"Female. Gunned down in broad daylight. Looks early thirties, maybe late twenties." Detective Amy Sykes retains the information in her handheld tablet computer as she follows Captain Sharon Raydor around the brutal crime scene.
"No identification?" Raydor crouches down, wearing her new sleek black pencil pants. This probably wasn't the best place or scene to wear them to, but it would have to do.
"Not currently, Captain."
"Let me guess, no one saw a single thing."
"You'd be correct, ma'am."
Sharon nods slowly, continuing to look at the young woman. She looked familiar, "Has anyone spoken to the abortion clinic staff?" She glances up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks at the name of the building.
"We're here in Santa Monica at the scene of a gruesome drive by-"
"This crime scene needs to be covered. Sanchez, you and Sykes get up a tent, or even a small one to cover the body. I don't want the press to have people afraid to leave their homes. Also, get the press away from here, put up barriers." She straightens up, "And why wasn't this crime scene covered properly in the first place?" Raydor glances to Sykes, "Who was the responding officer?"
"Can't be found, ma'am." Amy watches her, helping Sanchez when he brings the folded tall white tent over.
"What?" She shakes her head, "What do you mean?"
"The responding officer left the scene already. Had a family emergency."
"Such as?"
"His wife was in labor, ma'am." Sanchez interrupts.
"Oh." Sharon nods, smiling ever so slightly, "What can you tell me about the weapon used?"
"I can tell you that it was fired, then thrown from the car." He nods, lowering the legs and pulling the walls of the tent around to block it from the press.
Raydor swings her head around, attempting to visualize how the entire thing took place, "None of the windows of the building were hit. The woman was the target, not the building."
"That's correct." Sanchez nods, carrying the murder weapon over to her, "Semi-automatics are common for drive by shootings, however this was someone waiting in a car when she walked out." He walks her over to the street to demonstrate, "As you can see, the casings right here." He kneels, showing how he suspects it took place, 'Pow pow pow. Few more times. Wanted to make sure she was dead. Drop the gun, and drove off."
"Two shooters."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Okay. Is anyone in with the clinic staff right now?"
"Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn, ma'am."
Sharon sighs heavily, hoping for no antics this time, "Okay. Thank you, Detective." She walks toward the building, hearing shouting even before the door is opens for her by two uniformed officers.
"Look, a young woman was shot right outside. The lives of your other patients may be at stake." Flynn yells over the counter to an older black woman sitting behind the desk.
"Sir, this is still a clinic. Our records are confidential no matter-" The woman starts, noticing the other officer walk in.
Sharon offers the woman a smile and flashes her badge, "I apologize for whatever my two officers have threatened you with-"
"Aiding a felon, running an illegal clinic, drug possession, imprisonment." The woman looks to Raydor, "I will not give over any records for that young woman out there without a warrant."
"Of course not." Raydor offers her hand to the woman, "I'm Captain Sharon Raydor of the LAPD, can you tell me if the woman outside was a patient here?" When the other woman shakes her head, "Can you give me a name for her?" She puts her hand up when the other woman starts to protest, "Not her full medical history, just a name so that we can notify her family. They don't need to know that she was a patient here, if she was a patient here. We won't tell them that. We just need the opportunity to find the facts."
The woman glances back and forth before writing a name on the back of a business card, "I can be fired for this, but this is the name she gave us. May not be her real one, but it's what it is." She slides the card across the desk area in front of her.
Sharon grins broadly, "Thank you very much. What was your name again?"
"Stephanie Banks."
"Ms. Banks, thank you so much for your cooperation and I apologize for my Lieutenants causing of any possible headaches." She nods, "Are you available at this number if we need you?"
"Of course."
Captain Raydor spins on her toe to face the other direction and holds the card up between her fingers, only to have Lieutenant Louie Provenza take it from her, "A little genuine courtesy and kindness goes a long way." She walks with them, "Lieutenant Provenza, call and see what preliminary information you can retrieve on that name. Lieutenant Flynn, see if anyone beyond the barrier saw anything. Most were saying they did not, but I believe they may have been worried about interfering with gang business. I don't think that's what we have here. So, reassure them and see what we have." She watches as the two men walk in opposite directions only to have her phone ring, a picture of Rusty Beck floods the screen with the ringtone "Highway to Hell' that he set as his personal ringtone because he thought it would be funny coming from her phone. She pauses a moment to smile fondly at the photo before sweeping her finger across the glass, "Hello, Rusty."
"Hey, it's me." Rusty mumbles into the phone, then rolls his eyes at himself, "Sorry. So...could you come pick me up?"
"Rusty, it's only-" She pauses bringing her wrist up to check the time, "One in the afternoon. Is something wrong? Are you feeling poorly?"
"Yeah, that one. The second one. I'm poorly." He replies, listening to her, "I don't care. I'll come sit at one of those crime scenes in the car and do homework, or even at your office. Just, please."
Sharon raises an eyebrow, hearing the pleading in his voice, "I'll be there in a few moments." She didn't know what was going on with her foster son, but she knew it must be bad or else he wouldn't call her like this. She walks over to Lieutenant Provenza who is leaning against the unmarked car on his phone, "Lieutenant, any word?"
Provenza shakes his head, "No, Captain. Nothing yet. I'm betting we'll hear something soon though."
She nods, "Yes, well, I just got a call and need to pick Rusty up from school. Will you be okay handling things here while I do that? Depending on what's going on, I may either bring him with me or drop him off at home."
