CHAPTER 4
Lassiter was dozing on the couch when his cell phone rang. His eyes opened and he blinked in confusion at the sound. He'd been sleeping deeply and it took him a few moments to gather his wits again. By the time he grabbed the phone, the ringing had stopped. He felt an uncomfortable sense of deja vu from the previous night and sighed, wishing he hadn't been awakened. The sleep had been dreamless which was a rare thing for him the past couple of days. He looked at the phone, expecting O'Hara's number, but it showed no information. A cold feeling filled the pit of his stomach. He sat up and waited out a wave of dizziness before standing up to get a drink from the kitchen, taking the phone with him. He stood at the counter, staring down at the phone as he drank some juice. The minutes dragged on and he started feeling sleepy again. Since his talk with Juliet, he'd spent most of the day napping. It was almost like he'd caught a flu or something, but he felt fine other than just terribly fatigued. He supposed it was just stress, which led him to the conclusion then and there that acute stress was a major pain in the ass to be avoided at all costs in the future.
He put the glass in the sink and rubbed his face with his hands. The phone rang. He froze and stared at it from between his fingers. He looked at the clock which read 4:30PM. Then he picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"You said you didn't want to do it?"
Lassiter grimaced and fought back a sharp retort. "That's right."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Who are you?" he asked, trying to pick out any clues he could hear through the phone. There were no other noises, and the person was whispering which made it hard to tell anything about the voice other than that it was male.
"Tell me why."
"Why should I tell you?"
"I tried to help you cops out, for all the good it did. Maybe I can still do something right." The bitterness was clear despite the whisper. "But I gotta know this first before I keep talking to you."
Lassiter blinked in confusion. What the hell does that mean? Is this the guy who called in the tip? Why does he want to talk to me about this? I'm not even on the case anymore. He frowned and decided to keep the man talking. It might be important to the case, so he could at least be a part of it in this small way. He shrugged helplessly and said, "I had no choice."
"That's bullshit."
"He wouldn't put the gun down!" bellowed Lassiter into the phone, unable to contain his anger.
There was silence on the other end and he thought for a second the call had been ended, but then he heard a soft breath, like a sigh. "Did you let him try?" Anguish was clear in the whispered voice.
Lassiter drew in a shaky breath, fighting back the memory. "I begged him," he said soberly. "He was too jumpy, wound up on something."
"He was high," said the voice in a barely audible whisper.
"I almost put my own gun down to get him to surrender," said Lassiter, remembering the urge to do so. He knew he never would have actually lowered his weapon, but this guy didn't need to know that. "But it wouldn't have worked."
"No," the voice agreed.
"I had no choice," said Lassiter sadly, rubbing at his aching forehead. "He shot at my partner. He gave me no choice."
The call went dead. Lassiter tossed the phone down and leaned his elbows on the counter so he could rest his head in his hands. The mysterious calls certainly weren't helping his stress levels. He stood up with his hands on top of his head and turned towards the living room, but after a step he turned back and retrieved the phone, just in case. The caller had to be the guy who had phoned in the tip on the robbery. But how else was he connected? He had to know Riley and Braden North, and Justin, somehow. He sounded too emotionally invested in the shooting not to be closely involved with them. Maybe it was an accomplice who was having second-thoughts? Or could the caller even be the brother, Braden? The idea sent a shiver down Lassiter's spine. It seemed like a crazy idea, but something about it also felt right. He growled with frustration then, thinking that nothing seemed right lately, so how could he trust the wild ideas in his head. Lassiter sighed and decided he'd have to tell Juliet about the calls later when she brought dinner. She'd help him sort out the possibilities with a clearer head, and then they could arrange to trace any more calls he received. In the meantime, he just wanted to lie down again. He wasn't sure if he could sleep, but at least his body could get some rest even if his mind wouldn't.
oOoOoOoOoO
It was after 5PM and Juliet was rubbing at her sore neck and trying to stretch her back. She'd been going over all of the files on the home invasions once more, trying to find out how Riley North and his sons were connected to the crimes. They needed a clue that would lead them to Riley and Braden. Shawn and Gus had left three hours earlier to speak with Mrs. North again and to do some other legwork. Juliet had called Lassiter a couple of hours after their talk in the parking lot, ostensibly to set a time for when she'd come over and to ask what dinner he wanted her to bring, but she'd also called to just check on him. He'd sensed that, apparently, and had snapped at her not to make a habit of calling him all day long like he was some latch-key kid who needed supervising. His tirade had left her feeling somewhat better, actually, because it was more like his normal, cranky behavior. The jumpiness and gloom and irritability he'd exhibited since the shooting worried her, reminding her too much of accounts of PTSD that her brother had mentioned some of his Army friends suffering. She didn't think it was that serious, but she didn't want it to have a chance to get to that point, either.
