Fragmented (5 page)

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. She looked down. Greg again. She grimaced. Her brother, Zach, had slept over. He didn’t do it often. A student at Eastern
University, Zach came by when he needed money or his laundry done. Besides her father, he was the only family she had. She sighed. Greg wouldn’t stop until he reached her. She turned her phone off. She didn’t feel like dealing with him.

“
Who’s bothering you now?” a groggy voice asked.

Cameron looked up to see Meghan, standing in a flowing pale blue nightgown with a wisp of a robe thrown about her. Her thick blonde hair was upswept with a clip, leaving several tresses falling about her face; her blue eyes
were bloodshot, but lit up when she caught sight of the cup in Cameron’s hand. “I hope you brought me some of that.”

“
Wouldn’t have shown up otherwise. You look like shit, Meg.”

“
Don’t start with me. I’m the one who’s upset with you,” Meghan said while she accepted the coffee. “Where did you go, Cameron? Here I was, nice enough to set you up with Joel’s friend. You know you have a problem? Beats all I’ve ever seen.” Her hands went to her forehead. “Oh, my head. Mila, can you get me something for the pounding?”

Meghan nodded toward Cameron to follow her into the breakfast room.
She sat down and winced. A moment later, she popped a couple of pills in her mouth and swallowed them with her coffee.

Rubbing her forehead, Meghan asked,
“What time is it? I haven’t packed a thing.”

Cameron pulled out her present from the bag she had brought in with her.
“This might help a tad.”

“
Let me guess. It wouldn’t happen to be that little red bikini I told you Joel wanted me to buy?”

“
Enjoy it.” Cameron smirked. “It’s your honeymoon. Let Joel think you tried to please him. Besides, why worry about packing? Just bring your bags empty. I’m sure you could buy whatever you need at the resort.”

Meghan pushed her hair back.
“Should have known you would be looking after me. You always do. You’re probably right.” She leaned over and kissed Cameron’s cheek. “But don’t think it gets you out of last night. You left me in such a lurch. I don’t know why I even try to fix you up anymore. Ducking out on Nathan like you did. He really liked you. Do you have any idea who he is?”

“
To be honest with you, Meghan, I think I met someone interesting last night.”

Meghan waved her hand at her friend as she sipped her coffee.
“Uh-oh, Cam, I hope you’re not talking about that man who works in the district attorney’s office. Joel thought he saw you with him when we were leaving.”

Cameron’s face dropped.
“Why? Is something wrong with Darren Kennedy?”

“
Cam, girl, he works in the district attorney’s office. They make nothing. Granted, he’s good-looking, but I hear he’s pining away for his wife.”

“
Wife?”

“
Yeah, if I have my story right, which I usually do when it comes to men, he’s the one who lost his wife to cancer years back. Heard he’s hard as nails. Definitely not my type and you know most men are. But then again, he might be perfect for you. Another needy project.”

Cameron fell silent, staring out the window. She paused before she looked back at her friend.
“Matthew ran me down this morning. He felt the urge to make things right after three years. Said it wasn’t his fault. He had the weirdest excuse for all the pain he caused me. Said he received pictures of me in an orgy or something. Says he wants me to forgive him, take him back...”

Cameron didn’t have a chance to finish. Meghan choked on her coffee, spewing
it out over the table, Cameron, and everything in her path. She couldn’t control her laughter as she regained her composure. Taking a napkin, she wiped down the table. She handed one to Cameron.

“
You’re not serious, are you?”

“
That’s what he said. Now he wants me back, says he’ll leave his wife. Some unknown pictures that unwittingly forced him to break up with me turned out to be fake.”

“
You’re not buying it. Cam, he wants what he can’t have. Who the hell would believe a story like that? He’s such a mommy’s boy.”

“
Of course, I don’t believe a word he said.” Cameron shrugged. “Not after all he put me through. He even had the nerve to have Nevy spy on me.”

“
Who’s Nevy?”

“
A security guard at the hospital. Said he saw Darren drop me off this morning.”

A wide, knowing grin formed on her friend’s face.
“Oh, my God! You didn’t, did you? You did! Good for you. About time you had some fun, Cameron. You had me nervous for a moment. About time you moved past Matthew. You know that…that Matthew is bad news for you, girl.”

“
You never liked him because he didn’t like you.”

“
And who was right? I was. He’s a bastard who’ll just break your heart again and you don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

Cameron restrained herself from retorting. It never occurred to Meghan that
 
she
 had broken up a marriage. Meghan wouldn’t stop when she wanted something, but Meghan was right. Matthew had done too much damage to be repaired.

