Alex POV
"Captain, for the past three days, I've asked the same question, and I still haven't gotten an answer. Was the victim a drug addict?"
I wanted to point out that for the past three days, everyone's been asking the same damn questions, so that didn't make Miss Channel 7 special, but instead I smiled at her and took a breath before answering.
"To which victim are you referring?"
Channel 7 rolled her eyes at me, and then looked around in annoyance, as though seeking confirmation from her comrades that I was the biggest moron in town.
"Sally O'Hara," she said firmly.
"Okay, because I wasn't sure since there are four other victims," I reminded her. "Samantha Wright, Kaleigh Marquez, and two others that are still as yet unidentified."
"Yes, Captain," she said in irritation. "I'm referring to Sally O'Hara."
This was a game we've been playing since Monday.
They all want to talk about the senator's daughter.
And I want to remind them that the others are just as important, despite having non-famous fathers.
"The detectives investigating this case have not found any evidence that the crimes are drug-related," I stated.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Well then maybe you're not asking the right questions," I retorted. "Do we have any leads? Yes. Yesterday, a connection was found between two of the girls. Do we have any suspects? No, not yet, but the detectives are working hard to establish who may have had the means and opportunity to commit such heinous acts. Do we know why the killer targeted these girls in particular? No. Not at this time."
I paused and looked out over the press corps for a moment, and then I said, "Now, since I just did your job for a while, I think I'll go back inside and do mine."
The commissioner had decided after the initial conference that the courthouse looked too cold and impersonal, so subsequent sessions were handled outside of 1PP, which suited me just fine. That meant as soon as I was done, I could slip back inside and get back to work.
So after my slightly sarcastic statement, I turned to go inside.
"Captain Eames!" was the chorus of shouts, but I recognized one voice in particulate.
The mouse from Monday.
"Herb," I said, pointing out the reporter from an online New York newspaper.
He smiled at me and stood up a little straighter as he pushed his glasses further up on his face.
"Thank you," he said. "Um…the latest victim. Is it true that there was a note recovered with the body?"
Where in the hell had he gotten that scoop?
It was really hard to say, but I couldn't believe my luck.
"I'm sorry, but I can't comment on that," I said disingenuously.
Herb raised an eyebrow at me, and asked, "You can't confirm or deny? I'm not asking for the specific verbiage, just an acknowledgement."
"Captain, doesn't your lack of denial actually constitute a confirmation?" Channel 7 yelled out to me.
I glanced over at her and flashed her what I hoped was a condescending smile.
"Don't put words in my mouth, Theresa."
"But don't you think that the public has a right to know the details when there's a killer on the loose in Manhattan?"
"It's not just Manhattan. There are five victims, remember? And even though the victims themselves have been recovered in only three of the boroughs, we have reason to believe that he's comfortable in all five boroughs."
"So…the Five Boroughs Killer?"
"That's original. Did you make that up just now?"
Theresa glared at me, and I could tell that she was getting ready to go for the throat, so I turned to face the masses, which I noticed now included several national networks, including CNN, and then I cleared my throat before speaking.
"The fact that the killer isn't limited to Manhattan is just another reason why it's so important that there's a department such as Major Case, where a multi-jurisdictional investigation can be conducted smoothly and efficiently without the ruffling of feathers that often happens when separate precincts are forced to work together on a case. The detectives working to solve these murders are the best that the department has to offer, and I feel confident that each day brings us significantly closer to getting this killer off of the streets. That's all for today. Thank you."
I could hear reporters calling my name even after I went inside 1PP and let the door close behind me.
As was now my routine, I stood for a moment with my back against the door and just breathed.
It was insane how much the TV stations were talking about me now.
Each day, they'd run a clip of the press conference, and then in true media style, they'd spend more time talking about me instead of what I was talking about.
Apparently, they all love my edgy no-nonsense approach and my razor-sharp wit that keeps the reporters in line.
The commissioner had called me earlier this morning to tell me that NBC had asked for an exclusive.
"After you catch the guy," Zaring said. "They want to do some kind of special report called 'Tracking a Killer' and Lauer wants to interview you to get the lowdown. Matt Lauer, Eames, can you believe it?"
"I really don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I have no idea how close we are to making any kind of arrest. And not only that, but I'm not going to go on TV and talk about how we caught a killer when Goren and Logan are the ones doing all the work."
"That's how the game's played, Captain. Get used to it," he said firmly, and then he hung up on me.
If I wasn't careful, I was going to end up on permanent media duty.
If that happened, I was going to have to quit. I mean, one case…yeah, I'd take one for the team.
But on a regular basis?
No thank you.
I didn't remember Ross ever spending this much time on camera.
I finally stepped away from the door and headed down the hall towards the elevators, but before I got there, my cell phone started ringing.
Zaring.
Great.
"Yes, sir," I answered.
"What the hell's this note business? And why'd you let that piranha from Channel 7 weasel the information out of you? Damn, Eames, I thought you were better than that!"
I almost laughed, but I didn't.
"Sir, I can assure you that I didn't unwittingly divulge any information."
"But the note…"
"Doesn't exist," I interrupted. "The tip line's been ringing off the hook with crazies who want to take credit. A false lead will help the detectives weed through the bullshit. Sir."
"There's no note?"
"No, sir."
"Genius," he boomed. "You're a damn genius. Nice work, Captain. Keep it up."
He hung up, leaving me with dial tone, and I couldn't help but smile as I stepped onto the elevator.
This is going to be a great day, I thought.
When I woke up this morning, I found myself alone in the bed, and while that used to be a normal occurrence, for the past year it was a rarity.