As she was flipping the last file on her desk closed, someone approached. She looked up to find the computer tech, Lisa Michaelson, standing in front of her looking slightly nervous. She was the woman Lassiter had gone out with the prior week.
"Lisa! Hi, how are you?" asked Juliet brightly while wondering what she could want. She got the sudden fear that Lisa wanted to say that she didn't want to see Lassiter again, or something along those lines, and that she'd want her to pass on the bad news. She kept her smile fixed and hoped that wasn't the case.
"Hi, Juliet. I'm doing fine," she said with a small smile. "This is going to sound silly, maybe, but I just wanted to ask you how Carlton is doing."
"Oh, he's okay," she said. "Please sit down." Juliet studied her for a moment. Lisa was tall, and of a medium build, not heavy but not particularly thin. She was attractive in a way that fell more on the athletic end of the scale as opposed to the ultra-feminine. She had long auburn hair that was usually, as now, pulled back into a ponytail.
"Is he, really?" asked Lisa, as if she could tell Juliet was offering a platitude.
Juliet sighed and conceded, "It's been a little hard on him."
Lisa nodded. "I'm sure it has. I told you my uncle was a detective in Chicago. I remember he was involved in a similar situation years ago," she said, then she trailed off.
"Was he okay, afterwards?" asked Juliet.
Lisa hesitated. "Yes, although I do think some of the effects never quite went away." She gave Juliet an almost apologetic look. "And anyway, it wasn't exactly the same."
Juliet nodded. "I understand. I think Carlton's going to be fine, he just needs a few days for everything to settle."
"Sure, that's what I figured," said Lisa, fidgeting slightly in her chair. "And that's kind of what I wanted to ask you about. Do you think now would be a really bad time to go out with him again, just on a really casual, laid-back date? Or do you think that maybe, you know, the distraction could be a good thing?"
Juliet blinked with surprise. "Oh! Um..."
"Just tell me if the whole idea is insane. I don't want to make things worse."
"No!" said Juliet quickly, not wanting to discourage Lisa's interest. "I don't think the idea is insane at all." She furrowed her brow and considered the notion, but she wasn't sure about it either. "I'm actually going to be having dinner with him soon. Do you want me to just ask him?"
Lisa let out a quick laugh and grinned wryly. "Oh, sure, why not? If you don't think it's too much like high school, passing messages through friends?"
Juliet laughed too. "If it works, it works."
Lisa's expression sobered again. "Well, thank you. I just want to help, if I can. And I wanted to see him again, because I got the sense that maybe our conversation had put him off last week. It was just a silly thing to be talking about...oh, nevermind, now I'm rambling."
"Actually, he told me a little bit about your date," said Juliet.
"He did? How cute is that?" said Lisa wryly, but with warmth.
"Yes, and he was actually worried that you were put off about the conversation."
"Oh, no, not at all! I can just get a little carried away sometimes, on certain topics. I actually had a really nice time. You can tell him that," said Lisa with a grin.
"Well, then I will. I think he'll be happy to hear it. I do believe he mentioned that he had a nice time, too."
Lisa's grin grew into a sincere smile and Juliet thought she was even blushing slightly. "Great! Well, I've taken up enough of your time. Tell Carlton I said hello, and...just let me know." She stood up and gave Juliet a small wave as she turned to go.
"Okay, Lisa. I'll see you later," said Juliet.
Juliet hoped Lassiter would consider going out with Lisa again. It could be just the thing to help him stop dwelling on the shooting. She looked back at her desk, intending to write down some notes, but several minutes later she realized she'd just been staring into space. She decided that it was time to grab dinner.
oOoOoOoO
A half hour or so later, she was leaving the small Italian restaurant with a large bag of takeout that wafted deliciously. Her stomach growled. She hoped it wouldn't get too cold before she could get to Lassiter's apartment. As she buckled into her car, though, her cell phone rang, showing Shawn's number.
