Wild Fire: A Chaos Novella Page 10

  The Stephenses had not heard a break-in and there was no evidence of one.

  How the intruder got in was a mystery.

  Unless he was let in.

  “She wiped herself down before going for the rape kit,” Hank shared. “So there was no point in doing a rape kit, and as such, none was done.”

  Dutch’s eyes leapt to Hank.

  “Say what?” he asked.

  “She contends she was not thinking clearly,” Hank told him. “Even though the rape was interrupted, material can still be gathered. A rape kit is performed in a hospital and not only did she wipe herself down, wash her hands and brush her hair before she showed, she changed clothes and the nightgown she was wearing mysteriously disappeared. To this day, it has not turned up.”

  “That’s pretty freakin’ thorough grooming before heading out to have your rape kit done,” Dutch noted sarcastically.

  “It’s not unheard of that happens,” Eddie noted. “Victims of violent crimes are rarely in an emotional state to think straight.”

  “But wasn’t she warned not to do that?” Dutch asked.

  “She was,” Eddie answered.

  Before Dutch could respond, Georgie spoke.

  “By process of elimination, since three people were there, one’s missing, one’s dead, and she’s the last, she’s the only one reporting there was an attempted rape.”

  “Yeah,” Hank affirmed.

  “And there were officers at the scene, was she not offered an escort to the hospital?” Georgie went on.

  “She wasn’t only offered that, it was pressed, but she was adamant that she would make her way there herself,” Hank told her.

  “And they let her, in her home, which was the scene of a crime that resulted in a death, wash up and then go to the hospital?” Georgie sounded shocked.

  “She did not wash up or change clothes at home. She found somewhere along the way from home to the hospital to do it,” Hank shared.

  “So the woman went out of her way to clean up,” Dutch asked, also shocked, and pissed.

  “Yeah,” Hank said.

  “It unheard of that happens?” Dutch put to Eddie.

  Eddie grunted unhappily.

  Fishy was damned right.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Georgie snapped, beyond disbelieving, or irate.

  She was furious.

  There was a lot of emotion behind that, some deserved, but this was past that, and Dutch wanted to know about it.

  “Where’s that come from, darlin’?” he asked.

  “She said she was being raped,” she replied.

  He drew out his, “Yeah.”

  “And from what we’ve heard, there is a distinct possibility that’s not the case.”

  “Yeah,” he repeated.

  “I’m sure this is arguable, but in my estimation, the worst kind of woman is the woman who makes a false allegation of rape, or attempted rape. Every one who does makes the ones who actually endure that nightmare have to travel a road that already is going to be arduous, one that’s so horrendous, the majority of victims refuse to even take that path.”

  Dutch felt the truth of that in the back of his throat and swung his eyes to Eddie and Hank.

  “She’s right,” Hank said low.

  “So that’s why no DNA was found,” Georgie rapped out.

  “Yup,” Eddie said.

  “She’s lying. Covering for the murderer,” Georgie spat. “She knows him.”

  “Yup,” Hank said.

  “The fuck?” Dutch murmured angrily.

  “Where is this woman?” Georgie demanded.

  All of the men looked to her, but it was only Dutch who reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

  Sparks had flown from her last night because she was pissed as shit at him.

  It was not lost on a single man at that table she was about to explode, and she wanted to aim the grenade that was her at Carlyle’s neighbor.

  “Take a breath,” he urged.

  “Carlyle’s dad went over in the midst of a lovers’ spat or a conspirators’ fight or a bad guy argument because he thought a woman was being harmed and he was the kind of man who would do something to put a stop to that and he got dead because of it and this bitch is not talking?”

  He leaned her way. “Baby, take a breath.”

  “How can the worst situation in the world get even worse?” she demanded to know.

  “We don’t know her story, Georgie.”

