He looked at the picture of the pretty brunette that was pinned to his wall and couldn't help but admire his handiwork. The wall was woefully bare, but considering he had only been in the country for nine weeks, he was quite proud of his accomplishment. After all, these things took time and planning. 'If you're going to do something, you might as well take the time to do it right,' his mother always told him. A flash of anger flooded over him and he pushed it aside. 'No time for that now,' he chastised himself.
He had come home on his lunch break to spend some time with the photo, since he hadn't had enough time earlier that morning. Rather than keep him awake, the residue of adrenaline left in his system after the murder last night had lulled him into a blissful sleep. It always did. Then the alarm had shrilled and work beckoned.
He looked at his watch and sighed. 'Not enough time,' he thought. 'Never enough time.' He consoled himself with knowing there would be more pictures later. Many more.
--
"Oh shit," Don thought as the familiar image of his boss came down the hall. His escape into the nearby gents was foiled by a steely glare from Carol and a sharp command.
"My office. Now."
"Right you are, boss," he said meekly, as he was left in her wake.
The door to Kevin's office was slightly ajar, which saved Carol the effort of kicking it in. He very nearly toppled backwards out of his swivel chair, but she didn't bother noticing.
"DI Geoffries –and don't be surprised if that's the last time you are called by that title –can I have a word with you in my office, please?" she asked sweetly, fooling no one. She didn't bother to wait for his response before turning on her heel and leaving.
In a matter of moments, the two men stood guiltily in front of Carol's desk, like two schoolboys in front of their head-master. She took no notice of their arrival, choosing instead to peruse some of the notes and memos that were on her desk. Minutes seemed to stretch into hours until Don coughed nervously. Still, Carol didn't look up.
'Poor Don,' she thought. 'He had to go before he got here. I bet he's pissing himself now, in more ways than one.' Feeling a modicum of sympathy, she finally looked up.
"How far are we on that arson case?" she asked.
Startled, Kevin leaned forward. "Pardon?"
"The arson case," Carol repeated. "Flower shop on Grosner Lane. Two nights ago. Anything?"
"Oh. Uh, we're waiting to hear from the arson investigators before we proceed," Kevin answered.
She looked down. "I don't see any entries in this file since yesterday. Have you thought about calling them?"
"We… we were waiting for them to call us," Don stuttered.
Carol's head snapped up. "Well I suggest you call them. Get the ball rolling on this. I don't want it sitting around on someone's desk until it ends up at the bottom of a pile, never to be seen again."
"I'll get right on it, guv," Don promised.
"Good. How about the vandalism at Everton school?"
Kevin shuffled his feet. "Neighbours in the area reported seeing a group of boys, between the ages of twelve and sixteen." He held out his hands at the futility of finding the boys. "It didn't seem to be…"
"How's the weather in Sutherland today?" At last, the other shoe dropped.
"I knew it," Don muttered.
"Listen, guv," Kevin tried to explain, "it's been slow and I just thought…"
"Slow, yeah," Carol nodded and held up two files in her hand. "I see how slow it is. Two open cases right here and I'm not even trying very hard. Apparently, neither are you."
Kevin bristled. "Have you even looked at the Sutherland case?"
It was as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. Don unconsciously took a step back.
Carol's voice was even and low, but had the edge of a sword. "I beg your pardon?" Kevin wilted. "That's all right," she went on, "I do believe I heard you. Let's see. Sutherland case- brunette; broke into the ground floor bedroom window; photo of the victim removed from the scene." All these described the Jeff Gibbons case, and she knew it. But then she got to the heart of the matter. "As of yet, no idea how the victim died; victim dismembered and put into a freezer. Letters and numbers with an unknown meaning scrawled on the wall in what could be the victim's blood, but we don't know."
"Okay, I'll concede there are differences," Kevin allowed, "but I've just got a feeling about this one. You've got to admit, the rest is pretty coincidental."
"Coincidental being the operative word, I would think. Plus the one fact we can't deny –Jeff Gibbons has been in jail for two years. Unless he's been having an out-of-body-experience…"
"Or he didn't do the others."
