Chapter Two
WARNING—Some graphic material at the end of this chapter.
On their return to Major Case, Bobby and Alex discovered a large pile of mail on their desks. "Sorry," the squad's secretary apologized. "The usual mail snafu."
"No bad news or envelopes, I hope," Alex said as she sorted through her mail, depositing most of it in the trash.
"Just this." Bobby held up an envelope and letter. "It's from a psych grad student at Cornell." Alex heard the controlled anger in Bobby's voice. "Doing a study of the Sebastian case. Wants my take on it…And on whether Declan Gage's failure in that case led to his collapse…"
"You didn't have anything to do with that case," Alex said.
"Yea…And any serious student of the case would know that," Bobby said. "Dec and I were out of touch by the time he worked that case." He tossed the letter and envelope into the trash. "This is someone trying to make a name…Or trying to get access to Dec…"
"You going to ignore it?" Alex asked.
"I've brushed off people with better credentials," Bobby answered.
The letter was forgotten until a little over a week later. Bobby and Alex dragged themselves into Major Case after a day of chasing leads and a suspect over most of Manhattan, parts of Brooklyn, and one of the worst neighborhoods of the Bronx. Thanks to their efforts, they finally had the suspect in custody.
"You don't have to process the paperwork right away," Ross told them. "He'll keep until tomorrow."
"He's not the brightest bulb on the lamp," Alex said. "But he does seem to be our guy."
"I think he had some help," Bobby said as he rifled through his mail. "Like Eames said, he doesn't have the brains…Or the initiative…A night in jail might encourage him to talk…Either scare him or give him a warm place to sleep…Either way, he might want to talk to us tomorrow…Oh…Damn…" Bobby stared at envelope.
"What is it?" Ross asked.
Alex saw the Ithaca postmark. "Your admirer again?"
"Admirer?" Ross asked as Bobby tore open the envelope.
"Grad student…" Bobby decided he could trust Ross. "Psychology. Wants to interview me about the Sebastian case."
Ross winced. "The department," he said deliberately. "Wants good community relations, Detective, but I think in this case you're under no obligation to speak with this person. As a matter of fact, my inclination is to order you not to have anything to do with this person."
"I'm with you on that," Alex said.
Bobby shook his head. "This guy isn't going to take a hint. I'm going to have to tell him as clearly as I can."
"He's contacted you before?" Ross asked.
"Just once," Bobby said. "I ignored his letter. Obviously he's not taking my lack of response for lack of interest." He moved in front of his computer.
"Don't be too rough on him," Ross said. "We were all students once."
Bobby glanced at the Captain. "Yea," he admitted. "I guess we always are if we're lucky. I'll be kind."
Ross nodded and returned to his office. Bobby stood and walked to the printer.
"Did it work?" Alex asked dryly when he sat at his desk.
"Yes it did," Bobby said. "I can get the printer to work…Sometimes."
He signed the letter, folded it, and slipped it inside an envelope. "There," he said, dropping the envelope in his out basket. "That should let Mr. Caldwell know that I'm not available for his study…or to give him publicity."
"Caldwell? That his name?" Alex asked.
Bobby nodded. "Mark Caldwell. Studying for a Master's in Psychology at Cornell."
"I'm curious," Alex said. "I think I'll just check up on Mr. Mark Caldwell."
"Curious? Is that what you call it when you're looking for an excuse not to do paperwork?" Bobby smiled.
"And just who haunts Wikipedia to try and change the entries?" Alex responded.
"That," Bobby said. "Is providing a service…What's wrong?"
"Caldwell. C A L D W E L L, right? M A R K?"
Bobby nodded.
"I don't find him listed as a student in the Psych Department at Cornell," Alex said. "Or anywhere at Cornell."
Bobby felt a tiny prick of worry. "Well,,,He claimed to be part of a special program…Maybe he's not enrolled this semester…Or he's taking a leave of absence…Or working at Cornell and actually studying at another school."
