While There Is Hope - Ch. 01

It was nearly midnight when I almost ran her over. I was in a twenty-five zone. A fog was also beginning to descend, so I was probably doing twenty or less. Luckily for me, and for her. Nevertheless, I had slammed on the brakes as her tiny figure had teetered unsteadily into the road.

I gripped the steering wheel, heart pounding. Deer running in front of you was common where I lived, women rather less so. She stared into the car through the windshield. Eyes half closed in the dazzle of the headlamps. The same lamps made her stand out super clearly.

A short, dark blue dress belted at the waist and with a buttoned front, the top few of which were open, despite the fall chill. Something was written above one of her breast pockets, but I couldn't see what. More clear to me were her fishnets and black high heels, hence the teetering. Clearest of all, a blue cap with a silver badge atop a mop of wavy, black hair, framing an olive accented, and somewhat startled face.

I seemed incapable of movement for the moment. The girl stumbled towards me, she seemed to limp as she did, and tapped on the window. Regaining mobility, I pushed a button and the glass whirred down. She leaned into the car. I could now make out her tag, it read Molinera.

When she spoke, I could smell wine. Her voice was surprisingly deep for her diminutive size, and a little slurred. "What do you think driving like a madman on the sidewalk? You could have killed me!"

I was lost for words for a few seconds, then blurted out, "this is the road. You are in the actual road. You walked out right in front of me."

She looked confused. "Oh!" She glanced down and around as if trying to verify what I was saying. "Oh! Yeah maybe. But you should still be more careful. You know they put cop killers in the chair?"

I was regaining my composure. "Well a good thing my brakes work then. And you're not a cop are you? Was it a costume party, or do you always dress like this?"

She eased back from the window and stood up, adopting an air of dignity, which is not easy when you are clearly blind drunk. "I am a cop. Officer Molinera. You watch yourself. I don't want to have to cuff you."

She jangled something and I saw she indeed had cuffs on her belt. They seemed to be the only real thing about her outfit. "ASP Ultra Pluses, I'm impressed."

She seemed confused. "What? How do you...?"

I laughed, "well one of us is a cop. And I'm pretty sure that it's not you."

Her eyes grew wider. I couldn't help but smile. I reached for my wallet and held it up to her. She bent down to look at it, holding her face first close to the metal and then my ID card. Her dress billowed and gave me a glimpse of tiny breasts, tipped with bullet nipples; no doubt due to the temperature. She mouthed slowly to herself, "Kow-al-ski."

"Yeah, that's me, but you can call me officer."

She looked confused and then grinned. "OK, officer. Mind how you drive now."

She straightened up. Rather than heading to the nearer sidewalk, she unsteadily made for the far one. I saw oncoming lights and was out of my car in an instant. I feared I would be too slow, but managed to grab her and pull her out of harm's way, as an SUV sped past.

I was worried that my actions might have been misinterpreted, given her inebriated state, but the near miss seemed to have registered, and even sobered her up a little. Her voice was still slurred though, "thank you Officer Kowalski. I guess maybe I shouldn't have had that last glass."

She smiled rather fuzzily at me, and I couldn't help but reflect her mood. "Yeah, maybe those last four glasses."

She nodded sheepishly. "Sure. Can you get me an Uber? I tried, but the screen is out of focus for some reason, and my fingers don't seem to work." The embarrassed smile was back.

So I did what any reasonable guy would do. I offered to take her home. I was expecting reluctance. But she nodded and climbed straight in when I opened the passenger door. I walked round to my side, got in, and turned to ask her for the address.

She was comatose.

I was actually scared and checked her neck for a pulse. So now what to do? I had an unconscious female in my car. I wasn't going to push her out and drive off. But I was also acutely aware that the situation could be seen as compromising. Not good news in my profession.

I could call it in. Maybe some on duty guys could take her. But that would probably mean a night in the drunk tank. No, I needed to try to take her home. But I also needed to do something to cover my ass. An idea struck me. I got out my phone and found the person I was looking for. She answered after only a few rings.

"Hey, Mancini... Sorry to disturb you partner, I know it's late. I've just got a situation. Drunk woman nearly killed herself twice in the traffic... She's passed out in my car."

Mancini was her typical, unflappable self. Just what I needed in this rather fraught situation. She offered to help.

"No, Maria. No I don't need you to come find me. I just wanted to tell someone... You know how it is. I'm going to try to get her home... Yeah, that's right. But can I maybe text you a photo, so it's clear what the situation is? Nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand we don't need to use it."

Of course she said yes.

"You're cool? Thanks buddy... You're the best... See you tomorrow... 11am, right?"

Mancini really was the best. She'd saved me from, at the very least, severe injury, probably much worse. She'd put the shooter in the hospital, when it could have been me. I took a photo of the girl, rather whimsically ensuring her name tag was in focus. I added some explanatory text, and sent it to my partner. I got a thumbs up acknowledging receipt.

