Chapter Thirty-Two
Emily
My sister left a few days ago, which was nice but at the same time I miss her because she's my sister and I'm not used to getting to see her and then not for a while.
I wake up and Don isn't next to me. I sit up and I find his shirt on one of the posters on the bed. I slip it on and I walk out of my room to find him still gone. Must be out getting food or something. I turn my music on and I start to re-flat iron my hair, bangs specifically.
I hear the door shut and Don say, "Double lattes, hot and ready." I walk out to find him tossing his keys down onto the table, a tray of two coffees for us on it, and him looking for something. "Hey, you do sugar right?" I hear. I slide up to him and I press my lips to the back of his neck.
"Babe, I have a better idea for a wake up call," I say as he turns and his arms wrap around my waist and he holds me there. I kiss him. He pushes me against the wall.
"Hmm, coffees going to get cold." I shrug.
"Microwave." I pull on his hand and I pull him into the bedroom and I push him onto the bed and I climb on top of him.
"Again?" He asks.
"Shut up." I press my lips to his. We kiss until his phone rings.
"That's my phone, isn't it?"
"Mhmm. Damn it," I say. I press my lips back to his and he loves it till he has to pull away.
"I got to get that." I sneakily snap the cuff onto his wrist and then the poster behind him connected to the bed. He smirks.
"Don't make me cuff your other hand," I say.
"That's good work detective."
I chuckle and kiss him again. "You know what calling me detective does to me when you say it." He moans his disappointment.
"I got to get it, okay?" I kiss him until he is reaching over me to get it.
"Oh man," I say when I fall onto the other side of the bed to wait for him.
"Flack." And just that turns me on because he's saying it. "Yeah, go ahead. Sure. Send it." He hangs up.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Homicide around the corner. Some guy e-mailed a photo to the precinct tip line. Headquarters is forwarding it to me now." I take his phone and it beeps in my hand. The picture of a dead body pops up and it's serious.
"Oh. You got to go." I pout.
"Yeah, huh?" I nod. "Guess what Detective Flack." I let out a shaky breath because I'm so turned on right now. "You get to come, with me." Disappointment must evident on my face. "What? Don't like dead body first thing in the morning?"
"When you said 'you get to come' I was secretly praying you meant the other one." I get up and I walk past him into the closet. "I'm in the stage of my pregnancy where everything is turning me on and you could just shake my hand and I'll get turned on. It's a very bad time in my pregnancy with our schedules." I feel his arms wrap around my waist.
"You know if we're quick about it," he kisses my neck. "I'm sure that we can..." And again. "cure that for you." I let him take over and we get out the door in about twenty minutes with our coffees and I call that a plus.
I finish taking photos of the crime scene and I search around the room for evidence. I'm in a very happy mood. I didn't know that things could get off so fast. Guess that's what happens when your horny and your husband works his ass off to make you feel better when you ask to have sex.
"His name's Marshall Baxter," I say when I see Don and Mac come in.
"He works here at the theater's vocal studio. Picture and address were e- mailed to the precinct's anonymous tip line. Traced the IP address to an internet cafe on the Upper West Side. Got a uni headed over there now," Don finishes.
"Looks like he took a bullet to the chest. No stippling or GSR around the wound. Medium range."
"No sign of a gun," I say.
"What kind of killer photographs his crime and then e-mails it to the cops?" Mac asks. Kind of obvious.
"A showoff," Don says. "Someone who thinks he's smarter than us."
"We're about to prove him wrong," Mac says. Stella and Hawkes come in and I start picking off pieces of evidence from the body. Like a hair and something else hard. I check the door handle and no prints.
Hawkes tests the body temperature.
"86. Puts TOD roughly eight hours ago. Right around midnight," he tells Mac.
"Did you get anything?" Stella asks me. I shake my head. "No prints in the door handle." Stella walks to the wall when something catches her eye. "Looks like someone threw a punch right into this wall." I go over to the body.
"No bruises or lacerations on our vic's hands," I tell her. Mac stands above me and looks at his phone then the scene.
"Killer took the photo from right about here."