"Of course. Things are covered here." He answers gruffly, but would do anything where the kid was concerned, "I'll call you if anything comes up."
Sharon smiles to him with a nod, "Thank you, Lieutenant." She walks to her silver sedan and climbs behind the steering wheel, buckling her seatbelt, and adjusting her mirrors before even starting the vehicle. The ride was quiet, light classical music illuminating through the speakers to allow the calm to wash over her. The parking lot at Saint Joseph's Catholic School was nearly empty. Seniors were the only students able to drive to school. Some Juniors were given the privilege if a signed note was brought in for cause.
Jogging up the concrete stairs to the main door of the school. Sharon Raydor is let into the building after identifying herself at the buzzer. She walks into the office sign-out sheet and writes her name down, and Rusty's name, letting the secretary know of her plans to take him out for the day.
"You can wait for him in the lobby when you're finished signing him out." The secretary offers her a courteous smile. Sharon makes sure to get a look at the woman, almost certain she was there when her own children attended the school. She decides against asking the woman, relocating to the metal bench in the lobby of the school instead.
"Awww. Mommy came to pick little Rusty up from school."
"She's not my mom."
"Too hot to be your grandma."
Sharon listens closely to the exchange, quickly picking out Rusty's voice.
"Let me go."
"Why should I?" A slam into the lockers, "I saw what you did to those other guys, maybe I want to really beat your ass myself. Show those pansies how it's done."
"You harm a single hair on his head and I'll take you in on harassment and battery charges." Sharon nearly growls, standing behind the large, broad chested teenager, "How old are you?"
The large boy turns slowly, dropping Rusty's collar from his hand, "Have to get a girl to fight for you?" He smirks, still speaking to Rusty, but looking at Sharon.
"Sharon, leave this alone, please." Rusty follows her closely, pleading.
"No, I don't think I will. I asked you how old you were. What is your answer?"
"Nineteen, what's it to you?" The muscular young man smirks.
Sharon doesn't back down, in fact, it only gives her more incentive to move closer, "You'd be charged as an adult and those charges will be on a minor. All of which does not paint a very good picture for you with the rest of your life. I assume you're attempting a college football scholarship?"
"Wrestling." He corrects, shaking his head, "Stay away from me." He growls at Rusty before walking off.
"I really wish you wouldn't have done that." Rusty sighs, walking past her and toward the car.
Raydor attempts to stay with the teenager's quick pace. She watches as he gruffly tosses his backpack into the back seat and sits in the front, buckling then folding his arms. She buckles her safety belt, then checks her mirrors, but before pulling out, she glances to him, "Why did you have me pick you up?"
"Can we just go?" He mumbles, glancing through the glass of his window. The bright light of the California sun causes him to squint his eyes.
"Not until you answer me."
He sighs dramatically. "At the beginning of the semester, it's a requirement to take the Presidential Physical Fitness test. Also at the end of the semester to show how much you've improved."
"Okay, and why is that an issue?"
"Because any time I beat those guys times or do more push-ups or sit-ups than they do-"
"You get picked on." Sharon nods slowly, understanding, "You have to take it though, Rusty."
"I know."
"I'll call and see if it can be handled privately. Would you prefer that?"
Rusty nods a little, "Thanks." He replies softly, glancing over when he feels the woman pat his hand before starting the car. He smiles ever so slightly, "Where are you taking me?" He speaks over top of the ringing phone.
"Hold on one moment. I'm sorry." Sharon nods, using her Bluetooth earpiece to answer her call, "Yes, Lieutenant?" The name on the phone beams Lt. Louie Provenza. She listens intently, "New information?"
Provenza glances around the crime scene, "Yeah, I don't want to tell you over the phone. Especially with the kid in the car...I'm assuming you've already gotten the kid, right?"
"Yes, Someone we know?"
"Someone that's caused one too many problems anyway."
Sharon Raydor raises an eyebrow, "I'd rather you just inform me over-"
"Captain..." Lieutenant Provenza lets out a breath he sounds like he was holding, "The victim, married name of Sharon Morgan, is none other than Sharon Beck."
"Sharon, brake!" Rusty barks at her.
Raydor stomps her foot on the break, narrowly avoiding a terrible collision, glancing over to the young boy quickly, "Sorry." She replies pitifully. That's why the body looked so familiar to her at the scene. She clears her throat, looking back to the window in front of her, "Are you certain of this, Lieutenant?"
"Body is on her way to the morgue. Morales will confirm for sure and...course of action can be taken then. I don't know what you want to do about Rusty. He could identify a body if we need it."
"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Lieutenant. I'll...Okay...I'll meet you or Lieutenant Flynn in the Morgue, then?"
"Yes, Captain. Lieutenant Flynn will meet you there. We'll still collecting and photographing, we'll be along in an hour or so." Provenza could hear the uncertainty and sadness in the other woman's voice, quite the contrast from the confident woman who had left the crime scene a good forty-five minutes before, "You okay, Captain?"
"Yes, Lieutenant. I will meet you all in the office." She pushes the button on her Bluetooth headpiece. She knew she couldn't say anything to the boy in her car yet. She knew it could be a mistake, but something in her heart knew that it wasn't. She knew the body lying on the pavement outside an abortion clinic in Santa Monica was that of Sharon Beck. Swallowing before she begins to talk, she looks over to the blond haired young man in her passenger seat, "So...what else did you do in school today?"
