The Forsaken (36 page)

“Where?” Rachel and Mike asked together.

“I have to take care of something.”

“Don’t flake on me, Foster. Not now. Not in the last quarter.”

“I just need to make sure someone’s safe. I’ll be fine.”

That’s right. Go alone. Don’t let them stop you. This one’s for you.

“I’ll go with you,” Rachel offered, grabbing her jacket.

“No. I should do this alone.”

“Don’t be stupid. If what you’re saying’s true, going anywhere alone tonight could be suicide.”

“Then so be it.” Jude exited the room and stepped out into the violent rain.

Well done, sonny.

49

“CHIEF, THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!”
Rachel said in a high pitch. “If Jude is right, we shouldn’t be wasting our time chasing the wind.”

“Chasing the wind?” Detective Whitney repeated. “Take a good look, Chief. This is what naïveté looks like. Pretty on the outside but shallow.”

Rachel ignored the biting desire to scratch at Whitney’s creepy facial hair when he said it. “The only thing shallow in this room is my tolerance for your accusations against my partner.”

Whitney tilted his head with a puzzled expression. “Partner? And you think that cute little identifier makes you any different than either of us?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Whitney!”

“If I had my way, it wouldn’t be words,” Whitney whispered.

“Detective, you’re crossing the line,” Mike interjected. “I can’t force you not to prattle vulgarly outside these four walls, but while I am present, you will address both myself and Detective Sutherland with decency and respect.”

“Playing favorites already? Okay. Okay, that’s fine.” “World’s smallest violin playing just for you, Whitney,” Rachel said. “Cut it out. We don’t

have time for your petty antics.”

“Wow, that didn’t take long. New girl’s even talking like him now,” Whitney said. “Same tone, same bravado. You sure we can trust either of them?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of being such a thorn in everyone’s side?” she asked. “What right do you have to barge in here, like a coward, and accuse Jude of murder?”

“Him and that fat reporter were there at his place. I happened to be on my way to the department when I caught the two of them together.”

“Convenient,” she fumed.

Whitney tossed the incriminating photographs on the desk for Mike and Rachel to see. “Why would the biggest shut-in I know bring a reporter he hates back to his apartment?”

“Why don’t you enlighten us,” Rachel said, glaring.

“Well, I got two ideas. And one of them involves some rope and really, really bad music.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Am I?” Whitney replied, chewing his lip. “You can’t stand it that someone’s calling him out like this, can you? After all, it should be you, right? You know, I, uh, I overheard some of your discussion. Sounded kinda unfriendly. Hope he wasn’t too rough with you.”

“This is low, even for you.”

“Whitney, give her some space,” Mike commanded, thumbing through the black and white pictures.

“All I know, Chief, is that I saw two bodies go into his place yesterday. Jude’s the only one who walked out. If I had to guess, Vallace is still up there, either tied up in a cute little bow or bled dry.” Whitney allowed a few moments for his accusation to fully sink in. Rachel hated every blink. “Jude Foster’s got a few stains under his nails, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ever call me that again, you gutless vermin.” Rachel scratched the back of her neck. “You followed him like some paparazzi hungry for, what, a scandal? He’s working hard to bring down a serial psychopath, and all you’ve been trying to do is steal the focus and distract the chief.”

“Settle down, Rachel,” Mike requested. “He’s got a point. Foster left his desk unannounced yesterday for several hours.”

“Your white knight seems pretty taken by that fickle, selfish work ethic. Adolescent, really. But in line with his true colors.”

Rachel approached Whitney face to face. “And what colors are you self-righteously hiding behind now?”

“I’m just trying to do what’s right here.”

“By dividing us? Now, of all times.” Rachel turned toward Mike. “Ignore this child’s cry for attention. Baby gets put in a corner. Baby throws a fit and makes life miserable for everyone around him. Is this something you really want to entertain?”

Mike stayed quiet. Most of his wardrobe had dried by this point, but his armpits still had a damp residue evident on the fabric of his shirt. His nerves must have been killing him too.

“Bad timing. That’s what this is. Bad frickin’ timing.” Mike stretched his neck until there was a cracking sound.

“We should be out there with Jude. Not going behind his back. I don’t like this.”

“None of us
likes
it,” Mike growled. “Besides, your consent isn’t necessary, Rachel. Only reason you’re in here, is because Jude is your partner, and I enlisted your help for this case. Apart from that, you’ll get no special treatment from me. Not tonight.”

Rachel started counting in her brain. She counted the creases where the molding met on the bottoms of the walls. She counted how many times she blinked. She counted the seconds that the clock at the far end of the room ticked to.

Think, Rachel. Think about this. Does it even make sense? Can you really trust Jude after what he did to you? After how strange he’s been?

“He wouldn’t kill him. Vallace is just some reporter with a chip on his shoulder. Jude knows that. Why would he do this?”

Whitney picked up a photo and placed it in her hands. “It’s right there for you to see.”

Rachel lowered the image. In all honesty, it didn’t prove anything concrete to her. All it suggested was that Jude went into his place with Vallace and walked out alone. It didn’t mean he was responsible for hurting, or killing, Chase Vallace. Did it?

Maybe Whitney had a few drinks before tailing Jude. Maybe he lost track of time and dozed off.

Get real, Rachel. Jude tried to force himself on you. He hasn’t been right since day one. And ever since his trip to Haiti, he’s changed even more. He’s different.

Not that different.

She couldn’t take the thought of Whitney being right. Not about this.

“So, what, you’re just gonna sneak into his apartment without a warrant?” Rachel asked, heated. “Is that what it’s come to?”

“No time to play this one by the book.”

