Reprisal (4 page)

But neither family knew the girls were missing right away. “Seems as if he’s prying on their innocence. Money doesn’t seem to be an issue, at least not on the
Brockwood case, but....... wait.

Do you have pictures of these girls?” I ask Chief Matthews. He nods and slides another folder to me. As I open the file
, two photos spill onto my lap. I suck in a breath at the similarities. Dark hair, dark eyes and stunning features. These girls are the epitome of beautiful. They look so alike they could be twins. “See if Rose can run a profile search on young girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty five with similar features. Both of these girls look so alike they could be sisters.” I tell Matthews as I stare at the photos.

“There is one interesting thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask as I drag my eyes up to meet his.

“They’re both adopted.” Matthews says as he drops another folder at me.

I open the folder and scan the documents. “Both closed adoptions, but the file indicates they were.......shit. Both of their mothers were rape victims?”

“According to the court documents, both mothers were kidnapped and raped by the same man. The father is named as ‘unknown’ in the documents, but it appears they were both victims of the same man. Brockman’s birth mother died during childbirth from her injuries and Fishman’s birth mother committed suicide three days after she gave birth. Rose is already running a search for any other’s that might fall into these parameters. Since the records are sealed, it’s going to take an act of God to get a judge to open them. We’ll have to get both families to consent before we can do anything, and if only one refuses to allow it then we are shit out of luck.”

I stand to leave and head home after looking at my watch, one thirty. “Shit man, my shift starts in five hours. See if I can get copies of these files and I’ll check in tomorrow. Sleep is calling my name.”

The alarm goes off way too early, blaring in my ears. As I peel my eyes open and squint from the sun shining in through the blinds, I realize I managed to not have a nightmare last night. I feel rested and refreshed. But it’s Saturday and I wonder why in the hell my alarm was set anyway. I guess in my exhaustion, I forgot to turn it off last night
before falling into bed.

I kick off the covers and sit up, slinging my legs over the side of the bed. I stumble into the bathroom and see a different face than I did yesterday morning. My eyes are brighter and the dark circles under them faded. Amazing what a good night’s sleep will do. I wash my face and brush my teeth. Not sure why I brush my teeth, since I haven’t even had coffee yet, but I do it out of habit I guess.

After throwing on some yoga pants and a tee shirt, I make my way to the kitchen for that coffee. As it brews, I scroll through messages on my phone that I apparently missed last night.

Nothing interesting there, but I have one voice mail from a number I don’t recognize. My finger hovers over the ‘play’ button, but I decide to wait. It’s my day
off and I won’t let work interrupt my morning cup of liquid caffeine. I head out to my patio and sink down onto the chaise lounge and sip my coffee quietly while listening to the sounds of the city that never sleeps. Horns honking, cars zipping by and people milling about. I’m on the top floor out of fourteen floors of my building, so I am far enough up to have a decent view, but not far enough to drown out the city sounds.

After a few minutes of quiet time and a feeble attempt at waking up, my phone rings. As I look at the caller ID I see it’s the same number that left me a message last night. I debate letting it to go voicemail, but since they’re calling again it must be important. As I slide the answer button, I suddenly feel like I’m making a mistake answering the phone.

“Doctor DeCarlo.” I answer, my voice still sounding sleepy.

“Sydney, this is Chuck Matthews with the NYPD, am
I catching you at a bad time?” Does my voice really sound that bad? “No Chuck, what can I help you with?”

“The NYPD and the FBI need your help on a case. I know it’s the weekend, but time is of the
essence. Can you come down to the station and take a look at our files and see what you think?”

I shiver in my chair. Has to be another missing girl case,
cause that’s the only time they call on me. Its times like this I second guess my choice of profession. “What’s the case?”

“The daughter of a high profile bank CEO washed up on the Hudson and the similarities are......astonishing. I’d rather go over the details in person. Can you help?” He asks.

After thinking for just a few seconds, I decide that....yes, I need to help. If my experience can help one girl, then it’s worth it.”

“Sure, give me an hour or so and I’ll be down.”

“Thanks. See you then.” He says as he disconnects the call.

Great, there goes my weekend. But, as I said earlier if I can help one girl, then it makes it
worthwhile.

After taking a shower, I throw on jeans, a tee-shirt and my Chucks. Yes, I know this is not professional, but it’s Saturday and I figure I’m going to be there for a while, so I might as well be comfortable.

