After Midnight (7 page)

Now it was Kate’s turn to smile. “I can imagine.”

They worked together and were soon on their way out the front door. Main Street was crowded with people visiting the shops or stopping to take pictures. Kate and Sam headed toward the midway area where there was a beer garden–type restaurant. Sam passed on the barbecue sandwich because he didn’t want to make a mess and chose a foot-long hot dog instead, reasoning that anyone could eat a hot dog with one hand. Kate ordered a corn dog and a bottle of water. She carried their food and her water to a picnic table while he also got a bottle of water and paid.

“I haven’t had a corn dog in ages. Probably since the last time I went to the Texas state fair.”

“Those things will kill you.”

“Oh, yeah, like they’re so much worse than a hot dog.”

She dipped the corn dog in mustard and took a big bite. “Hmmm, delicious.”

He took a bite of his hot dog and grinned. “You’re right. Some things don’t need to be analyzed.”

Kate nodded and smiled. “Just enjoyed.”

Their gazes met and, for a moment, they realized they weren’t just talking about the food.

Sam picked up his water bottle and tried to hold it in his right hand, which was still held against his chest with a sling. His left hand fumbled with the cap, and Kate reached over and easily twisted it off.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask for help,” she scolded.

“That doesn’t come easy,” he admitted. “I come from a family that dares not show weakness.”

“Law of the jungle…only the strong survive.”

“And I’ve always been strong.”

“Me, too. I guess we have that in common.”

“Among other things.” He wadded up his trash and tossed it toward the large garbage can. When it went wide to the left, he grimaced. “Okay, so that’s one of the things I haven’t learned how to compensate for. But wait until you see me shoot baskets with my right hand.” He took her trash and dropped it into the can, then picked up his and dunked it as if it were regulation height rather than four feet off the ground.

“You men always talk a good game, but I was all-state on my basketball team in high school.”

“Okay, you and me, one-on-one, as soon as I’m back in shape,” he challenged.

“Too bad you’re out of commission, or we could race on the alpine sleds.”

Sam took her hand and pulled her along. “Let’s go. I can get by with one arm.”

She tried to talk him out of it all the way up the steep hill to the top, but he was determined to make it happen. When they got to the area where they had to pick up their sleds, he had a hint of a sanity check. But it was too late to back out now, so he managed to carry and position the sled with one hand.

Kate kept a worried eye on him as they settled onto their sleds in their individual tracks. The course consisted of two rounded tracks with high sides that ran almost parallel to each other down the hill to the station area.

“Have you ever ridden one of these before?” he asked.

“Not this one, but yes, I’ve ridden on a couple.”

“So you know how to handle the brake if you want to slow down.”

The starter asked, “Ready?”

Sam and Kate both nodded, and the starter released the gate. Kate flashed a wide smile at Sam and shouted, “I never slow down.” Then they were off.

His bundled arm was actually no hindrance at all once he was on the sled. His left hand was on the brake, but he, like Kate, rarely used it. Controlling the smoothness of the turns and speed on the downslopes by shifting their bodies from side to side, they raced down the hill, neck and neck until his sled inched in front of hers, probably because of his weight advantage rather than his greater skill. They slid into the finish, both laughing out loud from the exhilaration.

Sam had a moment of awkwardness getting up, but he managed to lift his sled off the track and put it on the rack so it could go back up to the top.

“That was great!” Kate’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Sam had never seen her so animated, and he felt inordinately pleased that he had been part of her happiness. “You won, even with only one hand.”

“You’re tough competition.” He smiled back at her and reached out and brushed a long, silky strand of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. His gaze lowered to her lips, and he realized he had never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he wanted to kiss her.

Behind them two more sleds squeaked to a stop, and their riders’ chatter brought Sam back to reality. He took a step backward. This wasn’t the time or place for their first kiss or anything else, even though there were several things he’d like to explore later, at a more appropriate time.

Kate, too, looked disappointed and a little embarrassed. But she let him take her hand again as they walked back to the midway area.

The two hours passed much too quickly, and, all too soon, Sam escorted her back to the Music Hall.

“Are you staying for the show?” she asked.

“No, I’ve got to get back. My brothers and a couple of guys we know always get together for a poker game on Sunday nights.”

She gave him a last teasing smile. “Hope you’re not the dealer. Shuffling would be a challenge.”

