Be Gay Do Crime

Normally, Linda would stay far away from prisoner transports, she hated how it was a whole lot of sitting on your ass and doing nothing. This was an exception, given they were transferring Daniel Lowell, one of the bastards who dared hurt her little Ashe.

Well, her Ashe wasn't quite so little anymore, and most of the damage the man had suffered originally was thanks to her. Hell, she'd practically saved the man's life by sheer accident. His broken nose prevented him from inhaling the drug cocktail to enough of a degree that he didn't suffer full exposure.

Whatever man had called in his medical emergency had done CPR, kept him alive long enough to allow medical professionals time to arrive. A part of her wished he'd been allowed to die instead, but Ashe deserved to see justice in action, to know that the law would protect her. That was why Linda volunteered to be his escort back from the hospital.

He'd be taken right to the county holding and brought to their own medical facility to finish his recovery until he was fit to stand trial. No doubt his lawyer would attempt to use his overdose as an excuse to delay things as long as he could, but he had fresh charges of possession with intent to distribute on his hands in addition to the assault and attempted kidnapping of an underage individual.

She was confident they would get something to stick, no matter how good the slimebag was at his job. There was enough evidence to show that the others present cleaned out most of the easily packed drugs and cash, but there was still enough on hand that it would stick.

Lowell was currently on some pain killers in the hospital's attempt to wean him off of his sudden opioid addiction, but the jail would offer no such courtesy. He would just have to endure it while his lawyer fought to keep him from trial. Whoever was funding his legal representation might even decide to cut their losses and withdraw support if it took long enough. Linda would be okay with that if it meant the man faced justice for trying to kill her daughter.

The transport pulled into the parking lot, and Linda took a look around. There were a handful of officers ready to receive them, and a single porter working near the door. They would need to be moved away before Lowell was wheeled in. She knew that there was a good chance that someone might make a move against him and they didn't need any unnecessary risks.

When the van parked, Linda hopped out, her head on a swivel as she took in each and every officer present. She recognized each of them, meaning Catherine was assigning the security detail and ensuring that there were no dirty officers among them. She gestured to the sweeping porter and an officer moved to get them clear of the route they would be taking. She knew that no amount of precautions were foolproof, but it was the best they could manage.

Two of the staff nurses came out the door, an officer escorting each one to the van. Linda threw the doors open and the nurses worked to unsecure Lowell's gurney. Two minutes later, he was being wheeled inside. The county lockup had more in common with a prison than most jails, with a secure airlock preventing casual entry and exit to the facility.

The inner courtyard was empty of all offenders, having been cleared ahead of time despite it being yard time for one of the cell-blocks. The medical wing was open to the yard, and they brought him along the path as he looked to and fro in a fading stupor. Upon arriving at Medical, they brought him inside, a room already prepared.

He would need to be under watch, with a secure door keeping any other offender porters out as well as a visitor log of each person to enter and when. The cameras were already set up for observation, as they always were when someone was placed on suicide watch. Precautions within precautions were warranted when someone important was in custody.

This man certainly qualified.

She glanced into one of the hospice rooms, a frail old man laid there, considerable equipment the only thing sustaining his life. She found it to be a waste of taxpayer dollars, keeping the worst of the worst alive despite even nature deciding they should die. Unfortunately, they had legal custody and were responsible for the well-being of those in their care. The man inside recognized her, and he raised his hands, signing a greeting to her.

Right, he had been one of the jail porters six or seven years back, and was completely deaf besides. She smiled, signing a simple message back. She might not be the biggest fan of what her taxes were spent on, but that was no reason to be a bitch without reason. Having a good rapport with those in custody was usually worth keeping some opinions to herself. She turned back to the escort, which had paused for a moment as a couple of nurses confirmed some paperwork.

Linda saw it out of the corner of her eye, someone moving quickly. She stepped back on instinct, turning to face the source of the motion. It was another hospice offender, their breathing lines still taped to their face. They had something in hand, lifting it up. Linda drew her gun, leveling it on them even as the blade of a shank sunk into the neck of Lowell.

Linda fired twice, striking the assailant twice in the chest.

He went down almost immediately, but pulled the shank free as he fell.

"Get a trauma kit!" one of the nurses yelled.

Another was on the radio, calling codes as they did, but Linda couldn't focus on anything but the man bleeding to death right in front of her. Worse, he looked right at her, and had the nerve to smirk just as his eyes rolled back and his pulse faded into a flat-line. She didn't care that the man was dead, and she felt nothing for the inmate that she had gunned down in an attempt at protecting him.

No, all she felt was sadness that Ashe wouldn't get to see justice done.

The nurses worked on both men in futility, she knew where she had shot him, he wouldn't survive a double tap to the chest. Lowell was no better, a sharpened piece of plastic had been used to carve a two inch wide, and four inch deep wound into his neck. He never had a hope of surviving that, even if it had happened in a trauma ward of the best hospital in the country.

