Never Alone (5 page)

seven

Lieutenant Pearl Walker flipped
a pen back and forth with one hand while the other held her forehead, probably trying to comfort a headache before it transformed into a migraine. Megan spied her boss through the open doorway and knew neither of them was looking forward to this meeting. News of an Upper East Side woman being murdered provoked major concern from Megan's bosses and, in turn, her bosses. A homeless man being beaten to death or a drug deal gone wrong was merely a sad reflection of the society we lived in today; a young upper-middle-class woman pursuing a degree in social work viciously murdered in her own home, however, held all the ingredients of a public-relations nightmare. Walker needed this case to be solved quickly, and she knew one of the few detectives who could deliver was Megan McGinn. Given the recent death of her father, the lieutenant was undoubtedly worried Megan might not be emotionally equipped to handle the high-pressure case. But, being a frequent visitor to the track, Walker knew where and when to place her bets. This meant she was putting her money down on Megan to win, place,
and
show.

The lieutenant had a Newton's pendulum set on her desk. Five metallic silver balls hung from a frame in alignment. Pull back on one of the balls, drop it down to collide with the others, and it produced a calming
click-clack-click-clack
. Or so it was supposed to; this seemed like false hope from an office-supply catalog when Megan knocked on the open office door.

“Come in.”

Let the clicking commence.

Lieutenant Walker's office wasn't a large, ornate room, but it possessed a strict level of style and power, a reflection of the woman who occupied it. A credenza faced her desk displaying her many achievements, both professionally and personally. A photograph of her with the current mayor and governor at a charity event sat next to a plaque honoring her work with Big Sisters of America. A certificate of mentorship from the New York Urban League was proudly displayed on the top shelf. Her desk held her family photo: her and her dentist husband with their two daughters.

“Lieutenant, you wanted to see us?” Megan asked.

“Take a seat.”

Megan sat in the only chair while Nappa leaned against the
wall.

“First off, I'm sorry about your dad.”

Megan solemnly replied, “I saw you at the funeral. Thank you for coming.”

“Second, I'm sorry to hear about your mom. Nappa told me you just put her in a nursing home. I hate those places.”

“Well, at least this is a nice one,” Megan said.

“Third, are you up for this case right now?”

Images of herself as a young girl waiting for her father to come home from work, giving her a warm hug and telling stories of his
day, filled Megan's mind. The sound of his voice calling every
morning and how that was now silenced filled her heart.

My father is dead. My father is dead. It's real.

It was as if he were standing next to her in the room at that moment and whispered in her ear,
Go get 'em, Meganator.

Megan raised her head and looked straight into her boss's eyes, “Yes. I need to be here. I need to work on this, Lieutenant.”

Walker paused a moment to study Megan's determination. “Okay, so what do we have?” She sat back, taking in a deep breath to brace before beginning what she seemed sure would be a taxing conversation.

“Strangled. No signs of rape. No prints. Forensics is still working the scene, but it looks like the whole place was cleaned from top to bottom,” Megan answered.

“Witnesses? Anyone in the building see or hear anything?” Walker looked over at Nappa.

“None so far. We still have some officers canvassing the building. We spoke with the super. He went into her apartment to fix the kitchen sink, and that's when he found her,” Nappa replied.

“So what are we talking? Botched robbery? A jilted boyfriend?”

Megan jumped in then. “Definitely not a robbery. Her purse held her wallet with cash and credit cards in place. Jewelry was still there; a pearl necklace was sitting on top of the dresser. We asked her parents and they said she didn't have a boyfriend.”

“That they knew of anyway.” Walker, being the mother of two
daughters, had experienced on more than one occasion how
daughters can self-edit what they share with their parents.

“The mother was pretty adamant about that,” Nappa said.

“Mmm.” The lieutenant wasn't convinced. “Non-doorman
building; any security video?”

“Yes, but the super said he's been having problems with the system. We're going to take a look at it anyway,” Megan said.

“Well, I'm sure whatever problems he's had with it will be fixed after today. Unfortunately, it's a little too late for Miss McAllister.” Walker's dry wit failed to mask her parental reaction to what she encountered at her job. “Max Sutherland is the ME on the case, right?”

Both detectives nodded.

“I'll give him a quick call. I'm sure he knows this is priority, but it doesn't hurt to give a reminder. Next steps?” Walker asked.

“Before we go to next steps, there are a few others details we need to discuss.” Megan took a deep breath.

“Like what?”

“The victim had a gold wedding band inserted into her vaginal canal and her vagina was sewn shut.” Megan hated the way she heard the news exit her mouth. She sounded sterile, unaffected, when the exact opposite was true.

Disturbing news such as this had a way of stifling all the members in a room, no matter how many times one heard it. Walker was no exception. The woman sat back in her chair. “You're serious.”

It had been an emotional day. Megan's fuse was short with herself, even shorter with others. “No, Lieutenant, we make this stuff
up because our jobs are
so
boring we want to see how much
whacked-out crap people will believe.”

“McGinn!” Nappa stepped over. It wasn't often that he got in the mix, but if he saw his partner was about to throw herself or her career off the cliff, he jumped in. “Cool it.” He grabbed her shoulder, not in a strong-arm fashion, but in a go-sit-the-fuck-down-now-I-have-to-pull-damage-control way.

“Listen, Lieutenant, there's more.”
Nappa
paused to gain footing in his explanation. “When the victim was found, she was positioned very specifically.” He was waiting for Walker to move her slow-burn stare from Megan to his face. It wasn't close to happening. “She was placed very neatly. As if she were asleep.”

Walker continued to stare Megan down a few more seconds before deciding to take the high road. “What makes you say that?”