I catch a cab down to NYPD HQ and dodge the traffic trying to cross the street. It’s a little cool today, so I pop the collar of my jacket up over my ears and enter the crowd of people crossing Lafayette Street. As I push the door open, a gust of wind blows through and almost knocks me down. As I sway to my right, I’m steadied by.....him. The man from the bar last night.

He towers above me and as I look up, I see him smiling. His eyes light up and his lips curve up into a sexy smirk. And what is that in his eyes? Recognition? I shake my head, no. Surely he doesn’t remember me.

“I’m sorry, wind just about blew me over.” I say as I straighten my jacket collar and try to compose myself.

“Well, you don’t weigh but a buck fifty, so any gust of wind could blow you over.” He says in a gravely, husky voice.

Embarrassed, I sneak under his arm that is now holding the door open and make my way to the reception desk. I know that was rude, but the totally threw me off guard. “Doctor Sydney DeCarlo here to see Chuck Matthews.” I tell the older lady behind the counter.

“Have a seat, Doctor. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She says.

I take a seat in the lobby and pull out my phone and call Les, letting her know who I just literally bumped in to.

“No way!” She squeals in to the phone. “Rock on girl!!”

“No no, Les. There will be no rocking on.” I say as I scan the room. “He’s nowhere to be found, so even if I wanted to ‘rock on’ with the man, he’s long gone.”

“Oh come on,
Syd. He was hot! Oh, and what are you doing down at police HQ?”

“I got a call this morning from Chief Matthews. Something about a case they need help with.

And the guy from the bar is a cop, so it’s no surprise I’d see him, I think.”

“Oh no, not again. Another missing girl?”

“I think so, but don’t know the details yet. That’s typically why they call me. I’m seriously starting to re-think my career. I wonder if Starbucks is hiring baristas.” I say quietly.

“I hear ya girl. Well, keep me posted. And if you see him again......”

“Stop it Les. I don’t expect to see him again.” I chuckle in to the phone.

“Doctor
DeCarlo?” I hear the receptionist call my name.

“Gotta run Les. I’ll call you later.” And I end the call without saying goodbye.

I make my way towards the door where there is a uniformed officer standing there. “Doctor DeCarlo?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Follow me please.” He says as he turns down a long hallway. The walls are cinder block and cold, much different than the warm and comfortable lobby area. I walk behind him, his night stick clinking against his handcuffs. That’s the only noise I hear except our feet. We reach a metal door and the officer knocks once, before opening the door ushering me inside.

“Sydney, thank you for coming in.” Chief Matthews stands and circles his desk, taking my hand.

“You’re welcome, Chuck. What can I do to help you in this investigation?” I ask as I take the seat in front of his desk.

Chief Matthews is an older man, a little round in the belly. Thinning, grey hair and thin wired glasses. He’s been on the force for probably twenty years or
more, so we’ve known each other forever. He tries to keep it professional, but after so many years I’m comfortable around him. Comfortable enough to call him by his first name. The only thing that makes me nervous is the fact that he and my father used to be friends back in Chicago. I try to not let that get to me and keep our visits professional, but sometimes that can be difficult.

“Ah, Sydney.” He says as he sits down. He shuffles some files and papers around on his desk before sliding a
manila folder towards me. He nods towards the file and I slowly grasp it within my fingers. I look at his eyes, and they are full of worry. Whether it’s worry for me or for the case, I can’t be sure. He knows my past, thoroughly. Which I guess is why he continues to call on me for these cases.

I thumb through the documents one by one. Young women, probably eighteen, nineteen
.

Dark hair and dark eyes....I suck in a breath. They look like.....me. “Sydney, as you can see by the photos of the girls.....” He drifts off.

I know I must look like a deer caught in headlights, because he stops talking. I freeze momentarily just staring at the photos of these two girls. I close the file and stand up. “I don’t know if I can do this Chuck.”

I move towards the door. “Sydney, please. Hear me out on this one. I know.....I know these girls look....”

“Like me, Chuck. THEY LOOK LIKE ME!” I scream at him, my hands shaking and my voice unsteady.

Chief Matthews comes around his desk and stands next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Sydney, we need your help on this case. The details are so.....so, shit how do I say this?”

“Similar? Creepy?” I answer with a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

“Yes. Which is why we need your expertise in this case.”

