Night Shield (16 page)

“Maybe.” She nodded as she walked back out of the bedroom. “It was enough to make her start thinking. Worrying. She didn’t notice when I left. She was busy, but Frannie did. She might have mentioned it to Jan in passing.”

She picked her way through the living room, into the kitchen. “So she called it off, but just a little
too late. Too late to save his sister. Doesn’t look like he bothered much in here. Nothing worth smashing. I guess—” She broke off, walked slowly to the counter. “Oh, God.”

When she turned her eyes were wide and horrified. “My bread knife.” She laid her fingertips on the knife block, with one empty slot. “Long blade with serrated edge. God, Jonah. He killed her with my own knife.”

She wasn’t going to let it shake her. She couldn’t. For a cop, she reminded herself, nerves were as costly as rage and just as dangerous. The break-in at her apartment was a direct, and personal, attack. Her only choice was to stand up to it, maintain her objectivity and do the job she’d sworn to do.

When the crime scene unit had left, adding their wreckage to what Lyle had left behind him, she hadn’t argued with Jonah. He’d told her to pack what she thought she needed.

She was moving in with him until it was over.

Neither of them talked about the giant step they were taking; they told themselves it was simply a logical and convenient arrangement.

Then they had slept, tangled together, for what was left of the night.

“We’ve doubled the guards on Fricks,” Kiniki told her at the morning briefing. “Lyle can’t get to him.”

“He’s too smart to try.” Ally stood in her lieutenant’s office, hands in pockets. The horror had dulled, and the thin edge of fear was over. “He can wait, and he will. He’s not in any hurry to pay Fricks back for what he might see as his part in his sister’s death.”

Behind the glass wall of Kiniki’s office, the phones in the bull pen rang, and detectives went about the business of the day. Ally put herself into the mind of a dead woman she’d known for a matter of days.

“Jan Norton was easy. It was all an adventure to her, romantic, exciting. She was with him, and thought she was safe with him. The canvass of my building turned up two neighbors who saw a couple fitting Lyle’s and Jan’s descriptions enter the building at around eight o’clock. Holding hands,” she added. “She helped him trash my place, then once they were on the road again, he killed her. She stopped having a purpose.”

She’d had plenty of time to think it through, lying awake through the darkest hours of the night in Jonah’s bed. “He doesn’t do anything without a purpose. There’s a lot of anger in him for what he sees as the privileged class. There’s a pattern in his background, in his previous arrests. All of them involve crimes against wealth—the hacking, the burglaries. Even the assaults were against wealthy superiors at his job when he held a computer-programming position.”

She pulled her hands out of her pockets, ticked off her fingers. “Wealth, authority, authority, wealth. They’re synonymous to him, and both need to be taken down a peg. He’s smarter than they are. Why should they have the easy life?”

In her mind she flipped through the steadily growing file of data on Matthew Lyle. “He grew up on the bottom rung of lower middle class. Not quite poor, but never really comfortable. His father had a history of unemployment. Always moving from one job to another. His stepfather was arrogant and domineering. Lyle followed the same patterns. The supervisors and coworkers I’ve been able to contact all said the same basic thing. He’s brilliant with tech stuff, but socially retarded. He’s arrogant, belligerent and a loner. He came from a broken home, and both of his parents are dead. The only person he was ever close to was his sister.”

Ally walked to the glass wall, looked out. “His sister played into his weaknesses, fed his monumental ego. One enabled the other. Now she’s gone, and he’s got no one but himself.”

“Where would he go?”

“Not far,” Ally calculated. “He’s not finished yet. He has me to deal with, the Barneses, Blackhawk.”

“I think your instincts are on target. We’ve put Mr. and Mrs. Barnes in a safe house. That leaves you, and Blackhawk.”

She turned back. “I don’t intend to take any unnecessary chances. But I have to keep visible, maintain a routine, or he’ll just go under and wait me out. He has my name, my address. He’s probably got a reasonable description. He wants me to know it. To sweat it.”

“We’ll stake out your building.”

“He may come back there. He doesn’t want to just pick me off. It’s not personal enough. And I don’t think I’ll be his first target.”

“Blackhawk?”

“Yeah, in order of importance, Jonah’s next. And as for Blackhawk, he’s not cooperating.”

