by J. D. Robb
McNab plucked one of the crusty little rolls from the shallow bowl on the table, tossed it in the air, caught it. Bit right in.
“Problem with the ’link from the Chinese place is it’s way old-school,” he said around the bread, “and when they override it a million times, the transmissions blur together, even after you dig them out. If we knew the ’link code we were after, sure, we’d piece that with some time. Going blind, trying to find the one without knowing the code or the registered name, that’s a crapshoot.”
“We’ll take a look at it here as well.” Roarke brought over glasses, poured out. “But I have to agree. It’s a challenge when you know what you’re after, specifically, but without knowing specifics, it’s a shot in the dark.”
Banner brought out a tray with bowls of steaming stew. “The guy at the restaurant thought he knew at least some of the order, about the approximate time. But McNab says there’s a lot of layers, and a lot of people tagging up in that time frame, a lot of orders for kung pao chicken and eggrolls and that kind of thing.”
“We already cleaned up some of the security feeds.” McNab dug right in. “That’s not going to be a big. We get enough there, we figure we’ll try storefront cams, see if we can catch them walking. Get a direction.”
“This here’s as good as my ma’s, if not better.” Banner glanced around the table as he spooned up more stew. “And I’d appreciate it if nobody repeated that if you ever meet her. I got the impression they’re likely closer to the restaurants than the hardware, because they’ve been there more. True enough James bought that big roll of plastic, and it’s hard going finding parking there, so you wouldn’t figure it’s far.”
He sampled the wine cautiously, then lifted his eyebrows. “This is nice. I was thinking, when Baxter and me were walking it, if I was after the plastic and whatnot, I’d walk, make two trips if I needed to. Y’all are more used to the traffic and all that. James would be more like me there, I think. You want to park it, much as you can.”
Eve sat back. “Tuck the van away, only bring it out for hunting. Walk or try public transpo otherwise.”
“Driving in this city’s crazy, and everybody doing it always seems more than a little pissed off. I paid what I had to pay to have the rental company come get the ride I used to get here. I’ll take the bus back to the transpo station when I leave. Maybe give the subway a try.”
Eve rose, went to the board. “Wherever they’re nesting, it’s highly probable it was a matter of opportunity. An empty apartment, a vacant building still can’t be dismissed, or they invaded someone’s home. Downtown. Trendy areas, maybe, something she’d read about or seen on screen. Can’t say why at this point, but they’re Lower West Side, below the West Village. North of Tribeca, west of SoHo and Greenwich Village. Nothing else fits as well.”
“You’re thinking they may be holding a third person – or more,” Roarke said. “If they saw an opportunity to force or break into a home, an apartment.”
“I’ve been playing with the idea, checked missing persons through the day. But they took Mulligan. That’s two they’ve got, unless they’ve killed Campbell and took the time and effort to hide the body.”
“And why hide hers when they didn’t hide Kuper’s,” Peabody put in.
“Holding a third, or say a couple, a family?” Looking into the eyes of the killers, Eve shook her head. “It’s hard, it’s messy, it’s work. And if you kill them, you’ve got a bigger mess to deal with. Can’t keep the bodies for long. Their pattern, until Mulligan, was one at a time. I figure low probability on them holding anyone else.
“But they’ve got a place.” She brought up the map, picked up a laser pointer, circled. “Right in here.”
“Door-to-doors?” Peabody asked.
“I’d like to try to narrow it more, but that might be the next step. It’s going to take the feds some time to read DeWinter’s report, process it, figure out which ass cheek to scratch. Zweck has what we’ve got, and we’ll see what he does with it. Maybe we pull the checking for gas leaks, something like that. I want a narrower area before we try that.”
She circled the board. “Nothing on the van. Nothing from the extra patrols in this sector.”
“They’ve got to go out sometime.” McNab shrugged. “What’s the point of coming all the way to New York and staying inside?”
“They’re having a real good time inside,” Eve replied.
