*
A flicker of movement caught in the corner of her eye made Sara turn her head, to see Tony padding across the living room, to the kitchen, oblivious to her presence. A moment later, he returned with a glass in his hand, his eyes closed as he trod the well-worn path to his bedroom. Less than a minute later he poked his tousled, tired head around the corner and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"You know, I was halfway to my bedroom when part of me said, 'Dear Tony, he who lives alone. There is someone in your living room. Perhaps you should investigate, you stupid sod'."
"Sorry," she said, though her grin undermined her sincerity.
He replayed earlier events in his head. "You weren't sitting there when I came in at midnight, were you?"
"No, I was in bed when you came in. Got up for a glass of water and couldn't go back to sleep."
"Oh, good. I mean, good that I'm not losing my mind." He came into the living room and sat down. "Everything all right?" he asked. "Bed not comfortable?
"No, everything's fine. I don't know how to thank you for being so good to me."
He waved it off and smiled. "Insomnia?"
She shrugged. "A bit, yeah. And almost two weeks later and I'm still not used to the time change. So, while it's…" she glanced at the clock, "four in the morning here, it's 8pm in Vegas. I'd be up, getting ready for work." She held up the book on her lap. "Besides, I've been dying to check out your books since I walked into your house."
"What has caught your attention?"
She read the title. "The Biological Revolution in Psychology: A Scientific Study".
"That should cure the insomnia." They laughed then Tony's face got serious. "Where did you find that book? I've been looking for it for ages."
"It was behind that book shelf in the corner. You probably put it on top and it slipped behind it."
Tony looked at her, puzzled, then looked around the room. Dazed, he slowly stood up and did a complete turn about the room. "You picked up my books." He made his way to the bookcase that took up the entire wall. Running his fingers over the spines of the books, he whispered amazed, "You organized them in alphabetical order."
"By author."
"By author." He turned and looked at her.
"Sorry, I just couldn't sleep and…"
"No, no," he interrupted. "It's quite all right. More than all right, actually. But now where will I eat?" he joked.
"Well, you could always try eating in the kitchen. And if that doesn't work, Christmas is only four months away. Try to look surprised when Carol gives you a coffee table."
Tony smiled then turned back to the shelves. "But I have over 500 books," he marveled at her task.
"Six hundred and eighty three," she corrected.
"Six hundred and eighty three," he repeated. "And you sorted them all."
"It relaxes me," she explained. "Just think of it as my way of saying thank you for all you've done."
"I didn't expect librarian services from you."
She smiled. "I know. But I was glad to do it anyway. Just consider yourself lucky that I couldn't find any tools or it would have been your car instead."
Feigning seriousness, he said, "Oh, now that I might have taken you up on. The engine's making this strange grinding sound."
Her smile grew into a laugh. "I'll check it in the morning."
He sat down across from her again. "So is this what you do when you can't sleep? Read? Organize your CD collection alphabetically by artist, then wonder if you should organize little subdirectories by genre or year?"
She gently kicked him with her foot. "That's not funny. I do that!" His look was of pure innocence, but she decided to let it pass. "What's your cure for insomnia?"
"A stiff drink and Lara Croft."
"What?"
"Lara Croft. Tomb Raider. I play video games."
"You're kidding."
He tilted his head towards the T.V stand where a Playstation was installed.
"I saw that," she said, "I just thought you had nephews or something."
"Only child," he corrected. Looking at the T.V, he went on, "Helps me relax. Takes my mind off… whatever."
"Like the case you're working on right now?"
"Yes."
"How's that going? Or should I ask?"
He shook his head. "No, it's fine. We've talked about cases for the last ten months; this one should be no different. So long as you don't mind talking shop while you're supposed to be on vacation."
She waved him off. "Vacations are over-rated," she smiled as she tucked her legs underneath her and got comfortable in the large chair. "Besides, I'll be back at work in four days. Need to work off the rust."
"I highly doubt any rust finds its way to that mind of yours," he replied. Pulling his chair closer to hers, he went over the same ground he shared with Carol less than five hours ago. Sara nodded at particular points, squinted her eyes at other bits. "And that's it," he concluded.
She lightly chewed on the inside of her bottom lip before speaking. "And there's absolutely no connection?"
"Well, of course there's some sort of connection, but none that we've found, no."
"Schooling? Place of birth? Hobbies?"
"No, no, and no," he answered. "Jane Morris wasn't even born in England. And there's no sign that these four women had ever met each other."
"Gyms? Libraries? Favourite book stores or coffee shops?"
