Flashpoint (29 page)

“This have anything to do with that dude got roasted in his car?”

Sonora licked her finger and nodded. “Tell me about this Sheree La Fontaine and Shonelle.”

“No love lost, that's for sure. Always fighting over … get ready. Clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“See, they both work the streets, right? And some of the girls, I'm talking about Sheree here, stash clothes in out-of-the-way places around their hangouts. Might need a switch during the night, sometimes they change if the cops run them in, you know the drill. And Sheree says Shonelle keeps taking her stuff, and buddy, they got into it big-time last month. I'm talking a hair-pulling, cussing, spitting cat fight.”

“What's the dope on this Sheree, anyway?”

“From down south somewhere, the Carolinas I think. I hope she's not par for the course, because if she is and the South does rise again, we all be in for some shit.”

“Could you get a little more specific?”

“Weird, Sonora, even for an addict. Sits in the bars and lights matches. Shonelle is twice her size, but went after her, digging with those fingernails like a maniac. Course, hooker addicts aren't exactly your average bear, you get me?”

“You see her around the night the Daniels kid got killed?”

“Let me think. That was … Tuesday week, that right?”

Sonora nodded.

“You know, come to think, I did see her. Around midnight, getting in a car with some john. I didn't get much look at the guy, so I don't know if it was your boy.”

“My guy was up in Mount Adams at midnight. On his way to die.”

Ruby looked grim. “Yeah, well.”

Sonora yawned. “I got to go home and kiss my kids before they go to school.”

“How they doing?”

“Good, except my son's flunking algebra. How's yours?”

“She's fine. Potty trained, finally, thank you, Jesus.” Ruby glanced down at the page of notes, then looked back up at Sonora. “Me and my ex, you know, we just don't go good together. But he's helping me with tuition, and he keeps the baby sometimes. Now, most girls I know, their ex just walks off and leaves them with the babies, never even looks back. Lot of anger out there, Sonora. Lot of girls I talk to just nod and say maybe this guy got burned up, maybe he brought it all on his own head.”

“He didn't, Ruby.”

“Hell of a way to go.”

Sonora nodded. “Listen, there's no food in my house. There an all-night grocery store anywhere close?”

“Nothing but that Kwik Stop, and they charge an arm and a leg.”

“I look rich to you?”

43

Sonora was thinking that she had bought everything except milk, when she turned the corner toward home. In a split second of clarity she saw the flashing blue lights, the police cars, the open front door.

Remembered Selma's words—
I'll pay you back good
.

Sonora slammed on the brakes, opened the car door, and was on the pavement as the parking gear caught and the Nissan rocked backward. Out of the corner of one eye, she could see the wary stance of the patrolman in the second car, see his hand cover the gun on his hip as she ran toward his partner.

“What the hell's going on here?”

The uniform on the radio was young, dark hair cropped short. He clicked his radio off, blinked. “Everything's all right, ma'am.”

“This is my house, okay? I've got kids inside.”

The screen door slammed. Stuart headed her way, taking the porch steps two at time. His shirttail hung over his jeans, and his shoelaces were untied.

“Where are the kids?”

“They're all right, Sonora. Everybody's okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up on the side.

Sonora folded her arms, closed her eyes a short moment, took a deep breath.

“Ma'am, did you say you live here?”

It was the one who had touched his gun. Light brown hair, thick neck.

“Detective Blair, I work homicide. And yeah, I live here.”

The dark-haired one, the steady one, was nodding at her. “We got a call, nine-one-one, possible intruder—”

Sonora heard the door open. Heather ran toward her, arms out, face tear-stained and pale. Something bad.

Sonora looked at Stuart. “Where's Tim?”

“Right here.” Tim shut the front door and followed his sister down the steps.

Sonora put her arms around Heather, gave Tim a hug. He did not pull away. She lifted Heather up in her arms, groaned as the weight of her growing child hit her in the small of the back.

“So, what's up kidlets?”

“Let me tell it,” Tim said. “We heard somebody outside the house, and—”

“She pulled on the knob, Mommy! On the back door, we saw her.”

