Dolan sat down on the plush sofa in Katherine's office, trying hard not to feel like he was on enemy territory or, worse, about to receive psychiatric treatment. With his dislike of doctors only surpassed by his outright hatred of hospitals, he was really anything but in his element. He tried to find a comfortable position. Elizabeth sat at the other end of the sofa and Katherine across from her in her wing chair. She was waiting for her sister to speak. Dolan wished he could have held this meeting in the BPD.
"First of all, Doctor," the sergeant began, "I need your assurance that anything we discuss will remain between us."
Elizabeth groaned softly and rolled her eyes.
"I'm a psychiatrist, Sergeant," Katherine replied, clasping her hands together. "I can keep a secret."
Liz pressed her lips together and lowered her head so the sergeant couldn't, or barely, see her spreading grin.
"Okay," said Dolan, who had decided to forgo his usual sarcasm. "The rest of the conditions in a moment, then. Doc, you're not allowed to set foot in BPD. Rizzoli, this is the last time you're coming into this hospital until we're done."
Elizabeth drew her eyebrows together. "Why not?", she asked.
"Because of all the media attention for your case last year. Boston is full of blabbermouths," Dolan replied. "So far, we've managed to keep the media from getting scent of this, and we need to keep it that way, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Katherine replied seriously. While neither she nor her sister liked the terms, as a price for being admitted to the big show, they were acceptable.
"What's the next step?" asked Elizabeth.
"We have to find some kind of base for the two of you," Dolan explained. "It can't be here like I said, and I can't put you guys in BPD either."
"We can work at our parents' house," Elizabeth suggested, to Katherine's surprise. "There's more than enough room, and during the day our parents are at work, so we won't be disturbed. And selfishly, I can be there when the girls get out of school. So I save the money on a babysitter, too."
"That's not selfish," Katherine assured her sister. "And I agree."
"So do I", Dolan said, surprised at how easily everything resolved. "Rizzoli, your cover story is simple," he continued. "You take a two-week leave of absence that doesn't count against you. I'll have the files on Rosa Castillo and the two unknown victims taken by Savarese to your parents' house. Savarese is your intermediary, the link between us. He will get you what you need in terms of documents and will take care of all the other gears for you. Under no circumstances are you to question people, conduct surveillance, or do any other police work on the street. And one more thing, no electronic communication about the case. Emails, messages, all prohibited. We can't have any traceable digital footprints in case the whole case blows up in our faces. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Sergeant," Elizabeth replied, "but how will Savarese feel as our errand boy. We already have Ross at the ME's office."
This Dolan had considered. "Obviously Ross already knows you're involved, so I don't see a problem with you talking to her directly. But you stay the hell away from BPD," the sergeant warned. "And we can't have too much communication between Ross and Homicide either, it looks suspicious in case someone investigates. Savarese is loyal, a good soldier, he knows what's at stake, and most importantly, he's one of us. He'll do as he's told and keeps his mouth shut. So he's our man." The sergeant looked Katherine in the eye, but this time more like the colleague he was asking her to become. "Now to you, Doc. I don't want to put any pressure on you or anything, but I went out on a hell of a limb to bring you in on this case. You don't work for me, but if we're going to accomplish our goal, I'm going to need your absolute cooperation and your assurance to follow orders. And I'm not asking you to do it in a vacuum. I also have an assurance for you, and it comes directly from the lieutenant. You will not be asked to do anything that will jeopardize your medical license or your position and reputation at Mass Gen. Is that acceptable to you?"
Katherine was impressed. This was not the Dolan she had come to know, and she felt more confident in his words about a proposal that was now fraught with imponderables. "Yes, sergeant," she said immediately, "And thank you for looking out for my interests."
"Don't thank me just now, Doc," the man returned, sounding more like the old Dolan again. "Because I'm going to put you through the wringer and get right to it. We need a profile as soon as possible, preferably yesterday. If the guy who killed Rosa Castillo is indeed the same one who murdered the two women back twenty years ago, then we have to assume that Rosa isn't his last victim. So the first thing Savarese is supposed to do is check prison records. We're looking for someone who's been locked away for the last thirty-five years, possibly a serial rapist who targeted women who resembled Rosa."
"We're going to need a photo of her," Elizabeth said with a deep frown, placing her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward.
