This is a repost of another of my stories. I've been so busy working on edits and rewrites I haven't had a chance to get much original work done. So, I figured I'll repost this so you guys don't forget who I am. Thanks muchly,
Danielle
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She sighed deeply and leaned against the light pole, lifting her foot to relieve the ache that four inch spike heels put on her arch and toes. Something caught her eye and she glanced up to catch just the tail end of a flash of lightening between the tall buildings. Thunder rolled ominously across the sky a few seconds later.
"Great, just fucking great," she grouched.
There was a burst of static in her ear. "You know, leather shrinks when it gets wet." Her partner, cozy, comfortable and cool in the surveillance van, laughed over the electronic piece in her ear.
She stood, balancing unsteadily, yanking down on the short, leather skirt that barely covered what was legal and left a long expanse of tanned stomach bare. "Next time, you get to wear these heels and come out here and shake your ass, Justin," she hissed, knowing that her words would be picked up by the tiny receiver hidden in the pitiful excuse for a vest she wore over her breasts.
Detective Justin Swope, her partner for the four years she had worked homicide, laughed again. "But you do it so well, Jenna."
She turned and surreptitiously flipped off the surveillance van, hearing the chuckles of the morons inside.
"Hey, we could have gotten a uniform to do it. You volunteered."
Jenna ignored the truth of his words and walked the sidewalk, trying to pretend that her feet weren't killing her and her head wasn't buzzing from exhaustion. She had to close this case or it was going to kill her.
She caught the evil glares of the others that were walking this stretch of sidewalk. The people, both male and female, that were out here trying to turn a trick, to earn rent or money for food, or for that next fix. She tried to ignore the kids that were out here also, selling their bodies because it was better than the alternative of what they had at home. A life that they considered much worse than life on the streets. And no matter how the city tried, there just wasn't enough money, enough time or enough man power to completely fix a situation so overwhelming.
It was enough to break hearts, seeing how skinny they were, or the dazed drugged look in their eyes.
Jenna heard the loud blast of a defective muffler before she saw the car. Loud, raucous music blared out the open windows. The bass was up so loud that it vibrated against the earpiece. She heard the whine of feedback and swore loudly.
One of the three boys in the car had his head out the window. "Hey babe," he yelled as they passed Jenna. "How about a freebie? It's my birthday."
"I don't do ten year olds," she yelled back. "Go home to your momma."
"Bitch!" he yelled back at her as they roared off.
"Why wasn't that kid in bed?" she muttered, mostly to herself.
"I think that was the point," Justin chuckled.
Jenna ignored him and glanced down the street. Her eyes caught and then focused on an aging hooker bent over talking to an ancient man in a BMW. She was old enough to be grandmother to Jesus, with skin like a prune and about the same color. She had on a skirt in bright red that made Jenna's look positively prim in comparison. A fake gold lame halter barely contained breasts that hung to her waist and swung with every movement. She had a full head of impossibly curly, impossibly red hair that hung almost to her waist. She laughed, a cackle that reminded Jenna of the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.
Jenna turned her purse so that the tiny camera concealed in it's straps caught the old woman's image.
"Justin, I thought you told your girlfriend to stay off the streets." She heard the hoots of laughter from the two other cops in the surveillance van down the street over her earpiece.
"Hey," Justin replied without hesitation. "Take out her teeth and she gives the best head around."
"Pervert."
"Yep, and proud of it."
Jenna turned to walk back to her light pole when she felt the first drop of rain splash on her bare shoulder. The sky flashed and rumbled.
"We should pack this up Jenna," Justin told her. "Come on, I'll buy you a beer and rub your feet for you."
She considered it and was starting to walk down the street to the motel where they had set up part of this sting when a long, black sedan pulled up next to the curb. It kept pace with her for a minute until she looked over. Adrenaline pumped through her system, fast and furious as she recognized the make and model as being the same as what their one and only witness had given them.
The owner of the black sedan was wanted in connection to several murders that had been plaguing the less affluent neighborhoods. Seven girls, all street hookers, had been picked up off the streets. The last girl's body had been found just last week. The damage done to her had been severe. She had literally been torn to pieces. Cause of death, as far as the medical examiner had been able to deduce, had been blunt force trauma. Her skull had been caved in with something like a steel bat.
Prior to death, though, she had been raped, assaulted and tortured.
But they had caught a break. Her friend and roommate had been with her when she had been picked up and had identified the car.
This car.
The passenger window slowly rolled down as Jenna turned to the car. There was a burst of static in her ear.
"It looks like the right car. Same procedure, Jen. Get him to go to the motel room. We'll take him there."
Jenna smiled and snapped her gum as she strolled over to the window. She bent at the waist to look in, giving the driver a long view of very nice cleavage.