Conflict of Interest Page 6

  Aiden knew she couldn't argue with that. She looked into the depths of the black coffee that Mrs. Kinsley set down in front of her. "Then I'll simply promise that we'll do the best we can." She could only hope that it would be enough.

  CHAPTER 6

  AIDEN LOOKED UP from her computer screen and rubbed her burning eyes when Ruben strode into the squad room. "Rape kit findings finally in?" she asked him.

  A few rebellious strands of brown hair fell into Ruben's eyes as he shook his head. "The lab is backed up from here to Afghanistan. DNA tech said results won't be in until tomorrow."

  "Great!" Aiden grimaced and went back to comparing the police sketch from Dawn's rapist with photos of registered sex offenders. She knew it was a rather hopeless attempt, but with no other leads, she was determined to try anyway.

  "Hey, Aiden, check this out." Ray pointed to the screen of his own computer. He had accessed the sex offender database to make the same comparisons. "This one seems like a perfect match: Caucasian, six-three, muscular build, black hair, blue eyes. Even the scars on his chin and forehead are mentioned."

  Aiden rounded her partner's desk and glanced down at the photograph on Ray's screen. Cold blue eyes seemed to look right back at her. He resembled the police artist's sketch. Was this the man who had raped Dawn?

  "The MO's similar, too," Ray said. "He broke into apartments at night, but he usually wore a condom."

  "He could still be our guy. The smart ones change MO just to throw us off stride," Aiden pointed out.

  Ray grinned. "I haven't told you the best thing yet. He's out on probation, so it won't be difficult to bring him in for a lineup."

  "Do we have a current address for him?" Aiden asked.

  Ray scribbled something on his notepad. "Yeah."

  "Let's go." Aiden took her service weapon from a desk drawer and clipped it to her belt.

  Ruben reached for the phone. "I'll call DDA Matheson and the victim down for a lineup."

  * * *

  Ray and Aiden took positions to the right and left of Ross Wade's apartment door and exchanged a quick glance.

  "Mr. Wade?" Ray shouted. He raised his fist and knocked on the door. "This is the police. Answer the door!"

  Every muscle in Aiden's body tensed as she heard steps nearing the door.

  The door opened slightly. A tall man looked down at them. "What do ya want?"

  Aiden forced herself to remain polite. She tried not to think about the fact that she might be face-to-face with Dawn's rapist. "Would you mind telling us where you were Saturday night between three and four a.m.?"

  "Why you cops harassing me?" Ross Wade folded his muscular arms across his chest.

  "You call it harassment; we call it investigation. There's been a rape in your old hunting grounds. So, where were you Saturday night?" Ray repeated.

  "In bed, asleep. I didn't rape nobody, man!" Ross Wade began to move back into the apartment.

  Aiden slapped her hand against the door to prevent him from closing it. "Right, you're the picture of innocence. Then I'm sure you won't mind accompanying us to the station for a lineup, would you?"

  Ross Wade smirked. "Right after I call my lawyer."

  * * *

  Aiden stood patiently at Dawn's side, their shoulders almost touching. They were looking through the one-way mirror into a still empty room. "Are you ready?" Aiden asked. She ignored the other people in the small observation room with them, concentrating only on Dawn.

  Dawn tightened her shoulders. "As ready as I'll ever be."

  The opening door interrupted their concentration. Aiden looked up, annoyed. She knew how emotionally draining the confrontation with her possible rapist was for Dawn, and she didn't want to drag it out unnecessarily. Her annoyance vanished when she saw Kade Matheson entering. She hadn't seen the Deputy District Attorney all week.

  Aiden stepped forward, meeting Kade halfway, and gestured back to Dawn. "Dawn Kinsley, this is Kadence Matheson, our DDA."

  She watched as the two women shook hands and couldn't help comparing them to each other. If anyone had wanted proof that Aiden had a particular type she was attracted to, these two would have refuted the theory. Dawn was at least four inches shorter and more curvaceous than the slender attorney whose regal bearing often made her appear taller than her five foot eight inches. Dawn's blond locks were in disarray because she had been running nervous hands through them for the last few minutes while Kade's straight red hair fell to her slender shoulders in perfect order.

  Dawn didn't appear as calm and collected as Kade – which wasn't surprising considering it wasn't Kade's rapist waiting in the next room but Dawn's. Under these circumstances you would have expected her to look small and insecure next to the confident DDA, but she didn't. In Aiden's eyes, Dawn possessed her own strength, a strength that didn't resemble Kade's cool confidence in the least. Somehow, Dawn appeared more down to earth, more approachable, more real than Kade.

  Flanked by Kade and Aiden, Dawn stepped back to the window.

  "We'll bring them in now, okay? You just identify him by number," Aiden said.

  Dawn nodded. She sucked in a breath when a cop opened the door and six men walked into the adjacent room in a single-file line.

  Aiden turned to face her, blocking Dawn from the one-way glass and the men behind it for a moment. "Don't be afraid," she said softly. "They can't see you. Just take your time." She moved back to stand beside Dawn. "Do you recognize anyone?"