"Hi Shawn, what's up?" she asked with a sinking feeling about her dinner plans.
"Jules! Breakthrough! We're at the station. Can you come back?"
"Is it important? I just picked up dinner."
"Great! Bring it along. I'm starving," said Shawn. She could hear Gus in the background asking what kind of food it was.
"No, Shawn, this is the dinner I was going to take over to Lassiter," said Jules.
"But we've got an address!" cried Shawn.
Juliet blinked as her jaw dropped. "What?"
"Well, we've got a phone number, which you can get the address for, right? So that means I figured out where Riley North is," said Shawn with a hint of pride in his voice. "You need to get back here!"
Juliet shook her head with awe. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed. She put the car in gear and started driving back to the station. She'd have to figure out a way to get the food to Lassiter after she got there. "I'm on my way now."
"Sweet! See you soon," he said and hung up.
Juliet punched in Lassiter's number and listened as it rang several times, just getting to the point of concern when he finally answered.
"Hello," he said, sounding strangely wary, as if he was dreading her call.
"Carlton, it's Juliet. Were you sleeping?" she asked.
"Oh. No, I wasn't," he said with audible relief.
"Well, unfortunately I have to change our plans. I just picked up dinner, but I've been called back to the station," she said, omitting the part about Shawn being the one who had called her back. "I'm going to have to find someone there to bring this food to you instead."
"Sure, no problem," he said, almost hiding the disappointment in his voice.
She knew how much he hated not being involved in the case. Maybe, by some miracle, the IA investigation would clear him by the next day. But then he'd still need to clear a psych eval, she remembered. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Carlton. I'm not even sure yet what they've got, so maybe I can make it over later."
"Yeah, I was, um..." he trailed off.
"What?" she asked, getting the sense that he was about to tell her something.
"Nothing. I'll tell you about it later. Just get to work, O'Hara," he said, forcing his usual stern tone. She appreciated the effort.
"I'll talk to you soon, and I'll send this food right over. It smells so good it's killing me."
There was a pause on the other end, then he just said, "Thank you."
"Bye, Carlton," she said, but she could hear that he'd already ended the call.
She shook her head and hoped that whatever Shawn had found turned out to be a solid lead. If it was some kind of nonsense, she might have to throw him in the holding cells for the night. The thought made her smile when she realized how Lassiter-like it was. Shawn had sounded confident, though. She felt a thrill of anticipation at the idea that they were starting to crack the case.
Ten minutes later, Juliet rushed into the station carrying the food. She noticed Shawn and Gus spreading out files on her desk and walked over to Lassiter's desk to put the bag down, holding up a warning hand when she saw Gus eyeballing it eagerly. She shook her head at him which resulted in a sad-puppy expression. She shook her head again in amused exasperation. She'd never known two people so fixated on food.
"Just a minute, guys. I'll be right there."
She looked around for McNab or any officer who didn't seem to be occupied, and then her eyes fell on Lisa Michaelson who was apparently just leaving the station for the day. She felt a thrill of inspiration.
"Lisa!" she called excitedly.
Lisa looked at her, and then looked around as if she thought Juliet might be talking to someone else. "Hi, Juliet. What's up?" She walked over to the desk.
"I need a really big favor," began Juliet. "I was supposed to take this food over to Carlton tonight, but something came up with the case."
Lisa's eyebrows raised and her expression turned uncertain, as if she was guessing what Juliet was going to ask next.
"Do you think you could drop it off for me?" asked Juliet.
Lisa's eyebrows seemed to raise even higher. "Oh! Um, I guess...do you think I should?"
"Yes! I mean, I didn't get a chance to talk to him yet, of course, about what we talked about," said Juliet. "But it smells so good that I'd hate for it to go to waste, and I'm sure he hasn't eaten."
"Well, sure, then. Why not?" said Lisa, smiling through her obvious surprise.
"Great! I'm sorry to spring this on you, but when I saw you leaving, it just seemed like good timing," said Juliet, but then she felt a sudden uncertainty. She didn't want Lisa to feel pressured. "I mean, if you want to. Do you really want to? Because I can find someone else..."
"No, really. It's a good idea. It makes sense. I was just heading home to a lonely dinner anyway. I'd love to help out," she said with a sincere smile.
