A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews. Ill try to get the next chapter
posted soon but I am also working on something else. Enjoy!
*-*-*-*-*
The precinct was quieter than it had been earlier. The press, tired of waiting for information on the man they had dubbed the Westminster Strangler had apparently gone home. Dylan pulled open the glass door and stepped inside the warm stale air of the station. "Can I help you?" asked a young bobby. .
Dylan smiled at the officer. "Yes, I'm one of the investigators who help capture the strangler I have a few more questions for him could I possibly see him?" she sweetly asked the nervous young cop.
"I've got to check with my superiors you know but I don't see why not. Wait here a minute will you?" he asked and jogged off only to return not a second later, "I'm sorry how rude of me would you like some tea as you wait?"
"No thank you. Just to talk to the prisoner." He gave her a brief nod and left again. Silently she hoped she hadn't offended him. She drank so much tea when they brought the man in she wasn't sure if she wanted to se another cup in her life. The sound on the television above the main desk was down but the photograph of an island with a large almost castle like building caught her eye. It was the orphanage that the Thin Man had grown up in. "Excuse me," she said and the pudgy man working the desk looked up. "Could you turn the volume up please?" He just grunted but obliged.
"Sky News is reporting a large blaze that is engulfing the island of Catalina, located 20 miles from the southern California coast. The authorities suspect arson. Currently the population of fulltime residents, people on holiday and the children and church staff of "Our Lady of Perpetual Virginity" orphanage are being evacuated. This according to the governor of California the entire island is being declared a disaster zone and a great ecological loss. More after these words from our sponsor."
Dylan could help but wonder what the nuns would do now. The Thin Man had been the sole benefactor of the orphanage. She also wondered if the he was alive what he would think of his childhood home being destroyed. "Miss Sanders?" came a voice from behind her. Turning she was face to face with Inspector Morrison.
"Has he said anything?" she asked.
"Just his name, Peter Carutasu. Our records show that he is a citizen of the United Kingdom and Great Britain and his family emigrated from Romania back in the early seventies. He has no previous criminal record. If you want to speak with him still I'll take you back to the holding cell. We do have a problem Miss Sanders. So far we can only hold him for the attack on you in the park."
She stopped and turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean we have no evidence that connects him to the murders of those young women." Weariness was apparent in his posture. She could tell the case had taken a lot out of him but she didn't understand how they couldn't connect the man to the six dead women.
"That's impossible."
"I'm afraid its not. The man who attacked the other woman wore gloves. This man didn't when he attacked you. While the pressure marks on your neck are close they are still inconsistent with those of the other victims. No fibers or DNA found matches Mr. Carutasu. So far Dylan, it looks as though he is a copycat and he wanted to be caught."
"Can I still go and see him?" she asked. It was disappointing if he wasn't the man they were after but there was something about him. She saw it in his eyes. Then again maybe it was the lack of oxygen while she was being choked by Carutasu that made her think she had seen all those things, that he had said to her that the Thin Man was alive because if it wasn't how did he know.
"Of course," he said and continued leading the way. They approached the large steel door that separated the holding area from the rest of the precinct and punched in a code to the keypad. With a buzz the door lock clicked and he pushed the door open. "He is on the last cell on the left. I'll be waiting here for you. Don't be too long."
Nodding to him she walked past the cells. Catcalls and whistles rang out from the men in the other cells. Ignoring them she continued down to the cell where her attacker, Peter Carutasu sat with his head in his hands. The man in the other cells hooted and whistled at whoever walked down the hallway, but he knew it was her which surprised him. The connection still remained. Not raising he head he said, "You want to know more don't you? You must or you wouldn't be here?"
"I want you to confess to the murders. They will go easier on you if you do," she said hoping to bluff him.
"We aren't the states. What are they going to go easy on? Life in prison? I can't get the death penalty"
"You are saying then, that you didn't kill them."
"I'm not admitting to it either," he said smiling at her. "Dylan, why don't we talk about why you are really here?" She looked at him puzzled. "You want to know about Him."
"I don't know what you are talking about," she denied. To herself she thought, "Deny everything Dylan isn't that what you are good at." She had denied so much over the past year, denied that she had fallen in love, denied that his death bothered her, denied her friends from helping her. Denial was becoming more of a profession than private investigator.
"Deny everything Dylan, isn't that what you are good at?" he said to her in a mocking tone. She looked up at him suddenly to find him staring at her.
"Why did you say that?" she asked. Did he just read her mind? She was almost frightened to find out.
"You have so many questions burning in your soul, ones you never asked yet wanted to know the answers to; however I have no incentive to answer them." Standing he began to pace his cell. Dylan didn't know what to say, she had never felt so confused. "Give me a reason Dylan; give me a reason to answer them."
