The night had been a nightmare.
Nikki had spent the afternoon trying to kill time, punching the heavy bag in the basement that was normally only used by Mike. Then she got on the cross trainer and switched to the climber.
After that, she went online to newspaper portals, gossip forums, and Facebook, turned on the TV, and stared at the screen without really registering what she was watching. The previous night was still on her mind, so she had fallen asleep at some point.
She rolled out of bed and stood under the shower for several minutes. Mike had stolen out of the house and still hadn't checked in, which meant there was no news from Jennifer Mcmillan. She checked her smartphone, but there hadn't been any activity there either since the previous evening.
After she had breakfast, she left the house. She swore to herself that she would definitely not spend the day like the last. If Nick wanted to start disciplinary proceedings against her or transfer her to another unit or, better still, to another city, anything was better than doing nothing.
Jennifer Mcmillan had been missing for almost three days. If this maniac had continued as before, she would probably still be alive. However, Nikki couldn't imagine what the guy might have done to her so far.
She had to do everything she could to ensure that Jennifer was found. And she already knew where to start.
She was lucky; Dunin, the photographer, was at home. He seemed surprised that Nikki was at his door again.
"I'm sorry to bother you again, but we... I'm desperately looking for a clue as to what might have happened to Jennifer McMillan. Maybe there's something in one of your pictures that we haven't noticed yet. So I'd like to look at the pictures again."
"Oh... okay, if you say so. Come in." Dunin didn't seem very enthusiastic, which Nikki could understand.
In the hallway, she turned around. "There is something else you need to know. I have been removed from the case and temporarily suspended because I am personally affected by Jennifer's disappearance. I can only ask you as a private citizen to help find Jennifer before it's too late."
Dunin frowned. "You're suspended because you're personally affected?" He shook his head. "That's hard to understand. Especially when you have a personal interest in finding Ms. Mcmillan, you'll be especially eager to find her."
"Yes, and that's precisely where the problem lies. When you're working so hard, you're more likely to go a step further than the rules allow."
"Well... all right, I'll show you the pictures."
"Would you mind putting them on a USB stick so I can look at them properly at home?"
"Well... I'll only do that if I can rely on you not to pass on any of the pictures."
Nikki nodded slowly. 'You have my word of honor on that.'
They went to Dunin's desk, where the photographer retrieved the pictures from the gala with a few clicks.
"Is that all of them?" Nikki asked with a frown, as the number seemed small to her.
"All that's left. I've already sorted out the not-so-good ones and deleted them."
"Fuck. For good?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why don't you open the trash?"
Dunin understood. "You're right. We shouldn't have any trouble finding them there."
In fact, at least fifty pictures from the evening were in the deleted files folder.
Dunin undid the deletion, but the pictures returned to the original folder. The first picture the photographer clicked showed Jennifer standing in a group of people. She radiated pure joie de vivre. Nikki gasped and cleared her throat.
Dunin looked up at her anxiously. "Are you all right?"
Nikki licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Can I use your bathroom for a moment?"
"Yes, of course."
Nikki turned on the sink faucet and moistened the back of her neck with cold water, then looked at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible. Her skin looked sallow, almost gray. The red-rimmed eyes added to the effect that her face seemed strange to her.
She tore herself away from the sight and splashed some cold water on her face. Then, she dried her face and hands and hung the towel back on the hook. Her gaze fell on Dunin's wristwatch lying on the shelf under the mirror. The glass was cracked, but it still worked. It was already 11:30 a.m. She wanted to pay Carducci to visit the editorial office before lunch and would have to hurry.
When she returned, Dunin stood up and held out a USB stick. "All the pictures from that evening are on here."
Nikki took the USB stick and walked behind the photographer towards the front door, "Thank you. Maybe I'll be lucky and find something in the pictures."
"She's important to you, isn't she?"
Nikki paused and pressed her lips together for a second. "You could say that."
"Yes, I understand that. I only see Jenny at events, but she is a great woman."
Nikki smiled tightly and held up the USB stick. 'Thanks again for the pictures.'
"I trust you'll delete all the pictures when you no longer need them."
She paused again, a feeling stirred within her, but she couldn't name it. She smiled once more and left the house.
xxx
It took Nikki almost forty minutes to get to the editorial office, so she didn't arrive until just after noon. She hoped to catch Carducci in his office before he left for lunch. She was lucky in that regard, at least. The conversation, however, went very differently than the detective had imagined. After she'd told Upton's boss the truth about her status and mentioned her suspension, Carducci looked at her with a cold gaze.
"So I'm supposed to answer more of your questions." He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "You know, life is a give and take. I remember arriving at a crime scene a few days ago. I was the first journalist there and would have had a good story if I had gotten some information. Nothing that would have jeopardized the investigation, just a few details for an article. However, the two detectives from the homicide division on the scene didn't feel like helping me and turned me down. I find it funny that one of those two detectives is standing before me now, asking me for a favor. Don't you?"
"This is completely different. We couldn't give you any information because we didn't know much more than you do. Besides --"
"You should leave now, Detective O'Laighin. We have nothing to discuss."
