Jessie’s stomach coiled. She tasted bile in the back of her throat and inhaled deeply to avoid losing the coffee she’d had earlier. She turned her eyes away, unable to continue to listen to the flies gnaw away on the victim. “What a disgusting sight.” She shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
“What do you know, Jackson?” Zach asked.
“As you can see, we have a few witnesses, although they claim they only saw shadows, and one couple fell over top of the body.” He flashed his light in their direction. “And we have a vehicle hung up on the cast iron rail of Bow Bridge.”
Jessie remembered that bridge very well. That’s where she and Harwell had been when he’d announced he was getting married to his pregnant one-night stand. She dismissed the thought from her mind.
Zach squatted down and examined the wound more closely. The flies took off with a vengeance, but not before he was able to secure one in a plastic bag. The investigator’s camera shutter clicked as he snapped photos of the dead body.
“Has the ME been called?” he asked Jackson.
“Yes. Clara’s been delayed with another murder across town.” He no sooner finished his sentence, than the medical examiner arrived carrying her large kit. Clara was a tough no-nonsense examiner who’d been trained in the military. She knelt down and went to work. “I’ll take it from here, Detectives,” she said.
Zach backed off, but stayed close while she investigated the evidence. The detectives held their flashlights for her to see. “I don’t think he’s been here very long. Look at his skin. It’s purple and waxy looking.” She checked the victim’s fingernails. “His nails are almost white.” She looked up at the investigator. “Did you get all the pictures you need for the initial scene?”
“I did. Thanks.”
Clara flipped the body over. Jessie was the first to recognize him. “Oh man,” she said with disgust. “That’s Lenny Scerbo,” she mumbled under her breath, Clara apparently catching the look on her face.
“You know this guy?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’s done some work for us from time to time.”
“Well, he apparently pissed somebody off. This wound isn’t the work of someone mildly annoyed.”
“What’s your best guess at time of death, Clara,” Zach asked.
“Stop back and see me later. Without doing a thorough investigation though, I’d say a few hours, tops. But don’t hold me to that.”
The police helicopter had arrived and hovered over the area lighting the way for the investigation being pursued by the team. The loud whop, whop sound from the rotor blades echoed in the silence. Bolted to the belly of the chopper was a pair of NightSun lights, casting a brilliant glow over the crime scene for the investigators and evidence technicians who were busy combing the area.
“Let’s question the witnesses,” Zach said, and headed over toward them. “This is such a beautiful park,” he said along the way, “it really pisses me off to have so many damn creeps messing with my city.”
Jackson had already marked the perimeter with yellow tape and was acting as gatekeeper, allowing no one to enter or leave unless authorized by the detectives.
“Given that it’s an election year,” Zach continued, “I wonder how many asshole politicians will try to edge their way in here just so the media can take their picture and show the public how devoted they are.”
Jessie chuckled. “Yeah. I hear ya.” The thought of losing another Confidential Informant made her mouth curl in disappointment. “Dammit,” she said in a low voice, “another CI. What’s going on here?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Hey,” Zach answered, “that’s all part of the deal, Jess.” He shrugged. “What are you going to do? There’s always Tony Ricci.”
“Yeah, but we asked Lenny to take the job at the chop shop because he was the more reliable of the two.”
Zach shrugged. “It works if Tony gives us a lead to a mole in the department, and the real name of this Sonny guy who owns the chop shop.” He looked back at the body. “So you want to call it, Jessie.”
“Jealous husband, or he was made.”
“Could be,” he shrugged. “But you tell me. You saw the woman. Do you think they were involved with one another? He was a widower.”
“We’ve seen stranger things, but I can’t imagine Lenny and this woman—at least, I don’t think so. What little I saw of her body though told me she took good care of herself. Her body was toned like a runner, her nails looked freshly manicured, and judging from the size of the rock on her finger, I’d say she has money—lots of it. Two entirely different type people. Good lord, he’s in his fifties. What the hell would a pretty little thing like that be doing with an overweight, filthy man like him?”
“Maybe he’s her father,” Zach countered.
Jessie’s mouth twisted into a sour look. “If they were romantically involved . . . Eww, thanks for the image.” A fleeting image of the scenario rushed through her mind causing her to shudder. In all the time she’d been on the force, a scene like this was far from an ordinary occurrence, but then, all of them were. She shook her head, “Either way, I just can’t imagine the woman getting involved with a man like him.”
They crossed over the path on their way to see Jackson and the witnesses. Gerard glanced over to the sidelines at a couple wrapped in a blanket. “Are these our witnesses?”
Jackson nodded in the affirmative. “That would be them.”
“Are they cold?” Jessie asked. “Is that why they’re wrapped up in a blanket?” she pointed.
“Ah, no. They’re naked.” Jackson chuckled.
“Swell,” Jessie grumbled. “I guess I blocked that bit of information from my mind not wanting to believe it.” She sighed. “Just freakin’ swell.”
“Did they touch anything?” Zach asked.
Jackson raised his palms in the air, and then slapped them against his thighs. “They both fell on this poor guy’s body.” He smirked.
