Tunnel Vision.

by Brenda Adc.o.c.k.

Acknowledgments.

There are always too many people to thank by the time an author types the words aThe End.a Itas an unusual way to end a story because itas really only the beginning. This story is partially based on a murder that occurred while I was an undergraduate, and I was never able to shake it. I hope Iave done it some justice in the end.

By the time I completed the original ma.n.u.script I was indebted to many friends. Iall always be grateful for the support of my reading group in Austin, Texas. They have certainly broadened my horizons. Gail Robinson, one of our members, beta read this ma.n.u.script for me and added valuable insights. Carol Poynter became another beta reader and pointed out all kinds of errors. My buddy, Ron Whiteis, spent a couple of long nights commenting on the big picture and helped me see the overall story much more clearly. Heas truly my flashlight in the dark. Donna Pawlowski created yet another great cover and I am always amazed. A former beta reader and good friend, Ruta Skujins, was my editor for this project and asked way too many questions, but they needed to be asked. Thank you is not a strong enough phrase for my publisher, Cathy LeNoir. She took a chance on me and I will never forget that. Lastly, a special hug for my partner, Cheryl. Sheas always there for me and I couldnat ask for more.

Dedication.

For Ron Whiteis.

for being my best friend when I needed one.

Chapter One.

AN ACRID TASTE rose in her throat as the scream erupted from her mouth with the first flash of gunfire.

aNo!a A second flash, followed by searing pain, dropped her to her knees. She raised her revolver and squeezed off two quick rounds before crawling toward the p.r.o.ne body near her on the damp gra.s.s. Wetness soaked through the knees of her uniform pants and her vision was blurred by the tears forming in her eyes. She couldnat cry. Wheeler needed her. She didnat remember hearing the back-up cars sliding to a halt nearby or the shouts of other officers running toward her as she reached out and rolled her partner and friend onto his back, yanking at the Velcro of the bulletproof vest that hadnat protected his neck and head. She could barely bring herself to look at him. She had to concentrate. What she did was a matter of life and death, now more than it ever had been. Ignoring the throbbing in her leg, she began chest compressions and leaned over his body to breathe air into him. As she returned to the compressions, she glanced quickly at his neck and watched frothy red bubbles oozing from the black hole torn in his throat.

aYouall be okay, Stan,a she whispered over and over as she pushed on his chest, creating a mantra to guide the rhythm of her movements. She breathed air into his lungs once more and saw a burst of red flow from the neck wound. As she turned to resume compressions, a hand grabbed her wrist. She tried to push it away, but it was too strong. aYouare killing him!a she said as she struggled. The hand squeezed her wrist tightly and she looked down to see a bloodcovered hand. Flashing her eyes to Wheeleras face, she tried to remain calm. She brought her face closer to his and managed to say, aYouare gonna be okay, Stan. I promise.a The look on his face twisted into a frown and his head moved slowly from side to side, his lips moved, but no sound escaped. aWhat? What are you trying to tell me?a she asked as she leaned closer to hear. In a rush of unexpected air and sound, she heard him.

aYour fault, Brodie. This is your fault.a Trying to get away from the accusation in his voice and the dimming light in his eyes, she fought against the steel grip. aIall always be inside you,a he whispered, his lips curling into a cruel grin. aIam taking part of you with me.a She watched in horror when his eyes refused to show any sign of forgiveness as a dull, milky film clouded them and the final air escaped from his lungs. She could hear him inside her mind already, accusing her.

aNo!a she screamed, sitting up abruptly and sucking in air through her mouth in short, panicked gasps. Her eyes frantically searched the blackness surrounding her and she begged for one small flicker of light to prove the persistent nightmare was finally over. That she was still alive. Her clothing was wet with perspiration. Small droplets of sweat ran between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and trickled down her neck and along the hollow of her spine. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly until she could stop shaking. As her breathing became more controlled, she lowered her forehead to her knees and squeezed her eyes closed, pushing away the face in her dream. It was always the same. Is this what happens when you die unexpectedly? You crawl inside someone elseas mind and make their life h.e.l.l? Why did Wheeler have to stare at her like that as he exhaled his last harsh metallic breath into her?