"I'll send Savarese to her mother," Dolan replied.
But Katherine would have none of that. "You won't."
Dolan was speechless. Hadn't the psychiatrist just agreed to all his conditions? "Doctor," he began, still reticent, "I can't risk -"
"Rosa's mother deserves to know what happened to her daughter," Katherine interrupted him. "You may think it's okay to withhold information, but I'm not going to let this woman suffer one second longer than necessary."
"Telling her is a bad idea, Doc," Dolan countered.
But Katherine remained stubborn. "I know her well. She'll do what I ask her to do, including keeping her mouth shut. I guarantee that."
Dolan knew he was going to lose this battle; after all, he knew Jane and Elizabeth more than well enough. "I'd like to order you not to, but I don't think you'll obey, no matter what I say."
"Not on that point," Katherine agreed. "I'm going to see her immediately after our meeting here. And I'm taking my sister with me."
This was news to Elizabeth, and Dolan gave her a dirty look.
"Liz can't help it, Sergeant, she's just finding out herself as we speak. It's my idea, not hers. Rosa's mother needs to know that the police are looking into it. It will help me convince her not to tell anyone."
Dolan tried to apologize for bringing Katherine into the picture, but it was too late to back down. He didn't have time to look for a new psychiatrist he could trust to keep their mission to himself. And what really bothered him was that he actually trusted Katherine. It was a small risk for an investment that could yield a big return.
"In that case, I'm not going to argue with you about it, Doc," Dolan said, standing up.
"We'll work as fast as we can, Sergeant," Katherine assured him.
Dolan headed for the door. Elizabeth followed him out into the busy hallway, forcing her to speak softly.
"She is a handful, Rizzoli," Dolan said resignedly.
"Yes, she is. But she's not going to mess it up."
Dolan knew that, or at least he liked to believe it. "I'll have Savarese bring those files to your parent's house this afternoon," the sergeant said.
"Thank you, sergeant," Elizabeth replied. This was now the third time Dolan had revived her career. "For getting me back in."
"Don't thank me yet, Rizzoli," Dolan replied, pressing the elevator button. "We put you in because we need to keep this story under wraps and because you're the invisible one right now. Hopefully, third time's is a charm, huh?"
The elevator door opened, and Dolan stepped inside. He turned to Elizabeth and gestured in the direction of Katherine's office. "Keep her in check."
"Will do," Elizabeth replied before the elevator closed on her patron.
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When Maria Lopez opened the door, she was very different from the cheerful woman who had visited Katherine two days ago. She had dark circles under her eyes, red from hours of crying. She looked first at Katherine and then at Elizabeth and knew immediately that they were not bringing good news.
"Maria," Katherine said, taking her hand. "Are the children home?"
"No, they're at daycare," Maria replied, visibly trying to keep her emotions in check. "Please come in." After closing the door, she turned to the detective. "You're with the police, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeth said respectfully and kindly. "Detective Elizabeth Rizzoli."
Maria's gaze went to Katherine, in whose sorrowful eyes she found her worst fear confirmed. "Oh no," she cried, looking at Elizabeth again. "Was it an accident?" she asked, the word barely wanting to pass her lips.
"I'm afraid no," Elizabeth answered sympathetically, "and we'll do all we can to find the person who did this -" She fell silent when Mary began to sob so violently that Elizabeth held her to keep her from breaking down. With her sister's help, she led her to the living room sofa. Elizabeth moved a toy truck and a stuffed bear aside so Katherine could sit down with Maria.
Katherine held the grieving woman in her arms and stroked her hair as if Maria were a little girl and not a grandmother. "It's fine, let it out," Katherine said as Elizabeth settled into an armchair.
The detective had informed relatives of death many times in her professional life. Mary's outpouring of grief was nothing new to her. But something about Rosa Castillo's murder irritated her, despite the many murders she had investigated. Something she couldn't yet put her finger on.
Maria's crying quieted, and after a while, she had regained her composure. "Please forgive me," she begged, sniffling.
"No need to apologize," Elizabeth replied. "We're terribly sorry for your loss."
Maria nodded slowly. "Where can the undertaker pick up my Rosa?"
