Critical Pursuit (11 page)

BRINNA SNEEZED
as the harsh smell of burnt oil from the wrecked car tickled her nose. She carefully observed and recorded the damage, trying to keep her mind off the uneasy feeling rumbling through her like an earthquake aftershock.

When the 10-8-51 had crashed, Jack had jumped out of the car as if he’d been ejected. A thought had occurred to her as she watched him sprint to the victor.
He wants to die.

She shivered in spite of the warm night.
I could be wrong,
she told herself.
He finally showed some life and I’m jumping to conclusions. But rushing up on a stolen car before it’s been cleared?

The arrival of the tow truck interrupted her train of thought. She embraced the distraction, not liking the direction her thoughts were taking her. She was familiar with suicide
by
cop. But the idea of a cop committing suicide was too right rudder for Brinna. She knew it happened too often, even knew one old-timer who’d hanged himself. But if that was why Jack had returned to patrol
 
—to get himself killed
 
—she’d do her best to stop him.

Brinna chatted with the tow truck driver about different calls she’d heard going out while waiting for him. He regaled her with a story about an overturned vehicle on the freeway he’d had to right when he’d first come to work. Brinna was almost sorry to see him finish hooking up the victor and leave.

A glance at the black-and-white told her Jack wasn’t sleeping. He was wide awake and staring into the darkness.

Not knowing what to say, Brinna said nothing.
How do you front a guy off if you think he’s suicidal?
she wondered.
I was prepared for lazy or indifferent, but not this.

She directed the car to the North Division Substation to call auto stats with the stolen vehicle information. Jack came into the substation with her and went to the restroom.

After Brinna made her call, she went outside and waited for him, deciding she’d have to confront him whether she knew the right words or not.

She leaned against the patrol car, arms folded. The north substation was situated on the corner of a large city park. She heard crickets singing in the park, and from time to time a lone car drove down Atlantic Avenue.

As Jack walked across the parkway toward their patrol car, Brinna straightened. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“What?” Jack asked.

“The way you ran to that victor before it was secured. He could have had a gun.”

“I thought he was going to run. I was ready for a foot pursuit.” He turned away and stepped forward to open the car door.

“I hope that’s all it was.” Brinna walked around to her door and glared at Jack across the roof. “Just remember, we’re partners whether either one of us likes it or not. You get hurt, it puts me in danger. And vice versa.”

Jack stared at her for a minute. Brinna expected a denial, a curse, anything. He said nothing, just jerked the car door open and sat down.

Gazing out at the dark, quiet park, Brinna took a deep breath and tried to ignore what her instincts were telling her.

I’m working with a partner who may have a death wish.

SAVE FOR THE OCCASIONAL
crackle of the radio and the squeak of leather when one of them shifted in their seat, silence bathed the unit. Brinna kept her gaze roving the empty city streets and ignored her partner. He simply stared out the passenger window while she drove through dark neighborhoods. Brinna decided to take advantage of the lull and stop at a 7-Eleven for coffee.

“Hey, Officer Caruso, how are you tonight?” Vu, the night counterman, greeted Brinna.

“Good, Vu. How’s business?”

“Slow tonight. Where’s Officer Hero?” He pulled some dog bones from under the counter and shook the box. “I have his favorite treats.”

Brinna and Hero had helped catch a man who’d robbed Vu’s store a few months before. Ever since then, Vu treated Hero like a prize show dog every time he walked into the store.

“I’m working with a human partner tonight. Hero’s home sleeping.”

“Oh.” Vu sounded genuinely heartbroken. “I love that dog. I hear he found a little boy a couple weeks ago. You take some treats home to him for me?” Vu poured some treats into a plastic Baggie and held it out for Brinna.

“Sure.” Brinna smiled and took the bag. “I love to spoil the dog and he knows it.”

“Brinna.”

She turned. Jack was at the door, frowning.

“Yeah?”

“An urgent 10-21 for you just popped up on the computer. You’re supposed to call Chuck Weldon ASAP.”

Brinna blew out a breath and tossed her coffee, fearing the worst.
Chuck found Heather.

“Thanks for the bones, Vu.” She grabbed the package and headed out the door.