  "Move away from the witness, Detective!" Wade's defense lawyer demanded.

  Aiden held up her hands and took another step back.

  Visibly irritated by the sudden distance between them, Dawn turned to look at her.

  Aiden nodded at the window, gently bringing Dawn's attention back to it. "Do you recognize anyone?"

  Dawn exhaled and stepped forward. She still avoided touching the glass and kept a careful distance. Her gaze flitted from face to face. "He's not in there!" She let out a trembling breath.

  "Are you sure?" Aiden asked. Her tired mind wandered back to countless other rape victims who, like Dawn, had been so sure that they would know their rapist anytime and anywhere, but when confronted with a lineup, they hadn't been able to identify him.

  "Yes. Yes, I'm sure." Dawn's voice was a little shaky, but she met Aiden's gaze steadily. "He's not here." Relief and disappointment were warring with each other on the pale face. Finally, fear won out. "Which means he's still out there, free to roam the streets of my neighborhood and rape anyone he wants."

  Aiden stepped back to her side. "We'll get him when the lab report comes in. He can't get to you again," she said fiercely. Just the thought of someone hurting Dawn made her blood boil. She hid any trace of her anger behind a calm expression, knowing that open displays of violent emotions would not help Dawn but scare her even further.

  She followed a triumphant defense attorney out of the room, making sure to stay close to Dawn as they walked across the busy squad room. Aiden searched the room for Mrs. Kinsley's friendly face but came up empty. "Your mother's not here?"

  "No. I have some errands to run after this... buying new glasses," Dawn pointed to the empty place at the bridge of her nose, "going to the hospital for my HIV and STD test results, making an appointment with Victim Services."

  Aiden lifted her brows. "You have to do all this on your own? Can I drive you anywhere?"

  "No, thanks. I... my mother and a few close friends have been very supportive, but..." Dawn stepped a little closer to Aiden when two detectives dragged a cuffed and swearing suspect through the squad room. "...to tell you the truth, they're not really helping so much as trying to take over. I know they mean well by trying to spare me from dealing with all this stuff, but by making my decisions, they're taking control away from me, and I can't stand that right now."

  Aiden nodded. She admired Dawn for knowing her own needs and feelings so well so soon after the rape. She wondered whether it was her professional background that made Dawn so insightful or
whether it was her introspective nature that had made her choose her profession. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. Philosophical thoughts before lunch? she mocked herself. You better get back to work, Carlisle!

  "Aiden?" Ray called from across the room. "Ruben and Okada are about to make an arrest in the Perez/Munos case, and they want us for backup. You coming?"

  Aiden reached for the leather jacket that hung over the back of her desk chair. Grabbing her keys, she looked back at Dawn, a question in her eyes.

  "I'm fine," Dawn said, reading the question as clearly as if she had asked it out loud. "Go on, Detective, serve and protect." She forced a smile onto her lips.

  It wasn't Juanita Perez she wanted to serve, and it wasn't Angela Munos she wanted to protect right this moment, but Aiden was a professional. She squared her shoulders and walked out of the door without looking back.

  CHAPTER 7

  "AND?" AIDEN LOOKED up from the report on her desk when Ray returned from the crime lab.

  "Forensics confirmed the presence of fluids. They also found prints that didn't belong to the vic or her family," Ray reported.

  "Who do they belong to?" Aiden steepled her fingers to avoid strangling her partner in her impatience.

  Ray sat down at his desk. "CODIS came up empty. They ran the prints and DNA through every available database, but they don't match anyone in the system. Our perp has no prior criminal record."

  Ruben wandered over with a cup of coffee. "So he's a first time offender?" he asked the more experienced detectives. "Someone completely new in the business?"

  "Hard to believe if you ask me. Ms. Kinsley got the distinct feeling that he had done it before." Ray looked down at the notes he had taken during Dawn's formal statement. He had circled some of the words: Has raped before? Criminal record/assault?

  Aiden shrugged. "Maybe Dawn's just the first victim willing to press charges. You know how many rapes go unreported."

  "Or he changed MO, and this was the first time he hasn't used gloves and a condom. Maybe he got overconfident and careless, thinking we couldn't get him even with DNA evidence," Ruben suggested.

  Aiden's teeth ground against each other. "If that's what he thought, then it seems as if he was right on target. We have nothing on him, not a single lead."

  Ray tapped some words on his notepad. "Dawn said he smelled of smoke and booze – maybe he had himself a little liquid courage in one of the neighborhood bars?"

  Ruben shook his head. "Nope, already checked. We've shown the police sketch around the neighborhood, including bars. No luck so far. No one remembers seeing a guy like him."

  "Same with the tapes from security cameras around the neighborhood. They didn't show anything related to the rape," Aiden reported. "Did Okada have any luck with cross-checking Dawn's personal information before he took off for court?"

  "We cross-checked every rape victim who used the same hair salon, dry cleaner, grocery story, or whatever," Ruben answered. "Some of them had one or two places in common with Dawn Kinsley, but their rapists are either still in prison or had a completely different MO."

