"You can't be serious!"
Castella didn't quite know how to react to Elizabeth's announcement to her and Maura.
Elizabeth had told Nikki not to speak to anyone about Jack's message under any circumstances. She would be able to point out later that she had temporarily forgotten in light of her general anesthesia. Then Elizabeth had asked Katherine to leave her alone for a few hours and assist the other investigators instead. The experienced psychiatrist had immediately recognized the absolute seriousness in Elizabeth's words. After Katherine had gotten into a cab, Elizabeth got into her car alone and drove straight to Castella in BPD. Over the speakerphone, the lieutenant had asked her to arrange a meeting with her and Maura until she arrived.
"That's how I work," the lieutenant confirmed, keeping a straight face as she sat casually with her legs crossed opposite her captain.
Maura pressed her lips together and crossed her arms before her chest.
"I can't tell you how much time I will need, but I know I will deliver Jack to you today."
Maura's reaction to her daughter's unusual request was surprisingly more relaxed than the captain's. There was audible interest in her words as she asked, "Why shouldn't anyone be able to reach you? That seems unusual to me; we all work as a team."
Elizabeth looked at the prosecutor closely and licked her lips. "If you want to proceed in the usual way, it will take one or two more victims," she replied soberly. "We'll have to wait for the DNA analysis and research all the sales of morphine patches over the past few months."
Castella no longer understood the world. Almost at the end of her tether, she lowered her head for a few seconds. The pressure weighing on her shoulders for days was clearly noticeable. She had thick circles under her eyes, brittle hair, and pale skin.
Elizabeth had also noticed that, for the first time, her hair smelled of a different shampoo than usual. She concluded that her captain had spent the night in a hotel.
She had also noticed that Castella had recently moved her husband's picture to a different position. Whereas it had previously been on the right in front of her computer monitor, it was now moved to the left.
Her phone is to the right of the monitor. Whenever she uses it, she involuntarily sees his image. On the left side, her gaze falls much less often. The two of them completely have been arguing again, but she doesn't want us to notice, so she hasn't removed the picture.
"But that's nonsense! You want me to send you home right before I catch that lunatic?" the petite woman now vented, and it was apparent even to Maura that there was a dose of private anger mixed into that statement. "And what if Jack absconds during this time?"
"He won't," Elizabeth said without doubt. "This case is like a bloody kit. I've got a big box in which I've spent the last few days collecting individual pieces that don't form a picture independently. Now, I have to put them together and do it my way—alone and without a smartphone. And please, don't tell anyone about our conversation."
"You can't do what you're imagining," Maura declared forcefully, rising from her chair.
Elizabeth blinked a few times and furrowed her brows. "I can't? I tell you that I'm going to arrest Jack by tonight, and you come up with a line that usually only comes from batches who run the Facebook page for some agency?"
Castella took a deep breath. "All right," she cut short, finally coming to a conclusion. "The investigation is continuing as normal. Liz, I'm giving you the day off now. It's not my job to control you in your free time, so do everything you can. But remember one thing: if you mess up, you can be in charge of the BPD's Facebook page for the next ten years! Do we understand each other?"
Elizabeth reacted remarkably impassively. "Define bullshit," she challenged her superior.
Maura raised her chin and her eyebrows a little. "I'll take care of that. Bullshit is anything that doesn't lead to me being able to report Jack's capture to the senator today."
Without comment, Elizabeth grabbed her papers and expensive coat, silently noting what Maura had added to her words.
"Conversely, this means that if you are successful, no one in my department will care how you did it. So, Elizabeth, get the bastard!"
xxx
Elizabeth had removed her trouser suit, locked her gun in the gun safe, and switched off her smartphone. All she still had on were gray sweat pants and a plain white T-shirt.
She sat with her legs on her couch and looked at the wall on which she had mounted two shelves, on which only a few decorative accessories were draped. During her visit, Nikki had seen the tidiness of Elizabeth's apartment as the obvious hallmark, and it provided the lieutenant with exactly the environment she needed right now.
The calm that allowed her thoughts to flow and the scent of the expensive red wine in her glass offered her the inspiration to let her ideas circle around in front of her eyes until, piece by piece, they landed in their correct position.
Elizabeth had previously read the report in which the doctor who had attended Steve Knight had given a detailed account of the self-mutilation that had apparently inspired Jack's crime.
The lieutenant had looked again at the pictures of the bodies and crime scenes and thought about the rare firearm. Everything that had come across her analytical mind over the past few days had churned through Elizabeth's mind, stirring until the resulting flow had finally gained momentum.
Again, she saw her rendezvous with her acquaintance, where she had told the story of Pierre la Maire.
The oil on the cat burglar's hands, the fat man who had sat in front of the television in the sports bar, the night she had spent with Maggie, the evening with Katherine, Nikki's leg in plaster, and Godeau's smile when he had held the green cartridge case in his hand.
The red wine released new aromas as Elizabeth let a small sip roll over her tongue.
Once again, the play of scent returned through her throat as she exhaled after swallowing. Only then did the investigation bring her senses back to the forefront. So time passed, and although Elizabeth could not control it herself, the impressions gradually began to coalesce into clearer and clearer images.
