Chapter 1.
Spence and Stella both seem to start the new working week in excellent mood, the jovial chatter on their way downstairs revolving around respective well-spent weekends. It only lasts until they reach the basement headquarters of the CCU. The usual gloomy atmosphere of the place isn't the only reason for such impact on this Monday morning.
''What the hell's happened here!?'' Spence exclaims right on the squad room doorstep, catching a glimpse of their evidence board. ''Where are all the notes I wrote last thing Friday evening?''
Grace is already there, so the questioning eyes of the younger colleagues turn to her.
She gives them a confused smile and shrugs. ''Don't look at me, I'm in total darkness as well. I only just got here,'' she explains, peeling the long luxurious scarf off her shoulders and staring the board with equal astonishment.
Stella takes a step closer to examine the unfamiliar photos and names with curiosity.
''Looks like Boyd's taken a new case,'' she points out the already obvious.
''Just marvellous!'' Spence's reaction is full of unconcealed sarcasm. He lands on the nearest chair, throws a quick glance in the direction of Boyd's office – the blinders are shut and the door firmly closed - hard to tell whether the occupant is present or not – and to be on the safe side continues expressing his discontent in hushed voice.
''As if we weren't up to our ears in work already!'', he complains, gloomily indicating the heaps of files on his desk. ''Feels like he's got some hidden agenda for picking out all the most hopeless cases everybody else has given up on ages ago. And naturally nothing can go back on the shelf on some stupid principle! These ancient Remington murders were to top everything – weeks of digging through the dusty files and countless interviews with all the bloody nursing home candidates who wouldn't remember any details 30 years later even if they had killed anyone themselves... Last week things finally started to make at least some sense... and now,'' he shakes his head in disbelief, ''now he decides to drop it just like that...''
The door of Boyd's office flings open so suddenly, they all nearly jump.
''We're not going to drop anything,'' the familiar loud baritone echoes over the squad-room, ''we will most certainly return to the Remington murders as soon as possible. Right now we've got something much more urgent to deal with.''
Their boss looks his usual impressive and well-groomed self - flawlessly trimmed goatee beard, expensive grey tailor suit, the glasses on his nose just add a touch of respectability. Though he seems to be seething with energy at first sight, Grace registers the tell-tale dark shadows under his eyes - clear evidence of yet another sleepless night behind office desk.
''That much we've got to start with - get yourselves acquainted!'' An impressive stack of files Boyd's carrying lands straight in the middle of Spence's desk. ''As soon as Eve's ready, we'll have a team-meeting.''
He marches purposefully out of the squad-room, heading to the lab to urge on poor Eve apparently.
''How the hell did he hear me?'' Spence sounds truly perplexed. ''The door was shut... Is he able to hear through walls now, or what?''
''Considering how many nights he spends here plus all that sitting behind closed blinders most of the day-time as well - he's probably developed night vision too,'' Stella offers, chuckling.
''The habit of bloodsucking is not in the very distant future either, he sure knows how to drain all life out of me already,'' Spence grumbles, eyeing Boyd's generous addition to his already over-burdened desk with resentment.
His grim prediction only increases Stella's amusement.
''You know what this new case and extraordinary team-meeting mean - '', Spence continues his rant, ''no time for lunch break once again. Well, I'm not going to risk getting ulcers because of him, I'll go for a pizza right away. If Boyd's back before me, tell him I had to finish something urgent regarding the Remington case.''
''OK, I'll cover you!'', Stella promises, blinking slyly.
