ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (35 page)

            As Kate disconnected she had a minor epiphany. She’d come to think of Pete as addict Pete, someone who needed to be protected from his demons. But the real Pete was a firefighter courageous enough to run into a collapsing skyscraper to save people he didn’t know.

            His desire to investigate for himself was a sign of recovery, of his returning emotional strength. She said a silent prayer that it wouldn’t get him killed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

            The deep breathing and talking to himself was helping, but Skip still couldn’t wait to get out of the city. They hadn’t had any luck locating Roxie. He and Dolph had split up to keep looking while Tyrell went to check out Matthews’ old apartment.

            Skip was toying with the idea of giving up. They’d been over the ten square blocks where she was likely to be twice and had gone to the room she rented in the flophouse. Another young woman had answered their knock and told them Roxie had moved out. Maybe she had left town now.

            He spotted a group of gals on the next street corner. Taking a deep breath, he headed in their direction. As he neared them, he saw a flash of a pale elbow, at about thigh height of the women clustered around. At first he thought a child was amongst them.

           
Roxie!
He quickened his pace.

            The women were having a rather animated conversation. Skip realized Roxie was trying to recruit the others to make porn movies. “I’ve got the equipment. Jimmy gave it to me, you know, before–”

            “Gave it to you, or you stole it from the basement?”

            Skip’s question had Roxie whirling around and the others taking a few steps back. The child-woman tried to take off but Skip caught her by the upper arm. The others scattered.

            “Where were you Saturday?” Skip asked. “We were looking for you for a long time.”

            “As I recall you found me. Now let go.” Roxie tried to tug her arm loose.

            “Not until I get some answers. Where were you earlier that day?”

            “With a john, of course. He wanted an all-day exclusive.”

            “Mr. Polinski by any chance?”

            Roxie stopped squirming. Her pale face went even whiter. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

            “And he’s gonna swear to that if I call him right now? I have his home number, by the way. Maybe I should ask his wife first whether or not he was home on Saturday.”

            Horror washed over Roxie’s face, then was gone, replaced with a sneer. “You sonofabitch! You’d ruin the poor man’s life just like that.”

            “No, actually I wouldn’t. He seems to be doing a fine job of ruining it without my help. But I am hanging onto you so you can’t call him and arrange your alibi. Detective Cooper wants to have a chat with you.”

            Roxie renewed her squirming and trying to yank her arm loose. She looked up at him and curled her lip. “Let go of me, you bastard! You men are all the same. Just manhandle a woman, make her do whatever you want.”

            “Oh really, you just called Polinski a ‘poor man.’ He’s not a bastard like the rest of us?”

            If he kept her talking, maybe she’d let something slip. He gave her a little shake to settle her down.

            It didn’t work. She dug in her heels on the sidewalk and leaned back, trying to use her weight to pull him off balance. “No, he’s not a bastard. He’s pathetic.” She spat out the last word.

            “You like that word
pathetic
don’t you? You bandy it about a good bit.”

            “Yeah, well that’s what most men are–pathetic bastards.”

            A combination of cheap perfume and body odor assaulted Skip’s nostrils. His stomach threatened to rebel. He took in a couple deep breaths through his mouth.

            Roxie narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you be panting after me, Mr. Limp-dick Married Man. I ain’t givin’ ya none. And if ya try to take it, I’ll scream rape.”

            Part of him wanted to laugh out loud. Another part wanted to smack her. He decided neither would be a useful response. “Trust me, I’m not the least bit interested in your favors.”

            “Don’t you be lookin’ down your high-’n-mighty nose at me, you pathetic slime ball!”

            “Now there you go with that word
pathetic
again.”

            “Yeah, well that’s what my bastard stepfather used to call me.” She was yelling now. “Right after he beat the shit outta me and raped me. Then
he’d
call
me
pathetic. Well, I showed him. Who’s the pathetic one now?”

