A Woman of Valor, page 6
Valorie sighed and crawled under her covers. “Mulligan, you guard the door,” she whispered. He smiled back. Mulligan always smiled and always kept her safe.
Downstairs, Dad mentioned the guest room. Crap! The room right next to Valorie’s. Milt probably snored really loud, too.
The front door slammed shut, the car pulled away, and she could hear only the blaring of the television.
Then footsteps, plodding on the stairs...
A thin crease of light crept under her door from the hall. The toilet flushed, and the light grew brighter and dimmer again. Quiet reigned for several seconds. Then, footsteps again.
Too many footsteps. Six, seven, eight. But the guest room was only three or four steps from the bathroom.
A shadow appeared outside her door. Two shadows, actually. Feet. She shut her eyes, pulled up her covers—
A tiny bell rang. Valorie’s eyes sprang open. The door swung wide. A large shadow filled the doorway, framed by the dim glow of the ceiling lamp from down the hall. The shadow became the figure of a man, six feet tall, heavy, with a fringe of hair around his balding head.
“Milt?” She shivered under her blanket. “I think you’re in the wrong place. The guest room is—”
“My dear Valley Girl,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re still awake.”
Chapter Seven
Val stiffened at the touch of the doctor’s ice-cold stethoscope on her skin, her gasp audible enough to elicit a comforting smile from the young nurse recording her vitals on an iPad. Val inched away from her on the examination table, crinkling its paper cover loud enough to drown out the hum of the nearby stack of computers and monitors.
“Are you experiencing pain there?” asked Dr. Kim, a forty-something Asian woman whose tortoise-shell glasses seemed to hold her long, silver-speckled hair in place behind her ears. “I tried to avoid the obvious bruises, but they don’t always show.”
“No, no,” Val said. “It’s just a little cold. Can I put my clothes back on?” She pulled the paper-thin gown closer and hugged herself for warmth. Why doctors always kept examination rooms so frigid, she’d never understand.
“We’re almost done.” Dr. Kim gave her a polite smile. “Breathe deeply for me, slowly. That’s good.” She jotted down another note, set her clipboard aside, and removed her glasses, letting them rest against her chest. “Based on what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’ve suffered any serious internal injuries,” Dr. Kim said, “but we’ll take some X-rays to make sure. I think a CAT scan might also help us out here. You may have a concussion from that blow to your head, so we’ll want to keep an eye on that for a few days. I’ll write up a work release that you can give to your superiors.”
Val’s mood brightened. “So I can return to work tomorrow?” she said.
The nurse, a young Latina with bright red lipstick that contrasted with her light brown skin, laughed out loud this time, earning her a stern glance from Dr. Kim. The nurse took a step away from Val and busied herself with her iPad.
“A work release means you can take time off,” Dr. Kim said with a smile, this time a genuine one. She stood only a hair over five feet tall, if that, and had to look up to meet Val’s eyes. “So you can heal before returning to duty.”
“So, it’s optional?” Val asked. “I’d rather just go back to work, if it’s up to me.”
Dr. Kim and the nurse exchanged puzzled glances, then the doctor returned her attention to Val. “It’s up to you, of course,” she said. “Why don’t we see what the X-rays and CAT scan tell us?”
Val sighed. If only her doctors had been this thorough when she’d needed them to be, ten years earlier. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.” She followed the nurse down the hall. They passed a waiting room filled with clusters of people standing and staring at mute TV screens.
“Look!” A boy of about twelve pointed at Val. “It’s her!”
Val glanced back at the boy, giving him a quizzical look. The boy grinned and pointed to the TV screen above his head, which displayed two faces, side by side: Brian Samuels, the policeman who had been shot—and Val’s. The caption on the screen read, “Clayton police injured in domestic violence response.”
A girl standing next to the boy, a few years younger and bearing a family resemblance, ran up to Val. “Can I have your autograph?” she asked in a meek voice, holding out a coloring book and a crayon.