This little impertinent conspiracy of younger colleagues makes Grace smirk. Deep inside she is worried, having watched Boyd's recent tendency of prolonging his working hours to equal his waking hours with growing concern. And the possible acquirement of any supernatural powers is not what she's afraid of. Months after Luke's funeral Boyd seemed to be coping relatively well with his loss. In his habitual way though - without accepting any support nor sharing his emotional burden with anyone. But to her relief he apparently reached some state of balance and acceptance on his own, the hardest phase hopefully overcome. And now such an unexpected relapse into solitary brooding and skipping meals. Plus the very characteristic desperate attempt to bury himself completely in work. She may not be aware of the exact cause, but knows the man long enough to recognize that to be his usual way of putting off dealing with something he's not comfortable with. Unfortunately all her efforts to discover the source of his distress proved futile so far, Boyd being more reticent and unapproachable than ever before, deliberately eluding any chance of heart-to-heart conversation.
Boyd returns with Eve half an hour later, unquestionably expecting to find earnest working atmosphere in the squad-room, not a frolicsome bunch enjoying their improvised feast. Before he can express his annoyance with the intervening circumstances in the habitual loud way, Grace quickly saves the situation with a witty remark that full stomach might help to stimulate their brain-work. Boyd's reaction is confined to disgruntled mutter and very contemptuous look. He bluntly refuses all whole-hearted offers to join in, obviously determined to make a clear point of his disapproval. Eve on the other hand doesn't need asking twice.
Giving his disobedient crew one more withering look, Boyd demonstratively turns his back to them, crosses his arms and concentrates his attention on the evidence board.
A picture of a smiling blonde blue-eyed boy. Right under it another photo of the same child, but on that one his face is pale and lifeless, light curls covered with dried blood.
5 years ago the body of little Brandon Ellis was left on a park bench, his scull smashed with some blunt object. The drug-addicted mother couldn't give very reliable information about the exact time and circumstances of the boy's disappearance. She had a history of 'forgetting' her child under the care of some relative or friend for lengthy periods and therefore wasn't always aware of Brandon's whereabouts. So it was quite possible that the boy had been missing for a while already.
The dead child was carefully wrapped in a blood-stained blanket. Forensic analyses revealed that besides the victim's blood there were also several blood drops carrying the DNA of unknown male. That gave the original investigating team something to hold on to. Unfortunately none of their potential suspects matched the DNA profile. Weeks, then months passed without any substantial breakthrough. The initial outrageous media circus around the case subsided gradually. The boy's single mother apparently wasn't too eager to demand the continuation of the search for her child's murderer either, having been on the verge of loosing custody due to her drug problems anyway. Finally the case materials ended up in a cardboard box on the archives shelf.
The reason he put the slightly faded reminder of this kid in the middle of their evidence board last night was the hideous discovery made on late Friday afternoon, right before the end of the working week. Construction workers renovating a house in a respectable residential area took down an old shed in the backyard and unearthed a little body under the floorboards. The dead child in the shallow grave had fractured skull and was carefully wrapped in a blanket. The initial DNA analyses confirmed that the remains belonged to Jakob Starek, coming from a problematic family of Polish immigrants. 3 years ago Jakob, aged 5 at that time, was about to go into foster care for the time his mother served a prison sentence for thefts. The boy's father was also wanted by the police for multiple offences, but managed to leave the country, supposedly taking his son with him. But as long as there was no full clarity in the matter, little Jakob was listed as a missing person, his exact fate unknown until the grim discovery. Further tests provided the connecting link – some blood traces on Jakob Starek's blanket proved to match identically the DNA evidence from Brandon Ellis' unsolved case.
Last night, after thorough research, he added one more photo of a kid, who judging by the looks could easily be mistaken for the brother of the other two. Marc Carlisle had been under careful scrutiny of the Social Services since he was born, his teenage mother not quite coping with the clearly undesired responsibilities of parenthood. Obviously that wasn't enough to spare the kid from evil fate. 10 months ago, a couple of days after his 5th birthday he disappeared without a trace from a public playground near his home. Speculations, rumours and an abundance of different versions - some plausible, some rather preposterous. But no conclusive answers so far.
Three little blonde angels side by side on the board.
Boyd takes the yellow marker and strikes a firm line between the photos, separating the dead from the one who could still have hope, no matter how frail.
