Public Enemy Zero

12

When Detective Rios arrived on the scene, there were already two squad cars, three ambulances and a cluster of parking enforcement vehicles outside the yellow tape perimeter. He parked next to Detective Simmons’s SUV and got out.

On the other side of the street, just inside the perimeter, were four parking enforcement officers gathered in a huddle. They’d heard the call on their radio and came to check on their fellow officer. One of them was talking in an excited manner and jerked his thumb over at a parked car near another parking cart.

The front window was completely smashed in. Several bloody handprints were on the hood and dashboard. Pieces of broken glass reflected light like tiny green diamonds sprayed with blood. The passenger side window looked kicked-in as well.

Usually when he saw a smashed-in window and that much blood, it was on a crumpled car in the middle of the highway. It looked out of place parked in a quiet neighborhood between two other cars. Other than a dent in the driver’s side door, the body looked intact.

Rios looked over at the nearest ambulance and spotted his partner. She was talking to a young woman in a stretcher. Paramedics were cleaning up injuries and taping up her hands in preparation for the trip to the hospital. Underneath the bruises and gashes on her face, she looked like she was probably an attractive girl. Who could do a thing like that to a young girl? The answer, he unfortunately knew, was lots of people.

He walked over to his partner. Simmons was still dressed in the pants suit she’d worn to court earlier that day. Dark hair, athletic and in her early forties, she was in better shape than most of the men in the department, himself included. Rios still worked out but was beginning to get the cop gut that came from spending more time taking kids to soccer practice than keeping in shape.

Rios waited behind Simmons as she talked to the girl. He knew not to interrupt that part of the investigation. She was good at getting people to relax and talk.

“So what happened?” Simmons asked in her most matter-of-fact tone. She preferred to let people talk in their own terms before drilling down for the particulars. Some cops started off with a check box kind of interrogation, which was aimed more at filling out an incident report than figuring out what was going on.

Rachel looked up from her arm where a paramedic was cleaning blood out of wounds on her knuckles. She was still in shock and not reacting to the stinging sensation. “My boyfriend … I mean my ex … he showed up and I … I answered the door…” Rachel paused and stared into space for a moment.

“What happened after you opened the door, Rachel?” asked Simmons.

“He … I don’t know … it just happened, you know. I don’t even think I said hello. And then it was just … I was on the ground trying to kick … I think to keep him off me.” She looked at Simmons as if she could explain what took place.

“So you’re on the ground.” Simmons looked at the metal clipboard in her hands. “So you’re on the top of the stairs by your apartment. Then what?”

“We were running.”

Simmons looked at the notes. “Mitch? Mitch was chasing you?”

“Um, I think so.”

“So where was your current boyfriend at the time?”

“Rick? Where is Rick?” Rachel tried to sit up but the paramedic gently held her down.

“He’s being treated right now. He’s going to be fine.” Simmons noticed Rios behind her and handed him the clipboard behind her back. “Can you remember where Rick was when you opened the door?”

“Treated? He was taking a shower. Why is Rick being treated? Did Mitch hurt him, too?”

Simmons pursed her lips. Rios had noticed it was her tell for when she was trying to make sense of something. “He’s going to be fine. When was the last time you remember seeing Rick?”

“When he was in the bathroom. I think that was it.”

“Did Rick approach Mitch? Did the two argue?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. No. I don’t even think they’ve ever met.”

“OK. We need to talk to Mitch. Do you have a number where we can reach him? Maybe a photo?”

Rachel turned her head to look around. “In my apartment. On the table.”

Rios looked at the clipboard. The first officer on the scene had taken down her address. It was only two streets over. “I can get it.”

Simmons turned to Rachel. “Do you mind if my partner goes into your apartment and gets your phone to bring to you? You can take it to the hospital with you if you like.”

Rachel nodded.

Rios looked at the apartment number and then handed the clipboard back to Simmons. “Be back in a second.”

He looked down and gave Rachel a smile. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if someone had done something like that to his own child or sister. He knew there were two sides to every story. In his mind, though, nothing could explain the smashed-up face and the scared and trembling girl. The anger turned what would have been a brisk walk into a fast jog to the apartment.

He took a shortcut and passed through a wooden gate next to a spilled-over garbage can. In the middle of the alley between the two buildings there was a metal gate on the ground. It looked like it had been ripped from it mountings. There was blood all over it. Some of the bars were bent in. He made a mental note to make sure they took that in as evidence.

Down the street he could see another ambulance. Paramedics were working on the current boyfriend. His right leg looked like a bloody mess. From where he was standing, it looked like they were just trying to stop the flow of blood before they took him to the hospital. The man was screaming out in agony.

He overheard one of the EMTs mention something about trying to “save it.” From the report Simmons let him look at, it looked like the man had walked three blocks on a green-stick fracture. How that was possible without being high out of your mind was beyond him. He was curious to find out what was in his blood when they took him to the hospital.

Rios reached the foot of the stairs. It was taped off as part of the crime scene. At the top of the stairs he could make out where part of the support bars had been bent in a little. There were a few drops of blood. He looked around and found another staircase leading up to the second level.

