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“When did you last see Fiona?” Drew said.

  “It was the Friday before Christmas,” Richardson said. “Friday evening. We had dinner together and then we saw a film. Afterward, I dropped her off at her place.”

  “Do you recall the approximate time you dropped her at home?” Drew said.

  “Yes, I know what time exactly,” Richardson said. “I looked at the clock on the dash of the car. It was ten-thirty Friday night. Some other friends were having a party. I’d promised I’d be there by eleven.”

  “Given the coroner’s time of death estimate, it seems you might have been one of the last people to see her alive,” Drew said.

  “Oh my God,” Richardson said. “Are you serious? That’s unbearable news. It means if we’d arrived later, or if I’d walked her inside, Fiona might still be alive.”

  “You didn’t walk her to the door?” Drew said.

  “No, Fiona never allowed it,” Richardson said. “I don’t know how much you’ve learned about Fiona, but she was going through some tough times financially. I mean this. The woman was brilliant, just a brilliant screenwriter. But she just couldn’t seem to catch a break. Fiona never said so in so many words, but well, I had the impression her living conditions embarrassed her. She never allowed me inside the house, not once. Whenever we went to dinner or a movie, she would always wait on the porch for me to arrive to pick her up. And, she insisted I just drop her off out front afterward.”

  “So, you’ve never been inside her house?” Drew said.

  “Not since she has been on Benedict Canyon,” Richardson said. “In the past, I visited her at home when she lived in Brentwood years ago. Those were much happier times for Fiona, I believe.”

  “Did you notice any cars at Fiona’s place when you arrived?” Drew said.

  “No, there weren’t any cars in the driveway,” Richardson said. “Fiona didn’t own a car. I wasn’t really looking, to be honest. But no, I don’t recall seeing any cars parked nearby on the street.”

  “Do you recall if there were any lights on inside the house?” Drew said.

  “Not when we arrived,” Richardson said. “I waited in the driveway until she unlocked the front door and went inside. She switched on the lights then. She waved and closed the front door, and I left.”

  “You said you went from there to a party?” Drew said.

  “Yes, at the home of another close friend, Jon Solomon,” Richardson said. “Jon lives in Bel Air. I got there just a few minutes before eleven, as I recall.”

  “What time did you leave the party?” Drew said.

  “Surely you don’t suspect I had anything to do with what happened to Fiona?” Richardson said. “My God, man. We were close friends.”

  “Don’t read too much into the questions, Mr. Richardson,” Drew said. “We’re asking the same questions of all Fiona’s close friends so that we can eliminate them.”

  “Okay, well, I actually never left the party,” Richardson said. “As it sometimes happens, I had a little too much to drink. It seemed unwise to drive home. Jon has a big place. He was kind enough to let me spend the night there. I slept late. We all did. Then we had brunch. I got back to my place around one Saturday afternoon. I can give you Jon’s number if you need to check.”

  “Very good, thanks, Mr. Richardson, for speaking with us,” Drew said.

  “Not a problem,” Richardson said. “I suppose you guys aren’t allowed to talk about an ongoing investigation, so I’ll just say I hope you find the person responsible soon. Fiona will be sorely missed. She was a brilliant woman. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  “We will do our best,” Drew said. “Thanks again.”

  Richardson walked them to the door of his office. The detectives went back out to the car.

  “We’re doing outstanding police work, Youngblood,” Ortega said. “We don’t seem able to find the damn killer, but we’re sure as hell eliminating all our suspects.”

  The detectives laughed as Ortega drove back out of the studio entrance, and they headed back to West Bureau.

  Chapter 13

  When Drew and Ortega arrived back at West Bureau, they went inside to sign out. They stopped by their desks first to check for messages. Drew had decided on the ride in to call Lucy Tomlinson. He took out his phone and called her. She answered on the second ring.

  “I don’t believe it, you actually called,” Lucy said.

  “Hey, sorry,” Drew said. “I meant to call sooner, but we’ve been tied up with the case.”

