Tuesday, July 15^th 7:42pm
 

Henderson squatted down next to the beige sofa. She rested her latex gloved hand against its side, her eyes focused on the fold in the cushion on the arm rest.

"Has forensics sweeped the couch yet?" She yelled back over her shoulder to no one in particular. Someone walked over and crouched down next to her, but she was too focused to look to see who it was.

She held up her digital camera and snapped a picture just like she had done throughout the apartment.

"No, they're still busy in the bedroom." It was Jeff Hernandez and he was looking where she was as he spoke. "They did a preliminary sweep of the small blood stains on the carpet in here, but nothing on the couch.

Henderson backed off a little, not wanting to contaminate the sofa if it hadn't been cleared yet. The bedroom had been their focal point since arriving on the scene the day before. They had found it in complete disarray with the dresser drawers pulled out and dumped and any of the room's remaining content strewn all about. And accompanying the mess was a large amount of blood. Large pools of it on the floor as well as splatter patterns on the floor and walls. And whoever had been in the apartment when the blood shed had occurred had walked from the bedroom to the living room several times, trailing the blood with their shoes. Leaving shoe prints, boot prints to be exact.

So since yesterday, their team had been going over the bedroom with a fine tooth comb and apparently had yet to examine the sofa. She could understand why. The sofa was beige and showed no obvious signs of tampering. She stood up and retrieved a small baggie and a pair of tweezers from one of their kits and then returned to her squat next to couch.

"Jeff, how about giving me some light over here?" He rose quickly and turned one of their powerful standing lamps toward the sofa. He then walked over and stood next to Henderson.

"What've you got?" He bent down, resting his hands on his knees.

"You see that little piece stuck in between the back cushion of the couch and the cushion of the armrest?" She maneuvered the tweezers to the point of focus and hovered them above the reflective piece protruding slightly from between the cushions.

"What is it?"

"Not sure, but it looks..." She grabbed the small, shiny white piece with the tweezers and held it up in front of the light. "Like a tooth." She finished her sentence as she examined it carefully.

"It sure does." Jeff said as he took a closer look. "And it looks like it was knocked out pretty hard, too."

"Mmm." Henderson agreed as she eyed the tooth. It appeared to be a front tooth, long and thinner than a molar and separated from its source without the root.

She stood and placed it carefully in the plastic baggie. "Hey guys, we need forensics in here on the couch!" She yelled into the back room, producing two white suited young men carrying tackle boxes. "I found this embedded between the two cushions over there." The men shook their heads and began carefully vacuuming the sofa for any trace fiber evidence.

"What're you thinking Jeff?" He walked up to stand next to her and they both continued to look at the tooth in the baggie.

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck and began to look around. "She's gone. Or someone sure wants us to think she's gone."

"Uh huh. Most likely dead or seriously injured." Henderson knew the blood they had found was of human origin and O positive, Reece's blood type. But that didn't mean it was hers, or even if it was, it didn't mean she was dead. But if it was her blood, she was at the very least seriously injured. And now the tooth. Whoever the tooth belonged to, it was knocked out of their head at great force.

"Right." They both turned and watched as the two men lifted the cushions off the couch, revealing a small splatter of blood on the arm rest where the tooth was found.

"If someone did come in here and attack Reece they confronted her out here first." Henderson stated, thinking things through in her mind.
 

"They struck the first blows out here, where she lost the tooth." Jeff added.

"Yes, then she fled to the bedroom where they had the major confrontation." Henderson finished for him. It had been over twenty four hours and they still had no leads as to where Kristen Reece was. What was worse was that their surveillance team had pretty much cleared Adams of being around Reece during those vital early morning hours when she disappeared. They had followed Adams from the club to her home back up in the hills where she had stayed throughout the night alone.

"Here, mark it and rush it to the lab." She handed Jeff the tooth and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" He called after her.

"La Femme."

……. …….. …….. …….. …….. …….. ………. …….. …….. ……… ……. ……
 

Henderson walked into the night club and headed for the bar. Anger and frustration fed her heart, encouraging it to pump harder and faster, spreading her discontent throughout her tense body.

