Chapter 9

Chief Moran drummed his fingers on the table and shook his head. His captains could advise, but this was his decision. He might as well go ahead and make it. "I think we're all in agreement that this couldn't have happened at a worse time. The evidence may be fragmentary, but I don't buy an accident, and I definitely don't buy a suicide. It's unimaginable that Danny Ross would do such a thing. I also agree the coat was staged to point us in that direction. The fact that there was some attempt to mislead tells me to start looking, either for a hostage, an injured man, or, God forbid, a body. We're committing every available resource to the search." Everyone in the room shifted. "I say that knowing we HAVE no available resources. Powell, who's on this?"

"Right now, I have one team, Logan and Wheeler canvassing the neighborhood of the last report," Powell said. "Goren and Eames should be in forensics right about now. There didn't look like much to go on, so I can't hold out a lot of hope."

"We can't invent what isn't there," Moran sighed. "Powell, I want you to concentrate on the evidence collection and the case itself. Everyone else, I want Powell to have access to one team from every department, and I mean every department, on every shift, from now until we find Danny Ross. Before anyone says a word, I know how thin everyone is, and every damn one of you thinks he's got special circumstances I don't know about. I don't want to hear it. Don't even think about sending your second stringers over and hoping I won't notice. Do whatever it takes; overtime, cancel vacations, whatever. Bring meals in. Set up cots. You've got thirty minutes to come back here with duty rosters. Dismissed. Powell, stay."

The other captains filed out of the room, talking amongst themselves, until only Powell and Moran remained in the room. "You've asked the impossible, sir," Powell said quietly. "Ross was out there because there's no one left. Can't we get some of our own people back? Declare a police emergency?"

"My next stop is the mayor. I'll do my damn best, which is all I can ask of them. Supposedly, they had new leads on a 'credible threat' in the next twenty-four hours."

"We don't have a threat, we have a reality," Powell said grimly.

"Good point. We need to find something to get this going, something I can give the mayor. We need a lead. If not, you'll need to be searching likely dump sites. I hate to say that, but it is true."

"Understood, sir. Thirty minutes." Powell didn't bother with his cell phone or stopping by Major Crimes. He headed directly to Forensics.

Jennifer Culver looked up from her microscope, to the clock, and then scowled at her visitors. "Damn you, Goren. I told you an hour. Go away."

"It's been an hour. At least on my watch, anyway."

She rolled her eyes as Goren strode in anyway. Eames, trailing behind, peeked around the broad shoulders and mouthed, "Sorry." Culver gave her a tiny smile in return. She had actually expected them sooner. It was a running joke between the two of them at Goren's expense. Her eyes clouded with concern as the last member of the trio filed into the lab.

Eames was quick to notice her unspoken thoughts. "You know Jeremy, don't you Jennifer? He's - uh – staying with Major Case."

"Right," she said, after a moment of hesitation. Managing family members during an investigation was always a little tricky. She looked toward Goren, hoping for some kind of a cue. Goren gave her a slight nod. He and Eames hadn't had quite enough time to work out the details. They were walking a fine line between following correct procedure and keeping Jeremy engaged enough to forestall outright rebellion.

"We haven't pulled any prints that were useful. We haven't had any hits on any of the data bases, but it's early."

"Partials?" Goren asked.

"Lots. If you get a suspect, we can probably confirm they were in the car. Our chances of giving you a suspect isn't so good."

"There's got to be something, Culver."

"We swept that area of the parking lot area near the coat, and the rocks themselves. Those rocks were very treacherous." She paused as she pulled up the sleeve of her lab coat and showed off her newly acquired six inch scrap running the length of her forearm. "We came up with some change and a receipt that seems to match the coffee cup in the car. It was time stamped at about 6:30 last night. It's speculation, but I'd guess it came out of the pocket of his coat. I'm not sure what that means, if anything."

"Nothing else?" Eames asked.

Culver shook her head sadly. "I know you need something quickly, but I can't give it to you. There is residue on the car we're still working on. It's sticky, like the car was parked under a tree, tree sap." She gestured helplessly with her hands. "There's an outside chance we can find something to work with. There is some dark black gummy substance ground into the tire treads."