  “At least you haven’t forgotten me,” Lucy teased. “I was beginning to believe I’d only been a one-night stand for you. Anyway, what’s up, Howie?”

  “Well, I thought maybe we could have dinner or something tomorrow night.”

  “Um… tomorrow night?” Lucy said. “You know this is such short notice. I’d have to break a date with another guy.”

  Drew felt his ears redden. He stuttered, “Oh, okay, I didn’t—”

  Lucy burst out laughing. “I’m only messing with you, Howie,” she said. “Yeah, tomorrow night sounds good. Where are you taking me?”

  “Um… well, I haven’t planned that far ahead,” Drew said. “I wanted to see if you were available first.”

  “Oh, I see,” Lucy said. “You’re only looking for an available girl. Is that it?”

  Drew felt embarrassed and just wanted to finish the call. He knew Ortega was listening to his phone conversation.

  “So, what time you want me to pick you up?” he stammered. “Seven okay?”

  “Seven is great, Howie,” Lucy giggled.

  “Okay, see you tomorrow then,” Drew said.

  “See you soon, Howie,” Lucy chuckled.

  Drew disconnected the call.

  “That the attractive little brunette cop you met Christmas Eve?” Ortega said.

  “Yeah,” Drew said, willing himself not to turn any redder and failing.

  “You know what they say about fishing off the company dock, Youngblood,” Ortega chided.

  “Seriously? You don’t think it’s a good idea for cops to date cops?”

  Ortega laughed. “I’m only giving you a hard time,” he said. “Who else would put up with our crap but another cop?”

  “You mean your wife is a cop?” Drew said.

  “She was until we got married,” Ortega said with a grin. “I’m out of here. Catch you in the morning.”

  “Yeah, see you in the morning,” Drew said.

  After Ortega left, Drew thought about making some calls and trying to get a head start on setting up interviews for Monday. Then he decided he’d have time for it the next day after they finished with Welch and the polygraph. He shut down his computer and headed for the parking lot.

  As he neared his car, he saw a black Ford Mustang parked next to it. Lucy Tomlinson was leaning against the mustang wearing a purple tank top over denim jeans. She was smiling, but he couldn’t see the electric blues for the Ray-Bans.

  “Detective Drew,” Lucy said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Were you out here the whole time I was stammering on the phone?” Drew said.

  “Yep, I was,” Lucy smirked.

  “That’s so wrong,” Drew said, grinning. “What’s up, Officer Tomlinson?”

  “What’s up is I didn’t think you were going to call,” Lucy said. “So, I drove over here to give you a piece… of my mind.”

  “Well, guess it’s lucky I called then,” Drew laughed.

  “You can’t imagine,” Lucy said. “Anyway, as long as I’m here, I’ve seen yours. How about me showing you mine? We could grab takeout and have dinner at my place. That way you get a bonus night.”

  “Sure,” Drew said, glad he had called her. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Um… maybe I could leave my car here,” Lucy said brashly. “I could ride back with you when you drive to work in the morning and pick it up then.”

  Drew gulped involuntarily, hoping it hadn’t been as loud as it sounded to him.

&
nbsp; “Sure,” he said, trying to sound casual and failing badly.

  Lucy grinned at him. She pressed the fob in her hand, locking her car. Drew got in behind the wheel and Lucy got in the passenger side. Drew drove out of the police lot.

  * * *

  At Lucy’s apartment, she got plates and forks while Drew took the Chinese takeout containers out of the bag.

  “It smells amazing,” Lucy said. “I love Chinese food.”

  “Yes, it’s great,” Drew said, opening the two bottles of Corona Lucy had carried to the table.

  They sat at the table eating honey garlic chicken, veggie fried rice, and spring rolls.

  “How is the case going?” Lucy said.

  “It’s going,” Drew said. “We’ve cut the suspect list down to two possibles.”

  “Seriously? That’s good then, isn’t it?”

  “Hopefully, it means we’re getting close to making an arrest,” Drew said. “Thing is, my partner thinks it’s one guy. I think it’s the other guy.”

