Disclaimers: I still don't own the show. If I did, I'd be accessing the Internet at home and not from a McDonald's.
Summary: Mike meets his new partner as they begin investigating a truly heinous crime.
Chapter 2: The Mystery Child in the Freezer
Early Monday morning, Mike stood in front of the bathroom mirror as he straightened his tie. He hadn't been this nervous since the day he'd married Jill. He found himself wondering who his new partner would be and he hoped that they'd get along. Looking himself over one more time, he decided that he looked presentable enough and went downstairs to breakfast. He watched Jill get Mary Kate ready as he ate his bacon and eggs. "Are you excited?" She asked as she brushed Mary Kathryn's long curls into pig tails and wrapped pony tail holders tightly around each one.
"Nervous is more like it," he admitted as he finished his coffee.
"You're going to be fine," she said as she walked over and kissed him. "I have to go or I'm going to be late. I'll see you tonight. Call me if you get a chance and let me know how things are going."
"I will," he smiled as he got up and kissed her and Mary Kate. "Have a good day. Be careful."
"That's my line," she smiled as she picked up Mary Kathryn and her bag. "I love you."
"I love you, too. I'll see you tonight."
Mike pulled into the precinct parking lot at the same time as Willie and Terry. "Check out the new detective," Terry teased as they followed Mike into the precinct. "Are you going to make the streets safer for humanity?"
"I'm sure going to try," Mike grinned. "I'll see you guys later."
When Mike had received his promotion, Willie had been offered his old job but he'd refused it, saying that he wanted to stay out on the streets with his partner for the time being. Mike had disagreed with his decision, telling Jill that he knew that Willie and Jen could use the extra money with the new baby on the way. But, Jill had told him that it was Willie's decision. He could always change his mind later.
***MJMJMJ***
Willie and Terry were on patrol when they got the call that every cop dreads. "Ludlow nine, see the man about a possible dead body. 'U Store It' Public Storage. 14539 Lansing. Code Two," dispatch ended the call as the two friends looked at each other and groaned.
"A dead body in this heat," Willie shuddered as he wrote down the information in their log book.
"I bet you twenty bucks that it's a popper," Terry said, referring to a decomposing body that had bloated in the heat. He made a face as he headed for the address. "A dead body in one of those enclosed storage units in this heat. Yuck!"
"Aren't those places air conditioned? I know when we first moved out here, Jen and I put our things into one of them until we could find a house. The one that we had was air conditioned," Willie remembered.
"Some of them are, but I think it's only if they're in use. Let's just see what we find. Who knows? Maybe we're handing Det. Sgt. Danko his first case," Terry grinned at his partner who couldn't help but grin back.
They found the address and stopped the patrol car outside of the manager's office. Just as they both exited the car, the door to the office opened and a man in his mid-50's emerged. "I'm Mr. Harrison," he said by way of introduction. "I was checking on overdue accounts when I found it. I think it's a kid, by the size of it."
"You said that you think you found a body inside of a freezer," Terry said as they followed him toward the unit.
"Yeah, one of those big chest freezers. It was plugged in so I opened it to see if it was actually running. I didn't smell anything rotten, so I figured that it had to be working," the man rambled as they approached the unit. "It was empty except for what I found inside. It is a body, isn't it?" He asked as he stood in the doorway of the unit.
Terry and Willie walked up to the freezer and lifted the lid. As Mr. Harrison had stated, it was completely empty except for a bundle wrapped in a floral quilt that was tied with what appeared to be neckties. "Willie, why don't you go and radio for detectives? If this is what we all think it is, I don't want to mess up a crime scene."
"Should I call for the M.E. also?" Willie asked as Terry nodded.
"Aren't you going to open it?" The old man asked as Willie ran past him.
"Not until the detectives get here. How long has this freezer been here?" Terry asked as he took out his notebook to take notes.
"Let me see," Mr. Harrison consulted his clipboard. "It was rented on the 10th of January by a Ms. Rosemary White of 12913 Ocean Drive in Santa Monica."
"Did you see Ms. White move in anything besides the freezer?"
"I didn't even see her move in the freezer. I don't watch every vehicle that comes through the gates, officer."
"Do customers have access to the facility after hours?"
"Nope. I'm opened eight to six Monday through Friday and nine till one on Saturday. We're closed on Sunday," the old man answered as Willie came back in and announced that the detectives, the crime lab, and the medical examiner were on their way.
***MJMJMJ***
Back at the precinct, Mike walked upstairs to the detective's squad room. He looked around at the cubicles, wondering where he was supposed to be. A man in his 40's saw Mike looking around and figured that it had to be his new partner. "Are you Danko?" He asked as he got up and walked toward Mike with his hand out.
"Yes, sir," Mike said, shaking the proffered hand.
"I'm Det. Lt. Steven Brinker. You're going to be with me. Come on, I'll show you your desk," he said as he led Mike through the maze of cubicles. "Normally, as a new detective, you'd probably start out in GTA, but since I'm in between partners, the powers that be decided to let you cut your teeth with me. Do as I say and you're going to be just fine." Brinker showed Mike to a desk directly across from his as his phone started ringing. He reached across and picked it up. "Brinker! Hold on," he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. "Go ahead. Tell the officers on the scene not to touch anything and we'll be there in 20 minutes!"
"We've got a call?" Mike guessed as Brinker hung up the phone.