Zach watched his partner’s reaction and grinned.
“Take your pick, Gerard, which one do you want to question?”
He headed toward the woman and she wasn’t surprised.
2
Lieutenant Jack Harwell pulled into Central Park, eased his vehicle to the side of the road and stepped out into the hot humid air that lingered above his head like a water balloon ready to burst.
The screeching sound of a siren wailed past him en route to the hospital. He glanced at the usual lineup of vehicles on the side of the road, and bent over to duck under the barrier tape. He stopped and surveyed the scene still being combed for evidence by his team of investigators. The sound of the police helicopter’s engine drew his attention as it hovered above. The breeze from the blades caused a spray of green leaves to sail to the ground like confetti from a ticker tape parade.
He smiled when he saw the NightSun lights, their brightness resembling daylight. A sense of satisfaction washed over him from the progress he’d made since coming to the two-one precinct as a lieutenant. He’d managed to wade his way through the bureaucracy and obtain updated equipment.
On his way over to where his detectives stood, Harwell stopped to speak to an evidence technician who was measuring skid marks near the scene. The officer looked up when Harwell approached.
“What do we have here?” Harwell asked.
“A suspicious set of skid marks that don’t match the vehicle involved in the accident.”
“How many vehicles were involved?”
“Unless there’s another in the water, this is it, Lieutenant. It looks like the car was definitely pushed from behind into this ravine.”
“Who found the bodies?”
“That young couple being interviewed by Detectives Kensington and Gerard were the ones to find the dead male; the first officers on the scene discovered the woman.” Harwell noted the biker huffing as he waited his turn to be questioned. “And the biker? What’s up with him?”
“Beats me, Lieuten
ant.”
“Okay, make sure you get a good mold of those marks for the lab, son,” he said to him.
“Yes, sir.”
Harwell stood upright and continued toward the wrecked car. When he reached the vehicle, he looked over at his detectives who were still questioning the witnesses.
The vehicle, a 1997 Volvo station wagon, whose hood was jammed up against the bottom of the bridge, was nestled in mud covering the wheels. Harwell made his way closer to the wreck so he could get a visual of the damage. The windshield, the side window on the driver’s side and the rear window were completely shattered out.
Detective Gerard noticed his boss and left the witnesses with Jessie and another officer who was handing the male witness another blanket.
“What the hell is that all about?” Harwell asked.
“They were getting it on when they stumbled . . . or I should say . . . fell on the body,” he grinned.
“And what happened to their clothing?” Harwell’s eyebrows rose in a questionable frown, “where the hell is that?”
“At the hotel,” Zach smiled.
“You know, these idiots never cease to amaze me,” he said shaking his head, “just when you think you’ve seen it all, something like this happens.” Harwell cleared his throat. “What else do you have for me?”
“We don’t have a clear picture yet, but we have two victims, one female, who’s still alive, badly bruised and on her way to the hospital. She had no ID on her so we have no clue as to her identity. The corpse is a dead Lenny Scerbo, his skull ripped apart, fifty feet from the car we believe was driven by the female. Clara estimates Lenny’s been dead a few hours, but she won’t confirm it until she’s finished examining the body. That means the accident, if the two are related, took place in the wee hours this morning.”
“As for Lenny,” Harwell said, “it was only a matter of time. Maybe someone from the chop shop found out he was working for us.”
“That was Jessie’s first thought, too.” Zach nodded his head to the side, motioning for the Lieutenant to move closer to the vehicle.
“Where are the license plates?” the lieutenant asked.
“No plates and no registration in the glove compartment?”
“Nothing. Jackson is following up on the VIN and registration.”
“Lenny wasn’t driving the vehicle?” Harwell asked.
“Not according to Paige. He said he lifted three sets of prints, but two were smudged. As I said, all indications point to the woman as being the driver because the smaller prints were the most prominent. Who knows if we’ll get anything from the smudged prints? Unless we can get a portion of those smudged prints to match Lenny’s, then he wasn’t in that car.”
“Then how the hell did he get here?”
“Another car, I suspect. One of the technicians was taking a mold of some tire tracks.”
“Yeah, I spoke to him on my way over to the scene,” Harwell said.
Detective Gerard walked over to the broken window on the passenger’s side of the vehicle. “Fortunately for the driver, the airbag deployed. That’s what saved her life. Earlier, I found a piece of bloody flesh, and some bloody fabric on the jagged edge of this window, so I’m assuming this is how she escaped. The fabric had little flowers on it.”
“You mean a paisley print.” Detective Kensington said when she joined them.
“Yeah, whatever,” Gerard said.
She released a humorous chuckle. “Hi, Lieutenant.”
“You look like shit, Kensington,” Harwell said, the deep frown lines creasing his forehead. “Aren’t you getting any sleep?”
“It’s good to see you too, Lieutenant.”
A flatbed truck pulled up near the vehicle. The driver, a stocky man wearing an NYPD baseball cap, and a cigar hanging out from the corner of his mouth, jumped down from the cab and walked to where they stood talking.
