Terminal 9 (3 page)

“I don't know about that.” Mac frowned, choosing his words carefully. “I think . . .”

“I said that wrong.” Dana paused. “I could never fill Kevin Bledsoe's shoes. What I meant is that I know I'm getting this chance because he's sick and is working light duty. I hope Kevin kicks his cancer, but I'm not going to waste the opportunity to prove myself. I'm sure not going to put up with any office gossip, even though it would be totally unfounded.”

Mac bit into his lower lip.
Unfounded?
She was right about that, but her being right didn't stop him from wishing otherwise.

“That's why I don't want to give anyone
anything
to raise their eyebrows at—like seeing you come or go from my apartment. Can you understand where I'm coming from?”

“Sure, I guess so.” He doubted there'd be a problem. Still, Mac respected Dana, and if she felt she needed to distance herself from him for appearance's sake, he could accept that. He just didn't like it. “I feel like there's a double standard, though. No one would give it a second thought if I picked Kevin up.”

“Kevin is a man. I'm a woman. There's a difference, in case you haven't noticed.”

“No kidding.” Mac chuckled.

“And there are double standards—even if there shouldn't be. Women are still scarce in this agency.”

DANA HAD ALMOST C ALLED MAC BACK to pick her up at her apartment instead of the office, knowing it would be faster and closer for them. But she loved her job too much to risk it. Maybe if it had been anyone but Mac, she wouldn't have given it a thought either.

With Mac, she had to go out of her way to avoid the appearance of anything more than friendship. It would be far too easy to fall back into the kind of relationship she'd had with Mac before. They'd dated back in college, and if she were completely honest with herself, she'd admit her feelings for him were even stronger now than they'd been back then. Sadly, their lives had taken separate paths. She'd been thrilled when they'd met up again some months ago when Mac began his first homicide case as a detective with the Megan Tyson murder.

Maybe someday there would be an opportunity for them, but not now. Not with both of them so new to the detective arena. Not with walls that have eyes and ears and fellow workers who already teased her and Mac about being more than partners.

“There are several female detectives in our outfit,” Mac said. “I'll bet they wouldn't worry about whether their male partners picked them up. Take Jan Adams in the arson section. She's top notch; nobody ever gives her any flak.”

Dana nodded. “Jan's been in detectives since you and I were in high school, Mac. I bet she had her share of hurdles too—more than I do. Women are finally being accepted into the good old boys' group.”

“I don't know. I can't imagine anyone messing with Jan; she's like your grandmother and Dirty Harry combined. I don't know how someone so sweet could be so tough at the same time.”

Dana laughed. “I'll ask her for you tomorrow and tell her how much you admire her.”

“What?”

“Don't worry, I'll leave the Dirty Harry reference out. Though personally, I think that's the best part.”

“You're meeting with Jan? Why?” Mac glanced over at Dana. His eyes held a hint of concern and hurt. He'd been mentoring her and doing a pretty decent job, but she needed a woman's perspective.

“Jan and I are meeting for lunch. I wanted to go over a few things. Sergeant Evans suggested it—mainly so we can get to know each other. If nothing else, maybe she can help me shop for some functional detective clothes that look halfway decent.”

“What about me? I'm your partner,” Mac asked jokingly. “Why not let me help spend your clothing allowance?”

“You mean the eight hundred dollars the department gives us to buy two years' worth of professional attire?”

“What? Isn't that enough for you?”

“I can spend that much on shoes alone.” She lifted her foot and inspected her thick-heeled shoe. “Have you shopped for women's clothes lately?”

“Can't say that I have.”

“Mac.” Dana turned serious. “We talked about our relationship when I made detective and you said you were okay with being friends and nothing more. I know you haven't asked me out or anything since then, but I'm still sensing this thing from you—I don't know . . .”

“Attraction?”

“Hmm.” She ran her hand along the seat belt. Unfortunately, she felt more than an attraction for him.

“It's not something I can turn off. I'm sorry if I'm making you feel uncomfortable.”

“I'm sorry too, Mac. For now, we can't . . .”