"Hey, Mac," I hear Don. "This is James Copeland. He's the director of the theater."
"Said something happened?" Mac takes a slight step over to the side. "What the hell? That's Marshall." He goes to move and I stand up.
"Well, hang on a second there, bud," I say as Don catches him.
"This is my theater."
"Might be your theater, but it's my crime scene," Mac says.
"All right, how about you and I go outside and talk, okay?" I say. I look to Don and he's going to come with me. Thank goodness. "Who was Marshall to you?" I ask.
"Marshall Baxter was our voice coach, and he also used that rehearsal space for private lessons."
"Who was here last night around midnight?" I ask.
"Uh, nobody. We did a rehearsal of Don Giovanni, seven to ten. Theater was empty by 11:00."
"Where were you?"
"At a party with some of our actors. Got home around 2:00."
I point to his hand. "Bruise on your hand looks recent. Did you get that at the party?" I ask. "Maybe you took a shot at the wall." I suggest. Nothing. "Come on, James. Don't make me ask twice."
"Okay. Baxter parked in my spot every single day. My spot. With my name on it."
"So you dropped by to give him a general reminder," I say.
"I tried to be reasonable with the guy. It just got a little out of hand."
"Well, who could blame you? A parking spot in this city's worth killing for," Don says with a sarcastic undertone. But we all know it's true.
"True, but I didn't kill him."
"We'll need a list of Baxter's clients and everyone who works here," I say.
"Hey, nobody here did this. Who's gonna shoot somebody in a theater?"
"Did you ever hear of a guy named John Wilkes Booth?" Don asks. So he has been listening to me while I tell Thomas stories. Hm. I'll have to mention that.
I test the dirt that Mac found by the door and it's a weird one.
"Emily?"
"Hey. The dirt we found at the crime scene- Lapilli tephra."
"Volcanic ash? From somewhere in the South Pacific."
"Which means it probably wasn't tracked in on the killer's shoes."
"Yeah, and it wasn't his hair we found on the victim's shirt, either. It's from a Himalayan yak. Used to make rugs, blankets, brushes."
"Volcanic ash and yak hair. Could be looking at someone in the import/export business or works in a museum, or who knows what else." His phone starts to ring. "Taylor. I'll be right there." He hangs up. He motions for me to follow.
As we walk I bring up the case. "I wanna go to the South Pacific. I've only ever been to the North part." He smiles slightly. "You do too Mac. I know you do." He rolls his eyes. We walk to the morgue and I see Sid and I smile and wave.
"Marshall Baxter's COD was exsanguination due to a puncture in the aortic arch, and it appears our killer removed the bullet." Mac examines it.
"Looks like he dug it out with some kind of sharp instrument."
"Why remove the bullet but leave all that other trace behind?" I ask.
"There's something else. Based on the TOD at the scene, he should be out of rigor by now, but as you can see, he's not."
"So, then, the body must have been exposed to cold postmortem? Crime scene was room temp when we got there, no A/C."
"Is it possible the reading was off? No offense to Sheldon," Sid says.
"Sid, I watched him double-check it," I tell him. "Liver temp put him at 86 degrees. There was no error."
"Okay. There's another option. Somehow, someone deliberately lowered the body temp of our vic." Mac says and I shrug.
"Okay Mac, I'm going to test something else. Come back to me in a bit."
I walk into the lab and Danny calls me over. "Hey, what do the Brooklyn Bruisers, asphalt trace, and motor oil have in common?" Danny asks. "They all are found in the game of bike polo."
"Okay."
"Same as regular polo, except they ride bikes instead of horses," Danny says, looking at the page up on the computer of the Brooklyn Bruisers. "They put these cards in the spokes to identify who they are on the court." He hands me the card.
"What's with the number on the back?" I ask.
"I'm thinking that may be a link between bike polo and murder. Give it a ring." I punch in the numbers, 917-555-0189, into my cell and it rings once.
"Hello. Welcome to the Rejection Call Line. The reason you're hearing this recorded greeting is because the person who gave you this phone number wants nothing to do with you." Danny laughs as do I. "To speak with a specialist who will guide you through this hard time of heartache and pain, press 1."