            Skip’s shock at her bluntness must have registered on his face because hers turned into a mask of fury. It took a second for the last part of her tirade to register in his mind.

            But before he could process what it meant, Roxie had launched herself at him. “Don’t you dare pity me!” she screamed, spittle flying, hitting him in the face. “You’re just like him. You’re probably diddling your daughters while your pathetic wife watches.”

            Rage exploded in his chest. His fist came up and he just barely managed not to slug her. Instead he swiped his sleeve across his face. Then he grasped both her shoulders and shook her. “You need to shut up now,” he said through clenched teeth.

            “Let her go, man,” a heavily accented voice said from behind him.

            Skip whirled around, hanging onto Roxie with one hand. Standing less than ten feet away were one of Freddie’s men and a scrawny white dude Skip didn’t recognize.

            Did these guys get missed in the police sweep, or had they made bail?

            “I said let her go.”

            “She’s under arrest.”

            The Hispanic dude took a step toward him. “You ain’t no cop.”

            Skip was trying to tamp down his anger, as well as the urge to pull his gun and shoot these bastards. Probably not a good idea.

            Unfortunately while contemplating his options, he’d loosened his grip on Roxie’s shoulder. She yanked away from him and took off down the sidewalk.

            He started after her but the Hispanic dude stepped into his path. “We need to teach ya a lesson, man. Can’t have ya manhandlin’ de merchandise.”

            Skip’s gut twisted. His mouth went dry. This was Freddie’s replacement. And the man had something to prove. He was marking his territory.

            Skip’s sheer size was apparently enough to make scrawny white dude nervous. He plucked at his buddy’s arm. “Come on, he let her go.”

            Skip’s brain had frozen. No strategy for what to do next came to mind. He continued to stare at the short but beefy Hispanic guy, hoping his fear wasn’t showing on his face.

            He let out a fake growl. That was enough for the white guy. He took off.

            To his right, Skip caught a glimpse of Roxie rounding the corner half a block away.
Damn!
He’d finally caught up with her and these bastards made him lose her again.

            Anger surged through him, burning his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Now what, asshole?”

            The man was opening and closing his hands. The muscles in his meaty arms–bare despite the chilly day–rippled each time he clenched his fists. But his eyes were showing a lot of white around dark brown pupils. He backed away. “Just show de girls a little respect an’ we’ll leave ya alone, man.”

            Skip swallowed the desire to tell him he had no interest in showing the girls anything. He turned to his left to watch the man swagger away, then pulled out his cell phone and called Tyrell.

            “Hey, I had Roxie but she got away from me. She just turned the corner from North Eutaw, west on Fayette.”

            “Hang on. I’ll get some uniforms to chase her down.” Skip heard the crackle of a police band radio in the background, then the detective giving the dispatcher Roxie’s description.

            “The furniture in Matthews’ apartment was still there,” Tyrell said. “I found what might be tiny blood splatters on the wall, low near the floor. Got a crime scene unit on the way.”

            “Your people didn’t catch that before?” Skip heard the sharpness in his tone. “Sorry, man, I just had a confrontation with a couple of lowlifes. That’s how Roxie got away from me.”

            “No problem, and it’s a good question. The place isn’t all that clean and these spots could be something other than blood. Hate to think about what. The techs will spray it will luminol and see what they get.”

            “Okay, I’ll–”

            “Look out!” A male voice from behind him.

            Skip whirled. Sunlight flashed off a blade. He threw up his arm.

            He’d partially deflected the blow but a searing pain erupted in his bicep.

            The child in front of him raised her arm, a knife in her hand. “I’ll kill you too, you pathetic bastard!”

            A blur to his right. A man’s body slammed into the girl.

            Skip was knocked off his feet. His head cracked against the cement sidewalk. An explosion of pain.

           
Roxie!
The girl with the knife was Roxie.

            The world went dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

            Skip had no idea how much time had passed when he looked up into Dolph’s sagging face. He’d never noticed before how much the man resembled a basset hound.

