minutes and Lee kept it simple. She was distraught, and when she received a letter from her dying mother, she took off for the red zone without checking on the rules. Then she found herself at the center of a family feud and left as quickly as she could. The end.

There were two investigators. One male and one female. Lee had met both on previous occasions but wasn't acquainted with either one of them. She marveled at how expressionless their faces were. Had they gone to a special class or something?

The male was a guy named Farrow. Detective Dave Farrow. He had a round face and the manner of a Jesuit priest.

The other investigator was a beady-eyed woman named Marlo Orkov. Her black bangs were so straight, they might have been cut with a laser—and Orkov's long nose was reminiscent of a bird's beak. And, judging from the expression on her face, she was sucking on a sour ball. “So,” Orkov said, once Lee had finished her narrative. “You indicate that Dr. Kane can verify the severity of the trauma you suffered. But isn't it true that you are currently having an affair with the doctor? A fact that could influence what he says?”

Lee felt the blood rush to her face and saw Codicil frown from the corner of her eye. She had neglected to mention the relationship with Kane, and he was pissed. “Yes,” Lee admitted reluctantly. “I guess it could.”

Farrow nodded. “There's something else as well . . . According to the suspects arrested on the pier—you killed a number of people during your visit to the red zone. And you were working for the LAPD at the time.”

“Detective Lee was attacked and forced to defend herself,” Codicil interjected. “And, as you stipulated, she was in the red zone at the time. Based on the way the department's regulations are written, they apply to members of the LAPD who are operating in the city of Los Angeles. No mention is made of the red zone. That means that Detective Lee was under no obligation to follow departmental regulations while visiting the Republic of Texas.”

The look that Orkov directed at the attorney was so pointed that Lee feared it would strike him dead. But Codicil smiled as if immune to anything other than an actual spear. “Is there anything else?” he inquired sweetly.

Farrow shook his head. “We will submit our report in a week or so . . . Until that time Detective Lee's suspension remains in effect. You can and should report to work . . . But your activities will be limited to administrative matters. Is that clear?”

Lee nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Good. This hearing is adjourned.”

Lee left the room with Codicil right behind her. Once they were out in the hall, she turned, and he took her to task. “That was stupid, Cassandra.
Very
stupid. If you want to keep your job you must tell me
everything
. Is there anything more that I should know?”