First Offense (22 page)

“Okay,” Reed said, “let’s get back to Hank.”

“When he jumped me and started grabbing me,” Ann said, “he kept telling me to relax. I think he got turned on being near me, wanted to touch me…wanted to…”

“Rape you?” Reed said.

Recalling the man’s hands on her breasts, she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. “Maybe not rape me, but close. He could have changed his mind and decided to tell me the truth once he was here.

Maybe he wanted to really make love to me. Tommy, you know, for old times’ sake. This person…he pinched my nipples. Hank used to do that when we had sex.” Ann turned her head to the side and mumbled the rest. “He loved to do that.”

“You never told me that,” Tommy said, a curious look on his face. “You mean he used to hurt you in the bedroom too?”

Ann knew what he was referring to and quickly clammed up, giving him a harsh glance. Tommy knew this topic was taboo.

Letting it go, he continued, “I still don’t buy it, Ann. According to a snitch Whittaker talked to tonight. Sawyer is involved in a heavy-duty drug operation, not what we originally thought. He’s involved with drug traffickers from Colombia, though he’s only a bit player in the overall picture. These people—” He stopped himself. The less she knew the better. She was terrified enough as it was. “Let’s just leave it at that. That’s where you should worry, not about Hank coming back after all this time.”

“If these were ruthless drug dealers,” Ann shot back, “they would have been armed to the hilt. Whoever broke in here tonight wasn’t armed. If the guy had a gun, why didn’t he return my fire?”

Reed put a hand to his face, pulling on his cheek, feeling the day-old stubble. She had a point on that one. “If it was Sawyer, Ann, he might have tossed his gun after he shot you, then just never bought another one. There was too much heat for him to walk into a gun store and buy a weapon. He would be too afraid we’d be sitting there waiting to grab him.”

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Ann said, annoyed. She got up and headed for her bedroom, leaving Tommy standing there. The long night had taken its toll, and she fell facedown onto her bed. Was Tommy right? Was she acting foolishly, marring her husband’s reputation for nothing? People were treating her the same way they had when Hank vanished and she’d acted irrationally. Well, Ann thought, grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose, maybe they’d act peculiar too if their husband or loved one disappeared without a trace.

A short time later, she smelled Tommy’s after-shave and rolled over. He was leaning over her bed. “I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight and let myself out in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Ann mumbled. Then she thought of the attacker’s rough hands on her body, the way he had said David’s name, and sat up sharply. “Is David safe. Tommy? Maybe we should go and get him. I’m so frightened.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Ann,” the detective reassured her. “Aren’t the boy’s parents in the house?”

“Yes,” Ann said, her lower lip trembling. “What am I going to do? What if he comes back to get David?”

Tommy’s big hands gently pushed Ann back to a reclining position. “Right now you’re going to get some sleep. Put everything out of your mind. Take it one day at a time. If you don’t, you won’t be able to take care of yourself, let alone David.” The detective leaned down and kissed Ann chastely on the forehead. Turning off the bedroom lights, he went to the living room and promptly passed out on the sofa.

Overtired and stimulated, Ann could not sleep. Her mind was sorting and organizing, trying to find the truth. Hank liked com, and the attacker had eaten com. He was dense and heavy like the attacker, not lean like Sawyer. Being a cop, he was agile and would have instinctively dropped to the ground when she chased him out of the house, fearing she would come out shooting. He also knew what no one else knew—that Ann hadn’t fired a gun in years. Would he have foreseen her hesitation before pulling the trigger? Of course, she thought, recalling a conversation along those lines, her telling him she didn’t know if she could take another person’s life.

The most convincing factor was the man’s eyes. Peering out into the darkness, she could still see them staring back at her. Tommy and the others could say anything they wanted, she decided. They could call her a hysteric, even call her crazy. She knew she had looked into those eyes before, and even if it was Hank, she never wanted to look into them again.

Chapter
12

O
nce Ann had picked up David at his friend’s house and dropped him off at school, she raced to the office and called Glen. When she told him what had happened at her house, he was appalled. “Can I come over and talk to you?” Ann said. “There’s something about all this that you need to know.”

