Nikki arrived at the BPD in less than twenty minutes. Mike was already waiting for her on the third floor. On the way to the station, Nikki had been on the phone with Jennifer's agent and her manager. The man had no idea where Jennifer Mcmillan might be, but at least her agent gave the detective the phone number of a good friend with whom Mcmillan often met. But even this friend could not help Nikki. She hadn't seen or spoken to Jennifer in over a week.
Nikki became increasingly restless with every minute that passed without any sign of Jennifer.
"Well, any word from Jennifer?" Mike slumped down into his desk chair.
Nikki shook her head. 'No, nothing. This isn't good. This isn't good at all.' She felt more helpless than she had in a long time. "Believe me, she would contact us if she could." While she was saying it, she listened to herself to see if it was really what she was telling her husband. Mike nodded, but the way he did it gave Nikki clear doubts. "And you know as well as I do that Jennifer is one of the people our maniac chooses as his victims." By expressing her worst fears so clearly, they suddenly became even more real, moving closer to the realm of possibility. It almost drove her crazy. "What if he kidnapped her last night after the gala?"
Mike tapped away at his keyboard. "Okay. I'm sure everything will turn out to be harmless soon, and your concerns are unfounded, but I understand where you're coming from." He narrowed his eyes a little. "The organizer last night was a certain Andrea Marcia. She is the chairwoman of an association supporting socially disadvantaged children, for whose benefit the fuss took place. Here is her phone number." He read the number, which his wife quickly wrote down on paper.
The call with the woman revealed that she had hardly had time to take care of the individual guests but had seen Jennifer Mcmillan standing with Joe Replay and a few other guests. She also found Mike and her performance more than questionable. The guests talked about almost nothing else for the rest of the evening. Nikki managed to get the names of the two people she had seen Jennifer with.
They were a man and a woman, both actors like Jennifer Mcmillan. Nikki couldn't reach the woman, and the man, a certain Roger Wells, didn't know more than that she had had a few drinks and that this strange musician had been there—an unpleasant person, as Wells emphasized.
After Nikki had ended this conversation, she threw the cell phone onto her desk. "I need to talk to Andrew Meyer. But I won't do it on the cell phone." She stood up and looked over at Mike. "Are you coming with me?"
Mike pushed himself up out of his chair. "Yeah, I don't trust the guy anyway."
On her way out, Nikki gave a female detective Jennifer's cell phone number and asked her to find out where the smartphone was logged in.
xxx
The musician only opened the door after Nikki started knocking on it incessantly. He looked terrible. His hair stood on end in all directions, his face was swollen, and thick bags were under his eyes. Meyer was wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt and black leggings underneath. "What the hell do you want at this hour? You're really starting to get on my nerves."
"We need to talk to you," Nikki explained. "It's about Jennifer Mcmillan."
"All right, come in. But be quiet, I've got a hell of a hangover."
The living room floor was covered in clothes. On the coffee table were various bottles of spirits and two glasses, one-half full.
Nikki pointed to it. "Did you have any visitors last night?"
Meyer dropped onto the couch and held his head, groaning. "Yes, but unfortunately, the lady didn't feel like staying."
She looked at him intently. "Who was the woman?"
He looked up at her. "I don't see what business it is of yours."
Nikki fought the sudden urge to grab the musician by the T-shirt and shake him. "You were with Jennifer Mcmillan for a long time last night. Was she here afterward?"
Meyer frowned. "Huh? Jennifer Mcmillan? Here with me? Oh man, I wouldn't have minded." He eyed Nikki up and down, and a sleazy grin spread across his face. "Just like I wouldn't have minded if you dropped by here one night without a chaperone."
Mike stepped towards the musician but stopped when he felt Nikki's hand on his arm.
Meyer laughed briefly and raised his hands, still eyeing Nikki with a knowing grin. "Besides... I'm afraid I'm not really her type."
Nikki took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.
"When did you last see her?" Mike now intervened.