"Okay. The Rejection Call Line?"
"Hell of a way to give somebody the slip, huh?"
"Yeah. I guess our vic asked out the wrong girl."
"I'm not so sure it was our vic who got the brush-off. A team photo of the Brooklyn Bruisers. There's no Marshall Baxter in sight."
"Huh. Then who's #2?"
"Wanna come with me to check it out?"
"Uhm yes." I waddle out of there with Danny.
"I'm kind of glad your pregnant," Danny blurts out in the elevator when we walk in. I look at him. "I still get to see the final stages of pregnancy even though Lindsay is in Montana."
"Oh. Yeah, it must make life easier. When the baby is born though, we are going to have to baby sit each others kids. Two screaming and crying babies in the same room." Danny looks at me with excitement. "Good luck bud."
We get to the park where these games are held and we walk up to one of the players on the side line. We flash our badges.
"Uh, we'd like to borrow him for a second," I say pointing at the man in front of us. And he was with a girl too. "Ask a few questions."
"Sure." She walks away.
"Have you see this man before?" I ask.
"This is him," Danny says holding up the photo.
"Nope, never seen him."
"How about this?" I ask holding up the spoke card in an evidence bag. "This spoke card belong to you?"
"I don't, uh no, I don't I don't think so."
"You don't seem so sure about that, number two," Danny says looking at his shirt which clearly says what player he is.
"Yeah, we found this in a murder victim's pocket," I tell him.
"Look, I've never seen that guy, and I don't have a clue how he got my spoke card, okay?"
"You just said that wasn't your spoke card," Danny points out.
"You know, maybe we should take him in," I threaten.
"No, no, just-just wait. Just give me a second. Um look, I've seen this girl around campus. Chelsea University." He gets in real close as to not let his girlfriend hear. "The other day, I see her on the street. I ask her for her number. She writes it on the back of my spoke card." He turns to his girlfriend. "But I never called her- I swear."
"Whatever."
"No, babe. I swear I never called her."
"Might want to buy her some flowers," Danny points out.
"Okay, Gavin, what does all this have to do with the man in the photo?"
"After she gave me her number, that guy in the picture comes running at me from across the street. He rips the card from my hand and starts yelling at me to stay away from his girlfriend."
"That girl- what's her name?"
"Odessa. I don't know her last name. Look, all I know is that she goes to Chelsea University and she's hot. What do you want from me?"
"All right, Romeo. If you see her, you tell her we're looking for her. No, as a matter of fact, why don't you give her my number?" Danny says, handing him his business card.
Later in the day some pretty surprising information comes up and turns out dry ice was used to cool the body. And Stella thinks that the girl killed Marshall and learned how to do it during one of the classes that Stella teaches. Mac and I go to see the owner and manager of the theater where the body was found.
"Mr. Copeland, who else has access to the dry ice?" I ask.
"Dry ice?"
"The thing that makes that white smoky stuff," I say.
"I know this may be out of your wheelhouse, but we're doing a little opera by Mozart. It's called Don Giovanni. Now, there's a scene in that that requires fog."
"Watch the attitude, Mr. Copeland," I say, my mom voice coming out again.
"The cemetery scene with Commendatore," Mac says, recognizing the scene. As do I since in college I took a couple lit classes and it was definitely worth my time, effort, and money. What didn't I do in college? I took a class for everything. It was all worth it in my experience.
"Look, I'll admit it. I- I didn't care for Marshall. He was a stubborn, moody, self-centered hack. Nobody here liked him. Why do you keep coming back to me?"
"Because you punched a hole in his wall; you were here the night of the murder; and you had access to the crime scene. Now, I know it's out of your wheelhouse, but to us, that makes you a suspect."
"I already told you I was at a party."
"We now have evidence that Baxter was murdered several hours later than we originally thought. Where were you at 5:00 in the morning?" Mac asks.
"Nursing a hangover from that party."
"Can anyone verify that?"
"Yeah, my cat," he says sarcastically. I really want to scold him. Must be my mom instincts coming out again.
