Finding Grace Page 2

  The bus lurched. Thorne saw him again in her mind’s eye. God, he was big. Big enough to carry all of those ghosts. Men he’d slain. So many.

  But the dark eyes looking out of his rough-hewn face didn’t belong to a killer. They held honor and horror; they belonged to a warrior who’d done his duty and believed he’d lost his soul doing it. The nose below those suffering eyes had been broken more than once, long ago. No doubt before he was fully grown and had gotten all those muscles his rented tux hadn’t been able to accommodate. With his shaved head, the short beard and mustache did nothing to soften his appearance. She knew the snake’s head tat on the big paw she’d seen emerging from his sleeve was one of many she hadn’t seen. No, the only thing soft about the man had been his barely-detectable southern accent, spoken with a deep voice that had vibrated in such an oddly pleasant way inside her.

  These things she knew. But they didn’t tell her why she’d trusted him, or why she felt like her life had changed just as irrevocably as it had that night on her birthday five years ago.

  With a final lurch and a tortured groan, the bus came to a stop and Thorne stepped off. She looked warily around her. Low rent neighborhoods had their advantages. There was, well, the low rent—and the anonymity too. They were worth the disadvantages one had to keep an eye out for.

  Thorne wondered if she’d get any real work done tonight.

  Chapter Two

  None of it added up. Maybe they had the wrong guy. If he was a guy. Griggs had assured Luke that the little purple-haired terror cussing a blue streak in his observation room had been male, and Griggs was building a shiner to back that up. Luke couldn’t help but wonder how his officer had let someone that small, man or not, get the jump on him like that.

  It had taken a while to track Thorne’s apartment down, once they had a name. After some pressure, the catering boss had admitted to paying cash for short-term help. That was the first dead end. But it turned out that one of the waiters was an illegal. It hadn’t taken too much to get him to admit that he’d dropped Thorne at a Laundromat after giving him a ride home from a couple of jobs.

  There were a few apartments above the place, but no “Thorne” on any of the mailboxes or in the DMV database meant they’d had to find the landlord. The only thing that guy had been able to tell them was that a person named Thorne rented apartment number three on the end, always paid on time, always in cash and, in the almost-five years he’d lived there, had never been any trouble. One didn’t ask questions of a tenant like that in a neighborhood like this, the man had said.

  Luke supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. At least they knew where Thorne lived. He’d sent Griggs and his partner to pick him up for questioning. It only took a glance at Griggs to see things hadn’t gone smoothly.

  The damn kid had to be linked to the attempted kidnapping in some way or all of this was for nothing. Luke wanted answers. Why rat them out? Nothing he came up with made any sense.

  He was glad to hear Paul Weston’s voice in the hall. If anyone could help him get to the bottom of things, it was Paul. Unfortunately, though, he’d had to bring Jack Daggery with him in order to positively ID Thorne as the source. That man made him nervous as hell. Sure, he’d served with Paul in the Corps just like Luke had, but Dagger’d also worked undercover for the ATF and the NSA. That alone would’ve made Luke wary of him; it wasn’t just the years Dagger had spent getting in good with some of the worst criminals on earth and then turning on them, or even that he looked like he’d be more at home in a prison yard or a biker bar than he had in that ballroom last night—even in the tux. It was what his instincts told him about Jack Daggery. Luke had seen bigger men, even uglier men, but he’d never been around anyone who felt as dangerous as the man whose voice he heard outside the door.

  Luke shelved his reservations and ushered the men into the observation room. “Glad you two could make it. Thanks for coming down. I’d like you to help me question him.” Turning to Dagger, he said, “That the fella who gave you the tip? Goes by the name of Thorne.”

  “Fella, huh? You sure, Lieutenant?”

  “That’s what my officers assure me. I’d hate to think a girl gave my man that shiner he’s gonna be sporting full by tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s who gave me the tip, anyway.” Dagger nodded. “Doesn’t look too happy to be here.”

  The three of them listened to the prisoner invoking curses that would have made a cowboy blush. The kid was sweating and fighting the cuffs so hard Luke could see blood on his wrists. The chair finally toppled with its occupant. The new position appeared to kick Thorne’s agitation up another notch.