“Eat,” she ordered. “Then let’s start squeezing the box.”
19
Her office smelled like chicken and dumplings soaked in strong black coffee – with a dash of cherry from McNab’s endless fizzies.
Roarke brought in another auxiliary as she doled out assignments. Peabody to cover deep background on Darryl Roy James, Banner deep background on Ella-Loo Parsens. Roarke and McNab would continue the e-work, combing through security discs in evidence, and checking any storefront cams that may have picked up their suspects on foot.
Eve worked the maps, focused on trying to narrow the target area foot by foot.
The first interruption, a ’link tag from Special Agent Zweck, pulled her out of the groove. But by the end of it she kicked back in her chair, feet on the desk.
“I’ll keep you updated,” she told him. “You’ll let me know how you want to proceed on your end.”
She picked up her coffee, and though it had gone cold during the conversation, drank it anyway.
“The feds won’t sign off on Little and Fastbinder as vics of the spree killers they still refer to as unsubs.”
Banner’s head came up in one fast jerk. “What?”
“Someone’s dick’s in a knot over DeWinter’s report – which apparently fried asses, many of which she named, specifically, before she sliced them up for the pan.”
Yeah, she definitely owed DeWinter that drink.
“The remains ‘in question’ will be transferred to a federal facility in the morning where federal forensic specialists will examine and test.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s bureaucracy. DeWinter’s on a rampage and stomping on other dicks to get the remains of Noah Paston in her house. The boy’s next of kin has signed off on it, and my money’s on DeWinter. Oh yeah, I forgot.”
Eve circled a finger in the air. “Same thing. While the feds will investigate James and Parsens, thoroughly review our reports and findings, they will not, at this time, name them as suspects. They are, officially, ‘persons of interest’ only.”
“We’ve tracked them,” Peabody began.
“We’ve verified James and Parsens met in Oklahoma in ’57. There is reasonable evidence James stole a ’52 pickup matching the description of one towed away, illegally, by the Dorrans. Federal investigations will track whatever’s left of that vehicle to verify or disprove it was the one James allegedly stole. We’ve determined Parsens bore a female child, but until DNA can be tested, the child’s paternity remains a question mark for the feds.”
“Assholes,” Banner muttered.
“A sentiment I believe Zweck shares but was careful not to voice. We can’t, at this time, prove without a doubt Parsens and James killed anyone or, indeed, took the route we’ve determined through our investigation. We haven’t to their satisfaction proven either Parsens or James is, indeed, in New York. They will examine the loading dock feed, and Zweck will follow up with the hardware store, pawnshop, restaurants in the morning.”
“Stepping in our footprints,” Peabody said. “Wasting time and resources.”
“Dicks,” Eve returned and made a tying motion with her hands. “Here’s what that means for us. We won’t have the full weight of the federal resources on the investigation. We also won’t have them in the way. Zweck, if I’m any judge, is going to do a lot of pushback on this. He, apparently, isn’t a moron.
“It also means we’ve got a breather on the FBI releasing James’s and Parsens’s names and faces to the media. A breather, because someone may unknot his dick long enough to th
row them out as POIs.”
Banner considered. “So, nothing much changes.”
“Nothing much. Zweck’s going to raise some hell – that’s my take. But somebody higher on the food chain doesn’t like being told they’re wrong – and the mistake might, eventually in the media, make them look bad. The feds didn’t listen to you, Banner, and you were right. That makes them wrong. A small-town deputy – no offense.”
“None taken.”
“Was right, and the FBI was wrong. That’ll knot a lot of dicks.”
Eve nodded toward the board from where she sat. “And if they’d done what you did, if they’d backtracked from Little Mel, tied into Jansen, maybe they’d have caught these fuckers sooner. Maybe some people would still be alive.”
“They’ve gotta live with that,” Banner said.
The kind of badge whose dick knotted over being wrong, Eve knew, could and did live with it. They just shifted the blame down the food chain.