She shivered from the sweaty clothing sticking to her damp skin. She was pulling the wet t-shirt over her head and leaning down to pull a dry shirt from the nightstand drawer, when the sudden, explosive sound of gunfire made her bolt from the bed, plunging her back into the nightmare. She grabbed her service revolver and flashlight from the nightstand. She crouched and made her way to the bedroom window, looking carefully outside as she pulled an old heather-gray t-shirt over her head. Through a slit in the Venetian blinds she saw a car parked on the shoulder of the road in front of her house. Its hood was up and a figure leaned into the engine compartment. She moved quietly into the living room and opened the front door, shining the beam of the flashlight on the car, her revolver following the shaft of light. A man turned his head toward the glare and waved. Relaxing slightly, but still wary, she lowered the revolver and walked toward the car.

aDidnat mean to disturb you, maaam,a the man said.She glanced around the car and then shined the light into the vehicle. An old woman with mussed white hair sat behind the wheel, looking like a deer frozen in the headlights of a Mack truck. She raised an arm to shield her eyes from the flashlight beam. The man under the hood was considerably younger than the woman and his s.h.a.ggy hair kept falling in his face. Brodie clicked the safety on her revolver and stuck it in the back waistband of her shorts before moving to the front of the vehicle.

aCar trouble?a aYeah. I keep telling her she needs a new f.u.c.kina car, but noooo, sheas bound and determined to hang onto this one until they both croak,a the man said in a low voice.

He tinkered under the hood a little longer and finally stuck his head out from under one side of the hood. aTry it now, Grandma, and remember, just pump the gas pedal one time.a The woman didnat reply, but Royce Brodie heard the clicking sound as she pumped the gas pedal and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered a few times and sounded as if it might die again until the man reached under the hood and grabbed the throttle rod to keep it going.

aIt just has to idle a few minutes and then it should at least get us to a gas station,a he said, glancing at her. aProbably just a clogged fuel line. She wonat buy nothina but that cheap s.h.i.t and it keeps fouling the engine.a The man slowly released the gas pedal and the engine grumbled, but continued idling. He slammed the hood down and walked to the driveras side of the vehicle.

aScoot over, Grandma. Better let me drive in case she dies again,a he said as he opened the door.

aJust donat you speed in my car, Billy,a the old woman said as she slid across the seat.

Smiling at Brodie, he shrugged and said, aNot much chance of that.a She stepped out of the way and watched as the car began to crawl away. As she walked back toward her house, the car began to sputter. Suddenly, a series of backfires poured out of the caras exhaust, a flash accompanying each sound. It was the same sound she had heard the night her life changed forever and the nightmares began. The night Stan Wheeler found his way inside her mind and soul to torment her. Then there had been someone to hold her and soothe the nightmares away. Now there was no one. Wheeler had died because of her, and she had killed the love that might have saved her. Rubbing a hand across her face and through her damp hair, she stepped into her house but knew she wouldnat sleep again that night. The shrill ring of her phone kept her from having to worry about it.

FROM A DISTANCE, the activity in the field off the steep westbound lane of the main highway into Cedar Springs, Texas looked like a convention of fireflies on a humid summer night. Patrol units blocked the divided highway at the top of the hill above the accident site to make room for emergency vehicles, their red and blue lights cutting through the darkness. Brodie yawned and squeezed her eyes shut, shoving a finger under her wire-rimmed gla.s.ses to rub the pre-dawn blurriness away. Exhaustion would eventually give her the nightmare-free sleep her body craved, if only for a couple of hours. She barely remembered groping for her jeans and boots in the dim light of her bedroom. She hadnat been in a hurry to reach the scene. Once a victim was dead there wasnat a h.e.l.luva lot she could do for them. She nosed her vintage 1969 Olympic Gold Camaro along the shoulder of the eastbound lanes, past a line of slowmoving vehicles obviously hoping to get a better look at the accident. She shook her head and ran a hand through her short, dark, but graying hair. Everyone talked about how horrible accidents like this were, all the while busting a gut hoping to catch even a glimpse of a bloodied and mangled body.