Now came the part of the conversation Katherine had been dreading since she heard of her patient's death. "Rosa's remains are at the coroner's office," she explained, "but you can't have them picked up yet -"
"I want to know what you mean by 'remains'," Maria demanded firmly, knowing Katherine wanted to spare her the details. But she wouldn't tolerate that.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea right now," Katherine said, struggling to maintain eye contact with Maria.
But the grieving woman remained firm. "No, it has to be now," she explained, "I have to know."
Katherine nodded slowly. "I understand," she replied, determined to cut the story short as best she could. "We think Rosa was kidnapped after she came to see me the other day. When you allowed us to track her cell phone, we traced it to a wooded area in Arnold Arboretum Park, where we discovered evidence that she had been killed. All we were able to recover were her bones." Part of the plan she had devised with her sister on the way here was not to tell Maria about Rosa's bones being found in Back Bay. The fewer people who knew that detail, the better.
Fortunately, Maria didn't ask. "Just her bones?" she asked, sounding as if her breath was catching. "Nothing else?"
"No," Katherine replied, wishing she could take some of Maria's pain. Maria sat there staring into space. Katherine wondered what horrible scenarios she was conjuring up in her mind to explain what had happened to her daughter.
After a minute, Maria blinked as if waking from a trance. "Then how do you know the bones are Rosa's?"
Katherine explained to her that an X-ray of the fracture Rosa had suffered in the prison attack matched an X-ray of the bones they had found.
Maria's face stiffened as she absorbed the information that could lead to her daughter's killer.
She's locking out her feelings, Katherine thought. God knows I'm an expert at that.
When Katherine had reported everything, Maria lowered her eyes, but this time she didn't cry, instead of processing all the gruesome details with emotional detachment. Finally, she looked up at Katherine and Elizabeth. "You say I can't put my little one to rest yet, and I need to know why."
Before Katherine could respond, Elizabeth spoke up. "I know this is going to be very hard for you. But the longer no one knows that Rosa was murdered, the greater the chance of finding the man who killed her."
"Anyone who does something so horrible is not a man, but a monster," Maria said bitterly.
"You're absolutely right," the detective agreed. "And that's why it's so important that you keep what you heard to yourself. You can't even tell your grandchildren. And now I'll explain why you can't bury Rosa yet," she said, reciting briefly the story of the two murders from over twenty years ago. "We have to catch this monster before more women are harmed. And if he knows we're on to him, he may leave the area."
Maria wiped new tears from her eyes. "Yes, I understand. And I will do what you say if it brings me and my family justice for Rosa."
Katherine and Elizabeth stood up and Katherine hugged Maria. "You have my number, and if you need anything, even if it's just a shoulder to lean on and cry on, you call and I'll be right there."
Maria nodded. "Thank you. And thank you for finding my little girl."
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"That's enough, Max," Nikki called to the dog barking in her grandparents' living room as she hurried to the front door, wondering why Katherine had come by so early. Just an hour ago, Maura had gotten a call and left while Elizabeth and Jane were still stuck in BPD. Maura said she would be home in a couple of hours before Katherine arrived, but if she was late for some reason, Nikki and her younger sister Ashlyn shouldn't wait for her with dinner. Therefore, Nikki's surprise was even greater when she opened the door and saw Katherine standing in front with several bags of groceries. "What's this?" she asked loudly over the dog's barking, taking one of the bags from her aunt.
"Dinner," Katherine said, rearranging the two remaining bags in her arms and laughing at her awkwardness.
Nikki had to smile and led Katherine into the kitchen. "Ma said you wouldn't be in until after dinner," Nikki said.
"She's not here?"
"She's still at work, and Grandma left a while ago."
Katherine looked at the dog. "I see."
"She got a call and left. She said she'd be back before sundown."
Katherine was skeptical, wondering where Maura had to go so suddenly, but she didn't let her concern show. "Then she'll come home to a nice meal."
They unloaded the bags on the kitchen island. "You don't have to do this, though," the adult in Nikki spoke up. "I can handle it."
Katherine was prepared for resistance. "I know you can," she said, looking around the kitchen where she and her big sister had so often sat and eaten dinner alone themselves, "but tonight you get to take a break. And besides, it's been a long time since I've been able to cook for anyone."