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want just like I know what you had for breakfast this morning or that someone once called you 'Starfish'. Think Dylan, of what I want. Accept those thoughts in your head that aren't yours," he said starting at her with his ebony eyes.
Sighing she dreaded the choice she was about to make. In the cab on the way she knew if she had to do this to get the answers she sought. Whether it was her idea or his she now wasn't sure, but the urgent feeling that she had to do it persisted, gnawing at her. "Fine. I'll be back." Turning she walked back down the corridor of catcalls and buzzed Inspector Morrison who stood patiently waiting on the other side of the door As he opened it the door swinging outward she said, "I'm not pressing charges." Morrison looked down at the young woman not comprehending what she was saying. "Since you can't connect him to the other murders I'm not pressing charges. If there is another attack while he is out we can try getting him for that one but there is no point holding an innocent man."
"Are you mad?" he exclaimed throwing up his hands. "The man attacked you; almost killed you and you want him to go free?" The girl was as crazy as the man in the cell.
"No, I want to be able to catch the perp. He won't confess so the easiest thing to do will be to catch him in the act." She said trying to explain and hoping that it sounded reasonable although to her it sounded ridiculous.
"We have caught him in the act, attacking you. If he hadn't attacked you it would have been someone else in the park. Perhaps you haven't looked in a mirror at your throat. If you haven't maybe you should before you decided not to press charges." The volume of the inspector's voice caused the other officers around him to cringe but Dylan held her ground. The whole precinct watching didn't deter her from standing up to him.
"That isn't my point. I think we can have him for all the murders if we let him go. Let him think he is off the hook and he is no longer suspect. I'm not pressing charges," she concluded folding her arms across her chest defiantly.
"Fine. Bledsoe!" he called to another officer. "Get the paperwork ready for Caratasu's release. "If he kills again though I want you to know that I will hold you as an accessory. Don't think I won't," he said and stormed off leaving those around them looking as stunned as she felt. She won and maybe her questions would finally be answered.
*-*-*-*-*
Inspector Morrison was good at his job; highly decorated with medals of honor from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself. He had solved eight of the ten biggest cases to come to Scotland Yard in the last five years and now case eleven, the strangler case was being sabotaged by the American woman. Something didn't add up. She had seemed more determined than any of them to see the man imprisoned but now he was she was just as determined to have him released. Perhaps it was nothing more than a strange case of something similar to Stockholm Syndrome, still without her pressing charges they couldn't hold him for longer than twenty four hours. Once Caratasu was released he would be on him, no he would be on them. There was something funny about how the Sanders woman was acting and he would find out exactly what it was.
Picking up the phone he punched in an extension. "James? Morrison here. I have a favor to ask. Yes, it's regarding a case. I have someone I need you to follow discreetly. Who? A suspect she is 5'7" red hair, green eyes, American. Name? Oh right, her name is Dylan Sanders. Yes, she is one of the detectives from Los Angeles. Just a hunch I have. So you'll keep an eye on her? Splendid! She and her friends are staying at the London Bridge Hotel. Keep me up to date. Goodbye." And with that he hung up the phone. "If you want to play games Dylan we will play games."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan went outside and caught a cab passing the station. The officer, Bledsoe had told her that it would take time to process the paperwork to release Cartasu and that he would be free in the morning. She wondered if she did the right thing or he would bolt and run killing more people and leaving her looking like an idiot. She wondered to herself how she would find him once he was out but a part of her already knew the answer to that she wouldn't have to find him, he would find her. He said they were connected and after knowing that the Chad called her "Starfish" she didn't doubt it. How could it be? It wasn't possible but she would find out soon enough she hoped.
"Miss where to?" asked the cabby impatiently.
"Oh," she said awakened from her thoughts. "London Bridge Hotel." As she replied he pulled away from the curb and started down the darkened London streets.
"Are you American?" he asked looking into his rearview mirror so he could see her as he talked to her.
"Yes from California."
"D'ya hear about the fire out that way?" he asked. "Sound's like nasty business. The wife always wanted to see California. Me? I'm scared to myself, them rumblers ya get. Earthquakes." He shivered to show his dislike for them. "Nothing like that here in jolly ol' England."
Dylan smiled. "The quakes aren't too bad. They don't happen that often. We get more fires like the one on the news than earthquakes."
"Been to the little island then have you?"
"I mean southern California in general but yes, I've been there. I had a friend that grew up there."
"Hope he's okay."
"Yeah me too," said Dylan her mind drifting back to the fact the Thin Man might still be alive. "Me too."
