“Listen, people, we want to help our guys in West Hollywood, but we stand a better chance finding answers here,” Gabby said.
Their investigation of Claudette’s unit was delayed when news of the Hive nightclub attack hit their rovers and phones. First bulletin was all hands-on deck, but Chen told them to wait for further instructions before abandoning their scene. They cooled their heels for twenty minutes and when Gabby tried to raise Chen again and their watch officer, all lines were clogged.
Text messages weren’t being delivered and calls weren’t connecting. The Hive nightclub attack must have sparked an overload of cell and data service.
There were four officers remaining at their scene; two accompanied Gabby and Kelso, while the other two continued to try and reach Chen. As they approached Claudette’s townhouse, Kelso signaled the rest to switch off their radios and mute their phones. Gabby held out the handheld-motion radar device used to detect movement through the door. It was another high-tech piece of equipment that was quietly being used by their division, but not advertised because it was a hot topic for civil liberties advocates. With the warrant, their team was less apprehensive about using it and the safety of everyone involved was priority. She nodded at her partner to go ahead.
Kelso gave three sharp raps on the door.
Seconds passed. No sounds from within could be heard and no movement on her radar.
“Ms. Dumont, this is Detective Kelso. We need a word with you, please.”
After twenty seconds. “Ms. Dumont, we have a warrant to search your townhouse. We will be entering the premises.”
Kelso signaled to Gabby to open the door. She pocketed the radar and pushed the door open. The safety wasn’t engaged. They gestured at the two cops to be on alert as everyone drew their weapons.
Gabby entered first. Her partner, being taller, had the flashlight at full glare, ready to blind whomever might have a weapon pointed at them.
She had her own flashlight supported under her gun hand as they moved from room to room. There was a sink full of dirty dishes, blood on the floor, and overturned tables and chairs strewn around. A sign of a struggle.
After clearing the first floor, Gabby turned to the stairs and headed up. It had always been their play with her going first and low, because Kelso being bigger would block any shot made by Gabby. She was lucky enough that her partner was man enough to let a woman take the lead if it meant a better tactical plan. Flattening against the wall and slowly ascending the stairs, she made a forward signal with her hand, indicating for Kelso to check the other rooms as she entered the first bedroom. From the jeans and shirts strewn on the floor, she knew it wasn’t Claudette’s room. She aimed her flashlight at the bathroom and saw a trail of blood and a bloodied white tee. Looked like it was Logan’s partner who killed him but didn’t escape unscathed himself. Why leave evidence?
“Woodward!”
The urgency of Kelso’s voice had her dashing out of the room and into the next one. Her partner had turned on the lights, but was nowhere in sight. She heard movements in the bathroom and headed straight there. The smell of something rank hit her nose.
In the bathtub was Claudette, deathly white, her lips bloodless, with vomit dried up on her chin and clumping chunks of her blond hair.
“Oh my God, Claudette,” Gabby whispered as she crouched down beside Kelso, staring at the woman and taking an inventory of her possible injuries. There were some finger marks on her arm and visible needle bruises.
She had on a nightie, no panties. There were no bruises on her legs, thank God.
Kelso checked for a pulse.
“Except for the marks on her arms, there are no other visible injuries or trauma. They made her sit up so she wouldn’t choke on her vomit,” Kelso muttered.
“They forcibly drugged her?”
“Looks like it.” He patted her cheek a couple of times. “Ms. Dumont, can you hear me?”
A low moan escaped Claudette’s lips. It was rare that she saw her ex-stepmother without makeup. Rarer still for her hair to be tangled and filthy as it was now.
“Don’t touch me,” the other woman whispered.
“We’re here to help you. Remember me? Gabby’s partner?”
“Leave me alone.”
Gabby beat back the stab of sympathy. It was there, but she had to remember that Claudette had brought this on herself and had to treat her like a job. And as