Читать книгу Cavanaugh Standoff - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“You should do that more often,” Sierra said.

Ronan turned, surprised to see her standing near him. He thought she was still in the break room and hadn’t even heard her come up.

“Do what?” he demanded.

“Smile.” Even as she said it, his expression went back to its normal impassive look. Still, determined to make him come around, she pushed on. “You don’t look quite as scary when you smile.”

He caught himself almost smiling again and wondered what it was about this woman that had him responding in ways he hadn’t for a long time. “You’re missing the point,” he told her gruffly. “Why wouldn’t I want to look scary?”

“Well, you got me there,” she answered, tongue in cheek. “If you don’t know, I can’t explain it to you.”

“Good.” Ronan turned back to look at the photographs she’d put on the bulletin board, waiting for something to nudge his brain. But nothing came. He glanced at Sierra. The latter had gone back to the desk that had been assigned to her for the duration of this case. “Anything occur to you?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she admitted honestly. “But it’s still early.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh, turning back to the bulletin board. He frowned a little as he told her, “You know, this isn’t a half-bad idea, using the bulletin board.”

She made no effort to hide her stunned expression. “Wow, two half compliments in one day. Aren’t you afraid that I’ll get a big head?”

“Bigger than it already is?” he asked.

She took no offense. She had a hunch he felt he had to say something like that to counter the left-handed compliment he’d just tendered.

“I don’t have a big head,” she told him. “I just know my capabilities.”

Ronan began to say something about the extent of her “so-called” capabilities when he saw her suddenly sit up and look alert. For just a second, the expression in her eyes captivated him. She looked almost ethereal. Definitely beautiful. And that was when he realized that when she held her head a certain way, she reminded him of Wendy.

Startled, he quickly got hold of himself. This wasn’t the time to think about Wendy. He wasn’t ready to go there now. Maybe he never would be.

The next second he turned to see Martinez and Choi walking back into the squad room. He crossed to them. “Anything?” he asked.

Martinez refrained from letting his disappointment show. “If anyone recognizes her—” Martinez nodded at the sketch put together from the bartender’s recollection “—they’re not talking. But in their defense, that is a pretty generic-looking sketch. Pretty girl, wavy hair, nothing really outstanding.”

“What about the surveillance camera?” she asked.

“The one in the back alley’s inoperable,” Ronan informed her dismissively. It was the first thing that had been checked by his uncle and the team Sean had taken with him.

“Okay,” she allowed, “how about the one inside the tavern?”

“There isn’t one. The owner’s got one up strictly for show,” Ronan told her. “But it doesn’t record.”

“And the one outside, by the entrance?” she pressed, recalling seeing it as they’d passed the front door to get to the alley.

Ronan didn’t answer her. Instead he headed out of the squad room.

Sierra was on her feet immediately, hurrying after him. Moving fast, she managed to catch up to him by the elevator. “You’re going down to the CSI lab to take a look at that surveillance video, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Don’t you have files to go through?” he asked Sierra crisply.

“You know I do, you gave them to me. But they can wait until later,” she answered. “I want to see if we can isolate the footage and find our mystery woman. Maybe she can help us solve this thing.”

He doubted it. Things didn’t just resolve themselves this way. “You realize she could just be someone playing up to anyone who’ll buy her a drink,” Ronan said just as the elevator arrived.

Sierra got in the second the elevator doors opened, not taking a chance he would leave her behind. “I know. But she could still be a witness.”

“She could still be a witness,” he admitted grudgingly, echoing what she’d said. And then his frown deepened. “Don’t grin so hard, Carlyle. Your face’ll crack.”

“There’s a few years left on my warranty, so I’m safe for now,” she said cheerfully.

“Right,” he murmured to himself. Just what he needed on his team—to be saddled with a crazy woman. A crazy woman who reminded him of his own loss. “C’mon, then,” he ordered as the doors opened in the basement.

Sierra didn’t have to be asked twice.

* * *

“THERE, THAT’S GOT to be her!” Sierra cried excitedly, pointing to the image on the monitor in the viewing bay. “Rewind it!”

They had been watching the surveillance video from the Shamrock Inn for the last half hour. The footage wasn’t exceptionally clear because the camera was at least ten years old and the video being used had been taped over and over countless times to save money. As well, the camera had lost its ability to time stamp so they had been unable to isolate the hours they’d needed, which had forced them to review the entire video recorded over the last ten hours.

Ronan had already hit Pause and then Rewind. When he played the tape forward, he did it in slow motion, allowing them to study the scene.

“She wasn’t with anyone when she came in,” Sierra observed.

Annoyed, Ronan looked at her over his shoulder. “I’ve got eyes, Carlyle. I can see.”

“Sorry.” The apology was automatic. “Just getting excited, that’s all.”