  Ray looked down at the lab reports. "The fibers CSU found on the sheets and Dawn's clothing were white cotton, which tells us a whole lot of nothing. Seems we're totally out of leads."

  "Hmm." Aiden leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "Why didn't the bastard use a condom? Why did he leave such a ridiculously large amount of evidence behind? I mean, come on, guys! Every first grader in the country knows to wear gloves and not spread around his DNA like free candy."

  "Good old plain stupidity?" Ruben suggested. "Not every perp's a criminal mastermind, Aiden."

  Ray shook his head, agreeing with his partner. "No, there's something more behind it. Dawn said he wasn't exactly Einstein, but he seemed street-smart."

  "Why don't you ask our resident shrink if he agrees with the assessment of his esteemed colleague?" Lt. Astrid Swenson, leader of Portland's Sexual Assault Detail, said as she entered the squad room.

  Dr. Albert Renshaw followed closely behind the stocky lieutenant. The bearded psychiatrist looked down at the file in his hands. "Are you sure that the perpetrator is a stranger who just chose his victim by chance?" he asked, looking at the detectives. "He literally attacked not only the victim but also her bedroom furniture, her books, and her personal belongings. He seems to harbor some kind of personal anger toward her."

  "Dawn Kinsley, the victim, clearly stated that she didn't know him," Aiden said. "And he bumped into furniture and didn't seem to be familiar with the layout of the apartment."

  "Okay, so we can rule out old boyfriends, but what about a fleeting acquaintance or a neighbor she doesn't remember?" Renshaw took off his reading glasses and glanced at each detective. "Or he's the rapist of one of her clients... someone she testified against in court. Someone who hates her enough to hurt her and to let her know it was him who did it."

  Aiden shrugged. "I'll ask her about it when I call to update her on the investigation."

  * * *

  Aiden turned her desk chair for a little privacy, sitting with her back to the rest of the squad room. She pressed the phone to her ear and dialed the number she already knew by heart.

  She wasn't surprised when she heard Grace Kinsley's voice at the other end of the line instead of her daughter's. Since the rape, Dawn seemed to avoid answering the phone or opening the door. "Hello, Mrs. Kinsley," she said. "It's Detective Carlisle. Could I talk to your daughter, please?"

  "Oh, sorry, you just missed her, Detective," Grace Kinsley answered. "She went out, trying to buy a new bed and find someone willing to take the old one off her hands."

  Aiden could feel her brows rising in surprise. It had been three days since the rape, and Dawn was already throwing herself into solving the practical problems the assault had caused. She could understand the need to distract herself from constant thoughts of the rape and try to "get on with her life," but she knew that it was just a temporary solution.

  "Her childhood bed is too small if you have to sleep in it for more than a night, and she said she couldn't even close her eyes in the bed from her apartment anymore." Mrs. Kinsley sighed. "I worry when she leaves the house on her own, and I know she's afraid all the time, but she's too stubborn to accept any help. I think she wants to protect me from the reality of her... attack."

  "Most women in her situation feel the need to make their own decisions, to control their own lives," Aiden explained without betraying that Dawn had confided in her about how overwhelmed she felt by her family's attempts to help. "Did she take a car?" she asked, not really knowing why.

  "Yes. She hasn't used the MAX or the bus since the attack," Dawn's mother answered.

  It seemed, despite her courage and her professional background, Dawn was afraid of some of the same things other rape victims avoided. Nevertheless, she had forced herself to leave the security of her mother's home on her own.

  Aiden said good-bye to Mrs. Kinsley with the promise to call back later. A glance at her watch made her decide to clock out and head home. With no new leads, there was no need for overtime.

  She turned up the collar of her leather jacket when a light rain began to fall. Settling herself into the driver's seat of her car, she stared out of the windshield. She jingled the key and finally stuck it into the ignition, starting the car but not leaving the parking lot. She knew that she should head home and catch some much-needed sleep, but she also knew that she would find no peace until she had looked after Dawn. You're a cop, not a babysitter. You're responsible for catching her rapist, not for holding her hand. Nothing good will come of it if you keep crossing that line. As much as she wanted to be Dawn's friend, she was the detective investigating her case, first and foremost.

  The rain outside was getting heavier now, drumming against the windshield. Across the street from the station, a lone woman was trying to heave a large TV set out of a moving van and reach the safety of an open front door.

  A picture o
f Dawn flashed across her retina – a crying Dawn alone in her bedroom; trembling hands trying to take down the bed in which she had been raped and then dragging a bloodstained mattress across the yard while rain drenched her clothes and mingled with her tears.

  Aiden pressed her lips together and put the car in drive.

  * * *

  Aiden hadn't been sure if she would end up in front of Dawn's apartment building or her own until she parked the car. Five minutes, one short look around to make sure everything's all right, then it's back to your own place, she bargained with herself.

  She was halfway across the street when she discovered Dawn sitting in a small car parked in front of the building. Dawn was staring at the front entrance as if it were her mortal enemy.