Nikki was about to reply when nine-year-old Ashlyn came running excitedly into the kitchen; she was wearing pink sweat pants and a yellow T-shirt, and her auburn hair was wildly tousled. "What's going on?"
"Aunt Kate is making us dinner," Nikki said, sounding more like a mother than a big sister.
Katherine rolled her eyes.
Ashlyn took in the food that was being unpacked. "What's for dinner?"
"Do you like chicken?" asked Katherine.
"I think red meat is gross," Ashlyn replied. "But white I like."
"Well, you're in luck, because I only brought white meat. I'm going to saute it in a mustard and garlic sauce. Do you know what haricots verts are?"
"Ma says it's a stupid name for green beans."
"Actually, it's French," Katherine explained, laughing. "Besides, I'm going to make a potato gratin and a salad. How does that sound?"
"Better than what Nikki makes us," Ashlyn replied, waiting for a reaction from her sister, which was absent. She turned back to her aunt. "Can I help?"
"You have homework," Nikki reminded her.
"You have some, too," Ashlyn mimicked her older sister.
"You know what," Katherine stepped in and looked at the two girls. "Ash, you do your homework, and Nikki will help me get everything ready. And then when you're done, you can help me cook, and your sister can do her homework. Does that sound reasonable?"
The gentle but firm authority impressed both girls. "Sounds like a plan," Ashlyn agreed, visibly eager to please the only adult woman present at the moment. The girl quickly ran out of the kitchen, making Katherine and Nikki laugh.
"You make it look so easy," Nikki said.
"She's cute," Katherine replied.
"But she doesn't do anything so willingly when I tell her to," Nikki whined.
A wistful feeling stirred inside Katherine. "Ash is lucky to have you," she said, remembering that she herself had had someone like Nikki, her big sister Elizabeth, to whom she could always turn.
If Nikki noticed any of this, she kept it to herself. "I can wash the chicken breasts," she suggested.
"Great, and I'll start on the potatoes," Katherine agreed. She took the tubers out of a bag and watched out of the corner of her eye as Nikki unwrapped and expertly washed the chicken. She had done this task dozens of times since her mother and Leonor died, recognizably. A sadness for Nikki's lost childhood came over Katherine. And memories of how she and her sister had stood here preparing food while Jane was at work and Maura was still missing.
"Are you all right?" the girl asked after silence fell in the kitchen.
Katherine noticed that she was just standing there with a potato in her hand. "Sorry, I just thought of something I need to do," she said, walking over to the sink to brush off the potato. They stood side by side, sharing the sink.
It seemed almost normal to Katherine, she felt comfortable doing it, and she couldn't explain why.
"I know that," Nikki said, placing another chicken breast in a metal bowl. "Sometimes I daydream, too."
Katherine saw a start. "You have a lot on your plate these days," she said casually.
"You could say that," the girl replied with a sigh, striving for a light-hearted tone. "I never realized how busy it was at home. I mean Jane and Maura are great, but Grandma Lenore -"
"Was there 24/7," Katherine completed the sentence. "You certainly miss her."
Nikki paused and looked like she was about to cry.
Katherine was sorry for her words. But after a few seconds, the girl continued washing the chicken fillets. Katherine realized that this young woman was a lot like her, especially when times were rough and you only survived by locking away your feelings and marching on unflinchingly.
And then, to her aunt's surprise, Nikki opened up, as if the water running over her hands was somehow having a therapeutic effect. "Yeah, I really miss her a lot."
"Well, you guys were close," Katherine said gently as she sliced potatoes on a cutting board next to the sink.
"We talked a lot, about boys, about the bitchy girls at school, stuff like that, like you and I used to. It really helped me after Mom ... Well, you know."
"I know," Katherine replied, trying hard not to fall into the therapist mode, even though her niece could use one without question. "I'm sorry that happened to you."
"I wasn't talking about Mom's suicide," Nikki replied so lightly that it almost seemed like it didn't hurt. Not once since the conversation began had Nikki turned away from the sink and looked directly at her aunt. "I mean the time about a year before when she mentally dropped out."
Katherine knew that Sarah had emotionally abandoned the girl long before her suicide. She laid the paring knife aside and reached around Nikki to turn off the faucet.
"What are you doing?" asked Nikki.