  “Find anything at his place?” Paul asked, a frown on his face as he watched.

  “Just this laptop and a few hundred dollars in cash. No ID or credit cards, nothing. Who the hell lives like that these days? Doesn’t even have a cell phone. But look at this laptop. I’ve never even seen one this nice before. You can’t tell me he paid for this with cash from catering jobs. I don’t care if it was the only thing of value in that rat trap.”

  “Well, I suppose we’d better get in there before he really hurts himself.” Luke allowed himself an exasperated sigh while he wondered what had his prisoner so worked up.

  When they entered the room, he pulled out the handcuff key. Besides the lacerated wrists, there were sure to be some fresh bruises from the fall. Time to play good cop.

  “Well, Thorne, if you can behave yourself I’ll remove these. Think you can do that?”

  “Better than that fucking wimp bastard Griggs.”

  Luke didn’t like anything about that comment or the doubts that were forming in his mind about what his officer might have done. But he said, “Griggs took one for the team as far as I’m concerned. You were just wanted for questioning, but now you’re charged with assaulting an officer and I can keep you. You’re entitled to a lawyer. Want one?”

  “I know my rights—”

  Shit, Luke hated those words. A lawyer would only make it harder to get to the truth.

  “—and I know the criminal justice system. A lawyer? Don’t make me fucking laugh. Please, just take the cuffs off.”

  Something about the tone of that “please” made Luke feel guilty. Well, the kid had hurt himself; he had no one else to blame for those cuts.

  “That’s a start.” Luke unlocked the cuffs, slipped them into an evidence bag, and pulled Thorne off the floor. Yup, pretty damn solid. He was surprised when it was Dagger who stepped up and righted the chair. “Have a seat, son. Care to tell me the rest of your name?”

  “Thank you.” Thorne perched on the edge of the chair and pulled the sweater sleeves down to his fingertips instead of answering.

  Luke sighed. “How come you don’t have a driver’s license? An ID at least. It’s illegal, you know.”

  “So write me a ticket.” He shrugged. “I don’t drive. Too easily distracted, or so I’ve been told. It would be better if your boys had let me bring my knitting.”

  Luke saw Paul and Dagger’s eyebrows raise.

  “More practical applications than basket weaving. More portable, too.” The kid looked perfectly serious.

  “Will you at least verify for me that I’m talking to a man?” Luke’s patience was getting used up fast.

  “What fucking difference does it make?”

  Thorne’s head swiveled to look at Dagger. “Well, if it isn’t my pal, Judas. I was just thinking how glad I am that I trusted you, and in you stroll. How’s it hangin’? No good deed and all that, huh? Did you muff it or is everybody okay? Who’s that guy you’re with? Buzz Lightyear? How come you’re partners but he’s the boss?”

  Luke thought Thorne was taunting the devil’s own until he saw Dagger flinch.

  “I’m Lieutenant Rigby. Never mind who he is.” Luke nodded toward Paul, who did kind of resemble Buzz Lightyear, now that he thought about it. Paul was a big, muscular man with cropped blond hair and an honest look to him.

  “Just what exa
ctly do you know about Blackridge?” Dagger seemed to have found his voice and narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward.

  Luke was sure the kid would break now. Who the hell wouldn’t?

  But he just shook his purple head and leaned toward Dagger. “If you ask me one goddamn intelligent, worthwhile question, I’ll fucking answer it.”

  It was Luke’s turn to be speechless.

  Thank God Paul still had his voice. “What do you know about the kidnapping attempt? What’s your connection?” Paul stood up and came around the table.

  Luke wished he could hire his friend. Paul was one hell of an interrogator. Not as scary as Dagger, but that worked both ways.

  Only Thorne looked him straight in the eye, too. “Finally. Kidnapping? So that’s what it was. There is no connection. I just see things sometimes. ‘Attempt.’ So no one was hurt?”

  “You’re not the one asking questions here. Have you always had these visions?” Paul bit out the first sentence, laced the second with sarcasm and took another step toward Thorne.