La Femme was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night and she looked around at the mass of women dancing, laughing, embracing. Velvet Revolver's Slither pounded from the speakers, paralleling her anger. The bar was crowded and she came to a stand still behind the group of waiting women, some wanting a drink, some wanting drugs, all wanting a lay. She thought about turning sideways and winding her way through them, but she needed to see who was working the bar before she worked her way up there, entrapping herself in all the women.

She felt a hand on her arm from behind, halting her progress and she was about to turn to voice her protest when a deep voice sounded in her ear.

"Hello Patricia." She froze and her body went frigid and ramrod straight as recognition of the voice took effect. She turned and looked into the bright blue eyes that had always been so easy to drown in.

"Hello Liz." Her voice did little to hide her anger and resentment.

"Let's go somewhere where we can talk." Adams gently took her hand and began pulling her through the crowd.

Henderson thought briefly about protesting, but decided against it. Her anger and determination fueled her confidence, allowing it to burn hot and fierce within her. The crowd soon parted when they saw it was Adams who was wanting through and they stared and wooed as they always did, casting Henderson daggers dripping with jealousy.

They walked past Tyson who stood guarding the private staircase with his massive arms crossed across his equally massive chest. He nodded his shiny bald head in acknowledgement as they walked by and headed up the stairs.

Henderson pulled her hand away from Adams and climbed up the stairs without assistance behind the dark woman. Adams didn't look back at the break in contact, and Henderson examined her from behind. Worn blue jeans fit snuggly to her long, strong legs, while a tight threadbare white tank top hugged her trim torso and muscularly defined back. Henderson looked away, reminding her libido that Adams was no longer attractive to her, she was a killer, a murderer.

They stepped into the dimly lit V.I.P. room and Henderson was surprised when Adams didn't stop and turn to offer her a seat on one of the several overstuffed sofas and chairs. Instead, they continued through the room, passing by a few moaning women, engrossed in one another in a heated sexual encounter on one of the sofas. Adams led the way to her lair, where she typed in her code on the locked door and then allowed Henderson to enter before her into the private room.

"I see the place hasn't changed much." Henderson said as she walked in and looked around. Not much had changed since she was last in the room. Not much at all. Memories of their sexual escapades flooded her mind and she had to swallow back some surfacing desire.

"Why change a good thing?" Adams closed the door behind them.

"I hope you at least changed the sheets." Henderson was in no mood for light chit chat. She hated what Adams had done to her and she hated how out of control she still made her feel.

Adams raised a questioning eyebrow at her, the coldness of the remark not escaping her. "Maybe if you had stuck around, I wouldn't have had to change them."

"Hah." Henderson scoffed. "From what I saw, you didn't need me." Her face became heated with angry blood as she looked at the bed and remembered walking in on Adams and another woman making love. Hard as she tried, the image of them sweaty and sticky and locked in an uncompromising position, never would leave her for good. The image remained with her along with the pitted feeling of betrayal.

Adams walked over to the private bar and filled two glass tumblers with ice. "I told you, Patricia, it was just sex. It had nothing to do with the way I felt about you."

"That was the problem, Liz. Everything with you was always just sex. Including me."

Adams opened up an expensive bottle of scotch and filled their glasses. "That's where you're wrong. You know you meant more to me than that." She walked over to Henderson and handed her the scotch. "Still a scotch drinker?" Adams sat down on the sofa and motioned for Henderson to join her. "Please have a seat."

Henderson took the glass and sat down across from her former lover. She sipped the scotch and eyed Adams, who sat relaxed and braless in the threadbare tank top. Henderson looked away from the vision of the dark nipples trying to poke through the tank top and sipped a little more at her drink.

"Let's cut the bullshit, Liz. Why are we here?" She needed to stay mad, it made it easier to handle Adams.

Adams set her drink down on the coffee table and sat back to cross her long legs with a black booted ankle resting on her knee.