Halfway up the hill, she swung the Camaro onto the gra.s.sy, sloping median separating west and eastbound lanes. Before she could extract the wallet holding her detectiveas badge from her waistband, a flashlight-waving patrolman in the median signaled her to stop. She didnat recognize him and concluded he was one of the new eager-beaver types the department had recently hired to beef up its ranks in response to the rising crime rate that accompanied the rising population rate of Cedar Springs. The small town she escaped to nearly eight years earlier was being slowly but steadily gobbled up by Austinas relentless urban sprawl. And no matter how hard people tried to get away from them, every time they moved, the c.o.c.kroaches managed to tag along. Brodie rolled the window down as the officer, dressed in brand-spanking new dark-blue pants and gray shirt, approached. He leaned down to the driveras side window with a frown and began the speech he had probably already repeated dozens of times, all the while ogling the caras immaculately restored interior.

aThereas been an accident, maaam,a he droned as he reached into his shirt pocket. aIam issuing a citation for illegally crossing the median and obstructing the right-of-way for emergency vehicles.a aDonat think so,a Brodie said matter-of-factly, holding her detectiveas shield up for the officer to see.

aOh, Iam sorry, maaam. I didnat know detectives came out for traffic accidents.a She was becoming mildly annoyed at being referred to as amaaama. At fifty she already felt old enough without being reminded of it multiple times by some kid barely out of p.u.b.erty. Forcing a smile, she focused on the officeras nametag and shrugged.

aWhat can I say, Underwood, it was a dull night and Iave already used up my departmental quota of sleep. Is Ramirez at the scene?a aUh, I donat know Ramirez, Detective. This is my first day.a Brodie nodded as she surveyed the scene. Finally she turned her attention back to the officer. aWell, listen, another detective named Nicholls will be showing up in a little while. You canat miss him. Blond, surfer-looking type. Tell him Iam here somewhere.a aYes, maaam. Will do.a She would have sworn the patrolman was going to salute as she struggled to look serious, hoping she hadnat looked that innocent twenty-five years earlier when she began her first day as a patrol officer. She continued across the median and recognized an officer standing in the westbound lane. She pulled her car over, leaning partway out the window as she approached.

aHey, Southard! Seen Ramirez?a aThat you, Brodie? What the h.e.l.l you doina out here this late?a aNot sure yet.a aRamirez should be somewhere down by the fire trucks.a He looked appreciatively at the Camaro. aLet me know when youare ready to sell that baby,a he said.aWonat be in your lifetime,a she replied with a smile.

Waving a hand at Southard, she let her vehicle roll closer to the scene before braking and turning off the ignition. Getting out of the car and stretching the kinks out of her thin five-ten frame, she reached into the back seat and retrieved her police jacket. By the time she arrived the area was well lit by emergency vehicles. She surveyed the ground leading to the still smoldering vehicle as she walked toward it. An ambulance was backed onto the gra.s.s near the site, and she finally spotted Patrol Officer Eduardo Ramirez interviewing a fireman near the rear of the ambulance. Ramirez was an experienced patrol officer who, in her opinion, should have been moved up to detective years ago. He was writing in a small notebook as she shoved her hands into her jeansa pockets and sauntered up to the men.

aRamirez.a The stout Hispanic officer turned his head toward her and continued writing. aJust a sec, Lieutenant.a She nodded and moved toward the burned car. Apparently the fire had spread into the heavy bushes and overgrown gra.s.ses surrounding the area, and three or four firemen were pulling at the underbrush with long poles, looking for potential hot spots. Ramirez joined her and looked around.

aMessy, huh,a he said.

aYeah. So whyad you feel the need to drag my happy a.s.s out of bed for a f.u.c.king traffic accident?

Even a messy one,a she asked as she lit a cigarette, flipped her lighter shut with a metallic click and took a deep drag.

aDidnat look right somehow. Come on,a Ramirez motioned.

As Brodie followed him, Ramirez began to point out things around the vehicle.

aNo plates, front or rear,a Ramirez said shining his flashlight on the plate holder below the vehicle trunk.

He moved to the front of the vehicle and stopped again. aWhat do you see?a he asked.

She walked around the front end of the car before answering. aHoodas up and the engine appears to have been the source of the initial fire. Was there an explosion?a aYep, but not from the gas tank or the engine.a She squatted down and looked at the front of the car. aWhatas the scenario?a aDriver speeds down the hill, loses control, vehicle leaves the road, strikes these trees, catches fire and explodes.a aIt doesnat look like thereas much damage to the front end from the impact, certainly not enough to cause an explosion unless itas a very touchy vehicle.a aThatas what I thought. Thereas barely a dent in the front end. And look over here, Brodie.a Putting her hands on her knees, she pushed herself up slowly, grimacing as her knees crackled, and followed Ramirez.

