14 - J. T. Ellison [100]
The watch captain had laughed when she ran in, tried to shoo her away, thinking she was some kind of freak. She stood her ground, announced herself with authority, gave her badge number and made a request that they call her captain. Immediately.
The watch captain realized she was the real deal and grabbed her a blanket. Calls were made, concerned glances given. It was Emily Callahan who had come to her rescue, pulling Taylor into her office, giving her food, then arranging a shower and getting her some warm clothes.
Callahan handed over socks, then a steaming cup of coffee. “Vanilla. The boys here are gourmets.” She rolled her eyes and Taylor laughed.
“I have a few of those myself. Starbucks has ruined us all.”
“You ready to talk to the LT? He’s waiting for you. Whenever you’re ready, no rush.”
Taylor gulped some of the coffee, happy just to have the warmth. It was sweet, almost too sweet, but she recognized that the sugar would be good for her. Callahan had been incredibly kind, fixed her up with some chicken soup, gave her a place to shower, gave her some space to sort through the jumbled-up emotions of the afternoon. The image of that man’s head in her hands flooded in, the sound…she shook it off. Flashbacks weren’t going to help things now.
Taylor’s stomach rumbled, not happy with her choice of beverage. Stress, she thought. She tried to distract herself.
“You been here long?” she asked.
Callahan looked happy that Taylor had chosen to talk. “The 108th? Long enough. I’ve been in the detective bureau for a year now. I’m hoping to move up a grade soon, but you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“How’d you make LT so young? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
“Worked my ass off, just like you’re doing. What are you, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?”
Callahan blushed. “Thirty-three. Thanks for the compliment.”
“I never was any good with ages. Just keep busting ass. It’ll come. We’re a smaller department, and we have lots of turnover in the higher ranks. The opportunities come around more often.” She sipped her coffee again, gained as much courage from the sugary bitterness as she would ever get.
“Let’s go do this.”
“Follow me. We’re going to be in the conference room, and it’s already pretty crowded.”
Callahan led Taylor down a hallway covered in flyer-filled corkboards. There was a sameness here that made Taylor comfortable. Cop shops were alike, no matter the locale.
She opened the door to a long room with a conference table. The room was packed.
Callahan made the introductions, going counterclockwise around the table.
“Lieutenant Tony Eldridge, Sergeant Robert Johnson, Davis Welton, D-1, Zach Brooks, D-2. This is Lieutenant Taylor Jackson, Metro Nashville Homicide.”
Lieutenant Eldridge unfolded like a brunette crane, all long legs and skinny frame. He shook her hand. “LT, so sorry you had to come here under these circumstances. Clothes fit okay? Do you need some more coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’d rather get this over with first. Have you been to the warehouse?”
Eldridge was looking at her with a sense of incredulity. “We went there. It was empty.”
“Fast,” Taylor murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean these were professionals. I killed one of their men and they got the scene cleared away that quickly? Surely you found something?”
Eldridge cleared his throat. “I have a team combing the place now, looking for anything we can get. So far, there’s a few partials and some urine on the floor, but not much else.”
“I counted at least three different people. One a six-foot-eight or -nine giant, the other about my height, slight build. Called himself Dusty. Creepy, nasty things, both of them. There was one more, definitely the head of