Too Dark To Sleep

by Dianne Gallagher

  A second later, Nick Dublowski was standing beside her.

  “First rule, hands to yourself,” Maggie whispered as they walked toward the officers. “Don’t touch anything and don’t let anyone else touch anything. Touch it and you’ve changed it.”

  “I know.”

  “Keep as few people on the scene as possible. Fewer people, fewer mistakes. That means the brass, too. They like to come and pee in the corners to mark their territory. Kick their asses out and take the flack later.” Maggie snapped her gum. “Tierney will always back you on that.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have the uniforms set up a perimeter. Get a command in place. Keep everyone out. Keep your scene clean. You’re in charge, so act like it,” she said under her breath. “Make ‘em jump.”

  Dublowski gave the slightest nod. “Okay, we need to clear the area.”

  “Like you mean it,” Maggie whispered.

  “I need everyone out now. If you’re not me, you don’t need to be here.”

  Maggie could see the young man was amazed when everyone obeyed. “Get your information from the first,” she reminded him.

  “Who was first?”

  The first uniform at the scene secured it. They checked the victim, called an ambulance if necessary, detained suspects or witnesses at the location and limited access.

  “Sir.” A young woman stepped forward. “Officer Valdez. We got a call about a probable break and enter regarding the building in question. My partner and I arrived at 10:15. After checking the exterior of the building, we entered through the door on the east side. The door was unlocked, but showed signs of forced entry. We proceeded to the first floor. There was nothing unusual.”

  The young officer’s eyes kept flitting between Dublowski and Maggie. “On the second floor, we discovered the body of a female, Caucasian, approximately 20 to 25 years of age. Brunette.”

  Not beaten up as badly, Maggie told herself. Not if they could call an age. You could barely tell Phillips was human. This wasn’t a progression. Killers didn’t get less violent, not the ones who left a mess like they found at Pershing.

  “The victim shows signs of mutilation…”

  Before Valdez could finish, Dublowski headed for the building. Maggie made sure she stayed behind him so it was clear to the others who was in charge. The young man’s steps quickened the closer he got to the warehouse.

  “Slow down,” Maggie hissed.

  Dublowski didn’t hear. He and Valdez were already a couple yards in front of her. Maggie was winded, but she scanned the building quickly. Her eyes pulled in as much information as possible. How many entries? Three from her position. Two doors, one set of accessible windows. Valdez said there were signs of forced entry at the back door. At Pershing the killer went through a window and opened the door from the inside. They should check the other entrances just in case. Did he carry her in or drag her? Did he leave anything behind? Did the victim? No time to check. She wanted to take a closer look, but Dublowski was barreling toward the warehouse. There was no choice but to follow. She had to get to the victim with Dublowski.

  Maggie sucked air through her teeth as the detective reached for the doorknob. He heard the whistling and stopped. The door was ajar already. No need to touch the knob. What the hell was he thinking? Keep your hands to yourself. It was the first rule. He nodded, paused and pushed the door open with his foot. Quinn exhaled sharply, quickly pushing the air through her teeth. Again, he paused. What was he forgetting? What was he supposed to do next?

  “You stay here,” he said finally to Valdez. “Set up a perimeter and don’t let anyone in. Is that understood? I want this area secured.”

  The officer nodded and got to work.

  “Here we go,” Nick smiled, stepping into the darkness.

  Maggie dove after him. There weren’t as many windows in this building and the dark was waiting inside. Dublowski was up the stairs. She could see him. She could also see the shadows twining around the handrail and oozing down the steps. Click. Her flashlight was on. It was the biggest one Maggie could fit in her pocket, but still not big enough for the job. There wasn’t much coverage and her back was completely vulnerable.

  Dublowski was going up the stairs. He’d be at the scene soon. Maggie bit her lip and stepped into the shadows. She directed the light as best she could, creating a soft arc of safety in front of her. She felt black claws dig into her back.

  Another set of claws.

  Then another.

  With each step, her muscles burned with the added weight. Maggie wanted to scream, instead she focused on the stairs. She just had to make it to the stairs. At the stairs, Maggie promised herself she just needed to get to the second floor. That’s all. Just to the second floor. The pain was amazing as the dark dug into her flesh, burrowing toward her heart, squeezing her lungs. Maggie fought for air. Just a few more yards and she would be there. There were windows on the second floor. There would be light. The dark knew it too and dug furiously.

  Nick Dublowski looked back and saw Quinn on the steps. What the fuck was taking her so long? Why the hell did she need a flashlight? It was dark, but not that dark. The flashlight. Was she looking for evidence?

  “Come on,” he said.

  The dark shrieked as Maggie finally stepped into the sun. She struggled to stay standing as the shadows pulled back, tearing loose as much of her as possible on the way.

  Nick saw the sweat, the pale face, the glazed looked. Before he could speak, before she could explain, the smell hit them. The sweet odor of decay. It was warm. Depending on the TOD, the body might be swollen with fluids. A popper. Maggie straightened herself, wiped the sweaty hair from her face and grabbed a fresh piece of gum. She handed one to Dublowski and both chewed frantically.

  “You forgot your command,” Maggie said.