Now to get the snoring Miss Molinera home. I leaned across and opened her purse. It was slung round her neck on a fine chain, else she'd probably have lost it a while back. I found a phone with a crystal clear display. Smiling, I explored further and pulled out what I assumed was a wallet.

Flipping it open I saw a brass circled star and a card with the heading "United States Marshall Service." Beneath this was printed, "Esperanza Molinera" and then "Supervisory Deputy Marshall."

I sat back in my seat, thinking. Maybe I should call Mancini again, or the station.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. The roof light of the car was dim, but the image was still clear. Around the wrist nearest to me the woman had ugly red welts, and blood stains. I turned on my phone light and leaned across again, checking her other arm. It was the same story. My working hypothesis was that she had recently worn the Ultra Pluses, and that she had tried really hard to get them off.

Turning off the light, I closed my eyes and banged the back of my head against the driver's seat. "Fuck! Why me?"

So, maybe I could stick to my plan. Figure out where she lived and drop her off. Stay out of whatever the, clearly fucked up, situation was. But I knew that wouldn't work. Absent some weird sex thing, and she didn't look the type, Deputy Molinera had clearly been held captive, maybe for some time. And I began to doubt whether her drunken stupor was self-inflicted, or even primarily due to alcohol. And I had told Mancini, and her photo was on my phone. I was already involved.

Much as I wanted to avoid complications, I also had a fellow law enforcement officer in the car with me, and she was obviously in trouble. What would I want her to do if the tables were turned? Shit, you know the answer, Bill! Again I felt the need to keep things above board. And -- though I'd never admit it -- I was scared. I needed backup.

I pressed redial on my phone. When she picked up, my tone was no longer casual camaraderie. "Hey, Maria... Yeah, me again... I have a problem... Yeah, with her. She's a US fucking Marshall, and I think she's been kidnapped... I know... No, no idea... You said you'd come out... Yeah, that would be cool... My place... Yeah, it's important... Say sorry to Mike for me... And kiss the kids... Thanks, bye."

I turned the engine on, pulled the shifter into gear, and headed home.

I opened the garage door, thankful that I had cleared enough space for the car a few weeks back. No way did I want the neighbors seeing me carry an unconscious woman into my house. I'd have some colleagues wanting to speak to me pretty soon after.

I was also thankful that Deputy Molinera was petite. I wasn't in the full flush of youth anymore, and my back appreciated her lightness. Clumsily I knocked her head against the frame of the internal door, but she didn't wake. I wondered what it was that she had been given. As I cradled her, the top of her dress opened and I tried hard not to look at the single breast this revealed. The fact that she was so my type made it harder -- literally. Enough of such thoughts, be a fucking professional!

My back ruled out taking her upstairs to sleep it off. So I put her on the couch as gently as I could and adjusted her attire to preserve her modesty. Her shoes had fallen off in the car, or in between it and here. I'd find them later. I debated whether or not to remove her fishnets. Discretion won that battle. No sooner had I decided, than the bell rang. I let Mancini in, thanking her for coming.

"So, where is she, Bill?" I pointed to the living room.

Maria looked her up and down. "You sure it wasn't a date, Bill?" There was skepticism in her voice, she knew my taste in women pretty well.

"And these?" She held up one of Molinera's limp arms, displaying her traumatized wrist. "I didn't know you were kinky."

Ignoring the kinky comment, I went for a casual response. "Well, she is cute. I might have liked to have been on a date with her."

Mancini raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more, so I continued. "But no. It was just as I said, she stepped out into the road. It's recorded on the dashcam, if you don't believe me."

"I believe you, Bill, I don't need to see the footage."

"Thanks. I guess it was good I was going slow."

"No shit! Where's her badge?"

I fumbled in her purse and handed the item to Maria.

She examined it and looked quizzical. "It's not a fake. But it doesn't make a lot of sense. So you say she passed out drunk?"

"Well, I thought so. And her breath smells of wine." Mancini leaned down, sniffed, and nodded. She waited for me to get to the point. "Well, then I thought again. Seems more like she's been roofied, or something. Probably that and alcohol."

"But why, Bill? What the fuck is a US Marshall doing dressed as a sexy cop and trying to get herself killed?"

I paused, it wasn't as if I was totally clear about this myself, but I had an idea. "Well, what if she wasn't trying to get herself killed? What if someone else was doing that? Maybe she was held captive, that would explain the cuff abrasions, and then they decided to get rid of her."

Mancini's face exhibited disbelief. "A bit far-fetched, Bill. There are easier ways. And what about the costume? And why does it have her real name on it?"

I shrugged. "Dunno, as you say, it makes no sense."

"OK, Bill. Let's not worry about that. But I think we need to worry about something else. If she has been drugged, we have no idea with what. You want a dead Deputy on your couch?"

"Fuck, I didn't think!"

"That's why they gave you a partner with brains, Billie-boy." Maria loved to yank my chain, no matter the circumstances. "She seems to be breathing fine. I think the ER might bring some unwelcome questions. I could call Frank..."