"That's what I want to know Patricia. Why are you here?" Her voice was calm, yet silently demanding.

"What do you mean?" Henderson rimmed her glass with her finger, while she locked eyes with the piercing blue ones across from her.

"What are you doing in my club?" The voice was growling now, a warning.

"I just want to get laid like everybody else." She laughed a little while shrugging her shoulders.

"Now who's bullshitting?" Adams raised an eyebrow. "I've been told that you and your people have been harassing some of my girls, some of my paying patrons. I don't appreciate it and I'm asking you that it stop."

Henderson laughed heartily now and she set her drink down on the table and stood. "Tell us the truth about the murders and we'll back off. Until then, we'll be all over you and your women." She moved to walk to the door and Adams stood to follow, stopping her from behind.

"I've already told you, I don't know anything about any murders." She was still angry, but her voice had lowered a little and she stepped closer to Henderson, pressing her scantily covered breasts against the back of her arm, while her fingers wrapped around Henderson's elbows. She leaned in and spoke in her ear.

"Tell me, Patricia. Do you still taste like honey?" Henderson shuddered at the words and the raspy, sex laced voice in her ear. "I can still remember exactly the way you taste. Like warm, sweet honey, right out of the hive."

Henderson swallowed hard and she fought the urge to turn to hit her, knowing that Adams would block the blow and then pull her against her passionately for a deep, knowing kiss. It had happened many times before, but this time she wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. Adams was different now. She was no longer just a cheat, she was a murderer.

"I haven't had honey in such a long time, Patricia. Let me taste you, let me run my tongue up deep into your hive."

The words were fighting within her, winning the battle against her anger and she had to force herself to pull away, to walk hastily out of the door and away from Elizabeth Adams. She should have known better than to go traipsing upstairs with Adams, alone. It had never been hard for the dark woman to turn her on, to get under her skin. But then again, sex had never been their problem. At least she didn't think so. But apparently she hadn't been enough for Adams.

She headed quickly back down the stairs and tried her best to clear her mind and her aching nerve endings of Adams. She stepped down into the dancing wave of women. T.A.T.U. was singing how "they're not gonna get us" as Henderson pushed and slithered her way through the sweaty women. She made her way to the bar and shoved her way up to its edge. Kristen Reece was no where to be found, but that didn't surprise her in the least. Reece wasn't who she was looking for tonight. The young pierced girl behind the bar slid a drink napkin in front of her.

"What can I get you?" Her hair was so black it was almost blue and as she turned, Henderson could indeed make out a blue streak running down the side of her head.

"Water. And you."

The girl had bent to fetch the bottle of cold water and she made eye contact with Henderson as she came back up to hand her the water.

"That'll be a dollar fifty, and I'm not for sale."

Henderson eyed the studded collar on her neck, the ring through her lip and eyebrow, the black fingernails.

"What's your name?" She unscrewed her water and took a large gulp, hoping it would put out the flame burning within her ignited by Adams and her words.

"Blade." The girl answered rolling her eyes.

"Of course it is. Blade is a very tough, scary name. But somehow I don't think you're so tough and you're certainly not scary."

The girl didn't respond she just stood staring and eventually she began to mindlessly wipe the bar.

"I'm Patricia." Henderson decided to try again.

"Yeah I know who you are." Blade continued to wipe the bar absently.

"You do?"

"Yeah, you're that fucking cop who was in here the other night asking questions. I never forget a face." Blade nervously licked her dark lips and Henderson wondered if the lip ring was painful, or if it, like other painful things, eventually became numb. Ever present, but still numb nonetheless, until it was messed with.

Henderson leaned on the bar with her elbows, knowing the nice approach wasn't working.

"Let's go somewhere and talk."

"Not interested."

Blade wasn't intimidated by her in the least, but at least she knew she was making her sweat. Henderson watched her as she looked past the bar and towards Tyson. Henderson also knew that Adams was also probably watching them as well from her security cameras.

"Why not?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"We don't have to talk. We can do something else." Henderson placed her hand on top of the young girls who immediately stopped wiping the bar and looked at her, completely startled.