“Thank you, Officer Caruso. Be careful.”

Brinna dug her cell phone out of her kit and punched in Chuck’s number. She strolled with the phone to the edge of the 7-Eleven parking lot as it rang.

When Chuck ignored all pleasantries, Brinna braced for what she knew was coming.

“Brinna, how quick can you get down to the Crystal Cove mountain bike trail?”

“In Orange County, off PCH?”

“That’s the place. I’ll meet you at the trailhead and lead you up to what we’ve found. Of course, it will take dental records for a positive ID, but we’re sure it’s her. Heather Bailey.”

“Heather?” Brinna’s heart seemed to stop. She closed
her eyes and fought for composure, the image of Heather’s haunted mother in her mind.
It’s time for a cop face. Milo would say to never let emotion cloud your judgment. I need a Kevlar heart right now.
She pressed the reassuring stiffness of her vest with her palm. Cops with Kevlar hearts were the most effective because nothing could hurt them and nothing would distract them from the job they have to do, Milo said often.

“Chuck, I, uh . . . We’re just about EOW. I’ll have to get approval to leave the city. And Scranton will probably have a coronary.”

“Don’t worry about Scranton. I already cleared it with the watch commander. I called him first.”

“Well, then, give me thirty minutes.” Brinna flipped the phone shut and stared across the intersection. The Don’t Walk sign blinked red. Traffic signals never got a break; they were always on duty, 24-7.

So were the busy perverts who preyed on children
 
—always on duty, 24-7.

She rubbed her face and checked the time on her phone. It was close to 2 a.m. She wondered if Chuck had already sent someone over to tell Heather’s family. No, he’d wait for a positive ID.

She remembered coming home that day, twenty years ago, after doctors had examined her and given her a clean bill of health. Her mom was very sad. She cried for hours on end and her dad just seemed mad. Later, she remembered him being drunk and mad, all the time. Life was never the same. What would happen to the Baileys with the knowledge that Heather wouldn’t come home?

“Caruso.” Jack’s voice cut into Brinna’s woolgathering.

“Yeah.” She turned, faced him, and buried the memories. “What’s up?”

“What’s up with you? What was the phone call about? Bad news?”

“Yep, very bad. Chuck wants me in Orange County. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with you.”

O’Reilly’s face reddened. “I’m not a kid you’re babysitting. What’s in Orange County?”

Brinna bit her tongue and walked past him to the car. “Hold on,” she began when Jack joined her at the black-and-white. “I’m not trying to treat you like a kid. It’s just that the FBI called. They found one of my, uh . . . one of the local missing kids, the one whose house I visited earlier. They want me out there for some reason.” She shrugged. “Normally I have Hero and he goes with me no matter what. I’m not sure what you want to do.”

“We’re partners. What would I do if I stayed here? Work the front desk?” Jack drummed his fingers on the roof of the black-and-white.

“I guess you’re right. Let’s go.” Blowing out a breath, Brinna climbed into the driver’s seat.

She didn’t want to deal with O’Reilly
and
a dead kid. The car was silent as she drove through North Long Beach south to Pacific Coast Highway and turned left toward Orange County.

Jack didn’t speak until they crossed from Long Beach into Seal Beach. “So it’s true: the FBI clues you in on missing cases?”

Brinna glanced his way, trying to determine if he mocked her. A blank expression greeted her. “Yes, after Hero and I found Alonso Parker last year, I convinced the department it was a good risk to let us work on missing cases.”

“And the kid who lived in North Long Beach has been found?”

Brinna nodded. “Heather Bailey.”

“Where’d they find her?”

“Crystal Cove, the bike trail.”

“Any suspects in custody?”

“Nope, and no solid leads. No one saw anything the day she disappeared. She just vanished from her front yard.” Brinna shook her head. At least Hero never asked any questions.
Shut up, O’Reilly. I just want to get to Heather.

As if reading her thoughts, Jack stayed silent for the remainder of the trip. Brinna found her mind wandering to her mother.
My mom prayed so many times for Heather to be found alive. It hurts that she trusts so much in something that never seems to work.

“Believe only in what you can see,”
the old Milo would say.
“When someone breaks the law, the best, most satisfying remedy is to see him or her pay for it.”