There was a long pause before Glen asked, “Can’t you just tell me over the phone, Ann? I’m swamped right now. I have to be in court in thirty minutes.”

Couldn’t he even take a moment to listen to her? she thought, miffed. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. There’s no privacy in my office. You know that. Glen. It won’t take more than a few minutes. I’m coming over right now.” Before he could protest again, she disconnected and marched over to the adjoining building.

The Ventura County district attorney’s office was set up like the probation department: one enormous space divided up into various work stations. But the assistant district attorneys had actual offices ringing the open room, all with windows. It was eight forty-five by the time Ann got there, one of the busiest times of the day. Attorneys were rushing in to go over their notes and arguments one last time before court, printers were spilling out copy, phones were jangling.

Ann stepped into Glen’s office and closed the door behind her. Hearing the click, he looked up from his work. “Sit down, Ann. Forgive me for being so abrupt on the phone. It’s Friday, though, and it’s been a hectic week.”

Hectic week? You should have been in my shoes, Ann thought. Her annoyance subsided, though, as she gazed at him. Dressed in a dark gray suit, a lavender shirt, and his customary cowboy boots, he looked rugged and handsome.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I was hoping we could get together tomorrow night. You know, spend a nice evening together and put all this other stuff out of our minds.”

“Sounds nice,” Ann said, even though right now she didn’t think it was possible to put what was going on out of her mind. But an evening of being held in Glen’s arms seemed just what she needed. “David’s going to Magic Mountain with a friend this weekend. We can get together then. I miss you. Glen. It’s been so long.”

“I know,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I miss you too. I think about you all the time. I’m crushed over what you’ve been through…all you’ve suffered. It’s absolutely awful.”

Ann started blinking back tears. She was fine as long as no one expressed sympathy. The moment people did, the moment she saw it in their eyes, her composure disintegrated. Just when she had started to put her life back together, it had all been ripped away. She hadn’t made love with Glen since the shooting. Her body yearned for him, the way he felt, the way he smelled, the way he made her feel.

That reminded her why she had come. “I have to tell you something. Look, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, Glen, but that man last night…” She was about to tell him her suspicions about Hank when his phone rang, and a strange look appeared in his eyes.

At first Glen just ignored it. “Go on, Ann. I’m listening. What about the man last night?”

“Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” The phone stopped, but immediately, it began ringing again. “Listen, I’m sorry I came over here and bothered you when you’re so busy. This can wait. Go on, answer it. It could be something important.”

“No, Ann, really,” he said anxiously. “Whatever it is can wait.”

A feeling of warmth washed over her, seeing how much he really cared. Finally the phone stopped ringing. Ann had opened her mouth to speak when it started ringing again. “Shit,” she said, the moment gone. “Answer it or they’ll just keep calling back. I’ve got a headache.” She rubbed her forehead as another ring sounded. “I can’t sit here and talk with the damn phone ringing all the time.”

Glen reached out and tried to hit the hands-free button and missed. Infuriated, he quickly swiped at the receiver, almost knocking the phone to the floor. Once he heard who it was, he swiveled his chair around with his back to Ann. “No,” he barked into the phone, “I already disposed of that case myself. It’s right there in the file.”

Ann sat quietly, waiting. Then she stood, deciding to come back later.

Glen got up and closed the distance between them, taking Ann in his arms and leaning back against the door just in case someone tried to walk in. “We’re going to put the case together on Sawyer, Ann. Don’t worry. I’ll work night and day if I have to.”

For no good reason his closeness felt stifling. Ann felt herself breathing in jerky pants, the night before flashing in her mind. The way the man had smelled, the disgusting way he had touched her. Her hands were stiff at her sides, the muscles in her back like concrete. Even though it was Glen, she couldn’t help recoiling from a man’s touch.

“Trust me,” Glen whispered, trying to pull her closer to his body. Ann ducked and slipped away, taking a few steps back. “Oh, and Ann, I’m finishing up on Delvecchio today. Drop by if you can, okay?”