He casts a look over his shoulder and confirmed that the food supplies have decreased considerably, demands impatiently:
''Can we start now? I do hope that everybody has some basic idea about what we're dealing with, so I don't have to repeat everything concerning Brandon Ellis all over again. Let's concentrate on the new victim. You're ready, Eve?''
Eve takes a quick sip of coffee to wash down the last mouthful of pizza and gives her detailed report on autopsy results.
''Same murder weapon on both cases?'' Spence wants to specify.
''No, I don't think so. But the MO is very similar still– multiple blows to the head region, by far more than necessary to cause death actually. Literally battered to death.''
''... impulsive behaviour, hardly premeditated. The killer most likely acts in a state of uncontrollable rage, just grabs the nearest suitable object and starts banging...'' Grace joins in.
''And who could possibly do something like that to a 5-year-old child? Ideas anyone!?'' Boyd's question is clearly directed to Stella, who's been twiddling with a pencil in a rather absent-minded way, without partaking the discussion so far.
''A paedophile,'' Stella blurts out the first thing that comes to her head. ''The child is not cooperative, starts screaming, hence the danger of being discovered, the killer panics and...''
''That's the stereotype approach the initial investigating team so obstinately clung to,'' Boyd frowns, unsatisfied with such meagre contribution, ''and got nowhere. Besides there was no evidence directly proving any kind of sexual abuse in case of the first victim. The same with Jakob Starek, am I right, Eve?''
''Can't say anything conclusive, considering how long the body has been...'' Eve starts.
''Just give us your opinion,'' Boyd interrupts her.
''My personal opinion doesn't have much weight in court.''
''But you've had victims of sexual violence on your table before, haven't you?''
''I have. Unfortunately.'' she admits gloomily.
''So...? ''
''Well... their injuries aren't typical to sexual violence, no traces of semen on either of the victims nor blankets, both boys fully clad, clothes intact... Yes, probably not the first and only theory to consider, I would say.''
''Enough reason for us to be more open-minded instead of just laying all the blame on some pervert snooping around playgrounds, right!?'' Boyd concludes triumphantly.
''Do we know the approximate time of Jakob Starek's death already?'' Spence wants to know.
''I need to run some further tests to be more accurate, but it's already safe to say that while Brandon Ellis was killed within weeks after presumable abduction, the Polish boy must have survived considerably longer. I'd offer several months, possibly up to a year even. And he was taken proper care of, definitely not suffering from malnutrition. There is one more significant thing: just like Brandon Ellis, Jakob was wearing expensive brand clothes and the model car that was in his trouser pocket - that's no cheap plastic toy either. Considering their background, their own families couldn't have afforded anything like that.''
''So who are we dealing with then – some kind of benefactor picks out kids from lousy homes, takes good care of them, spends a lot of money buying them fancy stuff... Sounds like a would-be saint, don't you think? And then what... ?'', Boyd proceeds pensively, ''What goes so wrong that the boys end up with smashed skulls?''
''Maybe the person who looks after the kid isn't the one that kills him,'' Stella makes a simple, but logical offer.
''The involvement of more people is possible, especially considering the rather long period Jakob Starek apparently survived,'' Eve agrees, ''we just haven't concrete proof so far. But some analyses are still in progress.''
''The way the boys are wrapped in blankets,'' Grace mentions, thoughtfully examining the photos,''– not exactly intending to cover or hide the corpse, but much more like... one would wrap up a little child before putting him to bed. That shows emotional attachment to the victims. The final act of kindness...''
''Emotional he sure is, or full of regret, parts of the blankets are soaked with lachrymal fluid,'' Eve remarks.
''Tears?'' Boyd's eyebrows raise in astonishment.
''Tears. Lots of them. Enough to contain fragments of DNA. Someone must have really wept his heart out over these boys.''
''And the blood-drops and tears on both victims belong to the same person – so far unidentified male?''
