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I STUDIED THEinformation Walter Jackson had come up with on both victims. It was during times like this, slouched at my desk, that I appreciated the padded chair I’d bought for myself. The city didn’t care if hours at my desk hurt my back.
As usual, Walter Jackson’s packet on my homicide victim was outstanding. The right criminal intelligence analyst makes any case easier. Walter always sticks in little bits of informationother analysts might ignore, putting in data on siblings and old addresses, giving investigators more options to pursue when starting out on a case.
Sometimes, as a homicide detective, you’ve got to re-create the victim’s world in your head. You’ve got to be able to live their life and see the world through their eyes, at least briefly.
I was deep into Emma’s and Estella’s worlds and was startled when my phone rang. The kids had installed a new ringtone, the start of the piano solo from Eric Clapton’s original “Layla.” As soon as I heard it, I remembered that my wife, Mary Catherine, was going to call me after her doctor’s appointment.
The first words out of my mouth were “How’d it go?”
Instead of a concise answer, I heard a series of shrieks and laughing in the background.
Using my razor-sharp detective skills, I made an assessment and said, “You have the kids with you?”
“Only sixty percent of them. We’re on our way to buy some school clothes.”
“I thought you were going to call as soon as you were done at the doctor’s office.”
“Things got crazy and I was running late.”
I heard my youngest child, Chrissy, whine that she wanted to talk to me. That started her sisters Fiona and Shawna doing the same thing. I could barely hear Mary Catherine as she tried to explain things in code.
“Michael, I know I said I wanted to go to this first appointment on my own, but there was a lot to absorb. It was almost like the…” She searched for another word. “The cashier was trying to talk me out of any purchase.”
I was careful with my reply. I said, “To be clear, thedoctortried to talk you out offertility treatment.”
“I have no idea why crime is rising with brilliant detectives like you running around.”
I snorted a laugh. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to influence her one way or the other about her efforts to get pregnant. Finally, I came up with “How doyoufeel about it?”
“I really don’t know. I think I’d like you…to come next time.”
I knew her pause was a last-second change fromI’d like you at the next doctor’s appointment.
All I said was “Anything you want.”
“I think about how great our life is now in a home filled with children.” Mary Catherine paused to yell at the kids. “Everyone quiet for two minutes!”
I heard Trent sneak in an “Or what?”
The silence over the phone was terrifying. I knew those kids were facing the toughest of Irish glares. I felt sorry for them.
She came back on the line and her voice betrayed no hint of anger. Mary Catherine said, “I look at it two different ways. I think how happy another”—there was a pause—“visitorwould be in our house. I also think we have the perfect balance now.”
“No matter what, we can’t lose. We have a great life, and a baby would make it better.”
Mary Catherine said, “I thought irrepressible optimism was supposed to be my thing.”
We both laughed as she broke the tension. We chatted for a few moments about the rest of our day. Then I built up the nerve to tell her, “Listen, I caught a homicide earlier today. I’ll probably be home late.” A homicide detective’s spouse hears this phrase dozens of times a year. But it felt harder to say, knowing she was having a rough day.
There was silence for a few moments on the other end of the line. Then Mary Catherine haltingly asked, “I know you’ve been looking for Juliana’s missing friend, Suzanne…”
“No, it wasn’t Suzanne. Suzanne’s father left another message for me this morning. I’ve been over to Missing Persons at One Police Plaza several times, hoping to find out something. So far there’s nothing on her. But Suzanne wasn’t the girl we fished out of the Hudson.”
“Oh, my Lord. Someone dumped a body in the river? That’s horrible.”
I try not to bring home the terrible things I see on my job. I guess I have achieved my goal because Mary Catherine was still reeling from the few details I had told her. I never want my family to become numb to the horrors that happen. Just like I don’t want to lose sight of what each homicide means, especially when the victim is young. Somewhere a family had lost a child. Every homicide victim means potential that won’t be reached. I know in my heart someone feels the loss every time a person is murdered.
Mary Catherine said, “Don’t worry about a thing, Michael. I have a plan for the afternoon that includes helping the twins with a project, then showing Ricky how I make my Irish stew.”