“Look at her, you'd never think a murder had taken place,”
Nappa
answered.

Megan added, with a lot less attitude, “Her hair was brushed to the side; there was a
serenity
to her position. Well, that's the best way I can describe it.”

“How much do the parents know?”

“We had to show them the ring. We kept the suturing to ourselves,” answered Megan.

“Good call. The press will have a field day if this leaks out.”

“Her parents are providing us with a list of friends, past employers, and so on. We didn't find a cell phone, but we have her datebook, so we'll start there as well as speak to the people where she interned. She was a counselor, so there could be a whacked-out patient, something along those lines. And we'll also check out who she interacted with at the university. She was getting her master's at Columbia,” Nappa said.

“Good. I've assigned Palumbo and Rasmussen to help you
with the legwork. Give them anything you think may slow the two of you down. There's another matter, McGinn. From now on, I want Nappa to handle the press.”

“What?” Megan looked at her boss as if she'd just said
smoking was good for you
. “Exactly what was wrong with how I handled the press this morning?”

“What was
wrong
? You came close to having a catfight on live television. For Chrissakes, Vegas had a five-to-one spread you'd bitch slap her if she had asked another question.”

“I'm a professional. I would never do anything to embarrass this office.”

“Yes, McGinn. You are a professional. You'd also lose every poker game ever played because you can't hide any of your one thousand emotions. You think you can, but you can't. I'm serious; no more impromptu interviews. Nappa handles the press. You stick to the case.”

“Excuse me?” Megan sat forward. “Stick to the case? Who in the hell do you think sat with the victim's family today? I didn't see you there when Nappa and I had to tell two parents their only
child was dead. What were you doing, having lunch with the
mayor?”

Not a drop of zen could be found in the air.

Megan knew it, too.

Lieutenant Walker rarely shouted. When she wanted to make a point, she simply spoke very slowly. “You are out of line, Detective, for the second t
ime in my office today.”

Megan stared at Walker, knowing she was walking a thin line; she also knew she didn't want to be taken off the case. After a few seconds, Megan swallowed hard. “Fine. I apologize.” She turned to leave. “I'll get Palumbo and Rasmussen up to speed.” Megan walked out, giving the door a slight but perceptible slam, ratcheting up the pissing contest by half a notch.

“That was sincere,” Walker said as she resumed reading a pile of messages. “She needs to switch to decaf or O'Doul's. Or both.”

“I'm right on it.” Nappa walked to the door, adding, “Give her a break. Look, she's fine; she can handle this. But it's been a rough day.” He raised his eyebrows, hoping to make Walker less upset with Megan's outburst.

“Shit.” She rubbed her brow. “I'm counting on both of you to handle this. You'll let me know if she begins to lose her footing.” It was less of a request and more of a demand.

Nappa didn't acknowledge the comment. “We'll give you an update when we get some leads.”

“Lunch with the mayor?
Is she kidding me?” Walker grabbed the Newton pendulum off her desk, throwing it in the bottom drawer. “Thanks for nothing.” She slammed the drawer shut as Nappa left.

_____

Megan sat with Detectives Palumbo and Rasmussen, sharing what little information they had on the case. Both men were professionals and team players. They had no problem being directed by a woman. Rasmussen was a big man with blond hair and blue eyes—a modern Viking dressed in a suit and tie. Palumbo was third-generation on the job. What he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle. He accentuated his barrel chest with dress shirts that were just a bit too tight. He had to show off his long hours at the gym somehow.

Megan glanced up when Nappa approached.
“Stick to the case?”

“Megan, you know what she meant. She's going to be under a lot of pressure from downtown to make sure this gets solved. She was posturing. That's all. And by the way, thanks for putting me in the middle of whatever
that
was in there.”

Palumbo and Rasmussen exchanged looks, acknowledging they were out of the loop in the conversation and didn't much want to be in on it, either.

“Sorry.” Megan didn't want to rehash her meltdown. “Sorry. It won't happen again.” They both knew that was a lie. “I'm giving them everything we have so far.” By the grim look in Palumbo's and Rasmussen's eyes, Megan had told them the more heinous aspects. “They're going to go back to the victim's building and speak to the neighbors, store owners, et cetera. Let's also get a copy of the building's security camera. It doesn't sound like it was in great condition, but we'll try.”

“That reminds me, check back in with the super, Mr. Mendoza. He's the one who found her. See if he's remembered something,”
Nappa
suggested.

“Got it.” Palumbo had a gravelly voice, with a hint of a Queens accent.

“You want us to order phone records? Or is that being done?” Rasmussen asked.

“Rasmussen, you work on getting her apartment line and her cell phone records. We'll see if we can track who she's been in contact with lately. Also, see if we can get the phone records from the place where she interned. I have the name of it in my notes. That may be a pain in the ass for confidentiality reasons. She was a counselor at some center, so specify we're only getting
her
records, not those of the whole place. If she was being harassed by some nut, then he would probably be calling her there. Palumbo, I want you to check any and all databases on homicides that have the same MO, specifically the vaginal suturing. This can't be the killer's first time. Check it all. City, state, country.”

“We're on it,” said Rasmussen as they returned to their desks.

Megan knew Palumbo and Rasmussen asked the right questions and knew how to get around roadblocks. Walker made the right move assigning them to the case. Megan sat at her desk reflecting on the McAllister murder scene.
Nappa
sat opposite, starting what was sure to be a very thick case file.

“What's on your mind?” he asked.

“There's something at the crime scene that didn't feel right. I mean besides her head resting on the pillow so perfectly, and her arms folded. That was definitely intentional. There's something else, something I'm missing.”