by Deanna Lee
"I will now take a limited number of questions.” She let her gaze move around the room. “Yes, the gentlemen in the red."
"Nathan Meaton, New Orleans Times.” He smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket and offered her a smile. “Can you tell us the circumstances that caused Ms. Glory James to be hospitalized and placed under the care of the NOPD?"
"No, that information is confidential.” Her gaze moved around the room as she wondered who would ask the right question. She spotted the woman from Channel 4 and was pleased that she remembered the woman's first name. “Joanna."
Joanna smiled and moved slightly so her cameraman had a good view of Ana. “Where is Inspector Moray this morning?"
"She is currently working on administrative tasks and following up leads on several ongoing cases.” She paused and looked around the room. Who was going to ask the right question about the Waterman? She caught sight of a CNN camera in the back of room and swallowed hard. Christ, where had they come from? “Yes, the gentleman from CNN."
"Scott Fitzgerald.” He paused, letting his name saturate his audience at home. “The NOPD has not been very forthcoming about the details of this investigation...” He let the words linger. Scott was very good at what he did. “Who is the Waterman?"
"Well, as you can imagine, the Waterman case has spawned a lot of interest in many different areas. We have an FBI profiler on his way to join our task force. We've made great strides in evidence-gathering and feel confident that once we get our hands on the individual, we will have no problems making sure he spends the rest of his life in prison. He has left a trail of forensic evidence two miles wide, and it's very compelling."
"Are you afraid? He's already killed one cop,” Scott pressed.
"No, he's nothing to be afraid of. He's a thoughtless, amoral man. He's not a monster or specter lurking in the dark corners of this city. I suggest the public be leery of strangers and think smart if they identify him through the pictures we've provided.” She checked her comm-u. “One more question."
Joanna struck fast. “I have a source that claims Glory James was raped and nearly killed by the Waterman. Any comment?"
Ana pinned her with a cool look. “I believe I've already indicated that the department will not answer any questions in reference to Ms. James.” She looked around the room. “Anyone want to ask a question that I can answer?"
"What has the FBI profiler said about the killer?"
She nodded and glanced down at the folder in front of her on the podium. “The profile indicates that the killer is a young man between twenty and thirty. He's a white male from a severely dysfunctional family, little to no formal education. He has a history of violence against women, is disdainful of life, is likely impotent, and has never had a serious or lasting relationship with a woman other than his mother."
"Is that pity, Constable?"
"Pity is a far more appropriate response than fear.” Ana picked up the empty folder she'd brought in with her. “Good day."
She left the podium and kept her back rigid as she strode from the room.
"You did awesome,” Desi assured her as she hurried down the hall beside Ana.
"I haven't come that close to throwing up since my first year in the academy,” Ana snapped as she shoved into a large bathroom and hoped she hadn't entered the men's room. She went to the sink and turned on the water. “It was okay?"
"It was great."
"Okay, let's get back downstairs and watch the inspector destroy Orland Frees."
* * * *
"You see, Orland, after he realized that Stacey had removed her tattoo, he became enraged. You'll note the bruising and mutilation of her body is quite extensive.” Kyra took a deep drink of water from the bottle she'd picked up. “He, of course, took the time before he beat her to death to put his work back on her and then remove it. Aaron is certainly a creature of some habit."
"I want a lawyer."
She looked at him and smiled. “You aren't under arrest, Orland. You don't have the right to an advocate."
"You can't keep me like this."
"Actually, I can keep you for seventy-two hours. You are allowed a two-hour break every eight hours.” She checked her comm-u for the time. “And six hours of sleep after eighteen hours. You aren't due for a break, but I can give you a meal and something to drink."
"I haven't done anything."
"You threatened an officer of the law with a banned weapon."
"Which you haven't charged me with."
"Oh, we'll get there.” Kyra moved away from the wall and pointed her remote to the screen. “Aaron Belton is alive. You've been harboring him and aiding him. He's been killing women, Orland. He used your van to abduct and kill women."
Leaning down close to his face, she spoke again. “The first time he came home giddy with the pleasure of killing a woman, you knew what he'd done. He probably even told you about it, showed you his trophy."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The lock for his skinning shack was registered under a false name, but you've been paying the hunting taxes on it.” She sniffed delicately. “You're sweating, Orland. Do I make you nervous?"
"Got no to reason to be nervous. You're just a bitch cop."
"Did you hear that, Detective Jennings? Orland thinks I'm a bitch cop."
"It appears that your reputation is starting to precede you,” Ryan responded.
Kyra sat down at the table and stared at Orland for several seconds. “We've been going over that shack. If I find your prints in there, you're going to go down with him. I'll charge you as an accessory for each offense."
"Aaron Belton is dead."
"Are you afraid of Aaron, Orland? You should be. He's a complete psycho. He'd sooner kill you than not. Only reason he hasn't is that he finds you useful. What happens when you're no longer useful?"
"You got it all wrong! You think you know? You don't fucking know anything."
Kyra stood abruptly. “Jennings, you'll stand watch over Orland here. I need a little break."