“I will.”

Ann rushed out the door, heading down the corridor to the elevators with her head down, not looking where she was going. She was so addled, she thought, she hadn’t even told Glen about Hank. She walked right into Ian McIntosh, a D.A. she knew well. A reed-thin redhead, McIntosh was a marathon runner. To Ann, he looked as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

“Ann,” he said, embarrassed. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

“No,” she said, dropping her eyes. “I think it was my fault.”

She had started to walk off when he said, “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to call you ever since I heard what happened. God, how awful. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she said weakly. “Really, it wasn’t that bad an injury. It’s the fear more than anything.”

“I hear they caught the guy. That’s got to make you sleep easier.”

“Not exactly. He’s out on bail,” she said sardonically. “Last night someone broke into my house and attacked me again.”

“No,” he said, shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding. Was it the same guy?”

“I don’t really know, Ian,” Ann said, sucking one comer of her lip into her mouth.

He appeared to be playing something over in his mind. “Well, since you’re here, I guess I should tell you the bad news about Carl Simmons.”

“What bad news? He’s in prison.”

“The case was overturned on appeal.”

“He’s out?” Ann was thunderstruck, unable to believe what she was hearing. Carl Simmons had butchered two little girls, a case she had investigated. “What happened? It wasn’t anything I did, was it?”

“No,” McIntosh said. “The appellate court was mainly concerned with the expert testimony. Seems our Dr. Adams is a real whore. He contradicted his own statements.”

“Fuck,” Ann said, ready to explode. “I knew you shouldn’t have used that bastard.” Benjamin Adams was a prominent psychiatrist who earned a sizable percentage of his income from acting as an expert witness in court hearings. The only problem was that he would sell out to the highest bidder. The doctor had evidently impeached his own testimony, and his testimony had gone a long way toward convicting Carl Simmons. Hence, the appeal. “Are you going to refile?”

“Of course, but we want to make certain our case is solid this time. We’re collecting new evidence now.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair, more concerned now than before. “You know, Ann, when I heard about you being shot, I immediately thought of Simmons and the scene he made in the courtroom. He thinks you railroaded him. Remember? He was hurling threats at you when they hauled him off that day. I didn’t say anything before, because I assumed he was still in prison. We were just notified the other day about the appeal.”

“I did railroad him,” Ann said, more thinking out loud than anything. “I didn’t say that,” she said quickly. “You didn’t hear me say that.”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” McIntosh said, laughing.

Ann didn’t think it was funny, and she gave the attorney a stem look before walking off. They were all hot and heavy when she came to them with the goods, but now that her life was on the line, it was something to laugh about. Shuffling off down the hall, jarred by what she’d just heard, Ann tried to bring Carl Simmons’s face into focus.

He was a big man, like the person who had attacked her last night. He hated her. There was no doubt about that. Ann had been sent to interview Simmons for a routine bail review. Bail was a moot issue in a case as serious as his, a double homicide involving children, but the court followed procedure. A bail review was another way to gain information from the probation department while the other proceedings were under way. The officer handling the bail review would run rap sheets and check criminal histories, as well as accumulate other pertinent facts about the defendant.

Simmons had been responsive. Ann had played him like a violin. Before she’d walked out of the room, he had claimed that there was no way he could have committed the crime. Both the young victims were raped, and Simmons swore he was impotent and had medical records to prove it. The man mistakenly thought the investigators had not learned the truth. Although the cases had been listed in the newspapers as rapes and homicides, they were technical rapes, the penetration made with a foreign object. They’d found no sperm. A man in the prime of his life unable to engage in sex, as Simmons had just stated he was, fit the psychological profile for this type of perversity. With Dr. Adams’s expert opinion and other physical evidence linking him to the homicides, Simmons had been convicted on both counts.

How could they release him? Two little girls were dead, and Carl Simmons was walking the streets again. Ann felt sick to her stomach, angry at the entire disgusting system that allowed something like this to happen. How could the parents of these children sleep at night? What would she do if it had been David who had been violated and murdered?