“There’s one thing we’re particularly interested in. We were unable to find a cell phone anywhere. She must have owned one, I’m assuming?” Megan asked.
“Shannon owned a BlackBerry once, but she never got the hang of it. She did have many cell phones.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Megan said.
“Shannon had a knack for misplacing things. Last month she left her purse on a bus. She had to cancel every credit card and order a new cell phone. Last weekend she forgot her laptop at the house. I still need to get it back to—” The pain caught her midsentence.
“What we’d like for you to do is keep the account of the cell phone open, and give us her number, if you don’t mind, so we can start checking records.”
“Of course. Of course,” Mr. McAllister offered.
Now was the point in the conversation neither detective was anxious to get to. They shared glances that had not gone unnoticed.
“What is it? You haven’t told us everything. I can tell,” Mr. McAllister said warily.
Mrs. McAllister hadn’t caught the hesitation between the detectives. Horrific thoughts ran through their minds but none as awful as the news they were about to receive. “Oh, God. Was she”—she put her hand to her face, barely able to get the word out—“raped?”
Nappa fielded this question. “No. Our medical examiner said there had been no sexual assault.”
“Well, then what in hell is it?” Mr. McAllister demanded.
Megan took the small plastic baggie out of her pocket, handing it to his wife. “Have either of you ever seen this ring before? Do you know if this belonged to your daughter?”
Mrs. McAllister took the bag, examining the contents. “I told you Shannon never wore gold. I don’t understand. What—” Her hands started to shake as she passed it to her husband. “What’s going on here?”
“This—this is very difficult for us to tell you, but it seems that whoever killed your daughter placed—”
“What do you mean, placed?” Mr. McAllister’s voice began to rise.
Nappa took a step toward him. “Sir, please.”
Megan continued, “The killer inserted this within your daughter’s vaginal canal.”
Mrs. McAllister grabbed her stomach, doubling over in her chair. Megan went to her side. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Mr. McAllister clutched the back of one of the folding chairs before slamming it against the wall. He could withstand no more. Nappa tried to catch him as he fell to his knees. He grabbed Nappa’s shoulder and released a scream so primal you could feel his soul breaking as he wailed the only word possible:
No. No. No.
six
Following the identification of Shannon’s body, Megan and Nappa completed the remaining paperwork needed at the coroner’s office. Emerging into the crisp New York air, Megan nosed her surroundings. She was reminded that not every breath of the day bore the lingering scent of formaldehyde.
“Nappa, this is going to be a motherfucker. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I’m sure you’re right, which is why I need you on this case, McGinn.”
“Fuck all, Nappa—” Megan halted mid sentence to face him, “You and I both know this is a football field away from a lover’s-quarrel-gone-bad murder.” She shook her head and started pacing back and forth. “I can’t do this one. Not now. Not after the whole Worth case.”
“You were the one who got Worth. You.”
“Yeah, and because I spent all that time on Worth, I fucking missed the last few months with my father!”
And now the truth was out. Megan hated admitting it, but her guilt for not spending more time with her dad was starting to come to light and into her heart. “I’ll never get that time back. I was too busy chasing a fucking psycho!”
Nappa smoothed his tone. “That’s what this is about?”
Megan tightened her fists, pressing her fingernails into her palms in hopes of pushing down the rising lump in her throat, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“McGinn,” Nappa whispered, “he’s gone.”
“I can’t say those words.” She moved away. “Not right now. Not yet.”
They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Nappa slowed his pace, allowing Megan to walk ahead of him. He knew to switch gears and give Megan the space to regain her footing after her emotional disclosure. “You think this is the unsub’s first?”
“Not a chance.”
People bustled past them. The noise and the traffic did little to distance them from how they spent the last few hours. Metrosexual men resembling Ralph Lauren ads strutted while texting aimlessly into iPhones. One particular guy caught Megan’s eye. He wore a perfectly fitted ribbed turtleneck covered by a dark suede jacket. Nice contrast. A new TAG Heuer peeked out from under his suede cuff as he nonchalantly ran a hand through his overly product-filled hair. Megan glanced in his direction, but men like him did nothing for her, especially today.
“How do you think they’ll do?” Megan asked as she took her cell phone out to check for a signal. She knew she had to dial it. Just to check. Just to see if anyone would pick up.
“The McAllisters?” asked Nappa.
“Yeah.”
“Oh God. I don’t know. I can’t imagine it. I don’t know how any of the families handle it.” He winced, partly from the chilly breeze, partly from thinking about the horrific circumstances of losing a family member in that manner. “It’s just so vicious, so sudden. I’m not sure how anyone could get through something like that.” He looked back at Megan as she started dialing the phone.
“You’re trying the number the McAllisters gave us?”
She nodded, waiting. “It doesn’t mean I’m staying on this. I was waiting for you to think of it, but as usual everything falls on me.”
Nappa stared straight ahead. “Hmm.”
It went directly to voicemail, and then she experienced another first. Listening to the dead. Some people sound stiff when recording their outgoing message, uncomfortable. Others are at the opposite end of the spectrum: obnoxious, like an insecure actor overdoing a scene. But Shannon’s voice was sweet, buoyant, and now silenced forever.