  “I’m thinking I do, Dutch. She’s covering her and/or this guy’s ass and Carlyle’s dad is dead. Benefit of the doubt, she was in a bad situation. Carlyle’s father still charged in, in order to save her from it and the thanks he gets is her letting his murderer go free.”

  “Get a lock on it, darlin’,” he ordered gently.

  “No,” she snapped.

  “Georgiana, you losing your mind on this woman is not gonna help Carlyle.”

  She caught his eyes and stared into them, deep and for a long time.

  Then she took in a shuddering breath, tore her hand free and raised it toward a passing waitress.

  “Margarita, double shot of tequila,” she ordered.

  The waitress nodded.

  Georgie then dipped a chip, ate it angrily, and talked while munching, muttering, “Fucking bitch. Fucking fuck her.”

  “I see you’re over your no-cursing-around-people-you-don’t-know gig,” he noted.

  This time, she punched him in the arm.

  He caught her around the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard. No tongue, unfortunately. She still tasted good.

  When he let her go, she declared, “You’re a good kisser, Dutch, seriously, but your kisses don’t wring miracles.”

  “I’ll have to work on that,” he replied.

  “Whatever,” she mumbled.

  “Luke has got to meet this one,” Eddie said.

  “Tex,” Hank said. “Tex is gonna adopt her.”

  Christ, that couldn’t happen.

  Tex would take one look at Murtagh and there’d definitely be a catnapping and Murtagh would be lost to them forever.

  “Who are Luke and Tex?” Georgie asked.

  Both Hank and Eddie stared at her.

  Then Hank asked, “Have you not read the Rock Chick books?”

  “No. They’re on my list,” Georgie answered.

  “Please, God, don’t,” Hank begged. “I think you’re the only woman in Denver who hasn’t, and I cannot tell you how refreshing it is to sit at a table with someone who does not already know the names of my kids.”

  “And other shit about you,” Eddie murmured.

  “And you,” Hank returned.

  Their food came, along with Georgie’s margarita.

  They tucked in but Dutch did it pushing, “So the cops know this woman is shady and that’s it?”

  “We also talked to the detectives in charge of the investigation, and to describe them as being frustrated, with the case and especially her, is an understatement,” Eddie told them. “They’re pissed. But they can’t waterboard her in order to get her to talk.”

  “Though they discussed it,” Hank muttered.

  “I’ll fill the buckets,” Georgie also muttered.

  Hank shot her a grin and Eddie gave her a big, white smile.

  “What about who the Stephens family saw go in and out?” Georgie asked. “Canvassing other neighbors? Is anyone recognizable as persons of interest to the police?”

  “You’d be surprised how little detail people have about things they’ve seen, even things that don’t sit right with them, when it comes down to that detail being important,” Hank shared.

  “So no luck with that,” she surmised.

  “Sadly, no,” Hank confirmed.

  “So everything leads to a dead end.”

  “Everything leads to the neighbor,” Eddie corrected.

  “She’s just not talking,” Georgie said flatly.

  No one answered that
because they’d already been over it.

  “What does she do?” Georgie asked.

  “She manages a restaurant,” Hank answered.

  “Who owns the restaurant?” Georgie asked.

  Hank smiled a respectful smile and told her carefully, “Those leads have been followed and there’s nothing there. If there was something hot, it wasn’t uncovered when it should have been, and it’s gone cold. The detectives on this case are solid and they did the work. I hate to admit it, any cop does, but even if this was my case, I’d keep the file on my desk, but I’d have no choice but to move on.”

  “Same,” Eddie grunted. “And not just because we’re partners.”

  “What’s her risk here?” Georgie kept pushing.

  “Her risk?” Hank asked.

  “Giving a false report to the police,” she stated. “And since it’s likely she knows this man, let him in, and is covering for him, abetting a crime. Because it’s a crime, yes? Even if Carlyle’s dad forced entry, he didn’t do it for nefarious reasons, so a crime was committed. One that’s punishable.”

