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< < Angela was at once flattered and uncomfortable.
The building was a maze of hallways. She'd been here several times before, and yet she still got lost. The route was clotted with uniforms, plainclothes, and civilians.
And yet she neither had to ask the way or wait to pass.
Up the front stairs. "Hey, good to see you!"
In the lobby. "Missed your smile."
At the desk. "Come on, I'll take you up."
Down the back hall. "What a pleasant surprise!"
Waiting for the elevator. "What, no bag lunch?" "She doesn't want to spoil him."
Off the elevator. "Angela, right? He just got back."
In the doorway. "Haven't seen you in a while."
From across the room. "Uh-oh... I hope you're not here on official business." "Very funny, Lou."
"Yo, Detective Aquino. Visitor."
He didn't look up.
"You're back."
"Yeah." She waited a moment for visual acknowledgement.
She didn't get it. "What's up."
"I looked for you yesterday." Sunday.
"Went to the game with Ricky." He put down a file folder and turned to his computer. His fingers floated over the keyboard -- not as fast as Ricky, but faster than her. For some reason Angela thought all police detectives were required to hunt-and-peck.
"Oh." She sat down in the chair across from his desk.
"What's up," he repeated. Still no glance, no nod, no gesture. Like he was talking to a ghost.
Angela felt her anxiety build. She would have liked it better if he'd been mad at her. At least that would be something. This was like... like nothing had ever happened. Like he didn't know her.
It was belittling. And that made her angry.
But she didn't want to get into a fight. She was here on business.
"How's it going?"
It took him a moment. His typing paused. "I don't really have time for a social visit." Typing resumed.
"I meant with the case."
"I can't discuss it."
"Why not?"
Big sigh. "Because it's against the rules."
"But I was the one who told you about it."
Noel stopped typing. Hands pulled back from the keyboard to rest on the desk on either side. His head swiveled slowly; his look was almost hostile.
"Oh. *That* case."
His chair swiveled now; he leaned forward on one elbow. "I told you the other day-"
She cut him off. "You told me you'd get someone to look into it."
"...and I will," he finished. So he hadn't done anything yet?! "But there's a lot of other things going on right now."
He was trying to get rid of her. It was like she was just a stranger off the street, some nervous citizen who watched too much TV news and thought she saw something suspicious.
No, it wasn't even that. Noel was dismissing her report out of spite.
She was getting the brush-off.
Noel raised an eyebrow, as if to say "are we done?"
Angela took a deep breath. It was one thing to treat her coldly because of personal differences. It was another to just ignore good information about a major crime.
"That's not good enough."
Noel's eyebrow fell as if she'd smacked it down. His face hardened. "It'll have to be."
Angela couldn't believe it! She was trying to do things the right way. She honestly didn't care *what* Noel thought of her anymore -- actually, better if he *didn't* like her after the way things had gotten weird between them -- but it was important that Ricky knew she was taking crimefighting seriously, and being careful and smart about it.
But if the police weren't even going to *listen* to her...!
"Fine," she snapped, getting up. "I'll do it all myself." She turned sharply on her heel and strutted for the door.
"Angela, wait." She ignored him, halfway across the office now.
"Angela! Hold on a minute!" Loud enough to make the other detectives fall silent and stare.
Angela turned slowly. Hands on cocked hips. "What?"
"Come on."
"What for?"
"Just... come on." He motioned with his arm.
Angela let out a dramatic sigh, and strutted back, head held high -- she didn't want anyone thinking she was obeying Noel, she was merely indulging him.
"Sit down," he gestured. He sat on the edge of his desk -- casual, relaxed, off-the-record. But it also put him in a position of looking down at her, and Angela bristled at that.
"Angela," he started, his voice low, eyes darting about the room to see if the other detectives were still listening, "I appreciate you coming to me with this. I really do. But you have to understand, police work is more than just busting down doors with guns drawn."
"I know that," she said, frustrated. He wasn't trying to be condescending, but that's the way it was coming out.
"Then you should also know that we have limited resources, and we have to prioritize."
"I know that," she repeated, an edge to her voice.
"So when you come to me on a Saturday and the only thing you tell me is you chased-" he cut himself off, eyes darting again, voice lowering again, slowing down and choosing his words more carefully, "you saw an expensive car pull into a warehouse, and then you come back on Monday and expect... I don't know what... well, I don't think it's fair to criticize."
"I told you-" now Angela paused, hearing the nervous look-busy shufflings around her. She leaned forward, voice barely above whisper, "I told you a lot more than that."