  “No, not always…” Thorne’s voice went soft and rough and trailed off, but he didn’t look away.

  Luke jumped in, his voice back, patience all but gone. “What? Do we look like suckers to you? Was your former boss in on it?”

  Thorne flashed a crooked smile and there was just enough of a pause to make a point before he said, “That dickless wonder? He couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a fucking spotlight.”

  Luke heard Dagger’s muffled snort. Was the kid actually getting to him?

  So much for Good Cop. His patience was all gone now anyway. “You’re making it awfully hard for me to help you. Maybe a night in lockup will help gather your thoughts, Thorne.”

  “No. Please. I can’t stand…I’ve told you everything I know, I swear. I’ll do community service for Griggs’s little lesson. Whatever you want. Just, please, don’t lock me up.”

  Again, there was something to the tone and change of attitude that made Luke hesitate. Thorne was sweating again; he was probably claustrophobic.

  Luke pulled out another pair of cuffs and could just barely see Thorne’s eyes squeeze shut behind the glasses’ dark lenses. He’d give the kid one last chance.

  “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “Because you’ll regret it.”

  “Are you threatening me? Your daddy someone who thinks he’s important?” Luke straightened, tiring of the seesawing emotions this little asshole was putting him through.

  “No, you’ll regret it because you’re Captain fucking America. You’re one of the good guys. So I’ll give one for that. When you hand my laptop over to the tech, make sure it gets hooked up stand-alone. Under no circumstances do you want it anywhere near a network you give a shit about. Understand?”

  He frowned and nodded.

  “Oh, and Captain? Don’t call her. Just kiss the hell out of her. Talking is what got you in trouble in the first place.”

  Luke looked directly at Paul, who just shrugged and shook his head. What the hell? Since when had his girlfriend problems become public knowledge?

  “It’s Lieutenant Rigby, Thorne.” He was none too gentle when he cuffed Thorne’s hands behind his back and turned him over to Griggs.

  “Holding, private cell. Men’s side, I guess, if it makes any difference.” He said it sarcastically and looked over. But Thorne’s head was bowed and turned away, avoiding him. “And have someone treat those lacerations.”

  Why in the hell was he feeling guilty? That little prick had pushed him, and Luke had every right to hold him. There was no reason he should be feeling the way he did.

  Once they were alone in the room, Luke turned back to Paul and Dagger. “Thanks for coming. The Tierneys should give you guys a medal. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  He held up the cuffs in the evidence bag. “Guy in the DNA lab owes me. If Thorne’s in CODIS, which I expect he is after that crack about the system, I’ll know the specifics tomorrow morning. In any case, I expect his memory will improve overnight.” He winked at Paul and defied the whisper of his conscience. “And I’ll be damned if I regret it.”

  * * * *

  The prick of guilt in Dagger’s gut stirred and grew. Thorne’s “Judas” remark had hit home, had reminded him why he’d hated working undercover. And there was no question, either, that the kid was being punished for a good deed, just like he’d said. If Thorne had kept quiet, the girl would be dead and Thorne would be doing whatever it was Thorne did.

  Damn. The kid had to be involved with the kidnappers. It was the only reasonable explanation. But what about the other shit Thorne had seemed to know about, like Dagger’s arrangement with Paul at Blackridge? And what the hell was that about Lieutenant Rigby’s girlfriend? What the hell?

  Dagger cracked the window and tried to let the noise of downtown Seattle midday traffic push his thoughts away while the damp, frosty air assaulted his face. Paul just glanced at him from the driver’s seat before turning his eyes back to the road, probably already working through some snag at the office.

  But not Dagger. No, he was still wasting precious brain cells on that damn kid.

  Brakes squealed, a horn blared, and someone braved the weather to tell another driver what he could do with his cell phone.

  Dagger couldn’t stop the grin. One thing was for sure: the kid was funny. The lieutenant did remind him of the old comic book hero, Captain America. As for Paul looking like Buzz Lightyear—well, that was hilarious; but Dagger figured it was best not to mention that to Paul.

