by Jamie Hill
"Hey Goldilocks! Seein' you here never be good news." Her accent rang out a combination of Jamaican and street slang.
Nate glanced at Mel. Goldilocks? She had some 'splaining to do.
"Hia Shelia," Mel acknowledged. "You're right about that, and today's no exception. Need you to eyeball a photo for me."
"Cops," Shelia shook her head.
The mere utterance of the word sent the two younger girls slinking into the shadows, evidently wanting nothing to do with police.
"It's okay," Shelia called to them. "These be homicide cops. The ones you gots to watch out for be vice cops." She looked at Mel and grinned. "Except that Brady Marshall. He one fine man. That cutie patatootie can shake me down any day of 'da week."
"Ah, Brady." Mel agreed. "Know what you mean. But he's a married man now, Sheila. Has twin baby daughters even. A real family man these days."
"Uh huh." Shelia nodded knowingly. "You tell my Brady if'n he ever needs some time away from that family to be lookin' me up. I give him a special rate."
Mel laughed. "Living dangerously, Shelia. His wife has mob connections you know."
"I'm just sayin'." Shelia shrugged.
Mel handed over a cropped photo of the last victim's face.
As Sheila studied it, Nate murmured, "A cop's wife with mob connections? How does that work?"
Mel chuckled again. "That's a whole 'nother story. I'll tell you about it sometime. You might even meet Brady. He's a good guy."
Shelia handed the photo back. "Never seen her." She sniffed toward the sack in Mel's hand. "What you got?"
"Just came from Fanny's." Mel handed over the bag.
The woman peered inside and for a moment, seemed to savor the fragrant aroma. She pulled out a burger and inhaled it in three bites. The second went down just as quickly. She made a show of licking her fingers then held out her hand for the photo again, and gave it another look.
Nate smiled at Mel's acumen. She knew how to get through to street people. Food was often a good place to start.
"I might'a seen her around. Might'a been with Juicy. You know Juicy, sweetie?"
Mel shook her head.
Sheila pulled out a small flip phone and speed dialed a number. She turned her back to talk.
Mel raised her brows at Nate. "Always surprises me when they have cell phones. I mean, if they can afford that…."
He shrugged. "Sometimes the pimp pays for it. Maybe they're throwaway phones and the user buys minutes. It's actually a pretty good safety feature. Do we know if Rhonda or Donna had phones?"
"We don't." She screwed up her face. "Never even thought to check."
"That's okay. We'll get on it when we get back. See, this is why bouncing ideas off each other is good."
"Bouncing, yeah." She allowed her gaze to travel down the length of his body and back up again. "Good."
Nate had never considered himself a blusher, but he felt his face heat up and knew it was gaining color at that moment. From Mel's satisfied expression, he could surmise that she noticed, and rather enjoyed his discomfort. He turned from her and adjusted his belt. Gonna be a long five days.
Sheila ended her call and faced them. "She be here in a minute. Right 'round 'da corner."
"Thanks." Mel smiled at her. The most beautiful smile Nate had ever seen on anyone. Sweet, sincere, even in these less than perfect circumstances. Beautiful.
He shook his head to clear it, and spotted a red-headed woman rounding the nearest corner. She approached with a wary expression on her face. He studied her. Forty-something with skin that looked years older; this one either smoked or drank heavily. He could tell by the dull color of her complexion, even through the thick layer of pancake.
"Juicy! Get oba here." Sheila shoved the last of the cheeseburgers in her mouth and tossed the sack into the waste bin near the old-fashioned lamp post next to her.
"What's up?" Juicy eyed Mel and Nate suspiciously.
"These be homicide in-vest-a-ga-tors," Sheila pronounced the word haughtily. "Have a pitcher to show you. Another dead girl."
Juicy scowled. "No, not another one."
"I'm sorry." Mel said softly. "I'm Detective Curtis and this is Agent Willis. If you wouldn't mind just having a look at the photo. This woman has family and friends somewhere. I'd really like to find out her name."
The woman seemed to screw up her courage before nodding.