"How should I know. I don't stare at the fucking clock all the time when there's something to celebrate. Maybe around one o'clock at night or so. She was standing around with that newspaper guy, and I was stuck at the bar."
Nikki pricked up her ears. "Who was she with?"
"Well, with Harry Upton's boss. Carducci or whatever his name is."
"Peter Carducci?" she asked in surprise. The editor-in-chief hadn't mentioned that he was also going to the gala.
"Yeah, that's the one." Meyer put his hands to his temples again. 'Anything else? I feel like crap.'
"It shows," Mike commented. "We'll find our own way out."
xxx
"You spoke to Carducci, didn't you?" Mike started the car and merged into the traffic. 'And wasn't he the one who told you that Upton was at this gala? Did he mention that he wanted to go there too?'
Nikki looked out of the side window while chewing on her cheek. Her concern for Jennifer Mcmillan had not diminished. Quite the opposite. "No."
He looked at her briefly, frowning. "Then maybe you should ask him."
She did that. She called Carducci and learned from the editor-in-chief that he had decided to attend the event at the last minute late that evening. "I may have talked to Ms. Mcmillan for twenty minutes. She was tired and wanted to go home."
"When was that?"
"Around 1:30 a.m."
"Did she leave the event alone?"
"As far as I saw, yes. But of course, I don't know if she met someone else in the foyer."
Nikki thanked him and ended the call. She turned her head to Mike and frowned. "She left at 1:30 a.m. Alone. At least that's what Carducci claims."
Mike nodded slowly. "And now what?"
"To Dunin. Sift through pictures."
xxx
On her way to the photographer, the detective called the detective who had taken care of the cell phone tracking and told Nikki that Jennifer's cell phone had last been logged on to a cell near the venue at around 2 a.m. After that, it must have been turned off.
Nikki's anxiety grew. What reason could Jennifer McMillan have had to voluntarily turn off her smartphone? With every passing minute, the queasy feeling inside her grew more and more into fear.
In contrast to Meyer, Dunin seemed relatively well-rested. He agreed to show them the pictures he had taken at the gala but made it clear that he would not be influenced regarding the publication of the images he had taken of Upton's arrest.
To Nikki's amazement, there were a lot of pictures of Jennifer with a variety of people. When she asked Dunin about it, he nodded. "These are unsorted pictures I took. Ms. Mcmillan makes a good subject, so I like to take a few more shots to ensure that after reviewing and sorting, there are still enough outstanding pictures left."
"What time did you leave the gala?"
Dunin thought about this for a moment. "It must have been around two in the morning. But I guess Ms. Mcmillan had already left by then."
In many pictures, Jennifer stood with Andrew Meyer, and in two pictures, with Carducci. Dunin recognizes some people, but others are strangers to him as well. Nikki selected about fifteen pictures and asked the photographer to upload them to a memory stick for her. She wanted to have one or two IT analysts at the BPD check the images to determine the identity of the people talking to Jennifer.
xxx
When she arrived at the BPD, Nikki gave the flash drive to two IT analysts and asked them to identify the people in the pictures. "Call these people. Ask when Jennifer Mcmillan left the event and if anyone accompanied her," she said to the task force detectives in a commanding tone, looking them over. "And hurry up. Every damn minute counts."
On her way to her desk, she tried Jennifer again, then redialed Peter Carducci's number. "What were you talking to Jennifer Mcmillan about?" she said, cutting right to the chase without saying hello again.
"I'm sorry?" Carducci asked, surprised. "I don't understand..."
"I want to know what you and Jennifer Mcmillan discussed last night. What the hell is so hard to understand about that simple question?"
Mike looked up slowly from the cell phone he was holding. "Veronica," he admonished, frowning.
"I... my God, we made small talk. Nothing specific. Social chitchat."
"Small talk, right. And you didn't talk about the murders?"
"No."
"Don't you find that strange? Atrocious murders are taking place in Boston, and you're enjoying yourself at a gala and not saying a word about it?" Nikki saw Mike's warning look but didn't think about holding back any longer.
"I've answered your questions, Detective O'Laighin." Carducci's tone had suddenly become much icier.