"That's great, really, thank you so much," said Juliet, feeling a sense of relief and excitement at the same time. Hopefully Lassiter wouldn't be too shocked. She didn't think he would be rude if Lisa showed up unannounced, but she wasn't positive either. Maybe she'd call him really quick first, to give him at least a little warning. Now that the crazy, spontaneous idea seemed to be in motion she wanted it to work out for the best.
Lisa's brow furrowed. "Just one thing," she said. "Where does he live?"
"Oh! Right," said Juliet, spinning around to scribble down Lassiter's address. "Here you go. Can you find it?"
Lisa looked at the address and nodded. "Sure, I know this area. I'll find it," she said as she picked up the bag of food. She gave Juliet a small wave as she turned for the doors. "Wish me luck!"
"Oh, you won't need luck. Just have a nice time!"
Juliet turned to her desk, feeling a glow of accomplishment. She saw Shawn and Gus watching Lisa leave with expressions of longing that Juliet knew full well were due to the exit of the food. She rolled her eyes and pulled out her cell phone to call Lassiter.
"Aren't you out on the case?" said Lassiter grumpily in lieu of a polite answer to her call. "Why are you calling already?"
She grimaced. "Carlton, I wanted to tell you that Lisa is coming over with the food."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line.
"I wanted to warn you so that you wouldn't be surprised and rude to her," she said pointedly, feeling justified in making the call.
"Lisa?"
"Yes, Lisa. She was just leaving the station for the night, so I thought it was a good idea for her to be the one to bring your dinner."
"Why in the world would you think that?" he yelled, initial shock giving away to outrage.
"Carlton, I spoke with her earlier today. She asked me about seeing you again. She really wanted to, and when I was called back here and she was leaving, it was just perfect timing for her to be the one to bring you the food."
More stunned silence.
"Just go brush your hair and pick up a little, she's going to be there soon," admonished Juliet.
"Jesus, O'Hara," he said, recovering from his shock and outrage at her audacity enough to start sounding a little panicked at the thought of Lisa's imminent visit. "We're going to have a talk about this later, dammit." There was a pause and then his voice turned more calculating. "This place isn't too messy...I gotta go." The line went dead.
Juliet laughed and shook her head. She looked over to see Shawn and Gus staring at her like she'd sprouted eye stalks. Shawn said, "That was quite possibly the most disturbing thing I've ever witnessed." Gus, looking like he'd just sniffed something foul-smelling, nodded his agreement.
"Oh, zip it," said Juliet as she walked over to join them. "Now what did you two find?"
Shawn waved dramatically at the papers strewn across her desk. "Phone records!" he said proudly.
Juliet recognized the phone records for the homes that had been robbed. They hadn't found any common numbers in their investigation, but they had only looked for numbers relating to construction or real estate. She knew Shawn had identified something, though, and nodded encouragingly. "And?"
"And there's one phone number that appears on all of these records."
"Which one?"
"Here," said Shawn, pointing to a number that they had marked with highlighter. It was just a general number and didn't have any business identification attached to it.
She blinked. "Wow. What's the number for?"
"This," said Shawn proudly, holding up a flier that was ripped at the corners, as if he had pulled it off of a bulletin board.
Juliet took the paper from him. It was a handwritten flier that had been photocopied, and it said "RENOVATING? Need repairs? Let us help you find the best deals! We know contractors and we can match you with the ones that fit your needs. LOWEST PRICES GUARANTEED!" The phone number was listed, and then there were tear-off tabs cut into the bottom of the page with the number as well.
"Okay...what does this have to do with Riley North?"
Shawn pointed at the paper. "That IS Riley North. It's his scam. I talked to Gina...Mrs. North...earlier and she gave me some information about Riley and her sons. She said he was a con man but had no patience to see a con through, which made me think of get-rich-quick type scams, which made me think of house-flipping scams because all of the houses were being renovated." Shawn paused then, and put his hand to his temple. "That's when I got the vibes. Well, it was when Gus and I were walking past a bulletin board at the mall after refueling with some delicious fruit smoothies."
Juliet crossed her arms and tilted her head, waiting for Shawn to get on with it. Sometimes he could put just a bit too much detail into recounting his discoveries.
"Yeah," said Gus grimacing. "He vibed his face right into that flier. Scared a couple of old ladies walking past."
"Gus told them I was having a Cesarean."
