False Prophet

“They’re having fun.”

“It’s getting dark. They’re going to get lost.”

“They’ll be fine, darlin’. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”

“All right,” Decker groused. “I can see you won’t relax until I go after them. I won’t even bother to change my clothes. Will that make you happy, Rina?”

“If your arm—” She stopped herself. “Yes, that will make me happy, Peter.”

“Swell.” He planted a kiss on her forehead and muttered as he walked away. But inside he was thrilled that she’d given him an excuse to saddle up. And no White Diamond for Cowboy Pete. The hell with the pain, he was going for Cobra, the biggest damn stallion in the stable. Up on the mount—man, he was king. But damned if he’d tell Rina how he felt. He’d emoted enough for one day.

8

What better way to start the day than with a bowl of wheat flakes and twenty-five files of registered sex offenders. As Decker scanned the rap sheets, Rina poured him a glass of orange juice. She glanced down at the table. A scowling mug shot met her eye.

“At least they’re not morgue pictures.”

Decker looked up. “I can do this later.”

“No, I’m fine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think. Must be a big case if you’re working at home.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary as far as the crime goes.” Decker pushed his cereal bowl away. “But the brass think there’s potential for publicity. Foothill’s a tad camera-shy since the King beating.”

Rina sat down and picked up a spoonful of soggy flakes. “If you’re going to make the world safe, you must get adequate nutrition. Open up.”

Decker smiled, took the spoon, but didn’t eat. He aligned the papers and placed them in his briefcase. Rina frowned.

“No one’s blaming everyone in the division, Peter.”

“Ah c’mon,” Decker snapped. “The entire police force has been tarred with the same ugly brush. Makes me furious at the guys who did it. And deep down inside, I get furious at myself, too. Because truthfully, I remember times when I felt pretty damn inhumane.”

“But you didn’t act like an animal. That’s the difference.” Rina took his hand. “Your guilt is irrational, Peter. They beat the guy, you didn’t. It was horrible, it was sickening. But you had nothing to do with it!”

“Collective responsibility. Whole department’s sinking under the weight. You know Morrison. He’s not the type to get hands-on with my cases. Do you know he’s called Marge and me four times with this current case. No direct pressure, just wanted to know if we’ve got something. Because, like I said, it’s a case that could get some public attention. Before Rodney King, he wouldn’t have given a hoot. A crime was a crime, no matter who was involved.”

“So he’s a little more hands-on,” Rina said. “That’s not terrible … as long as he’s not an obstacle.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a fine line between being hands-on and being a stumbling block.” Decker threw up his hands. “I’m just nattering. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

“Of course I pay attention to you,” Rina said. “I love you and worry about you.”

Decker smiled and patted her hand. “I’ll be fine.”

“That was an ‘I don’t want to worry Rina’ smile.”

“So what’s wrong with that?” Decker said.

“You worry too much.”

“I ain’t gonna change.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Decker caught Lilah just as she was about to tumble to the floor. With one hand around her tiny waist, he carefully led her back to her hospital bed and she crawled under the sheets. She seemed so frail. With a Kleenex, she wiped the cold sweat off her forehead and peered directly into his eyes.

“You seem to have made a habit of rescuing me.”

Decker didn’t answer. Her voice was sultry and bored at the same time, like a Tennessee Williams character. He regarded her face. The swelling below her eyes had gone down, though the skin was still black. It was the first time he’d seen her eyes open. The whites were bloodshot, the irises bright blue. Her lips were covered with something waxy, but the cuts underneath looked to be healing nicely. Her flaxen hair fell over one eye, cascading down to her bare shoulders. Her skin was pale except for a tinge of red over pronounced cheekbones.

He pulled up a chair and sat to the right of the bed. She shifted to her left until their faces were no more than a foot apart. Just like yesterday, he felt some desperation in her, a need for something to hold. But there was something unhealthy about the way she was asking for comfort. He inched back in his seat, trying to regain a margin of personal space.

“You know who I am then,” Decker said.

“Sergeant Deckman, was it?”

“Decker. Very good. You must have heard a lot more than I thought. It’s good to see you talking, Miss Brecht.”

Her eyes glazed over. “Thank you.” Her voice was a throaty whisper. She flung hair over her shoulders. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I didn’t exactly do that, but you’re welcome. Everyone treating you all right?”

“This hospital is dreadful.”

“Most hospitals are. Nature of the beast.”

“Well, let it be a beast for some other poor soul. I’m leaving tonight.”

Decker paused. “Dr. Kessler’s discharging you already?”

“I’m checking out either with a discharge or against medical advice. Freddy will take care of me.” Her eyes found his. “I understand you’ve met Freddy.”

“Yesterday while you were asleep.”

“He didn’t like your questions. He thought you had a hidden agenda.”

“Not at all. Just being thorough.”

“Freddy is distrustful. It’s a trait he’s picked up from Mother.”

“I hope you trust me enough to answer a few questions, Miss Brecht.”

Lilah lowered her eyes and nodded.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Decker asked.

“It’s not the physical, but emotion …”