"No thanks, you're not my type."

"Why?"

She looked past Henderson for the second time back towards Tyson.

"Because you're old and you're a cop." Her eyes floated back down to Henderson's who merely laughed.

"Hey, us cops need to get laid too, ya know."

"I said no, now fuck off."

Henderson tightened her loose grip on Blades hand and she watched as the young girl's brown eyes widened with surprise.

"And I'm saying to you that you will leave with me now without causing a scene or I'll arrest you right here and now."

"What for?" She remained perfectly still, the vein in her neck giving away her true fear as it pulsed quickly.

"For distributing narcotics for starters." Henderson stood, removing her hand from the pierced bartenders.

Blade opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

"You think we don't know about your peddling on the side? We do. But the real question is, does your employer know?" Blades eyes grew wide once again and she looked nervously around afraid someone of importance was over hearing. "You see, I've noticed that you always sell your drugs over there," she pointed to the dimmer side of the bar. "Away from the cameras. How do you think Ms. Adams will feel about you pocketing all her profits?"

Henderson knew Adams was aware of the distribution of drugs in her club. But she also knew that the girls gave Adams a majority of the profits. Of course, it was all done so that Adams could claim that she never knew. But Henderson knew differently, and she knew that Adams would be furious if she found out that one of her girls was holding out on her and pocketing all the profits.

Blade put down the bar rag and walked around to the edge where she let herself out. She walked slowly over to Henderson and shoved her hands in the pockets of her baggy black Dickies.

"Let's go."

Henderson smiled at her and threw her arm around her shoulder. "Follow my lead." They made their way through the crowd to the front entrance where Tyson confronted them.

"Blade, where are you going?" His voice was deep and booming.

"We were just going home." Henderson said while turning to nuzzle Blade's neck.

"Your shift's not over." He crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving Blades.

"Yeah, well it is now." Henderson said while turning to look at the big black man. "Right sweetie?" She placed her finger on Blade's chin and tilted it towards her own.

Blade smiled at her and turned back to Tyson. "Right." She wrapped her arm around Henderson's waist and they walked around him and out the door.

Once outside Blade tried to pull away but Henderson held her tightly.

"Keep your arm around me until we get in the car." Blade complied and they walked wrapped around each other until they reached Henderson's Blazer.

"You realize that you probably just cost me my job." Blade said angrily as she climbed up into the truck.

"You're better off." Henderson started the truck and drove out of the parking lot.

"Fuck you, you fucking pig." Blade seethed as she sat with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. "You don't know how bad I need that money, you had no right. This has got to be kidnapping or something."

Henderson sat and drove completely unaffected by the harsh words. She had heard far worse over the years. "I know you need the money for art school and I know that you keep that a secret. I guess art school wouldn't do much for your tough girl act." She kept her eyes straight ahead as she delivered the words calmly.

Blade jerked around in her seat and stared at Henderson, her mouth agape.

"Who the hell are you and what gave you the right?"

Henderson slowed the truck as they approached a red light.

"I told you my name is Patricia and I have every right to find out everything about you. You work at La Femme don't you?" She turned to face her young rival. "Well as you may know we are investigating the club's owner Elizabeth Adams for murder."

Blade continued to sit in silence, shock riveting her body.

"That gives us every right to find out all we can about her, her club and her employees."

"But why me, this has nothing to do with me." Blade declared, her voice higher pitch than the meaner, deeper sounding voice from before.

Henderson started to drive once again as the light turned green. "Because you might have some information that we need. Information about Kristen Reece, our other suspect."

"I don't know anything. I already told you people that."

"And because your father is a cop back in Minnesota and because he is expecting you to fully cooperate with us."

Henderson heard Blade suck in a panicked breath of air. "You can't do this!" She tried to jerk on the door handle to open the door.

"Relax it's locked." Blade stopped pulling on the handle and reached for the lock itself. "And if you try to run again I'll arrest you right hear and now for possession of narcotics."