The screen door to the apartment had been ripped partially off its hinge and hung at a funny angle. The wooden door was wide open. Rios stepped inside and looked around. Well kept and in order, it didn’t look like the fight started inside. He could see wet footprints leading from the bathroom to the door. Those were most likely the current boyfriend’s, he assumed. Rios wondered if he was using but didn’t want to use the girl’s permission to get the phone as a pretext for looking for drugs.

Angry ex-boyfriend. New boyfriend. Girl. That was all you needed for a first-rate domestic disturbance. Add some alcohol to the raging testosterone and things got worse. How the parking officer figured into it was the next question. Rios would bet that she just ran into Mitch on the really wrong day.

From somewhere he heard a whimpering. His hand immediately went to the butt of his gun. He loved dogs, but dogs didn’t always love cops. He heard the whimper again. This was a small dog. Rios relaxed. He spotted a large couch and leaned down.

Under the couch, two scared-looking eyes peered back at him from locks of dirty blond hair. It was trying to hide behind his paws.

“It’s all right.” Rios patted the ground to see if the dog wanted to come out. “Your mommy is going to be fine.”

The dog didn’t want to budge. It just let out another whimper.

“OK, buddy. Stay there.” Rios made a mental note to shut the door before he left so the dog wouldn’t wander. They’d ask Rachel if she had someone to come take care of the animal. If not, the department had a person who would handle it.

Rios was a little surprised the dog was still there. Often in a domestic disturbance, it would follow the owner and give chase to the assailant like a good pack animal should. Of course, other times they just hid.

He found a phone on the kitchen table and assumed it was hers. The lock screen was a photo of the dog. As he pulled the door closed, he flashed the screen at the couch with the dog hiding under it. “Some protector you are.”

Rios walked back to the ambulances and handed the phone to Rachel. Simmons was talking to the detective who had interviewed the parking officer. While the woman’s injuries consisting mostly of lacerations, bruising and a probable concussion weren’t critical, the loss of blood was.

Rachel struggled with the phone but couldn’t operate it with her bandaged hands. Rios held out his hand. “Let me do that for you.”

She handed him the phone. “It should just be under ‘Mitch’.”

Rios scanned through her contact list. No Mitch came up. He looked again. Nothing. “Would it be under his last name?”

“No. Try Dickhead.” Embarrassed, Rachel looked off to the side.

Rios grinned. “Breakups are hard.” He scrolled through and found a phone number next to the entry for Dickhead. He noticed there were a few other obscenities in there as well. Not his business, he reminded himself.

He wrote the number down. “What about a photo?”

Rachel shook her head. “I deleted them all.” She thought for a moment. “He’s still on my Facebook, though. Go ahead. Do a search for Mitchell Roberts.”

Rios clicked open the Facebook application and looked up the name. One of the benefits of social networking was how easy it made finding photos of people and intimate details they’d never tell the police face to face. He found the photo. He was not quite what he was expecting. It was a friendly, affable face. Not that it mattered. Faces can hide a lot.

“Do you mind if I email this to myself?”

“Sure.”

He handed the phone back to Rachel. “I saw your dog back in there. He’s pretty scared. Do you have a friend who can come look after him?”

“What about Rick?”

Rios hesitated. “He hurt himself chasing after Mitch and is going to the hospital with you.”

“OK.” Rachel leaned back and closed her eyes.

Rios decided to leave her be for now.

The ambulance carrying the parking officer drove off. Rios half expected the other parking officers to follow after in a motorcade in their carts like cops did when an officer was shot. A supervisor came over to explain the situation to the parking officers.

Simmons finished talking to the detective who took the woman’s statement and walked over to Rios. In the background, a police photographer was taking photographs of the smashed-up car. He was trying to lean into the car without touching the glass. Rios morbidly wondered if he used the same camera to take photos of his family.

“This is going to be fun,” said Simmons as she neared him.

Rios arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Like the girl, she can’t give a coherent explanation as to what happened.”

“That’s not surprising. She’s still in shock. What’d you expect?” Rios would have been surprised if anyone who went through that and had at least a probable concussion could remember much of anything.

Simmons shook her head. “She talked a little. What she says is kind of mixed up. She says she was attacked, but when they asked her where, she said while she was outside the car and he was inside.”

“I’m sure she’ll sort things out.”

“Yeah, but when a defense attorney gets a hold of her first statement, it’s going to make his job a lot easier.”

Rios looked over at the smashed-in windshield and the splattered blood. His stomach churned at the thought of the guy getting away with it. “So, what’s our next step? Get him fast and get a confession?”

Simmons nodded. “Give him a call. See if he’s willing to walk in. The computer pulled up no priors, so it’s doubtful he lawyered up just yet. If we can get an incriminating statement, we can make the case sail through a lot easier.” A voice called out on her radio. She pulled it from her waist and answered.

Rios could overhear the dispatcher say something about the mall nearby.

Simmons put the radio back down. “We need to get over to the mall right now.” She looked around for the officer in charge of the crime scene.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of riot, or a fire. It sounds big.”