The Watchman by Robert Crais Page B

don’t want to escalate the situation. We want to cool it. Understand?”
    Pike nodded again.
    Flynn rapped at the door three times and announced them.
    “Police officer.”
    He rapped again.
    “Please open the door.”
    The crying stopped and Pike heard movement. Then a young woman spoke from the other side of the door.
    “I’m okay. I don’t need anything.”
    Flynn rapped again.
    “Open the door, miss. We can’t leave until we see you.”
    Flynn raised his hand to knock as the door opened, and Candace Stanik peered through a thin crack. Even with the narrow view, Pike saw that her nose was broken and her right eye was purple with the mottled skin tight over a swelling lump. The eye would be closed in another few minutes. Pike had had plenty of eyes like that. Mostly as a kid. Mostly from his father.
    Flynn placed his hand on the door.
    “Step away, hon. Let me open the door and take a look.”
    “He’s gone. He went to his girlfriend.”
    Flynn’s voice was gentle but firm. Pike admired the way Flynn could direct so much emotion by his voice.
    “Miss Stanik? That your name, Candace Stanik?”
    Her voice was soft, but thin and strained. Pike wasn’t listening to her; he listened past her, searching for other occupants. A crisp medicinal smell of ether came from her apartment, telling him that someone had been freebasing.
    “Yes. He went—”
    “Let us in now, hon. We can’t leave until we come in, so just let us in.”
    Flynn pushed gently on the door until she backed away. Pike shadowed inside, then quickly stepped to the side so they weren’t bunched together. Together, they would make a single large target; apart, two targets more difficult to kill. Pike kept his back to the wall.
    Stepping into the apartment was like entering a furnace. Pike began sweating. They were in a cramped living room. As Flynn approached the girl, Pike noted an entry closet to the left and, across the living room, a tiny kitchen and dining area. A short hall branched off the dining area. The apartment appeared neat and squared away except the coffee table was turned on its side and the floor was spattered with blood. Candace Stanik was pregnant. Pike guessed seven or eight months, though he knew little about women or pregnancy. Her T-shirt was streaked with blood over the mound of her belly, and more blood spattered her legs and bare feet. Pike noted a thin kitchen towel bundled with ice that she had probably been using on her eye. Her lips were split in two places and her nose was broken, and she held her belly as if she was cramping.
    Flynn spoke softly over his shoulder to Pike.
    “Paramedics and additional units.”
    Pike keyed his rover, sending a request for paramedics and additional units to the dispatcher. Pike saw Flynn reach to touch the girl and the girl jerk her arm away as her voice rose—
    “I want you to get him! You have to go get him. He went to his fucking slut girlfriend—”
    The girl was growing more agitated and Flynn was working to calm her, lowering his voice, sharing his calm.
    “Let’s take care of that baby first, all right, hon? Nothing’s more important than your baby.”
    Flynn had her arm again, and this time she let him, but her face contorted.
    “He’s going to get away—”
    “Shh. He won’t get away.”
    Flynn was everything he had to be—a strong, comforting father figure. You would be safe if you trusted him. He would take care of you if you let him. Flynn slipped his arm around her shoulders, an arm that would protect her and make all the pain go away, murmuring—
    “You have to sit down first, hon. Let’s get some ice on that nose. I’m going to take care of you.”
    Flynn motioned at Pike. They had been inside less than one minute.
    “I’m okay here. You good with getting the back?”
    Pike nodded.
    “Be careful.”
    Pike moved past with no great feeling of apprehension. He glanced in the kitchen, then stepped into the hall. The bathroom door was open, showing a sink