Eve nods. ''That's why the original investigation seriously considered the existence of another possible victim. But now that the same biological evidence is found on both bodies and considering the time gap between the two murders, it's obvious that the blood and tears belong to someone who was involved in getting rid of the corpses.''
''I can understand the tears, but what about the blood? Doesn't sound very likely that the killer just injures himself on both occasions. Some weird ritual, perhaps?'', Spence speculates.
''Could be,'' Eve agrees. ''and I hope Grace has some ideas to help us on with that theory. I can only suggest a much less intriguing explanation myself. The way the blood has dripped on the blankets, indicating that the bleeding body part had to be right above the victims makes me think of one more possibility – nosebleed. Getting rid of a dead body certainly is a very stressful situation and if a person has blood pressure problems or some sort of anomaly of intranasal blood vessels... it's not uncommon actually and therefore also worth considering.''
''So if someone gets a nosebleed in our interview room, we've found our culprit,'' Boyd remarks with an ironic smirk, ''That's good to know.''
''I wouldn't count that as solid incriminating evidence, his interview techniques considered,'' Eve makes a barely audible comment to Grace, who's sitting next to her.
''What?'' Boyd demands impatiently.
''Nothing important.'' Both women try their best to remain serious.
'OK, lets get to work then,' Boyd concludes briskly, bringing his palms together with a clap and starts assigning everybody to their respective task.
''We'll let you back to the lab to your urgent tasks right away, Eve. Grace – you know what I expect from you - a preliminary profile of the potential perpetrator. And I'd love to read your take on our philanthropist's possible metamorphosis into a murderer. Oh, and don't forget that ritual-option either. The rest of us have plenty of basic police work ahead. Brandon Ellis was left in a public park where everyone has access to, but no-one will just bury a body in a completely strange backyard, even if the house is known to be empty. There has to be some connection. Let's try to clear out everything about that house - all the previous owners or tenants, maintenance firms that might have had access to the premises, the neighbours need to be questioned naturally. The Social Services – that's another focus of our interest. Both victims were in their black list - might be significant as well. Let's shake that institution a bit to find out the circle of people who have access to such delicate data. And maybe we can get some extra information about Marc Carlisle from them too.''
''Why is that missing kid on our board at all?'' Spence finally gets the chance to raise the question, he's been looking forward to ask for a while already. ''We don't know for sure that these cases are connected and he hasn't been missing long enough for it being a 'cold' case. We should just concentrate on the two certain victims without making things complicated with something that's not exactly CCU's speciality.
''But he clearly fits the pattern,'' Boyd justifies, ''Same looks, same age, problem background, the unclear circumstances of disappearance... How on earth anybody else hasn't come to this before is a complete mystery to me. I'd wish to be wrong about it, believe me, but everything refers to him being the next target of the killer.''
It's against Spence's nature to waive holding his ground that easily. ''Two murdered kids plus a still missing 5-year-old - we haven't got enough resources nor manpower to cope with all that! And we are about to start knocking doors in a respectable neighbourhood and shaking the Social Services – the bloodhounds of the media are sent on our heals immediately. The upper echelons want to keep up appearances and if we fail to provide results fast enough, we'll be the perfect scapegoats. That's probably the reason this case was foisted on us in the first place.''
Boyd's irritation is distinctly growing. ''No-one's foisted anything on anybody. I requested this case myself.''
''And we all have to risk our careers because you deliberately lead us on a suicide mission!'', Spence confronts him fearlessly.
''Really, Spence, you disappoint me,'' Boyd shakes his head reproachfully, ''I would have never listed you as someone afraid of challenges.''
''Look, sir, I have nothing against working with the case itself.'' Spence sounds clearly disturbed by Boyd's open contempt. ''I just don't like the way you make such important decisions without discussing anything with us at all.''
''You want discussion?'' Boyd's voice raises a fraction more and he gesticulates agitatedly. ''By all means let's do it then. You've already made your standpoint pretty clear. Let's give everybody else a chance to express their opinion as well then. Don't be shy, I'm all in favour of democracy! How about you Stella, do you have a problem with my choice of cases as well?''
