Authors: Stephanie Whitlock
Flipping through the heavily redacted file, she skimmed over the little evidence they actually found. In her case, they had found the murder weapon. Looking over the image of the hunting knife he had used, she recounted the description of the murder weapon from the current cases. A single, smooth-edged blade, slightly hooked, approximately 10 inches long. The description fit perfectly. Closing the file, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Sighing, she realized that she needed to share this file with Matt. She had already mentioned that the killer was most likely the same man who had attacked her family nine years ago. Despite his expertise as a detective, the fact that he hadn’t brought up the case details with her either meant that he hadn’t found them, or, that he was trying to protect her from reliving the incident. The latter made her flush with possibility. Either way, he needed the information she had. Deciding to give him the file tomorrow, she carried it to her brief case and slid it into the inside pocket. Yawning, she decided to try and get some sleep.
Going through the motions, she prepared for bed. Even as she slid between her cool, soft sheets, joined by Bucky, her thighs ached with desire. She tried to release the tension, but she couldn’t imagine her self all the way through the exchange. Her imagination could take her right up to the moment he moved to enter her, but it was there she felt lost. The events of her past made the exchange too dangerous, too wicked, and fear gripped her. What if, when the time came, if the time came, and she wanted that time to come, she couldn’t go through with it? What if the pain and fear and humiliation of the events, so long ago, prevented her from engaging in a relationship with him? Something she now could admit, freely, she wanted more than anything. She marveled how nine years of hating and distrusting all men had come crumbling down in just one week because of just one man. Shivering against her insecurity, she rolled over on her side, pulling the sheets in tight between her legs. Reaching out to pet the tiny dog sleeping beside her, she fell asleep remembering his smell and his warmth, settling for the one thing that she didn’t need to imagine.
Bucky’s amorous licking had woken her earlier than she had planned. The little bugger dug at her comforter when she had tried to dive under it to escape him. When he wouldn’t give up, she caved and got out of bed. After feeding the little pest, which was apparently exactly what he wanted, she sat drinking her coffee and staring out of her window at the rising glow of dawn. She was getting ready to jump in the shower when her cell phone rang. Answering it, she nearly squealed when Matthew’s voice sounded on the other end. But her girlish glee was washed away when his cold professional tone told her that the coroner’s report was ready. He asked her to meet him for breakfast so they could review it together. She agreed, shooting a glance at the briefcase on her desk. She had something to share, too.
After hanging up, she had showered and dressed quickly. Giving Bucky some fresh water, she made her way to the cafe where they had met the morning before. There he was, sitting stiffly at the exact same table they had shared yesterday. In front of him was his cup and partially eaten breakfast, and another cup of steaming coffee. A flutter lit through her, realizing he had ordered for her. When she pulled the chair out from the table he jumped, having been too enthralled in the coroner’s report to hear her approach. When he didn’t return her smile she pursed her lips and plopped down, preparing herself for the results that had him looking so sour.
“So, you were right. The answering machine was the real clue. The Lyski’s had ligature marks around their wrists and ankles at least seven days old. They were held captive, Elizabeth. Someone else made the coffee and fed the dog, even laid out their clothes. This guy’s a real piece of work. The second I read the findings, I called C.S.I. to go over the apartment again, but I doubt they’ll find anything.” The frustration in his voice dug at her and she had to fight the urge to lay her hand on his arm.
“Seven days from yesterday was Tuesday, that would mean they were taken right after last week’s Judo lesson, just days after he killed the doorman and the desk clerk in our building.” The words were bitter in her mouth. “If I had gone by to see them, or called them, maybe I would have noticed they were missing. We could have been looking for kidnap victims, instead of finding murder victims.” She was so disappointed in herself, that she felt sick to her stomach.