She'd moved aside, already scribbling the basics of what happened into her notepad, knowing she would be doing use of force and incident reports for the whole thing. There would be investigations and lawsuits, but that was just part of the job anytime something like that happened, though she did make a note to check the cameras and see who left that man's cell unsecured so he would have the opportunity.

Odds are Catherine would have a few more people to see fired before this was all said and done. It was unfortunate that they couldn't fire people for having Iron Patriot association, as it was classified as a religious group, much like the Moorish Science Temple. That didn't mean that Catherine couldn't subtly manage what assignments they got.

Even with all of those precautions, someone had slipped their net and gotten a weapon and willing person in place to take a successful shot at her charge. She had failed at delivering him back to the facility safely, and that stung. Worse, the attacker was dead as well, and there would be little to no evidence linking him to whoever put him up to it.

They could try for a court order to monitor his family's financials for a sudden influx, but even that was easy enough to side step. She found herself back at the precinct later that afternoon, completing the incident reports when a gentle knock on her desk pulled her from the spiraling thoughts of her shit-show of a day.

"How are you holding up?" Catherine asked with a soft smile.

She sighed, sitting back in her seat. "Better than mister Lowell, at least."

"Quite the accomplishment," Cat said dryly.

Linda couldn't help the quirk of her lips at her wife's attempt at humor. That lasted for all of a single moment before the concerns she had began to bubble back to the surface.

"Have you considered how we'll break it to Ashe?" Linda asked softly.

"With the truth," Cat said, borrowing a chair from the nearby desk before taking a seat. "She's nearly an adult, we can't keep treating her like a child, Lin. We'll tell her he was killed, likely as a hit, which was carried out by someone near death and awaiting trial for triple homicide besides. A suicidal attack of sorts."

Linda cringed at the thought of telling her in such detail, but it needed to be done. Ashe was well aware of how cutthroat the world could be, she'd lived through one of the worst experiences a girl could suffer, and come out stronger for it.

Maybe it was time they arranged to meet Crystal in a more formal setting, and get to know her a bit better. She would need to do some additional digging into her past, and consult with Cat about anything she had already learned. The girl was dangerous, they knew that much from how she carried herself, but how much so remained to be seen. Perhaps they could arrange something to see just how much so.

A commotion drew her attention across the way, a young girl yelling animatedly at one of the detectives, tears streaming down her face. Linda shared a look with her wife before the pair were striding towards the brewing situation.

"What's the meaning of this?" Catherine demanded in a tone that brokered no argument.

"My friend was kidnapped and nobody will help!" the young girl wailed.

Feeling an aching sense of familiarity, Linda stepped around the desk and checked the junior detective's monitor. Jessica Stockton, senior at Jericho high which made her one of Ashe's classmates. That a connection so obvious was right in front of them, she had a sinking feeling as to the reason why this detective might be unwilling to help.

"Given the similarities to the Hamilton kidnapping attempt, this should at least be humored," Linda said, her voice flat and lip curled in a snarl.

"We reached out to her parents," the detective said, hastily. "They claim she wasn't kidnapped at all, we can't do anything without waiting the mandatory time."

"You claim to have witnessed this?" Catherine asked.

The girl nodded furiously, snot dripping to the carpet as she did. "Yes! I've tried telling people, but nobody is listening!"

"That changes things," Catherine said. "A witness is more than enough cause to overrule parental word, especially if they might have been involved."

The girl's lip quivered before she threw herself at Catherine, wailing out unintelligible thanks as she did. Linda helped pry the girl off of her wife before her suit was completely soiled, and guided her back to the Captain's office. Once inside, and with the door secure, she brought the girl a warm cup of coffee and handed it over.

"Drink, it will help your throat," Linda said, affecting as kind of a smile as she could fake. This girl didn't need to know of her failures or suffer for them. "We'll need a statement on what you witnessed. Would you be willing to allow us to record the interview for our record?"

She nodded, sipping on the cup as she did. Tears still streaked her cheeks and Linda grabbed her a tissue from the shelf. The girl had obviously seen something traumatic and it hit her hard. Catherine pulled out a small recorder, and just for her own peace of mind, Linda activated the recorder function on her watch.

"This is Captain Catherine Hamilton present with Officer Linda Hamilton interviewing a witness in a possible kidnapping. Miss, if you could give your name for the record?"

Linda didn't miss that the girl had stiffened slightly when she heard the name 'Hamilton' which meant she knew Ashe in some capacity, maybe even joined in with the bullies that tormented her regularly. She'd ask Ashe later, if it became relevant, but for now the girl was just a witness and victim, she would put her own feelings aside in favor of professionalism.

"Rachel, Rachel Halsey."

Linda's eyebrow crept up. The Halsey's were a founding family within the city, one of the downtown districts was named after their line, the very district they lived in at that. If someone like her was being ignored, if one of her friends had been taken…

"Thank you miss Halsey," Catherine said. "Now, can you please tell us, in as much detail as possible, what you saw as well as where and when to the best of your ability?"