“Save your energy. It’s going to be a long haul,” he told her.

He hit Pause again, then got up from the desk he’d been using. He went to find his uncle.

Bringing him back, he indicated the surveillance tape they had been reviewing. “I’m going to need a hard copy of that woman,” he told Sean.

“You mean other than the one you already have?” Sean asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“What are you talking about?” Ronan asked, puzzled.

Rather than answer his nephew, Sean pointed to the colored print of the woman entering the tavern that Sierra was holding in her hand.

Ronan stared at the print. “Where did you—”

“I got it off the printer,” Sierra told him innocently, anticipating his question. And then she smiled, adding, “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Sean nodded his approval. “Nice to have good help,” Sean told his nephew. “Well, if you don’t need anything else...” He looked at Ronan pointedly. It was obvious he had more than his share of work to get back to.

“Not from you at this time,” Ronan acknowledged. “Thanks for letting us look through the video.”

“We all want the same thing,” Sean answered. “To get whoever’s doing this off the streets and behind bars.” He started to leave. “I’ll have the ME send the autopsy report up to you when it’s done, but I don’t expect that there’ll be any surprises.”

“Will that include a tox screen?” Sierra asked, suddenly turning around just before entering the hallway behind Ronan.

Homicide’s lead detective stopped in his tracks, reluctantly turning around.

“Of course,” Sean answered. “Tox screens can include a wide range of tests. Are you looking for something specific?”

She answered his question with a question of her own. “Does that include checking for date-rape drugs?”

That pulled both men up short.

“Not in this case. Why?” Sean asked, crossing back to her. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, it’s just an idea...” Sierra began. “But whoever lured Walker away and executed him would have wanted Walker to come along peacefully and not try to fight him off, right?”

Ronan exchanged looks with his uncle. “Makes sense to me,” Sean agreed. “I’ll get a more specified tox screen done on Walker and let you know what it comes up with,” he promised.

They left the lab and she turned to Ronan as they waited for the elevator. “Now aren’t you glad I came along?”

“The jury’s still out on that,” Ronan said wryly.

“Are you reverting back to the strong, silent type again?” she asked. “I’ve seen you smile, O’Bannon. You can’t fool me.”

The elevator arrived and they got on. Ronan pushed the button for their floor rather forcefully. “I’ve got a question for you, Carlyle. Do you ever stop talking?”

“On occasion,” she replied.

“Do you think that this could be one of those occasions?” he asked. “I think better when there’s silence.”

She laughed softly. “Considering the squad room we work in, you’re pretty much out of luck.”

Ronan looked at her pointedly. “I know.”

“But, if it helps, I’ll stop talking—for now,” she said gamely. “I’ve got some reading to catch up on anyway.”

Ronan made no comment, afraid that if he uttered a single word, it would set her off again and she’d launch into yet another long, winding topic. He really did want to savor a few moments of peace before something else came up.

* * *

SIERRA SPENT THE rest of the day, as well as the next, reading and rereading the files that had been compiled on the five victims. All of them had belonged to neighborhood gangs and all the killings had been identical: one bullet to the back of the head, then removal of one of the hands. In the first four cases, it was the right one that had been severed.

But the last victim had had his left hand removed, not his right.

“Why just one?” Sierra asked, looking up from the file.

All three men on the team were at their desks, working. Martinez and Choi were currently on phone duty, fielding calls from people who swore they had either just seen the serial killer or had just barely escaped being another one of his victims. Each call had to be taken no matter how baseless it turned out to be, but doing so was tedious, not to mention wearing on the detectives’ nerves, as well.

Hearing Sierra’s question, Ronan looked up in her direction. “What did you say?”

He knew he would regret asking because he was all but giving her an invitation to start running off at the mouth again and it had been really pretty peaceful for the last few hours. But she’d asked a question and since she’d been dead-on about the surveillance video, he couldn’t afford to ignore her just for the sake of his own peace and quiet.

“Why does the killer just cut off one of his victim’s hands?” she asked.

Ronan shrugged. “Because it’s the victim’s dominant hand most likely.”

“Okay. And?” She waited for more of an explanation. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her and she had a feeling that if they had an answer, it would get them one step closer to finding who was behind the killings.

Ronan frowned. “And what?”

Taking a breath, Sierra worded her question more succinctly. “Why would the killer want to cut off the victim’s dominant hand?”

“How the hell should I know?” Ronan asked. Frustrated, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “The guy’s a whack job.”

“A whack job who knows how to practically surgically remove a hand from its wrist,” she said pointedly.

Ronan frowned. “Anyone wielding a meat cleaver with a little momentum could do the same thing.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point,” she was forced to admit.