*-*-*-*-*
The precinct was quieter than it had been earlier. The press, tired of waiting for information on the man they had dubbed the Westminster Strangler had apparently gone home. Dylan pulled open the glass door and stepped inside the warm stale air of the station. "Can I help you?" asked a young bobby. .
Dylan smiled at the officer. "Yes, I'm one of the investigators who help capture the strangler I have a few more questions for him could I possibly see him?" she sweetly asked the nervous young cop.
"I've got to check with my superiors you know but I don't see why not. Wait here a minute will you?" he asked and jogged off only to return not a second later, "I'm sorry how rude of me would you like some tea as you wait?"
"No thank you. Just to talk to the prisoner." He gave her a brief nod and left again. Silently she hoped she hadn't offended him. She drank so much tea when they brought the man in she wasn't sure if she wanted to se another cup in her life. The sound on the television above the main desk was down but the photograph of an island with a large almost castle like building caught her eye. It was the orphanage that the Thin Man had grown up in. "Excuse me," she said and the pudgy man working the desk looked up. "Could you turn the volume up please?" He just grunted but obliged.
"Sky News is reporting a large blaze that is engulfing the island of Catalina, located 20 miles from the southern California coast. The authorities suspect arson. Currently the population of fulltime residents, people on holiday and the children and church staff of "Our Lady of Perpetual Virginity" orphanage are being evacuated. This according to the governor of California the entire island is being declared a disaster zone and a great ecological loss. More after these words from our sponsor."
Dylan could help but wonder what the nuns would do now. The Thin Man had been the sole benefactor of the orphanage. She also wondered if the he was alive what he would think of his childhood home being destroyed. "Miss Sanders?" came a voice from behind her. Turning she was face to face with Inspector Morrison.
"Has he said anything?" she asked.
"Just his name, Peter Carutasu. Our records show that he is a citizen of the United Kingdom and Great Britain and his family emigrated from Romania back in the early seventies. He has no previous criminal record. If you want to speak with him still I'll take you back to the holding cell. We do have a problem Miss Sanders. So far we can only hold him for the attack on you in the park."
She stopped and turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean we have no evidence that connects him to the murders of those young women." Weariness was apparent in his posture. She could tell the case had taken a lot out of him but she didn't understand how they couldn't connect the man to the six dead women.
"That's impossible."
"I'm afraid its not. The man who attacked the other woman wore gloves. This man didn't when he attacked you. While the pressure marks on your neck are close they are still inconsistent with those of the other victims. No fibers or DNA found matches Mr. Carutasu. So far Dylan, it looks as though he is a copycat and he wanted to be caught."
"Can I still go and see him?" she asked. It was disappointing if he wasn't the man they were after but there was something about him. She saw it in his eyes. Then again maybe it was the lack of oxygen while she was being choked by Carutasu that made her think she had seen all those things, that he had said to her that the Thin Man was alive because if it wasn't how did he know.
"Of course," he said and continued leading the way. They approached the large steel door that separated the holding area from the rest of the precinct and punched in a code to the keypad. With a buzz the door lock clicked and he pushed the door open. "He is on the last cell on the left. I'll be waiting here for you. Don't be too long."
Nodding to him she walked past the cells. Catcalls and whistles rang out from the men in the other cells. Ignoring them she continued down to the cell where her attacker, Peter Carutasu sat with his head in his hands. The man in the other cells hooted and whistled at whoever walked down the hallway, but he knew it was her which surprised him. The connection still remained. Not raising he head he said, "You want to know more don't you? You must or you wouldn't be here?"
"I want you to confess to the murders. They will go easier on you if you do," she said hoping to bluff him.
"We aren't the states. What are they going to go easy on? Life in prison? I can't get the death penalty"
"You are saying then, that you didn't kill them."
"I'm not admitting to it either," he said smiling at her. "Dylan, why don't we talk about why you are really here?" She looked at him puzzled. "You want to know about Him."
"I don't know what you are talking about," she denied. To herself she thought, "Deny everything Dylan isn't that what you are good at." She had denied so much over the past year, denied that she had fallen in love, denied that his death bothered her, denied her friends from helping her. Denial was becoming more of a profession than private investigator.
"Deny everything Dylan, isn't that what you are good at?" he said to her in a mocking tone. She looked up at him suddenly to find him staring at her.
"Why did you say that?" she asked. Did he just read her mind? She was almost frightened to find out.
"You have so many questions burning in your soul, ones you never asked yet wanted to know the answers to; however I have no incentive to answer them." Standing he began to pace his cell. Dylan didn't know what to say, she had never felt so confused. "Give me a reason Dylan; give me a reason to answer them."