Stella is suddenly very busy with arranging some papers on her desk. She keeps her eyes down and gives a nervous head shake in response.
Boyd turns to Eve next. ''Can you handle the extra work this case brings along? Am I demanding too much of you, perhaps?''
Eve's answer is very diplomatic. ''I can manage fine as long as you accept the fact that certain analyses take certain time and I can't give you all the answers right away.''
Grace doesn't like the sudden unpleasantly tense atmosphere in the squad-room the least bit.
''There really isn't any point in this discussion right now, is there? The case materials are on our board already, so we'd better just try our best and have a go,'' she suggests, wishing to bring the argument to it's end.
''Golden words. The sooner we stop wasting time, the more we get done and you won't have any reason to blame me for making you stay here overtime once again,'' Boyd declares resolutely, topping it off with a bitter sarcasm at his DI's expense: ''Sorry, Spence, but it looks like the Mutiny on the Bounty is not going to happen just yet!''
He leaves the squad room, the loud bang of his office door clearly reflecting his mood.
Grace remains sitting, drumming against the desk with her fingertips, unable to decide whether talking to Boyd right away would do any good.
The gloomy and wounded look on Spence's face is enough to make up her mind, so she gets up and decisively heads towards Boyd's office, followed by the anticipating looks of her colleagues. Eve lingers as well, not wanting to miss the match of the Titans. To everybody's disappointment Grace closes the door behind her quietly but firmly.
Boyd casts a challenging over-the-glasses look from behind his desk, clearly prepared for a castigating lecture.
Grace forces herself calm and deliberately avoiding any confrontational gestures, takes a seat opposite him.
''All this wasn't exactly necessary, was it?'' A suggestion really, barely reproachful or meant to criticize.
The response is childishly obstinate: ''I didn't start it.''.
''Maybe not, but does it automatically entitle you to scolding and ordering everybody around then? Your colleagues deserve some respect still, they are qualified professionals not children...''
Boyd cuts in heatedly. ''You're damn right about that, they're not children,'' he lays extra stress on the word, ''we've got children on our evidence-board, dead children, brutally murdered. All I want is this team of finest professionals to show a little bit more interest and enthusiasm in trying to catch the bastard who killed them. Is giving these unfortunate kids justice really too much to ask?''
Grace gives a sigh. ''You and your eternal crusade for justice, one break-neck case after another... The pace you set on us all is beyond all endurance. Concentrating on work and keeping oneself occupied is an acceptable coping mechanism, but you turn it into a form of self-torture, inflicting everybody around you as well. Don't think I can't see the real reason behind it all - that's why I keep offering you a chance to talk to me... ''
As if she'd pulled out the proverbial red rag.
''You should rather use your professional skills and valuable time on profiling our potential perpetrator, instead of psychoanalysing me! If everyone gave their fair share we wouldn't have to worry about getting results at all!''
''Just carry on the way you do and the result you'll get is a stack of resignation notices on your desk!'' Grace snaps back irritatedly.
She regrets the sharp remark instantly, but it hits the target.
When Boyd continues, there's a lot more simple need for understanding than self-justification in his voice.
''They called me some ungodly hour Saturday morning, as usual,'' he smirks bitterly, ''so I got here, looked through the materials of the Brandon Ellis case. The whole thing is just... I'm definitely not blaming the original team, they did their work properly, it's the bloody Met's general policy that pisses me off. The murder case of a 5-year-old child should never be declared 'cold' nor land in the archives in the first place, be it 5 or 25 years. Perhaps, if they hadn't called off the active investigation, Jakob Starek could still be alive... Maybe these kids didn't have the brightest of future ahead, no loving families to fight for them - that doesn't mean they're expendable, that they don't deserve justice. And now we're waiting for Marc Carlisle's body to turn out before we finally take some action!? How many more victims!? I just had to do something... had to take the case...''