"Why didn't you tell me you also attended the event when we spoke on the phone last night? And why did you only show up when you could assume we were no longer there?"
"I already explained all of that to you. I must admit that I don't like your tone more than I like the insinuation that resonates with it."
"Yes, that may be. But when everyone tells you what's on their mind, and half of it turns out to be nonsense, the tone changes. That would be all."
Nikki ended the conversation and looked at her husband, who looked at her with a deep frown. She got up from her chair and made her way out of the bullpen. "I need a coffee," she murmured.
Mike rose, followed Nikki into the hallway, took her by the arm, pulled her into the break room, closed the door, and looked at her intently. "Nikki, you have to pull yourself together. If someone complains about you and Jennifer's disappearance becomes official, Nick won't be able to do anything but pull you off the case. And right now, I'm almost inclined to think that's a damn good idea."
"What do you mean I should pull myself together?" Nikki hissed, her eyes wide. "Do you think I just retired from Boston and the BPD because I got bored?" She spread her arms and pulled down the corners of her mouth. "If I remember correctly, Michael, my last big case here in the BPD had to do with my apparently best friend driving nine people to their deaths and threatening to drown my little brother and several teenagers like rats! Only this time, it seems that a good friend of mine is not the culprit but another victim. So don't you dare tell me to calm down?"
Mike nodded slowly and sighed loudly; now he understood why she was so upset. "Nikki, we have a series of murders to solve. I know that you are upset because Jennifer is not in touch with you, but we still have no evidence that she has been kidnapped. What we have here, however, are three dead women, each more badly mutilated than the other. We have to take care of them. Urgently!"
"But that's exactly the point," Nikki hissed emphatically, pointing to herself. 'What if this maniac has grabbed Jennifer? I can't afford to fail again.'
Mike nodded again and looked at her with a frown. "But that's why we must continue to work hard on the case, Nikki."
Nikki wanted to say something, but then she closed her eyes and put her hands on her head, taking several deep breaths. She looked at her husband again, nodded, and pursed her lips. "Okay," she breathed. "Okay, you're right." She opened the break room door and returned to the bullpen with Mike without the cup of coffee she had supposedly needed. She looked at the other detectives and frowned. "There's been a question nagging at me all day: is it a coincidence that Miriam Labo's body turns up just as Harry Upton is getting kicked out of his house by his wife? Even though she's been dead almost two weeks?"
Mike sat back down at his desk. "You still think he had something to do with it?"
Nikki went to the bulletin board and tapped on Harry Upton's picture, which was pinned to it. "Let's put it this way: if Harry Upton were our man, we could at least be reasonably sure that he didn't kidnap Jennifer. He was here with us in the BPD until after midnight."
Mike leaned back in his chair as he examined the bulletin board. "If Jennifer Mcmillan had really been kidnapped, he would have had to drive straight back to the gala from here to avoid missing it. I think that's unlikely."
Nikki looked at him almost defiantly and crossed her arms over her chest. "But not impossible. Let's think this through. If Upton was forced to get rid of his dead lover because he was kicked out of his house, that would mean he hid her in the house."
"I can't imagine that either. It's way too risky."
"Me neither. But why would he present it to us at this particular time?"
Mike massaged his bearded chin and then raised his hand a little. 'Because the hiding place also belongs to his wife but is out of the way.'
Nikki immediately knew what her husband meant. 'The cabin in the woods."
Mike nodded slowly. 'Exactly."
She nodded quickly in agreement. "Come on, let's go there."
"Slow down. We won't get a search warrant for the cabin; you know that, as I do. Our guesswork is too vague for that."
"Who said anything about a search warrant? I want to drive out there and take a look at the cabin. Look through the window. Who knows, maybe we'll notice something."
When Mike didn't react, she put her hands on her hips. "We're just sitting here anyway, doing nothing. So, what's it going to be? Are you coming with me, or should I go alone?"
Mike didn't look very enthusiastic. Nevertheless, he got up and nodded resignedly.