Tuesday, just before noon, on a beautiful spring day, Detective Lainie Jensen and her partner Mike Pepper left the courthouse and faced a gauntlet of reporters and news cameras. After a twelve-month investigation, they’d just closed the book on a serial rapist, so the attention was expected. The case had gone to the jury first thing this morning, and they only deliberated three hours.
“Detectives, do you have a statement for us?”
“Was the verdict satisfying?”
“Did the quick verdict surprise you?”
“What about Hammer’s claim that the DNA sample was planted? That he is, in fact, innocent?”
Lainie had to stop for that one. She searched the group for the voice. Callen West, a local reporter for a Long Beach weekly. West was a vocal activist for what he called “bail reform,” but in Lainie’s opinion, he espoused not arresting anyone for anything, meaning no one should ever go to jail.
“What about it? The evidence proved that Cory Hammer was a serial rapist. We caught him in the act, and his DNA tied him tothirteen other attacks. The jury was spot-on with its verdict. I would have expected nothing less.”
“You profiled him! It’s not a stretch to think that you planted evidence.”
Lainie started to head toward West, but Mike grabbed her arm and kept her walking toward the car. Lainie let him. If she got in West’s face, she’d get herself in trouble. And she’d already been in enough trouble at work—she couldn’t afford any more.
They continued through the crowd, ignoring the rest of the reporters’ questions. West’s gaze shot daggers at her. He would never be called a friend to law enforcement.
Once in the car, she blew out an aggravated breath. “That guy.”
Mike chuckled as he started the engine. “He sure knows how to rev you up.”
“He sat in the courtroom; he saw the evidence and heard the testimony.” She shook her head. “Still, he thinks the guy is innocent. Or worse, that we fudged the evidence.”
“It gets him clicks.”
“Humph.” Lainie was just happy to be done with court. It was, of course, essential, but with their caseload, it felt like lost time. She was eager to be busy with police work. Lainie had wanted to do this job since she was seven, when her best friend, Jaycee, had been kidnapped in front of her house.
The police had found and rescued her seven hours later. The picture on the newspaper’s front page of Jaycee cradled by a large police officer, her arms wrapped around his neck, was indelibly inked in Lainie’s mind and heart. The incident fomented a desire to be a cop herself, to be a dragon slayer and a rescuer.
“Thanks for the save, by the way.”
Mike shrugged. “That’s what partners are for.”
After the trouble she’d had with internal affairs, Lainie was lucky to have Mike. An inch taller than her, five foot ten to her five nine,he was well-built and fit, having dabbled in boxing and MMA before he became a cop. He kept his head shaved and wore a bushy black mustache. Mike was devoted to his wife and their special-needs son. He was thirty-six, the same age as Lainie, though she’d been a cop a year longer, so technically she was the senior partner. But they played to each other’s strengths, and there never was a power struggle.
Mike drove and headed for their predetermined lunch spot. Lainie pulled out her tablet to review the details of their next case, now that the rape case was over and done. As violent crimes detectives, they handled assaults, rapes, serious domestic violence, and just about anything short of murder. At times the work weighed on Lainie—they couldn’t save everyone, and some of the victims’ stories were heart-wrenching. But she rejoiced in victories like the one they’d had in court today.
The radio crackled on and off with routine police traffic, and she half listened to the happenings in the city. Her best friend on the force, Sara Green, worked day patrol, and Lainie picked out her call sign, 2David23, from time to time.
Beep beep.
The emergency tone caught her attention, and she looked up from the iPad.
“All units and 2David23, incomplete 911 call, possible domestic violence at 345 Elm Street. Respond Code 3.”
Lainie glanced over at Mike. They were about to turn into the restaurant lot, but they were only two blocks from the address. On the radio, Sara’s voice answered that she was en route, and her siren blared in the background.
“Hey, you up to helping on that? Sara’s without her rookie and we’re close.”
He gave a half shrug. “Sure, we’ll get the case anyway if it’s a domestic.” Mike swung the car in a U-turn and activated the plain car’s lights and siren.
Lainie turned up the radio a bit as the dispatcher continued.
“Before the call disconnected, the calling party stated that her boyfriend had hit her and was now threatening her with a knife...”
Mike turned the corner on Elm and slowed—at the other end of the street a black-and-white rapidly approached.