  “I’ve heard Ortega is a good detective,” Lucy said.

  “Yeah, he knows his stuff,” Drew said. “I’m learning a lot from him. But on my first day he told me to keep an open mind and not to home in on one suspect too quickly. I think that’s exactly what he is doing. It’s like Ortega has developed tunnel vision. He’s so sure about the guy he likes for it I can’t even get him to give my guy a serious look.”

  “What makes you so sure Ortega isn’t right?”

  “I can’t see any motive with the guy he thinks did it,” Drew said. “We interviewed him today. He’s a complete asshole, but he didn’t strike me as a psychopath who would kill someone for no reason.”

  “Maybe he had a reason you just don’t know about yet,” Lucy said.

  “If that’s true, we should find out tomorrow,” Drew said. “We’re going to polygraph him in the morning.”

  “Then maybe you guys will find out who is right,” Lucy said.

  “I hope so,” Drew said. “Since I’m the fucking new guy and Ortega has all the experience, I can’t really push my theory as hard as I’d like to push it.”

  “What made you take the detective test?” Lucy said. “Didn’t you like patrol either? You could have made sergeant by now.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Drew said. “I liked patrol okay when I was there, but ever since I got out of the academy, I wanted to be a homicide detective.”

  They ate quietly for a while. Lucy got up and brought two more beers from the frig.

  “You like Corona?” Lucy said. “It’s my favorite.”

  “It’s okay,” Drew said. “I enjoy trying new beers. Last month I was onto Rolling Rock. This month it has been Fat Tire. Next month I’ll try something else.”

  “Maybe I should be more adventurous like you.”

  “You seem adventurous enough to me already,” Drew said with a grin.

  Lucy laughed. Drew loved the sound of her laugh.

  “So that you know,” Lucy said. “I usually don’t throw myself at guys like this.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t noticed you were doing that,” Drew said.

  Lucy giggled. “I’m sure you haven’t,” she said.

  They finished eating and cleared the table together.

  “That was so good,” Lucy said. “Thank you for buying dinner again.”

  “My pleasure,” Drew said.

  “Let’s check the view outside,” Lucy said.

  “Okay,” Drew said. They carried their beers out through the French doors to the balcony patio.

  “This is nice,” Drew said.

  “I think the view at your place is better,” Lucy said. “I took a peek the other night. Maybe the view is better because your apartment is on a higher floor.”

  They sat on the patio, drinking beer, and making small talk. Once they had finished a third beer, Lucy said, “You want to watch a movie or something?”

  “Or something,” Drew said with a grin.

  “That’s right,” Lucy said. “You have to get up early, so I don’t want to keep you up too late. Maybe I should show you the guestroom.”

  “The bedroom, you mean?” Drew said with a grin.

  Lucy laughed and punched Drew playfully on the shoulder. “Look at you,” she said. “All you think about is sex.”

  Drew leaned over, and they kissed, long and deep. When they parted, Lucy said, “Yeah, I was thinking more like my bedroom.”

  “Okay,” Drew said with a smile. They stood up. Drew took her by the hand and she led the way.

  Drew knew he had been a little clumsy the first night they had spent together, clumsy in the way of a guy who is a little self-conscious and out of practice. It had been a while for him before Lucy. As with most first times, he knew it hadn’t been great. But Lucy had been patient. She had directed him with hands and whispers. The second time that first night had gone better. Then they had held each other until they both dozed off. After a while, Drew had woke up. He loved the feel and the scent of her hair on his face. It was a clean, herbal smell. He desperately wanted her again. He had lightly kissed her awake, and they had made love again.

  This time she didn’t have to coach him. Drew felt more confident and less self-conscious. It was great the first time. After they finished, Drew turned over on his stomach. Lucy rubbed his back. Her hand slipped downward. He felt her fingers lightly tracing the shrapnel scars on his hip and the backs of his thighs.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “Souvenirs from Iraq,” Drew said.

  “Will you tell me about the scars?” she said. “There must be a story.”

