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Terri Hernandez leaned in close to me. She said in a low voice, “This is really similar to a body we found in the Bronx about two months ago. Both pretty, both in formal wear, and both discarded like an old fast-food container.” She stepped past me and pointed at the body on the deck. “Looks like a puncture wound in the chest. It’s small but noticeable.” Terri turned and added, “See the red soles on those heels? This girl has really expensive taste. Those are Christian Louboutin stilettos, and the dress looks like a Gucci.”
I just nodded. I always need a few minutes after recovering a body. I tried to picture the circumstances that led to the victim’s death. There was something about being dumped in the water that felt extra evil. It’s one of my nightmares. I said a quick, silent prayer for this poor woman.
At the moment, the only thing I could think of was catching whoever killed her.
The crime-scene techs took photo after photo from every angle.
The male crime-scene tech looked up from the body and said, “No ID of any kind. I’d put her age between nineteen and twenty-two. We’ll try to get her fingerprints back at the lab. We’ll see if she ever applied for a government job or has ever been arrested, but we might have a hard time figuring out who she is.”
I shook my head. “Somebody’s missing her. She’ll match a missing person’s report. We’ll know in a day or two who she is.” The thought of this girl dying alone caused a wave of sadness to pass over me.
I’d promised myself that if these kinds of feelingsdidn’tcome to me whenever I saw a body, I’d know it was time to retire.
Chapter3
BY NOON, Iwas headed back to my office. Every time I walk through the doors of the Manhattan North Homicide unit, in an unmarked building on Broadway near 133rd Street, I am thrilled not to work anywhere near One Police Plaza.
I was hoping there would be more information waiting for me at my desk. I also intended to track down our criminal intelligence analyst to help me sift through the data from my newest death investigation.
I headed to the seventh floor, where my squad took the center of the space, with half a dozen small offices and interview rooms ringing it.
I slid behind my desk and took a moment to make a few entries in my notebook and just think about what to do next. Even though we’ve moved on from physical case files to an electronic system called ECMS, Enterprise Case Management System, I still trust my own handwritten notes.
Then I hustled to my boss’s office. Harry Grissom’s tall and lean frame fit well behind a desk, and I knew that sitting eased the discomfort he always felt. Harry favored his left side when he walked, the result of a knife wound that had severed his femoral artery when he was a young patrolman. He never complained, but it was clear from his gait that it was painful for him to walk too long.
I realized Harry was starting to show his age lately. The creases around his eyes were now cracks. The mustache that drooped below his mouth, contrary to NYPD grooming policies, was now almost completely gray. Recently, I’d heard whispers that the big shots at One Police Plaza wanted Harry to retire. I hoped it wasn’t true. Work was all Harry knew. I worried that without the NYPD, Harry, with three ex-wives and no kids, might become one of the many suicides in the police ranks. It’s an issue no one inside or outside police agencies wants to talk about. The pressure of the job can be intense. But the pressure oflosingthe job can be overwhelming.
Harry gave me a little wave and his version of a smile. “What do you got?”
I filled him in on the recovery from this morning, and told him about Terri Hernandez’s mention of a similar victim. “I’d like to work with Terri on this and look at both homicides together. Just in case we’re dealing with another serial killer, I don’t want anything to put us behind the eight ball. For a change, I wouldn’t mind being a step ahead of an asshole like this.”
Harry gave me a nod. That meant to move full speed ahead. Other lieutenants might ask for memos or extra admin, but Harry’s nod carried a lot of information. It told me to catch this killer any way I could. I almost ran from his office before things could be slowed down.
I looked toward the criminal intelligence analysts’room as I left Harry’s office and felt my first relief of the day. Sitting by himself in the corner of his office was Walter Jackson, arguably the best analyst in the NYPD.
Without a doubt, Walter was thebiggestanalyst with the NYPD.
He stood six foot six and was every bit of three hundred pounds—the wordimposingdidn’t completely capture the thirty-five-year-old African American. The big man’s smile tended to lift everyone’s spirits. Walter had always been interested in helping his community, but he didn’t like some of the risks associated with being a police officer. He found he had a knack for piecing together information and solving puzzles when he studied English literature at Virginia, so when he saw a job announcement for criminal intelligence analyst, he thought he’d give it a try. Now he was a legend in the department.
I popped my head in the room. “Hey, Walter, I just caught a homicide and I’ve got a lot of information to put together. Any chance you’re free?”
“I got plenty to do, but it’s tough to turn down a new homicide. What do you need?” he asked.
I stared at him. He didn’t say anything.
He returned my stare as he slowly smiled. “What is it?”
“That’s one of the first times you’ve ever answered a question without a pun.”
The big man laughed, his belly jiggling. “I bet my daughter, Janine, I could go a week without making a pun. I have to give her a dollar every time I slip up. Whether she hears it or not.”
“What made her want to bet?”
“I asked her, when does a joke become adadjoke?” He paused, then added, “When the punch line becomes apparent.”
I guess most dads share a little bit of the same sense of humor, but I couldn’t help but groan at that one. I didn’t tell him I’d use that pun almost as soon as I got home.
I gave Walter the recovery information I had and what I had learned from Terri Hernandez about her homicide in the Bronx. Walter didn’t have to be told what needed to be done. He’d call the medical examiner’s office to get the latest information, track down all the outside sources, like news stories, on the other homicide. Then he’d give it to me in a concise manner.