“I told you before, it’s not your fault. We interviewed them that night and they were fine. If we had known, followed up we might have found them missing too.” He smiled at her sweetly and her spirits lifted. He closed the file and set it aside to return to his half eaten breakfast. “I got you the same coffee you ordered yesterday, but I didn’t know what to order you for breakfast.” After shoveling a forkful of his omelet into his mouth, he turned and waved to the flirty waitress. When she swayed her way over to him and asked, in her richest bedroom voice, what she could do for him, he coolly told her that his friend needed to order and went back to his food. The distance and chill in his tone apparently told her that he had no interest, because her entire demeanor changed. After taking Elizabeth’s order, she all but stomped away.
“You hurt her feelings. She was hoping to see you socially, I think.” Elizabeth giggled slightly as she took a sip of her coffee.
“She’s not my type.” Though his voice was calm when he said the words, the quick look he flicked her, and the fire in his eyes when he did so, made her blush. She wanted to flirt back, but feeling the brief case next to her leg shift a bit, she remembered the file inside and her decision to share it with him. Sighing, she lifted the bag to her lap and fished out the old file folder. He watched her actions with heightened interest and upon seeing the folder, he stiffened. Swallowing another bite, he sat up straighter. “Is that your parents’ case file?” He almost looked shocked. She nodded and set it on the table beside him. Whipping his fingers quickly, he picked it up and flipped through its pages and pictures. Elizabeth sat silently watching his face as he read the reports and studied the crime scene photos. She could even see the grimace he tried to hide as he looked down at the images of the victims, knowing full well they were her parents.
“I wasn’t sure if you had found it yet, so I decided to bring you my copy.” The words were hard to say. It had taken a lot to give him that file, and all the horrible memories it contained. “It might not be much help though. The lead detective redacted the hell out of it before he mailed it to me. He didn’t think a high school senior should have it in the first place.”
“Thank you for this. It can’t be easy for you. I tried to find it on my own, but I didn’t even know which state to start in. I was planning to ask you about it yesterday, but we got...distracted.” A comforting smile spread across his face, but before she could respond, the rejected waitress appeared again and plopped her poppy seed bagel down in front of her. Nodding, she left him to read as she ate.
As he read through the case file he knew the killer was one and the same man. Everything about the scene was precisely the same, the file was incomplete, though. Thick black lines obscured the names of the victims and entire sections of the officer’s notes. Part of him wanted to know what in this case had been so heinous that it warranted being so heavily redacted, but he knew it was probably to do with the fact that she, a child and the daughter of the victims, had discovered the bodies. Looking at a photo of the victims laying on the floor, positioned intentionally in front of the all too familiar phrase carved into the wall and dripping blood, his heart went out to her. He tried to imagine how he would have felt if at fourteen and he had come home to find this horror. New understanding for her bloomed within him as he watched her eating over the edge of the file. As he wistfully took in the way her lips slid over the pastry as she removed it from her deliciously shaped mouth, she caught him watching her. Her blush sent heat through his thighs and he turned back to the file. Flipping through the next few photos, he came upon the murder weapon. It had been recovered in her parent’s case. despite the fact that no finger prints had been found on it, he felt that the knife from that crime scene might be a key to this one.
Laying the folder flat on the table before him, he looked up at her again. She swallowed and nodded. Once her throat was empty of food, she said, “I know, it looks like the knife the M.E. identified as our murder weapon. I think maybe he is using a knife just like it. Maybe if we can find a manufacturer or a dealer for that particular type of blade we can trace its purchase. Worth a shot, right?” She hadn’t even tried to hide her drawl that time. When he smiled broadly at her, she grinned sheepishly. “What?”
“Just enjoying that accent of yours. You should let it out all the time. That, and I was just about the say the same thing. You are going to go far, Detective Cord.” As he said her name, he leaned in a little, intent on asking her to dinner, but, just like yesterday, the moment was shattered by the ringing of his phone. This time he nearly growled when he answered it. He had just decided to bring up the elevator when it seemed fate had interfered. Would he ever be allowed to have a personal conversation with this woman?
