the cops are pulling her in and looking for that loser she’s hooked up with.” The man headed to the front of the store at a rapid clip.
“Are you arresting me?”
Brock’s head whipped around at Cynthia’s question. “We just need to get some answers and our information is down at the station. You’ve been so helpful so far. We do appreciate you taking time away from your business to answer our questions again. We just have to dot some I's and cross a few T's.”
The woman pushed herself on her scooter, her casted ankle dangling off the back. “Well anything I can do, but I don’t understand why I need to go down to your office.”
“We need you to write an official statement. The same thing you told us, but official. No worries.”
“Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Perfect. If you go with this officer, we’ll meet you downtown.” Kallie handed her over to a young officer who courteously assisted her into her coat that was on a peg by the back door. Brock motioned for the other officer.
When he got close enough, he whispered. “Don’t know where she falls in this case. We’ll sort that when we get to the precinct. You or your partner stay on that woman. She needs to be isolated and kept at the precinct. Do not let her leave.”
“Roger that.”
The older patrolman headed to the door, and he joined Kallie. “My bullshit meter is chiming.” He sent her a quick look as they walked back to the front of the store where Eric was apologizing to a line of customers who had formed. They hopped the counter again and headed to the Crown Vic.
“What was the address on Dawson’s apartment building?”
Kallie rifled through her notebook after fastening her seatbelt. “989 East Lancaster Avenue, Apartment 5C. Cynthia’s apartment is 1A.”
"She said she fell down the stairs at her apartment. Maybe he pushed her when she left his apartment?" Kallie's brow drew together. She was thinking out loud, but he wasn't buying that premise anymore.
He glanced at her. “Tell me I’m not the only one catching the Jekyll and Hyde routine that woman had going on.”
Kallie nodded. “I keep falling back on the fact that abused women act differently around their abusers. But yeah, I’m getting an uneasy feeling. Like I missed something.”
“We missed something. This isn’t a single person investigation.” He glanced over at her before he put the car into gear and headed to Lancaster Avenue. It was a fifteen-minute drive when traffic didn’t suck. Unfortunately, the suckage was extreme on this particular morning.
“What the literal fuck? Why is there so much traffic?”
“What’s today?” His brain did a mental rolodex of city activities.
“Saturday.”
“Shit. The Mustangs. Damn it.” He glanced over at her and laughed at her raised eyebrows. “They are the Division One college team in town. Damn it, today is the big rivalry game. Fuck, no wonder we have traffic. People are trying to avoid traffic around the college and stadium which dropped them into fringes of The Desert.” He flipped his lights on and pushed his way across three lanes of traffic before cutting through East Central on his way to Lancaster. Once they were away from the main flow of traffic, he was able to make decent time. They drove up to the front of the building, and he jammed the nose of the Vic into a vacant area near a fire hydrant.
“We go in the same fashion. Get him to come down voluntarily if we can, and discover what the actual fuck is going on.” Brock took her hand. “Watch your six. I don’t like the vibe I’m getting.”
“I’ll take care of my ass. You make sure you don’t get yours shot off. I haven’t had enough time to admire it.” He did a double take in her direction, and she winked at him. They stood silently, staring at each other in the elevator. The door opened, breaking the connection. They strode down the hallway to Dawson's apartment. Brock knocked on the door. "Dawson Jenkins, Detectives King and Redman. We need to speak to you."
There was a muffled bump in the apartment and then a slow shuffle toward the door. From behind the door, Dawson spoke. "I'm not feeling well, Detective. Can we do this another time?"
"I'm afraid not. We need to talk. Now." Brock stared at Kallie as he spoke. It took several seconds, but the deadbolt turned, and the door cracked open. Kallie pushed the door open. What greeted