About that time a knock on the metal door causes me to jump out of my skin. I’m thankful for the distraction, because my mind was about to go somewhere it doesn’t need to go right now.

Chuck is right, they need me on this case and I need to wrap my head around it all in order to help him.

The door opens and HE walks in. All Six feet or so of man. Our eyes meet and his lips quirk up in a half grin. His eyes appear confused this time. “Gabe, glad you’re here. This is Doctor Sydney DeCarlo, the FBI profiler I told you about.”

“Well, I’m not an official ‘profiler’ Chuck, and I’m not ‘officially’ with the FBI.” I smile back at him. He has always thought I should have joined the FBI and not gone in to private practice, so he jokes with me all the time.

“A mere technicality, Sydney.” He grins.

Gabe steps forward and holds out his hand in a friendly greeting. I take it and squeeze as hard as I can. Why? I have no idea, but he smiles and then lets my hand go. “So you’re the famous Doctor
DeCarlo?” He asks as his eyes travel over me.

“Yes, though
nowhere near famous, Detective......”

“Torres, Gabriel Torres. The pleasure is all mine.” He says and my eyes stay locked on his.

A rich chocolate brown that appear to be hypnotizing me. His face is tan from the sun, his jaw chiselled and a bit scruffy, like he neglected to shave this morning. My fingers are tingling from our handshake and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

Chuck just stands behind his desk, smirking before he clears his throat. The sound jolts us out of our staring contest. “Please, have a seat.” He says as he sits behind his desk.

I sit down, thankful as my legs were starting to tremble. I have to remember I’m a professional and as gorgeous as the good detective may be, this is business and I never mix business and pleasure. I’m sure I’ll have to keep telling myself this.

“Okay...” Chief Matthews starts to speak. “As you can see, we have two young woman, very similar in features, dark hair and dark eyes are the most common features. Both are about five feet four inches and slender build, athletic. One was a runaway and the other we aren’t sure. He slides the photos of one of the girls towards me and Gabe and I both lean in at the same time, his knee brushing against mine. Gosh, I need to get my head straight or I will be no good to this investigation. Gabe senses my discomfort and backs up, but just a little.

I spread the photos of the girl across the desk. “This is Samantha Brockwood, the first victim that we know of. Her body washed up on the shore of the Hudson a month ago.”

“A month ago?” I ask, trying to confirm the dates.

“Yes, exactly one month ago, on September 12th, which was a Friday. Some joggers saw her body floating in the river.”

I scan the photos, taking it all in. Then he slides the photos of the second victim.

“This is Sophia Fishman, the second girl. She washed up on the banks of the East River, found by tourists yesterday.

I look back and forth between the photos. Both are very pretty with dark hair. Samantha’s is curly, while Sophia’s is straight. They both have high cheekbones and creamy skin, at least from what I can tell by these photos. “Are they related?” I ask, without looking up from the pictures.

No one answers right away, so I peer up at Chuck who is glaring at Gabe. “What? What is it?”

Chuck leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. I can tell he’s fighting with what he’s about to tell me, but my eyes stay on his. “Both girls were adopted and the files are closed. But we do know they had the same father. Their mothers were rape victims and both died shortly after delivery.” He says
with a straight face. “We believe both women were raped by the same man.”

I’m not sure how to process this information, but I try and also keep a straight face. As the realization hits me, I know this is the case that is going to blow my past right out of the water.

Taking a deep breath and leaning back in my chair, I ask the ultimate question. “How were they killed?”

Chuck looks at Gabe and Gabe looks at me. “Why do you keep looking at me like that? If you want my help, I need to know all the gory details.” I stare back at Chuck, trying to ignore the heated stare of Gabe.

“They were both raped, multiple times. Once he got his fill of that, he strangled them with barbed wire.”

I
suck in a breath and my fingers unconsciously travel to the nape of my neck and the small scar that still remains. My fingertips brush the puckered skin and I immediately feel a chill in the air. “Sydney, are you all right?” I hear Gabe to my left, his hand brushing my shoulder.

I can’t answer him though. All of those memories of ‘that night’ come rushing back to me in an
instant. My skin gets clammy and my muscles tense up. My mouth has stopped working and all I can do is retreat. I can still hear Gabe and Chuck talking, but I can no longer understand what they’re saying.