"Come on," Noel said, slipping down off his desk, "let's go somewhere we can talk."
He led her into the stairwell at the end of the hall. A moment of silence allayed fear of eavesdroppers. "Now, Angela, I know you think you brought me an open-and-shut case, but it doesn't work like that. I don't think you understand how these chop shops work, and what it takes to shut them down. I can guarantee you if I show up there with a warrant this afternoon, we won't find anything. Not that I could get a warrant based on your report."
"Why not? I mean, he practically ran that minivan off the road. It was lucky nobody got hurt. Even if you don't know it's stolen, you've got, um, reckless endangering or something."
"In the first place, someone would have to get hurt, or at least file an accident report."
"Okay, get me one, I'll fill it out now."
"I meant somebody *involved*." Noel held up his hand to quell her protest. "Second, that wouldn't be enough for a search warrant, only enough to send someone to the address to ask about the car and its driver. Maybe if we saw the car there -- and of course we won't -- but even then it's unusual. A car like that, that rare, we'd be expected to pull DMV records and interview owners."
"Okay, but I also told you about the chop shop. I saw them taking apart cars. Two nights in a row," she added.
Noel let out an exasperated sigh; he didn't know she'd gone back for another look. "Angela, you can't do that. It's tresspassing."
"Who says I ever touched their property? I just looked in a window. It was in plain sight."
"In plain sight," Noel mumbled, rolling his eyes. "You expect me to tell a judge that an eighteen-year-old girl looked down through a rooftop window without being on the premises. Or that the same eighteen-year-old girl somehow followed a Ferrari at a hundred miles an hour from Quarry Canyon Road all the way up Alvarez to this warehouse."
"I'm not just any eighteen-year-old girl."
"Angela, are you out of your mind?" Noel's voice echoed up and down the stairwell, making him flinch. He lowered his voice, even if there was no one to overhear them. "Maybe you don't remember what a shitstorm you created. Maybe you forgot the way it was all explained away as a hoax. Maybe you forgot that Sapphire is supposed to be *dead*. Maybe you forgot that there are certain incidents that she'd have to answer for if she wasn't. But all that aside, if you think I'm going to go to a judge and tell her that my source is a young woman who *flies* *around* the *city* every night *bare* *ass* *naked*, you are seriously deluded."
"Okay, fine, I see your point. So tell me what to do. Tell me what I need to get for you to be able to do something."
"No, you're missing the point. Law enforcement is a serious business. *Lives* are on the line. We have to protect the public *safety* and respect individuals' *rights*. It is not the way it looks on TV. It's dangerous, it's tedious, it's complicated, and it's frustrating. Things have to be done a certain way, even if it seems like the long way. Even if sometimes it means some of the bad guys get away. You can't just start spying on people and busting heads."
"That's not what I'd do! You make it sound like I'm some kind of thug. Like I'm worse than they are. I can play by the rules. You can teach me. We can do more good if we work together."
"Angela... We are not some kind of crimefighting *team*. Look, I don't know what exactly happened between us, and I certainly can't say I understand what you're going through, but whatever this infatuation you have with me, you need to let it go."
"Infatuation? Oh my God, Mr. Aquino" -- calling him by his first name suddenly seemed distasteful -- "you really need to get over yourself. I do not have a 'thing' for you, and even if I did, that's not what this is about. I'm serious about this. You talk about how overwhelming it is and how you don't have the resources and you have to prioritize. I'm not just some excited little kid. I can *do* things -- things nobody else can do. I can *help*."
"I wouldn't do that. I'll do whatever you say."
"Then put the sapphires away. Go back to school, get a job, find someone special, make a life for yourself." Someone special besides Ricky Aquino.
"But I can't just turn my back. I have to do something."
"You have to want to do it for the right reasons. Revenge is a stupid reason to go into law enforcement. It's not about revenge. It's about upholding the law. --Angela, you have to understand that nothing you can ever do is going to bring your mom back. And nothing is going to make that hurt go away except letting it go. And the *last* thing I need is for some naive girl with a costume and a score to settle with the world running around messing things up."
Her eyes narrowed. "I know what this is about. You're jealous. You're jealous because I can do things you can't. You don't want my help because... I'm a threat."