“Don't worry about it. Just so you know, I am not sitting around waiting for you to change your mind. I'm moving on.”

“You are?” That wasn't what Dana wanted to hear. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut. She hated the thought of Mac dating anyone. She even felt jealous when women gave him admiring looks. But she'd made a decision and needed to stick with it. He was moving on? Fine. She could live with that. She needed to start dating as well. Maybe she'd take Jonathan Carter up on his offer. The attorney she'd met two weeks ago had called twice asking her out. Each time she'd made an excuse. If he called again maybe . . .

MAC PICKED UP THE RADIO MIC. “Station twenty from eleven-fifty-four.” He'd had enough of the conversation and with the relationship that was going nowhere. Dana's rejection stung, and the more he thought about her determination not to get involved with him, the more upset he became.

Best to move on,
he told himself. He'd lied in a way. He wasn't dating anyone yet. Maybe he'd have to change that. There was this cute gal in his apartment complex who had hinted more than once about getting together. And there was Kristen Thorpe. Doc Thorpe did a lot of teasing, but Mac bet she'd take him up on dinner or a movie if he asked. He just wasn't sure he could handle her quirky personality. She was attractive enough if you could get beyond the purple spiked hair and the fact that she worked on corpses and liked her job.

“Eleven-fifty-four,” the dispatcher acknowledged Mac's radio number.

“Eleven-fifty-four, I'll be twelve-thirty-eight to channel fifteen.” He changed his radio channel from the Portland Metro frequency to channel fifteen, the rural Columbia County channel as he started west on Highway 30. On that channel, he could monitor the play-by-play as the uniformed officers worked the scene. “I have eleven-fifty-eight riding with me to the call if I didn't advise earlier. Any updates?”

“Negative, fifty-four. The only information I have is that Dr. Thorpe is on scene and awaiting your arrival.”

“Thanks.” Mac signed off without further comment and noticed Dana's questioning look.

“Dr. Thorpe? For being the state's head medical examiner, she sure takes her share of cases.”

“She likes to be on the front lines.”

“She likes to be with you.”

“Don't go there, Dana,” Mac warned.

“Why, Mac. You're blushing.”

“It's warm in here.”

“Sure it is.” Dana leaned back into the seat, arms folded. If Mac didn't know better, he'd say she was jealous.

“What if I was dating Kristen?” He glanced over at Dana again.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Not at all. I think she has feelings for you.”

Mac shook his head and turned his attention back to the radio. There wasn't much chatter at the moment, just a trooper working traffic along the highway. Mac and Dana passed the trooper calling in the stop near Scappoose. Mac slowed to make sure he didn't need any assistance.

The trooper never broke eye contact with the suspect vehicle as he gave a code four, an all-clear signal, by raising four fingers on one hand.

“You miss the uniform yet?” Mac asked wanting to move their conversation to safer ground.

“No way. The pants never fit right—once again, men's clothing. No more shift work and court on your days off. I like this detective job just fine, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They continued west to the town of St. Helens, then north toward the Columbia River and Terminal 9. As they approached, the lights from the terminal turned the dark March evening into daylight.

Dana squinted. “Those lights should make this case a little easier to work. Hopefully the scene isn't too big.”

Mac agreed. “Have you ever worked a train accident?”

“Not personally, but I understand the body can be spread out over a pretty long stretch of track. I have a hunch this won't be pretty.”

At the opening to the rail yard, Mac rolled down his window and stopped for a uniformed officer from the city police department. “Detectives McAllister and Bennett from OSP.”

“Right. The D.A. said you'd be coming. Just head north toward the river.”

“Thanks.” Mac drove over at least a dozen tracks, lined with thousands of yards of gravel and crushed asphalt, as he maneuvered through the terminal.

“I hope this is the right way. Those floodlights are blinding me.” Mac shaded his eyes with his hand.

“Over there, by that gold and black train engine.” Dana pointed to the right.