“
Remember every bad thing he did, Cam,” Meghan went on. “There is no excuse. Picking out an apartment and leaving you with the lease. For God’s sake, he moved out in the middle of the night. Remember you coming back in after your shift to an empty apartment with no explanation, nothing? If Karl and Greg hadn’t come into the picture, you would have been in a mess with that expensive lease.”

Cameron nodded.
“I haven’t forgotten. I couldn’t.”

“
You’re finally getting your life back in order. About to buy that gorgeous condo on Beacon Street. Starting anew. Look forward. Your life has turned the corner. Everything looks bright. Don’t add a roadblock.”

Cameron gave Meghan a smile. Meghan was right. She did feel she had jumped a huge hurdle. Meghan stretched her stiff neck and looked over her shoulder as the grandfather clock began tolling nine o’clock in the foyer.

“Joel will be home in a minute. He had some work to clear up before we leave. I asked you to come over this morning for more than just to see you before I left. I need a favor.”

“
A favor? Oh, Meg, what did you do?”

“
I just need you to pick up my car while I’m gone. You know I was in that accident,” Meghan said and pulled keys out of her robe’s pocket. “I’ve got my extra set of keys here. You know I wouldn’t trust anyone but you. The car should be ready within the week, two at the most. I told them you would pick it up. Gave them your number.”

Cameron sighed. She liked Meghan’s husband. Totally infatuated with Meghan, he gave Meghan anything she wanted
, even this belated honeymoon to the Caribbean.

“
You still haven’t told Joel? Why not? He loves you. To him, you can do no wrong.”

“
Oh, no, I can’t tell him,” Meghan cried. A look of sheer terror swept over her face. “He can’t know I smashed up the Porsche he gave me less than a week after he gave it to me. First, I would have to explain why I didn’t tell him. Then there’s Luke sitting in the wings, waiting to pounce.”

“
Okay, okay,” Cameron reassured her friend. She eyed her friend carefully. So Meghan thought Luke, Joel’s oldest son from his first marriage, could get involved with her latest misadventure. There was more to this story. Cameron probably didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. As Meghan was well aware, Cameron would help. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I won’t have any trouble returning it to your garage?”

“
No, no, I’ve told Ian you have full access. I told Joel that I’ve asked you to check in on things while we’re gone. I have everything covered.”

“
I hope so. Make sure you give me the numbers I need for the Porsche auto body place. What about paying?”

“
I have that covered so Joel won’t get suspicious. I told him that you needed help with a down payment of the condo you’re looking at. He gave me the money. I’ll transfer it over to you when I get the final bill.”

“
You told him what!?” Cameron exclaimed. Her eyes widened. She shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Meghan. This is getting a bit much.”

“
Please, please, Cameron. He can’t find out. You don’t know,” Meghan pleaded in almost a whisper. Water welled up in her eyes.

Cameron stared at her friend. She didn’t know what happened, but she could guess. Meghan didn’t have to tell her that she had snuck out to a party, probably had someone else in the car when she hit the railing on the overpass. She did know what kind of shape Meghan was in when she showed up at her apartment that night.

“It’s going to catch up with you, Meg. Be careful.”

“
Yes, yes, yes. I know. Thank you. Thank you. I’ve learned my lesson. Never again.” Meghan leaped out of her seat and hugged her friend tightly. “Everything is going to work out great. I have everything covered.”

Cameron wished she was as certain.

Brophy waited, a difficult task because he wasn’t a patient person. The call came...finally. He had a name.

After interviewing Rey Caputo’s mother and family members, Brophy had returned to headquarters at One Schroeder Plaza. The Boston Police
Department was divided into districts, but the homicide division was under one roof for the whole city.

During
the last few years, the homicide division had been under fire for their perceived low clearance rate. A game of tug-of-war had ensued between the district attorney’s office and the police department.

In defense of his department, Brophy felt being overworked and understaffed had led to their clearance rating. It wasn’t until the staff increased by twenty-five percent that their rating climbed…the staff increase, and working with an aggressive district attorney’s office
, which included the bulldog ADA Darren Kennedy.

Kennedy had become a mediator of sorts. He had tunnel vision. He didn’t care about politics. He cared about winning and putting the bad guys behind bars.
He was popular with most of the guys, despite the fact he never played favorites…even with his brother-in-law. Kennedy didn’t like mistakes. He wanted everything tied up nicely, without the worry of any evidence being thrown out, or any evidence overlooked.

Brophy understood Kennedy’s dedication to putting bad guys behind bars…so he didn’t have to have time to think or feel. The more he worked, the more he drowned out his sorrows. Kennedy had been married to his sister, Sara, until that damn cancer took her away.