The second he recognized Arrons’ voice on the other end, his tone calmed. He listened to the C.S.I. department leader tell him about the desk clerks’ coat. All the while trying to mask the excitement in his voice. They had a lead, a real lead. Hanging up, he shifted to face her. He had to be serious now, they had important work to do. “That was Jack Arrons. The coat you found had trace all over it. He read off this laundry list of chemicals I didn’t recognize then told me where they came from. Some of the chemicals are found all over, but the bulk of them can only be found in the water treatment facilities scattered throughout the city, more specifically, in the retaining cisterns. There are five facilities in the city that use these particular chemicals.” Seeing her face pinch at the thought of having to trudge through five different water treatment plants, joined by the wonderful smells they had to offer, he continued, “Luckily for you, I think I know where we will start. One of those facilities is less than a mile from your building, just inside Central Park. Considering the grouping we have seen so far I would bet good money that’s where we need to go.”
She smiled at him as she said, “Great, so I only get to trudge through local raw sewage. Can I at least go home and change my shoes first?” He chuckled warmly at her teasing remark. She could be funny, another nail in his coffin sank in deep.
“C.S.I. is meeting us there with clean suits AND rubber waders.” After a moment of silence, he went on. “As soon as you finish your food we can head that way. They are already on the move.”
Dabbing her face with her napkin, she said, “Then lets go. It’s not every day a girl gets asked to wade through other peoples’ waste.” Her sense of humor flared again and he found himself sinking farther and farther into desire.
He had felt silly enough in the bulky white, front-zippered clean suit, and then they had added the ridiculous waist-high, floppy, rubber waders. As he tromped out of the bathroom, he came face to face with Elizabeth. They shared a quick look at each other, and then broke out in irrational laughter. They looked absurd, like hazardous waste collectors headed out on a fishing trip. His guts hurt before he was able to stem his laughter. As they started to calm down, one of the C.S.I.s came in to hurry them along, passing out safety goggles to both of them. While it didn’t smell quite as bad as he had imagined it would, it wasn’t at all what he would call pleasant and they wanted to go home sooner rather than later, just like he did. Following the awkward tromping steps of Elizabeth outside and down the path to the cistern, he couldn’t help but enjoy the way her usually balanced and graceful body was having difficulty in the bulky protective wear, not that he was fairing much better.
Reaching the hatch, He hooked into the crane first and lowered himself down and into the very old and gloriously empty holding tank. It was nearly four stories deep and shaped like a silo, measuring only twenty feet in diameter. Once his feet hit the floor, he unhooked his harness and shouted up to Elizabeth. He watched as they lowered her down, their collection kit in her hands, and he helped her get her feet on the ground before unhooking. Turning on their flash lights, the pair split up, trying to cut the time they would need to spend in this foul smelling, dank, airless hole by half. They collected samples and anything that could possibly be evidence.
They knew they were in the right place when Elizabeth found a pair of pants. The same dark fabric as the coat, coupled with the unique color strip that ran down the leg, confirmed that this was indeed the cistern they were meant to find. Aside form the desk clerk’s wallet, intact and full of cash and credit cards, they also found voids where two folding chairs had sat. Around them on the clotted and grimy floor were dark, old blood stains. “They were brought here, carved and dressed here. Ugh, this guy is just...evil.” Her forehead creased in a deep scowl as she collected samples of the blood and took pictures of the voids.
Matthew had only managed to find one other piece of possibly usable evidence, a laminated paper in the crud on the floor. It was a real estate pamphlet, outlining several properties in and around New York City. He bagged it and continued his scan. As they finished their sweep, they drew back toward the center, sweeping over the crud covered floor with their lights, one last time. Coming back to the middle, they packed all that they had collected into the kit and hooked it to the lead, barking at the C.S.I.s to haul it up. As it disappeared through the opening, he started preparing to follow, getting Elizabeth’s harness settled. Suddenly a shout from the surface drew Matthew’s attention. The sound of something falling made him jump. Surging toward her, he scooped her against him and ran for the wall, just seconds before a large metal bar clattered to the floor where she had been standing.