Val took the book from her, warmth flushing her skin. Protocol probably forbade such gestures, but she couldn’t bring herself to say no. “What’s your name?” she asked the girl.
“Autumn,” the girl said. She took the signed book back from Val and hugged it close to her chest. “I want to be a policewoman when I’m old enough, just like you!” She skipped back to her family, showing off her new prize.
Val lowered her head and followed her nurse down the hall. Maybe a day off wouldn’t be a bad idea.
A few steps before they entered the radiology lab, the familiar face of a young girl burst from another examination room, accompanied by an African-American woman in scrubs and a nameplate reading, “Dr. T. Phillips.”
“Antoinetta!” Val rushed toward her. A sad smile broke across the girl’s tear-streaked face. She threw her arms around Val in a bone-crushing hug. Val grunted in pain, but the girl’s grip only tightened. Maybe she had cracked a rib, after all.
“Are you okay?” Val asked her, breaking the embrace and cupping the girl’s face in her hands. “Are they taking good care of you?”
Antoinetta’s grin disappeared and her gaze fell to the floor. “Si,” Antoinetta said. “Can I go home now?” She teared up again and buried her face in Val’s chest.
“Could I have a word with you, Officer?” Dr. Phillips asked, a worried expression on her face. She signaled to Val’s nurse, who slid closer and wrapped an arm around Antoinetta’s shoulders. Val gave Antoinetta another quick hug and followed the doctor across the hallway, out of earshot.
“Antoinetta is reluctant to let us administer the rape kit,” Dr. Phillips said. “She keeps saying she did nothing wrong, which is true, but she has it in her head that we’re blaming her for all of this.”
“Did her mother give the okay?” Val asked.
“She did, but the patient also has to be willing,” Dr. Phillips said. “But she respects you so much, so...”
“Give me a few minutes with her,” Val said. She returned to Antoinetta and led her by the hand up the hallway to the waiting area. They sat facing each other on adjacent seats. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Okay,” Antoinetta said in a dull voice. “But I want to go home.”
“You will, soon,” Val said. “The doctors need to check to make sure you’re okay. They can’t always tell just by looking at you.” She spoke in a slow, measured pace. “They need to check your insides, too. It’s standard procedure.”
The girl's eyes welled with tears. “I didn’t do anything malo, I swear.”
“I know, honey,” Val said. “But maybe Mr. Harkins did?”
Antoinetta stared at her, tears streaming from each eye, but said nothing.
“Don’t you think we ought to find out?” Val asked.
Tears flowed like open faucets down the girl’s face. She shook her head. “He...he told me...if I tell anyone...” She broke into sobs and pulled her hands free, covering her face.
Val’s heart ached for the girl. She knew Antoinetta’s feelings of fear and shame well. All too well.
***
“Say it!” the man said, his voice a nasty hiss, so harsh it made her jump. His hand pressed down on the back of her neck, gripping her with too much force. She shook her head.
“Out. Loud!” He pushed at her head. It hurt.
She tried to take a breath, but inhaled only pillow. She wheezed, an awful sound. He loosened his grip, and she gasped air into her lungs.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said with a moan, choking on the words.
“Good girl,” he said. “I know you won’t. Because you don’t want to get in trouble, do you? You know what people think about girls who do what you do.”
***
“Antoinetta,” Val said in a low voice, shaking off the ancient memory, “when I was a girl about your age, a man did something terrible to m—my friend,” she said. “Someone I knew well. A terrible thing. And do you know what happened to that man?”
Antoinetta lifted her head, shook it.
“Nothing,” Val said. “Because my friend was afraid to tell anyone. Her family, her friends, anyone. She wouldn’t even admit it to me.” Her voice caught on this truth, one she’d feared admitting all of her life. “Not for a long time, anyway. And when she did tell the people close to her, it was too late. The police could no longer collect the evidence, and the man went free.”
Antoinetta blinked tears from her eyes. “Did they ever catch him?” she asked.
Val’s shoulders trembled. “No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They never did. They never punished the man for what he did to...my friend.”