“Her?” Sonora swallowed hard.

Tim folded his arms across his chest. “I thought it was you. I almost opened the door. But Clampett was barking, and he yelped and I looked out the curtain, and it
wasn't
you.”

“So then what?”

“She knocked on the glass real hard!” Heather burst into tears and buried her face in Sonora's shoulder.

Tim looked tense and young. “I called Uncle Stuart, and he called nine-one-one. That was right, wasn't it?”

Sonora put a hand lightly on her son's shoulder. “It was perfect.”

He nodded, cheeks flushed, lips tight. “We can't find Clampett.”

Stuart bent down to tie a shoe. “We'll find him, Tim.”

Sonora set her daughter down. “Did you get a good look at this woman, Tim?”

“Short hair, like to here.” He touched his collarbone. “Blond. She was little, like you, Mom. She looked funny.”

“Funny?”

He shrugged. “Weird.”

The patrol officer grinned and tousled her son's hair. “I bet I could put my feet up and let him write the report.”

Sonora looked at her brother. “You get a look at her?”

“Long gone by the time I got here.” He bent down, picked up Heather, balanced her on his hip. She wore nothing but a nightgown, and her long thin legs had chill bumps.

“Cold, baby?” Sonora put her blazer around her daughter's shoulders. She looked at the uniforms. “You guys had a chance to take a look around?”

“Just a quick one.” Thick neck.

Sonora nodded. “Stuart, why don't you take the kids inside and—” Sonora heard a whimper and looked over her shoulder. The three-legged dog bounded toward her, something yellow streaming from the side of his mouth. Clampett barked, doggy breath frosting white in the chill air.

Sonora braced herself as the heavy muddy paws landed against her shoulders. Clampett's tail swished back and forth, thumping Heather's bare legs.

“Want to dance, pup?” Sonora put her hands on the dog's soft muzzle, pried open the black-rimmed jaws, wrestled a large round lump off the back of the thick ham tongue. Clampett barked and jumped, and Sonora twisted sideways, playing keep-away.

The dark-haired cop looked pale. “What is that?”

Sonora held up the soggy blond head so he could see. “Barbie. Or parts thereof.” She studied the wet, plastic doll head, wondering about prints.

It was muddy out in the yard. Stuart took the kids inside to make hot chocolate while Sonora walked the perimeter of her property, circling closer and closer, to the house, the dark-haired uniform at her heels. The volleyball net sagged across the middle of the backyard, and the lawn was overgrown and brown, thick grass limp with dew.

She wondered what Flash had thought of the plastic kiddie pool filled with trolls and algae-coated water, the basketball wedged under the rusted-out slide, the plastic playhouse so full of old toys the door bulged open.

There were footprints outside Sonora's bedroom window and another set by Heather's.

The thick-necked cop rounded the corner of the yard and jogged over, hand holding the radio snug to his belt. “CSU van is on the way. I asked your brother to stay inside with the kids for the time being.”

Sonora nodded and sat down on the bottom porch step. The uniforms moved discreetly away and talked together in low voices, pretending not to notice while Sonora put her head on her knees.

44

Sonora slopped coffee into her lipstick-stained mug. She was late, the task force had already assembled. Her phone rang before she could get away from her desk. Sonora sighed and picked it up.

“Hey, girlfriend, how's the kids?”

Sonora sat back down. Gritted her teeth. “You listen to me—”

“No, you. I'll make you'uns a deal. Leave Keaton alone, I'll leave them alone. Think about it.”

The line went dead. Sonora's palms were slippery on the receiver, and the phone smacked hard on the desk when she lost her grip. She took a breath, hung the phone up gently. Closed her eyes, opened them. Took a notepad off her desk and headed for her meeting.

They were watching a videotape of the latest press conference Sonora squinted at the screen, wondering if it was her imagination, or if she was showing just a hint of double chin.

Gruber looked up. “That's a nice tie, Sonora, but what happened to the one with the catsup on it?”

Crick shushed him. “Watch for the next part, it's good.”