While Waters went down to the morgue, Brophy studied the specifics of the other cases suspected of having a connection. Over the last week, two other brutal stabbings had taken the lives of two young college students. Males between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. The common element—a 1969 vintage baseball card—had been left at the scene. Both cards were from the Orioles: one, Boog Powell; the other, Frank Robinson. That, along with a black Milano stiletto knife left in the heart of each victim, suggested they had a serial killer who wanted them to know it was his work.

Neither of the other cases had occurred within his jurisdiction
: one in Dedham and the other in Cambridge. The first murder had caused concern among the public; the second, alarm. Brophy was under no illusions. The third would cause panic.

The medical examiner’s preliminary report came back much as expected. The victim, Rey Caputo, died due to a single thrust into his heart by a single knife blade—the black Milano stiletto found in the chest of the victim consistent with the ones found in the previous victims.

Brophy clicked off the call. He needed to see Captain Centrello. He walked toward his commander’s office. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the captain in on a Saturday.

Captain Centrello was on the phone. When he saw Brophy in the doorway, he waved him to come in.

Brophy regarded Captain Centrello while the man talked. The captain wasn’t happy. Centrello was old-school, blunt and to the point. Ten years Brophy’s senior, clean-cut, shoes shining, hair immaculately cut, not a hair out of place—neither was a paper out of place on his desk—married to the same woman for twenty-six years. Brophy realized that the Centrello tolerated him for one reason and one reason only: Centrello like closed cases and he closed cases.

Centrello hung up the phone and turned his attention to Brophy.
“Sit. I’m not going to have you rush out. Make the time. I didn’t come in on a Saturday to get a quick brush-off. Just talking to the commissioner. Do I need to tell you what he said? Do you have anything?”

Brophy stifled a groan. The last thing he wanted was to give a full briefing.
Seemed he didn’t have much of a choice. He scraped a hand over his stubble-covered chin and nodded. “The lab confirmed the knives are the same—black stiletto single blade. The coroner concluded that like the other two victims,
the Caputo kid was killed by a single thrust straight into the heart. Then there’s the damn baseball card.”

“
So it’s the same guy. We’ve got a goddamn serial killer.”

Brophy grimaced and shrugged.
“It seems that way, Captain, but something is gnawing at me. Something is wrong with this one.”

“
Out with it, Broph.” Centrello tilted his head upward to look Brophy in his eyes. “If the evidence points that the murders are the same MO…”

On the utterance, Brophy shook his index finger at the
captain, like a switch to the way his mind worked had been turned on, releasing the onslaught of his thoughts. “But that’s just it. It does and it doesn’t. There is little doubt that the murders are linked, not with the knife and bloodied card connecting them. I’m just not so sure it was by the same person. The first two, the murders seemed random. It was like the victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“
With the first victim, the guy was leaving the Venus club with his girlfriend. She forgot she had given her phone to her girlfriend, who was still in the club. When she came out, she found him lying by his car, dead, with the knife through his heart.

“
Now with the second one, the victim was hanging out with his friends. They had gone to the midnight premiere of the latest action movie. Waiting for the T, he had to go relieve himself. He went off to the dark side area. When the Greenline arrived, his friends went to look for him because he didn’t return. They found him lying dead…the same, knife through the heart with the card beside the body, covered in blood.”

“
I know the details of the murders. Get to your point.”

“
That’s just it. They were random. Opportunistic murders. Like the killer had gone out to murder someone and waited for the right moment.” Brophy paused. He pressed his lips together. His eyes squinted. “That’s not how this one went down. This was a rendezvous.”

“
A rendezvous?”

“
Talked to Caputo’s family. Seemed to be a good kid. No trouble with the law. Worked hard. Went to Framingham State. Didn’t learn much from his mother. Too shook up. He was her only kid. Don’t think she knows anything anyway, but the kid’s cousin, Marie, reluctantly told us something of interest. Caputo was gay. Hadn’t come out to his mother. She thought that Caputo might have been meeting up with a friend.”

“
Have you confirmed it?”

“
Took the computer. Looked over his cell phone.”

“
If you are telling me that you believe we have a serial killer going after gays…the press is going to have a field day.”

“
That’s just it. I don’t think the first two had anything to do with the guys being gay. Don’t think they were. This murder is different. Don’t you think it’s strange that in the first two murders, there was absolutely no evidence, only the knife and the method of death? No fingerprints, no witnesses, no DNA. Nothing.”

Centrello went silent for a moment. Thinking hard, he exhaled heavily
. “You think it’s a copycat of some sort.”

“
Don’t see how. No one had the information about the exact knife or method. It was only released they were stabbing victims. No, this guy knew how he wanted to kill. Just doesn’t seem like the same guy. My instincts are telling me we have a dangerous killer or killers on the loose. Maybe it’s some sadistic game.

