A/N: I don't own any of the "Backstrom" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
Backstrom lifting a piece of evidence off the crime scene wasn't exactly made clear in the first chapter, but that is kind of the point. While watching the show, I had a feeling that Nicole was becoming a little more like Backstrom, with him almost being a mentor to her, and this chapter explores that a bit. I still haven't gotten around to including Backstrom's "I'm you" catchphrase, but I will.
It was hard watching Helene Gray. Her face was pale, her eyes watery, her fists clenched. She couldn't stop shivering. She was sitting on a living room couch, oprostite to Nicole and John, who were sitting on the sofa.
"I can't believe this", she exclaimed, her voice shaky. "I just..." She sighed before rubbing her eyes. "I knew his job was dangerous. But he loved it. That's who he was. And now..." She didn't finish her sentence, because her voice cracked, a sob rising up from her throat.
John moved a bit closer to her, gently talking her hand. He watched her carefully as she cried, her whole body shivering, but didn't say anything. Nicole just remained in her position, also silent. She was unsure about how and when to proceed next.
"Do you know did Michael have any enemies?", John asked softly, still holding Helene's hand. "Do you have any idea who would want to hurt him?"
Helene took a deep breath, straightening up a bit. "Well... his job was dangerous, obviously. But he never mentioned anyone in particular. We didn't talk much about his job anyway."
"What about his... your personal life?", Nicole asked. John briefly glanced at her, but didn't say anything.
"He has a younger sister", Helene answered, smiling sadly for a moment. "Sara. She is sort of... estranged. They don't get along very well. But she could never do something like that."
"Just a routine question", John proceeded. "Where were you yesterday, between ten and twelve pm?"
"Here", Helene answered. "Home alone, sleeping." She smiled sadly. "I couldn't wait for the morning to come, so I would... see again..."
"It's all right", he was whispering softly, still holding her hand. "It's all right."
"Pardon me for asking, but can we have a look at... the master's bedroom?", Nicole asked softly. "And the workroom, if he had one."
"It's OK", Helene said. "Down the hallway to the right. He didn't have a workroom."
"Would you mind coming by the precinct sometime, providing fingerprints and DNA sample?", John asked. "For elimination purposes. Routine."
"Sure", Helene said, nodding her head.
Helene followed them to there. The master's bedroom was of average size, and it mostly consisted of the queen size bed by the middle of the room, a closet to the left, and a writing desk to the right. The walls were painted white. There was a door next to the bed, leading into the bathroom. Two laptops had been placed on the writing desk; one blue, the second one white. John and Nicole took up walking around the room, looking around as they did. Nicole soon turned her attention to the blue laptop on the writing desk, observing it for some time before turning to face Helene.
"I take it that this was his laptop", she exclaimed gently.
"Yes, it was", Helene answered, widening her eyes. "How did you know?"
"Crumbs on the top", Nicole explained, somewhat awkwardly. "And the scent. They matched to a bag of chips that forensics found... on his possession this morning. And it's the blue laptop, so..."
Helene just nodded her head, looking away. Her lips were pressed together tightly, her eyes still watery.
"We have to take it down to the precinct, put it up for analysis, examine the content", John explained. "It may help us with the investigation."
Helene nodded her head, biting her lower lip before answering. "Sure, you go ahead."
"I assume that it is password protected", Nicole said. "Do you happen to know the password?"
"Yes, it is, but no, I don't", Helene said. She then walked away, closing the door behind.
Both John and Nicole looked after her for some time. Nicole then shifted her gaze to the photographs on the wall and began walking around the room, observing them. She would often look at the bed. "They really did have a happy marriage. Or so it seems", she noted, still observing. "Bed sheets and pillows equally wrinkled on both sides, plenty of family photographs around..." She examined a bedside table, peeking into the drawers. "A full package of condoms in the first drawer to the bedside table." Walking over to the other end of the room, she opened the closet and looked inside. "Lots of clothing in this closet, some size S, some size X..."
"None as expensive as that one pair of boots that Backstrom concentrated on", John noted, glancing at Nicole as he did. He walked back over to the bed. "Alarm clock set at five thirty am. She really wanted to see him again as soon as possible."
Nicole walked into the near by bathroom and took a quick look around before opening the bathroom cabinet. "Two toothbrushes and two types of toothpaste in the bathroom cabinet. Here, in the bathroom right next to the master's bedroom." She cringed. "And the expensive hair gel that Backstrom noticed."
John looked down at the floor as Nicole walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind. "I'm still taking the laptop", she said. "I think Nicole will have no problems figuring out the password."
#
Nicole took one more glance at the house as she made her way out of the house and toward the car, followed by John.
"So... do you think that there is any chance that Backstrom is right?", she started carefully, turning to face John. "That Michael Gray was corrupt?", she said silently.