  “Valdez is setting up a perimeter.”

  “Jesus, didn’t they teach you anything? You need a point outside, in the parking lot. Everyone who comes in, signs in. Everyone who leaves, signs out and reports what they did.”

  “We didn’t do that before.”

  “And your scene was shit. You want a good investigation, you start here. Draw your lines, keep your scene clean.”

  Dublowski nodded.

  “Well?” Maggie waited for him to move.

  “You mean right now?”

  “You’re losing time. Set up your post. Put Fontana in charge of the command. He’s the tall, gangly guy.” She caught the uniform out of the corner of her eye on the way in. “He’s about as anal as you can get. That’s what you want for command. Start canvassing. Put Valdez on it. She’s thorough. Get your officers talking to people fast. A witness’ memory…”

  “Half life of thirty seconds.” The young man nodded.

  It took ten minutes to get the instructions out. Nick could tell who had worked with Quinn before. They were the ones who nodded and immediately got down to business. The others tried to keep up. With everyone in motion, Dublowksi dashed back to the warehouse for the real work.

  “Remember, write everything down. Don’t trust your memory,” Maggie said, willing her adrenaline to ebb. “And take your time. Look at the big picture first. Is there anything that catches your attention? Anything you see or hear or smell. Anything that’s out of place.”

  Dublowski nodded and pretended to write. What he wanted to do was get near the body. That’s where the action was. He pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket, then caught Quinn’s look.

  “What?”

  “No gloves. It’s like giving yourself permission to touch everything. Work a couple dozen scenes, then you can walk in with gloves.”

  Dublowski shook his head as he pocketed the gloves. The room was well-lit. Lots of windows. Maggie thanked the gods for that one.

 
“Any glass broken?” she asked, making the note.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you write it down when you were looking around the room. Or was that all just for show?”

  Dublowski blushed and Maggie had her answer. She shook her head, walked over to the windows and looked out through the broken pane. “The lab rats will check for blood, fabric, anything that might have been left behind. But don’t rely on them. Make your own notes. If you see blood on a window, write it down. Tell the techs where it is.”

  “They’re a little high,” the detective said.

  “So if he didn’t climb through it, he might’ve left some spatter. His or hers. You need to get used to running the pattern, asking the questions. After a while, you’ll know what to skip and what to focus on. For now, you question everything. You note everything,” Maggie said quietly as she sketched the floor plan. “It’s all about paying attention, Detective. Look and think.”

  Dublowski nodded as he looked around the room, imitating Maggie Quinn.

  “You have to shift it around until it makes sense,” Maggie continued quietly, her eyes flitting from the page to the room. “Until you can see it. It’s just like any other problem. If you can see it, you can solve it. So look, think, write it down.”

  Nick wasn’t sure what to write, what to look at. He made some notes about the room. The doors, the windows. A breath slipped out.

  “Start with a floor plan.” Maggie held up her sketch. “Include everything. Then pencil a grid over it. Number each square. When you find something, blood, clothing, anything, note the square it was in. Give it coordinates. Square 12, UL. Upper left. That tells you where in the quadrant the evidence was located.”

  Nick nodded. He noticed Quinn had no grid.

  “Work enough cases and you don’t need the grid anymore.” She took one more look around the room. “Use a page for hunches. Feelings. Anything that strikes you. Did something make you stop? Write it down. Startle you, explain why. Stream of thought. Your brain loves to make connections, so let it.”

  The detective scribbled as Maggie approached the body. “He tried to make her appear natural,” she said, “but something’s not quite right.”

  “What?”

  “The angle of the leg. The position of the arm. It’s a pose. A natural pose, but still a pose. Something else about it. Something… I don’t know.” Familiar, Maggie thought. There was something familiar. “He pulled her shirt open and made his cut. Collar bone to mid abdomen. A lot of blood.” Too much to get a good view of what remained and what had been taken.

  “She was alive when he cut her,” the detective gulped.

  Maggie snapped her gum. “Star on the forehead.” Her eyes traveled across the room to a bloody splat.

  “It’s the same guy.” There was excitement in the young detective’s voice.

  Maggie looked at the man a long second. “Who is this about?”

  The victim. It was about the victim, Dublowski reminded himself. “Sorry.”

  A giggle. From a dark corner a few yards from her. Maggie barely heard it as she stared at the young woman. Something wasn’t right. The face was beaten, but still very recognizable. Not like Phillips. “He didn’t want to beat her.” The thought jumped into Maggie’s mind as pieces tumbled into her notebook.

  “What?”

  “Look at her. There’s something… I don’t know… tentative, restrained.” She bent down and examined the face more closely. “It’s like he didn’t want to do it. His heart wasn’t in it. So why?”

  “Because he’s a nut?”

  Maggie shook her head as she stood. Phillips’ killer was unorganized, out of control. This guy wanted to look out of control. He just didn’t have the stomach for it. Or the experience. No. Her man knew what he was doing. He was no rookie.

  Nick made his own notes as he circled the body. Something was wrong. Quinn hadn’t spoken, hadn’t given him directions for at least two minutes. He was about to make a smart-ass comment, but stopped. Something about the body had her.

