Miles to Go Read online

  “Go ahead and get it all out, honey.” Delta heard Connie’s soothing voice before heaving a fourth time. Standing behind her, Connie held holding Delta’s hair back and pressed a cool towel behind her neck.

  After the last empty lurch toward the water, Delta rested the side of her forehead against the toilet seat, spent, dry, and exhausted. She wan’t even sure she had it in her to raise her head. Licking her lips, Delta swallowed back the burning sensation stinging her throat.

  “Not Miles,” she said hoarsely. “Not my partner.”

  Sitting next to her on the floor, Connie put her arms around Delta’s jerking shoulders and pulled her closer.

  “Oh God, Connie, it was . . . it was so . . . awful. He . . .”

  “Shh,” Connie whispered, stroking Delta’s hair and rocking her. “Take deep breaths and try to relax.”

  Drawing in jerking breaths, Delta tried to get a hold of herself. It was so difficult being real, when reality seemed to distort itself right in front of her face. Even Connie’s presence didn’t feel right.

  “Come on, hon. Let’s get you out of these clothes.” Connie carefully unbuttoned Delta’s bloody shirt and slipped it off her trembling shoulders. The T-shirt underneath was also stained with Miles’s blood, so Connie pulled that off Delta’s body as well. Like a child, Delta allowed Connie to remove the rest of her clothes as the two women huddled together in the tiny green stall.

  “I’ll get your civvies, okay? They’re just outside the door.” Slowly, gently, Connie untangled herself from Delta and opened the door, grabbing Delta’s jeans and sweatshirt from where she must have placed them just before.

  “You okay to stand?”

  Delta looked up at Connie, as if seeing her for the first time. The switch from a vacuum to a tangible existence slapped her hard in the face. This really was happening. She would not wake up, as she had on a few occasions, to find herself in her own bed, drenched in sweat from some deathly nightmare; from a permanent photograph of some poor victim dancing spastically in her dreams.

  Nodding, Delta stood long enough for Connie to help her slip the jeans on. When she finished, Delta slid back to the floor and leaned against the cold metal side of the stall. She felt a hundred years old. Delta rubbed both hands back and forth across her face.

  Soon, the slow, jerking sobs returned, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. Connie sat cross-legged across from her and laid her hands on Delta’s knees as she rocked back and forth, as though her body tried desperately to comfort itself. For forty minutes, the two women remained in this position with neither saying a word. Finally, after all the tears had poured freely and the realness of the catastrophe settled in for its lifelong stay, Delta tried to speak.

  “I . . . have to . . . to report . . . to . . . the Captain . . .”

  Connie nodded. “He can wait.”

  Delta shook her head. For the moment, her tears had dried, and a new resolution started to move over her. She had to get a grip on herself so she could be of some use in finding his killer. She certainly hadn’t been of any use to Miles. Swallowing hard, forcing the jerking movements and unsynchronized breathing back into the strange netherworld from which it came, Delta let go of her knees and squeezed Connie’s hand.

  “No . . . he can’t. I want to nail the bastard who did . . . this to Miles. You gotta help me . . . get my shit together.” Throwing her arms around Connie, Delta drew her in and hugged her tightly. “It never hurt so much in my life. It was . . . worse than I could ever have imagined.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “He was just laying there.”

  “He was a good cop, Del.”

  Delta suddenly pulled away. “He was a great man, Connie, and deserved better than to die by the hand of a bunch of fucking lowlife scumbags.” Rising unsteadily to her feet, Delta slammed open the door with the heel of her hand and took a step out of the stall before Connie reached out to stop her.

  “You know what you’re heading into, don’t you?”

  Delta swallowed and blinked hard to clear her eyes of the remaining tears. “I’m not doing Miles any good by falling apart at the seams. I’m a cop, goddammit.”

  Connie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. You know this is just the beginning of what will most likely be a very painful and long procedure for you. Give yourself a break here, Storm.”