Katherine could feel the girl's tension and resisted the impulse to mother Nikki, to take her in her arms and tell her everything would be all right. But Katherine was not her mother. And how could she or anyone else make such a guarantee? What she could do, however, was give Nikki a break from wanting to be a mother to her little sister. "Let me do that," she offered.
Nikki looked at her blankly. "But you said -"
"When was the last time someone cooked for you?" asked Katherine with furrowed brows. "I, on the other hand, never have anyone to cook for. Let me do that. You can do your homework, and then you can get some rest."
But Nikki seemed eager for company. "Oh come on, I can do all that later."
Katherine sensed how starved the girl was for conversation. She backed away, giving Nikki enough room to turn around so they weren't facing each other head-on. "I think it's great how you stepped in here after everything you've been through," she said, trying hard to sound like a friend Nikki recognizably needed. "And I know you want to take care of your ma and your sister. But you also need to let someone take care of you."
Nikki dropped the piece of chicken from her hand. Still facing the sink, she could no longer manage to hold back the emotions that had been pent up for so long. She cried out loud, her shoulders shaking, half seeming to hope that Katherine didn't notice, and half that she did.
Racked with guilt, Katherine stepped behind her niece and placed first her right hand on the girl's shoulder, then her left on the other shoulder.
Nikki reached up and pulled both of Katherine's hands down so that her aunt was hugging her. "I'm sorry," she forced out through sobs.
"It's okay," Katherine said soothingly. "You're allowed to cry. Let it out."
"It's just, I feel so -," Nikki began, unable to finish.
"So alone," Katherine whispered in her ear.
"Yes," Nikki confirmed, and the neglected little girl surfaced. She spun around and rested her head against Katherine's shoulder.
"No one knows what you have to deal with," Katherine continued, feeling terrible because she thought she had pushed the girl too far. "You don't want to be a burden to anyone, especially your ma and your sister. You want to be strong for them like Grandma Leonor was and your mom couldn't be. And inside, you don't know where Nikki went, what she became. Who she is."
Nikki nodded. "How do you know?" she asked, then shook her head and laughed through her tears. "That was stupid. You're a psychiatrist, after all."
"It wasn't stupid," Katherine assured her, taking the girl's hands. "And I know because I've been through it, too. I look at you and I see myself. You've been through more pain than you should have to go through at twelve. Pretending it doesn't torment you only makes it worse."
"You've been through pain, too. Ma told me what happened when you were kids. That you thought Grandma Maura was dead and Ma took care of you while Nonna looked for her. And what happened to Uncle Nate."
This surprised Katherine, but she didn't let it stop her. "Yeah, your ma and I went through hard times too. And I'm still going through a hard time, but I'm more than twice your age, so I can handle it better," she said, not caring if it was true or not, as long as it helped her niece. "And I'd like to help you, too."
"As a psychiatrist, you mean?" asked Nikki.
Katherine laughed and dried her niece's tears with her thumbs and a frown. "No, as your aunt and friend," she replied. "Before I go home later, I'll give you my new cell phone number. And anytime you feel like you need to explore, or you just want to talk, laugh, or cry, call me."
"Okay," Nikki replied, not wanting to say no.
Katherine wasn't convinced that she had convinced the girl of her sincerity. "I want you to know that this isn't an order or anything. If I go too far, just say so. In fact, you can tell me anything, and I won't tell anyone."
"Not even to my mother?"
"Not even to your mother," Katherine assured her.
"No wonder my ears were itching," Elizabeth's voice rang out from the kitchen door.
Katherine and Nikki had been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't heard her enter the house. "You guys are making a real feast here",
the detective remarked, looking at the chicken fillets, potatoes, and vegetables on the kitchen island.
"Hi, Ma," Nikki said, walking over to her mother to give her a hug.
Elizabeth saw the red eyes. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked, kissing her daughter on the forehead.
"Yes, yes," Nikki said, enjoying her mother's hug.
Katherine couldn't help but smile.
"You didn't spill any family secrets here, did you?" said Elizabeth to her daughter, and even though she said it jokingly, she still wondered what they had been talking about.
Katherine's smile grew. "Just a little girl talk," she said, exchanging a knowing glance with her niece as Ashlyn stormed into the kitchen.
"Done with homework," she called out, hugging her mother.
Elizabeth laughed heartily, resembling Jane all the more. "What's all the fuss about?"
