mystery meat they'd tried to serve her on the plane. It was already four o'clock however, rush hour traffic would be a bear, and she didn't want to miss the change of shifts at the state police barracks. Dinner would have to wait.
She headed straight for the Virginia state police station that had handled Mandy's case, and hoped she got lucky.
An hour and a half of cursing and swearing later, she found state trooper Vince Amity just striding out the door.
"Officer Amity?" she called out, as the desk sergeant waved vaguely in his direction, then went back to reading the latest edition of the
FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin.
The officer in question paused, realized he was being waved down by an attractive young woman, and halted with more interest.
Rainie seized the opportunity to give him her most charming smile. The smile didn't get much practice, but it must have been good enough because Officer Amity walked back toward her. At six five, he was a big boy with broad shoulders, thick neck, and a jaw line only Jay Leno would love. Rainie was guessing Swedish ancestors and football. Lots of football.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" Big Boy had a southern drawl. Damn, she liked that. Before things got all warm and cuddly, however, Rainie flashed her Pi's license. Officer Amity's face promptly fell. Another fine romance nipped in the bud.
"I have some questions regarding an MVA homicide," she started off. "You worked the case about a year ago."
No response.
"The case is closed now – driver died at the hospital, but I'm clarifying some of the details for the family."
Officer Amity said, "I gotta go on patrol now."
"Great. I'll go with you."
"No, ma'am. Civilians can't accompany officers on patrol. Too much liability."
"I won't sue."
"Ma'am – "
"Officer. Look, I flew all the way here from Portland, Oregon, to get answers to my questions. The sooner you start talking, the sooner we can both move on with our lives."
Officer Amity scowled. Given his size, the look really worked for him. Rainie figured the minute he stepped out of his patrol car, most perps dropped obediently to the pavement and held out their wrists for the bracelets. As a woman, she'd never had his advantage. She'd had to wrestle most of her hostiles to the ground. The thing about that, however, was it meant she'd built her career by always being ready for a fight.
Officer Amity was still working the scowl. She folded her arms. Waited. Waited. Big Boy caved with a sigh.
"Let me check in with dispatch," he said. "Then I'll meet you at my desk."
Rainie nodded. Not being a dummy, she followed him to dispatch – police stations had back doors. Five minutes later, they sat across from each other at a beat-up desk, both armed with hot cups of coffee, and got into it.
"April twenty-eight," Rainie said. "Lastyear. Single-car accident. SUV versus man walking a dog versus a telephone pole. The SUV got the man and dog. The telephone pole got the SUV. Kind of like an obscene version of rock, paper, scissors." "Female driver?"
"Yep, Amanda Jane Quincy. The accident put her in a coma. Last month, her family pulled the plug. I have a copy of the police report right here."
Officer Amity closed his eyes. "Her fathers the fed, right?"
"There you go."
"I should have known," he muttered, and sighed again, a rumbling sound deep in his chest. He opened his desk, drew out a spiral notebook bearing last year's date, and began flipping through the pages.
Rainie waited for him to refresh his memory with his personal notations, then plunged in. "You were the only officer at the scene?"
"Yes, ma'am." "Why?"
"Everybody was pretty much dead. There's not a whole lot police officers can do about that."
"The driver wasn't dead. Plus, you have at least one fatality and preliminary signs that the driver was operating a vehicle while impaired. In Oregon, that's already the makings of neg homicide if not manslaughter. Surely that's worth calling out a traffic investigation
She headed straight for the Virginia state police station that had handled Mandy's case, and hoped she got lucky.
An hour and a half of cursing and swearing later, she found state trooper Vince Amity just striding out the door.
"Officer Amity?" she called out, as the desk sergeant waved vaguely in his direction, then went back to reading the latest edition of the
FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin.
The officer in question paused, realized he was being waved down by an attractive young woman, and halted with more interest.
Rainie seized the opportunity to give him her most charming smile. The smile didn't get much practice, but it must have been good enough because Officer Amity walked back toward her. At six five, he was a big boy with broad shoulders, thick neck, and a jaw line only Jay Leno would love. Rainie was guessing Swedish ancestors and football. Lots of football.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" Big Boy had a southern drawl. Damn, she liked that. Before things got all warm and cuddly, however, Rainie flashed her Pi's license. Officer Amity's face promptly fell. Another fine romance nipped in the bud.
"I have some questions regarding an MVA homicide," she started off. "You worked the case about a year ago."
No response.
"The case is closed now – driver died at the hospital, but I'm clarifying some of the details for the family."
Officer Amity said, "I gotta go on patrol now."
"Great. I'll go with you."
"No, ma'am. Civilians can't accompany officers on patrol. Too much liability."
"I won't sue."
"Ma'am – "
"Officer. Look, I flew all the way here from Portland, Oregon, to get answers to my questions. The sooner you start talking, the sooner we can both move on with our lives."
Officer Amity scowled. Given his size, the look really worked for him. Rainie figured the minute he stepped out of his patrol car, most perps dropped obediently to the pavement and held out their wrists for the bracelets. As a woman, she'd never had his advantage. She'd had to wrestle most of her hostiles to the ground. The thing about that, however, was it meant she'd built her career by always being ready for a fight.
Officer Amity was still working the scowl. She folded her arms. Waited. Waited. Big Boy caved with a sigh.
"Let me check in with dispatch," he said. "Then I'll meet you at my desk."
Rainie nodded. Not being a dummy, she followed him to dispatch – police stations had back doors. Five minutes later, they sat across from each other at a beat-up desk, both armed with hot cups of coffee, and got into it.
"April twenty-eight," Rainie said. "Lastyear. Single-car accident. SUV versus man walking a dog versus a telephone pole. The SUV got the man and dog. The telephone pole got the SUV. Kind of like an obscene version of rock, paper, scissors." "Female driver?"
"Yep, Amanda Jane Quincy. The accident put her in a coma. Last month, her family pulled the plug. I have a copy of the police report right here."
Officer Amity closed his eyes. "Her fathers the fed, right?"
"There you go."
"I should have known," he muttered, and sighed again, a rumbling sound deep in his chest. He opened his desk, drew out a spiral notebook bearing last year's date, and began flipping through the pages.
Rainie waited for him to refresh his memory with his personal notations, then plunged in. "You were the only officer at the scene?"
"Yes, ma'am." "Why?"
"Everybody was pretty much dead. There's not a whole lot police officers can do about that."
"The driver wasn't dead. Plus, you have at least one fatality and preliminary signs that the driver was operating a vehicle while impaired. In Oregon, that's already the makings of neg homicide if not manslaughter. Surely that's worth calling out a traffic investigation
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