"I noticed that," Goren said. "It wasn't oil."

Culver raised an eyebrow, before replying, "No, it wasn't. It seems to be vegetation of some kind. It's a long shot, but we're trying to put a name to it. We're grasping at straws. I'm afraid that's it so far."

"What about the coat?" Goren asked, surprised Culver hadn't discussed that crucial piece of evidence already.

"We're still analyzing samples, but there weren't many fibers on what we recovered." She fiddled with her notes for a moment. "Maybe I should just summarize my findings and email them to you."

"Culver, we need..." Goren stopped in mid-sentence when Eames's thumb dug under his last rib. His partner's face was a study in neutrality, but the thumb kept digging. Culver was studying the floor tiles with sudden interest.

"Maybe Jeremy could identify the coat," Eames suggested.

"It's right over here," Culver said, sounding a little more confident. "Does this look like your Dad's, Jeremy?" She gestured toward one of her work areas. "The pockets were empty."

Jeremy looked closely. "It's big enough. It looks like the one he uses for work most days." He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. "Did it have a label or anything? Dad gets most of his suits and stuff from that men's store, the one downtown. They put some kind of special label in it."

"Kaufman's," Goren said. "Good thinking, Jeremy. It does have a Kaufman's label. Maybe you guys can follow up on that." The silence that followed was palpable.

Culver was avoiding something, and not very skillfully. Besides that, Eames was firmly tromping on his instep. Finally it dawned on Goren. Culver wouldn't hold out on them. She just didn't want to say it in front of Jeremy.

"You guys knock it off!"

Jeremy's angry voice snapped Goren out of his reverie. He'd been so intent on the evidence, he'd been a half second too slow. Jeremy was facing off with Eames. "You gave me your word! You promised me you'd be straight with me. Those were your exact words!"

"Jeremy, you're here, aren't you?" Eames said. "This is a lead we can follow up…"

Jeremy wasn't buying it. "Bullshit. You don't care where dad buys his clothes." He glared at Culver. "What's on the coat you don't want to tell me?"

Culver gave Goren a stricken look, but said nothing.

"What's on the coat?" Jeremy shouted.

"That's enough," Goren said, forcing himself between Culver and Jeremy.

"WHAT'S ON IT?"

Toe to toe with Detective Goren was not a position most people sought out. Defying the usual odds, Jeremy closed the gap between them even more, even as the detective towered over him. The decibel level went down, but his voice quivered with rage.

"What. Is. On. The. Coat? Tell me or I'm out of here, and you're not going to stop me."

"There were blood stains on the coat," Culver said quietly. "Just don't get upset before you let me finish. It's nothing like a bullet or a knife wound." She turned the coat over gently.

"There's no blood on there," Jeremy said.

"You can't see it. The residue is very faint. Let me show you. Turn around, Goren." Gesturing across his back, she continued to explain. "There were just spatters, along the collar particularly. It's hard to tell because of all the rain. There was another smear along the left sleeve, near the wrist." She demonstrated. "This is very hypothetical, but if someone were struck on the head, they might reach back behind their head, like this."

Jeremy bit his lip and said nothing.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Jeremy? That means he was moving after he was struck. It's not a bullet hole or a stab wound."

"Okay. Okay." Jeremy put both hands in front of him, steadying himself on the lab counter. He was breathing in irregular pants, clearly shaken. He looked up at Goren.

"I can't do this, can I? It's too much." He was fighting back tears again. "Powell tried to tell me."

"That's why you're not supposed to work on an investigation that you're too close to," Goren said quietly. "If you were the one missing, your dad might be helping, but he wouldn't be the lead investigator. It would be hard, but he'd step back and understand why."

Jeremy nodded. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Maybe Detective Eames can go back up to my dad's office with me while you talk to Culver. Would that be okay?"

Goren squeezed his shoulder firmly. "I think that's a great idea. I'll be up in a minute." He waited as Eames herded the shell-shocked young man from the room.