"It looks that way. Follow me and I'll explain everything on the way," Brinker said as he quickly left the squad room and walked downstairs, Mike on his heels. "A patrol unit got a call to talk to a man about a possible db."
"A db?" Mike looked at Brinker in puzzlement.
"A dead body. I talk in acronyms, a habit I picked up from the army. Anyway, when the unit arrived on the scene, they found what appears to be the body of a child in a freezer. According to the call I just took, nothing's been touched, so with any luck, it'll just be a deer or something," he said as he walked toward a brown Crown Victoria in the parking lot. "I'll get you a set of keys to the unmarked before tomorrow. I don't like playing chauffeur."
"Excuse me for sounding stupid, sir . . . "
"It's Lieutenant, Brinker, or Steve. I hate being called 'sir,'" Brinker warned him as he unlocked the car and they both got in. "There's no such thing as a stupid question, Danko. What's on your mind?"
"How could someone mistake a child for a deer?"
"Oh, whatever is in the freezer is wrapped in a quilt. No one's unwrapped it, yet. But, look on the bright side. At least the freezer was plugged in and working."
"You got all of that from a 20 second phone call?"
"Man, you're more of a rookie than a rookie," Brinker grimaced as he pulled out of the parking lot. "When we take calls in the detective's squad room, we're given as much information as possible with as few words as possible. Don't worry, you'll catch on."
It was a 25 minute drive to the storage facility. Brinker pulled in and quickly found the patrol unit. The M.E. and lab techs had arrived shortly before they had. The M.E. had the quilt-wrapped bundle on a gurney when they walked in. "I was just about to cut the ties if your techs want to get some pictures," she said as she looked at Brinker. "I see that they finally gave you a new partner."
"Yeah. Sgt. Danko, this is Dr. Wells. Cut as close to the knots as you can. That'll give us a clue as to who we're dealing with. Do we know who rented the unit?" He asked Terry.
"Yes, sir. The renter is a woman by the name of Rosemary White. Here's her address," Terry handed the card automatically to Mike, who tried to hand it to his partner.
"No, he gave it to you," Brinker said as he looked at Mike.
"The name on here's probably as phony as the address," Mike said as he glanced at the rental card.
"How do you know the address is a fake?" Brinker tried not to act impressed.
"I take my daughter to the Santa Monica pier all of the time. I know Ocean Drive very well. This address would be in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." Mike looked down as the M.E. finished cutting the ties on the quilt and carefully unwrapped it.
None of the cops or the M.E. were prepared for what they were going to see when the quilt was opened.
If she hadn't been in the freezer, you would've thought that she was sleeping except for the bluish tinge to her lips and cheeks. She appeared to be three or four years old, dressed in a pair of pink flannel pajamas. "Can you determine how she died?" Brinker asked
"Not until I do an autopsy and I won't be able to do that until she thaws out," the M.E. sighed as the techs took more pictures of the body, the freezer, and the storage unit.
"How long will that take?"
"I don't know. Eight hours, maybe more. Call me before the end of the day and I'll give you an update," she said as her assistant handed her a black body bag and they zipped the little frozen bundle into it.
"Let's run the name on the card in the system," Brinker told Mike. "I agree with you that it's probably a fake, but maybe it isn't. Let's just see what turns up. Have you guys dusted for prints?" He turned to the techs.
"Yes, sir," one of the techs handed Brinker the cards containing what prints they'd found.
"And you guys didn't touch anything?" Brinker asked as he looked at Terry, Willie, and the old man.
"I opened the freezer," the old man volunteered.
"So did I," Terry added.
"Okay, we'll eliminate you guys from the freezer. Did you touch anything else?" He asked irritably.
"No, sir," Terry answered.
"Just the lock on the door when I came in here," Mr. Harrison said.
"The news people are here," Willie announced as he looked inside.
"Great," Brinker sighed. "Make way for the vultures. Have you ever talked to the media?" He turned to Mike.
"No, sir . . . lieutenant," Mike quickly said as Brinker glared at him.
"You're going to learn two words very quickly. 'No comment.' We don't give them any more information than we have to. Watch and learn," Brinker said as he stepped out of the storage unit where cameras and microphones from all of the local networks awaited them.
"Lieutenant, is it true that a child's body was found inside of a freezer in this unit?" An attractive woman from the local ABC affiliate asked him, thrusting a microphone into his face.
"I can't give you any information at this time," the lieutenant said to the gathering throng. "I'll try to schedule a press conference for later this afternoon where I'll disclose what we know. Thank you," he quickly ducked back into the unit with Mike on his heels. "That, Sgt. Danko, is how you handle the press."
After looking for forensic evidence, Brinker and Mike headed back to the precinct to run the name on the card through the department's computer. "You mentioned that you have a daughter," Brinker said as he drove back toward town.
"Yeah, she's almost two," Mike answered.
"Just do me a favor and don't start comparing this dead kid to your little girl. Fortunately for you, your little girl is alive and well while we have to find out why our little frozen girl isn't."
"It makes you wonder about some people, though," Mike sighed as he stared out of his window.
"I stopped wondering about why people do things a long time ago. I've been a cop for 23 years and have seen all too well man's inhumanity to man," Brinker said. "I've seen parents hack up their kids. I've seen kids hack up their parents. After a while, you just stop asking why."