aI didnat notice this until the fire was out.a Ramirez shined his flashlight on a semi-circular burned area a few feet from the car. aSee how round this area is? Looks like someone was throwing something onto the fire. You know, keeping it going.a aSounds like a stretch to me, buddy.a aThere are footprints just outside the burned area.a ah.e.l.l, Ramirez, there were a dozen people wandering around in here putting the fire out.a aBut they all wear the rubber boots the Fire Department issues. Pretty distinctive tread. These are different.a Brodie walked over to the circular area and ran the beam from her police flashlight around the edges of the burned gra.s.s. She squatted down again and adjusted her gla.s.ses to see the faint indentations in the gra.s.s and dirt.

aAnyone else been around here?a she asked without looking back at Ramirez.

aJust me and the fireboys. The witness said he wasnat on this side of the car.a She stood up and turned around. aWhat witness?a aWell, heas not really a witness. He came up on the scene after the explosion. Some college kid comina home for spring break. Nameas Jeff Quincy.a aYouave already questioned him?a aJust preliminary stuff. I told him to wait for you. Heas up by the highway, probably still shakina. He was pretty spooked when I got here.a aCordon off this area until we can get a better look at it in the daylight. Good job, Ramirez.a aThanks, RB.a aSo when you moving to detectives? Weall have a vacancy soon,a Brodie asked with a smile, already knowing the answer.

aNever.a aAnd miss playing Sherlock Holmes?a aI still do that and donat have to wear no stinkina coat and tie. And I never get called out in the middle of the night unless itas my shift.a aSo, whereas this semi-witness?a she asked. Ramirez pointed to an older-model Toyota parked on the shoulder of the highway. aI a.s.signed a patrol officer to stay with him until you got here so he wouldnat wander off.a aOkay. Make sure you put everything youave noticed out here in your report. And that includes anything you think is suspicious. Thanks, Ramirez.a ALMOST TWO HOURS had pa.s.sed since he called 9-1-1 and his bladder was telling him he shouldnat have Super-Sized that last soft drink. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly one-thirty. As he looked up again, he saw a thin middle-aged woman in jeans and a police windbreaker walking along the shoulder.

aYou the one who called this in?a the woman asked as she strode toward him.

He nodded as he slid off the hood of the Toyota.

aYes, maaam.a aLieutenant Brodie,a she said casually, field stripping her cigarette and stuffing the remaining filter in the pocket of her jeans. aCedar Springs PD.a Glancing at the patrol officer, who looked bored, she said, aThanks for keeping an eye on Mr. Quincy until I got here, officer. You can return to your patrol duties now.a aYes, maaam,a the officer nodded.

Returning her attention to the nervous-looking teenager, she leaned against the side of his car. aWhy donat you tell me what you saw?a aI really didnat see anything. I saw a flash ahead of me and after I came over the hill I saw there had been an accident and the car over there was on fire.a aIs that when you called in the accident report?a aNo. I thought someone might have been thrown from the car, so I ran down there to check.a aDid you find anyone?a she asked as she looked toward the vehicle.

Jeff shook his head. aNo, I didnat see anyone. At least not on this side of the car. Before I could look too closely, I smelled this...this...a aYeah, I get the picture.a aThen I ran back and called for help. I guess n.o.body can help whoever was in there now, can they?a aDoesnat look like it,a she said. aLet me get an address and phone number for you in case we have more questions later. Weall need you to come in tomorrow and make a statement, just for the record.a She handed him a small notebook and he wrote down his name, his parentas address and phone number.

Glancing at the notebook, she said, aThanks for your help, Mr. Quincy. Weall be in touch.a aUm, how do you think it happened, Ms. Brodie?a aLieutenant,a she corrected him. aHard to tell at night. Was he going very fast when he pa.s.sed you?a aHe didnat pa.s.s me. I never even saw his tail lights ahead of me.a aYou didnat see his tail lights at any time?a He shook his head. aNo, maaam. No tail lights and no one pa.s.sed me. I just saw the flash ahead of me.a aIt could have been a delayed explosion after the car hit the trees. Weall know more when itas light.a As he began slowly pulling away, a half-smile crossed Brodieas lips. Like others who happened upon an accident or some other tragedy, he seemed reluctant to leave. h.e.l.l, heall probably envision a career in law enforcement because of this, she thought. She began walking toward the wreckage again when another vehicle pulled off the road and came to a grinding stop near her, throwing up a small cloud of dust. Squinting into the headlights, she recognized the silhouette of her partner, Curtis Nicholls. He exited the car quickly and strode toward her, still adjusting his tie and finger-combing his thick blond hair.

aWhatave we got, RB?a aProbably just a traffic accident. Fell asleep at the wheel or drunk. Hope it didnat interrupt your evening,a she said.

aThe lady was leaving anyway,a he said with a boyish grin.