Mac nodded and steered toward three black and whites, parked alongside a single rail track that seemed to lead directly to the river. He recognized Kristen Thorpe's Dodge pickup among the patrol cars, backed toward the nose portion of the diesel train engine. Doc Thorpe may have been the head medical examiner, but she worked every bit as hard as the deputy medical examiners under her. Maybe harder.

Kristen gave Mac a nod and her somber face broke into a broad smile. Dana looked at her and then Mac. “See, I was right. Kristen has a thing for you.”

“Enough. You're beginning to sound like a teenager.” Mac gave her a scalding look that said this was neither the time nor the place.

“Come on, Mac, lighten up.”

He sighed. “I've said it before and I'll say it again, the woman isn't my type. I like women with . . . normal hair.”

“Since when did you get so superficial?”

“I'm not.”When he looked back at the woman in question, she had turned her attention to the older man who was dressed in a dark suit with no tie. Mac recognized him as the Columbia County district attorney, Darren Volk.

Mac parked and checked out on the radio with dispatch. Since detectives rarely carried portable radios, he advised that he would be available on his mobile phone if needed.

“You ready for this one, partner?” Mac asked, looking over at Dana. “I've never been to a train accident either, but I can imagine what we're about to see.”

All hint of teasing gone now, Dana exhaled, rubbing her hands down her thighs to her knees in a nervous gesture. “Can't be any worse than that sawmill murder. Let's go.”

Mac thought about Kevin asking him a similar question when they were just starting out together. He remembered how Kevin would always start out a new investigation with a prayer. Mac actually considered doing the same, but the prayer would be silent and terse. He was nowhere near the man of God that Kevin was—didn't know if he ever would be. Mac wished Kevin was with them now. Not that he didn't like being partnered with Dana; he did. But in a crime scene investigation, Mac couldn't be the kind of mentor to Dana that Kevin had been to him. Kevin seemed to have all the answers, and Mac, though gaining more experience all the time, still felt somewhat insecure.

Kevin had covered a lot of ground with Mac, but you could never encounter every possible situation.
You can't be what you're not,
partner.
Mac could almost hear his partner chastising him.
Just do
your best.

He would. Even though this was reported to be an accident, Mac planned to do it “by the numbers,” as Kevin would say.

Mac glanced over at Dana, trying not to look as apprehensive as he felt. “First thing we need to do is make note of the time we arrived on scene and of the weather and wind conditions.”

“I'm already there, Mac. Got the time.” She looked up from her notebook. “Any guess on the temperature?”

Mac opened the car door. “I'd say in the mid-forties.”

Dana held her notebook up to the bright lights of the rail yard to write, then reached up and snapped on the red dome light. Police package cars had the dome light disconnected so they would not turn on when the door was opened for safety reasons; consequently, the light had to be turned on manually.

Mac's car was even equipped with a switch that would eliminate his brake lights from illuminating in the event he was sitting blacked out on a surveillance and wanted to go undetected. This switch was unfortunately a little too easy to forget and had contributed to a rear-end crash a while back when Mac forgot to turn on his brake light switch and was hit from behind. Although there were no injuries, the incident cost Mac more than a little embarassment and a letter of reprimand from Sergeant Evans.

Mac pressed the dash-mounted trunk release button and walked to the rear of the car. Dana gathered her gear, snapping her jacket to the top as a gust of east wind blew off the river. Mac removed the clipboard binder from his leather briefcase, checking to make sure his legal pad had plenty of blank pages. He was about to snap the binder shut when he recognized Kevin's handwriting on the top page of the legal pad. He pulled his mag light from the trunk-mounted charger and spotlighted the pad. What he assumed were notes from a prior crime scene turned out to be a personal note to Mac. He glanced around to make sure Dana wasn't approaching then read it.

Hey, partner.

I thought I'd slip you a note while I was taking some of
my gear from your trunk. I knew it would be only a matter of
time before you and Dana got the ticket and you'd read this.
Even though I'm not with you on whatever case you're about
to tackle, I have every confidence in your ability to get the job
done. Just take it slow, make your crime scene boundary
bigger than you think you need to, and trust your instincts. If
things don't feel right, they probably aren't. You are in my
prayers, buddy. I'm proud of you.