"Well, I've only been doing this for seven years and I thought I'd seen everything."
"I don't think we're ever going to see everything, Danko. People are always coming up and new and more creative ways to kill each other. Just when you think you've seen it all, you discover that you haven't."
"My wife says the same thing," Mike looked at his new partner. "She's the head trauma nurse at Memorial Hospital. She says the same thing about just when you think you've seen it all, something new and bizarre comes through the door."
"A cop and a nurse. Man, I bet you guys can keep a group entertained at parties," Brinker said as he pulled into the precinct parking lot. "Go ahead and take that name to the computer people and see if they can come up with something."
While Brinker went upstairs, Mike went to the computer lab. "I need for you to see if you can find something on a Rosemary White," he told the computer tech, who looked at Mike as if he'd just grown a second head. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything else. Just a name. Can you do something with just a name?"
"A social security number or a date of birth would be better, but I'll see what I can do," the tech said as he typed in the name and hit the 'enter' key. "This might take a few hours. Standing over me isn't going to make things go any faster."
"Okay. Call me upstairs in the detective's bureau if you get a hit," Mike started to leave.
"What's your number?" The tech asked as Mike stopped in his tracks.
"You know what? I don't know, so call me at Lt. Brinker's extension," Mike said as he left the room.
Mike was at his desk a few hours later when Brinker's phone rang. "Brinker!" He shouted into the phone. "Hold on," he turned and looked at Mike in irritation. "Why is Wilson calling you on my extension?" When Mike gave him a puzzled look, Brinker sighed and rolled his eyes. "Wilson's the computer guy, rookie."
"Oh. I didn't know my extension number," Mike got up and took the phone. "This is Danko."
"I don't know how much this is going to help. I've got about 30 Rosemary Whites, but only one of them was from this area," Wilson relayed to Mike.
"That's great! Give me the address," he said as he signaled to Brinker to give him a piece of paper and something to write with.
"Slow down, Sergeant. I said that she was from the area. She died in a car accident in 1971."
"Okay, thanks," Mike said as he hung up. "Wilson said that there was one Rosemary White who lived in this area, but she died in a car accident in 1971."
"So, somebody stole her name."
"It appears that way, but I'm thinking that it was somebody who knew Rosemary White and knew that she was dead."
"We need to get down to the coroner's office and take some pictures of the dead girl and give them to the newspapers. Somebody out there has to know who this girl was and who she belonged to," Brinker said as he picked up the phone and dialed. "Jane, Steve Brinker. I know that you haven't been able to start the autopsy, but could we come down and take some Polaroid's of the dead girl? I want to give them to the newspaper and see if we can get her identified."
"Yeah. There's something that I need to show you, anyway," the M.E. said as she ended the call.
"Come on, let's go to the morgue," Brinker announced as he got up. "Dr. Wells said that she needs to show us something, anyway. I'll even let you drive," he tossed the car keys to Mike.
The morgue was deep in the bowels of the county hospital. The smell was the first thing you noticed when you entered. Mike tried to breathe through his mouth as they approached the autopsy table. "When I undressed our small Jane Doe, I noticed this," Dr. Wells pointed to a long scar running down the little girl's chest. "She's had heart surgery."
"Recently?" Brinker wanted to know.
"Hard to say. The scar isn't real recent, but it's probably been in the last two years. Pass that on to the newspaper when you take them the picture. That should help a lot," she said. "Oh, and another thing. The quilt she was wrapped in was handmade."
"How do you know that?"
"My grandmother was a quilter. Also, I'm thinking she comes from a wealthy family. Her pajamas came from a high-end store."
"That doesn't mean anything. The pajamas could've been a gift," Mike piped in as the M.E. nodded. "What I mean is my parents give my daughter expensive clothes and gifts all of the time. That doesn't mean that my wife and I are wealthy, because believe me, we're not."
"Good point," the M.E. conceded as Brinker took out his Polaroid instant camera and snapped several pictures of the little girl, taking them from all angles. "Are you going to the Times from here?"
"Yeah. Hopefully we can get these pictures in the early edition tomorrow," Brinker said as he finished his task. "Are you going to do the autopsy tomorrow?"
"First thing in the morning. Hopefully she'll be thawed out enough by then. She sure was a pretty little thing," she sighed as they looked at the little girl on her table. "Some people just shouldn't be parents."
"Agreed," Brinker said. "Thanks, Jane. We'll see you in the morning."
"I'll be here. Steve!" She called out as Mike and Brinker were about to leave. "I'm glad that they gave you a partner who can speak this time."
"Me, too," Brinker agreed as they left the morgue.
"What was that supposed to mean?" Mike asked as they took the elevator back upstairs.
"My last partner didn't have an opinion of his own. He deferred everything to me. While I may not always agree with what you say, I'll listen and thank God that you at least have a mind of your own. Come on, let's go talk to my favorite reporter at the Times," he said as they left the hospital and walked to the car.
They parked in the street in front of the offices of The Los Angeles Times. Brinker placed a placard on the windshield stating that they were on official police business. "So, do you use this particular reporter a lot?" Mike asked as they entered the newspaper building.
"His daughter was murdered six years ago. I was the lead investigator on the case and found the scumbag who did it. Since then, he's been in the business of paying me back. Let's just say he's eternally grateful," Brinker said as they took the elevator upstairs.