“Why are you focusing on the way the killer cuts off his victim’s hands?” Choi asked, finally getting off the phone. “You think the killer’s a Jack the Ripper type? Some people thought he was a doctor, the way he vivisected those prostitutes.”

“I thought maybe if our killer had some kind of medical background, we might be able to narrow the suspect pool,” she explained.

“We have a suspect pool?” Martinez asked, glancing from Sierra to Ronan and then Choi. “You mean you think that somebody other than the members of those two gangs still left standing is behind this?”

She waved away Martinez’s facetious question. “Right now, I’m just thinking out loud,” Sierra said with a shrug. “Spit-balling ideas until something winds up sticking, I guess.”

Ronan had a thoughtful expression on his face. “And what are your thoughts about why the killer cuts off just one of his victim’s hands? The dominant hand.” His tone underscored the word.

Sierra was surprised he was asking her for input rather than simply telling her not to think out loud until she had something worthwhile to share.

“Like you said, it’s the victim’s dominant hand,” Sierra said. She kept coming back to that. It had to mean something. “The hand he uses to shoot his gun with.”

Ronan’s eyes met hers. “You think these killings are payback for something.” It wasn’t a question so much as an assumption. And it made as much sense right now as any of this did.

“Maybe,” she answered, leaving herself a little leeway. “But I can’t find a connection between the two gangs, other than they pretty much stayed out of each other’s way.”

And that was what was frustrating her. There had to be something. But what?

“At least for the last couple of years,” Choi recalled.

“Until these killings started,” Martinez spoke up. “Now, according to what I hear from my friends on the Tesla police force, there’ve been a number of revenge killings.” He pulled up a recent story he’d read earlier on the internet. “See?” He turned his monitor so that it was visible to the others.

Choi scanned the story quickly. “Maybe this is all just gang-related in one way or another,” he suggested, looking at O’Bannon.

One of the newer lab techs from the CSI unit had just walked into the squad room and crossed to Ronan. He was carrying a large manila envelope.

“Captain Cavanaugh wanted me to bring this to you, Detective,” the lab tech said, referring to Sean. “He said you were waiting for it.”

“We all are.” Accepting the envelope, Ronan began opening it. “Tell him thanks. I really didn’t think he’d get it to me so quick.”

“He had the lab rush it,” the tech said before leaving.

Eager to know if she was right, Sierra was on her feet and rounding her desk to get to Ronan’s side.

“You planning on reading this over my shoulder, Carlyle?” Ronan asked, still holding the envelope. The reports were only partially showing.

She offered him a quick, quirky smile. Without saying yes or no to his question, Sierra told him, “I speed-read.”

He shook his head. The woman had an answer for everything. “Of course you do.”

Removing the papers from the envelope, he found that in addition to the autopsy report, it also contained the extended tox screen Sierra had requested.

He picked up the latter first, knowing it was what really interested Sierra. Now that she had raised the point, so was he.

Before he could scan down to the portion he was looking for, he heard Sierra exclaim behind him, “I was right. Walker was drugged. The tox screen shows that he had a date-rape drug in him when he died.”

“Well, that explains why there was no sign of a struggle in the alley,” Martinez said. Looking in Sierra’s direction, he inclined his head in silent tribute.

Sierra’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Can we get a tox screen panel worked up on the other victims?” she asked Ronan eagerly.

“Not likely,” he answered. He’d only taken over the case after the third victim had surfaced. “Three of the victims have already been buried. We’d have to get court orders to exhume their bodies.”

He saw a flash of frustration in Sierra’s eyes. For just a second he was caught up by the way her blue eyes seemed to almost change color, from light to dark, depending on the feelings that were surfacing.

Upbraiding himself for the momentary lapse, he focused on the business at hand. “It can be done, but not as easily as you might think. We’d need a really compelling reason. For now, I can find out if victim number four is still in the morgue. From what I’ve heard, I don’t think anyone has come forward to claim his body yet.”

Glancing at Sierra, he saw her face change. He’d expected her to be elated. Instead she seemed really sad. “What’s with you?” he asked. “I’d thought you’d be happy to hear that.”

“I’m glad we’ve got another body to test,” she said, “but think about how awful that is, to be dead and not have anyone come forward to claim your body.”

“Don’t waste your pity. That’s the kind of life these thugs signed on for,” Martinez told her, trying to make her feel better in his own way.

“I’m just glad we’ve got another body to run a tox screen on without having to get any court orders,” Ronan said.

He expected her to say something cryptic, like “You’re welcome,” but she didn’t.

He suppressed a sigh. Apparently, Carlyle was more complicated than he’d initially given her credit for. That was all he needed. A complicated woman on his team, stirring things up.

Stirring him up.

The thought came and went in a split second. He blocked its return. He didn’t have time for anything but solving the case, he silently insisted.