"Have you even looked at the Gibbons case?" Carol asked, but without any real malice. "Semen found at the scene. Gibbons skin cells found under the last vic's fingernails because he failed to pin her down while he smothered her. Gibbons did it."
Kevin sighed. "Then maybe it's a copycat."
Carol shook her head doubtfully. "The M.O might be the same, but there are too many discrepancies in the signature for it to be a copycat."
"You sound like Dr. Hill," Don remarked from the door.
She glanced over to him. "Are you still here, Don? I would have thought you'd be on the phone to those arson investigators."
"Yes, ma'am," he said and slipped out of the office, happy to be leaving relatively unscathed.
When Don was gone, Kevin turned to Carol. "Listen, guv, I'm sorry…"
"Go over my head like that again Kevin, and I'll have you in Traffic by the end of the day, do I make myself clear?"
"Very."
"Good." Her expression softened a bit. "Look, I understand you wanting to get your teeth into something more than an arson or kids defacing a building. There's no shame in ambition –it's what got you here in the first place. But in the future, at least let me know what the hell you're doing so when I get a call from our boss, or say, a DCI from another district, then at least I look like I know what's going on. And if I can save my ass, then I can do something about saving yours. Got it?"
Kevin smiled, grateful. "Got it. Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Now go look like you're doing something. Oh, and Kevin?" He turned at the door. "Keep your eyes on that Sutherland case. If anything strikes a chord, for Chrissakes, let me know."
He nodded and left.
--
Tony opened his door and saw Carol, two paper bags held up and covering her face.
"Mmmmm," he said appreciatively as the aroma of curry wafted in his direction. "I don't know who you are, but you've brought food. Come in."
"You're so easy," Carol scolded as she stepped over the threshold.
He took the bags from her and she hung up her coat. "I can honestly say I've never been called that before."
Her smile grew into a laugh. "Well, I reserve the right to change my mind."
"Good idea," he agreed as he walked through his living room. "Be right back," he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
It gave her a moment to look around the room, which always seemed to be in some form of disarray. She could never tell if he was starting something, finishing something, or was in the middle of something. She was still looking for clues when he returned.
"I'm always reminded that you're a cop," he remarked.
"Oh?"
"Most people give a room the once-over. You have a tendency to give it the thrice-over."
"And I'm always reminded that you're a psychologist," she countered.
"Oh?"
"You're always examining the people examining the room."
"Touché." He held up plates. "Curry?"
--
"So did you clear your thoughts?" Carol asked once they sat down and began eating.
"Sorry?"
"When I left you, mouth agape in the chip shop, you mentioned you were going to walk back to the university; clear your thoughts."
"Oh, right. No. I ended up taking the bus. Looking at the people looking out the window."
"I see," she grinned. "Let me ask you –is this about you turning forty? I didn't think men went through that sort of thing."
"I'm not having a mid-life crisis, if that's what you mean!" he objected.
Her grin widened. "Good, because I just can't picture you behind the wheel of a sports car."
"Not funny." He ignored her laughter and took a sip of his drink. "It's more of a looking back," he tried to explain. "A game of trying to see what would be different in my life if I had chosen other paths."
"Like what?"
"Like, what if I wasn't a psychologist? What would my life have been like?"
Curious, Carol asked, "What would you have been if not a psychologist?"
Tony shrugged. "That's just it, I don't know. I can't imagine ever doing anything else. But I wonder if the passion hasn't waned over the years. I often feel the challenge isn't there like it used to be."
"You know why that is, don't you?" He tilted his head, puzzled. "It's because you're the best at what you do." She saw his attempt to counter her remark, but she stopped him. "No, now listen. This isn't me trying to bolster your self-esteem or to gratuitously pat you on the back. Look at the people around you. Look at your colleagues, your peers. Is there anyone whose opinion is valued more?"
"I wouldn't say I'm anyone's favourite, no."
She shook her head. "Don't confuse respect with admiration. I can respect you but I don't have to like you. You're just lucky I happen to do both."
He enjoyed the feeling for a moment before asking, "What was the question again?"