“That’s the maybes,” she continued, “and that kind of maybe doesn’t look good in PR and political terms. And it doesn’t change a thing for us. So give me some more on James.”
Banner shoved his hand through his hair, shifted in his chair.
“He wasn’t much for school, skimmed through, did some repeating, worked with a state-sponsored tutor a time or three. No extra activities, nothing over mandatory requirements. That includes sports, and that’s the exception rather than the rule in small towns back where I come from.”
“Not a team player,” Eve concluded, “not an academic.”
“Not even close. Got a weak spot for sex and women.”
“Details.”
“I got a bunch of articles here on how he had an affair with one of his teachers. He was fifteen – she was twenty-six. She did time for it.”
Eve straightened in her chair. “Was he coerced?”
“Doesn’t read that way. I’ll send them to you, but it reads pretty clear he wasn’t coerced, forced or pressured. Doesn’t excuse the teacher, not one bit, and it’s statutory rape however you slice it, but he was willing and eager. Romanced her.”
“Romance again.”
“Bought her flowers, wrote her bad poetry, gave her little gifts. Came out he’d stolen most of them. And he was also banging two other girls during the same six months – that came out when they testified. One took a slap as she was eighteen. The other was sixteen, so that’s legally consensual.”
“Sex, stealing, romance. He started all of it young.”
“Had some tangles – his juvenile record’s unsealed,” Banner added. “Got a history of shoplifting and moved that up to joyriding, destruction of property, a couple minor assaults. Usual court-appointed counseling, community service. And a quick stint of rehab when he got bagged with some illegals. Can’t get into any of his psych reports – they’re sealed.”
Eve thought of Roarke – the quick way. Or Mira – the official way. “We’ll cut through that if necessary.” Either way.
“He showed an aptitude for mechanics – had better luck for the year they put him in trade school. Showed above-average interest and aptitude for electronics. What you get, Lieutenant, is he’s not all-over bright, but has a knack for those areas. But he’s bone-lazy with it. He took off at sixteen, ended up in Texas, got popped trying to boost a car and did his time in juvie down there. We got pretty much the rest of it.”
“Get that to Mira. It’ll add to the whole picture. Peabody, Parsens.”
“It’s going to sound like a lot of repetition. Low-level achiever in school, no extracurriculars, with a handful of suspensions and write-ups for fighting, disruption of others, unexcused absences. Accused a male teacher of molestation. Thorough investigation there, by my eye. The teacher was completely vindicated. Solicited another – who had a recorder in his pocket, running. Sex for a passing grade was her offer. Any kind of sex he wanted. Mandatory counseling, community service assigned. Dropped out as soon as she reached legal age. No steady employment, and all employment on record is bar work. Applied for an LC license at eighteen, again at twenty-one. Both times denied.”
When she picked up her mug, frowned into it, Banner said, “Out?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll fix you up.”
“Actually, I could do with something sweet at this point. Could you make it an orange fizzy?”
“Coming up. Keep going,” he said as he rose. “I can hear you.”
“I dug up a couple reports, when she was a minor. She was accused of killing a dog – twice.”
Now, Eve thought. There it was. The need to shed blood, give pain.
“How young was she?”
“Thirteen the first time – they couldn’t nail it down, but she’d gone a round with this other girl, over a boy. And the girl’s dog ended up eating poisoned kibble. She was fifteen the next time, and it was the same sort of scenario. Only this time the dog was cut up, burned, and found hanging from a tree.”
“Bitch,” Banner muttered from the kitchen. “I’ve got a soft spot for dogs. I know she’s doing people, but I’ve got a soft spot.”
“Torturing and/or killing animals. One of the foundations of a serial killer. She’d have gone on to people eventually. With or without James, she’d have evolved to that. Any more?” Eve asked.
“We’ve got a few police reports with her the complainant – boyfriend at the time popping her one, other rape or molestation charges. From the photos and reports, the popping did happen, and was mutual. None of the sex charges stuck.”