  “I don’t like talking about it,” Drew said. “If I talk about it, I think about it. Then I remember things. Then I get dreams. Bad ones. I saw a lot of nasty shit in Iraq.”

  “Oh, okay, babe,” Lucy said. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I need some water,” Drew said. “You want some?”

  “Nope, I’m okay.”

  “Be right back,” Drew said. He got up, found his boxers on the floor, and slipped them on. Then he padded out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and went back out on the balcony. He leaned against the rail, sipping the water and looking out at the lights of the city. He thought about Lucy and wondered if he should be getting involved with her. When he had almost finished the water, he heard the door open behind him. Then he felt her hands around his waist as she embraced him from behind. He could feel her soft skin against his back and knew she was still naked.

  “What’s wrong, Howie?” Lucy said.

  “Nothing, just thinking.”

  “I hope I didn’t bring back terrible memories for you asking about the scars.”

  Howie turned to face her and put his arms around her. He kissed her on the forehead. He let his hands slide down her back to her tight, bare buttocks.

  “No, I’m okay,” he said huskily.

  Lucy kissed his chin. He lowered his chin and kissed her on the lips.

  “Come back to bed,” Lucy said. “I want you again.”

  Drew chuckled softly. “Okay, you’re on.”

  They went back to the bedroom and crawled back under the sheets.

  “We don’t need these,” Lucy said, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and pulling them off over his legs. They made love again. It was even better than the first time. Drew felt like he was getting the hang of it again. After they finished, with Drew on his back and with Lucy’s head on his chest and their arms around each other, they fell asleep.

  The platoon began clearing the building complex as loudspeakers onboard the Strykers blared a warning in Arabic that Americans were coming to root out any insurgents that had stuck around to fight. The third squad over watched an adjacent building while Drew’s squad entered the door of a two-story building with Private First Class Conrad Baldwin on point. He moved left with Specialist Kit Gardner as two other soldiers moved right. Drew was right on their tails. An AQ
I insurgent hidden underneath a large wooden table with an AK-47 waited to ambush the team. But Specialist Gardner spotted and quickly engaged and killed the insurgent with several well-aimed bursts from his Squad Automatic Weapon. All around, explosions—large and small—broke the silence. There was the insistent pounding of the Stryker 12.7mm and M2 Browning machine guns, the hiss of the insurgent rocket-propelled grenades, and the crack of incoming sniper fire. Drew’s squad lay prone on the floor of the cinder-block building, sleeping for the few minutes they could grab, oblivious to the explosions outside. Alongside one wall lay the dead Iraqi insurgent, a piece of cloth draped over his face. Drew felt himself nodding off when a massive blast hit the building. Fire erupted outside the room’s window, and the soldiers on the floor were lifted up and then thrown back on the floor like rag dolls. Dust filled the building that was so thick it was impossible to see and hard to breathe. Soldiers shouted out for one another through the whiteout. “Anyone hit?” Drew shouted. As the dust cleared a little, a two-foot-wide hole in the roof became visible. A rocket emerged from the gloom, embedded in the floor ten feet from Drew. His soldiers looked around quietly, looking at one another, looking away, looking at the dead and wounded.

  Drew bolted upright, drenched in sweat. He almost took a swing at Lucy until he remembered where he was.

  “It’s okay, babe, it’s okay,” Lucy said. “You were dreaming.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry, Lucy,” Drew said.

  “Was it like the dreams you told me about earlier?” she said. “From the war?”

  “Yes, I should have warned you what I’m like when I have them,” Drew said. “I must have scared the hell out of you.” He laughed a little with embarrassment. “They sure scare the hell out of me.”

  “It’s okay,” Lucy said. “You were shouting someone’s name, but I couldn’t make it out.”

  “Probably one of my guys from Iraq,” Drew said. He looked over at the digital clock. The soft blue glow of the numbers said 4:42.

  “It’s still early,” Lucy said with a yawn. “Let’s go back to sleep, babe.”

  “Okay,” Drew said, lying back down beside her. He didn’t tell her he never went back to sleep after one of the dreams. He was too afraid he’d have another.