Chapter XXVII

Developments

Sofia stared blankly at the cellphone in her hand, then at the list of numbers she had compiled for her calls. There were five cities to talk to, and while Los Angeles and New York City each had its own Sex Crimes squad, Atlanta, Seattle and Boston did not. That made things difficult enough as it was, but to make her job a little easier on her, neither Seattle nor Boston had filled out the entire VICAP form, she didn't have the Detective's names to go on either. She blindly reached over for the coffee mug she kept at her desk for long shifts, then drank another tepid swallow of the sludge the PD passed off as coffee and longed for a few hours in the Detective's crash room. Just a few minutes on one of the bunks would do wonders. Unfortunately, a couple of the calls she had to make were on the East Coast and she was already losing daylight there because of the time difference.

San Francisco, the closest city to Vegas, was still actively working the cases, had been eager to know what, if anything, they'd found. Sergeant Inspector Davis asked straight answers and gave clear answers. She could tell he wanted the killer just as much as she did. Unfortunately, he had less than she did to go on. She pushed one hand through her limp blonde tresses and started dialling Boston PD's number, starting with the 617 area code. While she listened to the electronic beeps that signaled that her call was ringing through, she leaned back in her chair and dropped one arm over her eyes and started forming her explanation. If she said the right thing, she would cut through miles of red tape.

An hour later, she had been told that Boston was busy with its own problems and they'd get back to her after catching a spree killer. Seattle was slightly more helpful; the Homicide Captain's secretary had looked up the murders in question and had informed Sofia that Detective Abby Jones was busy having a baby and her partner had quit only a week before. She would be happy to give the captain a message when she got back in. Sofia had thanked the bubbling secretary and, when the call disconnected, banged her head against the desk.

She had problems, once again, with the LAPD. Apparently one case had gone to Robbery Homicide and the other had gone to Priority Homicide, and there was some sort of turf fight between the two squads and the District Attorney's Office before the cases both went cold and attention shifted to a highway sniper. She stayed on hold for a Detective Benson or Stabler from Manhattan's Special Victim's Unit for ten minutes before giving up. Atlanta was her last hope. Atlanta, of all the God forsaken, cousin screwing, backwoods cities was her last hope. She only hoped talking to the PD would be easier then driving through the city. Thathad been a traffic nightmare that she had no wish to repeat, mandatory conference or not.

When she'd been ready to swear off cross-jurisdiction cooperation for good, the Atlanta switchboard sent her to Detective Lashawna Ellsworth, attached to newly formed Sex Crimes Unit.

Detective Ellsworth not only remembered the case in question, Sofia could hear the excitement in her voice, "Do you have a hot lead?"

Sofia swung around in her chair, using the tip of her boot to swing the chair back and forth in a half circle. "What I have is a mess. Four dbs, one living vic. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it. One of my vics was from Savannah."

The woman on the other end of the line and the country grumbled something. "Cooperation here is still hit and miss. We're talking one hundred percent match, though, severe penile damage inflicted with some sort of razor in the vaginal cavity?"

Sofia pulled out the file she'd printed. "We've recovered the murder weapon, the best word for it is a device from one of our d.b.s." Though she had died horribly, Sofia was still having problems calling Erica Green a victim. "It's a nasty piece of work."

The voice on the other line was accented but not the exact same way that Kim Abernathy's had been. Detective Ellsworth's voice, for that was all that Sofia had to judge her by, was quicker and less fluid. "My case is still open. It's the same M.O. and possibly the same murder weapon; do you think it's the same sick bitch, Detective Curtis?"

Since she couldn't quite recall the last time she'd been off duty, she stretched, "Sofia, please, and I'm not sure. We don't have any suspects yet, and we have two completely different descriptions. One from the survivor, one from a witness; both questionable."

Lashawna mumbled off a curse, "Still plying them with drinks, is she?"

Sofia started turned whole circles, "And Ruffies."

The other woman, united to her through work and yet separated by countless miles and a couple of timezones, grumbled and Sofia could hear keys clacking. "I don't have much, only a questionable sketch, but I'll send you everything."

Sofia opened her mouth to thank the other Detective but was cut off before the first syllable even left her mouth. "And I would appreciate it if you did the same. I would like to be able to tell his grieving mother something."

Sofia stopped turning. "I thought you said he survived the attack."

There was a moment of silence. "He survived the attack, and the surgery, but he was twenty three, had his eye on a pretty brunette. His penis was completely severed and mutilated beyond repair and reattachment. He ate a bullet two weeks later."

Sofia closed her eyes, she didn't even try to articulate what she was feeling.

