John Steel Collection - Books 4-6

Chapter 9-1

After Kim Washington had been released from hospital, she was taken to see McCall at the 11th. Kim didn’t like police stations at the best of times. In fact, the only times she had been in one was to pick up her mom, something that happened too often.

McCall had spoken to the doctor’s and found she was in perfect health considering a slight case of malnutrition. If the chef had beaten her, he had hidden it well, or it had been some time since the last one.

Kim Washington stepped off the elevator at the third floor – the Homicide Division of the 11th precinct. She stood for a moment and looked around as if hoping to find a familiar face in the sea of people. Detectives were either on their phones or darting around after getting that “hot lead.” She felt alone as eyes stared at her, judging her. Kim could feel their questions, “why was this woman there, what had she done, was she a criminal or a witness?” Kim felt like turning around, getting back on the elevator and going. Did she really need to be there? She went to leave, but a familiar voice called her name, “Kim, over here,” said the voice. It was detective Samantha McCall. Kim looked back towards the voice, McCall was stood next to a room – a briefing room, or so she thought. Kim walked over slowly, dragging her heels, feeling the eyes on her once more.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk to us,” McCall said, ushering Kim into the room. The room was small – ten by ten with a large window, a square table and two chairs. The room – despite being scares of furnishings, was friendly, or more so than an interrogation room. On the white plastic covered top of the table was two mugs of coffee. There were no recording devices, no cameras. Defiantly not an interrogation room. Kim sat and looked around the room. No double mirror, just a mug of coffee.

“Did I have a choice?” Kim replied as she took her seat.

“Sure, but then we would have had to talk to you again, at home or at your work, I just thought this would be easier,” McCall said with a comforting smile. In truth, McCall wanted to get Kim out of her comfort zone, away from distractions or intimidations.

“What do you want to know?” Kim finally asked. McCall smiled inside.

“Tell me about Tara, what kind of person was she?” McCall asked, picking up her mug of coffee.

“She’s nice, the kinda gal that would give you her last dollar if you were in trouble, which is weird considerin,” Kim said before blowing on her hot beverage.

“Considering what?”

“Considerin her past, her poppa died when she was young, her momma was a real piece of work,” Kim explained, her Southern Georgia accent broke through her Brooklyn. “Her Momma took off when she was in her late teens, poor thang had to survive by herself since she was a littlun, not right, not right at all,” Kim shook her head.

“Did she have a temper?” McCall asked, taking note of Kim’s reaction.

“You mean, could she have killed her roommate, her best friend?” Kim scowled. “No ma’am, Tara was the sweetest thang, sure, don’t get me wrong, the gal stood up for herself, took no s**t from nobody, includin that piece of s**t boss of ours,” Kim smiled, a distant memory slipped into her mind. “One time the bastard tried somethang with one of the new girls, Tara wasn’t havin none of that, put him in his place she did,” Kim’s expression changed as if she had just said something she shouldn’t have. McCall saw it and leapt on it.

“How did she – handle it?” McCall asked, leaning forward. Kim swallowed hard.

“She… she, look you gotta understand, she was just savin the girl from a beatin,” Kim spurted the words, trying to un-ring that bell, but it was too late, it had been well and truly rung.

“How did she handle it?” McCall repeated the question.

“She put a knife to his balls and told him next time he’d lose them,” Kim explained, her head tilted with shame of giving up her friend. “She looked after us, protected us, I guess the only reason the boss did what he did today was because he knew she wasn’t there,” Kim’s voice trembled, the sudden realization that Tara wasn’t going to be there to look after them hit home. McCall saw the panic in her eyes, and she knew in that instance how big a roll Tara played in their lives. Tara had been their bodyguard against an abusive boss; now, she was gone.

“If you are worried about your boss, you could press assault charges?” McCall said, but her words were met by a frightened, tearful gaze.

“Yeah, and then what, he gets out after, what, a month. Then he’ll really do some beatin. And what about my job, he goes away, I got no work, whose gonna pay my way, you?” Kim growled. She was bitter and terrified.

“I have no answer, I wish I did, but I don’t, all I can do is promise to keep an eye out for you and the other girls,” McCall’s voice was soft but held a power to it. Kim smiled and nodded.

“Maybe, you gonna cook as well, we ain’t got no chef no more?” Kim laughed. McCall smiled and shrugged.

“Sorry, I can’t help you on that one, I mostly get takeout,” the two women laughed. McCall’s smile faded. She knew that they had lost the momentum. “About Tara, did she have any boyfriends?”