"Kate and I have an agreement," Ashlyn said. "When I'm done with my homework, I get to help her cook.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Come on," Katherine said to the girl, "let's make dinner and then get it on the table.
An hour and a half later, the girls were in their rooms, or rather, the rooms once occupied by Elizabeth and Kate, getting ready for bed.
Elizabeth and Katherine sat in the basement, the dog at the detective's feet, going over the files from the first two murder cases as well as what little they had on Rosa. And although it wasn't quite dark outside yet, her sister had already turned on enough light in the room to perform a surgical procedure.
"I should put on my sunglasses," Katherine said jokingly.
Elizabeth looked at her with furrowed brows and grunted in amusement.
"You weren't exaggerating when you said there wasn't much there," Katherine said in frustration. "It doesn't look like the detectives were even trying to identify the two unidentified dead women at the time. I did some research on the Internet yesterday and didn't find one article about either case."
"I know," Elizabeth replied, lowering Rosa's medical records, which her sister had copied and smuggled out of the hospital. "And we don't realize it because we weren't born then. Back then, Charles Hoyt had Boston terrorized. No one knew where or when this madman would strike next. Those cases were put on the back burner. End of story."
"I can see why," Katherine replied, reading a forensic report on the bones. "No witnesses, no women reported missing. No leads or clues except for these bones. Not much for detectives to go on back then." She laid the two old case files on the floor next to her chair. "Pretty much the only useful information in the forensic report is that the perpetrator dismembered the women with great skill and seems to have anatomical knowledge."
"You mean like a surgeon or a butcher?"
"Yes. And he didn't bother to remove all the muscle or cartilage at the time."
"Probably because he didn't have to worry about them being identified by DNA," Elizabeth said with a deep frown.
Katherine was glancing at the slim file on Elizabeth's lap that contained the scant material on Rosa's murder. "Give me what you don't need right now," she said.
Elizabeth handed her the file. "I've already gone through it."
"Good, then I can get up to speed." Katherine opened the folder, which contained photographs, a listing of the evidence collected in the woods, and a police report that Katherine was about to read when her sister waved her off.
"Don't waste your time, Kate," she said, "It just says that two garbage men found the bones while emptying a trash can into their vehicle."
But Katherine's eyes suddenly snapped open. "Oh my God," she gasped.
"What is it?" asked Elizabeth, wondering if she could have missed something.
Her sister pointed to the report. "Nothing you could have known. Did you talk to this man?" she asked, standing up and pointing to the name as she handed the file back to the detective.
"I haven't talked to any of the garbage men," Elizabeth replied, now frowning. "The uniforms took their statements. Why, what about the man?"
Katherine was shaken to her core. "Franco Castillo," she said, "is Rosa's ex-husband."
Elizabeth was skeptical. "You realize how many men with that name must be in Boston, don't you?"
"But certainly not too many who work in garbage collection," Katherine replied. "What did he look like?" Elizabeth described him briefly. "That's him, no question," Katherine confirmed.
Elizabeth laid the report on the worn mahogany coffee table and looked at her sister in wonder. "In any other case, my first thought would be that this puts the husband in the suspect pool."
"But you know he couldn't have done it," Katherine replied, sharing the same train of thought as Elizabeth, "because then Franco would have either had to dump Rosa's bones in the trash can before he went to work, or he would have had to take them in the truck and, right before his partner found them, throw them in the back."
"And either way, he'd have to be a complete moron to set it up to find his dead wife's bones himself after he'd gone to so much trouble beforehand to remove all traces and all clues to her identity."
They looked at each other and both had already come to the only sensible conclusion.
"On the other hand, it can't possibly be a coincidence," Katherine reasoned, running her hand through her hair.
"No way," Elizabeth exclaimed, amazed that even after so many years in the murder business, there were still things that shocked her. "Whoever this maniac is, he wanted her ex-husband to find the bones."
The younger woman could hardly believe it herself. "That means he spied on Franco so he knew exactly which trash can to put the bones in." She dropped back into the chair, reached for Rosa's file, and pulled out a stack of photos, which she flipped through in wonder.
