Maggie ran towards her door, and looked into the corridor. Both Alex and whoever had dropped the note were nowhere in sight. Her shaking hands still held the paper, as she read through it again.
The only person that could have possibly known about that conversation was Michael. She'd made him promise that Alex wouldn't see her body back in the cell, so it was the only explanation.
But Holmes being the killer? It somehow seemed like a stretch.
However, all things considered. Holmes had access to the evidence room. He could have seen Ian work the case - as they were both homicide detectives, maybe even occasionally partners. Ian would have told him if he knew something. And he'd been on her tail ever since she started figuring it out.
It made so much sense, in retrospect. And Holmes had been there before, so she knew where she and Alex lived.
Instinctively, Maggie ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, until she was on the ground floor. She ran into the street, looking around, but didn't see Alex or Holmes anywhere.
"Shit…" She whispered. She couldn't call for back-up from the NCPD, because she wasn't working the case, and Holmes was. It would be her word against his - and she'd stolen case files, trespassed and crashed her car under influence in the past 24 hours.
Nobody would believe her.
She waited for what felt like hours, until finally Alex appeared again from an alleyway, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily and shaking her head. "He got away."
"It's Holmes." Maggie swallowed thickly. "He's the killer. We need to look for connections between him and those women."
Alex nodded. "What did the note say?"
Maggie hesitated. The crumpled paper in her hands was invisible to Alex, so she could get away with it if she lied. But remembering their earlier conversation, she handed it over anyway. They were partners now.
As Alex read the note, her jaw clenched and she looked up again. "That's against the MO. If he's not going to leave a body, it means he's derailing. So at least we're onto something."
"Yeah, I mean, if it's Holmes, then of course we're onto something. The guy hates my guts, he'd be happy seeing them splattered all over the walls."
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose, as they started walking back up the stairs to her apartment. "How do you know it's him?"
"The note. It's referencing a conversation we had when he came to bail me out. He's the only one that could have known about it."
"And what do your instincts tell you?" Alex crossed her arms to listen. She knew that both of their intuitions as law enforcement were usually on point. But Maggie was more involved in the case.
The detective frowned. "I ignored all the signs, but it was right in front of me. It's him."
"Okay. We need the NCPD database for cross-referencing, to find a connection between the victims and Holmes, then. Can you get to a computer?"
They entered the apartment again. "I can get to my desk. They're going to ask questions, because I'm not supposed to be there, but I'll make it work."
"I'll go to the bar and get info on Scarlet." Alex sighed, rummaging through her drawer to finally find what she was looking for: earpieces. She handed one to Maggie, and activated her own. "I'm dropping you off at the precinct, but I want you to check in every five minutes. If I don't hear anything, I'm coming immediately."
After making sure that they had everything they needed, and taking photographs of the case files so they both had back-ups, the pair left the apartment once again.
"Sawyer?" The receptionist seemed genuinely surprised to see her. Maggie smiled weakly as she walked in. "Yeah. I just forgot some stuff at my desk that I have to come pick up."
"Cooper won't be happy to hear that. He's got uniforms at your apartment, but I heard someone say that you haven't been there since he did."
Maggie shook her head. "I have a lot of stuff on my mind. I can't just sit at home, my fiancée is recovering from surgery, and I need to be there for her."
The receptionist nodded solemnly. "Give her my best wishes, then."
After a grateful nod, Maggie disappeared into the elevator, looking at her watch and tapping the earpiece. "Check in, time 10.03. I'm in the elevator."
"I just got to the bar." Was the almost immediate reply. "Remember: if you see Holmes, you get out. The last thing we need is to give him another reason to make a scene."
Maggie confirmed, before disconnecting once again as the elevator doors opened. Thank god it was past working hours, and the few scattered working officers and detectives didn't pay attention to her. Cooper was probably home too, so at least she'd have space to work.
Instead of heading into the bullpen, she walked over to the science division's meeting room. She knew there was a computer there, and the on-call detective wouldn't be around as they would be patrolling.
She locked the door behind her, drew the blinds so that nobody would see her, and got to work. Brittany Armstrong, Caroline Woodson, Ella Sands, Florence Bates.
Hospital, stripper bar, school zone, restaurant. If she could prove that Holmes had been there at the times of their disappearances, she had a case.
Though it was an analyst's work, and someone trained could have done a much faster job, it didn't take her too long to get something interesting.
Holmes had a 22-year old daughter. She was 17 at the time of the murders, the same age as Ella Sands, the third victim. And the records showed that they were attending the same high school.
A tangible piece of evidence. Not enough to build a case, but enough to go on. To get a link with the stripper bar, she needed to head over there and check if anybody recognized Holmes as a client. But the first and fourth victim were a mystery. Though those two would be the most interesting ones.
The start, and the finish.
"Maggie?" Alex's voice came in her earpiece. She cursed, as she'd already forgotten to check in, too focused on the screen in front of her. "Sorry, I'm here. I'm working the database."
"You said that you met the bartender?"