Nikki was stunned. "You're risking the death of a young woman out of wounded vanity? Are you serious?"
"Are you leaving voluntarily, or must I call the cops?"
Nikki uttered a crude curse and left the office, but not without forcefully closing the door.
xxx
When she arrived at her house, she immediately sat at her laptop and copied the pictures from Dunin's USB stick to her hard drive. While the system was still busy transferring the data, Nikki entered the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the fridge. She had had enough alcohol for the next while.
She opened the first picture back on the laptop, looked at it briefly, and closed it again because Jennifer wasn't there. As it turned out, it was one of the few photos without her. She could be seen in almost every other picture, sometimes smiling gently, sometimes laughing heartily, rarely serious.
Jennifer must have talked to practically every one of the guests that night because there were not only pictures of Carducci and Andrew Meyer; she was standing with other people in almost every picture. That didn't make it any easier to find something that could give Nikki a hint as to who Jennifer left the event with at around 1:30 a.m.
She had even talked to Upton, but there was only one picture of that. Besides, Upton had a pretty good alibi unless he had raced from the BPD across Boston that night to intercept Jennifer as she was leaving the gala.
Another picture shows Jennifer with two women, all three holding glasses. Nikki scanned the background of the picture but found nothing suspicious. She was about to move the cursor to the corner to close this motif as well when she spotted something that took her breath away. No, that couldn't be; she must be mistaken.
The detective enlarged the image, moved it until she had the corresponding image section in front of her, and enlarged it even further. Then, there was no longer any doubt, and the realization almost robbed her of her senses.
Nikki sat on the couch for a moment as if she were turned to stone. She wanted to lean closer to the screen, but her muscles refused to obey her. But that didn't matter anymore. She had seen what she wanted to see. And she could have slapped herself for not realizing who this psychopathic lunatic really was from every detail, from every word.
She grabbed her smartphone and dialed a number she knew by heart, even in her sleep.
"Jesus, Nikki, I told you --" Mike started, but Nikki immediately interrupted her husband.
"Mike, I know who our killer is."
"What?"
Nikki's voice almost cracked as she told him what she had discovered in the picture and what it meant. She said she would leave immediately and hoped Mike would help her. Without waiting for an answer, she ended the call, jumped up from the couch, and rushed out of the house.
She drove at full throttle. As she sped through the streets of Boston, maneuvering the car through narrow lanes to avoid the main routes and traffic lights, her mind went crazy. So many thoughts were racing through her head at once that she could not pick up on any of them and think them through to the end.
She hammered on the horn, swerved to avoid other vehicles, and swore and cursed.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally arrived. As soon as the car came to a stop, Nikki jumped out. She opened the driver's door and ran to the entrance with her backup weapon. She knocked and hoped that it would open to her unsuspectingly. But nothing happened; it remained quiet, and only the sound of an approaching vehicle could be heard. Hopefully, Mike, she thought and breathed a sigh of relief when her husband's familiar car actually turned the corner. He parked the vehicle next to Nikki's and drew his weapon as he approached her. "And?"
"Nothing. I'll break the window now."
"Nikki, are you sure that's really --"
"Absolutely," she replied while she weighed the flashlight in her hand, with which she skillfully and quietly broke the window next to the front door the next moment. The clinking was barely audible. With a few swift movements, she knocked the rest of the glass out of the lower part of the window and unlocked the door from the inside. Seconds later, they were standing in the hallway.
She and Mike started with the living room. Mike secured the area, and Nikki turned to face the entrance with a calm but swift movement and pointed the gun into the room. Her gaze scanned the room in a flash. Nothing. Next was the kitchen, then the bathroom, and the study. Room by room, the two detectives worked their way through the ground floor and finally stood at the stairs leading down to the basement. A few steps further led to the upper floor. Mike looked at his wife questioningly.
"I'm going to the basement," she whispered. If Jennifer was being held in this house, she thought the basement was the more likely place for her to be held.
Mike clenched his teeth so hard that his chewing muscles were clearly visible in the dark, but he nodded and indicated that he would check the upper floor. They couldn't risk going downstairs together and possibly giving the murderer the chance to escape if he was still upstairs.
Carefully, Nikki took one step after another, finally reaching the tiled basement floor. Her breathing was shallow and rapid and seemed unnaturally loud to Nikki, even though she tried to avoid making noise. After a quick look around, she started with the door at the far end. She carefully placed her hand on the doorknob, closed her eyes for a moment as she turned it, and then gently pushed the door open to step into the room at gunpoint. A heater, an oil tank, a few boxes of tiles on the floor, nothing else.
The next door, the same procedure. Hold your breath and go. The scene that Nikki now faced hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. Her mind quickly absorbed the details, and in a split second, her body flooded with adrenaline.
Thickly paneled walls, in the corner a toilet bowl without a seat, a cot.
Jennifer Mcmillan on a chair next to it, naked, legs spread wide, showing a terrible, large wound. The body was covered all over with horrific injuries, bloody streaks everywhere. Her head hung limply, as did her right arm. The hand was stuck in a canister. Something stuck out of her forearm, too.