Francesco was Maria's cousin, he was an attending at the University Hospital, and a good guy. "Good idea, but it's late."

"Should be fine, I think he's about to finish a shift." She got out her phone and messaged her relative. A reply came back within thirty seconds. "It's OK, he'll be here soon. Why don't we try to work out what the fuck is going on? How about we look this woman up?"

Again, Maria was the brains. "Sure, I'll get my laptop from the car."

As I went to retrieve the computer, I reflected, not for the first time, how lucky I was to be paired with my partner. I was also deeply grateful that she was married. In other circumstances... well she was an attractive woman, and mixing work and pleasure was normally a very bad idea.

It was easy enough to find the Deputy, typing in Esperanza Molinera, brought her up immediately. She looked rather more professional in her dark suit and white shirt. But -- to my eyes at least -- no less attractive. Focus, Bill. Focus.

I read aloud for Mancini's benefit. "Thirty-one. Uses the name Hope. Promoted to supervisor two years back. Blameless record. Received the Attorney General's Award for Exceptional Heroism. Fuck, she's a big damn hero!"

"What did she do, Bill?"

I scrolled down. "Was shot twice defending someone in the Witness Security Program, a woman. Despite her injuries, went on to neutralize both assailants... with no harm suffered by her charge... beyond cuts and bruises."

I gazed at the comatose Deputy with renewed respect. For the first time, I also noticed a scar on her right temple. It looked like a bullet had taken a chunk of her flesh out. Looking back at the electronic file, she had indeed received a minor head wound and a more traumatic bullet in her left thigh.

Maria had now sat down next to me, and was also scanning the screen. "So she took out two bad guys, while her femur was shattered. Sounds like they were professionals too. Good for Hope."

"Yeah, looks like she was pretty messed up though. They had to rebuild her leg, and she's only recently returned to fieldwork." With a pang of guilt, I realized her limping had probably been due to more than just intoxication and high heels.

The bell rang again, it was Frank. He and Maria touched cheeks and the doctor shook my hand. We'd met at a BBQ before. "Hi, Bill, where's the patient?"

I took him to Molinera. He examined her. She didn't stir once during the process. He seemed thorough, peeling back her eyelids and shining a light into them, listening to her heart. Satisfied at last, he spoke. "Alcohol, of course. That much is obvious. But most likely a sedative as well. It's impossible to tell without bloodwork, but I'd guess some sort of benzodiazepine. The good news is I don't think she needs hospital. Just to rest. And lots of fluids when she wakes up. She'll probably have the mother of all hangovers."

He moved on to her arms, lifting each to look at the lesions closely. Doing so much more carefully than Maria had. "Yes, I think from the cuffs, and most likely self-inflicted. Based on this, and the potential drugging, I'd be concerned about her being mentally traumatized. God knows what else may have happened to her. She'll need taking care of."

I said I understood. I'd had training in this area. I said I would be fine.

Frank continued. "Speaking of what might have happened to her, Bill, can you step into the other room for a moment, please? Maria, I need you to stay."

Getting his meaning, I took myself to the kitchen. I needed a glass of water anyway. Fifteen minutes later, Maria came to get me. Frank was packing away his things. "So, I've taken a swab, and some blood. I can get them processed as Jane Doe. We'll have to wait for the results, but I see no obvious signs of any assault in the last twenty-four hours. However..." He paused and seemed troubled. "There are things that could indicate past sexual trauma, maybe multiple. I don't think the tests will tell us much about that. You'll need to talk to her."

The look of disgust on Maria's face reflected my own revulsion. We both thanked her cousin and, before he left, Frank said to call, regardless of the hour, if there was any change.

I saw him out and went back to Maria. She seemed lost in thought, head bowed. "You OK, partner?"

She raised her head, moisture glistening in the corners of her eyes. "Yeah. Just hard to tell what sucks more, being a cop or being a woman."

I put a hand on Maria's shoulder and she smiled weakly at me before speaking. "Let's get back to her file, shall we?" I nodded and joined her.

Settling back in front of my laptop, we tried to learn more about our friend, but other details were few. There were hints that she had been involved in some sensitive stuff. Stuff that wouldn't be recorded on the main system, but it would be total speculation to think about what exactly. Eventually we gave up.

Maria yawned and stretched. It was now almost 2am. "Listen, Bill. I think you've got this. And we have Frank as a second witness, if it comes to that. I've gotta get going. I'm on the school run. And -- if you want some advice -- take a personal day tomorrow. I can get Raoul to cover. You don't want her waking up with no one around."

I agreed this made sense. I gave Maria a warm, but platonic, hug and let her get back to her family. I sent a mail to work about tomorrow, copying Mancini. Then I found a blanket and draped it over Molinera. Grabbing a second, I settled into an adjacent easy chair. I wondered what on Earth her story was, but answers would have to wait until the morning. Until she woke.

To be continued...