And it still irked her that he’d dismissed her idea of arranging protection.

“We can keep a couple of men on him, at a distance.”

“You could keep them two miles away, and he’d spot them. Then he’d lose them on principle. Lieutenant, I’m … close to him. He trusts me. I can take care of it.”

“You have an investigation to run, Detective, and your own butt to cover.”

“I can do a considerable amount of all three at his club. And the fact is, I believe we might lure Lyle out, push him into making a move, if he sees me with Blackhawk routinely.”

“It’s doubtful he knows you killed his sister. We’ve had a lid on that since the incident.”

“But he knows I was part of the operation, the part inside the club. That Blackhawk and I worked together and started the steps that caused his sister’s death.”

“Agreed. I’m putting two men on Blackhawk, for the next seventy-two hours. Then we’ll reevaluate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“On a different matter, you’re aware that Dennis Overton’s fingerprints were found on your hubcaps, your wheel wells. A search of his car turned up a recently purchased hunting knife. The lab work isn’t back, but there were bits of tire rubber on the blade. He’s been fired from the district attorney’s office. They’d like to file formal charges.”

“Sir—”

“Toughen your spine, Fletcher. If you don’t file charges, he can walk. If you do, the D.A. will recommend psych evaluation. He needs it. Or do you want to wait until he shifts his obsession from you to somebody else?”

“No. No, I don’t. I’ll take care of it.”

“Do it now. One lunatic out there after one of my detectives is enough.”

The fact that he was right didn’t make it any easier. Ally walked out to the squad room, plopped down at her desk and decided she deserved at least thirty seconds to brood.

She’d made mistakes with Dennis, right from the beginning. Hadn’t paid enough attention, hadn’t picked up on the cues. None of that was any excuse for his behavior, but it did weigh into her part in triggering it.

“What’s the problem, Fletcher? The boss ream you?”

She glanced up at Hickman, who made himself at home with his butt on the edge of her desk. “No.
I’m about to ream somebody.”

He bit into his midmorning Danish. “That usually puts me in a pretty chipper mood.”

“That’s because you’re a heartless jerk.”

“I love it when you flatter me.”

“If I tell you you’re a brainless moron, would you do me a favor?”

He took another bite, sprinkled crumbs on her desk. “My life for you, baby.”

“I have to file on Dennis Overton. When the warrant comes through, would you pick him up? He knows you. It might be a little easier on him.”

“Sure. Ally, he’s not worth the regrets.”

“I know it.” She got to her feet, pulled her jacket from the back of her chair. Then she smiled, broke off a corner of his Danish and popped it into her mouth. “You’re ugly, too.”

“Girl of my dreams. Marry me.”

Grateful Hickman knew how to lighten her mood, Ally headed out.

Two hours later she was walking into her father’s office.

He met her at the door this time, ran his hands up and down her arms while he studied her face. Then he simply pulled her into his embrace.

“Good to see you,” he murmured.

She burrowed in, let herself absorb his strength, his stability. “You’re always there, you and Mom. No matter what, you’re right there. I just wanted to say that first.”

“She’s worried about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry for it. Listen.” She gave him an extra squeeze, then drew back. “I know you’re up-to-date, but I wanted you to know I’m okay. And I’m handling it. Lyle can’t wait long to make a move. He’s got nobody now. Everything we’ve got on him indicates he needs somebody, a woman, to admire him, feed his ego, play his games with him. Alone, he’ll break.”

“I agree. And it’s my assessment that it’s a woman he’ll want most to punish. You’re elected.”

“Agreed. He’s already made his first big mistake by breaking into my place. He exposed himself. He left prints everywhere. His grief, his anger, pushed him to show me what he is and what he wants. Using my knife to kill Jan, that was his way of saying it could have been me.”

“So far we have no argument. Why are you alone?”

“He won’t move on me during the day. He works at night. I’m not going to take stupid chances, Dad. That’s a promise. I wanted you to know I’ve filed charges against Dennis.”

“Good. I don’t want you hassled, and I don’t want you distracted. I went by your apartment this morning.”

“I’ve got some serious redecorating to do.”

“You can’t stay there. Come home for a few days. Until this is closed.”