When they got to the 6th floor, Brinker asked for Bobby Collier. Within a few moments, a man in his late 30's approached them. "Lt. Brinker, what can I do for you today?" Collier asked as he shook Brinker's hand.
"Bobby, this is my new partner, Det. Sgt. Danko. Sgt. Danko, this is Bobby Collier. Can we sit down somewhere?"
"Yeah, let's go to my desk," Bobby said as he led them over to a desk that was cluttered with papers and a typewriter. "What do you need?" He asked as he sat and motioned them to two empty chairs.
"We need to find out who this little girl is," Brinker handed the picture of the dead girl over to Bobby. "We found her this morning in a freezer in a storage unit in the valley. She was wrapped in this quilt," he shoved a picture of the quilt at him, as well. "Can you run a story that'll run in the early morning edition?"
"How old do you think she is?" Bobby asked as he took notes.
"Anywhere from two to maybe five. She also has a scar running down her chest. The M.E. says it's probably from open heart surgery. We also believe that the quilt is handmade and she was dressed in pajamas from a high-end store such as Macy's or Nieman's. Is that enough?" Brinker asked.
"Yeah. I think I can get my editor to run with this. I just hope he doesn't decide to bury it inside of the paper where it won't get seen," Collier grimaced as he looked at the pictures.
"Bobby, I need this story to run on page one. Somebody discarded this little girl in a freezer like she was a steak or something. I want to find the person who did this," Brinker stared at Bobby with steely eyes as the newspaper man nodded.
"I agree, Steve. I'll do the best that I can. It's all I can do," Bobby said as Brinker and Mike got up to leave.
When they arrived back at the precinct, Brinker was told that the electronic media were gathered in the conference room, wanting to know what they had on the girl from the freezer. "Let's go deal with the vultures," he sighed as he and Mike walked into the conference room where the news stations were waiting. Stepping up to a long table, Brinker stood in front of a sea of microphones. "This morning, a patrol unit was called to a storage facility in the valley. Inside of a freezer inside of one of these units they found the body of a small child between the ages of two and five."
"Do you know the renter of the unit?" One of the news people asked.
"Not at this time. This is a Polaroid taken at the morgue," Brinker said as he held a picture up toward the cameras. "If anybody knows who this child is, please contact your nearest police department. Thank you," he said as he stepped away from the microphones, indicating that the press conference was over.
***MJMJMJ***
At home that evening, Jill was cooking dinner as Mary Kathryn played happily in her play pen. As long as she could see her mother, everything was all right in her world. Jill had a small TV sitting on the counter and was watching it while she fixed dinner. Her attention was suddenly caught by the picture of a small child that was flashed on the screen. "Police are looking for information regarding the identity of this child. She appears to be between the ages of two and five and was discovered this morning inside of a freezer in a storage unit located in the valley . . . "
She found herself wondering if Mike had caught this case, but just as quickly she dismissed the notion. He wouldn't be working homicide as a new detective. Eddie had told her that Mike's first assignment would probably be Juvenile or Grand Theft Auto, departments with fairly high solve rates and little chance of being violent.
Mary Kathryn's eyes lit up as she heard the garage door being raised. "Daddy!" She chortled happily as a moment later, the door leading into the house opened and he walked in, loosening his tie as he closed the door. "Daddy!" She cried out as she stood up and held out her arms to him.
"Hi, pumpkin," he greeted her as he walked over and lifted her out of the baby prison, cradling her warm body close to his as he breathed in the scent of her. "I missed you today," he kissed her before walking over and kissing Jill. "Hi, baby. Dinner smells great. I'm starving."
"It'll be done in 15 minutes or so if you want to take a shower first," she said as she reached out to take Mary Kathryn from him.
He backed away when she tried to take the baby as he looked at the TV. "Have they said anything about . . . "
"A little girl in a freezer? Yeah, it was just on. Mike, please tell me that this isn't your case," she pleaded as he walked over to the table and sat down with Mary Kathryn on his lap.
"I could tell you that, but I'd be lying. It seems that Lt. Brinker needed a partner and guess what?" He looked at her with a wry smile as she turned off the TV. "One part of me should feel honored to be working homicide so early, but the other part of me wants to work something a lot less gruesome. Terry and Willie were the ones who got the original call. It was awful."
"Go take a shower and try to put it out of your mind for right now," she suggested as she took Mary Kathryn from him and put her back in the playpen as the baby began to scream in protest. "Dinner will be ready by the time you get out."
After dinner was over and the dishes were washed, Jill took Mary Kathryn upstairs to give her a bath before turning her over to Mike. Bedtime had always been Mike and Mary Kathryn's special ritual, except when he'd worked evening shift. Now that he was a detective, his hours would be more regular and he could put his daughter to bed almost every night. He'd sit with her in the big white rocker in her bedroom and read two storybooks to her. She never made it past the first one, but she'd instantly wake up if he tried to put her to bed without reading the second one. Somehow she always knew.
Jill was sitting downstairs reading as she waited for Mike to come back downstairs. Usually he wasn't gone more than half an hour. Tonight, it had been almost an hour and he still hadn't left Mary Kathryn's room. She put down her book and walked upstairs. Sticking her head into the baby's room, she was surprised to find Mike just sitting in the rocker, holding Mary Kathryn, who was sound asleep. "Mike, you need to put her in bed. She's going to get spoiled if you sit there and hold her while she sleeps," she whispered.