"That wouldn't happen to be a Blackberry, would it?" Mac asks looking at the phone in the little pocket of his jeans.
"Yeah, why?"
" 'Cause someone took a photo of our vic after they put a bullet in him. Maybe that someone was you."
"That's insane."
"I hope you have someone changing Fluffy's litter box, 'cause if you're lying, you'll be going away for a while," I say, mom voice definitely coming out.
I head to the precinct for lunch with Don. We are sharing the leftovers from dinner the night before for lunch. We eat and talk.
"So I was standing there just listening to the words coming out of his mouth and they got so snooty and sarcastic. I just wanted to stand there and scold him. 'I know this may be out of your wheelhouse...' like who the hell stands there and insults an officer like that? I get that I've been doing this for ten plus years but damn, if looks could kill, well babe, I'd be giving birth in jail," I rant.
Don chuckles. "Sounds like you need a hug."
"I do. And this baby isn't helping. He loves to kick. Maybe he'll end up being a soccer player."
"All right after lunch you and I are going to go to the vic's apartment to search for things." I nod.
"Looks like Baxter was a real packrat," I say.
"You think this is bad, you should see Adam's place," Don cringes. I set my kit down and I look around.
"Maybe there's something here that can tell us why somebody wanted him dead. Phone bill, receipts, mail." I walk into the back room while Don looks on the table. I turn my flashlight on and I look at the books on the floor, posters on the walls, then in the closet. Something on his nightstand catches my eye. Photos. I grab them and turn them over, looks like postcards. I put them down and the ground catches my eye.
I croutch down and I find a box. I open it and find more pictures. Pictures of the same two women.
"You find something?" Don asks as he walks in.
"Maybe. All these photos are the same two women."
"Looks of things, I don't think they knew they were being photographed."
"Mmm. More like surveillance photos. Like they were being watched."
"You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Could be Marshall Baxter's a stalker. And these could be his victims."
"I'll run 'em through NCIC, see if anyone filed a complaint."
I nod. "All right." I look at the pictures and Don sees the troubled look on my face.
"What's wrong Em?"
"This all looks just like JD's apartment back in Seattle." Don looks at me, surprised I'm bring this up. "These photos of these girls reminded me of what it was like to find out that I had a stalker."
"But you don't any more. He's in jail now, prison actually."
"Is that why you had his file? To find out if he was in jail or prison?"
"No. When did you see his file?"
"When my sister was still in town. You had it on your desk so I looked through it and it was all about him." No response. "I'm not mad, I'm just confused."
"Truth is, I had it because he actually contacted you, he wrote you a letter, and it was delivered to me in the precinct rather that you in the lab. I think it's cause all that was written on the envelope was Flack. But I opened it and it was a letter requesting that you see him."
"I won't go. Besides the fact that I got a court order to be sent to him so he is not aloud within a hundred yards of me. In court it's different because there will be cops every where and he couldn't hurt me even if he tried."
"Em, it's all okay now. You're safe."
I nod. "I know, I know. I'm sorry to bring this drama of mine into your life."
"Hey, it's our life now, okay? I love you."
"I love you too Donnie." I hug him and then I go get my kit.
I run some tests on the box and the pictures in the lab and then run back down to the precinct.
"Hey," I say walking up to Don.
"Hey. Well, you were right. Baxter was arrested four years ago in Providence, Rhode Island for aggravated assault."
"Sounds like stalking to me," I say. I look over Don's shoulder. "Ah, he got slapped with five days of community service and a restraining order."
"And that didn't seem to slow him down. He was arrested again a week later for criminal contempt in the first degree."
"Okay, so he must have violated the restraining order."
"And for that, the judge gave him eight days in jail." I roll my eyes.
"Eight days. Hell of a deterrent."
"Problem is although stalking may be a crime, the things stalkers do are perfectly legal. You know, there's no laws against taking pictures, sending e- mails, or using the phone. Just like it wasn't illegal for JD to send you the letter."
"Yeah, but it's just wrong. People have the right to walk down the street and feel safe," I tell Don.