Nappa could see the discomfort in Megan’s face. He took the phone from her, closed it. “Let’s go, McGinn.” They walked in somber silence for a few minutes. Hoping to lighten the moment, he said, “By the way, very nice interview today. You’re a natural in front of the cameras. A very calming force.”
“Yeah?” Megan smiled. “Thanks. There was a real organic feel to the conversation.”
“A respectful give and take”—he rolled his eyes—“especially when she thought more insight was needed on the case.”
“Oh yes. The zen was definitely flowing then,” Megan said.
“Okay. So what’s next? Max is running everything ASAP and—” At that moment Nappa’s cell rang. “Nappa.” It was their boss, Lieutenant Walker. “We just left Max’s office. It went as expected. We’re on our way back now.”
Megan waved goodbye to Nappa’s cell phone as he closed it.
“She wants us back for an update,” he said.
“I feel another zen moment coming on.”
“Isn’t one enough for today?”
Megan took a serious turn. “Do you think we should have told them about the vaginal canal being sewn shut?”
“I thought about that, too, but I think we made the right call. It’s important to keep that information confidential, especially—”
Megan interrupted, “—if we get another victim. If you get another victim.”
Just as she finished her sentence, Megan’s cell phone rang. She answered it.
“Megs, it’s Brendan. Good news—the Olsen Facility has an opening for Mom. I managed to get a private room. The hitch is you have to get her over there today, or we lose it.”
<
br /> “What, can’t you do it? I’m on a case.”
“We’re about to get on a plane back to Ohio.”
“You’re going back already?”
“The kids need to get back into school, have their routines back on track.”
“Jesus Christ, Brendan.”
“Do you have any idea how fucking expensive a private room is at one of these places? And plus I’m taking Dad’s stupid dog for Chrissakes.” Brendan took a deep breath before he continued, “Shit. I’ll come back in a few weeks and we can start clearing out the house. You won’t be the only one, baby sister. We’ll all chip in.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll get her and go right now.” Megan checked her watch. “Have a safe trip home.” Instead of a goodbye, she slapped her phone shut. “Nappa, this facility that we’ve been waiting to get Mom into has an opening, but I have to get her over there today. Why don’t you go back and get the lieutenant up to speed? I have to go to Brooklyn.”
“Is Brendan going with you?”
“No. He’s on his way back to Ohio.”
“Come on. We’ll both go. You shouldn’t do this alone.”
Megan didn’t fight him on his offer; if anything, she was relieved. “Thank you.”
_____
“Jesus, this is a nice place,” Megan said staring into the lobby. “I may move in here myself if I ever wanted to move back to Brooklyn.” Nappa pushed the wheelchair carrying her mother through the sliding doors. He looked around, equally impressed.
“What do you think this costs?”
“I don’t know, but I’m definitely glad Brendan is paying,” Megan answered. They went up to the front desk. “I’m Detective Megan McGinn. I was told you have an opening for my mother, Rose McGinn?”
The woman seated behind the desk clicked into her computer, “Yes, right here, Rose McGinn. Private room. First three months paid in full. Let me get the doctor, a nurse, and the social worker assigned to her so we can do a full admission proceeding. It looks like from my records she will be in Room B16. That wing was just updated, so I’m sure she’ll be quite comfortable. We will need all of her medical records to be transferred here as soon as possible.”
Megan nodded, looking back at her mother. It was becoming all too real what she was about to do. The guilt rose in her like a balloon released to the sky. An orderly showed them to Rose’s room, and they waited for the staff to arrive.
“Hey, Mom. What do you think? You have a big room all to yourself.” Megan knelt down by her mother, tucking the blanket into the wheelchair. “You’re going to love it here.”
Rose replied by smacking her daughter’s hand. Megan was relieved it wasn’t another left hook.
The nurse was the first to arrive. “Megan McGinn?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the nurse handling your mother’s admittance.”
“So, you’re the head nurse?”
“No, I’m Breton. Your mother’s full-time nurse is Marcie. I’m covering for her while she’s at a luncheon seminar. She’ll return shortly.”
“She’s very agitated. My father passed away this week so, she’s been very, well—” Megan swallowed hard. “Combative.”
“I understand. I’m going to help her into bed, since you have basically an hour’s worth of forms to fill out.” She handed Megan a folder with Rose’s full name and birth date printed on the tab. “If you don’t mind starting this while I take down your mother’s vitals?”
“Of course.”
The nurse shifted the wheelchair closer to the bed. She locked the brakes and hoisted Rose onto the bed. This was familiar territory for the day nurse, but Megan was less than comfortable with tactile maneuvers involving her mother. She was always waiting for the outburst or the aggressive comment that would be forgotten as soon as her broken mind lashed out with it.
“I’m just going to take her blood pressure, temperature, basic vitals. The doctor will be in soon.” The nurse moved Rose’s hair away from her cheek when Rose grabbed her by the wrist. “Rose, it’s alright. This isn’t going to hurt.”