John remained silent for some time, a frown appearing on his face. "Theoretically, anyything is possible." He looked away. "But have you seen any strong evidence of that in his house?", he questioned. "Besides, was a patrol officer. Not actively involved in any criminal investigation."
Nicole ran a hand through her hair. "No. But we have yet to examine his laptop and bank accounts." She ran a hand through her hair. "There have been cases of patrol officers guarding drug warehouses, taking cuts from the criminals they would spot while on patrol..."
John sighed. "Backstrom is a good man. But he is cynical. And he's been going through a lot lately. Don't concentrate too much on what he insists on, not at the moment. He can make out too much out of certain things, all to fit the worst possible scenario. Wait for the evidence. See where they lead you."
"Leave forensics to the jury", Nicole quoted Backstrom in response, almost absent-mindedly. John glared at her briefly, but didn't respond.
#
Hookers. There they were. Three of them, dressed in skinny tops and short skirts, standing with their back against the alley wall. Everett's stomach sank, and he gritted his teeth. That was rare: he was right, but he didn't like that. He locked eyes with the one in the middle-tall, African American, with shoulder length black hair-and walked over to her.
"Hey, baby", she said filtratiously. "Wanna have some fun?"
Everett sighed. "I thought I'd find you here." He reached into his pocket. "Even in the mid afternoon, huh?", he commented before pulling out a piece of paper and showing it to her.
The prostitute glared: she seemed concerned for a moment, but quickly put a seductive smile back on her face."Boy. You really wanted to make sure you'd find us."
"Cut the crap", Everett snapped. "I found that hidden in the arm rest, in the patrol car, belonging to the police officer who was murdered yesterday night."
The woman's eyes grew wide and she flinched. "Something tells me you didn't share that discovery with your... superiours", she tried, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Why did he need that?", Everett started again. He snickered. "Was he screwing you?", he spat out, looking at every girl in front of him. "Was he your pimp? Or taking cuts from your pimps."
"You sure are eager to find out the truth", the one he approached commented.
"You bet your life I am", Everett muttered.
The witness-to-be pouted, tilting her head to the side. "Too bad I have some troubles... remembering everything." She raised her eyebrows as Everett's face fell. "Maybe fifty bucks will... refresh my memory."
Everett groaned, but pulled out his wallet, and quickly came up with fifty dollars, that he handed to the woman standing in front of him. She took the money and counted everything twice, before hiding the bills in her bra.
"There was that one cop. He met us a few times while on patrol. He could have arrested us. But he kept talking about how we could stop doing this, change our lives... blah blah blah. It didn't work, of course. But he would give us some money, sometimes. He didn't ask for anything in return. I guess he wrote down this address."
"Good Samaritan, huh?", Everett commented, a sulk appearing on his face.
"You don't believe me?", the prostitute questioned.
"I do", Everett admitted. "Lying to a police officer who is on a search for a cop killer is risky, even for a low-life for you. Had you decided to lie to me, you would have asked for more than fifty bucks. No matter how cheap you are."
"Thanks", the witness commented sarcastically, glaring at him.
"Of course, your pimps probably didn't think fondly... of that cop."
"None of us told him. The guy was sweet, he would give us money." "And if any of them knew, we either wouldn't be on this location now, or that cop would have been killed much sooner."
#
Sara's apartment was pretty cluttered, but modest. She was sitting in am armchair, opposite to John and Nicole, who were sitting on a couch. There was a TV on the small table in front of the armchair, as well as the small table near the couch, filled with homemade clay pots, nicely decorated with drawings, mostly in pink and blue colors. There were boxes of clay and paint on the floor near by.
"When was the last time you saw him?", John asked.
"About a week ago", Sara answered. "I dropped by his house when Helen was away... I needed a loan. I'm starting my own business. Pottery."
"Nice", she commented, smiling slightly. While Sara wasn't looking, she pulled the phone out of her pocket and clicked at the camera icon. She carefully adjusted the angle to the pots on the table and took a photograph.
"Did he give it to you?", John asked.
Sara nodded her head. "Yes." She shuddered. "I spoke to him last night. Over the phone. That was the last time I heard of him."
"About what?", Nicole asked.
"Just a small talk", Sara answered, shrugging. "Brother/sister stuff." She smiled sadly. "I missed him. I wanted to... smooth things out."
"Where were you last night between eleven and twelve pm?", John asked.
Sara shuddered. "Here. Alone. Working on... the pots and all."
Soon, John and Nicole were outside again, into a cluttered alleyway full of strange odors, making their way toward the car. Nicole grinned, pulling her phone out of her pocket and showing the photograph, that she had taken in Sara's apartment, to John. "Look", she exclaimed. "We can't get a warrant yet, but I think that, even by this photographs alone, forensics will be able to concluded is this type of color the one found on the patrol car. Perfectly legal: it was on a visible spot."
"It does look like a match", John agreed, still looking at the photograph. "Good job."