"Hey, I spend every day of my life trying to fix that," He reassures me.
"I know. We put away the bad guys, but what about the victims? Who fixes them?" Don looks at me, sorrow in his eyes. "I'm a perfect example. I lost a part of myself. I just got lucky that I had dozens of people looking out for me so I always knew I was going to be safe." I sigh. "We know who filed the complaint against Baxter?" I ask.
"No, not yet. I gotta call in to Providence PD. I'm just waiting to hear back on a name."
"Let me know as soon as you hear something."
"Yeah."
"Don, as soon as I'm done in the lab, you and I should go to dinner somewhere quiet and talk, okay? I want to talk about something with you."
"Yeah, course. Where do you want to go?"
"Somewhere quiet, please." He smiles.
"Okay, I'm off the clock in an hour. That enough time?"
"Always is. I love you."
"I love you too." I kiss his cheek and I walk away.
"Her name's Carrie Langdon. She filed a restraining order against Baxter four years ago in Rhode Island," I tell Mac.
"Could she have been one of Stella's forensics students?"
"She's not our killer, Mac. Carrie committed suicide about six months ago," I tell Mac as I stand in his office showing him pictures and poice reports that Don brought up for me. He's waiting in my office. "It's not a total wash, though. According to Rhode Island police, her brother recently filed a lawsuit against them."
"For failure to protect. He blames them for his sister's suicide."
"Maybe he decided to finish what the law couldn't," I suggest. "All right. I'm off. I need to sit down. Don and I have dinner plans." Mac nods.
"Thanks for being a trooper through this. I know that since this case turned stalker you've not run out screaming."
"Course. I know what it's like to have a stalker and not have anyone able to legally do anything. Everything he did was perfectly legal, it was just creepy and nasty. He's in jail now. Speaking of, meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?" I ask.
"Course, regular spot?" I nod. "Have a good night."
"You too Mac." I walk out and I go to my office. I hang up my lab coat as I walk in to find Don leaning back in my chair. "Ready?" I ask. He nods and gets up. I walk to the elevators with Don, well it's actually more like wobbling. "This baby is becoming too much for me. I don't like being a million months pregnant."
"Yes you do. You know you love being pregnant." I smile.
We take our seats at the table in the restaurant.
"So I wanted to talk to you about what you told me earlier."
"Which was?"
"About JD. How you got that letter."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before. I knew that the way you'd react would be bad. I didn't want to stress you out even more."
"I understand why and I love you so much for it. I just want to know what it said. Do you still have it?"
"It's at home." I nod.
"All right. Let's just have a nice dinner and be one of those annoying couples that is off in their own little world of laughing and being in love."
Don smirks. "I can do that." He reaches across the table and grasps my hand.
"So how was work?" I ask.
"Good, I got to spend a majority of my day with my gorgeous wife."
"Oh really? And what happened?"
"We found a dead body; searched an apartment; had amazing, mind-blowing sex."
"Sounds great! Especially that last little bit."
"It was."
I'm laying in bed when I feel the comforter lift up and I feel Don climb in behind me and wrap his arms around me. We are both naked, because we both prefer sleeping naked unless it's a hotel or somewhere we both don't trust.
"You're warm," he says.
"Your toes are cold," I say as he presses them into my calves. I giggle. I turn over and I see his face. He turns and grabs something off of his nightstand.
"I got the letter for you." I take it.
'Dear little birdy,
You've been harsh. I just wanted to show you the world, that life under the sea is better. Please come visit me. I'm just a prince in disguise.
-J.D.R.'
"Why did he quote three disney movies?"
"What's the third one?"
"Prince in disguise. Beauty and the Beast. Beauty and the Beast is my favorite Disney movie of all time."
"I knew that." I smile.
"All right, so we just need to crack the code and figure out what to do from here." I turn and I put the letter on my nightstand. "I'll take it in tomorrow to test it." Don nods. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"Hey Mac," I say when I see him.
"Emily." He kisses my cheek.
"Let's drink this inside, I don't want another eye dropping into my coffee." Mac laughs.
"Sounds good. What did you need to speak with me about?"