  Maggie stared, hands in her pockets, eyes making a succinct pattern back and forth across the scene. After a moment, she stopped and shifted her position, standing at the head of the corpse. Maggie just stared silently. What was it? The angle of the body. The style of the cuts. Something she couldn’t put her finger on… but something familiar. She knelt again near the woman, looking at the body and face.

  “I know you.” Maggie’s voice was whisper. She couldn’t say why, but this was her man. She was sure of it. “Call the office. Get Harley.”

  Nick dialed.

  “The chief’s probably made the call already,” Maggie said. “But don’t assume. Confirm.”

  As he waited for someone to answer, Nick Dublowski watched Quinn follow her pattern, a loose spiral starting at the body and moving out. Her eyes looking at the floor, then around the room, then to the body again. Every few steps she stopped, thought, jotted something down, then continued her pattern.

  Someone finally answered, finally transferred him to the chief. Quinn was right. Harley was on his way. The young man pocketed his cell phone and watched.

  “Are you planning on doing any work?” Maggie said after a few moments. “This is your case, Detective.”

  Giggling. From the shadows in the doorway. Maggie was keenly aware of every grain of sand falling in the small hourglass in the corner of her skull. Her eyes darted to the door. Halverson would be coming in soon. There wasn’t much time.

  “Right here, Detective. This is your best witness,” Maggie said flatly, looking at the body. “Do not let anyone fuck with this scene. That includes your partner. Get him to handle the canvass outside. It shouldn’t be tough.” A few minutes with Maggie in the room and Ray would be running for the door and for a cigarette.

  Before Dublowski could respond, Maggie was stepping back from the body.

  Halverson nearly tripped on his way in. “What the fuck….”

  “Ray,” Maggie smiled, held out her hand.

  “Quinn, shit.” The detective was clearly unnerved. He passed up the handshake. “You can’t be here.” He looked helplessly at Dublowski. “Get her the fuck out! This is a fucking investigation.”

  “I’m consulting. You got a problem with that?” She felt the man’s eyes on her arms. Nonchalantly, Maggie pulled her sleeves back so he could get a really good look. Halverson stared like a guy finally seeing a Yeti.

  “Shit,” Halverson let the word slip from his mouth.

  That should do it, Maggie told herself. He’d have to smoke two, maybe three cigarettes to regain his composure.

  “Hey, Detective Halverson, you want to handle the canvass like before or you want me to do it?”

  “What the fuck, Dublowski,” Ray said as he chomped his toothpick. “Look, you need to clear out, Quinn.”

  “Like I said, I’m consulting. You got a problem, call the chief.”

  Ray’s red face shook. He couldn’t take his eyes off her arms. “Just stay clear, okay. We don’t need you fucking up the evidence.”

  “Like you fucked up Phillips?” Maggie growled.

  Dublowski hoped he never heard a sound like that directed at him. Heat came off each word even though her voice was small. Maggie and Ray just looked at each other. Halverson broke eye contact first.

  “I don’t need this shit,” he said.

  “I can handle it here if you want. Really. Until the evidence techs get here,” the young detective said. “You’re better at the canvass than I am anyway.”

  Dublowski was trying to sound innocent, sincere. Maggie smiled. The kid wasn’t too bad at it.

  “Damn right I’m better,” Halverson growled. He glared at Maggie for a moment, then Nick. “Don’t touch anything. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”
<
br />   Halverson was outside the building with a cigarette in his mouth by the time Maggie got to the window. She pulled her sleeves down. “Let’s get back to work.”

  The dark oozed from the corners, pressing against the door, searching for a path so it could join up with Maggie again. Every few seconds, she flashed the light at the shadows. Dublowski probably thought she was just looking for evidence.

  When he walked in minutes later, Harley didn’t seemed surprised to see Maggie. It was just like old times. As though nothing changed.

  “Hey, baby,” the ME said as he set his cases down.

  “Hey, Harley.” Maggie couldn’t help but smile when she said his name.

  “How you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  The ME hadn’t spoken to Maggie in a long time, too long. He went to the hospital after he heard what she’d done. Harley thought it was a joke at first, something one of the cement-heads in her area might pull. Pass a rumor, make it ugly, see who jumped. Then Tierney confirmed it and Ed Harley was at the hospital. Maggie didn’t speak. Didn’t do anything. She just stared… like one of his bodies. He could stomach just about anything, anything except seeing one of his friends on the block.

  Three guys from the Crime Lab stepped into the room. “And look,” Harley smiled. “I brought my favorite rats.”

  Sterling and Padilla both worked the lab for over ten years. They were seldom paired. The brass liked to split them to make the most of their talents. Obviously, the shirts felt differently this time out. The third man was McLean, photographer. The best they had. Yeah, Tierney was taking no chances on this one.

  “Hey, Maggie,” Randy Padilla said, trying to squeak out a smile.

  “Maggie,” said Howard Sterling. He never smiled.

  “Hi, guys.” She’d worked with both of them on a fair share of cases. And unlike Halverson, they actually looked glad to see her.

  Harley bent down beside the victim. “Hope you didn’t touch anything.”