Elizabeth sensed that the moment was approaching when a single memory, a single small impression, could either complete the house of cards she had built or bring it crashing down.
The lieutenant smiled with satisfaction, put down her wine glass, switched on her smartphone for a single call, and dialed a number.
"Liz, what is it?" she was greeted.
"I need an address," Elizabeth replied. She then explained to her call partner which source he should use to obtain the desired information.
"Okay, and who are you looking for?"
Elizabeth almost smiled as she replied, "Andrew Moss." After taking down his address, she added, "This conversation hasn't taken place until I get back to you. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm expected."
xxx
"I can't tell you any more; please stay with Detective Fisher for now; he may need your help," Castella answered Katherine's telephone query.
Like the rest of the homicide squad, she had received no information about where Elizabeth was or what she was up to. At least Elizabeth had apologized to her for temporarily cutting off all contact with the outside world in a private, albeit uninformative, text.
"Is Elizabeth doing this straight away?" Katherine asked Mike, who had a long night behind him written all over his face.
Mike poured himself a cup of coffee and took a deep breath. "I don't think anyone knows exactly what Liz is doing, when, and for what reasons," he replied, taking a sip from his cup and turning back to the other detectives working with him to analyze the evidence.
The team listened attentively as Mike summarized the events of the past few hours. "Jack was surprised by Nikki and fled in a hurry. That means he left traces behind that he would probably have removed if he hadn't interfered. The salt packets he left behind have price tags on them. We now know which supermarket he bought them from. There must have been at least ten packets or more; it's certainly not often that much salt is bought in such a small store. The store manager is currently going through the cash register entries with Nick. So, in an hour, we'll know when Jack bought the salt. Then, we check the corresponding recordings from the store's surveillance cameras. Nikki couldn't give us an exact description of Jack's car, but it's a station wagon. We can be sure that it has a remote control and the hazard lights come on when you activate them. That rules out older model years. Moreover, Nikki is sure that her shot must have hit the car when she fell. At least we haven't found the projectile or a bullet hole in another vehicle or on the road itself. So BPD officers are keeping their eyes open for a station wagon with a bullet hole, and as many auto repair shops and parts dealers as possible are being notified."
xxx
While her team at BPD was busy processing new information, Nikki lay alone in her guarded single room, impassively browsing the newspapers the nurse had brought her. As was to be expected, practically all of them dealt with the murder of Kai Sawyer; the Crosshair even devoted the entire first page to the subject, which continued on the third page.
Unthinkingly, Nikki picked up the paper and began to read the article.
As she watched with interest to see how John Michaels presented his view of the case, her attention was suddenly drawn to a detail in the report. Astonished, she fumbled for her cell phone.
xxx
"Thanks to the tracks in the snow, we have the sole profile of Jack's shoes," Mike continued in the BPD. "He's wearing sturdy casual shoes you buy in outdoor clothing stores. Of course, you can also get them online, so this track is less hot than the others. Nevertheless, we'll check the relevant stores around the supermarket where he bought the salt. Maybe he was kind enough to pay with his credit card."
He noticed that his cell phone was vibrating. When Mike saw Nikki trying to reach him, he apologized to the detectives and took the call. "Nikki, what's going on?"
"I can't reach Ma. Castella says you're running the investigation right now," Nikki explained.
"Yeah, Liz is gone, no idea where. Why is it going on?"
"I don't know, but I'm reading this smear magazine, Crosshairs, and this seems a bit odd," his girlfriend explained.
Mike quickly picked up the latest issue, which was lying next to the coffee machine, and asked Nikki to explain the passage.
Katherine realized that something important seemed to have happened and went over to Mike.
"Has this become known in the meantime?" Nikki asked on her cell phone after Mike had also read the passage.
"I'll sort that out straight away," he replied and spoke to his team again. "Please carry on for now, I'll check something." With these words, he ended the phone call with Nikki, grabbed the newspaper, indicated to Katherine that she should follow him, and went out into the corridor with her to make his way to Castella.
"This can't be happening," Mike said as he explained what it was about to Katherine.
It took them a little while to reach the captain's office. After a brief knock, they entered.
"Who's the article from?" Castella asked after she, too, had seen what Nikki had noticed.
"John Michaels," Mike replied.
"Michaels?" Castella wondered, reaching for her cell phone and calling the BPD press office. After a brief conversation, she hung up again and turned to the detective. "Okay, he can't know that. The information is still top secret and definitely not leaked."
"Should I have him picked up for questioning?" asked Mike with a frown.
"Yes," Castella replied sharply. "Bring him in, and quickly! I just hope for his sake he has a damn good explanation."
Mike licked his lips. "And if not?"
Castella looked at Katherine. "What do you mean? Michaels was one of the first at almost every crime scene. And as a journalist, he could have known the witness in the bus driver trial. Moreover, he and his employer are making a lot of money from the murders. What is your expert opinion? Would he be a possible culprit for you?"
Katherine didn't have to think long. "He's been writing about the worst crimes for ages," she replied. "He certainly wouldn't be the first person to be infected by evil at some point."
"All right," Castella said, tapping her desk with determination. "Arrest him. Strong suspicion!"