  His grin faded. Then there was the whole he/she thing. Thorne looked like a boy, sounded like a man, and cussed like a barroom full of bikers, but still…What had him more mystified than anything, though, was why, of all the people—besides Paul—on God’s cold, wet, gray earth, wasn’t the little freak afraid of him?

  Chapter Three

  Luke scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin and took another swallow of what passed for coffee in his office while he opened the file on his screen. He’d had trouble falling asleep last night and the guy at the lab had called early with a hit in CODIS. Before it was even done loading, one of the geek squad had walked through his open door. Luke couldn’t remember the kid’s name. They all looked the same to him.

  “Oh good, Lieutenant, you’re in.”

  “Yup.” A real Einstein, this one.

  “I’ve been here all night.” There was a pause, as if the speaker was hoping for some kind of praise. When it didn’t come, he went on. “Thanks for telling me to keep that laptop off the network. There’s no way we’d even have one if I hadn’t. I doubt the state of Washington would, either, if it had been connected.” He paused again, as if for effect this time and Luke found himself getting crankier, if that was possible.

  “Some kind of guard-dog virus, a really vicious one,” the geek went on, breathless now. “I think it was protecting an encryption code, but I never had a chance to give it more than a glance before the virus kicked in. It was so fast.”

  The boy looked far too impressed for Luke’s liking.

  “Are you telling me that you don’t have anything for me?” Luke didn’t even have to try to sound pissed.

  “I’m telling you, Lieutenant, that whoever wrote this was good—like, a-handful-of-people-in-this-country good. I graduated Stanford, top honors…” Again, he waited for approval that didn’t come and he seemed at a loss for words until his head bobbed back up, “Any chance I could meet him? I’d love to pick the brain that wrote that virus.”

  “I have a feeling you wouldn’t get past the front door, son,” Luke said, and looked pointedly at his door until the geek left.

  Luke returned to the now fully-loaded CODIS file on his monitor, but stopped reading after the first page to stare out the window and watch the early working crowd moving down the street, so blissfully unaware of the monsters that lurked among them.

  Two minutes ago, he’d been one of the good guys. Just a po
or slob trying to get to the truth and put those monsters away. Now he was wishing Paul had never called him. Wishing even more he hadn’t become personally involved in the case. Wishing most of all that he hadn’t locked Thorne up yesterday. He’d said he’d be damned if he regretted it and now he felt he had been, probably for all eternity.

  A hesitant knock at his open door drew his gaze from the window. A young officer stood there biting her lip, the smell of burning coffee wafting in with her, ominous.

  Luke’s sigh sounded more like a groan.

  “Lieutenant Rigby, sir. It’s Thorne, she’s…”

  “She? How did you find that out?” The coffee he’d drunk was suddenly rolling around his empty stomach and Luke found himself wishing he’d grabbed a donut or something before throwing the bitter brew down. The young officer was beside herself. Nothing about this was good; it could only be bad and getting worse by the minute.

  “Well, sir, Griggs put him—er, her—in Holding. Private, like you said. There’s a camera in there, you know.”

  Luke nodded. For crying out loud, of course he knew. But he could see that he was going to have to be patient if he was going to hear this story anytime soon. Was he too young to start keeping a flask in his drawer?

  With a lot of stopping and starting, the officer went on to tell him that Thorne had just curled up in a ball in the middle of the cell and rocked herself all through the afternoon, evening and night, not stopping or acknowledging the food that was left for her.

  “When I came in this morning at four and asked Griggs, he just shook his head and pointed to the camera, told me she still hadn’t gotten up. I know I’m not supposed to watch the private men’s cells, but no one had come in yet to relieve Griggs and…Well, anyway, when she used the toilet she sat down and it wasn’t long enough for…and when she got up, I saw…um, didn’t see, um…”

  Luke nodded again. “I get the picture.”

  “What with the early hour and all the cutbacks, there wasn’t anyone around to help me, but jeez, you know, I didn’t think I could just leave her there. I mean, it’s the men’s side and there’s no real privacy. The perps in the cell next to her were still sleeping, but—and no one had treated those cuts on her wrists yet.” The officer’s voice rose at the end of the statement, making it sound like a plea.