The girl sniffled, clutching the coffee cup in her lap as she stared down into it. "We met up before school. Jessica, she was scared."

"Just to clarify, this is Jessica Stockton you're referring to?" Catherine asked.

The girl nodded, then clarified verbally. "Yes. She had some sort of argument with her parents. Heather was spooked too, er, Heather Thorne, she's also a friend of ours. She decided to go home instead."

"Do you feel she's also in danger?" Linda asked.

"I don't know…" Rachel said softly. "Jessica and I were almost to school when two men approached. They wore these weird full face masks, sunglasses, and matching outfits."

"Could you describe the outfits?" Catherine asked.

"Khaki pants, cheap ones. They also had brown polo shirts with a patch on their shoulder."

Linda had a feeling she knew what the patch would be, but she needed it stated for the record. "Can you describe the patch?"

"It was an angular cross, the Iron Patriot's logo," she said, almost sounding haunted. "They had the audacity to impersonate the Patriots, those damn Viuda." Linda very much doubted that it was a ruse given they targeted her daughter, but convincing those that followed with a religious fervor was never an easy task. "They took her into that alley and I ran rather than try to find out more. I tried telling teachers, but they brushed me off. I called our pastor and he only told me she was in God's hands. I even told…"

"Told who?" Linda demanded, a bit sharper than she intended.

"Ashe," she whispered. "I told your daughter, but she didn't care either. Just brushed it off like it didn't matter."

"Why would she be so callous?" Catherine asked. Her tone was soft, the question leading, but Linda knew what it meant, because Cat had paused the recorder before asking. "What did Jessica do to her that would lead her to act like that when a crime was alleged?"

"Jessica… I think she might have told someone where Ashe would be that day," Rachel said so softly that her watch might have missed it. "We bullied her, because it made us look better to the rest of the school. The teachers even encouraged us for doing it. The principal bought us pizza the last time we were given detention for it."

Linda's fists tightened into tight balls, her short nails digging so deep into her palms that they threatened to draw blood. They had spent years trying to get those answers, and it took a girl, broken and afraid, to finally give them.

Worse, they wouldn't even be admissible in their own case.

Catherine reached out for the recorder, seeming to re-enable it. "Can you tell us the names of the teachers you reported the kidnapping to?"

The girl began to name names, she also named her pastor in the process. Catherine was typing things as the girl spoke, knowing she could flesh out the report later if need be thanks to the recording.

"I think that is all we have at this time for questions," Catherine said, turning the recorder off. "If you could leave your number with us, we might reach out if there are any developments that you can assist us with."

"Thanks," Rachel said, showing a genuine smile for once. "You're the first to listen."

"Despite what you may have done to our daughter, a missing person comes first," Catherine said. "You did the right thing here, and I can only hope that if the time comes, you do right by Ashe in the future."

"I'll…" she paused, looking away, "keep that in mind."

"That's all we can ask," Linda said, opening the door so she could leave. Once Rachel was far enough, she shut the door and turned back to her wife. "This is…"

"I think we walked into a conspiracy of sorts," Catherine agreed. "How much do you want to bet that if we push this, someone comes in and takes over, only to silently close it out?"

"Give the case to that junior detective," Linda said. "We can investigate on our own time if he closes the case on us."

"I don't like this," Cat said.

Linda walked over, and pulled her wife into a hug. "I don't like it either, Cat, but it isn't the first time we've had to play this game."

"And it won't be the last."

They then spent the next twenty minutes listening to the watch recording before backing it up to her cloud drive, to ensure they had a record. The case was handed off to the junior detective with a request to keep Catherine updated on all developments in the event it isn't a wild goose chase. Better to be safe than sorry when it's the right sorts that have been targeted by the dangerous 'widows' of the Viuda. Keeping the sarcasm out of her voice for that one had been a trial unto itself. She hated that they had to play their game, but that was one of the prices of living in Jericho.

Now, they just had to decide how much they shared with Ashe, especially if she had already known and cared so little about the girl that she did nothing to help her, that she hadn't even told them about the allegation, it spoke of a deep resentment towards the girl.

If Ashe knew that Jessica was the one that instigated the attack, she couldn't even blame her daughter for being so callous. She would have had much the same reaction at her age. Yet, she couldn't let those feelings cloud her judgment, it was the first lead they had gotten in weeks. And after one of their suspects was murdered, she was itching to see what this shook loose.

"I'll go talk to her parents," Linda said. "Can you leak it to the media that a white girl was snatched off the streets."

"I'm sure Steven would be thrilled to run that story," Catherine said dryly. "Maybe he'll even pester the girl's parents into making a willing statement."

Linda hummed, several options running through her head. "We should have Floyd approach them as soon as they're interviewed. He's annoying enough to get them to give in."

"All this assumes they haven't threatened the Stocktons into silence already," Catherine said softly.

"It depends on how confident the Patriots are that they can frame the Viuda," she said. "I have a feeling they sold their daughter for protection after the botched attack risked exposure."

"Of that, we are in agreement."

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