"No."
"Recent deliveries to all four women? On-line shopping?"
Tony decided to forego speaking and shook his head instead.
"Any patterns in the names? Maybe there's some sort of message there?"
He couldn't help but laugh. Seeing her narrowed eyes, he explained, "Sorry. I completely underestimated the similarities between you and Carol. No wonder she likes you so much. I've met her verbal equivalent." Sara's inquisitive gaze never wavered. "She does the same thing," he went on. "But it's all internal. I can see the wheels spinning in her head as she poses these questions and challenges to herself inwardly. You just express it right out there for all to hear."
"Probably because most of the time, I'm not expected to offer theories that drive the case. The answer is already in the evidence given to me; I just have find it. It must be hard being a cop; all eyes are on you to give a theory for others to run with. You'd better make it a good one if you don't want to waste everyone's time." Tony nodded. "And, as much as we'd all like to think otherwise, there are more eyes on you when you're a woman. So I can only imagine how careful Carol must think she needs to be in order to keep her foothold in the boys' club."
"And you don't feel that way?"
She gave it some thought. "Sometimes, yeah," she admitted. "But then, I'm not in charge, so I can always hand off responsibility to the boss."
"I have a hard time seeing you deflect responsibility," Tony said.
She smiled. "Well, I didn't say I do it, but it helps knowing that I could, if I wanted. Does Carol have that option?"
He playfully screwed up his face. "She could always hand it off to the psychologist. Tell them the head doctor came up with the idea. They'd nod understandingly and move on ."
"But she wouldn't deflect responsibility either, would she?"
"No. She's strong enough to accept the consequences of things."
"And she cares about you too much to lay it at your feet."
He paused. "What were we talking about again?" She smirked and he glanced over at the clock in an attempt to change the subject. "God, Carol's coming to pick me up in less than four hours," he groaned. Standing, he extended his hand down to Sara and helped her get up. "I know you didn't feel comfortable coming to the crime scene last night, but how would you feel about coming down to the station in the morning? I wouldn't mind you looking at what we've got, and I know Carol would really appreciate it."
"You just want someone else to suffer along with you at eight in the morning," she joked.
*
"You still look like hell," Carol greeted as Tony held the door open for her to enter.
"Thank you, Carol. You always say the nicest things to me. And good morning to you, too."
She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Satisfied that the shoe of surprise was on the other foot for once, she made her way up the stairs. "Mmmm. Smells like you've been up long enough to put coffee on. Fantastic." She turned. "It's not that instant crap, is it?"
He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, leaving him looking all of seven years old. "No, it's not that instant crap," he answered wearily. "You can thank Sara. She went out last night and bought the real thing. And woke up early enough to make it."
"You're not a very good host, are you?"
He simply narrowed his eyes and gave her a soft push into his flat. "You know where the kitchen is."
Walking through the living room, she grasped his arm. "Oh my God, Tony!" she exclaimed.
Alarmed, he stopped dead in his tracks. "What? What is it?"
She glanced over at Sara in the small kitchen and gave a small wink. Putting her free hand over her heart, she took a breath. "I can see your floors!"
He frowned. "What?" Then he saw the look of amusement pass between Sara and Carol. "Oh. Ha, ha. Not funny."
As they entered the kitchen, he gestured for Carol to join Sara at the table and he walked over to the counter. Pouring a cup for Carol, he spoke over his shoulder. "I'm not sure it's safe for me to let you two work together."
"Work together?" Carol repeated then looked at Sara. "Have you changed your mind about looking over the case?"
She shrugged. "Well, Tony and I ended up talking about it last night and I thought coming down to the station couldn't hurt. As long as it won't get you into trouble."
Carol reached for the cup Tony placed in front of her. "No, don't worry about it. I'll make up some bullshit story about why you're there." She took a sip and nodded appreciatively before adding, "Were you two able to come up with anything last night?"
Tony shook his head and Sara put the gesture into words. "No. I had more questions than Tony had answers."
"Which just goes to show you how maddening this case is, because that doesn't happen very often," Carol grinned in Tony's direction.
"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much," he replied.
"Are you working on any other cases?" Sara asked Carol.
"Not at the moment, no. Generally we have three or four on-going, but due to the nature of this one, everything else has been demoted. This is it." She took another sip. "I'll never complain about simple burglaries or homicides again after this one, I tell you." She looked over at Tony. "Are you going to wear that today? You look like you slept in it."
He tilted his head, then looked down at his T-shirt in confusion. "You mean this?" When he saw her nod, he answered, "I did sleep in it."
