by James Hunt
“He has an affiliation with one of the drug dealers we arrested this morning. And those drug dealers were tied to a house that had a connection to our killer.” Cooper crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d say that warrants harassing.”
“You’re out of line, Detective!” Farnes stomped forward and he looked her up and down. “People die because of you, Detective. How much more blood do you want on your hands?”
Cooper leaned forward, her eyes locked on Farnes. She kept her voice low and the threat sharp. “As much as it takes.” She slammed her shoulder into the fat of his arm on her way out the door, and slammed it shut behind her.
The normal precinct foot traffic combined with the added bodies of the feds had turned the hallways into a constant congestion of rush hour traffic. Cooper collided with a few of them, her mind lost in its own thoughts. Why would he care about Marks? It wasn’t the first time Farnes had steered her away from traveling down that particular road. But how Marks connected to the killer she still didn’t know.
“Hey, Cooper.” Hart weaved his way through the crowd, squeezing past two federal agents. “Hey, um, your sister’s family is here.”
“Shit.” Cooper rubbed her temples. “I forgot they were flying in today.”
“Hemsworth is speaking to them now, they’re up front.”
Cooper pushed past Hart and steamrolled her way through the halls. It’d been a year since she’d seen her nieces, but not enough time had passed for her to deal with Tim. She spotted Hemsworth through a cluster of officers, speaking to Tim whose face was blocked from view. The youngest, Mary, was clutched to her father’s leg. She looked left and saw Sarah by the wall, earbuds in with her head down, holding her phone.
The officer blocking Tim’s face finally moved, and he noticed Cooper’s presence. Color drained from his cheeks when she approached. “Hello, Adila.” His voice was grave, and he stood with his hands in his pockets. His face was covered in stubble, and he had dressed comfortably for the long flight over.
Mary sprinted from her father’s leg and threw her little arms around Cooper’s waist, burying her face into Cooper’s stomach. Cooper kissed the top of her niece’s head and ran her fingers through Mary’s wavy locks. “It’s okay.” The young girl’s response was only a tighter squeeze, and Cooper knelt down and scooped her up in her arms.
“I was just telling your brother-in-law some of what we know,” Hemsworth said. “I’ll let the two of you talk. Tim, we’ll get together later about where you’ll be staying.”
“Right. Thank you.” Tim rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat, but couldn’t find the words to speak once they were alone. He kept his arms and legs tucked tight against his body as the busy flow of officers and agents swarmed the precinct. “Is there any place quiet we can go? I feel like I’m crammed back in that plane.”
Cooper set Mary down, and the girl returned to her father. “Yeah. Sure.”
Tim grabbed Sarah’s attention and Cooper led them to the interrogation rooms. They ran into Hart along the way, and Cooper pawned the kids off on him. What she was going to tell Tim wasn’t something she wanted the girls to hear.
Once inside the room, with the girls gone and the pleasantries done, the two wallowed in awkward silence. Finally, Cooper spoke. “The girls are getting big. Sarah has to be, what? Ten?”
“She’s twelve,” Tim answered, the tone in his voice still lacking any tenderness. “Cooper, what’s going on?”
“Why don’t you have a seat.” Cooper gestured to the chair, but Tim refused the offer. He remained in the corner of the room, his arms crossed like toddler. “Look, Tim—”
“I need to know if she’s still alive.” His voice trembled, and the stoic demeanor he held earlier disappeared. “We can sugarcoat it for the girls, but I need to know the truth.” He took a hard swallow, and for the first time since his arrival, he finally looked her in the eye and held his gaze.
“I think there’s still a good chance that she’s alive.” The moment the words left her mouth he broke down, collapsing into the chair and burying his face into his forearm, his shoulders trembling. Cooper folded her hands together on the table and waited until it was out of his system before she started again. “Whoever this guy is, he takes his time. The previous victim was with him for at least a week. I don’t know if he’ll keep the same timeline, or try something different, but statistically these people usually stick to what they know.”
Tim sniffled, wiping his nose. He cleared his throat a few times, his lips moving but the words hesitant to leave. “Is, um… Does he do anything? To the women he takes?”
“No,” Cooper answered, reading between the lines. “We don’t think he rapes them. But he is violent. Both victims had bruising and lacerations before they were killed.”
“How many times has he done this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jesus Christ.” Tim pushed himself up from the chair, pacing the room in a ghost-like daze. “I knew she shouldn’t have come here. I knew it was a fucking mistake. She just wouldn’t listen. She never listens.” His voice grew louder, and his pacing quickened.
“I know this is a lot to take in.”
Tim smacked the back of the chair, and it hit the floor, the crash of steel and concrete ringing through the confined space. He thrust his finger at her, screaming. “You’re the fucking reason she came here. It was because of all that shit with your dad. Do you know how much time she spent on that after your mother died? She was obsessed. But then again you might have known if you just would have called.”
“I didn’t know how hard she was taking everything.” They’d both handled their mother’s death in different ways. Cooper buried herself in her work, and Beth buried herself in finding their biological father, an endeavor Cooper had given up on long ago.