"This afternoon, but he only works early shifts. Caucasian, brown hair, around 25."
A beat of silence. "Yeah, he's here, working."
Maggie frowned. "That's odd. Can you get something out of him?"
"I'll try. I've asked around, but so far I haven't really gotten anything. As soon as I mention Scarlet, their eyes light up. So I assume it's expensive stuff, and very much in demand."
"The bartender gave it to me for free… If it's really that expensive, then either he was really into me, or he gave me a fake."
"Which would explain a lot about the side-effects too." Alex grunted. "Alright. Keep me posted."
"Same."
After that, Maggie went back to work, trying to determine if Holmes' daughter and Ella Sands had anything to go on.
"A beer, please." Alex tapped the bar, as she took a seat. The bartender eyed her, and grabbed a bottle. "Haven't seen you around."
"I try not to come here too often. You know, I'm human. That would kinda defeat the purpose of this bar."
The bartender tilted his head. "Plenty of humans come here. They allowed me to work here. It's fine. Don't worry about it, just come to have a good time."
"Mhm…" Alex grunted, looking around suspiciously. "Still though. I heard there are cops around here."
He laughed. "The only cop I've ever seen around here is that detective chick, and at least she's kinda nice. Doesn't arrest too many people, doesn't break too many fingers." He seemed to think about it. "Well, her, and that one guy that always comes in early."
Interesting.
Alex tried to look casual about it. "What, he's an alcoholic or something?"
The guy laughed, shaking his head. "Wouldn't be surprised."
She waited for him to continue, but that seemed like all he wanted to say on the matter. Well, of course, if he really was part of some alien drug scheme, he wouldn't exactly talk about it with any bar patron in the room.
But if Holmes really came in to buy alien drugs, that was another piece of the puzzle. One step closer to figuring out the truth.
She considered her options. Sending somebody undercover to catch him buying would at least discredit him. But it wasn't enough.
Plan B it was.
She looked around casually, while absent-mindedly scratching her lower arm. Over, and over, until finally, the bartender caught what she was doing. "You alright?"
Alex looked up at him, quickly stopping the scratching. "Yeah, sorry, don't worry about it."
He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her. "You need a fix?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to look caught. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're scratching your wrist. That means you're hooked on something."
Alex shushed him quickly, looking around to see if anybody heard him. Perfect. He was falling for it.
He only seemed more intrigued by her erratic behavior. "Probably Inferno, right? Yeah, that shit makes your skin burn until you get a new dose."
It's a good thing she'd read the memos of the alien drug investigation.
She knew reading CC'ed emails would one day turn out in her favor.
"Stop talking unless you've got some." She hissed at him.
He laughed. "Sorry, sweetheart. All out. But the guy should come back tomorrow morning with new stuff, if you can make it back."
"I can't wait until morning. I need it now." She grunted.
"20 bucks, and I'll tell you where you can find him."
She didn't hesitate in slapping a 50 dollar bill on the table. "I was never here, we didn't talk about this."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart. You'll find him on the corner of Broadway and Seventh. A diner. 6 feet, suit, briefcase."
Alex nodded; finishing her beer and getting up.
As she walked out, she tapped the earpiece subtly. "Maggie? I have something."
"Talk to me." Maggie said, as she leaned backwards. Researching both teenage girls on the internet had made her conclude that they did in fact know each other, went to the same parties and had a few classes together, but she didn't see any indication that they were fighting, or that something dramatic had happened between the two of them, causing her father to snap.
"Corner of Broadway and Seventh. I'm meeting one of the dealers. According to the bartender, there's another cop coming into the bar early mornings to get drugs. It might be Holmes. I'm going to get the dealer to give up the name."
"Alex, those guys don't fuck around…" Maggie frowned. "I'm coming with you."
"No, it's fine. I have it under control. And if something goes wrong, I'll call Kara. But you need to get more evidence."
Maggie grunted, but eventually gave in. "Fine. Just… Be careful, please."
"Do you have anything?"
"The youngest victim and Holmes' daughter were friends from school. But so far it could still be a coincidence. I'll keep looking."
"Got it. I'll check in when I'm at the diner."
Maggie sighed, and grabbed the phone next to the computer, dialing the number now showing on her screen. She waited for the click.
"... National City General Hospital."
"Good evening. Sorry to bother you at this hour. Detective Maggie Sawyer, NCPD. I need some records checked."
"Let's see…" Maggie heard a few keyboard keys being clicked. "... What are you looking for?"
"I'm just doing some administrative work, and I see that one of our detectives, Michael Holmes, was admitted in September 2012. The rest of the report seems to be missing. Could you maybe send it to me?"
Another minute of waiting, the silence filled with keyboard strokes. "Hmm… No, I'm sorry. I don't see any record of a Michael Holmes being admitted around that time."