"Seizure, Shawn! Seizure!"
"Exactly. Anyway, the spirits told me that flier had something to do with the burglaries, and when we came here to check, we found that phone number on all of the records. Riley North got their information, put them in contact with contractors, and then he kept track of their schedules in order to know when he could break into the houses. And his trail was hard to find because it was so low-tech. All of the owners wanted to renovate as cheaply as possible and found a crappy bulletin board offer too good to pass up."
"And it was too good to be true. That's why they say what they say," said Gus smugly.
"What do they say?" asked Shawn.
"That it's too good to be true."
"But what if it was true? Maybe he really did get good contractor deals for those people."
"But then he robbed their homes," said Gus.
"He still got good deals with the contractors!"
"Shawn!"
Juliet smiled and shook her head at the two friends. "Great work guys!"
She walked over to knock on the chief's door. It was time to get a search warrant. If they could close the case, she was sure it would speed up her partner's reinstatement. That way, he could get back to himself and things could get back to normal.
oOoOoOoO
Lassiter buttoned his shirt and reached for a tie. Then he thought better of it and unbuttoned the top button of the shirt again. He looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. He had no idea how to dress for a "date" at his own house when he was on suspension from work, no less. He silently cursed his partner again as he grabbed his suit coat. Coat with no tie? Coat and tie? No coat and no tie? He growled and tossed the coat and tie back onto his bed, stalking out of the room to check the rest of the apartment again. He spent so much time at work that clutter was rarely a problem for him. He'd put away whatever various things had built up over the last couple of crazy days, and the place looked good enough. He hoped. He realized with a small thrill of fearful anticipation that this was really happening and Lisa was going to be over any minute. He also realized with a sense of awe that he had actually forgotten about the shooting for several minutes in a row during his initial panic, cleaning, and re-dressing spree. Silently thanking his partner, he walked into the kitchen area to make sure everything was in order and that the garbage didn't smell too bad.
The doorbell rang and his heart yo-yoed to his stomach and back again. He brushed at his hair absently and cleared his throat as he walked to the door. When he opened it, he saw Lisa with her head lowered as she fidgeted with straightening her shirt. She looked up quickly and gave him a half-amused, half-embarrassed smile.
"Hi, Carlton," she said warmly.
He cleared his throat again and tried to smile, hoping it didn't look too much like a grimace. The whole situation just seemed so odd, but he had to admit that it wasn't really in a bad way. "Hi, Lisa. Um, come on in," he said as he stood aside and held the door open for her to enter.
"Thanks."
Lassiter glanced out at the street as she walked past him and noticed a dented and dirty late-model Buick parked on the other side of the road and down a few houses. He wondered for a moment if it could be Lisa's car, but then he saw a Toyota parked in front of his place, figuring that was more her style. His brain registered the details of the Buick and shelved the information under "possible visitors for neighbors down the street" as he turned to follow Lisa into the apartment. He promptly forgot the car as he started to think desperately about what to say next to the woman in his kitchen.
An hour later, they were sitting on opposite ends of the couch finishing off the bottle of wine that Lisa had picked up on her way over. The wine had created a pleasant glow in Lassiter's chest, and he'd loosened up enough to feel almost playful.
"But seriously, Thought Police?" he asked with mock indignation. They had been reviewing the conversation from their prior date, much to Lisa's dismay, and he couldn't help getting another dig in. She was playing along happily.
"No! I just meant that the Thought Police would like the same things you like, not that you were the Thought Police. There's totally a difference there," she said sarcastically.
"Oh, okay, I get it," he answered with a roll of his eyes. Then he cleared his throat and dropped the teasing tone. "Thank you, Lisa, for bringing the food...and for staying. This has been really nice."
She smiled and blushed slightly, "I should thank you for letting me come over, and I should thank Juliet for sending me. Also, that food was just awesome. She has great taste!"
Lassiter nodded. "Yes, she does," he said with a proud half-smile. "She's a great partner."
"She says the same of you."
A brief flash of uncertainty crossed Lassiter's expression as he tilted his head and stared at a spot on the floor. "I hope so."
"Oh, I know so," said Lisa. "Believe it."
He looked at her again and felt suddenly uncomfortable. "Um, do you want some coffee?"
