A Voice from the Field (2 page)

Another shove and Tia stumbled toward the open door that now looked like a gaping mouth ready to swallow her whole. Yellow light from the streetlamps framed a shadowed image inside the vehicle. A face. A young girl. Dark brown skin. Brown eyes. A six-inch piece of heavy cloth duct tape covered her mouth from cheek to cheek. Long wisps of gray thread hung off each end, rising and falling in rhythm with her rapid breathing. Tia got her wits about her and pushed back, pulling hard at the hand across her mouth.

The john tightened his grip around her neck and called out to his partner, “Get over here. This bitch is strong.”

Her wig slid down the side of her head and the earpiece dangled loose around her neck. Tia did her best to scream. TJ's frantic voice could be heard by everyone.

“Officer under assault. All units, code three response.
Move, move, move!
”

Engines and sirens fired to life, splitting the silence of the night.
Fifteen seconds,
she thought.
Twenty seconds, max. That's all I need.

Tia pulled her arm back and turned her body, delivering a full-strength elbow strike against her attacker's windpipe, sending him to his knees. She sucked in a desperate breath and turned her attention to the second man, who came at her in a rush. She aimed a kick at his crotch and felt the stiletto heel pierce deep into the skin of his groin. He screamed in pain and joined his partner on the ground. The fat one clutched his throat but managed to speak. “She's a cop. Let's get the hell out of here.”

Staring into the van, Tia kicked off her shoes. Her plan was simple. Grab the girl, hunker down, and wait for the cavalry. But Tia couldn't see the captive anymore. She reached into the van, fumbling until,
there
. She grabbed hold of what felt like a foot. The skin was young but weathered and Tia could feel the years of work under the sun.

“Come to me,
mija
. Get out!”

Tia pulled until a massive weight knocked her to the asphalt. The fat man was on his feet, slamming the door shut. His partner, already back in the driver's seat, dropped the engine into gear. The would-be john staggered for the passenger door as Tia pulled herself up off the ground. She spoke in perfect English, the accent gone. “Not so fast, fat boy.”

She launched herself onto his back, landing as if he were a plow horse. She encircled his neck in the crook of her arm and clamped down with a perfect carotid restraint. He threw his body backward, slamming her flush against the side of the van, but she maintained her hold. He called out in a weak voice, “God damn it, Jessup, get this bitch off me. Don't leave me here.”

The tires chirped loud against the pavement as the van sped from the parking lot. Still riding his back, Tia watched as the van turned a corner, and the taillights winked good-bye. Her backup closed in, sirens wailing. She heard the final acceleration of sixteen cylinders and the scraping sound of the undercarriage against pavement as the cop cars sped into the parking lot from all directions, ignoring the marked exits and entrances. Red and blue light bathed the air.

She looked up to signal her exact location and in that moment of distraction the suspect flipped her off his back. Tia landed hard and the big man dropped on top of her, all three hundred plus pounds pushing her flat against the asphalt still warm from the day's heat. His mouth was right up against her ear. “Out here playing cops and robbers, bitch? That's gonna cost ya.”

The sound of opening car doors was followed by pounding boots. The first baton struck him near the head, barely missing Tia. More strikes began to rain down on his arms and legs and Tia was caught with a few glancing blows. “Watch out, guys. I'm right here.” Tia's voice was now in command. “Get him off me and then you can beat his ass.”

A Milwaukee PD officer who looked like he could play linebacker for the Packers rolled the suspect away from Tia and the tune-up continued for considerably longer than necessary. TJ, who didn't have the luxury of lights, siren, and 310 horsepower, arrived last. He worked to establish control over the chaos. “All right, guys, that's enough. Get him cuffed.”

Still a little breathless from the thirty-second battle, Tia got to her feet. She grabbed Travis's patrol radio, her voice steadying as she spoke. “Dispatch, this is Newberg Unit David-Fourteen. One in custody. Second subject fled in a white panel van. No visible plate. Last seen westbound on Lincoln Avenue. Possible kidnapping victim in the rear of vehicle.”