“Phew, Lieutenant,” Zach said pretending to rub his brows, “I think we’ve just been saved by this man from Jessie’s wrath.” He winked.
“Very funny, Gerard,” she said, twisting her mouth to the side. She gave a toss of her hand and walked back to interview the cyclist.
The driver interrupted their conversation. “Is this vehicle ready for transport?”
“Yes, sir.”
He handed them a receipt for the vehicle, returned to his truck and backed it up as close as possible, hooked the cable to the under carriage and pulled the damaged car onto the tray. Harwell and Gerard moved over to the side and waved as he drove away from the scene.
“You know, Lieutenant,” Zach said, “I can’t imagine Lenny’s connection to the woman. Like I said, I’m thinking these are two unrelated incidents. Hopefully, our Jane Doe can shed some light on this when she regains consciousness.” He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s clear the vehicle was hit multiple times from the rear . . . and it looks like whoever was pushing her vehicle gave an extra shove for good measure to make sure the vehicle rammed the bridge. I’d bet money on it; whoever did this thinks the woman is dead.”
“Well, let’s hope that he comes back to check.”
Zach nodded. “From the location of the dents, I’d say the ‘mystery vehicle’ is an SUV or a Hummer.” A muscle flickered in Harwell’s jaw. He seemed preoccupied and not listening to the detective.
“Lieutenant?” Zach stared at him, waiting for a response.
“No purse on this woman, huh?” Harwell asked while he scanned the ground with his eyes.
“What are you looking for, Lieutenant?”
“Thought I might find something.”
Zach shook his head. “I can assure you, Lieutenant. We’ve combed every inch of this crime scene.”
“I have no doubt, Gerard. Just checking, that’s all.”
Zach cleared his throat, slightly amused, slightly annoyed by his superior second-guessing him.
Harwell grinned. “Listen Gerard, if you miss something, it’s my ass that’s in the sling, and if mine is in the sling, so is yours.”
“Have I let you down since you’re here?” Zach asked.
“Not so far.” Harwell’s eyebrows rose. “But there’s always a first time? So is that all you’ve got for me?”
“Other than a VIN number, that’s it. We have divers on the way to drag the lake just in case something fell in the river. Maybe her purse flew out of the car and sunk to the bottom.” He twisted his face into a bewildered frown, brushing off his boss’s scrutiny. “I can’t imagine any woman going out of the house without a purse, especially one who’s driving a vehicle.”
“A woman being chased wouldn’t stop for her purse,” Harwell said, removing his cap and running his hand over top of his closely cropped hair. “All she wants to do is get the hell away.”
“True,” Zach said. “Jess spoke briefly with the victim before the paramedics left for the hospital. She said the woman seemed confused.” Zach relayed the conversation Jess had with the woman. Detective Kensington also noticed a huge rock on the woman’s hand.” He snickered. “She said it told her the woman was affluent, because the stone was the size of the Empire State Building.”
“Hmm, well, hell, that makes it easier.” Harwell joked. “That only leaves us with about half the population of the city who are loaded.”
“By the way,” Gerard said, “I hear Bradshaw’s already over at Lenox Hill Hospital. Can you call and have him look in on Jane Doe until we get over there?”
“Sure.” Harwell started to walk away, but stopped. “Who did you say was checking on the VIN?”
“Jackson.”
“And he was first on the scene?” The muscles in Harwell’s jaw flicked again.
“Yes, sir.”
“Swell.” Harwell blew out a steady stream of air. “I wonder if another member of his team will screw this up like the last one.”
“Lieutenant, you can’t judge all his guys based on that one schmuck who got caught screwing a prostitute while on duty.
Besides, Internal Affairs expelled him. I think that was a loud message to the rest of the troops. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. But some people never learn. I just know Jackson tampered with that evidence. I just need to find a way to prove it.” The lieutenant gave a nonchalant wave to Zach and continued toward the path, “You know where I’ll be.”
“What’d you get when you ran the VIN?” Harwell asked Jackson.
“It came back to a guy by the name of John Graham.”
“Her husband, maybe?”
“We’re checking that out now.”
“Okay, keep me posted. I want to know the minute you have something.” Harwell headed toward the Medical Examiner until he heard the Sergeant calling out to him. He turned around to see Jackson on his cell phone. He motioned for Harwell to join him.
“Lieutenant,” Jackson said, “my guys met with Graham, and he’s not married. Graham said he was dropping his date off, left his car double-parked with the engine running, and the woman ran down the street and jumped into his car.”
“He left the engine running?” Harwell screeched. “Where did he leave his car double-parked?”
“West 87th.”
“Oh, so I guess this bonehead figured high class area, no one would take his car.” Harwell looked bewildered. “Doesn’t he know that’s where the muggers and burglars go first?”
“I guess not, Lieutenant. It is pretty hard to believe though, isn’t it?” Jackson removed his cap and rubbed the sweat from his forehead with his arm.
“Asshole.” Harwell said with belligerence. “What I want to know is how he got through the city without plates on the car.” Harwell shook his head. “Where were our guys while Graham was driving around without plates?” He scuffed a hand over his face. “And how long has he been driving the car that way?”
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