"I can't find any record of him being employed at Cornell," Alex said. "I'll see if I can get a driver's license for any Mark Caldwells."
"It's not an uncommon name…You'll probably find a lot of Mark Caldwells," Bobby said. "You got a number for the Cornell Psych Department."
"I do," Alex said, and handed a Post-It with the number to Bobby. As he called, she ran the name Mark Caldwell through several databases. "So?" Alex asked when Bobby finished his call.
"Three secretaries at the Cornell Psych Department—all of them very helpful and efficient—know nothing about any Mark Caldwell."
"I've checked some databases, and you're right. I found a lot of Mark Caldwells with drivers' licenses. But none that seem to be the right age in the Ithaca area. And I couldn't find a grad student in the Psych Departments at Hudson, Columbia, or NYU. There're still a lot of other possibilities…"
"He used stationary from the Cornell department to send me the letters," Bobby said thoughtfully. "But he could've copied or stolen that. He knew how to make it look legitimate."
"I don't like this, Bobby," Alex said.
"I'm not crazy about it," Bobby answered. "The reply address I've got is a PO Box in Ithaca. We can call about it. But I hope my official and polite refusal will turn this guy off. At least Cornell knows about him now." Bobby shrugged. "He's probably one of those serial killer groupies. Once he gets my letter, he'll turn to some other poor guy."
"I hope you're right," Alex said.
Mark Caldwell faded from Bobby and Alex's minds in the next two weeks as more immediate problems filled their lives, but he returned one cold and dreary morning when the two detectives dragged their bodies into Major Case after a long night waiting for a perp who never appeared.
"Damn," Bobby muttered as he looked at his computer screen.
Alex looked up from her computer. "What?"
"That Caldwell guy again," Bobby said. "He got my email address."
Alex stood and walked behind Bobby's chair. "Persistent…and a little scary."
"Well, his email is polite enough." Bobby thought for a moment. "But I'm going to show a few of our cards. Let him know that we couldn't find any record of him as a grad student anywhere. Tell him I'm definitely not going to talk to him, and if he keeps after me, there will be consequences."
"Keep his email," Alex advised. "So we can trace it…"
Bobby nodded and hit the "Send" button. "I'll send it and my response to the IT Department."
"Think he'll take the hint?" Alex asked.
"I hope so," Bobby said. "I hate to waste the IT Department's time."
"I think," Alex said carefully as she sat across from Bobby. "You should tell the Captain. Keep him in the loop. If this Caldwell guy is harassing you…Or plans something…We gotta face it, Bobby…You're a lighting rod for trouble, sometimes…Not your fault, but…"
Bobby twirled his pen while he considered Alex's words. "I hate to bother him," he finally said. "But you're right. Better to warn him about nothing than have something bite him in the future."
Alex followed Bobby into Ross' office. The two men had reached a level of détente, but still felt the need to act as a translator and mediator between them. She also wanted to stress that she had a very bad feeling about this Mark Caldwell. As Alex expected, Bobby underplayed and apologized for everything. Ross, much to Alex's relief, took matters seriously.
"I don't like it," the captain said. "Make sure the IT Department follows up on the email. Be sure to contact the people in Ithaca."
"Captain," Bobby said evenly. "This guy really hasn't done anything. It's possible he's just a really persistent grad student."
"I know," Ross said. "But his story doesn't ad up…I'm with Alex…I've got a bad feeling about this."
As soon as they left Ross' office, Alex contacted one of the post offices in Ithaca. "That's odd," the official told her. "That box was closed just yesterday…The guy didn't leave a forwarding address…When he got the box he left the Cornell Psych Department for contact information…Said he had just arrived and didn't have an apartment yet."
"He's certainly acting like someone with something to hide," Bobby said when Alex reported the conversation to him. "I'll bet that email will be from some multiuser computer and we'll have no way of tracking him."
"Sounds like a sucker bet to me," Alex said.
Bobby smiled weakly.