"JD Rodgers." Mac is intrigued. "Don told me yesterday that he sent me a letter and it got delivered to Don instead. JD wants a meeting with me. I'm not going to go but I just wanted you to know and I've got the letter with me now." I hand it to him. "I'm gonna test it for prints to see if he even wrote it." Mac handles it gentley.
"Emily, I'm with you and Flack on this one, you can't go see him."
"Well I found a sympathetic judge to give me an order of protection so I legally can't see him."
"Good. Why did he put in the two Disney movie quotes?"
"Oh the prince in disguise one is from Beauty and the Beast. But I don't know why it's relevant."
"All right, let's go back to the lab."
Mac and I head to the lab to test some more thing for the case we are working and so I can find prints. And I find several prints, of which I took out mine, Mac's, and Don's. I test the envelope and I get the post man's prints. But out of all of this I don't get JD's. I run a swab on the underside of the envelope and I test it only to find that it was water that was used to seal it. Who the hell sent me this?
"Mac," I say catching up to him as I'm leaving to go with Don to Rhode Island to talk to a victim's brother who is filing a lawsuit against the Rhode Island PD. "No prints came back to JD and water was used to seal the envelope." He sighs.
"I'll run additional tests and I'll see what I can come up with. Go with Flack to talk to Mr. Langdon." I nod. I see Don waiting for me at the elevator. I smile and I walk with him into it.
On our way there, Don and I start talking.
"So did you find anything?"
"Nothing. Water was used to seal the envelope and no prints. Mac is running additional tests." He sighs.
Don says something in a different language. "I'm sorry."
"Oh it's fine. I'm with you. By the way, what was that?"
"Irish," he blushes a bit.
"Don, that was hot."
"What, me speaking Irish? Nah."
"Don you know how you get when I speak French? That's how I feel when you speak a different language. I had no clue what you said but it was hot."
"Whoa, my Emily doesn't know what something is? She's completely clueless? That never happens!"
"Babe, you should teach me. I could have learned. I just never took an interest. Now I have one."
"Why cause I speak it?"
"You're the only one that could ever make me gain an interest in something the first couple of times I ever hear it." Don smiles.
"Thanks Em."
"Course."
"How's Thomas?"
"Good. Speaking of, when Anna was here she read him a book, a couple actually, and I promised him a while ago that I'd get you to read to him too. Or tell him a story at least."
Don smiles. "Okay, I'll tell him one now. So once upon a time, mommy and daddy were working together on a case and this was before mommy switched to the crime lab and we started dating a few weeks prior. The vic was a bad, bad man. He scammed people out of their money."
"Oh is this the one where..."
"Em, you'll give it away. Sh." I laugh. "All right now back to where I was," Don says taking a turn. "He was delusional and believed very strongly in God. So strongly that he built an ark." I smile at his choice of story. "We get to the house and it doesn't seem like anything is wrong if you're looking straight at it but when you go inside there passages from different bibles written on the wall and the body on the floor. When you go to the back yard, there's a giant boat. I don't know how I missed it because I'm the taller one between your mother and I and she's the one who saw it first."
I remember that.
Flashback
"Hey Don," I say catching his attention.
"'Hm?"
"Look," I say pointing up at the giatn boat behind the house.
"Who we gotta show Mac. This is crazy!"
"Definitely going to be a crazy story to tell the kids. Whoever has them first."
"Whoever has 'em first she said. Turns out it's at the same time." Smirking I take his hand and hold it to my belly showing him that Thomas is kicking. "He is fiesty." I nod. "Any how, the whole thing was a scam and he had believers actually in the boat and they had been for days. There were monkeys and tigers."
"And people, oh my," I say. Don laughs.
"And people too. He had these people pay him $100,000 each couple to help him build the boat. It hadn't rained in, what? A month?" He asks me.
"More than that. We had a lot of ouside dates around that time, I remember." Don smiles and grasps my hand.