“Sex as a payoff, a weapon, as currency. I’ve talked to Charles about this sort of thing before.”
“Charles who?” Banner asked as he came back with two fizzies.
“Former LC, current sex therapist, friend,” Eve explained. “And if we consulted him I’d expect him to say sex was never a real pleasure for her. Always a weapon or tool. Maybe we’ll find she rang that bell with James, and that’s what keeps her with him. That, and the killing.”
Peabody took a big gulp of fizzy, winced, rubbed between her eyebrows. “Cold snap. Why do I do that? She ran away a couple of times as a minor, but always came back on her own. Took off for good at eighteen. Stepfather reported stolen articles, cash, but withdrew the complaint.”
“Her mother pushed there,” Eve speculated.
“She bounced around, ended up at the Rope ’N Ride.”
“Organize it, get it to Mira. When we get these two, we’re nailing them shut.”
She rose, pulled out her signaling ’link. “Santiago, give it to me.”
“We rounded up the warden, a couple of guards, the head waitress from the place Parsens worked, her former landlord, and just to top it off, the midwife who delivered her baby. We corralled them, boss.”
“You’ve been out there too long.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Sum it up. You’re on screen,” she said as she walked back to her office, ordered the open transmission. “Talking to the room.”
“Yo, room. Wish I was there. According to all reports, James kept his head down and his nose clean during his incarceration. Took some classes in e-work, did well. Worked in the mechanics shop, did exceptional. He was, in fact, recommended for a job at a local garage here, but requested permission to return home after his early release, stating he and his woman wanted to go home, where their baby was being tended by family. Said permission was granted. He never reported in.”
“They took off, heading east.”
“The guards on his block said he was affable and easy. Did a lot of reading on his time in, talked about his woman, who visited him every week. They took advantage of every scheduled conjugal. According to Parsens’s supervisor at the bar, she wasn’t what you’d call a self-starter, didn’t get along well with the other staff, and was suspected of offering sexual favors on the side. Her landlord adds to that. She brought men home, but none of them stayed above an hour, usually less. She left without notice, and owing back-rent. She drove the p
ickup, had it serviced a time or two – and it’s believed paid for service with service.”
“No surprises there.”
“The midwife? She says definitely imbibed during pregnancy – but she could never prove it. Caterwauled – that’s a quote – during delivery that, according to the source, was as easy as a cat having kittens. I can’t speak to that, never having had kittens or a baby, for which I remain eternally grateful.”
“What is that noise?”
“It’s cows, Lieutenant. Or steers. I think there’s a difference, but I’m not going to ask. There are… members of the cow/steer/cattle family in the trailer Carmichael opted to park next to. I really don’t think they like it in there.”
“You should get away from there, in case they get out.”
“I’m thinking that.” Glancing over his shoulder, he walked a few paces away. “You’ve been off-planet, right, LT?”
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t, but I think this is something like it. Anyway, the midwife stated Parsens’s labor was textbook and quick. No interest from Parsens in the kid after. The midwife was concerned enough, she went back twice a day, on her own time, to check on the baby, make sure it was clean and fed. Bottle and store-bought milk, earning said midwife’s stern disapproval. Parsens said – quote – she wasn’t having her tits ruined from some baby sucking them dry.
“When Parsens took off with the kid, came back without her, the midwife was worried enough to do some digging – again on her own – came up with Parsens’s mother, contacted her. She ascertained the baby was there, but didn’t reveal her connection to Parsens or Parsens’s location, as she could’ve lost her license for it. But she needed to be sure the kid was alive and well. She believed Parsens capable of dumping it somewhere, or even infanticide.”
“Infanticide’s a serious leap.”
“Midwife said Parsens was a lot more concerned about getting her body back in shape than the kid. Claims she saw actual hate in Parsens’s eyes once when the baby was crying, and the midwife tried to get her to take care of it.”