He stood for a moment longer, not wanting to let her go. But the audience was starting to arrive, and he knew she had to go inside and get ready.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “As soon as I talk to the detective in charge of this case at the station.”

“Thanks for…well, everything. I really enjoyed today. And I appreciate your help.”

“We’ll get through this,” he promised. “And then we’ll see—”

She nodded. “That’s sounds good to me.”

Sam reluctantly unlaced her fingers from his and stepped away. He knew he would really suck at poker tonight because his mind would be miles away, following her through her routine and worrying about her driving home alone so late at night.

“Call me when you get home so I know you made it okay,” he told her as an afterthought.

“I don’t have your phone number. You have it blocked.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a cop thing.”

“Wouldn’t want the wrong person to get your number,” she teased.

“Got your phone with you?”

She nodded and pulled it out of her pants pocket. He took it and programmed in his number.

“But I want to make sure the right person has it,” he said, and handed her phone back to her. “Call me.”

“Maybe.”

He broke his own rule about waiting for the right time and place and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The softness of her lips and her quick response almost made him forget they had an audience. He had meant to just make an impression on her, not to embarrass them both. It took all his self-control to let her go. “Call me,” he whispered, his lips only inches from hers.

“Absolutely,” she promised weakly.

“I don’t feel like my series of articles is complete without interviewing the girl. I really need to talk to her.” Brian realized he was leaning forward and forced himself to relax…or at least to appear to be relaxed. This was his fourth visit to the detective’s office since the night of the shooting, and while he was always warmly welcomed there, Brian still felt a little nervous. There was something about being inside the police station that was a little intimidating, even when he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. It was similar to the discomfort of walking into a doctor’s office but with an earthy, sweaty smell.

Detective Jim Luccardi nodded. “Yeah, so do we.”

“I can’t believe she still hasn’t been found.” Then, as if he realized the cop might interpret that as being critical, Brian hurried to add, “I mean, it wasn’t like she’s a suspect or anything.”

“There are three kinds of witnesses: the ones who saw a little bit but either their memory stinks or they couldn’t even describe their own grandmother, the ones who don’t want to talk about what they saw, and the ones who won’t shut up.” The detective tilted back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.

“What happens if you never find her?”

“Then we forget about her. Frankly, it’s all pretty much an open-and-shut case. The shooter’s dead. You were a Good Samaritan who saved a cop’s life. There’s not going to be a trial.” Jim shrugged. “Right now we’re just doing a routine investigation, but it’s mostly administrative bullshit.”

There was a knock on the open door, and then Sam entered Jim’s office. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nah, Brian was just getting an update,” Jim explained.

Sam collapsed on the other chair. “Whew. First day of PT, and it was a son of a bitch.”

“It gets worse.” Jim took an extra large bottle of Advil out of his bottom drawer and tossed it to Sam, who juggled it a couple of times with his left hand but finally managed to catch it.

“You and my brothers are real freakin’ cheerleaders. Do you have any water in your little fridge?” When Jim reached around and took out a bottle, Sam quickly stood. “Don’t throw it. I can’t take any more pain today.”

Jim obligingly leaned over and handed Sam the cold bottle of water. Sam sat back down and, after a little clumsiness, managed to open the Advil, shake out three, put the cap back on, and toss it back to Jim. He popped the capsules into his mouth and took a big drink.

“No pain pills?” Jim asked. “I can probably find you a couple of those, too.”

“Not till later. I’ve got a few more errands today and I don’t want to get goofy.”

Brian had been sitting back, observing the exchange quietly. When there was a lull, he spoke up. “Hey, man. Glad to see you’re up and around.”

“Thanks to you,” Sam answered. “I saw the article you wrote about the funeral. Good job.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been to a cop funeral before. It was pretty impressive.”

“We pay tribute to our own,” Jim said when Sam grew quiet. “This is only the third DPD officer killed in the line of duty since 2005, but every one is a tragedy.”

As casually as possible, Brian asked Sam, “I thought I saw a woman at the funeral who sort of looked like that hooker.”

“Really?” Sam asked impassively.

“Yeah, I thought I saw you talking to her after the service.”

Sam thought about that for a second. “I talked to several women after the service. I’m not sure which one you mean.” He turned to Jim. “So I take it she hasn’t come forward yet.”