Mel handed over the photo.
Juicy looked quickly then handed it back. Her face belied no expression when she asked, "Got any gum? I like Juicy Fruit."
Mel nodded and shot Nate a look. "No Juicy Fruit, but we have Double Mint. We have some cheeseburgers from Fanny's too, if you're hungry."
Juicy gazed at her with dull eyes.
Nate understood the look. Duh. Street people were always hungry. "I'll get them," he offered, and hurried to the Murano. He grabbed the food and gum, and took them back to Juicy.
She grabbed with both hands and began eating, at the same time offering a small, "Thanks."
"Sure." Mel smiled again and waited for Juicy's timeframe.
The second burger went down more frantically, and it was then that Nate could tell Juicy knew their victim. Her eyes welled up but she tried hard to fight the emotion. After she'd polished off three burgers, she wrapped the others up and popped a stick of gum in her mouth. "Her name is Linda. Was Linda."
"Do you know her last name?" Mel prodded gently.
Juicy shook her head. "She stayed at Sister Catherine's shelter a couple blocks over." She nodded behind her. "The sister should know her name. Her and Linda were friendly. Anything she owned, you'll prolly find it there."
"Sister Catherine's," Mel repeated. "Did you see Linda yesterday? Notice anyone she was with?"
"We was together until about three. Then I went to have my hair done. Never saw her again after that."
Nate wondered what she had 'done' to the straggly mop of hair, but didn't voice his thoughts out loud. Instead, he asked, "Has anyone new been hanging around lately? A vehicle you might remember? A different man that caught your attention?"
Both of them shook their heads.
"So you don't have anything on him yet?" Juicy motioned toward the picture of Linda. "The guy who did that. No idea who he is?"
"Not yet," Mel admitted. "But we're working very hard on it. The case is the number one priority for my team."
Juicy scoffed. "We ain't a priority for nobody. Who cares if a few hookers disappear? People prolly think the guy's doing the city a favor."
Nate's gut churned and he took a step forward. "We don't think that. We're going to find the son-of-a-bitch who did that to Linda and the others, and make him pay. I promise you that. I guarantee it."
Mel glanced at him, a look of surprise in her eyes.
He went on, "But the two of you need to face a hard fact. This guy isn't singling out the teeny boppers that were here when we pulled up. He's going after, shall we say, more mature women. Think about it for a minute. All three of the victims have been your ages. Might be a good time for you to find a new line of work."
That idea met with blank stares. "At least take a break from it," he suggested.
Shelia chuckled. "Pipe dreamin', my man."
Frustration welled in his chest. "Then you both need to be extra careful out here. Stay in pairs if you can. Watch each other's backs."
"Guys 'round here don't want to pay for no two-fers. No way we be staying together, it just ain't happening. "
"Make him think it's happening," Nate snapped. "Use the buddy system as long as you can. When one of you has to leave, the other one should notice the man you're going with. Remember his car. Look him in the eye." He pointed two fingers at himself then turned them on Sheila in an 'I'm watching you' manner.
"Yeah, right." Juicy snorted and looked at Sheila. "Let him know you remember his face, so after he kills me he can come back for you."
They erupted in laughter.
Nate shook his head and took a st
ep away. This conversation is going nowhere. "You ready?" he asked Mel.
"Yeah." She tucked a business card into each woman's hand. "If you think of anything, or need anything, call me. I'll do whatever I can."
"You send that hansum Brady Marshall back ova to see me?" Sheila grinned, her gold tooth sparkling in the sunlight.
"I'll mention you asked about him." Mel chuckled, glancing over her shoulder as she walked to her car.
Nate climbed in and buckled his seatbelt. He held in his frustration until she'd pulled away from the curb, then it came bubbling out. "Damn it! It's like a joke to them. Maybe we shouldn't have cropped that picture so nicely. Let them see the slash marks across Linda's neck. Let them see the all the blood."
"Maybe." Mel nodded. "I know it's aggravating, but you can't take this so personally. Those women make their own choices every day. You warned them. It's up to them what they choose to do with your information."
