Down Came the Rain (NOW FREE!)

29

Chapter 29

"But seriously, one of the funniest calls I ever responded to came from a corner carryout on the east side," Frank said as he made a left turn, heading in the direction of the police station. "They were robbed at gunpoint by a man wearing a ski mask and a uniform that said 'Great Lakes Auto' across the front."

Myles threw his head back and roared with laughter. "You've gotta be shittin' me!"

"Would I shit a bullshitter?" Frank wiped tears from his eyes. "That's not even the best part. The best part is the name 'Darrell' was stitched on the pocket!"

"Oh, come on! Now I know you're lying."

"I'm not lyin', I swear! You can't make this shit up. Some criminals are actually that stupid. You'll see ..." The older cop turned on the fog lights, squinting as he peered out the windshield. "Glad our shift's about over. This fog is ridiculous. Once rush hour hits, the accident reports will start pouring in."

A dense curtain of gray scudded around the squad car. Myles glanced at his cell. He'd sent Hudson a text several hours ago wishing her a goodnight, but never heard back. Not that he was surprised. She'd mentioned her friend Jacob was back in town and would be staying with her so she wouldn't be alone. Between him, Annie, and now Jacob, Hudson should be safe. At least, in the middle of the night.

"Are you listening to me?" Frank asked, giving him a nudge in the arm.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

His partner arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, I asked if you had plans later? Ebony wanted me to invite you to dinner."

Was that a sliver of disapproval lurking in Frank's eyes? If he told him about his plans, would he get another lecture? He decided to go for it and tell him anyway. "Actually, I was going to stop by the art exhibit. It opens today to the public."

Frank nodded and pursed his lips, then turned his attention toward the road. "Ebony mentioned that she'd like to see Hudson's paintings before it's over."

That didn't surprise him. Ebony had been nothing but kind and supportive since the day they'd first met. Of course, she'd want to be there for Hudson: the girl who'd lost her family, and now the victim of a demented stalker. He could easily see his partner's wife wanting to get closer to the girl. Frank, on the other hand, was a different story. "And what about you?"

A long pause stretched between them, heavy and uncertain. Finally, Frank inhaled through flared nostrils. "I'd like to go, too. I may not agree with you seeing that girl, but I'm not going to give you a hard time. You already know how I feel," he said, slipping Myles a sideways glance. "And I'll just leave it at that."

Yeah, Myles knew exactly how he felt; the older cop had made his opinion loud and clear. More than once. And as much as he wanted to confront Frank's endearing nickname "That Girl", he thought it best to ignore the insulting comment. That Girl had a name, and she deserved respect. His partner didn't think dating her was the smartest idea, but it was his life, not Frank's. But at least he was finally done hounding him about it. Most likely, Ebony was behind her husband's change of heart.

A sudden crackle of static erupted from the radio before a throaty female voice came through. "Any units near West 18th Street and Davidson, please respond."

Frank immediately replied. "Dispatch, this is Adam 203. Go ahead."

"There's an unconscious female in the alley near the back entrance of Poling Pharmacy. Injuries reported."

"Copy that. Adam 203 en route."

A strange tightness spread across Myles' chest. He flipped on the light-bar and siren as his partner turned the vehicle around in the closest intersection. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what kind of scene they were responding to. A hardworking prostitute with an unhappy pimp, showering her with the ugly ins and outs of the business? Or maybe an addict, unwilling or unable to pay off her last fix? He was exhausted and ready to call it a night, but there was no telling how long this latest call would hold them up.

A few moments later, they parked next to the alley, the narrow entrance nearly swallowed up by swirls of gray. Half a dozen early morning joggers and dog walkers formed a circle around the crime scene, their cautious chatter carrying through the thick layer of fog. In the distance, sirens made their way closer.

Frank and Myles grabbed flashlights and moved toward the darkened alley. "Excuse us. Please step aside," Frank said as they cut through the line of curious onlookers.

A red-haired man was bent low, cradling a crumpled figure in his arms, the clarity of her features stolen by abrasions and blood. "I'm a medical student," he said as they approached. He looked up from the victim. "She's alive, but her pulse is thready. And she just started to mumble but she's not making any sense."

"When was she found?" Frank asked, stooping down next to him.

The man paused. "Approximately twelve minutes ago."

Frank muttered a command into the mic clipped to his shirt then turned on the flashlight, gently lifting the girl's eyelid. He flicked the beam across one pupil and then the next. "She's equal and reactive. Paramedics are on their way."

Myles stepped closer, the flare of his light muted by the smog. He flashed the glow in a circle around them, searching for clues to what had taken place. A paper grocery bag lay nearby, the contents scattered along the cement. Shattered eggs, a loaf of bread, odds and ends. And a brown, leather purse. His hand reached inside, probing for a wallet that might hold identification.

"I think I've got something here," he called out, just as two more officers made their way onto the scene. Fumbling with the wallet, he pulled out a laminated state ID.

Hudson Caldwell.

It couldn't be! He must have read wrong. What would she being doing out here alone at this hour of the morning? And where was her friend? Wasn't protecting Hudson the reason he'd come home early? Myles studied the name once more, the letters unchanging under the harshness of his gaze. "Frank! Frank, it's Hudson!" Myles jumped up and ran toward her, pushing his way close. "It's Hudson," he said again, bending down next to her.

Incoherent words and phrases echoed chaotically around him, but he couldn't make sense of their meanings or who they were coming from. When large hands pulled him away, he shrugged them off with unintended force. "Hudson," he said as calmly as he could. Brushing blood-matted hair  from her face, his thumb trailed over the deep gash along her cheek. It was sticky and bumpy under his touch. "Hudson," he said again, this time louder. "It's Myles. You're going to be okay. I'm here now, and I promise to stay with you. Nothing like this will ever happen again."

Sirens wailed in the background. Frank's voice broke in, steady and sure. "Everyone move aside, make room for the ambulance. And would someone get him outta here?"

Once again, hands reached for Myles' shoulders but he jerked away from their grasp. "I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying with her. She doesn't have anyone else."

A clunky stretcher tore through the crowd. Two male paramedics moved in front of him, tending to Hudson while the officers detained the increasing crowd of bystanders. Wrapping a brace around her neck, they lifted her body from the cement and transferred her to the cart, and finally into the ambulance. Myles listened with a vague sense of unreality as one paramedic shouted instructions to the cops standing nearby.

"I'm coming with you," Myles said, hopping in alongside her. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on Hudson and the deep purple bruises disguising the soft curves of her face. Anger sparked inside of him like fire. The only thing holding him together was the thought of catching the man who'd done this, the one who'd caused so much pain.

His gaze connected with Frank's. "I don't care about protocol or what you think is right or wrong. You bring Nick Lockhart in," he told his partner through gritted teeth, "or so help me God—I'll find him and kill the bastard myself."