  Delta did not respond. Even Connie’s pet name for her didn’t warm the hardening ice crystals surrounding her heart.

  “Internal Affairs is going to ask you so many questions, you’ll begin to question whether or not Miles was killed by a shotgun or a pellet pistol.”

  “I know.” Delta’s resolve did not waver.

  Reaching out, Connie lightly held Delta’s arm. “You go storming in there in this condition, and they’ll bury you. Everything you say to them will come under close scrutiny. Think about it.”

  When Delta first came to patrol, and she and Connie hadn’t even met yet, Connie nicknamed her Storm Stevens because of the way Delta often dove headlong into trouble, so great was her excitement for the job.

  “They’ll pick apart every little thing that you and Miles did. At times, it’ll appear as if they’re trying to prove that he simply fucked up.”

  “He didn’t fuck up, Connie! That asshole blew his head off for no damn reason!” Tears she had thought were gone welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. “He didn’t do anything wrong! He—” Suddenly, Delta heard herself and bowed her head. So many emotions collided inside her like pinballs, she didn’t know how to feel. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready.”

  Connie nodded. “No, but I think there’s probably some other pertinent information that you may want to give to Captain Williams now. Do you think you can do that?”

  Slowly raising her head, Delta inhaled deeply. Miles still needed her to be strong. For now, she could build a wall around the hurt and pain to keep it at bay until she had completed her task.

  It was what he would have done. He would have been relentless in his pursuit in bringing down her killer. She had to do that for him now. It felt like the only thing keeping her on her feet.

  Nodding, Delta swallowed hard again. “Will you stay close to me? I swear Connie, this will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  Taking Delta’s face in her hands, Connie shook her head. “I’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve already done that.”

  * * *

  Captain Williams jumped out from behind his large desk and opened the door for Delta. The squad room ceased humming as she made her way from the bathroom to his office. She felt all eyes on her, but if they were sympathetic, she was too numb to notice.

  “Please, St—Delta, have a seat.” The Captain closed the door behind her, then also lowered the blinds to the window facing the squad room. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No, sir.” Delta sat heavily in the chair and stared down at her hands, which she folded neatly in her lap. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and yell and pull at her hair, but she had a job still to do.

  Sitting next to her, and not across the desk as he always had, the Captain placed a large hand on her shoulder. “I know that sorry doesn’t even begin to deal with the pain you’re feeling, but I am sorry. Brookman was a hell of a good cop.”

  Delta’s eyes moved from her still trembling hands and riveted on two beady brown ones looking down at her. A growing anger sprouted within her; anger at Miles, anger at the lack of backup, anger at herself, and anger at this man, who had never taken the time to tell Miles how good he really was.

  “Yes, sir, he was.”

  Captain Williams folded his own hands across his lap. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this? There’s no hurry.”

  “Oh, yes there is. I want them caught and hanged for what they’ve done. And I won’t rest until I see that done.”

  “I’ve got the whole precinct on it already, Stevens. What I need from you is a clear head and as many details as po
ssible. As much as I know you want to, you can’t go off half-cocked looking for Brookman’s killer. We work together on cases like these, you understand?”

  Delta nodded, pushing her anger deeper. “I’m alright, sir. I know what has to be done next, and I’m okay with that. Just don’t treat me any differently because I’m a woman.”

  Captain Williams smiled. “Have I ever done that?”

  “No, sir. And I don’t anticipate you doing it now.”

  “Alright. I’ll tell you what we’ve got so far. If you have anything to add, or think of anything that we’ve forgotten, sing out. We’ve got a robin’s egg blue van, possibly four door, carrying at least three people.” Delta nodded. She had been in such shock, she hadn’t remembered giving this information when backup finally arrived. She barely remembered the ambulance arriving on the scene. Only when the paramedics were trying to pry Miles away from her, did she realize she was no longer alone.

  “The van was apparently stolen less than an hour before you made the stop.”