When she opened her eyes, her thoughts could be summed up in three short words. "What the hell."She quickly apologized, citing the universal 'inter-squad bullshit' excuse, relayed the PD's fax line along with her extension, then had to hang up. She didn't particularly enjoy hanging up on APD's Lashawna Ellsworth. Besides the point that the woman was helping her investigation, she sounded like a good cop. Sofia didn't really have a choice though. One very smug CSI perp walking a perplexed and pissy supermodel into her bullpen tended to take priority. Especially since she knew that the first jaw dropping would have an encore of one very angry and armed Sara Sidle. She hit her feet and was out of her chair before the phone handset hit it's cradle.

"What the hell is this, Catherine?"

Her eyes darted from the unis, who tried to look inconspicuous, to Catherine and then to Alex Dupree. In the seconds it took Catherine to organize her answer, Sofia's mind played through the information she already had on the woman. She might have, just to satisfy her own curiosity, run a background check on Sara's ex while on hold. She was a woman of substantial means -- she had a cool five million in liquid assets alone -- and a clean record. She had been born in North Dakota to Andrew and Tammy Dupree, had three brothers, a sister, and several nieces, nephews and cousins. She had also spent several years with Sara.

Though she didn't have much to go on there, it was obvious the relationship had ended badly and that Sara was still affected by it. That went a long way, for reasons she refused to contemplate, in Sofia's book. All that aside, she still had absolutely no clue why Catherine had brought her in, especially without talking to her first. The CSI was stepping on toes again, and Sofia wasn't going to let it happen. Not when her feet were in stomping range.

She glared at Catherine Willow, "Well?"

Catherine tossed her hair. "Miss Dupree is a --" She waited until the uniforms shut the interview room door behind Alex, "Our primary suspect."

Sofia let that settle into her brain and tried to fit it into the case. The case, in her mind, was a three dimensional puzzle and she still didn't have all the pieces. She wasn't even sure Alex Dupree belonged in the puzzle. While her immediate reaction would be to question Catherine's sanity, previous experience with the easily angered CSI had taught her better. "What have you got?" She popped a toothpick in her mouth to take her anger out on it. It wasn't Catherine's job to bring in suspects. Not without talking to her first. What had just went down was a direct violation of protocol. Sofia itched to tell Catherine just that, but was more interested in why Catherine had thrown procedure out the window.

Catherine pulled a folder, "Pulled up the site for TAN."

Sofia only glanced down at it, "That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?" Catherine leaned against the nearest desk. Sofia was sure that O'Riley wouldn't mind that at all.

"The main page was enough to get my attention. It's a flash page with a video, starring Alex Dupree, and she was preaching hell fire and brimstone for rapists and basically any and every man."

Sofia quickly thought back to the SNOW meeting she and Sara had dropped in earlier on. "That doesn't maker her a killer, Catherine. VICAP turned up about a dozen other killings."

Catherine checked her hair and shirt in the one way window that allowed them to see into the interview room. "In San Fransisco, Boston, Seattle, New York, Los Angeles and Atlanta." Deeming her appearance acceptable, Catherine turned back around, "What, you think you're the only one who can run a VICAP search?"

Determined not to give in to a pissing match, Sofia shrugged, "I was on the line with Atlanta when you paraded in."

Catherine started walking out of the observation room, and was turning the corner to enter the interview room. "And guess where Miss Dupree's home city is?"

As they entered the interview room, Sofia let an impassive mask fall over her face. She wasn't convinced, but it was a rather large coincidence. Alex turned and watched them come in. She didn't look particularly scared or nervous, but the woman did make her living off of her face and body language. Catherine also noted the other woman's calm, and after she sat down across from her, cocked an eyebrow.

"Not so scared now that Sara isn't here to see the show, huh, Miss Dupree?"

Alex only gave a dainty snort. "Please, this is hardly my first rodeo." She checked her nails, a mirror image of what Catherine had done only a few moments ago. "Besides, I haven't done anything. I know the routine. I'm not stupid and you can't live with Sara and not pick up a few things about forensics and police work."

Author's Note: Where have I been? Running a two year old around the supermarket and trying on funny hats. How about you? Several points to make before I run away and hide in a cave until Spring comes back. I like Atlanta, really I do, I just don't like driving there. Nobody in their right mind looks forward to driving in Atlanta. Also, I squeezed some cross overs into this chapter because with the Writer's Strike on, I figured these charecters could use a little excercise. So, just to make sure there is no confusion, I don't own Benson, Stabler or anyone from Law and Order SVU. There are a couple of other allusions to telivision crime shows in there. Shark, and my summer favorite, The Closer. Surprisingly, I don't own them either. I'm done now.