Since Curtis Nicholls had joined the Cedar Springs PD and become her partner, Brodie had found him to be occasionally intolerant and a shameless womanizer. She couldnat fault him for the womanizing part, having been accused of the same thing herself a few times by women who had been in a position to know.

As they reached the vehicle, firemen at the scene were making their first attempt at pulling the driveras side door open. Heat vapors drifted off the wet metal as the men worked cautiously to avoid making contact with the hot car. Brodie moved around the vehicle, jotting down notes in a worn black notebook she carried in the breast pocket of her jacket. From what little was left of the car it appeared to be an older model Mercedes Benz. As she pondered the age of the vehicle, a loud piercing scream of metal sc.r.a.ping against metal split the quiet. She winced as every filling in her mouth responded to the sound. The two detectives returned to the driveras side of the vehicle as firemen were finally successful in prying the door open. Inside they saw the remains of what had once been a person, but were unable to determine whether it had been a man or a woman. To Brodie the head resembled pictures she had seen of desiccated Egyptian mummies after they had been unwrapped. The blackened cheeks were sunken in and the jaw had dropped. It seemed that the unrecognizable face was laughing at her and even though it presented a scene of horror, she was compellingly drawn to stare at the remains.

aWhen will you get the body out?a she asked a fireman standing nearby.

The fireman shook his head. aProbably have to wait for things to cool down a little more. h.e.l.l of a mess, ainat it?a aYeah. Let us know when you can remove it. Weall keep routing traffic and sightseers around the area until then.a aItall probably be another hour or two.a Motioning toward the car with his chin, he added, aIt wonat take the crispy critter there nearly as long to cool down as the vehicle itself. They may not be able to tow this heap away until after dawn.a aWhen you get the body out transfer it to the Travis County Medical Examiner for autopsy.a Brodie turned to Nicholls and said. aWe might be able to trace the car through DMV, but the driver might not be the owner.a aIall check on the VIN after it cools down,a Nicholls said. aAt least itas a starting place.a aLetas see where the vehicle left the road.a Uniformed officers were still cordoning off the area as Brodie and Nicholls cast flashlight beams across the gra.s.s leading to the road. On the highway itself, they looked for skid marks, which might indicate speed and abrupt braking.

Nicholls shined his light up and down the road. aI donat see a d.a.m.n thing, RB. Looks like he didnat bother to use the brakes. Maybe he fell asleep at the wheel and just left the road.a aCould be,a she said. aJudging from the final position of the vehicle itas a straight line from the road to where the vehicle struck the trees. There was minimal damage, at best, to the front end so there couldnat have been much of an impact.a aDid you notice that area back there?a Nicholls says, shining his light along the presumed path of the vehicle.

aYeah. What do you make of that?a aWell, the ground is pretty chopped up and dippy. If the car hit it doing any speed at all, it should have awakened a dead man. Maybe the driver had a heart attack or something.a aThe kid who called it in said no one pa.s.sed him and swears he didnat see any tail lights before he saw the explosion.a aWhat are you thinking?a aMight be a torch job. Ramirez was suspicious enough to call us in and heas pretty thorough at working scenes. He pointed out an area near the vehicle where someone could have been standing, but itas hard to tell much in the dark. Weall have to wait until the ME hands down his ruling from atop Mount Sinai to determine if itas an accident or not.a Brodie rubbed her eyes and shined her flashlight on her wrist.w.a.tch. Two forty-five. as.h.i.t,a she muttered to herself.

aYou look beat. Go home and get some rest.a Nicholls looked back at the car. aThe paperwork can wait a few hours and Charcoal Bill back thereas not going anywhere for a while.a aYeah, youare right. You gonna stick around?a aIall wait until they remove the remains and take the pictures. The crime scene boys can take care of the rest of it.a SHE TRIED TO get back to sleep when she got home, but no matter how hard she concentrated on sleeping, it refused to come again. After two hours of tossing and turning, she gave up. Lighting a cigarette, she went into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee, and watched the hot, brown liquid trickle slowly into the waiting pot. As she turned to get a cup out of the dish drainer, she tripped over a furry, black heap lying on the floor near her feet.

aG.o.ddammit, Max. Where did you come from?a The big Lab looked up at her with lazy brown eyes, his tail sweeping the floor behind him as it moved. She opened the kitchen door for the dog, who went outside quickly. Returning to the coffee maker, she poured a cup and carried it onto the back deck and watched the first pink and gray hints of morning intrude into the black night sky. The wood on the deck felt damp under her bare feet. She inhaled deeply to clear her head, but it didnat help as she stifled a yawn.