  Delta sat up straighter in her chair. “When did you get the call?”

  “Only a few minutes ago. Some guy at a party said that someone must have hotwired his van.”

  “License Zebra Adam Peter--”

  “Nine one four, yes.”

  “We haven’t located the van?”

  Captain Williams shook his head. “And we’re checking the owner out as we speak.”

  “Think he’s lying?”

  Captain Williams pulled a face. “He has about one hundred witnesses to corroborate his alibi.”

  “Then it’s still out there?”

  “Yes. They’ve probably dumped it someplace, but we’ll find it. We’ve got every available officer on the lookout.”

  Delta nodded. When a cop was killed, every precinct, every station, every officer would bust their collective humps to bring the murderer in.

  Captain Williams moved behind his desk and used his asthma inhaler. “We also have a double-barreled shotgun, and something about the killer having strange eyes.”

  This comment puzzled Delta. “Strange eyes?”

  Williams nodded. “That’s what you said to one of the paramedics when they arrived on the scene.”

  Delta tried to recall, but couldn’t even remember having spoken to the paramedic. It had all happened in one huge red blur.

  “Can you give us a sketch to go by?”

  “I can try.”

  Pressing a chubby finger to the intercom button, Williams called for Jonesy, the police artist, who strode through the door only seconds later.

  Jonesy sat next to Delta in the same chair Williams had used, and smiled kindly. A mousy looking guy, he’d probably got all A’s in high school and college. But he was as good an artist as any.

  “Take your time, Stevens. There’s no reason to hurry. Whenever you want to start, just talk it through and ignore what I’m doing.”

  Delta forced her thoughts back. Both spotlights had hit him the second the doors flew open. But had she really seen him?

  She remembered, vividly, how the gun glistened in the light. Did she even get a look at his face? Wasn’t his face covered up? Delta shook her head. “I don’t know, Captain. It happened so fast.”

  Jonesy gently touched Delta’s leg. “That’s natural, Stevens, to think you never saw his face. Most victims of violent crimes usually block that out for a time because it makes the crime that much more personal. For some it takes days, even weeks, before their protective subconscious lets them remember. It’ll come back to you.”

  “We don’t have that kind of time,” Delta growled, more at herself than at the sketch artist.

  Jonesy smiled and patted her leg before picking up his charcoal. “Then why don’t you just tell me what you do remember seeing, and we’ll work from there.”

  Delta inhaled. “The weapon. As clearly as if it was in front of me right now.”

  “Good. Did you see his hands on it?”

  Delta strained to remember. Something about his hands ... “Not his hands. I don’t remember his hands. But I do remember seeing something ...” Closing her eyes, Delta mentally allowed her eyes to travel up the barrel of the gun, past his hands, until they rested... “He had a tattoo on his shoulder.”

  “Excellent. Can you describe it?”

  “It was partially covered up by a black, or maybe a blue, tank top. He was wearing a dark colored tank top.”

  “Good. That’s very good.”

  Delta opened her eyes and looked to Captain Williams, who was smiling slightly. “And his clothing covered up part of the tattoo. It could have been a snake, or a dragon, or anything. I was really too far away to see.”

  “Could it have been a birthmark?” Jonesy offered.

  Delta nodded. “I guess. Big enough to see, but I couldn’t get any detail.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Jonesy went over colors, sizes, shading, shapes, everything that he could glean from her words and fuzzy images.

  At last, setting his board down, Jonesy patted her again. “That’s great, Stevens. You’ve done really well so far.” Delta forced a tired grin.

  “What next?”

  “The most important part — his face.”

  Here, Delta drew a blank. She couldn’t even come up with the color of his hair. No matter how much Jonesy prodded, Delta couldn’t force it to materialize in her mind’s eye.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Williams said after nearly an hour.

  “No, Captain, I have to keep trying. Jonesy, ask me some more questions. Maybe something will shake loose.”