"Goren! Call on line two!" another detective called.
"Goren…Mr. Caldwell…" Bobby looked up at Alex.
Alex sprang to her feet and spoke quickly to the nearest detective, who began the process of getting the call traced.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell," Bobby said in his politest voice. "I really can't help you. I had nothing to do with the Sebastian case. I probably know less about it than you do, since you've been studying it.."
Alex saw Bobby's hand tighten around the receiver.
"I'm not in contact with Dr. Gage, Mr. Caldwell. No…I'm sorry…We never discussed the particulars of the Sebastian case. It occurred a long time after I stopped working with Dr. Gage."
Ross emerged from his office. "Caldwell's on the phone," Alex mouthed to him.
Ross gave her a worried look and moved to help wit the tracing.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Caldwell," Bobby said, continuing to use the same amiable tone. "That I don't understand how I can assist you…Yes…Yes…We did check up on you…But you understand, I'm sure…The Department needs to be careful…"
Bobby's voice betrayed none of his agitation, but Alex saw how tightly he held the phone and how he jabbed his pen into his notebook.
"Mr. Caldwell," Bobby continued. "We didn't mean to cast any aspersions on your character. What kind of a detective would I be if I didn't check on your story? I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any record of your being a student anywhere. If you could just give me some more information…"
Bobby frowned. "Mr. Caldwell…Please…There's no need…Mr. Caldwell…" Bobby stared at the phone. "He hung up…Did we…"
"We've got something," one of the detectives said.
"It probably won't help," Bobby said as he hung up his phone. "Probably a no name cell or a pay phone."
"You kept him on the line for a long time," Ross said. "Good work."
Bobby rested his head on his hand. "He…He got angry so fast…He was perfectly calm…I was starting to believe maybe he was a researcher…and then he got so angry…He said we…We'd regret what we did…That the Department would regret not letting me talk to him…That I'd regret it…"
"We can hope he's showing off," Alex said, but she didn't believe her words any more than Ross or Bobby did.
"We have him on tape making a threat against a police officer," Ross said. "If we can find him, we can charge him with that."
Bobby was right—"Just once," Alex said. "I wish you were wrong about these things."—the call came from a no name cell and was made somewhere in Central Park. Caldwell's threat hung over Bobby and Alex as they tried to follow up on what little they knew about him. Bobby's spirits weren't helped by the reports of Jo and Declan Gage's increasingly poorer health, or by the stories of a persistent young man who identified himself as a student and wanted access to Declan Gage told by Dec's lawyer. Like Bobby, Dec's defense team was plagued by reporters, doctors, writers, and other lawyers, and it was difficult to tell if this young man was a slightly more aggressive example of one of these or Mark Caldwell.
Two more weeks passed with no further contact with Mark Caldwell, and his memory faded with Alex and Bobby's heavy case load. Bobby missed several Saturday mornings with Jo Gage partly because of his work, partly because he spent one with Alex and her nephew Nate.
It was a good day, cold but sunny, with a promise that spring was more than just a hope. A last minute plea bargain saved Alex and Bobby from testifying, and they enjoyed a long, leisurely brunch while that bargain was made. As they entered Major Case in the late morning they engaged in a friendly argument over the prospects for New York City's baseball teams. Bobby hung up his coat, turned, and looked at a Fed Ex box on his desk.
"I wasn't expecting anything," he said.
"Don't look at me," Alex said. "It cleared security…"
Bobby pulled out his knife and carefully cut open the box. He lifted several pieces of plastic and packing paper and jerked as he saw the box's contents. Alex choked back a cry and involuntarily stepped back.
They stared at the photo of a naked young blonde woman. Her eyes were wild with terror above the duct tape that covered her mouth. Her handcuffed wrists were slipped over a hook, and she hung helplessly. Her body was covered in bloody slashes. Printed in precise letters across the bottom of the photo were the words, "You should have talked to me."
END CHAPTER TWO