“No sign of her. Around here, we’re calling her the Phantom Hooker.” Jim smiled, then changed the subject. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the poker game last night.”

“Hot date?” Sam asked.

“I was hoping, but it was a dud.”

“So you didn’t get laid?”

Jim chuckled. “I didn’t say that.”

Brian had been listening to the interchange with a total lack of interest. It didn’t appear the conversation was going to go back to the subject he wanted to talk about, so he stood up. “I’ll check back tomorrow. Let me know if you hear anything,” he said casually, but he watched their expressions as they both nodded.

So that’s how they’re going to play it,
he thought. Years of talking to people and watching their body language had made him almost as good at it as most cops. And even though these two were playing it close to the vest, he had a gut feeling that at least one of them knew more than he was letting on.

Brian dared not make waves. Because of his role in the shooting, the cops had shown their gratitude by giving him unprecedented access so he could write his story. That insider track had not only provided great information, but had given him a huge advantage over his competition. Even
People
magazine hadn’t had all the facts he had gathered when they printed their story in the current issue. They had even quoted him on several details.

But, for some reason, he suspected the cops were shutting him out now, and it just pissed him off.
Play nice,
Brian, he admonished himself.
You’re almost in the big leagues now. Don’t blow it
. So he forced a smile and left the room.

Sam didn’t turn his head, but he watched Brian as he walked down the hall and stopped in front of the elevators. The doors opened and Brian stepped inside. It wasn’t until the doors closed and the elevator began its journey down to the lobby that Sam reached out with his good arm and pushed Jim’s office door shut.

“You found her, didn’t you?” Jim asked, perceptive as usual.

“We’ve talked a couple of times,” Sam answered, downplaying the fact that they had actually spent several hours together and that the last voice he had heard last night before he drifted off to sleep was hers. They had talked on the phone for over an hour after she got home.

“Is she back on the streets?”

Sam leaned back, trying to find a soft spot on the hard, uncomfortable chair. It was an old but effective trick to keep witnesses or even victims on edge during interviews. If they were busy thinking about their own discomfort, they were more likely to slip up and tell the truth.

“You’re killing me here,” he grumbled, knowing Jim was amused at his distress.

“Man up! You want me to get you a cushion?”

Sam scoffed. “You could let me sit in your chair.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

Jim was only a couple of years older than Sam, but he had swiftly moved up the ranks to become a detective, while Sam had chosen to stay on patrol. It was days like this that Sam questioned the sanity of his decision. The two men had quickly become good friends and, since both were single, they spent a lot of time together outside of work, too.

It was because they knew each other so well that Jim’s expression sobered. “So where is she?”

Sam relayed her story as she had told it to him and the results of his own research. Jim listened, occasionally interrupting with a question, but mostly just absorbing the information.

“You didn’t actually see Brian shoot the kid, did you?”

“No, I was on the ground. I think I even blacked out for a second or two,” Sam answered, knowing where this was going, but determined to do all he could for Kate.

“Then she is the only person to actually witness the shooting. If she wasn’t, we could just sort of blow it off because there’s nothing to really investigate. But because we can’t ignore a witness, we
have
to get her statement.”

“She knows that, and she’s perfectly willing to come in. She just wanted a little protection.”

“So she wants us to keep this on the down low for how long?” he asked.

“She just wants to keep her identity out of the press.”

“Can she come in today to give me a statement?”

Sam nodded. “She’s waiting to hear from me.”

“Does she have a lawyer?”

“No. Does she need one?”

“Not that I can tell.” Jim rubbed his hand along the line of his jaw as he considered the request. “You know this is not normally the way we do business. But she did save a cop.”

“This has been rough on her, too. Can’t we cut her a break?”

Jim shrugged. “Sure, go ahead and give her a call. If she cooperates, I’ll bury her name. We don’t have to release anything until the investigation is officially over. And that could take a while.”

Sam smiled, relieved that he had been able to pave the way. Now it was up to her to follow through. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and made the call.

The police station wasn’t too far from her apartment, so Kate was able to get there within a half hour of Sam’s call. She was nervous, but it helped knowing that Sam would be there, too. She waited at the reception desk in the lobby, watching all the elevators until one opened and he stepped out.