Antoinetta lowered her own voice. “What happened to the girl?” she asked. “Is she all right?”
Air whooshed from Val's lips. “She suffered,” she said, “for the rest of her life. She always wished she’d said something sooner, so the police could have caught and punished the man, and made sure he never came near her again.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Do you think...Señor Harkins might come back?”
“Maybe.” Val choked on the reality of her answer. “Unless we can prove what he did. Which is what the doctors want to help us do.”
A long moment passed. Antoinetta’s tears stopped, and a look of steely resolve swept over her face. “If you catch him,” she said, “what will you do to him?”
Val squeezed her hand. “We’ll prosecute him and put him in prison for a long time.”
Antoinetta’s face curled into an angry snarl. “Just prison?” she said. “Eso es todo?”
“I’m afraid so,” Val said, her heart sinking. “But prison is an awful—”
“If you catch him and he tried to get away,” Antoinetta said, “can’t you shoot him, like they do on TV?”
Val’s breath caught in her throat. “What you see on TV is not always what happens in real life,” she said. “We try not to shoot people unless they’re threatening the lives of others.”
“What if he runs away?” the girl asked.
“Well...sometimes, but—”
“I hope,” Antoinetta said in a menacing voice, “that when you find him, he tries to get away. And when he does, I hope you shoot off his little bicho!” She left a stunned Val seated on the bench and returned to Dr. Phillips, nodding in response to the doctor’s question. She gave Val a thumbs-up and disappeared with the doctor into an examination room.
***
Radiology showed no cracked ribs or internal organ damage. Gil met her in the waiting room and spread his arms for a hug, but she grabbed his hands and squeezed them instead.
“Still sore,” she said, averting her eyes. “Have you been waiting here all this time?”
He nodded, with what she interpreted as a slight pout on his face. “I wasn’t going to let my partner walk out of a cold hospital without an escort,” he said. “What’s the prognosis?”
She grimaced. “I’ll live. They wanted me to take time off, but I, uh, misplaced the doctor’s note already. How’s Samuels doing?”
Gil’s face turned grave. “He’s still in surgery. The doc was hopeful, though. Nothing major got hit, but he lost a fair amount of blood.” His expression brightened. “You saved his life, Val. So far, anyway.”
Her face grew warm and she shook her head, strolling toward the exit. “The medics saved him. What’s the word on Harkins?”
“He’s still on the run. But we’ll get him.” Gil put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. “Val, I’m serious. You did impressive work at that scene tonight. I’ve seen those standoffs go on for hours. Had that happened, Samuels would be at the morgue instead of ER.”
“Not such good work,” she said. “Harkins got away.”
“We’ll get him,” Gil said. “Stop changing the subject. I’m putting you in for a commendation and a medal—no, don’t interrupt me. You earned it. Okay?”
The warmth in her face turned to fire. “Anyone would have done the same.”
He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stop walking and face him. “Not everyone, Val. And even if everyone did, it’s still amazing and brave stuff. Look, the work we do is hard and dangerous, and we don’t get thanked very often for it. That’ll wear on you after a while, trust me. So when you do get a little recognition, don’t spit on it, okay? Learn to take it and appreciate it.”
He drove her home in silence. Val’s mind raced from Antoinetta to Harkins and back to Gil’s comments. They arrived at her apartment a few minutes before three in the morning, the end of their shift. Gil parked the cruiser in front of her building, turned off the engine, and looked toward her. She stared straight ahead, through the windshield, her side still aching from the bruises Harkins had dealt her. He exhaled loudly, his hands still on the wheel, waiting. A car droned by, and a light sprinkle of rain drizzled the windshield. Static buzzed on the radio, its sound turned low. The cruiser’s headlights stayed on, shining bright circles of yellow light on the road.
She turned toward him and found his dark brown eyes gazing upon her. How long he’d been staring, she had no idea. At first he looked fierce, with his square jaw, stubbly beard, and slight frown. But his expression softened into a reassuring smile, and he kept his hands to himself, unlike most guys who’d gotten her alone in cars at night.