"Well, go on then," she ordered. "I told you I was picking you up at 8am. And it is now," she glanced at her watch, "Eight twenty, and you're not even dressed yet."
"It's her fault I was up 'til all hours of the morning," he said defensively as he meekly pointed to Sara.
"Tony…" Carol began.
"Right, right," he interrupted, and left the room.
*
"Welcome to the madness," Carol said by way of introducing Sara to the chaotic police station. "Come on, I'll show you where we bang our heads against the wall."
As the trio made their way past the obstacle course of desks and chairs and bodies, Sara was well aware of the heads turning as she walked by. After years on the job, anything new – or anyone – was immediately given the investigative eye. She pretended not to notice.
Tony leaned into her as they continued walking. "Just wait until they hear your accent. You'll be the talk of the office for sure."
Sara turned her head slightly and whispered playfully, "What accent?"
Carol pushed open the door to the large conference room. Two men, perched on the edge of the long table, their backs to the door, were apparently contemplating the bulletin board. Sara smiled brightly, in anticipation of their curious looks as they turned their heads in response to scrape of the opening door.
"Hey," she said automatically.
The two men looked at each other then at Carol.
"Don Merrick, Kevin Geoffries, this is Sara Sidle. She's a friend of Tony's. Come from the States… to examine and compare techniques and procedures of British policing." Carol slyly looked over at Sara who recognized this as the "bullshit story"; a way for Carol to cover her ass should anyone ask why a complete stranger was allowed past the information desk at the front of the building.
"A friend of Dr. Hill's," the taller, heavier man whom Carol introduced as Don said. "So are you a head checker, too, Dr. Sidle?"
She laughed, which seemed to put the other younger man at ease. "No, unfortunately, the closest I get to a doctor is standing beside Tony or my boss. I'm a criminalist; I work in forensics."
"Ah," he seemed pleased with this answer. "So you work in real evidence, then?"
Sara noticed the slightly disparaging glance that Don threw Tony. She caught Tony's eye sympathetically and he shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly, as if to say, "What can you do?"
She returned her attention to Don and answered, "You know, out of all the things my boss has ever said to me, one of the most important things he said was, 'Follow what cannot lie- the evidence'."
"That's good advice," Don agreed.
She nodded. "Yep. But in my field, I've also learned you've got to look hard for evidence. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Sometimes the most important clues aren't the ones you can see."
Kevin pursed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully, a gesture mirrored by both Carol and Tony. Don shrugged good-naturedly and conceded the point. "All right then, Ms. Sidle." He stepped away from the board both he and Kevin had been examining earlier. "What aren't we seeing here?"
As the big man stepped away, the board was revealed to be a collection of information and theories of the case Tony had shared with her the night before. Pictures of the four women ran along the top of the board with their personal information underneath. Any similarity was circled in red. There was very little of it. Beyond the obvious connection of their sex, the only thing the women seemed to have in common was the cause of their death. She didn't bother asking anything that the board could already answer. Which only left her with one line of questioning.
"What does forensics say?"
"Nothing yet," Kevin answered. "The towels found over their faces aren't from Harrods. They're of the garden variety."
"They were all sexually assaulted. Any DNA?"
"No DNA at the scene or on the body," Don said. "Nothing under the fingernails. He cleans 'em up pretty good, dresses them, then dumps them."
"Places them," Tony corrected. "That's important."
"Yeah, well whatever. Doesn't get us closer to finding the bastard, does it?"
Sara peered closer at the picture of Lynn George. "Cause of death?"
"Strangulation with a cord or a rope of some kind," Carol replied.
Tapping the photo, Sara said, "Not this one."
The other four stopped in their tracks. Carol was the first to speak.
"What?"
"Look at this void along her neck." Everyone craned forward. "A definite break of the strangulation line. Like she had her hand between the cord and her throat." She held up her hand to demonstrate what she meant.
"Bloody hell, she's right," Don exclaimed.
Kevin voiced his confusion. "But the rest of the signature's the same."
"But something happened between stages," Tony remarked. "Something broke his pattern. What was it?"
"Maybe the pathologist can give us a better insight." Turning to the other two men, Carol instructed, "Don, you come with us. Kevin, any word on the car?"
"Nothing from the neighbours, but I'm getting the security tapes from the local traffic office this morning."
"Great. I want you to go over every frame of that tape and see what you can come up with."
Don tilted his head towards Sara. "I like her. Can she come with us?"
*