His handsome face softened into a smile when he saw her. “Thanks, Joe. She’s with me,” he told the cop who sat behind the desk, monitoring the arrivals and departures from the building. Then, with his left hand firmly against the small of her back, he guided Kate to the elevators and inside the first one that opened. She started to speak, and he shook his head. “We’ll talk in Jim’s office.”

Once inside the detective’s office, Sam again closed the door. He intentionally established a distance between him and her, but the warmth of his gaze reassured her that she had his support.

Jim stood when she entered and extended his hand across the desk. “I’m Detective Luccardi, and I’m handling the investigation of the incident. First, I’ve got to read you your rights.”

She flashed a panicky look at Sam. Sam gave her an encouraging nod, and she turned back to Jim. “Am I being arrested?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just protocol—more of a formality. We don’t expect anything to come from this interview. It’s just important that we hear what you saw and what you know.”

“Okay,” she agreed, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights I have just read to you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, Miss McKinney. May I call you Kate?”

“Yes, of course.”

He took a printed form from his desk and slid that and a pen across the desk toward her. “I need you to actually write out your statement. Try not to leave anything out, even something that may seem insignificant to you. Just start from the beginning and include everything that happened that evening.”

She picked up the pen, but still she hesitated.

“You don’t have to include any personal information that is not pertinent to that evening. Sam has explained your situation to me, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you out of the records for as long as possible. Hopefully, by the time anything is released, public interest will have died down, and it will just be quietly filed away.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

Jim stood and picked up his coffee cup. “Sam and I will wait outside until you finish. Then I’m sure I’ll have some questions. Oh, and don’t sign it until I return.”

Kate nodded and gave them both a shaky smile as they left the room, closing the door behind them. Of course, the walls were glass halfway down, so they could still see her. But the half-drawn vertical blinds gave her a modicum of privacy from the rest of the offices.

She took a deep breath and started writing. It was still so fresh in her mind that the words flowed from her pen. Before long, she had filled both the front and almost the entire back of the page. Her hand was starting to cramp. She laid down the pen and flexed her fingers.

The door opened and the detective and Sam returned to their chairs. She pushed the paper back across the desk. “I haven’t written that much since college,” she said.

“At least it’s legible,” Jim told her. “You should see some of the statements I get. You’d think they were in a foreign language.” He leaned back and read it through. Kate exchanged a nervous smile with Sam as they waited.

Jim flipped to the back and continued reading. “So, you’ve known this Jameel guy for how long?”

“We met about a week after I moved to Denver last January.”

“How well did you know him?”

“Apparently, not as well as I thought.”

“Did he always carry a gun?”

“I never saw it before, but from the stories he told about his neighborhood, he probably did.”

“Now don’t take this badly, but I have to ask, and please tell me the truth,” Jim cautioned. “Have you ever performed any sex act for compensation of any kind?”

Kate felt a blush warm her cheeks, but she looked him straight in the eyes and answered firmly, “No, I have not. I’m a legitimate actress, and I was hired to play a part.”

“Apparently, you played it well.” Jim made some notes on a yellow legal pad. “You actually witnessed Brian Bergan shoot Jameel Marcus, correct?”

“Yes, I saw Jameel shoot Officer Resnick and Officer Wilson, first, then I saw Mr. Bergan shoot Jameel.”

“No one else was present?”

“Not at that time, no.”

“Did you ever see any evidence of a film crew or hear from them since that night?”

“No, but they didn’t have any contact information for me that I know of.”

Jim wrote a few more notes, then handed her the page again. “Okay, go ahead and sign this statement, and I’ll enter it into my report.”

She signed and dated the form on the back and initialed the front page at the bottom as he indicated, then returned it to him.

“Are you going to try to find the production company?” Sam asked.

“I’ll make a few calls, but I don’t think anything is going to come of it. It could have been college kids doing a guerrilla shoot. No permits, no notifications. They just hit the streets or the mall or whatever and shoot a scene or two, pack up, and are gone before anyone notices or complains.” The detective took a folder off his pile and filed Kate’s statement and his notes in it, then put it in his drawer.

“So, we’re good?” Sam stood.

“I’ve got all I need.” Jim also stood and held out his hand to Kate. “It was very nice meeting you, Miss McKinney. I’ll call you if I have any more questions, but this should be the end of it.”