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Anyway," she continued, "it's natural that you might feel unchallenged. When you're at the top of your field, I would think that would happen. I believe that's the whole sentiment behind the term 'top of your field'. You can't get any higher."
"I suppose you could be right."
"Don't sound so surprised," she drawled. "Here's an idea," she suggested. "Set personal challenges now that you're lacking professional ones."
"Personal challenges?" he echoed. "What do you mean? And am I going to like this?"
"Well, I'm not going to recommend bungee jumping, if that's what you think!" She waited for his eyebrows to come back down. "Take up a hobby. Volunteer to coach a local boys' football team. Go on a sabbatical and travel around Europe." She ticked each point on a finger. Then she slyly added, "Go out on a date."
He choked out a cough. "How do you know I don't go out on dates?"
"Because you told me today that you haven't had a date in eig… four years."
He made a sad face. "Right, I had forgotten. Damn. Damn you and your vocal recall." He pretended to be displeased with her amusement. "And here I thought, after this afternoon, that you'd make a great teacher. Turns out you'd be a better shrink."
"You'll get the bill."
"In that case, perhaps I should work off my debt. How was your job today?"
She leaned back into the chair and groaned. "Oh, nothing worth mentioning, if you don't count Kevin and Don traipsing up to Sutherland for no other reason than Kevin had a 'feeling' about a case."
"Oh?" Tony leaned forward, curious. Then it occurred to him. "Is that what the phone call was about?"
Carol nodded. "DCI Saunders up in Sutherland phoned to inform me that he would promise not to send any of his inspectors down to Bradfield if I promised to not send any of mine up to Sutherland. Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about and the bastard knew it. He then smugly did me the 'courtesy' of bringing me up to date on the movements of one DI Geoffries and his partner in crime, Inspector Merrick."
"What in the world were they doing up in Sutherland?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "A recent murder up there came down the police wire this morning. There were some instances that reminded Kevin of a similar case."
"Unsolved?"
"No, that's just it," Carol said. "This case that Kevin remembered was solved over two years ago. DNA all over the place, no question who it was. Jeff Gibbons has been in prison ever since."
Tony frowned; then it came to him. "Mr. Freeze?"
"Yeah."
"So what's in this new case that got Kevin's attention?"
Carol briefly shared the two cases with him, revealing both the similarities and the differences. When she was finished, Tony agreed with her assessment.
"The modus operandi is very nearly the same. Ground floor window, into the bedroom; an unprofessional eye might even stretch it and say the use of a cold stimulus is similar –ice cubes to freezers – but there are too many discrepancies in the signature for it to be the same man, even if he wasn't in jail."
"I know."
In his element, he continued, "Even a copycat killer seems unlikely due to these discrepancies."
"That's exactly what I told Kevin," Carol said.
"I've taught you well," he noted, feigning sadness. "I guess that means I'm no longer of any use to you."
She nudged his foot with her own. "Then I'll just have to come up with another use for you." Realizing the suggestiveness behind her comment, she wondered if her face was as red as his. She pushed herself up from the chair. "And on that awkward note, I should go."
He quickly stood and they were nearly nose to nose. "You could stay. If you want." He left the suggestion behind his own comment lingering for a moment before adding, "It wasn't awkward, Carol."
"No?"
"No." He locked eyes with hers. "You know what? I think I'm getting the hang of this whole 'personal challenge' bit." His voice remained neutral, but the gleam in his eyes told a different story. She slapped his arm, then took a page out of Tony's book.
"I guess that means I'm no longer of any use to you."
The gleam in his eyes remained. "Then I'll have to…"
Putting her finger to his lips, she stopped him. "Don't say it, or I'll never leave." Once she was sure he would remain silent, she stepped back. "And I have to get up early in the morning to make sure Kevin and Don don't get into any more mischief."
He walked her to the door and handed Carol her coat. They said their good-byes and he was watching her leave, when she got to the bottom of the steps and turned.
"You're a great psychologist, Tony," she told him. "Don't ever forget that." There was a pause before she added playfully, "Besides, if you hadn't chosen the path of psychology, you never would have met me."
--