“I told her you wouldn’t fucking care. I told her not to come. But she just wouldn’t listen.” Tim paced the small space, his cheeks reddening. “All you had to do was stay in touch with her. If you hadn’t been such a bitch after your mom died, then this wouldn’t have happened!” He kicked the chair, and it skidded across the floor.
Cooper leapt from her seat and had to make a conscious effort not to reach for her service pistol. “Do not put this on me, Tim! You have no fucking right. It’s not my fault.”
Tim inched closer, his face still red but his voice softer. “Then whose is it?”
Both of them stood nose to nose, the anger between them reaching a crescendo. Cooper thrust her finger in his face. “Don’t think I forgot about what you did to her, you fucking asshole. The only reason I didn’t put you behind bars was because I didn’t have the proof. But you knew what happened.” She felt spit dribble down her chin as she looked him up and down with contempt.
Tim turned away, balling his hands into fists. “It was an accident. Beth knew it, and so did I.”
“Make a lot of mistakes when you’re drunk, Tim? Funny how quickly you swept it under the rug when her bruises disappeared. Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit.”
Tim whirled on her, his face beet red, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Fuck you, Adila! Fuck you!” He viciously kicked the chair again, and the steel scraped across the concrete. He slammed both hands against the wall, keeping his palms flush against the concrete. “It was a mistake I made a long time ago. She forgave me for what I did.” He turned around, his face still red but the anger in his voice gone. “You should too.”
Cooper closed the distance between them, her fists clenched close to her sides. “Never.” Resisting the urge to pull her Glock out of its holster, Cooper slammed the door shut on her way out. She lingered in the anteroom, watching Tim through the one-way glass. She flattened her back against the wall and closed her eyes.
Underneath all of the rage and frustration and opened wounds that was her family history, the truth was Cooper knew Tim was right, and that reality stung worse than any of the threats and taunts from the public, from her peers, or from him
. She should have called. She should have visited. But should haves couldn’t help her now. And deepening the divide between Tim and herself wouldn’t help the girls. Right now he was the sole custodian of her nieces, and that meant he could do whatever he wanted to keep her out of their lives. She didn’t think he’d be that vindictive, but then again he beat her sister fifteen years ago in a drunken rage, so she wasn’t going to take that chance.
Cooper stepped back into the room. Tim had picked up the chair and sat down, drumming his fingers on the desk lazily. With both tempers calmer, Cooper used the opportunity to extend an olive branch. “Where are you guys staying?”
Tim kept his arms crossed and remained in the corner. “I booked a room at the Radisson downtown. Though when I was talking to that agent he said they might move us. Something about witness protection. I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to stay. I have work, and the girls need to go back to school at some point.”
Cooper reached into her pocket and pulled out a card, extending it to Tim, which he took hesitantly. “That’s the police department’s resource office. They take care of helping with expenses for people in similar situations to this. Give them a call and tell them who you are and your relationship with me. I don’t know how much they’ll be able to help, but it’ll be something.”
“Thanks.” Tim pocketed the card, and the two sat in silence until Hart returned with the girls. Both were in higher spirits than before they left, and even Sarah managed to unplug from her device. “Did you have fun with Hart?”
Mary nodded. “He let me play with the siren.” She giggled mischievously, and Sarah rolled her eyes.
Without much patience left for one another, Tim gathered up the girls, and Hemsworth escorted them out the back, shielding them from the growing number of news vans and cameras that had bloomed in front of the precinct. Once Tim and the girls were seated and buckled, Hemsworth pulled Cooper aside. “I’ll have a team of agents on them the entire time. They’ll be safe. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Hemsworth stopped at the car. “After we drop them off we’re heading to your apartment with the forensics team. We’ll meet you over there.” The caravan of black sedans flashed their lights and dispersed into downtown.
Hart waited with Cooper outside until she couldn’t see the sedans any longer. He nudged her elbow. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“It’s just family shit.” Cooper exhaled, hoping that whatever sins she committed in the past wouldn’t affect her sister’s future.
Chapter 6
Cooper leaned up against the living room wall in her apartment and watched the team of FBI agents turn the place upside down. Hemsworth directed his people as they turned over every last fiber and transformed her apartment into a crime scene the Baltimore PD would have reserved for a triple homicide. Forensics techs snapped pictures of the writing the killer had etched on her wall, along with the hole she punched in it earlier that morning.
Every foreign hand and finger that combed through Cooper’s property sent an uncomfortable shiver through her body. It was an invasion of privacy that didn’t sit well, and as she watched one of the forensics snap a picture of the binder that she kept of her father she had to step away.
With the explosion at the stadium their case had ascended from local news and thrust into the national spotlight. The media was already circling the precinct, wanting to know more about the detective and her sister who was kidnapped by the deranged serial killer that they had already dubbed “The Baltimore Scribe” due to the notes he made his victims write. Cooper would be helpless as she watched their entire family history transform into soap opera entertainment for the masses. She’d seen it happen locally to citizens in the Baltimore community. But as bad as it was going to be for her, she knew it was only going to get worse for her nieces.