            “If this is heaven, I want a transfer,” he muttered.

            Dolph laughed. “He’ll live.”

            A paramedic’s face replaced Dolph’s. He helped Skip sit up.

            “What happened?” Skip asked.

            “I was coming around the corner back there.” Dolph gestured behind him. “Best I could tell Roxie tried to skewer you and Pete jumped her.”

            Nearby was a gurney. From the ground, Skip couldn’t make out who was lying on it. He used his good arm to push himself up to a stand, despite the paramedic’s efforts to discourage this. He swayed a little on his feet, then took a couple steps toward the gurney.

            The left shoulder of Pete’s shirt was bloody. A second paramedic was in the process of wrapping a bandage around his right hand.

            “He gonna be okay?” Skip asked the paramedic.

            “Yeah, she just grazed my shoulder,” Pete answered him. “My hand got cut when I grabbed the knife from her.”

            “Thanks, man. You saved my life.”

            Pete grinned up at him. “Figured I owed you one.”

            Skip put a hand on Pete’s uninjured shoulder and squeezed gently.

            The world tilted a little. Dolph reached out to steady him. “You’re bleedin’ all over the sidewalk, son. Let these boys patch you up.”

            “Over here, sir.” A paramedic led Skip toward an ambulance and had him sit in the open doorway. He squirted something into the wound on his arm.

            It stung like hell. He winced and tried not to pull away. “Did Roxie get away?”

            “Nope,” Dolph said. “Tyrell has her in custody. Judith’s on her way down. He’s gonna let her have first crack at the kid. See if a woman’s touch can get more outta her. He said I could observe.”

            Skip was amazed at how calm he felt. Was it real or just endorphins?

            Could be real. The worst had happened. He’d been attacked, knocked out, could’ve been killed. But he woke up. And if he hadn’t, he’d be dead and wouldn’t be able to feel afraid anymore.

            He wasn’t sure how logical all that was, but it felt like something had shifted and he wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.

            The second paramedic had finished with Pete. He came over to the ambulance. Tilting Skip’s head down a little, he started probing the lump on the back of it. Skip winced again.

            “Don’t poke at his brain too hard there, young man,” Dolph said. “He ain’t got no brain cells to spare. What the hell were you doing letting a little gal like that get the drop on you?”

            “She’d twisted loose from me and took off. I thought she was long gone. Tyrell said you could observe, but not me?”

            “You’re gonna be on your way to the hospital, son.”

            Skip looked at the paramedic who was now wrapping a gauze bandage around his bicep. The guy was pretty beefy, looked like he was into body-building. Nodding down at his arm, Skip asked, “How bad is it?”

            The paramedic hesitated. Skip narrowed his eyes at him. Finally the man said, “Not too bad. Docs at the hospital will put some stitches in the muscle to make sure it heals right, before they close up the wound.”

            Skip debated for a second. He
really
wanted to be there when Judith interviewed Roxie. “You cleaned it out good?”

            “Irrigated as best I could, but they’ll work on it some more at the hospital. Get you on antibiotics, to be on the safe side.”

            “It gonna make any difference whether those things are done right away? Or can they wait an hour or two?”

            “Are you crazy?” Dolph yelled.

            Skip ignored him. He held the paramedic’s gaze as the latter hesitated. Finally the man said, “I can’t make you go to the hospital... Uh, I wouldn’t push it much past an hour. Let me get you a sling to keep it still, so the bleeding doesn’t start up again.”

            “I take it you didn’t find anything back there,” Skip said to the paramedic who’d been checking his head.

            “How could he? Your brains already fell out of your head!”

            “Ease up, Dolph. Can’t you have some pity for a poor injured man here.”

            In the next instant, pain shot through Skip’s arm as the body-builder paramedic slid it into a sling, then passed a strap around his body to immobilize the arm.

            “I’ll go to the hospital,” he managed to push past gritted teeth. “But I wanna hear what Roxie has to say for herself first.”