I'd gotten up and wandered into the kitchen, where I found Bobby asleep at the table, his head resting on his arms, which were laying on top of case notes.
The fifth victim had been found yesterday morning, and he and Logan had worked tirelessly all day in an effort to get a handle on the perp.
Bobby had gone to bed with me at midnight, but his mind must not have allowed him to go to sleep. I could understand that. I just wished he'd gotten me up so that we could hash it out together.
I told him that after waking him up by kissing his cheek.
He sat up quickly, slightly disoriented, and then he glanced down at his work and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't make it back to bed."
"No, you didn't. Why didn't you wake me up? I would've gone through it with you."
"You need your rest."
"And you don't?"
"I'm not the one on camera, day in and day out," he'd said with a grin, scooting his chair back and patting his lap for me to sit down.
But I didn't sit down sideways on his lap. Instead, I straddled him and took his face in my hands as I kissed him thoroughly.
"So I guess you're not mad that I slept in the kitchen."
"Not this time. But I will be next time, if you don't ask me to join you. I don't care what I look like on camera, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a smirk, and then he kissed me again.
And then, since it was Thursday morning and we hadn't made love since Tuesday night, we worked together to remedy that lapse.
So see?
The day started off great.
After we finished, he and I discussed the case while we showered and dressed for the day.
"We still need to find out the names of those other two girls."
Jane Doe # 1 and Jane Doe # 5.
Those were the unidentified ones.
The second girl found was Kaleigh Marquez, and after extensive searching, we learned that she and Samantha Wright had both volunteered at a soup kitchen in the Bronx last summer.
It was a stretch to think that had something to do with their deaths, but so far it was the only connection between any of the victims.
Of course, if we could get the final two identities, then maybe there would be some more light shed on the reason for the killer choosing them in particular.
Or maybe there was no reason.
Maybe it was about opportunity.
Maybe this was just some sicko who enjoyed killing.
Or sickos.
Bobby and Logan both felt pretty confident about the more than one theory.
"Still no luck with the tip line?" I asked him.
"Too much luck. It's taking forever to figure out which calls are for real."
And that's what had planted the seed for my little game of misdirection this morning with the press.
Herb's question had been unexpected, and yet it was the perfect opportunity.
After the press conference, I went back to my office. I called in Wyatt and Yuille so that I could get an update on the Schuler case. I was surprised that no questions had been asked about that at this morning's session, but it was probably only because there was so much going on with this other case.
The Five Boroughs Killer, I thought with annoyance. Why did the press always find it necessary to name the serial killers?
"She's not using her credit cards or her passport," Wyatt told me.
"Did you check the sister's accounts? Better yet, did you check if there are any other siblings?"
"Um…yes we checked for other siblings. There aren't any. And no, we didn't check the sister's accounts. Can we do that?"
"Get a warrant. She's aiding the escape of a wanted suspect, so that makes her open to investigation."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And where are we on the judge's actual killer?"
Because Martha Schuler had hired that part out.
She'd caught on to the judge's cheating ways when she discovered he was being blackmailed by Misty Hahn. So then she'd contacted Misty and paid her to lure her husband out to Roosevelt Island where she had him killed. And then later, for whatever reason, she'd killed another of Misty's johns, setting the hooker up so that it would look like she'd killed both men.
"Nowhere," Yuille said. "We went to talk to Misty again to pump her for more information on this guy, and…well…"
"Don't tell me."
Wyatt and Yuille had both clammed up, taking my statement at face value, so I said it for them.
"You can't find her."
"No, ma'am."
"She's out on bail, so she's violating if she's left the jurisdiction. Put out an APB and send a unit to sit on her apartment. I want her brought in, and if she truly tried to run, I want her bail revoked. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am. We're...sorry about…all of this.," Wyatt said apologetically.
"Don't be sorry. Just find these women. Both of them."
They left my office and I saw Granger and Meeks lurking outside my door, so I waved them in.
"What's up?"
"We've got a suspect in the Hyland case," Meeks said. "We need to go pick him up."
"Okay, then. Go," I said agreeably.
"It's Father Carson," Granger clarified.
"The victim's priest?" I asked, and they both nodded. "How sure are you?"
"He lied about where he was, and he lied about knowing the victim. The TOD and witness statements combine to show that the victim was at the community center within twenty minutes of his death, and two other kids who were there that night have placed Father Carson at the scene."
"No physical evidence?"
"We're still waiting on lab results from the trace evidence that the ME pulled from the body, but…"
"Yeah. People are running lately," I said drolly. "Okay, go get him, but be nice. Put him in a room and have a chat with him. Let me know when you get back, because I'd like to listen in."
"You got it, Captain," Meeks said.
They left my office and I could see Bobby and Logan coming into the squad room with a suspect in tow. Or more likely a witness who needed a little convincing to open up and share.
I got up from my desk because I wanted to find out the story on this guy, but then my phone rang, so I paused and snagged it from the cradle.
"Captain Eames," Maas said when I answered. And he sounded strange. For some reason, he enunciated each syllable of my name.
It's amazing how rapidly this day was taking a downward turn.
"Captain Maas," I replied expectantly. "What can I do for you?"
"I need you upstairs. Like, now."
"Okay," I said carefully. "Um…are you going to give me a hint?"
There was a weighty pause and then when he started talking again, his voice had dropped to a barely audible decibel, and it was clear that now he was talking to me as Stanley instead of as my boss.
"No, just...no."
"I'm on my way."
"Good. And Alex…"
"Yeah?"
"Bring your armor."
TBC...