“Detective,” Hemsworth said, “you’ll need to find a place to stay until we can gather what we need from your apartment. If you don’t have anyone you can stay with the bureau can handle your accommodations.” He retained the business-like demeanor all morning and stepped aside as one of the techs entered her bedroom.
“I’ll figure it out.” Cooper took one last look at the killer’s message on the wall then left. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, away from the prying eyes of her neighbors and the FBI, she stopped and sat on the last step. The weight of the day fell with her, and Cooper buried her face in her hands, feeling the sweat and grime that had collected. Dull thuds and chatter from the agents upstairs mingled with the noise of the reporters waiting for her outside. Both were like insects buzzing about her ear, and no matter what she tried to do she couldn’t squash them.
Suddenly, the door opened, and with it came Hart and a flood of questions shouted from reporters. He shut the door quickly and pressed his back flush against the wood, the murmurs of the news teams still seeping through the door cracks. “Hey.”
Cooper rubbed her hands, her right one aching slightly from the day’s activities. “What are you doing here?”
Hart joined Cooper on the bottom step and pointed upstairs. “I heard about the raid on your place. I wanted to drop by and see how you’re holding up.”
Cooper leaned her head against the stairway banister posts and clutched her detective’s badge. “Why’d you join, Hart?” She cast him a sideways glance. “Why’d you want to become a detective?”
Hart twirled the gold band on his left ring finger, and the taut skin on his forehead wrinkled slightly. “I never did well in high school. I never considered myself stupid, but I wasn’t ever driven.” He shrugged. “The police academy seemed less dangerous than the military. Less chances for me to get shot at, anyway.”
“But why’d you become a detective?” Cooper pointed down to the ring, shining as though it were still in the case at the jewelry store. “Did you do it for her?”
Hart paused for a second, continuing to spin the ring around his finger. “It started that way. But after I went through the academy, something changed. I saw what we could do for the community, how we could make it better.” Hart shrugged, smiling. “Taking the detective exam seemed like a good way to catch more bad guys.”
It took Cooper a second to realize the tightness in her cheeks was from smiling. “Beth was always an idealist. Even when we were little kids. No matter what we were doing she always saw the glass as half full. No matter how bad the situation was it could always get better.”
“What about you?” Hart asked, giving her a nudge. “What made you become the legendary devil detective?”
Cooper released her grip on the badge and pushed herself off the staircase. “For reasons that don’t matter anymore.” Cooper took a step toward the door, and the noise of the reporters outside grew louder. She hesitated, reaching for the door, not wanting to confront the storm outside. She turned around. “Did stadium security ever find anything on the rest of those tapes?”
“No,” Hart answered, standing up from the staircase. “I spoke to a few of the workers, and none of them remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary over the past few days. I did get the reports from the morgue back about Alfonso Rivera. He was stabbed twice. Two incisions, the first in the liver, and the second in the kidneys.”
Cooper cringed, feeling the ghost-like pain in both areas. “He’s becoming more violent. And the bomb was reckless, which he knows. If he’s been doing this as long as he’s claimed, we might be able to look into unsolved missing persons or murder cases. See if he left any of his messages. It could help us decode his pattern. Maybe even figure out where he’ll hit next.”
“The unsolved cases are in the thousands, Cooper. It would take half the Baltimore police force to go through all of those files. We don’t have that kind of resources. Or time.”
Cooper lifted her head to the noise still running rampant in her apartment. “Sounds like a task for the FBI.” She smiled. “Night, Hart.” She reached for the handle, and before she opened it Hart presse
d his hand against the door.
“Hey, listen.” Hart scratched the back of his head, mumbling as he spoke. “I know we haven’t been partners for that long, and I cleared it with the wife before, so it’s completely fine, but you’re welcome to stay at our place until you can go back to your apartment.”
“I appreciate it, Hart. But I’m fine.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you then.” Cooper opened the door and shielded her eyes from the flash of cameras. Microphones were thrust into her face, reporters asking dozens of questions as she made her way down the stoop of her building. She shouldered her way through, staying quiet.
“Detective Cooper, do you have any leads?”
“Is it true that you and your sister had a strained relationship?”
“What’s going through your head right now?”
“Is it a conflict of interest to keep you on the case?”
The reporters followed her all the way to her car, a few even trying to chase after her when she drove off. She blew past two stop signs, and didn’t let her foot off the gas until there was nothing but the quiet of the engine and the night around her, sealing herself into the cone of silence that she’d grown accustomed to over the past few years.
The cruiser hummed slightly as Cooper idled on the side of the road, and she caught her mind retracing her career: the cases, the suspects, the court appearances, the investigations, all of the sleepless nights; her body grew stiff just thinking about it.
Cooper cracked her neck and then caught her reflection in the side mirror. The aged face staring back at her was one she didn’t recognize. The greys in her hair had made significant inroads in taking over the brown, and the tired bags under her eyes aged her well beyond her forty-one years. The job had taken its toll. But even with her experience, and all of the solved cases under her belt, none of it had prepared her for this, and the killer she had to stop.