"Works for me."
"Don't leave any marks on him,” Kyra snapped over her shoulder as she left the room.
Leaning against the wall outside of the interrogation room, Kyra went over the steps in her head. How they had come to believe that the man they wanted was a dead child named Aaron Belton? The observation room opened and Ana came out.
"The background on Orland?"
"Desi is still working it.” Ana looked toward the room. “Are you going back in there?"
"Yeah, after I know a little more."
* * * *
The FBI profiler, Frederick Lehman, was a thin, wiry man. He was sitting at her desk when she entered. “Agent Lehman, get the hell out of my chair."
He stood and smiled. “Inspector Moray, I've heard a great deal about you."
She watched him wearily as he moved over to Desi's station and sat down. “Yes, I imagine you have. The deputy mayor met with you just after you landed?"
"Oh, yes, he's displeased with you."
"He's a politician.” Kyra said “politician” like some people would say “pervert.” The distinction wasn't missed on Agent Lehman. “No matter what instructions he might have given you, this is my case, and you are here in a strictly advisory position."
"I have no interest in taking over the case. I think you're doing an exceptional job, and I told the deputy mayor so."
"Oh, so he's displeased with you, as well?"
"Yes.” He inclined his head. “You should be careful. He could make your career difficult."
"He should be careful. She could make his life difficult."
They both turned to watch Ana enter the room and close the door. “Desi is on her way up.” She cast the agent a look as she scooted into her own station. “She's got something exciting to report from the CSU team."
Desi threw open the door with her usual flare, glared briefly at Lehman for sitting in her chair, and focused on Kyra. “We found two set
s of prints in the shack. Orland Frees and the same unidentified set of prints that we pulled off Stacey Valteau's body."
"The check on Orland Frees?"
"He has a nearly perfect history. School, military service, and the like all neatly in place. He even draws a check from the government."
Kyra inclined her head. “But?"
"So, I'm looking at this file and I'm thinking ... no one is that perfect. No life plays out like that. It just reads like pure fiction."
"And was it?"
"I'm still working on it. If it is a hack job, it's a damn good one.” She walked toward her desk and smiled obligingly when Lehman got up. “I'll have the inspector's administrative assistant prepare you an office for your use while you're here, Agent."
"I don't have an administrative assistant."
"Sure you do.” Desi sat back in her chair. “Hired him myself this morning."
"You hired me an administrative assistant?” Kyra blinked.
"Yeah. I'm not going to get stuck doing your paperwork.” She captured her bottom lip between her teeth as she started working at her computer. “He's pretty, too."
"His name?"
"Abel Joshua, and he's perfect for the job. I feel like I've really created a beautiful working relationship for you,” Desi announced as the door opened, and a young man who could only be Abel Joshua walked in.
He was dressed in leather pants, a tight red tank top that showed off a well-developed chest and a tightly muscled stomach, and boots similar to Kyra's strapped halfway up his calves. Four hoops looped above his left eye, and shocking white-blond hair fell down his back to his waist. Strictly speaking, he had a beautiful face and the bright gold complexion of an interracial child. His eyes, probably altered, were black. He set a steaming cup of dark liquid in front of Kyra and glanced around the room before he took a parade-rest position that was all military.
Kyra leaned back in her chair and observed him. “I bite."
He smiled. “I have all of my shots, Inspector.” He eyed her. “Due to your current workflow, I've cleared six meetings that you would have ignored off of your schedule, moved your annual physical exam to next month, and paid all of your overdue bills.” He put two soft compu-pads on her desk. “You were fairly close to being evicted. Since I'd prefer not work for a homeless woman, I've set up automatic payment on your standard expenses."
Kyra glanced briefly at the compu-pads; the slim computerized notepads were often used for entering reports and internal office schedules. “Can I trust you, Abel?"
"As much as you trust anyone,” Abel answered automatically.
"How do I like my coffee?"
"When you can't get chocolate espresso with a double shot of caffeine, you'll drink coffee in which you take three creams and four sugars."
"Some believe I killed my last assistant."
"He must have been a real pansy,” Abel responded. “And he was messy; so was the woman you had before him. Your files are an abomination, and you haven't filed a single formal transcript for a case in six months. Once you get off your ass and catch the serial killer, you'll be spending a lot of time catching up."
"That's what you are for."
"I can't input and file what you haven't dictated."
Kyra opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a large box. “Seventy-two closed cases in the last six months. My oral reports are filed by case number and date on mini-disk in this box. You make this box empty in the next month, keep up with me in my current cases, and you can keep the job your sister wrangled you."
Abel glanced at Desi, who was staring at Kyra. “Sure.” He snagged the box and strolled out.
"How did you know?"
"You wouldn't have a desk in my office if I didn't know all I need to know about you, Dr. Marcos.” Kyra turned back to her own computer and chuckled. “And he's very pretty."
"Yeah, my mom got real lucky with her second marriage. I got a great stepfather and a kid brother, and she got the love of her life.” Desi leaned on her hand and looked at Kyra. “Speaking of love?"