TJ took Tia by the shoulders and looked hard into her eyes. Tia saw the relief flood across his face, but his tone seemed almost condescending when he said, “Calm down, Tia. We're here. Are you all right?”

Tia kept looking in the direction the van had gone. “There was a second guy. He took off. There was a girl in the back of that van. A teenager. Tied up and gagged. She … Damn, Travis. We need to find her.”

“Take it easy, Tia. We got this. Just take it easy.”

The suspect was now handcuffed and on his feet. Tia strode forward and delivered a full-force palm strike to his solar plexus. The air ran from his body as he dropped back to his knees. Tia followed up with a hard slap across his face with an open hand.

“Where's your partner headed in that van? Who's the girl?”

The man ignored Tia and looked at TJ. “This chick is crazy. I don't know what she's talking about.”

Tia drew back her fist to deliver a more meaningful blow that she figured might loosen his tongue. A hand grabbed her wrist. She turned, her face hot with adrenaline.

“He's had enough, Tia,” TJ said.

Tia pulled her hand away and stepped back. She stared down the empty road, then closed her eyes. Tia knew where this was going. She knew what was in store.
But it was real,
she thought
. Damn it, she was real.

 

TWO

Tia walked across the marbled mezzanine of the Milwaukee County Courthouse and approached the long line of civilians waiting to shuttle through the metal detector. Three young, dark-skinned men received ample attention from guards who were damn near giddy at the rare opportunity to flex their cop-like muscle. The homeboys stood humbled in stocking feet, holding up their baggy pants, waiting to reclaim belts, oversized athletic shoes, ball caps, hair picks, and other proud symbols of their ghetto life. Tia sidestepped the group and went to the front of the line, where a rotund County Deputy, near despondent with boredom, watched over entry into the main lobby.

Overflowing his barstool chair, twiddling two pudgy thumbs in his lap, he maintained an air of indifference that implied he was of loftier rank than his peon co-workers, who were busy handling the heavy lifting of searches and property inspections. Tia held out her detective shield with photo ID. She watched as the deputy's startled expression took on a familiar look of disbelief and he leaned in to scrutinize her credentials. When it took longer than it should, Tia shoved the badge within an inch or two of his round face. The deputy jerked back and the furrows of his moist brow grew a little deeper. Tia met the man's stare and made it clear she was looking for a one-word answer.

“What do you say, Dep? Am I good to go?”

The deputy gave Tia's police ID card one last look, as if he studied it long enough he'd find some evidence of fraud. Several more seconds passed before he gave a reluctant jerk of his head.

At just a bit over five foot four, with a rich brown complexion and a lean build, Tia was accustomed to the long stares of the fat-ass courthouse cops of the world. No one could believe the petite little brown girl who looked all of nineteen was actually a sworn cop. Considering the circles she moved in, she understood. She didn't fit the profile. She was an outlier. An aberration. In most cases, the men she worked with didn't know what to make of her. And it wasn't just the cops. Tia had been dealing with this sort of bullshit her entire life and it never took her long to convince doubters she was the real deal.

Tia tucked her shield back inside her jacket pocket, making sure the uniformed hall monitor got a look at the grip of the forty caliber hanging from her shoulder holster. She gave a wink as she walked away. “Don't overdo it, Deputy. Pace yourself.”

Tia ignored the wandering, sheep-like people and headed straight for the bay of elevators. Once she was alone in an empty car, her mind turned to the man named Gunther Kane. She had thought of little else since the hooker detail less than forty-eight hours ago.

State and federal records didn't have much on Kane, an ex-con with priors for dope and felony assault, who'd been out of the joint for less than three years. The current charge of assault against an officer, along with a possible kidnapping, meant Kane was looking at serious time. Tia figured with any luck he'd be willing to make a deal and provide a location on the girl.

Tia wished they could forego the formalities of a court hearing.
Just let me get it out of him like I should have at the start,
she thought,
on the street.
Yet she'd relived the brawl a dozen times. Even now she felt the weight of him pressing down on her and she knew there was no denying it—if the other cops hadn't shown up, it could have gone the wrong way.
Again
.