Blade looked at her with her hand held over the lock, mentally contemplating her decision.

"How much E do you have on you right now Tracy? How much GHB, poppers?" Henderson pulled into a corner convenient store and put the truck in park. The use of the Blade's real name had seemed to drain any remaining color from her face. She let her hands fall from the door and into her lap.

"All I'm asking is that you just tell me what you know. What you may have seen or heard. Anything you know may help us."

"And then you'll let me go?"

"As long as you haven't done anything criminal." Henderson noted how young and frail the nineteen year old girl suddenly looked.

"What about the drug charges?" Her brown eyes were large and liquid as she fought back tears.

"If you cooperate there will be no drug charges."

Blade shook her head ok and Henderson climbed down out of her truck.

"Where are you going?" Blade looked over and asked, suddenly very afraid.

"To get you some cigarettes. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

"But I really don't know anything." Blade pleaded.

"That you know of." Henderson started to push the door closed.

"How do you know I won't run?"

"Because you're name isn't Blade and you really aren't tough and scary. You name is Tracy Walsh and you're scared shitless."

Henderson shut the door and walked into the convenient store to buy the girl some cigarettes and herself a large fountain drink. She had no idea what the girl knew, if anything at all but she knew that by taking her, Adams would sweat a little more. She would question every last soul in the club thoroughly if she had to. And she knew that this kid in her car, this Blade, was basically a good kid who was possibly in way over her head.

With her goods in tow, Henderson climbed back in the truck and they drove in silence to the station. Blade stared aimlessly out the window, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. Every once in awhile Henderson saw the young girl wipe a tear from her cheek. For a young girl who had never been in trouble with the law, the current situation must be pretty frightful.

They came to a stop in front of the station and Henderson led the way inside, weaving through hallways and desks until they reached the homicide division. She thought about questioning Blade in one of their interrogation rooms so she would be able to smoke but when she turned and saw her pale and drawn face she decided the tiny room was out of the question.

"Have a seat." Henderson offered as she sat down at Stewart's desk and set down her drink and cigarettes. She knew he wouldn't mind if the girl smoked at his desk. Blade sat down slowly in the chair across from the desk. Henderson slid the pack of cloves and a lighter across the desk and Blade eyed them and took the pack tentatively.

"Are those any good?" Henderson asked as she rose to retrieve her files from her desk along with a small tape recorder which she immediately turned on.

"They're alright." Blade opened the pack of Djarums with trembling hands and placed one in her mouth. "How did you know what I smoke?"

"I know a lot about you Tracy." Henderson returned to sit down across from the tough girl wanna bee.

"It scares me…that you know so much." She lit the dark cigarette and sucked in an appreciative drag. Her shoulders instantly relaxed as the familiar comfort of the cigarette entered her lungs.

"Do you mind if I tape record our session?"

Blade shrugged.

"You have to verbally say yes or no."

"It's ok." She replied softly.

"Let's talk about other things that scare you. Does your boss scare you? Elizabeth Adams?"

Blade shrugged her shoulders and took another drag of the sweet smelling clove. She wiped her free hand on her white t-shirt which read "take me for a ride."

"Have you ever spoken to Ms. Adams?" Henderson knew the girl wasn't Adam's type and it was possible that the two had never spoken, that Blade could have been hired and supervised solely by Kristen Reece.

"Once or twice." Her brown eyes were shifty, looking around the desk and avoiding Henderson altogether.

"What did you talk about?"

Blade shrugged her shoulders once again.

"Work? Did you talk about work?"

"I guess." She drew in a shaky breath.

"When was the last time you spoke to Ms. Adams?" Henderson opened up a file, discouraged about how the interview was going so far.

"Yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?"

"She came up to me and some of the other girls and told us not to talk to the cops."

"Is that all?" Henderson removed some photographs from her files.

"Well, one girl asked why and Liz fired her on the spot."

Henderson looked up and met the large brown eyes across from her.

"And that's why you're so afraid to talk to me, for fear of losing your job?'