“No, she didn’t have much time for those, not the hours we were pullin,” Kim shrugged. “She had a couple of casual pick-ups, but nothin serious.” McCall nodded and made a note on the yellow pad.

“Did she have any problems with customers, anything like that?” McCall asked, trying to get a picture of the missing woman.

“Nah, she was friendly to everyone – well, everyone except that asshole, but he wouldn’t do nothin,” Kim explained. The picture that McCall was getting was of a bright, friendly, caring woman, who by all accounts could hold her own. So, did this make her and victim or the killer? The questions continued for a short while longer. While McCall was busy with Kim Washington Steel decided to make some calls. He knew a man in the room would just make Kim clam up, mostly through embarrassment, besides, McCall had told him to stay the hell out.

It wasn’t long before the door opened, and McCall and Kim stood at the entrance. Steel looked over at the two women and smiled. They looked calm in each other’s company, and that was what McCall was good at, getting through to people.

“Thanks again for speaking to me Kim, I will do everything to make sure your boss stays away for a while,” McCall said handing over her business card. “if there is anything you ever need, call me.” Kim smiled and held the card in both hands before tucking it away in her pocket. “I’ll get uniforms to bring you home,” McCall offered.

“No, that’s OK detective. Unfortunately, I don’t need the neighbours seein me gettin out of a police car. In my part of town, only two kinds of people get out of a police car, snitches, drunks and the cops themselves. Unless of course, you’re the lady from number seven, this old gal always got a lift because she was always too drunk to drive herself home,” Kim shrugged. “I’ll be fine detective, thank you.” Kim turned and faced Steel who was sat at McCall’s desk with his feet up on the desk talking on his cell phone. Kim smiled and nodded to him. Steel returned the gesture and watched her walk to the elevator.

As Kim headed for the elevator, she smiled to herself. Bob was in lockup as a result of the assault on her and the attempted assault on a police officer. Kim had smiled when she saw her pig of a boss take a swing at the big cop. Kim was shocked at how fast the cop had moved and remembered that he’d been dressed completely in black clothes. She could still hear Bob’s head impacting with the metal table. He had swung at a cop, and that would cost him a good couple of years. As Kim waited for the elevator, she hatched a plan, and she would keep the diner running, after all, she had done all the accounts and orders because Bob couldn’t. She was already running it anyway, not that he had paid her any more for all those extra duties. In a way, it was her diner now, or at least it was until he got out of prison, by which time she would be long gone. While the place was running, she and the other waitresses had cash coming in.

Two subway rides later; she was nearly home. Kim had checked up on the diner before leaving. Fran’s cousin, Carl, had taken on the cooking after she and Bob had left with the police, and Fran had done a hell of a job after they had gone. The night shift had come in, and so had Stan, Carl’s boyfriend. He had offered to be the night shift chef. The place would run OK; indeed, it would probably run better now that Bob was out of the picture.

It was late, and her watch said it was half-past nine. She cursed the time, as she had missed her favourite TV show. Her street was at least two blocks from the station, but she began to hurry. Kim would be on early shift tomorrow and needed some sleep. The night air had a bite to it, and dark clouds covered the heavens from view. She turned onto her road and hurried towards her home. The sound of her heels echoed through the avenue of buildings.

She saw nothing around her, only the screen from her cell as she searched for missed messages. Even as she made her way up the stairs to the third floor, her vision never left the mass of messages from her social media pages. Her corridor was poorly lit, as though some of the bulbs had blown, but she was chatting to some guy on Twitter. Even as she opened the door with her key and nudged it open with her foot, she was away in another place. She never saw the hand cup her mouth or the person who thrust her into the apartment and slammed the door behind them. The corridor was silent apart from the sounds of the television sets behind closed doors.

No one had seen it happen. No one knew what had happened.

Inside Kim Washington’s apartment, the darkness made the situation seem a thousand times worse. She had seen the movies: the ones where a girl gets attacked in a dark apartment, and they never ended well. Then she remembered what the cops had said about Tara’s roommate, found dead in her apartment. Was she next, she wondered?

Suddenly the lights came on, and Kim shielded her eyes from the sudden brightness. This suddenly made it worse. With the lights off she could say she hadn’t seen anything but now! She kept her hand over her eyes, but this time it was to shield her view of her attacker. She didn’t want to see them; she didn’t want to die.