"Sorry. I lost track of time," he apologized as he got up and put Mary Kate in her bed, covering her with her favorite blanket and putting her doll by his side. He then turned on her nightlight and left the room, pulling the door partially closed behind him.
She sighed as she went back downstairs. Cases involving kids were always the worst for Mike. She knew he was going to equate this dead little girl with Mary Kathryn and she knew it was going to drive her crazy. The only thing she could do was hope that this case was solved quickly.
**MJMJMJ***
The next morning, in an apartment near UCLA, a young woman was eating her breakfast as she read the morning paper. The picture she found staring at her from the front page of the L.A. TIMES almost made her spit out her mouthful of cornflakes. She recognized the child, but mostly she recognized the quilt because she'd helped the child's grandmother make it. She also knew it was her when she read about the surgical scar. She jumped to her feet and grabbed her car keys before racing out of the front door.
It was an hour long drive to the precinct. The young woman found a parking space and ran into the building. A police officer looked up from the front desk as she approached him. "May I help you?"
"I need to talk to somebody about the little girl in the paper," she said as she pointed to the paper lying on the counter of the desk.
"Hold on," the desk sergeant picked up the phone and dialed. "Lt. Brinker, there's a young woman down here who wants to talk to somebody about the frozen girl."
"Don't call her that!" The woman shrieked as heads turned to stare at her. "She happens to be my sister!"
"Tell her that I'll be right down," Brinker said as he hung up and looked at Mike. "We might have an identity for our dead kid. I'll be right back." He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the lobby and spotted the young woman. "Excuse me. I'm Lt. Brinker. May I help you?"
"My name is Margaret Smyth," she introduced herself. "This little girl in this picture is my half-sister Grace."
"Are you sure?" Brinker asked as the woman glared at him. "I'm sorry, Ms. Smyth. Please come upstairs to my desk and you can give me and my partner some information. Would you like some coffee or something else to drink?"
"No, thank you. I just want some answers," she said as Brinker led her to his desk and found a chair as he introduced her to Mike. "The first thing I want to know is where Alexandra is."
"Who's Alexandra?" Mike asked.
"Alexandra is my other sister and if Grace is dead, she's probably in danger, too. Did you find any evidence that anybody else was dead?" Ms. Smyth asked as she pulled a tissue from her purse.
"No," Brinker answered. "Could we get some background information first? First, are you positive that this child is your half-sister?"
"I have pictures," she said as she removed her wallet and opened it, showing them several professional photographs of a small girl who looked amazingly like the child in the morgue. "Also, the newspaper mentioned a surgical scar. Grace had open heart surgery when she was 10 months old for an ASD."
"Excuse me, but what is an ASD?" Brinker asked.
"I'm sorry. I'm a medical student and I forget that everybody doesn't have medical knowledge. It's an Atrial Septal Defect. A hole in her heart."
"When's the last time that you saw Grace?" Mike asked.
"Christmas. I moved out when I was 18. That was when I decided that I'd had enough of my step-monster. I visit as little as I possibly can, although I do try to call my sisters to keep in touch. It's been harder lately because my class schedule is rough and I'm doing residency at Cedars Sinai. The last time I talked to Alexandra was in March and she sounded strange. I can't explain it any better than that. She said something about Elizabeth shipping her off to school, which I can't believe my father would agree to," she looked at the two cops as they wrote furiously in their pads.
"What does your father and stepmother do for a living?" Brinker asked.
"My father is a trial lawyer. He specializes in international law. He's been in Hong Kong since right after Christmas working on a big case. My stepmother's job? Basically, it's just spending my father's money as fast as he makes it. My mother died in a car accident when I was 14 and Alexandra was four . . . "
"In 1971?" Mike guessed as Margaret stared at him in shock.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"We'll come back to that," Brinker said as he looked at Mike. "What do you think happened to Grace?"
"Elizabeth killed her," Margaret stated simply. "As I said, mine and Alexandra's mother died in a car accident. My father didn't want us raised by nannies and all of that stuff. That's the way that he was raised and he hated it. When he married Elizabeth, he tried to enforce that edict. Well, my step-monster wasn't having any of that. She hired a governess for both of us and relegated us to the third floor. It was like something out of 'The Sound of Music' without the cheerful music and singing. I think she was shocked when she got pregnant with Grace. Shock that was made worse when Grace was born less than perfect. After the surgery, the doctors assured my father and Elizabeth that there was no reason why Grace couldn't live a normal life. But, Elizabeth hated noise. And, as I'm sure you both know, children make a lot of noise. Even children stuck on the third floor. We were paraded before her society friends when it suited her purposes. Otherwise, we were to be seen and not heard. Wait, let me correct that. We were to be not heard and not seen."
"Was she abusive?" Mike asked.
"Do you mean did she beat us? No, Det. Danko. But, the psychological abuse can be so much worse than anything she could hit us with. My father was gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time. So, he didn't see any of this. And, we didn't dare say anything when we did see him."
"If Elizabeth did kill Grace, why would she hide her body in a freezer?" Brinker asked as Margaret began to laugh.
"Do you know what cryogenics is?" She asked as both cops shook their heads. "It's freezing a body in the hopes that medical science can come up with a cure for whatever disease caused their death. Elizabeth's crazy. She probably stuck Grace in that freezer in the hope that medical science could cure her and bring her back to life someday."