"I'm not taking it personally." His voice sounded petulant, even to his own ears. "I'm simply passionate about what I do."
She glanced at Nate sideways and smiled. "I'll remember that. Sister Catherine's should be just a ways up here." Mel turned onto the next side street and began studying building fronts. She pulled over in front of what appeared to be a shelter and stopped. "Pretty sure this is it." She punched a few buttons on her smartphone and nodded. "Yep, this is it."
Nate unbuckled and got out. They walked side by side to the front door, and Mel rang the bell.
A small, blonde-haired girl threw the door open and stared up at them.
"Hi," Mel offered.
The child just stared.
"Is Sister Catherine here?" Mel asked.
She turned her wide-eyed scrutiny on Nate.
"I love kids," he muttered through his teeth-gritting smile.
"Me too," Mel added. "Isn't she precious?"
"I was being sarcastic," he explained.
"I could tell that," Mel said in a sing-song voice. She leaned forward and got nose to nose with the girl. "You could tell that too, couldn't you sweetheart? Is your mommy here? Is the nice lady who runs the place in there?"
The girl stepped back and closed the door in Mel's face.
Mel straightened and exhaled upwards, the breeze ruffling her hair. "Okay, so we try this again." She pressed the doorbell a second time.
It was answered immediately by a petite woman sporting a closely cropped haircut, wearing jeans and a tank top. "Help you?" she asked pleasantly.
"We were looking for Sister Catherine," Mel replied
"You found her." The woman wiped her hands on a rag. "You'll have to excuse me, we're painting one of the bedrooms."
Nate blinked. She didn't look like any nun he'd ever known. The ones from his short stint in Catholic school probably didn't own jeans and wouldn't be caught dead in skimpy tops. He could visualize them painting a room, still wearing their long black habits with crisp white wimples surrounding their faces.
"No problem." Mel flashed her badge. "I'm Detective Curtis with the WPD, and this is Agent Willis. We're hoping you can help us identify a woman from a photo we have."
"Not Linda!" Sister Catherine clutched the door frame for support.
"Linda?" Mel asked.
She nodded. "Linda Mains. She never came home last night. That's not something she'd do. I've been worried sick all day."
"Are you willing to look at a photo of our victim?" Mel held it upside down. "It's not pleasant."
"Yes, please! I have to know."
Mel turned the photo over and the nun tightened her grasp on the jamb, sobbing. "No! Linda, no!"
"I'm so sorry." Mel clutched the woman's arm. "Can we help you inside?"
"No." The sister heaved a few more deep breaths then attempted to compose herself. "I'd rather not bring this into the house. We've got children staying here."
"I know." Mel smiled. "Cute little blonde thing answered the door."
"Sandy!" She scowled. "Doesn't know a stranger. I'm going to have to talk to her about that."
Mel shrugged. "She wouldn't let us in."
Sister Catherine wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "That's something I guess." She glanced around the still neighborhood. "It's a different world out there now. If someone like Linda wasn't safe…."
Nate had to speak up. "You know what Linda did for money, don't you?"
"Of course I know," the woman snapped. "I'd just about gotten her talked into applying for a secretarial job I'd heard about. We even found a nice, used dress for her interview. But Linda wasn't quite ready. Her husband used to beat the crap out of her, you know. She had zero self-esteem left."
"We didn't know," Mel replied. "But we'd like to. It would really help us to hear anything at all you can remember about Linda. We need to see her things."
The nun glanced over her shoulder at two children racing down the hall.
"We'll keep it low key. They don't even need to know we're cops, if you prefer that."
Sister Catherine chuckled bitterly. "These people will know you're cops, you can believe that." She inspected Nate. "Not you, in your fancy black suit. You're something different. Agent, did she say? Are you FBI?"
He peeled off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing. You of all people should realize that I'm one of the good guys. The more we can learn about our victims, the sooner we can get the killer off the street."
With some reluctance, she stepped aside so they could enter the house. As Nate passed her she muttered, "Then pretty soon, another killer shows up. Maybe you'll catch him too. But none of this is going to help Linda, is it?"