“Listen to yourself. You’re the chief of this department. You’ve known Jude for years. You’re his friend.”

“Don’t you think I know that! He was one of my best.
Was
. And this…could change things. I don’t know if Whitney’s right or if he’s stone-cold wrong. But I can’t just look away. I can’t take the chance. This is murder!”

“And we’re trying to stop a murderer! Jude’s out there right now, trying to bring him down before he strikes again.”

“Just to avoid confusion, are we talking about Cross or Foster when we say
he
?” Whitney said with a gloating grin.

“Shut up!” Mike said.

“It’s a theory, Chief.”
Why are you defending him? You gave him a part of your soul, and he ripped out your heart.
“It’s…a theory, not a fact. We don’t know anything for sure.”

“It’s more than a theory, sweetheart.”

Rachel swung at Whitney and smacked him hard on the face. His cheek blistered red and he turned toward Mike for relief.

“You were warned, slick.”

“Mike, please. We’re better than this.”

A long breath retreated from Mike’s big, round nostrils. It didn’t adjust his mood any, only made it more definite and impenetrable. “You’re going with him, Rachel. End of conversation.”

“Chief, I’d really prefer to work with someone else on this.”

“There is no
this
, Whitney,” Mike spat. “You get in and you get out. No other cop in this building needs to know what we’re doing. This stays between us and these walls, you get me?”

Whitney surrendered with a nod.

“Good. Now, Rachel’s going with you. And be careful. This storm’s shaping up to be somethin’ nasty. I want a call the moment you get there.”

“Yes, sir,” Whitney said, preparing to leave.

“Hold on, Detective,” Mike said, stuffing the photographs inside a manila folder. “Get rid of this crap, will ya?”

“Sure thing,” Whitney returned.

Rachel followed.

* * *

The car ride was painful. She recalled the first car ride with Jude—how uncomfortable it was. The discomfort creeping up her legs this time, though, superseded it. From stray glances at her chest to him clearing his throat every few seconds, it seemed Whitney’s skill for disrupting colleagues was at an apex.

“Static, static. My two favorite stations are down because of this storm. A couple blocks back, I think I saw some hail mixed in with the rain.”

“Just shut up. It’ll probably be over soon.” She realized the irony of her words the second she let them slip out.

Whitney turned the radio off. “So you really think I’m shooting for the moon with this, don’t you? Think I formulated this whole conspiracy thing against your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Rachel adamantly replied.

“There’s something there, Sutherland. You know it, and I know it.”

“All I know is I don’t like you.”

“You know, you’re kinda sexy when you’re angry. Do that face again.”

“Ever heard of sexual harassment?”

“Is that what you called Foster’s advances?”

She remained quiet.

“Women. It’s harassment unless it’s wanted. Then it’s fun.”

Rachel moved in her seat. The tension slid down her back. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t even talk to me. Let’s just do this. Put this dog to rest. It’s what you want.”

She took a left, following Whitney’s direction. She’d never seen this part of the city before. Never been to Jude’s apartment, and what she hated most was that it took something like this to invite her in.

“I’m not saying I like this, but then again, I’m not saying I don’t. Foster and I have been goin’ at it forever. But he always thought he was better than me. Thought he had it all figured out. Well, we’ll see tonight. I’m ahead of him this time.”

“How can you gloat like that? This is someone’s
life
. Jude is a colleague, and you’re bragging about throwing him behind bars? For the thrill of it?”

“I see what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re trying to make me seem like the bad guy. But I didn’t kill anybody, did I? Maybe your partner should’ve been a little smarter.”

“We don’t know anything for sure. But please…stop talking,” Rachel said.

“Fine. We’re almost there anyhow.”

She meant to count how many minutes it took them to arrive on Jude’s street, but the sound of rain hitting the windshield distracted her mind. She relived that night when she was riding in a cruiser. Mom was next to her in the backseat. She’d just gotten a call that Dad had been ambushed and knifed. It was amazing how long it took them to arrive at the hospital. The rain poured down then as it did now. Icy, apathetic. Only this time, she wasn’t rushing to see how the evening’s story was going to end, to see the truth on the other side of this dark rain. This time, she wanted to be left behind. There was safety in the unknown.

The car finally came to a halt, and she was first to step out. They waited awkwardly at the steps of the apartment building until someone used the exit. Whitney tried to make small talk with the young couple who had provided them with a way in, like he’d seen the residents before. Cautiously, they stepped inside, moved toward the elevator, and Whitney pressed the button for the third floor.

“You seem to know so much about this place,” Rachel said as soon as the elevator chimed.

Whitney ignored her comment and entered the hallway. “Follow me.”

“How are we planning to get inside?” Rachel asked.

Whitney glowed with a smile, pulling out a few keys.

“You’re unbelievable,” she whispered, knowing he’d most likely take that stab as a compliment somehow for executing exceptional police skills.

Whitney had swiped Jude’s keys when he wasn’t looking, he claimed, at some point he didn’t specify. That was when his suspicions really started to take root. Jude was getting a coffee and had left his keys in the top shelf of his desk, when Whitney came by to take the few that resembled apartment keys. He’d returned them to Jude’s key ring by the end of the day, once the duplicates had been created.

“Your white knight didn’t suspect a thing, sweetheart.”

Rachel leaned in like she was going to swing, but simply seeing Whitney flinch was enough.

“The only question is, which one opens this bad boy?”

Rachel started chewing her nails. “Hurry up before someone notices we’re not supposed to be here.”

After Whitney had stepped inside the apartment, an elderly woman in a wheelchair caught a glimpse of Rachel’s shadow, about to follow. She called out, “Who the blazes are you?” Her tone was layered with suspicion.