"Do you know who Rosemary White is?" Brinker asked as the young woman's face went white.
"Rosemary White was my mother. How do you know her name?"
"Whoever rented the storage unit where the child was found used the name Rosemary White on the rental agreement," Brinker told her.
"Can I please see my sister?" She asked. "And, after that, can you please see if Alexandra is all right?"
Brinker and Mike got up and motioned for Margaret Smyth to follow them. The three of them went out to the unmarked as Brinker got behind the wheel and drove to the county hospital. When they arrived at the morgue, Jane Wells looked at them in surprise. "I haven't started the autopsy yet," she said as she noticed Margaret for the first time.
"This is Ms. Smyth. She thinks Janie Doe might be her sister Grace," Brinker explained.
"Come with me," Dr. Wells beckoned Margaret into the autopsy room and over to a table where the small child's body lay on a metal autopsy table covered with a white sheet. "Are you ready?"
Margaret nodded as the M.E. pulled the sheet past the little girl's face. Tears filled the young woman's eyes as she nodded. "It's Grace," she whispered as the doctor replaced the sheet. "Can you tell how she died without the autopsy?"
"No. I'm sorry, but I can't. I need to get some information," the doctor said as she picked up a clipboard. "What's your sister's full name?"
"Grace Townsend Smyth."
"Date of birth?"
"April 22, 1976."
After asking a few more questions, Dr. Wells let Margaret leave. She didn't say anything until they got into the car. "Are you going to arrest Elizabeth?" She asked as Brinker drove them back to the precinct.
"We're going to investigate and solve the murder," he answered. "If your stepmother is the murderer, then we'll arrest her."
"I have to call my father and let him know about Grace. Are you going to talk to Elizabeth?"
"As soon as we drop you off and get the address."
The address that Margaret gave them belonged to a palatial house in Brentwood. The house was three stories of stone, with velvety green lawns and large flower beds. It looked as if it could belong to a movie star. Brinker and Mike got out of the car and walked up to the front door and rang the bell. It was answered in seconds by a maid in the traditional black and white uniform. "May I help you?" The maid asked as she looked at both men.
"I'm Det. Lt. Brinker and this is Det. Sgt. Danko. We need to speak to Mrs. Smyth," Brinker said as they both showed their badges to the maid.
"Please wait here," she said as she shut the door in their faces.
They stood there for a good five minutes before the door re-opened and they found themselves face to face with a woman who appeared to be in her late 30's. She was dressed expensively in designer clothes, her hair and makeup obviously taken care of by professionals. "May I help you?"
"You can if you're Elizabeth Smyth," Brinker said as they re-introduced themselves and once again displayed their badges.
"Yes, I'm Elizabeth Townsend Smyth. May I ask what this is about?" She asked in an icy tone as she continued standing in the doorway.
"We need to talk to you regarding your daughter Grace. May we come in?"
"My husband is out of the country right now. I really think that I should wait until he returns," she said.
"Mrs. Smyth, we're going to do this one of two ways," Brinker warned her. "Either we talk now or I come back with a warrant."
Mrs. Smyth reluctantly stepped away from the door, allowing the two detectives to enter the house. Mike tried not to appear awestruck as she led them into a sitting room and closed the door behind them. The house had huge vaulted ceilings and was filled with antiques and rare paintings hanging on the walls. The sitting room furniture was stark white and looked too pristine to sit on. "Would you like some coffee?" She asked as they sat down.
"No, thank you," Brinker answered. "We'd like to ask you some questions about your daughter Grace."
Elizabeth Smyth had been expecting this visit for almost five months, but it was still shocking to hear of the reason why the police had come to her home. The story that she'd concocted and rehearsed over and over had started sounding so truthful that she almost found herself believing it. "What about her?" She asked in a silken voice.
"Did you happen to see the front page of the LOS ANGELES TIMES this morning?" Brinker asked as he took out his notepad.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Det. Lt. Steven Brinker. This is Det. Sgt. Michael Danko."
"Det. Lt. Brinker, the only part of the newspaper that interests me is the society page and then only when I'm in it," she said as she smoothed her linen skirt over her knees. "I have no interest in world events or even local events, for that matter."
"There was a child found inside a freezer in a storage unit. That child has been positively identified as your daughter Grace. Are you going to deny that you have a daughter named Grace?" Brinker asked sarcastically. What he really wanted to do was walk over and slap the smug society smile off of her face.
"No, I don't deny that I have a daughter named Grace. May I ask who identified her?"
"Your stepdaughter Margaret," Mike answered, speaking for the first time.
"Ahh yes, Maggie," she sighed. "Maggie doesn't like me. Did she tell you that?"
"No, ma'am. Can you please explain to us how Grace came to be discarded in a freezer like a side of beef?" Brinker asked.
"Did Maggie happen to mention her other sister?"
"Alexandra?" Mike asked as she nodded. "Yes ma'am, she did."
"Alexandra is a deeply disturbed child, detectives. She was five when I married her father and as she youngest child, she became quite used to having her father's attention all to herself. This all ended when I gave birth to Grace. Alexandra was almost nine at the time. Unfortunately, Grace was born with health problems that took her father's and my attention away from her and her sister. Alexandra would fly into these rages and try to hurt Grace," she looked at the detectives as she recited the tale she'd rehearsed in her head so many times over the past several months.