"Don't be ridiculous. Fighting crime isn't about physical advantage. It's not a one-man job -- or a one-woman job. I have training. I have experience. I have a knowledge of the law and how it can and can't be enforced. I have technology and tools. But I'm part of a team -- a lot of people with a lot of different skills working together in a coordinated effort, 24-7. And we're part of a vast network of law enforcement agencies and information resources, all with common goals. *I* can do things *you* can't. It's not sexy, it's not fun, and it's not perfect, but it does work more often than not. And quite frankly it's insulting for some teenager to stroll in here and think she's going to fix everything by tattling on some guy in a sports car whose ego exceeds his driving ability."
Why was he being like this? "I'm not trying to insult you. I'm just saying I can help."
"No, Angela, you can't."
Angela blinked back a tear. "So all that stuff you said back then, about how the city was lucky to have me, that was just bullshit?" It was a strong word, but her feelings were stronger.
Noel gestured toward the heavens for help. "No, that's not... it wasn't bull." Noel couldn't bring himself to repeat the swear word. "But you have to understand, that was a unique situation, and this business with the car, pretty much everything we do here, it's not... *appropriate* for you to help. Even if you could help, I can't accept it. I could get fired."
"Then it doesn't have to be official." Angela was reaching, trying to find some way she could make this work. "I won't come here anymore. It'll be anonymous. I'll just tell you what I find out, and you just do what you can with it, whatever you're allowed to do. If you don't know where it comes from they can't tell you to stop, they can't hold it against you. I'll get like an anonymous voice mail box or something and you can leave me messages with stuff you want me to check out," she stopped when she saw him frown, "or you don't have to if you don't want to, I can find out stuff on my own. Just don't shut me out. Don't shut me out because I have to do this. I have to do *something*."
"Dammit, Angela, stop it! Just *stop*! I can't let you do this. I don't want to see you get hurt!" His voice rang off the metal stairs and concrete walls.
"I'm not going to get hurt. I'm bulletproof, remember? Anyway, I'm being careful now."
"Careful? You're just one girl. Sure, you have a couple of neat tricks up your sleeve, but you're not Superman, you know. You think nobody's ever going to figure you out? Or maybe stumble on some vulnerability even you don't know about? One day you're going to find yourself in trouble, and you're not going to be able to wiggle out of it, and there won't be anyone there to save you."
Angela huffed. Like father, like son. "Look, Noel, I'm not your daughter. And I'm not anything else, either." What word could she use? Just what did he think she was to him? Girlfriend? Soulmate? She shuddered and shoved it out of her mind. "You don't have to worry about me."
"I'm not worried about you," he said, not entirely convincing. "I'm worried about my son."
The stairwell door opened; one of the detectives -- Angela didn't know his name -- poked his head in. "Um, Noel? Ramirez wants to see you."
"I'll be there in a minute."
Noel looked back to Angela. His face wore disappointment, and regret, and... anger. "I don't know what's been going on between you and Ricky -- and he won't tell me anything -- but I don't like what it's doing to him. I like you, Angela, and I really want to see you turn your life around. But I'm telling you right now, if you *ever* do *anything* to hurt... my son..." Noel trailed off, his voice broken; his eyes blinked back wetness.
So that was it.
Everything else was just a ruse. This wasn't about proper law enforcement or what she could or should do.
It was just a father protecting his son.
One of countless fathers and countless sons, living in a world that too often cared nothing for
A world that could take a son from his father just as easily as it could take a father from his son.
Or a mother from her daughter.
"That's exactly why I can't give up. I've gotta use everything I've been given to do what's right. And I'll do it with or without your help."
With that, Angela pushed past him and hurried down the stairs.
She was halfway down the front steps toward the street when she heard someone calling after her.
"Excuse me, Miss? Miss! I think you dropped something."
Angela turned around. Someone was running toward her. Someone familiar...
The man glanced around when he reached her to see if anyone was close enough to hear, then spoke in a low voice. "Here. It's my card. I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation with Detective Aquino."
For a moment, Angela couldn't breathe. How much had he heard? Did he know who she was? Did he know she was Sapphire? Did he know what she could do? And why did she feel like she should know him? She wished he'd take off his sunglasses...
He saw her apprehension. "Relax. I know what it's like -- wanting to do the right thing, but there's all kinds of rules and regulations and lawyers and bureaucrats in the way. It's a wonder any criminal ever goes to jail. Anyway, I was wrong about you before, and I'm sorry -- I hope there's no hard feelings. I think maybe we can help each other. Give me a call at the number on the back -- it's my private line."
And then he hustled back up the steps toward the station.
She flipped over the business card. When she read the name, she felt the cold grip of irony.
The card read:
Detective Miguel Rubio