dangerous for her? What if I’m leading her down a path that she isn’t meant to go?
I can’t stay away from her – that much is obvious – and more than that, I’ve been charged with protecting her. How on earth am I supposed to do that?
Twenty-Two
A sudden knock on the door causes me to jump clean out of my chair. I’m on my feet, fists clenched at my side, but the absence of the buzz in my back does not go unnoticed as the door clicks open.
“Mikah,” says a male voice – one that is familiar, but in my moment of panic, I can’t place it.
“Yeah!” I say, clipped.
“It’s Detective Stevens. Can I come in? I’m off duty. I came by to check on you and to see Vivienne.” His voice is calm, casual, almost friendly.
“Come in.”
I look down at Vivienne and become conscious once again of the sucking and pulling of the ventilator. She hasn’t changed; she’s still sitting there, empty.
“My God.” I hear him exhale, and I look to my left. Detective Stevens is wearing blue jeans and a navy blue MPD t-shirt, tucked in. I notice he is without his gun. I turn back to Vivienne and take my seat again.
“Have you captured Riley?” I ask. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that question, but I have to ask it anyway.
“Not that I should be telling you this, but no. We have not.”
I bristle at this. “I can be a very valuable asset in your search for him. It’s to both our benefit for you to share information with me.”
“I’m not here to argue or pick a fight, Blake. I came to see Vivienne. Whether you believe it or not, I care about her,” he says. I can hear the sadness in his voice.
“You care, but yet you let this happen?” I ask, still looking at Vivienne. It’s unfair and I know it, but seeing her like this....
“Blake, we both know how this happened, and I can’t turn back time, I can’t bring my officer back any more than I can make Vivienne’s injuries go away.” The more he talks, the more sadness filters into his voice.
“I know,” I say. I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.
Neither one of us says anything else for a few minutes. Finally I stand and gesture for him to sit: my peace offering. I go to the opposite side of the bed and sit by her feet, careful not to jostle her. I gently rub along her leg and fight the urge to smile as the heart monitor goes nuts.
“She’s like a daughter to me,” Stevens says. “After seeing her in the hospital the last time, I did my best to keep tabs on her. I spoke with Al.”
“Who’s Al?”
“The gentleman who drives the bus that she normally takes home after work. I told him to keep a good eye on her because I wasn’t always able to do so.”
“How did Rebecca Black get to her?”
I’m genuinely curious, not accusing, but his head shoots up and he looks hard into my eyes. “We weren’t looking for her. Didn’t know we needed to be looking for her. It wasn’t until one of our drug task force guys noticed Riley coming and going from a well-known drug neighborhood that we started to get suspicious that he was up to no good. At the time that Rebecca was in Vivienne’s diner, Riley was in North Minneapolis. We had no reason to suspect that he would send someone else to talk to her.” He takes a deep breath and rubs his face.
“The task force was working on trying to catch him on drug-related charges. They had intel on Riley that pointed to him wheeling and dealing. They tried a couple of times to pull him over or pick him up, but each time they had nothing to go on, and the worst we could charge him with was speeding.” He rubs at the stubble on his chin. “We lost track of him the night of Rebecca’s murder and haven’t been able to pinpoint him since.”
Twenty-Three
The Detective finally leaves when Red arrives with food. Red hands me a large, surprisingly heavy picnic basket. “Celeste insisted that you would prefer this to something from
I can’t stay away from her – that much is obvious – and more than that, I’ve been charged with protecting her. How on earth am I supposed to do that?
Twenty-Two
A sudden knock on the door causes me to jump clean out of my chair. I’m on my feet, fists clenched at my side, but the absence of the buzz in my back does not go unnoticed as the door clicks open.
“Mikah,” says a male voice – one that is familiar, but in my moment of panic, I can’t place it.
“Yeah!” I say, clipped.
“It’s Detective Stevens. Can I come in? I’m off duty. I came by to check on you and to see Vivienne.” His voice is calm, casual, almost friendly.
“Come in.”
I look down at Vivienne and become conscious once again of the sucking and pulling of the ventilator. She hasn’t changed; she’s still sitting there, empty.
“My God.” I hear him exhale, and I look to my left. Detective Stevens is wearing blue jeans and a navy blue MPD t-shirt, tucked in. I notice he is without his gun. I turn back to Vivienne and take my seat again.
“Have you captured Riley?” I ask. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that question, but I have to ask it anyway.
“Not that I should be telling you this, but no. We have not.”
I bristle at this. “I can be a very valuable asset in your search for him. It’s to both our benefit for you to share information with me.”
“I’m not here to argue or pick a fight, Blake. I came to see Vivienne. Whether you believe it or not, I care about her,” he says. I can hear the sadness in his voice.
“You care, but yet you let this happen?” I ask, still looking at Vivienne. It’s unfair and I know it, but seeing her like this....
“Blake, we both know how this happened, and I can’t turn back time, I can’t bring my officer back any more than I can make Vivienne’s injuries go away.” The more he talks, the more sadness filters into his voice.
“I know,” I say. I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.
Neither one of us says anything else for a few minutes. Finally I stand and gesture for him to sit: my peace offering. I go to the opposite side of the bed and sit by her feet, careful not to jostle her. I gently rub along her leg and fight the urge to smile as the heart monitor goes nuts.
“She’s like a daughter to me,” Stevens says. “After seeing her in the hospital the last time, I did my best to keep tabs on her. I spoke with Al.”
“Who’s Al?”
“The gentleman who drives the bus that she normally takes home after work. I told him to keep a good eye on her because I wasn’t always able to do so.”
“How did Rebecca Black get to her?”
I’m genuinely curious, not accusing, but his head shoots up and he looks hard into my eyes. “We weren’t looking for her. Didn’t know we needed to be looking for her. It wasn’t until one of our drug task force guys noticed Riley coming and going from a well-known drug neighborhood that we started to get suspicious that he was up to no good. At the time that Rebecca was in Vivienne’s diner, Riley was in North Minneapolis. We had no reason to suspect that he would send someone else to talk to her.” He takes a deep breath and rubs his face.
“The task force was working on trying to catch him on drug-related charges. They had intel on Riley that pointed to him wheeling and dealing. They tried a couple of times to pull him over or pick him up, but each time they had nothing to go on, and the worst we could charge him with was speeding.” He rubs at the stubble on his chin. “We lost track of him the night of Rebecca’s murder and haven’t been able to pinpoint him since.”
Twenty-Three
The Detective finally leaves when Red arrives with food. Red hands me a large, surprisingly heavy picnic basket. “Celeste insisted that you would prefer this to something from
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