Kyra held up a hand. “No more."
"You look very well rested."
"I slept like a stone."
"I'm sure you did.” Ana went to her desk and picked up one of the compu-pads that Abel had left behind. “He's really good."
"Positions like his are designed to keep investigating officers on the right path despite themselves.” Kyra picked up her p-pc and noted with some small amount of admiration that her calendar had been updated. “He does realize that he'll work in the field on occasion?"
"Yeah, I told him he might have to. He served in the Air Force for a five-year stint. He'll keep up with you.” Desi paused as she worked, then cleared her throat. “Okay, wow, I've just hit a federal seal.” She looked toward Agent Lehman, who had retreated to Kyra's sleeping cot and was knee-deep in his own compu-station. “A federal privacy seal."
He put aside his compu and stood. “My clearance is pretty high, but it may not be high enough. What's this for?"
"I'm running a background check on Orland Frees."
He leaned over and put in his credentials. “I expect good behavior, doctor."
Desi grinned as he walked away. “When I'm bad, I don't get caught.” She was silent for a few minutes before she spoke softly. “Orland Frees was in the New South Militia. In fact, he was the New South Militia. He turned on his members and turned several of the more radical of them in to the government for immunity."
"Shit, that's why his name was so familiar.” Kyra stood and went to the window. “That's going to make things interesting around here pretty soon.” She looked at Agent Lehman. “Don't you think?"
Lehman shrugged. “I'm going to start work on the killer's diary. I'll get with your admin about some space."
* * * *
Kyra entered the interrogation room and jerked her head at Jennings. He left the room without a backward glance at his prisoner. “We found your prints in the shack Aaron was using for his trophy room."
"Aaron is dead!” He started to stand but retreated to his chair when he saw her face. “He's dead."
"You led the New South Militia?” She laughed. “I can't picture a weak-willed fool like you leading a group of school kids across the street, much less being the head of a large antigovernment organization like NSM. They were the single biggest threat the new government faced during that time of internal strife."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure, I do. It's all in your FBI file.” She paused and looked at him.
"I have rights. I want an advocate."
Chapter Nineteen
"You don't think he's Orland Frees?"
"I don't know who he is.” Kyra watched the med-tech drawing Orland's blood. “Desi, get with Jeffrey. I want to know how his DNA relates to the killer's. Ana, get Billy Joe down here."
"Another official transport?"
"No, call him and ask him to come in. Tell him to bring that vest and charge my account."
"Making an apology?” Liz asked from the doorway of the observation deck.
"In a way he'll appreciate. It's better than a bribe; his wife does the tooling work in his shop."
"There's a visitor in your office."
"Oh, yeah?” Kyra checked the time and sighed. “I was going to go have lunch."
"I think the visitor in your office has to seen to that.” Liz couldn't keep the amusement from her voice.
Kyra left the observation deck and walked down the hall to Major Crimes. Several detectives were taking lunch at their desks, and comm-u stations were steadily buzzing. Her office door was open, and when she walked in, she found Alex at her desk passing out food to Ana and Desi. “Well, I hope you saved me some."
"Your grandmother sent me.” He leaned on the desk. “I won't repeat what she said, but the gist was that you needed food, too."
She walked past him and let her hand run along his arm. It was the only touch she was going to allow he
rself. Taking the box of food he offered, she looked him over. “You left Glory with my grandmother?"
"Yeah. It was every man for himself at that point. I told Mrs. Moray to call me when she was ready to leave, so I could come back and keep Glory company."
He left the edge of her desk where he'd been leaning, went to the large window behind her, and then walked around to peer at Desi's compu-station. “Nice."
"Yeah, I had to beg real pretty for it.” She stroked the lines of the portable unit with gentle fingers. “This is almost as good as a man."
Alex laughed. “You need to get out more."
"Yeah.” Desi sighed as she considered it. “So many men and so little time."
Kyra cleared her throat and stood. “How about I walk you out?"
He grinned. “Sure."
Kyra shoved her hands into her pockets and cast Ana a glare because she was grinning like a very pleased cat. The detective's area was silent as Kyra and Alex strode through. She pushed the button for the elevator and held up her hand at Abel as he strode up next to her. “No time."
"Your warrant for Mr. Frees's DNA sample has been validated."
Since she'd already had blood taken from him, it was good to know. “Good."
"You have a meeting with the commander and the mayor in twenty minutes."
She turned and looked at him as the elevator doors opened. “Why don't you go sit at your desk and look pretty?"
* * * *
"Man, why can't I have a man like that?” Desi shook her head. “I could use that sort of distraction. I really could."
"We can't all be that fortunate.” Ana turned in her chair and sighed. “His brother is just as fine."
"Yeah, I have his albums.” Desi ran her tongue along her teeth and nodded. “I could hurt him."
The office door opened, and Kyra stalked toward her desk. “How the hell am I supposed to be able to think with him around?” She slumped into her chair and stared at her desk for a moment. “Blood results?"