She looked at her watch. "No, I should probably get going. I have to be at work early tomorrow," she said, then she glanced suddenly at Lassiter with a look of fear, as if she was afraid she'd said something wrong.
He realized she was embarrassed about bringing up the topic of work and tried to don a reassuring expression. "Of course. I like to go in early, too."
She sighed and pursed her lips. "I know we've talked around it tonight, but I did want to ask you how you're doing. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand, but I want you to know that I would be very happy to listen and to help in any way I can."
He swallowed and then took a deep breath. "It's okay. I think I'm going to be fine," he said, realizing that he really meant it. The evening had seemed to unlock the last of the anguish he'd been holding in about the shooting. He knew he'd still have to work through the feelings for a while, but he didn't feel as much like they were locked up and twisting his insides. He gave her a sincere look. "And you've already helped."
She blushed again, which gave him a warm feeling inside, and then she smiled wryly and said, "Well, I'm happy to hear that. And you're right, you are going to be fine. You're a great detective, Carlton, and everyone at the station has a lot of respect for you."
It was his turn to blush as he ducked his head in embarrassment. There was a long, awkward moment of silent tension.
"Okay," she said briskly as she stood up. He looked at her again and saw that her face still seemed flushed. She put her glass down on the coffee table. "I really should go now."
He stood and put his glass down too. He felt a sudden and unexplained spike of what seemed to be fear, although he had no idea why he would feel that way. He decided it was just because he'd had such a nice evening that the subject of the shooting had stirred up the negative thoughts for a moment, and the juxtaposition with the pleasant conversation seemed jarring. Still, his brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to figure out the feeling. Lisa retrieved her purse from the kitchen table as he followed her, head bowed in thought. She turned to face him near the door and gazed at him for a moment.
"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing his sudden change in mood.
He blinked. "Yeah," he said, mentally shaking himself out of the weird, sudden funk. "I'm fine. So, um, thanks again for coming over. We should, you know, do this again sometime."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, and soon, if you don't mind," she said, eyes twinkling.
He returned the smile and said, "Absolutely."
There was another awkward moment of tension as they both seemed to suddenly contemplate the idea of a hug or other such contact. Their eyes met, mirrors of uncertain discomfort, and then Lisa laughed and shook her head as she leaned in to give him a quick hug. She moved so quickly that he ended up just standing through her embrace with his arms out, failing to return it and then feeling somewhat foolish when she broke the connection before he could reciprocate.
"Good night, Carlton. Try to get some rest."
"Sure," he said with a shy smile. "You too."
He leaned over to open the door for her and held it open as she walked out. After she went down the steps she turned one last time and gave him a smile and a wave. He raised his hand in return and stepped back into his house. As he turned he caught sight of the junky Buick again, but his thoughts were focused on the strange mixture of warmth and cold that seemed to be waging a battle in his chest. He was happy and anxious at the same time, and the clash of feelings nagged at him like a forgotten task.
He picked up the dinner plates and put them on the counter, then he walked into the living room to retrieve the wine glasses. His thoughts drifted aimlessly. He tried to care about identifying the nagging feeling but mostly he was just enjoying the memories of the evening. Lisa was someone he could talk to easily, and even though it was still early, he really thought she was someone he could have a relationship with. He hadn't felt that way about anyone in years, and the feeling was almost alien to him, but in a wonderful way.
His phone rang. He stopped in his tracks and twisted to look at the cell phone on the coffee table. For some reason, all of his senses seemed to snap into high gear, and as the second ring sounded out, he heard the noise of a revved engine and tires screeching outside. His heart started to race disconcertingly. As the third ring started, he shoved the wine glasses onto the kitchen table and ran towards the phone. He picked it up and pushed the talk button, feeling an incongruous rush of fear.
"Hello."
"Is this your house? Oh my god, he said we were just casing another target. This is your house?" The voice was no longer whispered, but it was in a high-pitched panic.
"Who are you? Is this Braden North?" asked Lassiter, following his hunch. He felt the boy's panic as if it was contagious, and his fear was suddenly real. "Are you outside my apartment?"
"He took her! You have to help her! I didn't know what he was doing! Oh my god, you have to stop him!"