Maggie closed her eyes, improvising quickly. "What about his daughter, Rose Holmes? I'm sorry, the record is incomplete so I'm grasping at straws here…"
A strategic move. Asking for sympathy. It seemed to work, as the woman on the other side of the line laughed weakly. "It's late for everybody, detective. I understand… Well, there is a record of a Rose Holmes here, but she was just brought in for a physical exam. That's about all the information I can give you over the phone."
"I'll just mark it down as irrelevant for the insurance, then. The date on the form says Friday September 7th, 2012. Could you just tell me if that's right?"
"It was actually Thursday the 6th." The woman replied.
"Okay. Thank you so much, sorry again for bothering you. Have a good night, ma'am."
Maggie grunted as soon as she put the phone down. A vague physical exam couldn't possibly connect a trauma nurse to Holmes.
Back to square one.
She hoped Alex had more luck.
Alex took off her helmet, and tucked it underneath her arm as she headed into the diner. She checked in with Maggie quickly, but her girlfriend's answers were curt. She imagined Maggie must be getting frustrated with the lack of information.
Alex herself had never done a case like this. She was part of a black ops team, that did crisis management, secured the threat, pulled it out of the situation and then disappeared without a trace to the layman's eye. The DEO didn't handle cases that happened five years ago. She was used to having witnesses on the spot, that told her instantly what was going on.
But now, with the inability to even start interviewing witnesses about details of events from years ago, the meager evidence they had would fall apart the second it stopped making sense.
She had to focus on what was in front of her right now. Connecting Holmes to the alien drug network.
Another step, and she entered the diner, nodding politely at the waitress and looking around. There was a couple of teenagers staring longingly into each other's eyes, an old man was reading the paper and drinking from a cup of coffee.
And in the corner, on his laptop, sat a businessman. A briefcase in the booth next to him. He looked human enough to blend into the crowd. Probably necessary, for the business he was doing.
She walked over to him, and plopped down into the booth facing him. "You have something I need."
He looked at her, over the top of his laptop, and raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that."
Alex beckoned the waitress, and smiled. "Can we both get an iced water, please?"
As the woman walked off, she noticed how the businessman had shifted in his seat. She turned to him. "What's wrong? You don't like ice?"
He continued to stare her down.
"Sensitive teeth?" Alex smirked. "Or maybe you don't like ice because you're Infernian?"
The alien reached for his laptop and moved up to leave, but Alex reached forward and slammed the lid shut forcefully. He finally sighed. "What do you want? I'm all out for today."
"I want a name."
"I don't have a name."
Alex scowled. "Not yours. I couldn't care less about you, and the things you do... I'm looking for one of your clients. Male. Comes in to the bar to get your stuff. A cop."
"My business revolves around anonymity." He smirked up at her. "I value my client's privacy. It's not my place to ask questions."
"But it is mine. So if you want to keep running your little business, I'd suggest you cooperate. Before I am forced to activate that tracker I just put on your laptop, and tell my friends about you. Then we'll see how long it takes before there's a nice black van waiting for you on the corner."
The Infernian seemed struck, but didn't back down. "I'm not giving you any names."
"Why do you care? He's one customer. You have fifty others that pay the same money, and another fifty ready to take his place. I'm not asking you to give up your business. I need. his. name."
The alien hesitated. "Look, he's a cop. If he knows I told you, he'll come after me with the same threats."
"I can protect you."
He laughed. "Sure. Until you walk out of here with what you need. Then you couldn't care less about what happens to me."
"Well, you are in violation of the law by dealing illegally, so I guess you shouldn't be judging me too hard for not caring." Alex tilted her head. "Guess you have nothing to lose then. It's him or me. Roll the dice."
The Infernian sighed, looking away. After a few seconds, he finally opened his mouth. "Cooper. Rick Cooper."
Alex's stomach sank. But she tried not to let it show, as she got up, and walked out of the diner without another word, or look back.
"Maggie." She said into her earpiece as soon as she was outside. "It's not Holmes. It's your boss, Cooper."
Her girlfriend sighed in defeat on the other side. "I'm stuck. We'll pick it up tomorrow, I'll meet you home."
Maggie got up, switched off the computer and went over her notes as she yanked the earpiece out of her ear and tucked it into her pocket. She couldn't pin Holmes at any of the locations. And now that she heard that he wasn't into the alien drugs, they were further away from an answer than they were before. But the clock was ticking, and Maggie knew it.
She took the elevator down into the lobby, and was saying goodbye to the receptionist, when she heard her name being called. She looked up to see a familiar face running towards her from the door.
"Hayden." She frowned, completely surprised to see Ian's oldest son at the precinct. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you, Maggie." He looked serious. "Alone."
"Alright… Well, I was on my way home, you can come with me, if you-..."
Hayden interrupted her quickly, shaking his head. "Can we head to my car? I'll drive us somewhere."
"...Sure." Maggie nodded slowly, smiling politely at the receptionist once again, before walking out of the precinct, and towards Hayden's car.
She got into the passenger seat, and shut her door as she put on her seatbelt. Hayden looked around, before getting in the car and starting the engine.
Maggie didn't hear him lock the doors.