Nicole slipped the phone into her pocket and the two of them continued walking down the alley. Suddenly, he noticed something that made him stop in his tracks. He stared at the certain area of the pavement, his eyes wide. Nicole, having noticed that, also stopped.
"Wait", he exclaimed, pointing at that spot with his finger. Nicole turned into that direction.
"Look", he said. "Broken glass." They both leaned closer, inspecting the mess closely. "This looks like blood."
"Maybe was murdered her", Nicole suggested, straightening herself up.
"Right next to the building where his estranged sister lives", John commented, pulling the phone out of his pocket. "Probably still not enough for a warrant, this alone. But I am going to call forensics and tell them to take samples of this and examing that area. They should also check any traffic and security cameras near by."
#
Backstrom got back to the precinct just after the lunch break, a frown on his face. He headed straight to the workroom. Three people were there: Paquet, sitting at her desk and working on laptop, Peter, finishing a phone call, and Nicole, sitting at her desk and going through the notes in her notepad.
Paquet briefly glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the laptop. Nicole did the same, her cheeks turning blushed. Peter just took a long, somewhere surprised look at Backstrom, before turning his attention to the near by "case collage" already devised by Paquet, while still talking on the phone.
At that point, John and Moto walked into the workroom. They exchanged awkward glances with Everett before turning to Peter and Nicole.
"We have a drug dealer in custody", John explained. "Shermain Reyes. He operates in one of the neighborhoods where patroled last night. Well, he did-he is mostly pulling strings from the shadows on. He has been suspected of two murders before, although never convicted. A month ago, Michael arrested one of his henchmen after pulling him over due to a minot traffic offence and finding an unlicenced firearm in his posession."
"And I'll come with you, Everett declared.
John seemed uneasy, but he just nodded his head and headed toward the interrogation room, followed by Nicole and Everett.
#
Shermain was sitting at the table in the interrogation room: Nicole and John were also sitting at the table, opposite to him. Everett was standing near by, his arms crossed over his chest. The camera near by was running.
Shermain smirked at them, acting like he had no care in a world at the moment. "Seriously, people? You dragged me all the way here for this?"
"Dead cop isn't enough of a reason for you?", John asked, barely controlling his rage.
Shermain leaned over, fondling his hands together. "Frankly, no."
"Where were you last night between element and twelve pm?", Backstrom asked, sounding annoyed.
"At my place with some of my homies", Shermain answered, leaning back into his chair. "Playing poker, things like that."
"Real reliable", Nicole commented sarcastically.
Shermain sighed. "I don't know what to tell to you guys." He looked at Nicole. "Besides, that GSR test was negative!", he cried.
Everett, looking bored, pulled a pen out of his pocket and and started twirling it in his hand, observing it as he did. He would sometimes sneak glances at Shermain.
"It came back inconclusive", Nicole pointed out. "Big difference."
"Maybe we should search your place, see what turns up", John suggested, smirking.
"You have no basis for that!", Shermain protested.
"You see this?", Everett suddenly asked, showing the pen to Shermain.
Shermain frowned. Nicole and John glared at Everett. He remained calm.
"Yeah", Shermain answered, confused.
"Catch!", Backstrom suddenly yelled and threw the pen at Shermain. Shermain didn't manage to react quickly enough: the pen hit him in the chest and then rolled on the floor.
"Hey!", he protested.
"He didn't do it", Everett concluded, picking up his pen and pocketing it. He quickly made his way through the door and out of the interrogation room, with John and Nicole staring at each other and then back at him, shocked.
"Thank you!", Shermain yelled after Backstrom, shortly before John and Nicole walked outside too.
Backstrom was quickly making his way down the hallway, pretty much ignoring John and Nicole, who followed after him, and Peter, who soon tagged along.
"Reyes isn't guilty", Everett exclaimed.
"And you are basing that conclusion on what, exactly?", John asked, frowning.
"Reflexes", Everett explained, still walking. "He couldn't even catch that pencil. He might handle himself in some thug vs thug shoot out, but are we supposed to believe that he shot an experienced police officer to death before he-the officer-even managed to pull out his weapon? That could explain why Shermain is, apparently, now off the streets. Mostly. I guess long term drug use really takes a toll on you."
"Seriously?", Nicole cried.
"It could have been one of his henchmen", John suggested. "Not Reyes personally."
Everett snickered. "Just think logically. Besides, why would a known drug dealer murder a cop and then nove the body elsewhere? Guys like that want to send a message, mark their teritory."
"And a police investigation, of a cop murder, on his teritory, would have been pretty risky", Peter pointed out.
"On top of that", Everett continued, ignoring him, "after supposedly murdering a cop, a notorious drug dealer, or one of his henchmen, took the cop's watch and wallet, but left both of his guns behind?" He glared at his colleagues. "Check Michael Gray's bank records. I'm sure that will shed plenty of light on this case."
With that, he retreated to his office.