Tunnel Vision (3 page)

“Goddammit, Max. Where did you come from?”

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 didn’t help as she stifled a yawn.

She knew she wasn’t 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 damn 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

“leching around” 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 goddamn much when it ended.

Growing older was a bitch, she thought,

swallowing the last of her coffee. Maybe she’d 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 hell 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.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, unless you’ve just had a bottle of antacids,” she warned.

“Why?”

“I put a shitload of creamer in mine and the stuff never even changed color.” Brodie looked around the squad room. “Hey, Carelli! Who made the coffee this morning?”

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.

“Tastes like Harlan got here first,” he answered without looking up.

Shaking her head she muttered to herself. “Harlan should have stayed in the Marines. No wonder they’re so damn mean. Probably from drinkin’ his fuckin’

coffee.”

Returning to her desk she opened a manila folder and began reading the contents.

“That the prelim on Charcoal Bill?” Nicholls asked as he flipped on the computer terminal on his desk.

“Yeah,” she grunted. “Guess what? Vehicle

burned, victim died.”

Nicholls chuckled to himself. “Who wrote that astute observation?”

“Patrol Officer Allen Underwood. First shift on the job.”

“Well, you always told me to keep my reports simple and to the point.”

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.

“How’s your workload, Brodie?”

She shrugged. “Depends on what the ME tells us about that TA last night. Pretty light other than that. A couple of burglaries.”

“Good. I need a Field Training Officer.”

“I did the last one. Use Carelli.”

Donaldson shook his head. “Come to my office.”

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 glass windows facing the squad room were still closed when she entered the cluttered room. That was never a good sign.

“Close the door behind you,” Donaldson ordered as he dropped into his chair. The office was sparsely 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 asses off. She had known Donaldson for more than ten years and considered him to be a fair man. Hell, she owed her job to him. When she resigned from the Austin PD under less than auspicious circumstances, 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 didn’t mean she always liked his decisions.

“We have a new detective coming on board from Austin PD,” Donaldson said. “She passed the exam about a month ago and I’m going to put her with you and Nicholls until she learns the way we do things around here.”

“She?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Why isn’t she training with Austin PD?” Brodie asked.

“Because there’s 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.”

“And after we do all the hard work is she

planning to move back to a higher paying position when one comes open in Austin?”

“Says she doesn’t have any plans to move back to Austin.”

“Who’re you gonna partner her up with after her training is over?”

“I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

“You should worry about it now, Fred. Look what’s left out there. Carelli hasn’t been ten feet from his desk in months waiting for retirement. Shit, he was on the job here when this place didn’t even have paved roads.”

“There is Romero, but the department and the city council can’t afford a sexual harassment lawsuit and he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to train a flea,” Donaldson said with a smirk. Brodie laughed out loud. “Cap, you know as well as I do that the minute there’s an opening in Austin, she’s gonna rabbit outta here. We’ll be footing the training bill for a detective we might never get to use.”

“I don’t think so. Said she wants something less political than Austin PD. That political bullshit was part of what brought you here, wasn’t it?” he asked, hitting a nerve.

“You know why I’m here.” Chuckling to herself she asked, “Who did she have to sleep with to get hired anyway?”

Donaldson leaned forward on his desk. “Let me tell you something, Brodie. I’m the one who interviewed her for the opening here and fuckin’ her wasn’t part of my interview process. I’m a happily married man getting more than my fair share of pussy at home. So get your ass out there, grab Mr. Hollywood and get ready to train her. She starts bright and early Monday.”

“Can I assume Mr. Hollywood and I will both be her training officers?”

“I don’t give a shit what you assume. Whatever rotates your rudder. Just make sure Nicholls doesn’t turn into another Romero and chase her skirt around all fuckin’ day. No matter how much you object, I know you’ll train her right. You did a helluva job getting Nicholls in line. He’s one of my best detectives now and if this woman turns out half as good I won’t give a shit who she’s sleeping with. Questions?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she had time to get it out Donaldson said,

“Good! Get out!”

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 wasn’t 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. “Look, why don’t we just come down there? It’d be faster than me playing stenographer,” he said. After a few uh huhs, yeps and nopes, he finally hung up. “Anything enlightening?” she asked.

“That was some egghead from the ME’s 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?”

“Why not? An autopsy couldn’t possibly depress me any more than I already am,” she said with a shrug. “But before we head into the big city, I want to stop by the scene of last night’s TA and see it in the daylight.”

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 Springs’ two-man forensics department, was guiding a wrecker up to what remained of the vehicle as they approached.

“What brings you two out here again?” he asked as the detectives approached him.

“Just wanted to see if we missed anything last night,” Brodie said. “How long do you think it’ll be before we get a report on the vehicle?”

“Couple of days. We’re not too backed up. Cedar Springs isn’t the crime capital of America or anything.”

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 wasn’t 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.

“What’re you looking for?” Nicholls asked.

“What size shoe you think made these prints?” she asked, squatting down again.

“Hmm. Could be a ten or eleven” he answered as he placed his shoe next to the impression. “Kinda hard to tell.”

“Hey, Davis!” She motioned for the technician to join her and waited as he jogged over.

“You think you can get a decent cast of these shoe impressions?”

Davis looked at the prints and shook his head.

“Not much to work with. There’s a pretty distinctive pattern on the bottom of the shoe, but I doubt I could pick it up with plaster. Too much grass. Pictures might be better.”

“Did anyone take pictures last night?” she asked.

“Probably, but I couldn’t swear to it.”

“Got your camera?”

“Always.”

“Then 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 won’t hurt,” she said as she walked away from the vehicle.

“Now what?” Nicholls asked.

“Trying to see if we can pick up those prints again. Look over that way,” she said.

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

“Looks like,” she said absently. “Let’s get to the ME’s office so we can miss the lunch hour rush.”

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 Godawful 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 hell 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 passing 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 pass 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 hadn’t been a total waste of time and money. Not that it had ever helped her solve the complexities of her own life.

“You’re pretty quiet, RB. Not happy about the new trainee?” Nicholls asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Squinting, she looked at her partner. “It’s a woman.”

“So what’s the problem?” he grinned. “You like women.”

Yeah, I do
, she thought.
On the dance floor, in the
kitchen, or on their backs in bed.
Although Nicholls was aware of her sexual preference he wasn’t particularly comfortable with it. It was a non-topic between them despite the fact she was usually forced to listen to stories of his sexual exploits on a daily basis. Hell, if she were his age again she would probably be doing the same thing. She smiled to herself.

“Did you turn it down?” Nicholls asked.

“What? Oh, no. Didn’t get a chance to, but it’s not all bad. You get to be the unofficial official assistant training officer,” she said.

“I’m sure she’ll be all right, RB. What’s her name?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t get that far before Donaldson told me to haul my ass out of his office.”

Nicholls’ face took on a serious expression.

“You’re not gonna show her any slack, are you?”

Watching the seemingly endless line of cars and trucks in front of them, she said, “Nope. A woman has to cope the same as a man.”

They remained silent the remainder of the drive deep into the city. Nicholls finally found a parking place halfway between the Travis County Medical Examiner’s Office and the Austin city limits. It was apparently a busy week for the Medical Examiner. As they rode the elevator to the basement of the county office building Brodie could smell the formaldehyde and other chemicals from the morgue and autopsy rooms before the elevator doors opened.