ambulance to the nearby hospital.
And he stayed until the doctors told him the little girl would be okay.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A WEEK AFTER THEY’D found Rebecca Hyatt, the little girl Michael Callahan had kidnapped, Simon sat at his desk in SIG’s detective pit. He finished typing up his report on the Cann murder, stuck it in the folder and filed it along with the other “as-of-yet unsolved” crimes that would be occasionally looked at but otherwise relegated to the back burner. Between Simon and DeMarco, they’d followed every lead and interviewed everyone they could think of, patrol cops included, but had come up empty. Add the fact that their only witness, Rita Taylor, had recanted her statement about Cann’s killer being a cop—she now insisted that what she’d thought was a police uniform might actually have been that of a city bus driver or air-conditioning repairman—and it was time to move on to the next case. First, however, he had to do the final report on the Michael Callahan incident.
In front of him laid the daily newspaper from the day after the event. He’d seen the article when it had come out. He’d kept a copy to add to the file. Now, he skimmed the article again and cursed.
Doc Finds Child but Public Suspicion of Police Continues
The article was chock-full of information. First, it detailed several recent incidents between police and mentally ill suspects, some of whom had been homeless, and all of whom had claimed police brutality. Next, it referred to the murder of Mr. Cann, a homeless veteran, and the “rumor” that a cop had been responsible, though thankfully it didn’t identify Rita Taylor as a potential witness. Finally, the article touched on Rebecca Hyatt’s rescue, though again the reporter had been smart enough not to include the little girl’s name.
He’d had no such qualms about Simon. Or Nina Whitaker. Or Officer Rieger or Michael Callahan. According to Callahan’s parents, their son was schizophrenic and hadn’t meant to harm anyone, and they were grateful Nina had been able to work with him to find the girl’s location; funny how people didn’t mind exposing skeletons if doing so meant it might keep a loved one out of jail.
Taking everything into account, the article had managed to do what the reporter had intended: make San Francisco law enforcement look like a bunch of blundering fools who couldn’t distinguish their asses from a hole in the ground without the help of a damn shrink.
Yes, Nina Whitaker had helped them find the little girl, but the newspaper made her sound like a miracle worker. Worst yet, a miracle worker whose involvement was necessary in order to overcome the shortcomings of local police, when the only shortcoming in this particular situation had been Michael Callahan’s. As much as Nina would say that shortcoming had been caused by illness, it was no excuse. Even assuming Callahan had been trying to save the little girl from aliens? He’d almost killed her. Besides, the only one who’d ever know if Callahan really believed aliens had been after the girl was Callahan. What a crock. Simon had seen enough to know that Callahan had probably been motivated by far less altruistic desires.
Slapping the newspaper clipping on the top of his “To Be Filed” mound of paperwork, Simon started on the final report. Unfortunately, it didn’t have his full attention. His mind kept wandering back to Nina, just like it had all week.
She was beautiful, sure, but she had a strength and spirit that eerily reminded him of Lana’s. On the one hand, that called to him. On the other, it made him sick. He couldn’t help thinking that the same spirit he admired was going to get her in trouble one day. Maybe not in as much trouble as it had gotten Lana, but...
Move on, Granger, he told himself. Lana and Nina Whitaker were both in his past. He needed to focus on the present and the future, and do his job—keeping people safe from the criminals Nina Whitaker wanted to heal and treat.
He’d just finished the final report on the Callahan incident when he felt an itch between his shoulder blades. When he looked up, he thought he must be hallucinating. First he’d read about her in the paper. Then he’d struggled to keep her from his thoughts.
He needn’t have bothered.
Nina Whitaker stood in front of him.
Shit, he thought, but his curse was mostly in response to the way his body immediately zinged to life. Feigning an annoyance