Lassiter's heart literally stopped beating, he was sure of it. His eyes flew to the door as if he could see through the wood and the stone of the wall. He remembered the sound of screeching tires and was running for the door before he was even conscious of moving. He pulled it open violently, but before he ran out he turned and dove for the nearest kitchen drawer, retrieving one of his guns from it and grabbing his car keys from the counter. He rushed outside and down the steps, scanning the road desperately. The old Buick was still parked across the street. Lisa's Toyota was gone, but when he peered down to the farthest point of his road, he could see taillights glowing in the darkness as a car took a right turn at the adjoining street and disappeared. Lassiter turned to his car and saw that his tires were flat. All of them. He turned back to the road and started to run. He tucked the gun into his waistband and pulled out the phone that he didn't remember stuffing into his pocket. He dialed the station as he ran. He gasped out his location and situation, saying that a woman had been carjacked. The dispatcher seemed to catch the contagious panic and reassured him after a moment that units were in the area and were on the way. Lassiter was unaware of stuffing the phone into his pocket again as he ran.
His racing mind seemed to exist on two levels, one of sheer focus as his vision tunneled to the end of the road and everything else around him disappeared, and the other of detached, horrified observation, as if he was a spectator watching himself in a movie while screaming uselessly at the screen. This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening. He didn't feel his lungs burning when he reached the end of the road. He took the right turn at full speed and stumbled, falling to his knees and catching himself on the palms of his hands. He thought he heard a faint popping noise and didn't hear himself chanting a mantra of "No, no, no, no." He lunged to his feet and kept running, the narrow scope of his vision widening as he scanned the street for any cars. None were in sight. It was just a quiet evening in a residential area. He didn't hear the sobbing gasp of frustration that he released then. He just kept running. At the next intersection he paused and looked both ways, but there were only parked cars that weren't Toyotas. He heard a siren up ahead and a squeal of brakes. He could see reflections of the red and blue flashes at the next street. He ran.
When he rounded the next corner, he saw the Toyota stopped at an angle in the middle of the residential street with both doors open. He saw a squad car pulled up at an angle in front of the Toyota. He saw Buzz McNab standing at the driver's door of the Toyota, with one hand over his mouth as he pulled his other hand back from within the car. He didn't hear the strangled roar he let loose as he ran. Buzz stood up and saw him coming, eyes widening in fear or panic or concern or something else that Lassiter couldn't make himself care about. He just had to get to the car. He didn't want to, and he had to. As he got closer, he staggered to a walk, lungs scorching and legs spent, but he didn't feel them. The tunnel was back, and it was focused on the form he could now see in the car, backlit by red and blue flashes. She was leaning over slightly, head bowed. He kept walking, but suddenly a blue wall blocked his path.
"Please, Detective Lassiter, don't," said Buzz, moving in front of him and holding his hands out to his sides. His voice was pleading but his physical presence was unyielding.
Lassiter put a hand on Buzz's chest and tried to push him backwards out of the way, but to no avail. He kept looking through the officer, the image of her form in the car the only image registering in his brain. He put both hands on Buzz's chest and pushed harder. He didn't hear himself saying, "Move! Move!"
"No!" said Buzz desperately, grabbing Lassiter's upper arms and countering his insistent push. "She's gone, detective."
Lassiter's crazed stare broke and he focused fully on Buzz's anguished face, eyes blazing. He didn't notice two more units pull up and the other officers jump out to join the scene. He grabbed the front of Buzz's shirt in his fists and tried to shake the larger man. "Get out of my way!" he screamed hoarsely.
"Please," said Buzz, still holding his upper arms.
Lassiter jerked backwards, freeing his arms from Buzz's grip. He moved towards the car and when Buzz tried to block his path again he threw a punch that caught the junior officer a glancing blow on his jaw as he ducked away from the worst of the swing. He was grabbed from behind and tried to twist out of the other officer's grip, only conscious of his need to get to her car.
"No, no," said Buzz sadly, eyes shining brightly in the flashing lights. He held a hand to his jaw while waving his other hand at the officer. "Just let him go."
Lassiter's gaze was focused solely on the car as he strained to approach. When he was released, he stepped up next to the open driver's door and felt himself stop breathing. He saw her hands limp at her sides. He saw her head bowed as if she'd fallen asleep. He saw the hole in the side of her chest and the red stain. His fingers twitched as if he was feeling the sticky blood on them again, the kid's blood covering his hands, and now her blood too. He could swear the ground cracked under his feet. He felt it fall away into the abyss as he stood still and stared.