  “There would be discussion about that if it was a lovers’ spat that he interrupted and they mistakenly shot him, thinking he was an intruder,” Eddie said. “But how this is looking like it actually went down, it’d be hard to stick murder one on them. Though, if the prosecutor got creative, and there was something dark they’re hiding, darker even than her covering for a lover, or other, that something being the reason she’s not talking, they could get murder two and she could get hit with false reporting and accessory.”

  “So if this guy is found, and if she’s found out, they’ll go down,” Georgie concluded.

  “If the evidence is there, the prosecutor doesn’t screw it up, no deal is struck, yeah,” Hank confirmed.

  Georgie then looked to Dutch and there was a light burning so bright in her eyes, he felt it scorching his skin.

  But it didn’t hurt.

  It was beautiful.

  “How’s the kid?” Eddie asked.

  Dutch tore his attention from Georgiana and looked to Eddie. “Not good.”

  “I can imagine, seein’ his dad like that,” Eddie murmured.

  Dutch’s blood ran cold.

  It was Georgiana this time who wrapped her hand around his wrist, but it was like a phantom touch, his focus was hyper-alert on Eddie.

  “Seein’ his dad like that?” Dutch asked, his voice sounding funny to his own ears.

  Choked.

  He felt both Eddie and Hank’s attention sharpen on him but that was phantom too.

  He was staring at Eddie like taking his eyes off the man would mean he’d forget how to breathe.

  “Yeah,” Eddie said slowly.

  “Carlyle saw his father dead?” Dutch pressed.

  “Dutch, honey,” Georgie whispered, squeezing hard at his wrist.

  He ignored her.

  “Followed his dad,” Eddie said carefully. “Didn’t you know?”

  Oh Christ.

  Followed him?

  “Followed him…how?” Dutch forced out.

  “His mother tried to stop him, but he followed his dad to his neighbor’s. He spoke to the police at the scene, said his dad was down by the time he got up there. He wasn’t dead. When the police got there, the kid was still pressing on the wound, but it was too late. The carotid was hit. The man was gone,” Eddie shared.

  Dutch dropped his head and stared at his lap.

  “You didn’t know that?” Georgie asked gently.

  “No,” he said to his lap.

  Carlyle watched his father die.

  And his father watched his son watch him die.

  “Dutch,” Georgie hissed urgently.

  They’d shared that moment when they both knew life was over.

  Carlyle’s life as he knew it, with a good man who was a good dad in his home, raising him up, molding the man he’d become.

  And his dad knowing he’d never see that man because his life was just over.

  His body jostled and he came to seeing Georgie semi-crouched beside him. She had a hold on his leg and his neck, and she was shaking both.

  “Look at me, baby,” she whispered.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Okay, then humor me by looking at me for a sec, okay?”

  He slid a hand along her neck and repeated, “I’m all right, Georgie.”

  She gave him a good once over, took her time, and only when she was satisfied did she let him go and resume her seat.

  Dutch cleared his throat and gave the men his attention. “Sorry.”

  “Understandable,” Hank replied.

  He felt Georgie now in hyper-focus, but on him, and he made a show of forking into his burrito.

  But when he got it to his mouth, he didn’t taste it.

  Because new thoughts were forming in his head.

  Including the fact that the cops had come to the shelter, looking for Carlyle.

  Did they do that just to share the case had gone cold, apologize they had to get on with other shit, pat him on the back and tell him to keep his chin up and maybe get his ass home?

  No.

  They wanted to go over what he saw.

  And now Dutch wanted to know what he saw.

  But the bottom line was, they all needed to know what he saw.

  Because he fucking saw something.

  But he was keeping it to himself, and Dutch got that.

  Fuck him, he got it.

  But as smart as Carlyle was, this was not his job. He was too young, and he didn’t have the skills to see it through.

  Making matters worse, if this was tied up with other shit, and that woman knew that Carlyle saw what he saw, the kid was flat-out in danger.