"Are you saying that Alexandra is the reason that Grace was in the freezer?" Brinker asked in stunned disbelief.
"Grace's nurse came into her room and found Alexandra standing over Grace holding a pillow over her face. By the time she came and got me, Grace was already blue. I absolutely came unhinged. I couldn't believe a child could be capable of something like this. My husband was out of the country, so I called him and told him what happened."
"What was his advice?" Mike asked.
"He told me that if I called the police, they'd take Alexandra and lock her up in some insane asylum where she'd never get out. He couldn't bear to have that happen. Alexandra was his world, much more so than Maggie or even Grace. He told me to somehow dispose of Grace's body and if anybody asked to tell them that we'd sent Grace to Philadelphia to live with her grandmother. After all, that's where the best children's hospital in the country is located. We knew that our friends would believe us."
"Why'd you use a false name when you rented the storage unit?" Mike asked.
"Because if I used my real name, the police would come and take Alexandra," she explained. "Right after it happened, I found a wonderful school for emotionally disturbed children. She's been there ever since."
"Where's this school?" Brinker asked.
"In Malibu. It's called The Everett Institute."
"Nice digs," Mike said under his breath as Brinker turned to glare at him. "Mrs. Smyth, we're going to need your permission to talk to Alexandra."
"I don't see what good can possibly come of that. As I said, Alexandra is severely emotionally disturbed."
"Ma'am, I don't care if her head spins around in circles and she spits pea soup at us, we need to talk to her. If you won't give us your permission, we'll get it from the D.A.'s office. Your stepdaughter is a possible suspect in a homicide," Mike warned her.
"Oh, very well," Mrs. Smyth huffed. "But, I'm telling you that she's been basically unresponsive since this happened. But if you want to talk to her, I guess that I can't stop you."
"One more thing," Brinker said as they stood up. "When is your husband coming back into the country?"
"I'm not sure," she hedged. "I guess that I can give you his number and you can ask him yourself."
They left the house and got back into the unmarked before Brinker started laughing. "What's so funny?" Mike asked as he looked at his partner.
"You are," Brinker admitted as he looked back at him. "'I don't care if her head spins around and she spits pea soup.' You're too funny. So, do you think the kid did it?"
"Honestly? No," Mike answered. "I think they're blaming it on the kid because they figure if she's charged, she'll be sentenced as a juvenile and get out of detention when she's 21 with a sealed record."
"I agree with you. When we get back to the precinct, call up the D.A. and get an advocate assigned to the girl. Ask for Serena Hall, if she's available. She's wonderful at what she does," Brinker said as Mike nodded, writing down the name is his notebook. "If she goes to talk to the kid, I want you to go with her. I don't like interviewing kids."
"How do I go about it if Alexandra is as disturbed as her stepmother says she is?"
"Just do the best that you can."
When Mike got back to the precinct, he made his phone calls. He was told that Ms. Hall was out of the office, so Mike left both his work and home numbers for her to call him back. "Are you going to call Margaret Smyth back?" He asked after he got off of the phone.
"No, I'm tied up here. Why don't you do it?" Brinker suggested as Mike shrugged and dialed her number.
Margaret didn't want to talk over the phone, so Mike suggested that they meet at a small deli near the University. She agreed, so they made a date. "I'm going to meet Margaret Smyth for lunch," Mike said as he hung up the phone.
"Sexy. Just don't tell your old lady," Brinker said as Mike rolled his eyes. "I just called the morgue and found out that the autopsy is underway. I should know something when you get back."
"Great," Mike said as he grabbed his suit jacket and left the area.
***MJMJMJ***
Margaret was waiting at a table when Mike entered the deli 45 minutes later. "Did you talk to Elizabeth?" She asked as a waiter came up and took Mike's lunch order as he sat down.
"Yes, we did. She told my partner and me that Alexandra smothered Grace with a blanket. The baby nurse caught her in the act," Mike blurted the accusation straight out.
"Are you kidding?" Margaret shrieked as she put down her coffee cup. "That's not possible!"
"Ms. Smyth . . . "
"Please call me Maggie."
"Maggie, anything's possible."
"No, you don't understand. There was no baby nurse. I mean, there used to be, but Elizabeth got rid of her sometime in October or November of last year. I remember Alexandra telling me about it. Besides, Alexandra adored Grace. She'd never hurt her. Did she say anything about the school where she's sent my sister?"
"Yes, she said that she sent her to a school for emotionally disturbed children after the incident. It's called The Everett Institute and it's located in Malibu."
"Detective . . . "
"Sergeant," Mike corrected her.
"Sergeant, my sister is not emotionally disturbed. She has an IQ of 155. She's only 12 years old, but she's already scored a perfect 1600 on the SAT's. My mother used to call her a freak of nature because she could read when she was two years old. I mean, I'm smart, but she outshines me by a mile. She's not disturbed," she repeated.
"Well, we're trying to get an advocate assigned to her so that we can question her about what happened. Hopefully that'll happen in a day or two. Do you have a problem with us questioning her?"
"No, not at all. Do you think you can get her released from that place?"
"We're certainly going to try."
***MJMJMJ***
That evening Jill and Jen were visiting in the Danko's kitchen while the kids played in the living room. "Jill, I was thinking," Jen began as the phone rang.