Rose’s grip was unforgiving. Nappa stepped in before Megan had a chance to react. “Mrs. McGinn, it’s okay.” It took some doing before he was able to free the nurse’s wrist from Rose’s grasp. His cuff became caught on her jewelry.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re in a new place, sweetheart.” The nurse tried to calm Rose down the best she knew how. “I’m sorry, until the doctor arrives I can’t administer anything unless it’s listed on her chart.”
Megan hovered over Rose. “Momma? Momma, it’s Meggie, everything’s okay.” She turned toward the nurse. “I’m so sorry.”
She offered an empathetic nod. “Please understand this is very typical; it’s okay. I’m fine.” She turned toward Nappa. “Thank you.”
After Rose’s outburst, Megan continued to sign form after form. By the time the doctor arrived, there was little left to be done other than confirm Rose’s medication. With that completed, it was time to say goodbye. The nurse was kind enough to add, “This really is a wonderful facility. She’ll be well taken care of.”
Megan couldn’t speak without fear of tears forming. She smiled and nodded. Nappa put his hand on her shoulder and told her he’d wait outside.
Rose was sitting up in bed staring out the window. Megan sat beside her and did the same. “Time for me to go, Momma,” she said and patted her mother’s leg. “I’ll be back soon to check on you.” She leaned in, hugging her mother tightly, wishing she’d hug back. “Love you much, Momma.” She kissed her on the cheek before walking out of the room.
seven
Lieutenant Pearl Walker flipped a pen back and forth with one hand while the other held her forehead, probably trying to comfort a headache before it transformed into a migraine. Megan spied her boss through the open doorway and knew neither of them was looking forward to this meeting. News of an Upper East Side woman being murdered provoked major concern from Megan’s bosses and, in turn, her bosses. A homeless man being beaten to death or a drug deal gone wrong was merely a sad reflection of the society we lived in today; a young upper-middle-class woman pursuing a degree in social work viciously murdered in her own home, however, held all the ingredients of a public-relations nightmare. Walker needed this case to be solved quickly, and she knew one of the few detectives who could deliver was Megan McGinn. Given the recent death of her father, the lieutenant was undoubtedly worried Megan might not be emotionally equipped to handle the high-pressure case. But, being a frequent visitor to the track, Walker knew where and when to place her bets. This meant she was putting her money down on Megan to win, place, and show.
The lieutenant had a Newton’s pendulum set on her desk. Five metallic silver balls hung from a frame in alignment. Pull back on one of the balls, drop it down to collide with the others, and it produced a calming click-clack-click-clack. Or so it was supposed to; this seemed like false hope from an office-supply catalog when Megan knocked on the open office door.
“Come in.”
Let the clicking commence.
Lieutenant Walker’s office wasn’t a large, ornate room, but it possessed a strict level of style and power, a reflection of the woman who occupied it. A credenza faced her desk displaying her many achievements, both professionally and personally. A photograph of her with the current mayor and governor at a charity event sat next to a plaque honoring her work with Big Sisters of America. A certificate of mentorship from the New York Urban League was proudly displayed on the top shelf. Her desk held her family photo: her and her dentist husband with their two daughters.
“Lieutenant, you wanted to see us?” Megan asked.
“Take a seat.”
Megan sat in the only chair while Nappa leaned against the wall.
“First off, I’m sorry about your dad.”
Megan solemnly replied, “I saw
you at the funeral. Thank you for coming.”
“Second, I’m sorry to hear about your mom. Nappa told me you just put her in a nursing home. I hate those places.”
“Well, at least this is a nice one,” Megan said.
“Third, are you up for this case right now?”
Images of herself as a young girl waiting for her father to come home from work, giving her a warm hug and telling stories of his day, filled Megan’s mind. The sound of his voice calling every morning and how that was now silenced filled her heart.
My father is dead. My father is dead. It’s real.
It was as if he were standing next to her in the room at that moment and whispered in her ear, Go get ’em, Meganator.
Megan raised her head and looked straight into her boss’s eyes, “Yes. I need to be here. I need to work on this, Lieutenant.”
Walker paused a moment to study Megan’s determination. “Okay, so what do we have?” She sat back, taking in a deep breath to brace before beginning what she seemed sure would be a taxing conversation.
“Strangled. No signs of rape. No prints. Forensics is still working the scene, but it looks like the whole place was cleaned from top to bottom,” Megan answered.
“Witnesses? Anyone in the building see or hear anything?” Walker looked over at Nappa.
“None so far. We still have some officers canvassing the building. We spoke with the super. He went into her apartment to fix the kitchen sink, and that’s when he found her,” Nappa replied.
“So what are we talking? Botched robbery? A jilted boyfriend?”
Megan jumped in then. “Definitely not a robbery. Her purse held her wallet with cash and credit cards in place. Jewelry was still there; a pearl necklace was sitting on top of the dresser. We asked her parents and they said she didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“That they knew of anyway.” Walker, being the mother of two daughters, had experienced on more than one occasion how daughters can self-edit what they share with their parents.
“The mother was pretty adamant about that,” Nappa said.
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