She knew she wasnat getting any younger. When she had been twenty-five she could have worked all night and still been ready to party, but it was a different story now that she was twice as old. She still enjoyed going to the clubs and watching the women, but she was beginning to suspect she was getting too d.a.m.n old to continue the social life she had always enjoyed. Regardless of her age, the sight of beautiful women still took her breath away and made her long to hold and touch them, taking them high slowly, and feeling them come down even more slowly. But in over thirty years of what her friends referred to as aleching arounda she had found only one she had been willing to give up other women for. Now she knew she would never give up her freedom and her heart that way again. It hurt too G.o.dd.a.m.n much when it ended.

Growing older was a b.i.t.c.h, she thought, swallowing the last of her coffee. Maybe shead get lucky and not feel as tired later as she did right now. After all, Thomas Edison slept only three or four hours a night even when he was an old man and look what he accomplished. As she turned to re-enter the kitchen, she wondered who the h.e.l.l she thought she was kidding.

SHE POURED ANOTHER cup of coffee, adding sugar and powdered creamer and could feel the need for an antacid tablet from the smell of the black liquid. Police coffee was possibly the worst substance on the planet. As she stirred in the powdered creamer, she stared at the contents of her mug and shook her head. Nicholls walked up next to her and grabbed the coffee carafe.

aI wouldnat drink that if I were you, unless youave just had a bottle of antacids,a she warned.

aWhy?a aI put a s.h.i.tload of creamer in mine and the stuff never even changed color.a Brodie looked around the squad room. aHey, Carelli! Who made the coffee this morning?a Carelli, a slightly overweight officer in his late fifties, was looking through a stack of paperwork. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

aTastes like Harlan got here first,a he answered without looking up.

Shaking her head she muttered to herself. aHarlan should have stayed in the Marines. No wonder theyare so d.a.m.n mean. Probably from drinkina his f.u.c.kina coffee.a Returning to her desk she opened a manila folder and began reading the contents.

aThat the prelim on Charcoal Bill?a Nicholls asked as he flipped on the computer terminal on his desk.

aYeah,a she grunted. aGuess what? Vehicle burned, victim died.a Nicholls chuckled to himself. aWho wrote that astute observation?a aPatrol Officer Allen Underwood. First shift on the job.a aWell, you always told me to keep my reports simple and to the point.a Before she could respond someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and saw Captain Fred Donaldson standing over her, wearing his customary white shirt with light blue stripes and rolled up shirtsleeves.

aHowas your workload, Brodie?a She shrugged. aDepends on what the ME tells us about that TA last night. Pretty light other than that. A couple of burglaries.a aGood. I need a Field Training Officer.a aI did the last one. Use Carelli.a Donaldson shook his head. aCome to my office.a Donaldson walked away from the desk and Brodie cursed under her breath as she got up and followed him to his office at the back of the squad room. Blinds on the gla.s.s windows facing the squad room were still closed when she entered the cluttered room. That was never a good sign.

aClose the door behind you,a Donaldson ordered as he dropped into his chair. The office was spa.r.s.ely furnished with an old wooden desk he had salvaged from property disposal because he claimed it had character and a couple of straight back wooden chairs which were definitely not built for comfort. If an officer was called before Captain Donaldson, he wanted to make sure they were not comfortable while he chewed their a.s.ses off. She had known Donaldson for more than ten years and considered him to be a fair man. h.e.l.l, she owed her job to him. When she resigned from the Austin PD under less than auspicious circ.u.mstances, he hired her despite a barely adequate proficiency report in which her watch commander questioned her competency. She had been determined Donaldson would never regret hiring her. But that didnat mean she always liked his decisions.