"It won't bring her back," he conceded. "But to honor her memory, don't we at least have to try?"
"Yes, we do," the sister agreed. She inhaled and let out a slow, shuddering breath. "Thank you. Please, come this way."
He followed her down the hall, pausing only for a moment when Mel squeezed his hand.
* * * *
Nate glanced at his watch as they entered the homicide department bullpen later that afternoon. Almost four-thirty. They'd spent a couple of hours at the shelter looking through Linda's things, before Mel started playing with two of the children. The sister had enlisted his help moving two large pieces of furniture before they left. He didn't mind, as far as he could tell there were only women and children staying there. By the time they left, the residents and Sister Catherine were pleasant and joking with them.
As he followed Mel into the war room, the thought crossed his mind that he'd been trailing her for a good portion of the day and it was actually a pretty nice position to be in. She wasn't bone skinny like most of the women they'd interviewed. Mel had curves in all the right places and standing behind her had its definite good points.
She tacked the picture of Linda up by the others and looked at the white board where Stone had written in bold print Linda Mains.
He joined them in the small room. "I've done as much digging on her as I could since you texted me. Haven't come up with much. Captain gave us Sam to help out. She's been running similarities on the three cases all afternoon."
"Good." Mel nodded and looked at Nate. "Samantha Becker is one of our newer detectives but she's a hard worker and gets things done."
"Fine.I've been feeding info to the FBI technical analysts too. They'll let us know if they get anything."
"Sister Catherine know much?" Stone looked from Mel to Nate.
Mel shrugged. "She was as close to Linda as anyone the past few weeks, yet she really didn't know anything about where the woman went every day. I guess Linda wasn't the kiss and tell type."
"Not to a nun, anyway," Stone mused.
They spent the next hour filling each other in on the afternoon's events. Linda's story of spousal abuse and the methods she chose to overcome it was a dark and gritty tale. Nate was so engrossed in the details he jumped when a tall, dark-haired man stuck his head in the room.
"Quitting tim
e, kiddos. We're all going to Morgan's for some beer and anything-but-shop talk." The man focused on Nate. "You're invited too, of course. Won't kill anyone to drink with the feds for one night."
Nate waggled his brows. "It might."
Everyone chuckled and Mel said, "Thanks for the invite Tanner, but I don't think so. This case is pretty heavy. Not sure I'm in the mood for Morgan's."
"Buzz kill," Tanner made a face at Mel. "It's Friday night. Time to relax and unwind, put all this nastiness behind you. Besides, you know Cappie's expecting you. See you there." He walked out.
Mel groaned and rolled her head from side to side, stretching her neck. "Tanner's in administration. They don't have to work Saturdays."
"Nope," Stone agreed. "Paper clip counting can wait until Monday. But a beer sounds pretty good, Mel. What do you say, Agent Willis?"
"I say you're supposed to be calling me Nate, and who's this Cappie that's expecting you? Boyfriend?"
Stone opened his mouth but Mel answered first. "Good grief, no. He's the bartender there. He's like, what, sixty?" She shot a dirty look at Stone.
Stone shrugged and nodded, but didn't speak.
Nate didn't understand the looks passing between them, but he definitely wanted to know more. "I'm up for a beer. They have food there?"
"Good food," Stone replied enthusiastically.
Nate looked at Mel.
"The food is really good. The place will be crawling with cops, is all. If you really want to go, I guess I could grab a beer and a bite to eat."
A perky brunette with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, much like Mel's, joined them. "Where are we going?" she asked in a high pitched voice. She glanced at Nate and did a double take. "Hello, you must be SSA Willis. I'm Samantha Becker." She offered her hand and they shook.
She was tiny, small-boned, but very pretty. Nate tried not to squeeze too firmly, her hand seemed like it could be crushed by his firm grip. He had several inches on her height-wise, as well. "Pleasure to meet you." He smiled warmly.
Stone moved in closer to her and grinned. "I like working with Sam." Standing next to her made him appear taller.