On-screen, Sonora cocked her head to one side and told the reporters that the investigation was moving forward swiftly and it was only a matter of time. Yes, she was the case detective and would make the arrest herself. The DA's office was waiting for lab results, merely a formality. They had been lucky with witnesses, and, quite frankly, the killer had made a number of careless mistakes.

If the killer wanted to talk, Sonora was certainly available, and she gave her number. It would be in the perpetrator's best interests to turn herself in. She would be handled sympathetically, the police department would see that she got the proper help, and a lawyer would be provided free of charge.

Yes, the perp was a woman, a sad case, very disturbed, pathetic really, not particularly bright.

The room got quiet. Normally, this last would bring a howl of laughter and the theory that Sonora would be the next victim. Sonora rubbed her eyes and wished she was as close to arrest and wrap-up as the confident woman on-screen.

“Good job, Sonora,” Crick said.

Gruber crossed a heavy foot over one knee. “Yeah, too good. I don't like what happened at Sonora's house this morning, kids and all. I think you're throwing her out there, sir, and look what we get.”

“Action, reaction,” Crick said.

Sonora felt her face get warm and pink.

“Yeah, with Sonora's neck on the line.” This last from Molliter.

Sonora was surprised. Then wary. Was this camaraderie, or over-protection? Did it matter, with her children caught in the middle? What would they say if they knew where she'd spent the night?

Crick looked at Sonora. “CSU get anything?”

“Not a lot. Partial right thumb on my daughter's window. Toe smear in the mud. Terry also told me Sheree La Fontaine's prints don't match the one they took off the Polaroid that Flash sent to Keaton Daniels.” Sonora did not look at Molliter.

Sanders tapped her chin. “Sir, I was wondering if we could utilize the feds on this.”

Gruber hooted with laughter. “Utilize the feds? That's sweet, honey. Then maybe we can teach the Aryan brothers to sing ‘We Shall Overcome.'”

Sonora rubbed her eyes, kept her voice low-key. “We've asked for help in that quarter, Sanders, but it's just a formality. Leave no stone unturned, you know? FBI doesn't come in unless there's a signed warrant with the suspect's name.”

“Yeah, they're happy to take the collar, long's they don't have to put out.”

Molliter folded his arms. He looked unhappy. “Look, Sonora, maybe you're overdoing it on this Daniels guy.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“She may just move on to the next victim.”

“I think it's pretty clear she's fixated,” Sam said.

Sonora kept her mouth shut. Dangerous ground.

Gruber waved a hand. “Okay, but why has she got this thing with Sonora? It's almost like they're rivals or girlfriends or something. I mean, Sonora's a cop—”

“I told you, it's catch-me-if-you-can,” Sonora said. “It happens.”

Crick folded his arms. “It happens when the perp is flipping out. Which makes her that much more dangerous.” He pointed at Sonora. “You still want to go to Atlanta?”

“Sir?”

“Been talking to your buddy down there, Bonheur. Selma Yorke's name showed up in the file of possibles they put together after the attack on James Selby.”

Sam put a hand on Sonora's shoulder. “
Here
we go, darlin'. Here we go.”

“Blair,” Crick said. “About what I said earlier—action, reaction. What do
you
think set her off?”

Sonora swallowed. “TV interview, obviously, sir.” Bad policewoman, she thought. Her chest was tight. Was that what guilt felt like? Had Zack felt this way when he cheated?

Crick was nodding. “What would you say to one of those radio call-in things? Think she could resist talking to you?”

Sam shook his head. “I don't like this.”

“We'll have somebody with her kids,” Crick said.

Sonora cleared her throat. “It's just—”

“Just what? If she reacts that much to a taped interview, I think she'll go nuts to talk to you live.”

“Talking on the radio would make me nervous, sir.”

“Get over it, Blair.”

45

The city of Atlanta throbbed with sunshine and noisy traffic. Sonora squinted and put on a pair of dark sunglasses. An unmarked police car pulled into the circle drive in front of the hotel and parked illegally. A black man in a lightweight tan suit got out of the car, leaving the driver's door hanging open.

“Detective Sonora Blair?” He pointed large fingers at her like a gun.