“I’ve, ah, already made arrangements.” She tucked her hands into her pockets, rocked back on her heels. This part, she thought, would be tricky. “I’m staying at Blackhawk’s.”

“You can’t bunk in a club,” he began. Then it hit him, a sneaky jab to the solar plexus. “Oh.” Boyd ran a hand through his hair, walked to his desk. Shook his head, walked to the coffeepot. “You, ah … Hell.”

“I’m sleeping with Jonah.”

His back still to her, Boyd lifted a hand, waved it from side to side. Acknowledging the signal, Ally closed her mouth and waited.

“You’re a grown woman.” He got that much out, then set the coffeepot back down. “Damn it.”

“Is that a comment on my age, or my relationship with Blackhawk?”

“Both.” He turned back. She was so lovely, he thought, this woman who’d come from him.

“Do you have anything against him?”

“You’re my daughter. He’s a man. There you go. Don’t grin at me when I’m having a paternal crisis.”

Obediently she folded her lips. “Sorry.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll imagine you and Jonah are spending your time together discussing great works of literature and playing gin rummy.”

“Whatever gets you through, Dad. I’d like to bring him to the Sunday barbecue.”

“He won’t come.”

“Oh, yes.” Ally smiled thinly. “He will.”

*  *  *

She spent the rest of her shift doing follow-ups on the case and dealing with the threads of two others assigned to her. She closed one on sexual assault, opened another on armed robbery.

She parked her car in a secured lot and backtracked the block and a half to Blackhawk’s.

She spotted the stakeout car from the end of the block and had no doubt Jonah had tagged it, as well.

The first person she saw when she walked into the club was Hickman sitting hunched at the bar. She figured she could have spotted his black eye from a block away, as well.

She went to him, tapped a finger under his chin and studied his face while he sulked. “Who popped you?”

“Your good friend and general jerk-face Dennis Overton.”

“You’re kidding. He resisted?”

“Ran like a jackrabbit.” He glanced toward Frannie, tapped his glass for a refill. “Had to chase him down. Before I could cuff him, he caught me.” He picked up his dwindling beer, sipped morosely. “Now I’m wearing this, and I’ve taken about all the razzing I’m going to.”

“Sorry, Hickman.” To prove it, she leaned over and touched her lips to the swollen bruise. When she leaned back, she noticed Jonah had turned the corner into the bar. He merely lifted a brow at seeing her with her arm around Hickman’s shoulders, then signaled to Will.

“I never figured him for a rabbit.” With a heavy sigh, Hickman scooped up a handful of bar nuts. “Then I take him down and got this.” He shifted on the stool to show her the hole in the knee of his trousers. “And he’s flopping around like a landed trout and crying like a baby.”

“Oh, God.”

“One ounce, one ounce of sympathy in his direction, Fletcher, and I’ll pop you myself.” Instead Hickman began popping the nuts into his mouth. “He swings back and his elbow catches me, right here, right on the cheekbone. I saw whole planets erupt. Stupid son of a bitch can do his crying in a cage tonight. What the hell’d you ever see in him?”

“Beats me. Frannie, put my pal’s drinks on my tab, will you?”

“I’m switching to the imported stuff, then.”

She laughed, then glanced over her shoulder when Will came up behind her.

“Never used to have cops in here.” But he said it with an easy smile and winked at Frannie. “You want some ice on that eye, Officer?”

Hickman shook his head. “Nah.” He used his good one to give Will the once-over. “You got a problem with cops?”

“Not in about five years. Say, is Sergeant Maloney still down at the sixty-third? He busted me twice. Was always straight about it.”

Amused, Hickman turned around on the stool. “Yeah, he’s still there. Still working vice, too.”

“You see him, you tell him Will Sloan said hi. He was always square with me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Anyway, the man says I should have some dinner sent out to your friends in the Ford across the street. Figures they’ll get hungry sitting out there all night twiddling their thumbs.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,” Ally said dryly.

“Least we can do.” Giving Hickman a friendly slap on the back, Will headed toward the kitchen.

“I’ve got a couple of things to do.” Ally gave Hickman’s black eye another look. “Put some ice on that,” she advised, then made her way into the club area to track down Beth.

“Got a minute?”

Beth continued to key in codes on the register. “It’s Friday night, we’re booked solid. And we’re a couple of waitresses short.”