aWe have a new detective coming on board from Austin PD,a Donaldson said. aShe pa.s.sed the exam about a month ago and Iam going to put her with you and Nicholls until she learns the way we do things around here.a aShe?a aYou got a problem with that?a aWhy isnat she training with Austin PD?a Brodie asked.

aBecause thereas at least a six month waiting list before she could be placed in a position in Austin and we have a slot opening here when Harlan retires next month.a aAnd after we do all the hard work is she planning to move back to a higher paying position when one comes open in Austin?a aSays she doesnat have any plans to move back to Austin.a aWh.o.a.re you gonna partner her up with after her training is over?a aIall worry about that when the time comes.a aYou should worry about it now, Fred. Look whatas left out there. Carelli hasnat been ten feet from his desk in months waiting for retirement. s.h.i.t, he was on the job here when this place didnat even have paved roads.a aThere is Romero, but the department and the city council canat afford a s.e.xual hara.s.sment lawsuit and he couldnat keep his d.i.c.k in his pants long enough to train a flea,a Donaldson said with a smirk. Brodie laughed out loud. aCap, you know as well as I do that the minute thereas an opening in Austin, sheas gonna rabbit outta here. Weall be footing the training bill for a detective we might never get to use.a aI donat think so. Said she wants something less political than Austin PD. That political bulls.h.i.t was part of what brought you here, wasnat it?a he asked, hitting a nerve.

aYou know why Iam here.a Chuckling to herself she asked, aWho did she have to sleep with to get hired anyway?a Donaldson leaned forward on his desk. aLet me tell you something, Brodie. Iam the one who interviewed her for the opening here and f.u.c.kina her wasnat part of my interview process. Iam a happily married man getting more than my fair share of p.u.s.s.y at home. So get your a.s.s out there, grab Mr. Hollywood and get ready to train her. She starts bright and early Monday.a aCan I a.s.sume Mr. Hollywood and I will both be her training officers?a aI donat give a s.h.i.t what you a.s.sume. Whatever rotates your rudder. Just make sure Nicholls doesnat turn into another Romero and chase her skirt around all f.u.c.kina day. No matter how much you object, I know youall train her right. You did a h.e.l.luva job getting Nicholls in line. Heas one of my best detectives now and if this woman turns out half as good I wonat give a s.h.i.t who sheas sleeping with. Questions?a She opened her mouth to say something, but before she had time to get it out Donaldson said, aGood! Get out!a She pushed her body up from the chair and walked out of the office. It might be a weekend, but she already had the feeling it wasnat going to be a memorable one. By the time she reached her desk, mild depression had begun to settle in. She sat down and picked up her cold cup of coffee, glancing at it for a moment before thinking better of it. Nicholls was on the phone and furiously scribbling down whatever he was hearing. Finally, he tossed his pencil onto his desk. aLook, why donat we just come down there? Itad be faster than me playing stenographer,a he said. After a few uh huhs, yeps and nopes, he finally hung up. aAnything enlightening?a she asked.

aThat was some egghead from the MEas office. Must have just graduated from college and is still enamored with polysyllabic words. Feel like taking a run over there and see if we can find someone who speaks generic English?a aWhy not? An autopsy couldnat possibly depress me any more than I already am,a she said with a shrug. aBut before we head into the big city, I want to stop by the scene of last nightas TA and see it in the daylight.a THEY DUCKED UNDER the yellow tape cordoning off the area around the accident scene and stood looking around for a few minutes. Calvin Davis, a technician with Cedar Springsa two-man forensics department, was guiding a wrecker up to what remained of the vehicle as they approached.

aWhat brings you two out here again?a he asked as the detectives approached him.

aJust wanted to see if we missed anything last night,a Brodie said. aHow long do you think itall be before we get a report on the vehicle?a aCouple of days. Weare not too backed up. Cedar Springs isnat the crime capital of America or anything.a Brodie walked to the far side of the vehicle looking for the place Ramirez had pointed out the night before. She squatted down when she finally saw the footprint impressions. There wasnat much of an impression left, but what remained was definitely distinctive. She stood up and looked to see if there were other footprints leading toward or away from the vehicle.

aWhatare you looking for?a Nicholls asked.

aWhat size shoe you think made these prints?a she asked, squatting down again.

aHmm. Could be a ten or elevena he answered as he placed his shoe next to the impression. aKinda hard to tell.a aHey, Davis!a She motioned for the technician to join her and waited as he jogged over.

aYou think you can get a decent cast of these shoe impressions?a Davis looked at the prints and shook his head.

aNot much to work with. Thereas a pretty distinctive pattern on the bottom of the shoe, but I doubt I could pick it up with plaster. Too much gra.s.s. Pictures might be better.a aDid anyone take pictures last night?a she asked.

aProbably, but I couldnat swear to it.a aGot your camera?a aAlways.a aThen take some shots of these prints and get as close as you can. The pattern on the soles might be useful. Even if they did take pictures earlier, a second set wonat hurt,a she said as she walked away from the vehicle.

aNow what?a Nicholls asked.

aTrying to see if we can pick up those prints again. Look over that way,a she said.