Tia's mind jerked to life as if she'd changed the channel on a TV set. Her heart jumped at the sound of gunfire and panicked screams. Somewhere behind her a half-dozen plates crashed to the floor. She spun around but saw nothing other than the empty elevator car. The air took on the odor of frying walleye and the familiar burrow of a high-velocity intrusion burned against her skin. Tia's free hand went to her chest and she gulped for air. She closed her eyes, slowly blew out a breath, and let the moment pass. The sounds and images began to fade.

Gage—the shrink—called it a panic attack: a normal reaction to a traumatic near-death experience.
Whatever.
Tia knew she couldn't afford another setback. The whole post-traumatic stress bullshit was wearing thin and another relapse in a courtroom might very well spell the end of her career. Crazy shit going on inside her head was one thing, but Tia knew that's where it had to stay. She reached into the pocket of her blazer and fingered the smooth pills, half-convincing herself if she just took one it would calm her nerves. She pulled back her hand, chastising herself for even having the pills with her in court. She knew damn well the meds were for off-duty emergencies only … but courtrooms were an especially tough gig.

Tia shook her head, dismissing the idea that she had some sort of problem. “Jesus, Suarez,” she said out loud, “forget about the meds. Calm your own damn nerves.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Stepping out, Tia bumped into a well-dressed man who seemed annoyed having to step aside for a woman with somewhere to go.

“Slow down, girl,” he said, his voice dripping with casual disrespect. “Whoever he is can wait, right?”

The puny, suit-wearing stiff no doubt figured Tia to be some
chica
with family issues, despite her carefully selected, courtroom-ready outfit. Making bail for a locked-up husband. Maybe getting Dad out of the drunk tank. Tia was tempted to flash her forty cal again but let it go. As the man disappeared into the elevator, she muttered to herself, “Arrogant prick.”

Tia checked in with the receptionist, who ushered her into a well-appointed conference space. Travis Jackson, wearing a tie and dark sport coat, sat at the table, opposite a professionally attired woman who had the dark skin of a fellow Latina.

“Hey, Sarge. Must be a big case for you to be on time.”

Travis shifted in the hard-back office chair but said nothing. The woman, busy scrawling notes in a file folder, stopped and looked Tia up and down over the top of her tortoiseshell half frames. Her hair was pulled back tight into a shiny black ball balanced on the back of her head. Perfectly applied blush gave her brown cheeks just a hint of rose. When she spoke, Tia heard authority in her voice. It wasn't the least bit welcoming.

“I take it you're Officer Suarez?”

“
Detective
Suarez, Newberg PD.”

The woman looked back at her notes. “I'm Patricia Graham. I've been assigned as prosecutor.”

Tia stood there thinking there might be more coming from the lawyer and feeling an ominous amount of tension in the room. When Graham said nothing more, Tia sat beside TJ, knowing when it came to cops and lawyers rigid relations were nothing new. She leaned in and elbowed her fellow cop. He seemed righteously pissed off about something and she decided to try to snap him out of it.

“Why didn't you call me? We could've ridden over together. Is anyone from MPD here? They get anything on the girl yet?”

Graham closed the file and started right in.

“Officer Suarez, as I was just explaining to Sergeant Jackson, we've reached a pretrial agreement with the accused. We won't be needing your testimony today. You're both free to return to Newberg.”

Tia was put off by the officious tone. She narrowed her eyes and pushed back.

“Like I told you, it's ‘Detective' Suarez, and what are you saying? He copped a plea? What's he getting? Did he give up his partner? What about a location on the girl?”

“The details of the agreement aren't up for discussion, but thank you for driving over. The clerk will validate your parking.”

The woman stood to leave and Tia held up a hand to stop her. Tia gave Travis, who was already half out of his chair, a puzzled look, then turned to Graham. “Wait a minute; I'm not getting this. You took a plea deal on a felony assault and kidnapping case? What's the exposure? He must have given up the girl then, right?”

“Officer Suarez—”

“I told you, it's
Detective
.”

Travis fell back into his seat and shot the attorney a look that struck Tia as some sort of warning. Graham kicked out one hip and crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pressed tight together. “Yes, of course. I apologize. I won't be needing your testimony today,
Detective.
”