“
The killer set up this meeting. Told Caputo where to meet and the time. Then he kills him and exits the car, dripping in blood. It has to be all over his car…SUV. We have identified a suspicious vehicle that was in the parking lot at the time of the killing.”

Centrello’s eyes lit up. He sat back in his chair.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that at the beginning?”

“
That’s not all,” Brophy went on. “We have the name of the registered owner, a Daniel Quinn. The computer techs are working on a trace on the IP address on Caputo’s computer, to a computer at Eastern University. The first hit seems to have come from Daniel Quinn’s kid, Zach, a sophomore at the college. Don’t think it’s too far-fetched to believe that Quinn loaned his car to his son. I’m meeting up with Waters. We are going to bring him in for questioning.”

Centrello nodded, seemingly pleased with the information. Brophy made a move to walk out the door. Centrello stopped him,
“One thing, Brophy. This is top priority. Play it by the book. Don’t want anything to come back at us on this one.

“
I expect the FBI to step in at any moment. There’s talk of a possible connection to murders out of state, but I want this one, Brophy.”

“
Yes, sir,” Brophy replied, comprehending clearly what his captain wanted.

“
Oh, one more thing. Heard that Kennedy is thinking of leaving the DA’s office. It would be a shame.”

Brophy shrugged.
“Didn’t know that, but I haven’t talked with him lately. Been busy myself.”

“
That’s what I understand. Sometimes burying yourself in your work is the best remedy. I expect your full focus.”

“
Of course, Captain.”

Captain Centrello gave a knowing nod. Brophy knew instantly Centrello was aware of his divorce. A good commander would make it a point to know about the private problems of those under his command. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone other than Waters
—hadn’t wanted to flaunt his failed marriage, but wives talk. Someone always does. No matter how hard he tried to keep it from the guys, he would have to admit it was common knowledge.

Couldn’t worry about it now. Centrello was right. It was best to stay busy. He had a case to solve.

* * * *

Walking up the
steps to her apartment, a chill wind encircled Cameron. She pulled her coat tighter around her. Any hope of catching a nap was quenched quickly. Combative voices resounded out in the courtyard…voices she readily recognized. She winced. She didn’t need this.

Ignoring the bitter cold, she unlocked the common door and entered the first-floor side door that led to her apartment door. Voices echoed clearly in the hallway, blaring loudly. Her morning had just taken a turn for the worse.

She lived in a brownstone situated not far from the hospital. She remembered picking out the apartment with Matthew. It had been in the spring and the dogwood trees bloomed a magnificent pink, but now it was the middle of January. The bare trees stood as a reminder of how long it would be before the warmth of the sun would call for the beauty of a New England spring day.

Pausing at the entrance to her home, t
he voices only intensified.
Good Lord, did they not realize they could be heard!

“
Motherfucker, get out of my home.”

“
Fuck you, you’re not my boss.”

Cameron halfhearted
ly unlocked the front door, entering into the scene. Greg stood in the middle of the living room in his plaid pajama pants and white T-shirt. His stomach hung over the pants slightly; his short stature added to the impression that he was a bit on the chunky side. His face flamed red; his temper was unchecked, which caught Cameron off guard.

She had never seen Greg in such a state
: breathing heavily, readying for a confrontation, his thick black wire-rimmed glasses twisted, his dark hair disheveled.

Quickly, her eyes ascertained Greg’s source of irritation. Laying on the couch under an
afghan, her brother, Zach, rubbed his eyes, awakening to the maddening yells of his sister’s roommate.

Even hung over, Zach would have no trouble with any kind of physical confrontation with Greg. Zach, a sophomore cornerback at Eastern University, stood a little over six feet,
and was physically fit, having his season finishing at the end of November. He swung his bare legs off the couch.

“
You really want to go at it?” he threatened Greg.

“
Guys, what in the world do you two think you’re doing?” Cameron interjected as she swiftly closed the door firmly behind her. “Do you want the neighbors to call the police?”

Greg shrugged.
“Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he asserted, glowering at Zach.

“
I don’t want the police at my door, thank you. I won’t have this,” she insisted, walking between the two. “I don’t have any idea what’s up between the two of you. I don’t care. Just be quiet. I’ve had a long night and don’t need this.”

“
You should talk with your brother.” Greg renewed his growl of disapproval.

Cameron sighed. She placed her hand on Greg’s shoulder
, walking him away from her brother toward his own bedroom door. His eyes were bloodshot; he looked like he had been up all night.

Her manner eased.
“What did Zach do?”

Greg swallowed hard
, trying to regain what was left of his composure. “I didn’t get any sleep all night. I don’t know what he and his friend did.”

“
Hold it—friend?”

“
Yeah. What’s his name? The one he’s always hanging with.”