"After we talked to them, they asked if they could get back on. Any how Thomas, it was a scam but at the same time, he didn't realize that it was because he really thought the world was ending that Sunday. The person who killed him, killed him because she didn't believe he was the victim of a scam this time and one of his passengers gave him fake dollar bills and so she killed him. It was a tough case to crack but we got it."
"And that Sunday it did rain." Don unclasps my hand and places it on my belly. "He's stopped kicking," I tell him. "I think he's sleeping."
"You can sleep if you want. We've got another two hours before we get there."
"I'm okay. I think I'm just going to savior the few minutes I have where he isn't moving and kicking." Don laughs.
"The lawsuit won't bring my sister back. But maybe it'll change the system. Protect other women."
"Mr. Langdon, I'm sorry. I know that your sister's suicide must be a terrible weight to bear."
"I don't think of it as suicide. I think of it as murder," He tells us. "Carrie might have jumped off the ledge, but Marshall Baxter put her there."
"According to this restraining order, Baxter began stalking your sister four years ago," I say as Don takes it out. He motions for us to follow him to the couches.
"Carrie took a voice lesson from him. And somehow in his twisted mind, that meant she was his girlfriend. I convinced her to file that. Thought it would scare him off. But I was wrong. It made it worse. He started threatening her. She was terrified to go outside, to answer her phone."
"And how long that go on for?" I ask.
"Two years. And then one day, it suddenly stopped. It was like a miracle. He was gone. Carrie could breathe again. She could live her life without having to look over her shoulder. That's what I thought anyway. Till she jumped." He pauses. "She never recovered from the stalking. The cops claimed they couldn't arrest Baxter until he committed an act of violence. An act of violence? What do you call destroying someone's soul?"
"Some would call it motive," Don says.
"I wondered why you two came all the way up here from New York City to discuss a suicide. I thought about killing Baxter. I admit it. Didn't have the guts, I guess."
"Then you won't mind telling me where you were last night?" Don asks softly.
"At a restaurant opening here in Providence. Spent the night at my girlfriend's."
"Did you ever take a class or attend a lecture at Chelsea University in New York?" Don asks.
He gets up. "We're done here." We stand with him. "I haven't set foot inside a school since Carried graduated five years ago. Now, if you're going to arrest me go ahead; otherwise you can contact my attorney."
"Mr. Langdon I am truly sorry for your loss. We both have sisters, too, so."
"Don't ever take that for granted." We leave and get back to New York three hours later.
"Shall I take you to the lab?" Don asks as we cross state lines.
"Uh, let's..." I hear my phone ringing. "Hello?"
"Hey Seattle, wanna do something for me?"
"Sure. Text me the details." I hang up. "Precinct. We've got things to look up and people to talk to." Don nods.
We go to the crime lab later in the day and Don and Danny talk to Mac while I go to my office to sit down and eat some crackers in my drawer. I get curious and end up finding the prison's name and number where JD is staying, on my computer. I punch in the number on my office phone and I wait.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Detective Emily Flack and I was wondering if I may speak with the post man who deals with the inmates, specifically inmate John-Darwin Rodgers better known as JD Rodgers?"
"Of course Detective, I'll link you to him."
"Thank you." I'm put on hold as Don walks in.
"Hey, I'm going to get lunch, want anything?" He asks. I put my finger up, silencing him.
"Uh, just bring me back whatever sounds good. I love you." I blow him a kiss and I go back to the phone as I'm off hold.
"Hello?"
"Hi, I'm Detective Emily Flack and I was wondering if you happened to take any mail from inmate JD Rodgers, a letter addressed to a Flack."
"Uh, not that I can recall. I did pick up one from another inmate addressed to a Flack." I get out a sticky note and a pen and I write down the name. "His name was uh, David Oka."
"David Oka is in a Maximum Security Prison?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Okay, well thank you for your help."
"Anytime ma'am." I hang up. I bury my face in my hands.
"Great," I say to myself.
So Mac and Stella get the guy, rather girl, who killed our vic. She was also being stalked heavily by him and she defended herself, but it was still murder. I felt bad for her and I never got a chance to talk to her like I wanted to but Mac did and he mentioned me and how I was stalked as well. I guess she took it to heart.