"What do you want?"
"You know what I want just like I know what you had for breakfast this morning or that someone once called you 'Starfish'. Think Dylan, of what I want. Accept those thoughts in your head that aren't yours," he said starting at her with his ebony eyes.
Sighing she dreaded the choice she was about to make. In the cab on the way she knew if she had to do this to get the answers she sought. Whether it was her idea or his she now wasn't sure, but the urgent feeling that she had to do it persisted, gnawing at her. "Fine. I'll be back." Turning she walked back down the corridor of catcalls and buzzed Inspector Morrison who stood patiently waiting on the other side of the door As he opened it the door swinging outward she said, "I'm not pressing charges." Morrison looked down at the young woman not comprehending what she was saying. "Since you can't connect him to the other murders I'm not pressing charges. If there is another attack while he is out we can try getting him for that one but there is no point holding an innocent man."
"Are you mad?" he exclaimed throwing up his hands. "The man attacked you; almost killed you and you want him to go free?" The girl was as crazy as the man in the cell.
"No, I want to be able to catch the perp. He won't confess so the easiest thing to do will be to catch him in the act." She said trying to explain and hoping that it sounded reasonable although to her it sounded ridiculous.
"We have caught him in the act, attacking you. If he hadn't attacked you it would have been someone else in the park. Perhaps you haven't looked in a mirror at your throat. If you haven't maybe you should before you decided not to press charges." The volume of the inspector's voice caused the other officers around him to cringe but Dylan held her ground. The whole precinct watching didn't deter her from standing up to him.
"That isn't my point. I think we can have him for all the murders if we let him go. Let him think he is off the hook and he is no longer suspect. I'm not pressing charges," she concluded folding her arms across her chest defiantly.
"Fine. Bledsoe!" he called to another officer. "Get the paperwork ready for Caratasu's release. "If he kills again though I want you to know that I will hold you as an accessory. Don't think I won't," he said and stormed off leaving those around them looking as stunned as she felt. She won and maybe her questions would finally be answered.
*-*-*-*-*
Inspector Morrison was good at his job; highly decorated with medals of honor from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself. He had solved eight of the ten biggest cases to come to Scotland Yard in the last five years and now case eleven, the strangler case was being sabotaged by the American woman. Something didn't add up. She had seemed more determined than any of them to see the man imprisoned but now he was she was just as determined to have him released. Perhaps it was nothing more than a strange case of something similar to Stockholm Syndrome, still without her pressing charges they couldn't hold him for longer than twenty four hours. Once Caratasu was released he would be on him, no he would be on them. There was something funny about how the Sanders woman was acting and he would find out exactly what it was.
Picking up the phone he punched in an extension. "James? Morrison here. I have a favor to ask. Yes, it's regarding a case. I have someone I need you to follow discreetly. Who? A suspect she is 5'7" red hair, green eyes, American. Name? Oh right, her name is Dylan Sanders. Yes, she is one of the detectives from Los Angeles. Just a hunch I have. So you'll keep an eye on her? Splendid! She and her friends are staying at the London Bridge Hotel. Keep me up to date. Goodbye." And with that he hung up the phone. "If you want to play games Dylan we will play games."
*-*-*-*-*
Dylan went outside and caught a cab passing the station. The officer, Bledsoe had told her that it would take time to process the paperwork to release Cartasu and that he would be free in the morning. She wondered if she did the right thing or he would bolt and run killing more people and leaving her looking like an idiot. She wondered to herself how she would find him once he was out but a part of her already knew the answer to that she wouldn't have to find him, he would find her. He said they were connected and after knowing that the Chad called her "Starfish" she didn't doubt it. How could it be? It wasn't possible but she would find out soon enough she hoped.
"Miss where to?" asked the cabby impatiently.
"Oh," she said awakened from her thoughts. "London Bridge Hotel." As she replied he pulled away from the curb and started down the darkened London streets.
"Are you American?" he asked looking into his rearview mirror so he could see her as he talked to her.
"Yes from California."
"D'ya hear about the fire out that way?" he asked. "Sound's like nasty business. The wife always wanted to see California. Me? I'm scared to myself, them rumblers ya get. Earthquakes." He shivered to show his dislike for them. "Nothing like that here in jolly ol' England."
Dylan smiled. "The quakes aren't too bad. They don't happen that often. We get more fires like the one on the news than earthquakes."
"Been to the little island then have you?"
"I mean southern California in general but yes, I've been there. I had a friend that grew up there."
"Hope he's okay."
"Yeah me too," said Dylan her mind drifting back to the fact the Thin Man might still be alive. "Me too."