That’s what Brinna would tell her mother she believed. Punishing the puke was way more useful than praying to an empty sky.

“OFFICER CARUSO,
good to see you again. Sorry the circumstances aren’t more pleasant.” Chuck Weldon met Brinna and Jack in the parking lot at the trailhead for the Crystal Cove bike trail.

The lot was awash in light from four portable floodlights. Two government plain cars and two vehicles belonging to the Orange County Sheriff’s Department bracketed a black panel truck Brinna recognized as the OCSD’s mobile communications center. Four deputy sheriffs stood off to one side of the lot, smoking and chatting. Brinna knew they were probably wondering about jurisdictional considerations. Chuck would have the final say there.

A stereotypical FBI agent, Chuck stood about six-one and wore his dark hair cut to regulation with a just-as-regulation mustache. His eyes were sharp and quick and his expression rarely, if ever, gave away his thoughts. Tonight he wore agency casual, dark slacks and a light-colored polo shirt, service handgun neatly tucked into a belt holster.

Brinna introduced Jack.

“I’d heard you got a new partner,” Chuck said as he shook Jack’s hand.

“Long story,” Jack said, casting a glance Brinna’s way.

Brinna nodded toward the trail. “What have you got, Chuck? I assume you found Heather up there.”

“Yeah, and something even more disturbing.”

“It’s well after midnight. How’d you find her in the dark?” Jack asked.

Brinna did a double take. He was right. She hadn’t even considered that. She’d just been consumed with grief that she’d lost one. How in the world
did
they find the eight-year-old this time of the night?

Chuck handed Brinna a piece of paper. “That’s a copy of something that came into the office late this afternoon.”

Brinna studied the paper. It was a hand-drawn map of the area, arrows leading up the bike path, and off to the side a bit, the paper was marked with a red
X
.

Jack read over her shoulder. “A map to the body?”

“Yep. It passed through many hands before we realized it wasn’t a hoax and we were probably dealing with the killer. That’s why we got out here so late. Although, at least at this time of night we know there won’t be any looky-loos or press. We climbed up and found the body about two hours ago. Everything has been photographed and combed for evidence, but the coroner’s been delayed. Might as well check things out before we bring her down.”

Brows furrowed, Brinna handed the paper to Jack and faced Chuck. “Why? I mean, I’m glad you called me out
and everything, but what can I tell you about the body your forensic team can’t?”

“Let’s get in the Jeep and I’ll show you.” Chuck held his hand out toward the Jeep. Brinna climbed into the passenger seat, Jack hopped in the back, and Chuck took the driver’s seat.

“The Jeep will take us most of the way; then it’s about a ten-minute hike to the body.” Chuck started the ignition and directed the Jeep up the trail.

Brinna held on as the Jeep bounced along. After about ten minutes a glow of light was visible off to the right. She assumed it to be illumination provided by the FBI forensic team. She frowned into the darkness and wondered what the end of the path would bring.

It wasn’t much longer and Chuck pulled off to the right of the trail and parked. Two other Jeeps were already parked there.

“You guys have your flashlights?” Chuck asked. Brinna and Jack nodded. “Let’s go.” He hopped out of the vehicle and clicked his own light on. Brinna and Jack followed him along the path.

It was a narrow deer trail, almost overgrown in spots. Dry brush grabbed at their clothing. The night was warm and humid, the sound of the surf audible in the distance.

Brinna kept her eyes on the ground to keep from tripping and to avoid ripping her wool pants. Her cotton K-9 coveralls would be much better suited to this hike. True to Chuck’s word, it took about ten minutes to reach the well-lit clearing where the forensic team waited.

Chuck directed his light to the left. Brinna followed the bright stream, bracing herself for a small, sad body. What she saw was hard to imagine as a lively eight-year-old girl. A month in the wilderness in scorching heat had done its work; plus the presence of animals was evident. Blonde hair and bones, some clothing and some flesh, were testimony that a body was there, but it was the sign that took Brinna’s breath away.

Above the skull, on a two-by-two-foot wooden sign with bloodred block printing, Brinna read:

OFFICER CARUSO,

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

THE FIRST OF MANY PRESENTS.