''You've been here all weekend once again then, nights included?'' Grace shakes her head ruefully. ''Why didn't you call us? You really didn't have to deal with it all alone, we would have come and helped.''
''I did call Eve right away, couldn't manage without her. As for the rest of you – I just accidentally overheard what big plans everybody had for the weekend, so why spoil them unless strictly necessary. Risking to ruin my impeccable slave-driver-boss reputation, of course,'' he adds with due sarcasm. ''And there really wasn't that much to do at such an early stage, Eve dealt with the autopsy and testing and I started with contacting the families. Brandon Ellis' mother overdosed two years ago, no-one's left to inform about reopening the case any more. Anna Starek is still in prison. 'Don't expect me to pay for the bloody funeral!'- that's how she took the news about the tragic fate of her son. I met Rachel Carlisle, the mother of that missing boy too, wanted to tell her that our team takes over the investigation, that we might have some possible new leads... Her reaction wasn't quite what I expected either...''
Grace nods in sympathy, clearly imagining how it might have been. The parents of missing children, the one's he could identify himself with were always Boyd's weak spot. It must have been a harsh experience for him when his whole-hearted intentions to offer support and reassurance encountered the rather indifferent response.
Looking quite desolate, Boyd gives a weary sigh and runs his hand through his hair. All silvery now, no more darker streaks, Grace notices. The lack of sleep is clearly showing on his face, making him look much older. The sudden urge to go and hug him in consolation is almost irresistible. A couple of years ago she would have just done it. Not any more, Boyd having somehow managed to create insurmountable barriers between them. The only thing she can do for him these days is reassuring him that he is not alone in his fight for justice.
''Boyd, we all want to catch their killer just as much as you do. And we will give our best. You have no reason to ever question the dedication of any of your team members. You know that yourself, don't you?
He nods in consent. ''That's the main reason I requested this case. We've succeeded before where all others have given up, we're used to turn over every stone and think outside the box. I know that we have what it takes to finally catch that bastard.''
''Having a noble goal to struggle for is apparently all you need to keep yourself going, but we common mortals still have some mundane needs - a bite to eat and a couple of hours of sleep occasionally to sustain ourselves.'' Grace hopes that little touch of humour to enlighten the atmosphere.
Boyd smirks. A moment later he is on his feet and opens the door to the squad-room. The faces of his colleagues reflect nervous expectation.
''Look... I did over-react before, I know that. I am sorry. We should have talked before deciding on taking the case. And as regards to the lunch-breaks... they are naturally allowed. In fact the next pizza will be on me,'' his initially apologetic face turns mischievous,. ''… as it is claimed to be so beneficial for brain-work according to distinguished experts.''
Grace has followed him to the squad room. ''Oh, don't expect to get away that easy", she challenges him, ''we deserve a much more generous treat from our DSI if we crack this case!''
''Fair enough! No skimping, that's a promise, if you all prove that you're worth it,'' Boyd agrees eagerly. ''I hope everybody is suitably motivated now!'' The notorious grin, so seldom seen these days, is back for a moment.
The mobile in his jacket pocket starts to ring. A quick glance on the display to identify the caller and his expression becomes grim again.
''Private call,'' he mentions curtly and retreats to his office quickly, closing the door in a spectacularly civilised way this time.
''How do you do it, Grace?'' Stella whispers in sincere admiration. ''You walk into the cave of a roaring lion and come out with... a pussy-cat.''
''It's just one of her many talents.'' Spence offers, sly smirk on his face.
''You big flatterer!'', Grace pats his shoulder. ''I'm afraid I've lost this 'talent', though,'' she adds with a rueful smile. '' Today was just a fluke.''
Boyd's door opens once again. He's got his coat on and seems to be in a hurry.
''I'll be back in an hour.'' A moment later he's gone without any further explanation.
His team members exchange confused but relieved looks.