  Moving his large girth from behind the desk, the Captain shooed Jonesy out the door and retook the seat next to Delta.

  “Look, Stevens, how many seconds would you say you had a clear view? Two, maybe three?”

  Delta nodded and bowed her head. She felt like a failure.

  “Given your pretty detailed account of the tattoo, odds are, you didn’t even have the chance to look at his face. Anyone seeing a shotgun barrel poking out at their partner wouldn’t see anything else either. So stop feeling as if you’ve blown it. You did everything you could. And . . . you’re still alive. That’s the number one rule about this job. You know that.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I know how bad you want this bastard, but if you’re going to be of any use to us, to Brookman, we need you to be fresh. Go home, get some rest. Take a bath, have a brandy, and hit the sack. I’ve been there, Stevens, and believe me, tomorrow is just the beginning. I.A. wants to see you first thing in the morning.”

  Delta stared down at her hands. The prospect of going home to an empty house compounded the fracture that ripped through her heart and poured a sour light on the loneliness she felt the moment Miles’s life energy was snuffed from his body. Slowly, painfully, the tears burned the back of her eyes once more.

  “Now you go home and rest. Whatever you do, no matter how tempting it may be, don’t get drunk. A hangover tomorrow will only make things worse.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wiping both eyes at the same time with the heel of her hands, Delta left the Captain’s office. Connie instantly materialized at her side.

  “You okay?”

  Delta shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.”

  Guiding Delta to her desk, Connie gently pushed her into her chair. “Gina has the hot tub warmed up, the extra bed made, and clean pajamas next to the fire. Come home with me.”

  Sighing gratefully, Delta nodded. First Sandy left her and now Miles. She wondered, numbly, whether she would ever feel whole again.

  * * *

  The doors swung open, as if violently kicked from within. Standing on the van’s platform, the huge, bare chested man with apelike arms wheeled the silver double-barreled shotgun into plain view. When he smiled, a silver tooth glistened. In an instant, the mouth of the gun belched a fireball, orange and yellow, as large as the sun itself, lifting Miles up and driving him hard into the ground. “Mil
es!” Delta screamed, as the ape-man turned to her, still looking down the sight of the monster weapon. Indecision tormented her as she reached for her own service revolver. Re-snapping her holster, Delta stared at the specter before her as he smiled wickedly, and his eyes . . . what was wrong with his eyes?

  “No!”

  Sitting up in bed, finding her pajamas soaked through with perspiration, Delta reached blindly for the light on the nightstand.

  Connie and Gina appeared in her room just as the light went on. “Storm, honey, are you okay?” Connie knelt at the bed and grasped Delta’s sweaty hand.

  “Oh God,” Delta said, wiping her wet forehead.

  “You dreamt about it, didn’t you?”

  Delta nodded, relieved she had not stayed home alone.

  “Only this nightmare made me remember something. Something was different about his eyes. I don’t know what, but I remember them being . . . funny.”

  “Was he wearing glasses?”

  Delta shook her head. “I don’t think so. They were just different.”

  Connie patted Delta’s hand. “Good. As time goes by, you should be able to remember more and more.”

  Delta grabbed Connie’s hand in both of hers. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. I don’t think I could handle being alone.”

  “Don’t be silly. I would never have let you go home alone. Stay here as long as you want.”

  Gina nodded. “You want to come sleep with us?”

  Delta sighed.

  “She’s serious, Del. We’ll pack you right in between us so those nightmares can’t possibly get to you.”

  Taking each of their hands, Delta squeezed them. “You two are too much. But if I’m ever going to get a handle on the nightmares, I might as well start now. Thanks, anyway”

  “Well, if they get worse or you don’t want to be alone, come into our room.”

  “I will. Good night.”

  As she watched Gina and Connie walk out of the bedroom, Delta pulled the covers up around her. She would get a handle on the nightmares, alright. It was reality she was worried about.

  * * *