"Hold that thought," Jill said as she walked over and answered the phone. "Hello?"
"May I speak to Sgt. Danko, please?" A woman's voice asked over the line.
"He's not here right now, but I expect him at any time. May I ask whose calling?" Jill asked as she grabbed the message pad by the phone.
"My name is Serena Hall. I work for the D.A.'s office. I'm returning his phone call from this afternoon. Tell him that he can reach me at this number until seven o'clock," Ms. Hall said as she gave Jill the phone number.
"I'll let him know," Jill said as the call ended. "Now, what were you saying?" She turned her attention back to Jen.
"I was thinking that instead of you having to haul Mary Kate to either daycare or your in-law's every morning that I could watch her instead. It'll give me practice for the day when I'm having to chase two kids," Jen suggested.
"I don't know, Jennifer. I mean, you're pregnant now and you tire easily. Mary Kathryn's like a white tornado. She can demolish a room in a matter of seconds."
"So can Thomas," Jen smiled. "Please, Jill? I want to do this."
"I'll tell you what. We'll try it on a test basis and see how things go. But, if she's too much for you, I want you to tell me. Will you do that?" Jill asked as she heard the garage door open, as did Mary Kathryn, who came running into the kitchen.
"Daddy!" Mary Kate shouted as she jumped into Mike's arms as Thomas grabbed him around his legs.
"Whoa! I didn't know we'd inherited another kid," Mike said as he grabbed Thomas into his arms as well before walking over and kissing Jill. "Hi."
"Hi," she smiled. "You have a message to call a Serena Hall. Her number is by the phone."
"Great!" Mike said as he walked over and looked at the number before putting the kids on the floor. "I really need to make this call. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"I need to get home, anyway," Jen announced as she got up. "Come on, Thomas. Let's go cook dinner for your daddy. So, are you going to bring Mary Kate over in the morning?"
"You're sure that you want to do this?"
"I'm positive. If it doesn't work, you can go back to doing things the way you were," Jen told her friend as she took Thomas by the hand.
"Then, I'll bring her over in the morning," Jill agreed as she walked Jen and Thomas to the door.
Upstairs, Mike dialed the number that Jill had written on the notepad. Serena Hall answered on the first ring. "Sgt. Danko?"
"Yes, this is he. Is this Ms. Hall?"
"Yes, it is. I'm an advocate for the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts. I've contacted the school that Alexandra Smyth attends. The headmistress or principal or whatever you want to call her is Mrs. Wheeler. She told me over the phone that she doesn't really know why Alexandra is at the Everett Institute. But, every time she speaks to Mrs. Smyth about releasing her, she gets a song and dance."
"Have you set up a meeting so that we can talk to the girl?" Mike asked as Jill entered the room with Mary Kate in her arms.
"Tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock. Is that convenient for you?"
"That's fine. Do you want me to just meet you there?"
"That'll be fine. I'll be dressed in red. But, if there's more than one woman dressed in red, I'll be the dark-skinned one. I'll see you tomorrow."
"What's that all about?" Jill asked as she sat on the bed and Mary Kathryn climbed over her to get to her father.
"We identified the dead girl," he said as he took Mary Kate. "I really don't want to say more than that right now."
"So, who's this woman that you're meeting tomorrow?" She teased him.
"She's a children's advocate. We're meeting the dead child's sister," he explained as the doorbell rang. "Dollars to donuts, that's either Terry or Willie at the door. Take her and let whoever it is in while I take a quick shower."
Jill removed Mary Kathryn from Mike's arms and went downstairs to answer the door. Both guys were standing there, Willie holding a six-pack in his hand. "You'd better call your wife. She left here a few minutes ago to cook you dinner," she warned Willie as they entered the house.
"I told her that I wasn't going to stay long. Where's Mike?" He asked as they followed Jill out to the back patio, where the heat blasted them in the face.
"Taking a shower. He'll be down in a few minutes," she said as she sat put Mary Kathryn down on the ground and watched her run over to the swing set.
"Has he said anything about the little girl?" Terry asked as he watched Mary Kate.
"All he's said so far is they have identified her and he's supposed to be going tomorrow morning to talk to her sister with a children's advocate. I'm sorry, but I really don't know anything more than that. He told me that he'd tell me more later."
"It's strange not seeing him in uniform out there with us," Terry said as Willie handed him a beer and he popped it opened.
"It should be the three of you working together on this," Jill mused as she looked at the two of them.
"Now you sound like Ryker," Willie smiled as he opened his beer as the sliding door opened and Mike stepped out.
"Who sounds like Ryker?" Mike sat down as Willie handed him a beer.
"Jill. She said that it should be the three of us working on the kid in the freezer. It's strange seeing you with a permanent partner. How's he working out?" Willie asked.
"He's a good guy. He actually lets me ask questions. By the way, the little girl's name is Grace Smyth and she wasn't quite three years old when she was murdered."
"Do you know who killed her?"
"No, not yet, although we do have suspects. That's why I'm going to talk to the sister with the children's advocate tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll get some answers."
"How old is the sister?" Jill asked.
"Twelve," Mike sighed as he drained his beer. "It's a depressing story and I really don't want to talk about it right now."
A/N: Sorry that this chapter ran so long. That seems to happen a lot with my stories. The chapters develop lives of their own.