Opposite her, Patrick Dunin, also naked, sweating profusely. One hand on Jennifer's breast, an extended finger deep in the wound where a nipple had once been. He was busy with himself between his legs with his other hand. While Dunin still had his head turned towards her, she increased her pace, gripped the handle of her gun tighter, and put her index finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. She had to fight herself not to do that in the first second.
"Boston Police!" she said loudly and emphatically, repeating it three times without Dunin reacting. Only a disgusting smile spread across his face as he continued to fiddle with his hand between his legs.
Nikki tried to assess the situation with wide eyes. Patrick Dunin was sitting naked, and therefore unarmed, in front of the battered Jennifer Mcmillan, which meant that there was no visible reason for her to fire a deadly shot at him, even if the irrational part of her brain was demanding just that. The rational part told her that she should not hurt him at all or only as little as possible so that he could be held accountable for all his actions while still alive. She approached Dunin with slow, careful steps while he continued to grin at her, not listening to what he was doing. The moment he was within her reach, she came to the only logical conclusion for her as to how she could subdue him without causing him more serious harm. So she raised her weapon and struck the hilt down hard on his head once.
Dunin grunted loudly and winced, but didn't stop what he was doing, so she repeated the blow a second and a third time until he fell forward and made sounds that hardly sounded human anymore.
Hastily, Nikki slid her sidearm into the belt holster and was with Jennifer in two steps. She whispered the actress's name, uttering it like an order to give a sign of life.
Jennifer didn't react.
Nikki looked at her body, which was one big bloody wound, not knowing where to touch Jennifer. Her gaze fell on the hanging arm, in which there was a deep cut, and blood was flowing out of it. She immediately pressed her fingers over the wound and squeezed as hard as she could.
Behind her, she heard a noise, then her name. Mike.
Nikki quickly looked over her shoulder. "Mike, an ambulance, quickly," she said. Her voice sounded unnaturally strange. She looked closely at Jennifer Mcmillan. The actress was still alive; she knew that, after all, she felt her blood pulsating between her fingers. "Jennifer," she whispered. "You have to stay with me. Please." She looked over Jennifer's body again. She had to free the woman from this humiliating position. Right now. With trembling fingers, she loosened the straps that held Jennifer's legs apart. She swore as her fingers kept slipping off the knots. Finally, she had done it and could catch the actress's limp body as it tipped forward. There was nothing about Jennifer that suggested she was still alive.
Nikki looked up briefly, saw that Mike was dealing with Dunin, who was still lying on the floor and turned back to the actress. The next few minutes felt like one of those nightmares that seemed to go on forever, in which everything happens in slow motion.
At some point, someone pulled her arm. Nikki wanted to lash out at the attacker, but it was a paramedic who looked at her sympathetically while a second paramedic bent over Jennifer Mcmillan.
She let herself be pushed to the side. The two paramedics were busy tending to her friend, then a third one arrived. The nightmare around her wouldn't end.
Nikki stood leaning against the wall like an object placed there and watched the paramedics. She looked down at her hands and saw that Jennifer Mcmillan's blood was on them. Meanwhile, even more people had come to the basement. Most likely, more detectives. Either they didn't speak, or Nikki didn't hear what they were saying. She didn't care. Her focus was on Jennifer McMillan. At some point, the paramedic treating her straightened up. Slowly. Way too slowly. Then she left the actress. The other paramedics left Jennifer, too.
Nikki saw the look on the female paramedic's face. She recognized it from the past.
She closed her eyes and ran her hand over her forehead, not caring that it was bloody. "Fucking hell," she exclaimed.
"She just lost too much blood," the female paramedic said to her. "Her body couldn't process it."
Nikki nodded with compressed lips, sniffed, wanted to say something, and didn't know what in the next moment. The world didn't consist of words anymore. It only consisted of her and one other person.
Slowly, she turned around and saw Patrick Dunin sitting on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, flanked by Mike and Thune.
"It would have worked," Dunin said. 'It would have worked with her if you hadn't shown up.'
Even as Nikki walked towards him, she heard Mike's voice shout, 'Veronica, no!' Before it was too late, he grabbed his wife by the hip and dragged her away from Dunin while she was lashing out and spitting venom and bile.
After a while, Mike was sure that nothing more would happen and released his wife from his iron grip.
After Dunin was led out of the basement, Mike and the rest of the detectives left to give Maggie and her team the space they needed to collect evidence and also at Jessica's body without disturbing them.
Nikki watched as Thune and an officer led Patrick Dunin, now wrapped in a blanket, to a second ambulance and began pacing. Again, she put her blood-encrusted hand to her forehead. "Damn it."
Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Nikki, it's over."
"I should have shot him," she said as if she hadn't heard his words. She took several steps towards the ambulance, to which the grinning Dunin was being led, and pointed at him with all the strength she could muster. "I should have just shot you!"
"Nikki," Mike said firmly, standing in her way, 'it's finally over.'
Nikki looked at him with wide eyes, tears welling up in them. 'I should have seen it coming,' she whispered to him.
He sighed loudly and embraced his wife, who began to tremble.