"That would explain why the bastard drove all the way from the park to Back Bay to get rid of her remains," Elizabeth picked up her last thought and took a sip from her beer bottle. Katherine, meanwhile, was looking at a gallery of shots of the trash from the garbage can. "What I don't understand is why this particular garbage can. There must be dozens of them in more remote places on Franco's route. Instead, this lunatic picks one in an area with lots of foot traffic and surveillance cameras."
"What is this?" interrupted Katherine, showing her sister a picture of a discarded banana peel.
Elizabeth laughed heartily. "Forensics was a little overzealous with the contents of the trash can. They cataloged and photographed everything they found in the garbage truck that could possibly have come from it. Did you even hear what I said?"
"Every word," Katherine replied, lost in thought, taking a sip from her wine glass. "Can we get the images from those surveillance cameras?"
"Savarese is working on it," Elizabeth assured her. "We're getting copies. Unfortunately, though, none of the cameras nearby were pointed directly at the trash can." Elizabeth watched as her sister flipped through the photos again. "Why are you bothering to look through these pictures again?"
"Because they're here," the doctor replied, "and because we have nothing else to do."
"Then give me some," Elizabeth said wearily, "or it'll take all night."
Katherine handed her the bottom half of the stack and continued with the top. "Forensics must have spent half the night taking pictures of this shit."
Her expression made the detective look up. "Well, sis, I guess you've been hanging out with us low cops too much."
"I'm tired. Don't be so hard on me."
The hint of a smile appeared on Elizabeth's face as she looked up from the photo of an empty cigarette pack. "I used to dig around in people's trash all the time looking for evidence. Next to guarding a dead body, that's probably the most disgusting job a cop has to do."
"But you're bound to find interesting stuff," her sister replied.
"Sometimes, but mostly it's shit like this," Elizabeth said, holding up a photo of an empty milk carton. She picked up the next photo. "Or this one," she said, showing a picture of a crumpled and slick receipt.
Katherine leaned forward as if trying to decipher something.
"It's from a bodega," Elizabeth said.
"And someone wrote something at the top."
Elizabeth looked at the handwritten words. „Emigrant hasta?" she read.
"What does that mean?" asked Katherine, narrowing her eyes.
"Who cares?" returned Elizabeth, quickly going through more photos. "This is a waste of time. Tomorrow I'll chase Savarese up to get us the surveillance videos. Maybe we'll get lucky and see the person who put the bones in the frigging trash can."
"Let me see that photo again," Katherine suddenly said in a sepulchral voice.
It made her sister lift her head, and she saw that Katherine was staring mesmerized at a photo in her hand. "Which one?"
"The one with the receipt," the younger woman replied.
"Wait a minute. What do you have there?"
Katherine handed her the photo, put the others on her lap, and reached for Rosa's file.
Elizabeth looked at the photo with narrowed eyes and held it up to the light of the lamp behind her. She saw a paper cup for coffee with 'El Primo Deli & Restaurant' printed on it and the address of the store. "What about it?" she asked.
"Rosa was not a random victim. She was scouted beforehand by her killer," Katherine replied.
"And this paper cup tells you that?" replied Elizabeth skeptically.
"Rosa had to tell the probation department about all the jobs she had. And she worked part-time at this store. I think it belongs to an uncle of hers. And the receipt came from there, too." Katherine handed both photos to her sister, which the detective looked at like a winning lottery ticket.
"Whoever this guy is, he's sloppy. First, he forgets to turn off Rosa's cell phone so we can trace her path. Then he dumps her remains in one of Back Bay's busiest neighborhoods, where her ex-husband the trash hauler, will find them. And if that's not enough, he also leaves clues that could help us identify her.
"If we haven't identified her yet," Katherine said with a deep frown. "None of this was an accident."
"How the hell would you know?" asked Elizabeth.
"People who boil bones to be able to detach meat don't make careless mistakes, Liz. Rosa's killer left all those marks for a reason."
Elizabeth rubbed her face with her hands and groaned. "Now I don't understand anything," she admitted. "Why does he go to all this trouble to make the victim unidentifiable, and then he practically leaves us a map leading to her identity?"
"That's exactly what he did," Katherine confirmed. "I don't know why, but I feel it."
Katherine held up the photo with the receipt and pointed to the handwritten words at the top. "And when we find out what emigrant hasta means, if we ever do, we'll pretty much know what Rosa's murder is all about."