She should say something, she supposed.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said. “And for your support, and...well, everything.”
His smiled broadened. “Anytime, partner.”
Another car swished by, kicking up the moisture from the wet pavement.
“Well, I...guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, grabbing the door handle.
He shook his head. “Stay home tomorrow. You’ve earned a day off.”
“Pfft! I took worse blows from clumsy soccer players and stayed in the game. I won’t let this slow me down.”
Gil laughed. “You’re something else, you know that?” He shook his head and stared at the steering wheel, fumbling with the keys in the ignition. Then he looked up. “Okay, I tell you what. I’ll recommend a few days of light duty for you. It’ll give you a chance to catch up on paperwork and maybe do some digging on this perp, Harkins. We need to track him down, and we’re not going to do it by looking in every low-income apartment building in the city. Sound fair?”
She considered it. She’d always done well with research projects. Anything that helped get a child molester off the streets sounded worthwhile. “Okay, partner. You’ve got a deal.”
She tiptoed through her apartment so as to not wake Beth and plopped onto her bed, only to bounce back up, howling in pain. She’d already forgotten about the bruises. Damn that pervert Harkins!
For the next hour, she lay in bed, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. She vowed to find the man who’d hurt that little girl, and make him pay for what he’d done.
Chapter Eight
Val entered Friendly’s, a tiny coffee-and-sandwich shop on Edgewood Drive across from City Park, and searched for Brenda Petroni, the self-defense trainer from the academy. Before she’d finished scanning the room, a tall, willowy blonde jumped up from a corner booth. “Shannon O’Reilly,” the blonde said, her hand outstretched. “Brenda invited me to join you both for lunch today. You’re Val Dawes, right?”
“How is it that everyone seems to know who I am?” Val accepted the handshake, but stood rooted in place. “Did somebody put a ‘rookie female cop’ sign on my back?”
Shannon laughed. “I knew your uncle,” she said. “We worked on a few cases together before I made detective and moved downtown to Missing Persons. He kept a picture of you on his desk.”
Val’s eyes opened wider. Shannon didn’t look old enough to have served with Uncle Val. Lean and fair-skinned, she had no wrinkles on her face, even around her eyes or mouth.
Shannon laughed again. “I’m thirty-five, in case you’re wondering,” she said. “And yes, I still get carded.”
“Lucky you.” Val waved at Brenda walking in the door. Dressed in street clothes, she appeared even stockier than when in uniform.
“It’s less of an advantage than you‘d think in our line of work,” Shannon said, once they’d located a booth away from the hordes of screaming children. “It’s hard enough for most women to get taken seriously as a cop. When you look twenty-one, you might as well wear a dunce cap all day. Oh, and did you somehow miss the blonde hair?”
“That’s reassuring to hear,” Val said. “I was beginning to think they saved it all for me.”
“Honey, welcome to the party-crashers at the old boys club,” Brenda said with a sneer. “Most of these guys think we should all be home raising babies and cooking meatloaf for our hard-working, brave husbands in uniform.”
“It’s even worse when a woman makes sergeant, like Brenda here.” Shannon thanked the waiter for their coffees. “It’s bad enough we’re taking their jobs, as they see it, and ‘pretending’ to be their equals. When they actually have to follow orders from us, forget it. The shit you take from your peers on patrol will seem like a celebration in your honor by comparison.”
“Ugh.” Val fought down the image of her fellow academy cadets’ sneering faces and could barely sip her coffee. But then she considered Gil and shook her head. “That doesn’t translate into a lack of backup on the street, does it? I mean, if you’re in a dangerous situation—”
“No, then it’s the reverse. Totally patronizing,” Brenda said. “They never let a woman take the lead and they’re always trying to shield us from difficult situations. Half the time I was on patrol, they treated me like I was in their way. There are exceptions, like your uncle, your partner Kryzinski, and a few others. But out of 300 men on the force, you’ll be lucky to find two dozen who will treat you as an equal.”