Blade laughed a little at the question. "Nah man. I figure I already lost my job the second I left with you."

"Then why so afraid?"

She took another drag, sucking on it like it was provided her the courage to talk.

"All this…murder and everything. I didn't know any of this. I thought she just hated cops like everyone else."

"You didn't know she was being investigated for murder?"

"No."

"What about when we questioned you and some of the others the other night? That didn't give you a clue?"

"The one cop asked me if I ever talked to Liz, heard her say things about some guys, stuff like that. Nothing about murder."

Henderson sighed and then pushed some photographs across the table for Blade to view.

"This is why we are asking questions Tracy. Look at the photographs."

Blade sat forward in her chair and glanced at the crime scene photographs. "Oh God." She covered her mouth and looked away.

"These men all had families, people that loved them. And they all had one thing in common." She waited for the girl to look back at her before she continued. "They all gave Elizabeth Adams trouble and she threatened the lives of all of them."

Blade let her hand fall away from her mouth and she nervously licked her lips. "I..I didn't know, I swear." She allowed her eyes to look back at the photos. "What's wrong with them, why do they look like..."

"That's what happens when a body sits out in the desert sun. It cooks."

Blade covered her mouth again and looked away. "Put them away please."

Henderson scooped up the pictures and put them back in their files. "Let's talk about something else."

Blade looked at her once again and sucked on her clove. "Anything but that."

"How well do you know Kristen Reece?"

"Kris? I know her pretty well I guess."

Henderson sat up straighter in her chair, hope spilling into her blood.

"Do you know where she is right now?"

Blade shook her head no as she thought about the question. "Nah, she hasn't been into work."

"Have you heard anything about her, maybe from the other girls?" Henderson began nervously clicking her ball point pen.

Blade started to shake her head no but then stopped. "Someone said that she took off the other night after fighting with Liz."

"They were fighting?"

"Yeah, that night you guys came and questioned all of us. Kris was pissed off man and I saw her storm up to Liz's room and that was the last time I saw her. And then one of the other girls saw her leave after that, all pissed off. She said someone had heard them arguing."

"That's all you know? You don't know what they were arguing about?"

She shook her head no and stubbed out her clove in the glass ashtray on the desk. "No one heard what they were fighting about and I just figured they were arguing like they always do."

"How so?"

"You know, like lovers. They were always bitching at each other."

"Tracy, this is important. Have you ever seen someone else talking to Kris and Liz? Hanging out with them?"

She thought for a moment and then shook her head no. "Nah, no one."

"Did Kris have a girlfriend?"

"No. She was always hung up on Liz. She had one night stands and stuff but no one serious."

Henderson shook her head in understanding. "Have you ever been to Kris's apartment?"

"Huh uh. What's going on with Kris?" She began fingering her silver skull ring, twisting it around and around her finger.

"She's missing Tracy. And we think she's tied to these murders."

"Kris? I don't know man. I can't imagine her doing that to those guys."

Henderson sighed again and rubbed her temples. She reached down and turned off the tape recorder. She glanced back up at the vulnerable nineteen year old sitting so pale and scared in the chair across from her. The only thing the young girl had done was to convince her even more that Adams was involved in the disappearance of Kristen Reece.

Her cell phone rang and vibrated from its place on her belt. She plucked it out of its carrier and flipped it open.

"Henderson."

"Yeah, it's Stewart." He wheezed out in an excited tone. "We need you over at Reece's apartment."

"Why what's up?" She wasn't quite sure if she was finished with Blade or not.

"We found a fucking gold mine that's what's up!"

"What?" She plugged her free ear with her finger, wanting and needing to hear him better.

“Behind one of her air vents, we found it all. The knife, the tranquilizer, the God Damned smoking gun!”

Henderson felt her blood heat up and pump violently through her body, carrying massive amounts of adrenaline with it.

“I’ll be right there.” She flipped her phone closed and clipped it back to her belt.

“Can I go now?” Blade asked, having heard Henderson’s end of the conversation.

“Yeah you can go. I’ll drive you home.”