  Which could be another reason why he refused to go home.

  He was keeping his mother and sister safe.

  Fuck.

  “You got something for us?” Eddie asked.

  Dutch had food in his mouth.

  He chewed, swallowed, felt Georgie’s continued hyper-vigilance on him, but he locked eyes with Eddie.

  “Yeah, I do. But I got work to do on it so can you give me a few days? Then I’m handing it over.”

  “Chaos got your back?” Eddie asked.

  “Nightingale does,” Dutch answered.

  Eddie nodded. That worked for him.

  Dutch looked to Hank.

  Hank was eating like nothing was weird. It worked for him too.

  Dutch understood this.

  Lee Nightingale, who owned Nightingale Investigations, was Eddie’s best friend, Hank’s brother, and they both knew Lee, nor his team would leave Dutch blowing in the breeze.

  They finished their meals shooting the shit.

  At the end, there was a brief but annoying discussion about who was going to pay that Georgie did not participate in, but she won it by walking up to the register and paying herself. Something which Dutch knew was going to lead to another discussion about how she was never going to do that again.

  Hank urged Dutch to take Georgie to meet Tex.

  Georgie looked intrigued.

  They said goodbye on the sidewalk.

  And Georgie called it when they were in his truck on the way back to her place.

  “Carlyle saw something.”

  “Yup.”

  “We have to find Carlyle.”

  “Yup.”

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  Dutch drew a sharp breath into his nose.

  Then he repeated, “Yup.”

  They settled into unhappy silence.

  Dutch broke it.

  “You ever pay the bill like that again, I’m spanking your ass.”

  She said nothing.

  Until she did.

  And it was…

  “Cute.”

  Chapter Six

  Butch and Sundance

  Dutch

  Dutch lay on his back on his couch with a book in his hand and a cat on his chest.

  The only
reason he was there and not out on the streets looking for Carlyle was because they’d spent the afternoon searching for Carlyle.

  They’d checked everywhere they’d known to check, and being on the kids beat, Georgie knew even more spots than Dutch did.

  They’d also put bugs in as many ears as they could talk into, including Vance Crowe.

  And Georgie had phoned her two street kids-not-kids to ask them to keep on the lookout and do that with a purpose.

  These dudes called themselves “Banga” and “Kraken,” and just that made Dutch’s stomach tighten at the thought she was associating with whatever lunatics these guys were.

  Because seriously…

  Kraken?

  He listened over her speakerphone as they assured her they were on it.

  And then it started to get late, and Georgie had pitched a fit about Dutch continuing to look while she was on her date-not-date because, “Who’s going to keep Murtagh company?”

  He was in love with her cat, but he wanted to find Carlyle more.

  Georgie impressed upon him he couldn’t run himself ragged or they’d never find Carlyle.

  She then told him they had to let the folks they’d roped in to help have time to do something about it, adding something about a watched kettle never boiling.

  She ended all this on what really did it.

  That if Murtagh did not have time to get used to his house before she got there, no way she could spend the night with him, because if she brought Murtagh over, he would be disoriented in a new space and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on Dutch.

  Obviously, on that, he gave in.

  It was when Dutch was hanging at her pad while she got ready for her date-not-date, already having taken all of Murtagh’s shit and Georgie’s overnight bag down to his truck, that things got iffy.

  Because she came out looking shit-hot in a little black dress that was way off the shoulder, had long bell sleeves, the hem hit her just above the knees, it was skintight, and the capper was the pair of sexy black stiletto sandals on her feet.

  He had, he thought, justifiably lost his mind and told her to go change.

  She had, he thought, totally insanely lost hers and told him he couldn’t tell her to change her clothes or tell her to do, say, anything.

  “You’re wearin’ that to get info from this guy? And you walk out to me wearin’ that dress and I know you’re wearin’ it and up to that? Are you serious with this shit?” he demanded to know.