They searched through the gra.s.s for half an hour before giving up. aGuess either the guy flew in and then flew out or any other prints were goobered up while they were working on the fire,a Nicholls said when he rejoined her.

aLooks like,a she said absently. aLetas get to the MEas office so we can miss the lunch hour rush.a FORTY MINUTES LATER, Nicholls was guiding their car skillfully through Austin traffic. It seemed to Brodie that no matter what time of day or night you hit the Austin freeways there was always a traffic jam. She had lived in the city for years and never figured out where everyone was always going in such a G.o.dawful rush. Even little, blue-haired old ladies who could barely see over the steering wheel somehow managed to do seventy on the way to the beauty shop for their weekly appointments. She had once stopped an old lady for speeding, but when she approached the car she thought it was empty. The woman was a bag of wrinkles, so shrunken she was barely tall enough to see out the side window. Without a periscope there was no way in h.e.l.l she could have seen what was around her, but there she was, clipping along at seventy-five.

She smiled as she gazed out the window at the cars pa.s.sing them. She knew Nicholls was speeding. He always did, claiming it was the only real perk being a police officer offered. But cars were rushing by them on both sides as if they were standing still. When she had been a patrol officer on these very freeways she enjoyed driving forty-five in a sixty zone for no other reason than to see how many motorists would be afraid to pa.s.s her for fear of getting a ticket. Locals would stream by her and only the tourists would faithfully follow her until she turned off. It had been her own informal experiment in human behavior to convince herself her degree in psychology hadnat been a total waste of time and money. Not that it had ever helped her solve the complexities of her own life.

aYouare pretty quiet, RB. Not happy about the new trainee?a Nicholls asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Squinting, she looked at her partner. aItas a woman.a aSo whatas the problem?a he grinned. aYou like women.a Yeah, I do, she thought. On the dance floor, in the kitchen, or on their backs in bed. Although Nicholls was aware of her s.e.xual preference he wasnat particularly comfortable with it. It was a non-topic between them despite the fact she was usually forced to listen to stories of his s.e.xual exploits on a daily basis. h.e.l.l, if she were his age again she would probably be doing the same thing. She smiled to herself.

aDid you turn it down?a Nicholls asked.

aWhat? Oh, no. Didnat get a chance to, but itas not all bad. You get to be the unofficial official a.s.sistant training officer,a she said.

aIam sure sheall be all right, RB. Whatas her name?a aDonat know. Didnat get that far before Donaldson told me to haul my a.s.s out of his office.a Nichollsa face took on a serious expression.

aYouare not gonna show her any slack, are you?a Watching the seemingly endless line of cars and trucks in front of them, she said, aNope. A woman has to cope the same as a man.a They remained silent the remainder of the drive deep into the city. Nicholls finally found a parking place halfway between the Travis County Medical Examineras Office and the Austin city limits. It was apparently a busy week for the Medical Examiner. As they rode the elevator to the bas.e.m.e.nt of the county office building Brodie could smell the formaldehyde and other chemicals from the morgue and autopsy rooms before the elevator doors opened.

The Medical Examineras section was surprising bright. Someone, obviously someone with a sense of humor, had placed cheerful posters of children and wildflowers along the corridor walls in an attempt to counteract the nature of the work taking place inside the bas.e.m.e.nt autopsy rooms. They stopped at the receptionistas desk halfway down the corridor. The woman behind the desk was typing furiously and appeared to be in a trance. She was wearing headphones attached to a ca.s.sette player on her desk and didnat seem to notice the two visitors until Brodie reached over the counter and tapped her on the shoulder. Startled, the woman ripped the headphones off and glared at the detective. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties and Brodie noticed she had been a little heavy-handed with her make-up that morning. She smiled to disarm the fuse she lit by surprising the woman.