Spider's Web (12 page)

“Shut up for a second. I swear I had the report right here…”

Jacob stared at the captain’s desk.
Right here
was quite vague. The desk was a paperwork disaster of epic proportions. It would probably be easier and cheaper to burn the entire thing to the ground than to try organizing it.

“Forget about the damn report, Fred. I’ll print you a new one. Look, we need to discuss who’s leading the case.”

Bailey stopped throwing papers around and eyed Jacob. “You were in charge of both murder cases, and you’re the senior detective in the squad. Is there a reason you think someone else should be leading this case?”

“Well…” Jacob hesitated. “This is a serial killer case, and I have no expertise with serial killers. And it comes to mind that you were once involved in a serial killer case. And you’re the captain of this squad, so…”

“First of all,” Bailey said, raising a finger, “It wasn’t really a serial killer, just a gang member trying to eliminate the competition of the other gang. And we botched the case, nearly losing it during trial. Second, let’s face the truth. You’re a better investigator than I ever was. You’re in charge of this case.”

Jacob nodded. False modesty was something other people did. Jacob knew the captain was right: Jacob was the better investigator.

“Don’t worry,” Bailey said. “When you catch the guy, I’ll be sure to zip in and take the credit.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Jacob said. “Listen, uh… what about the FBI? I suppose we should involve them.”

“I agree,” Bailey said. “I’ll call Christine Mancuso. She’s an FBI agent, and I know her quite well. I’ll ask for the FBI’s help with the profiling.”

“Okay, but…” Jacob hesitated for a moment. “I don’t want them to come here and take charge—”

“Don’t worry about it. Mancuso can be trusted.”

“Okay. Thanks, Captain.”

“Now, go catch me a serial killer, before he kills someone else.”

Jacob got up and left the office, reassured. He looked at the squad room, at the three other detectives sitting at their computers. They all appeared busy, but he was certain they had listened to the entire conversation between him and the captain. The captain’s office door might look sturdy, but it carried sound as if it were made from silk.

“Okay, listen up,” he said. The three detectives turned to look at him.

“As you all know, Mitchell figured out that we have a serial killer in Glenmore Park, and it’s his fault that you’re pulled off your own cases.” Jacob grinned. “We need to catch this guy before he kills anyone else. Because of the case’s severity, the chief has allowed us some extra resources. Hang on…”

He got out of the room, grabbed the rolling whiteboard from the hallway and pushed it into the room.

“Ta da,” he said. “Don’t say that we’ve spared any expenses.”

Bernard whistled. “A third whiteboard. I bet even the Feds don’t have a fancy whiteboard on wheels.”

“And it’s reversible,” Jacob said, flipping the board. “See? Like I said, budget is no issue in this case. Okay, we need to get working. It’s now… eleven a.m. We have the whole day ahead of us. Bernard, Hannah, did you read the reports?”

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “And Mitchell filled us in.”

“Good,” Jacob nodded. “In all probability, the killer doesn’t have any close connection to the victims. He isn’t Tamay’s boyfriend, or Kendele’s abusive father. So we’ll focus on the
how
. How did he find our victims? Did he simply walk around, looking for young beautiful women? Not likely. He had their numbers, and he was well aware of their routines. And these days, unfortunately, he can stalk women without even getting out of bed, as long as he has a phone or tablet. Mitchell, I want you to start working on our victims’ social networks. Tamay, Kendele, and Aliza. Look for any connection, any shared friend, anything that would hint at the way the killer found the three women.”

Mitchell nodded, his face somber.

“Hannah, I want you to figure out if there’s anything we can do with the phone numbers. We already know that each was used only once, and they were all disconnected immediately after. According to the cellular providers, in each case the messages were sent from within one mile of the scene of the crime. Can we track where the phones were bought? Were they bought together? If so, how many other phones were bought by the same individual? We’ll probably have some help from the Feds, so talk to Captain Bailey and he’ll get you someone you can talk to over there.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, making some notes in her notebook.

“Bernard,” Jacob glanced at the big man. Bernard was not going to like this. “You’re going to Boston.”

Bernard groaned.

“I need someone there to go over the cases, with the help of the Boston PD. Mitchell talked to someone. A detective…?”

“Simmons,” Mitchell said.

“Right. Talk to him. If you need some political leverage to get them to help you, talk to Captain Bailey.”

“Okay,” Bernard said, sighing heavily.

“Let’s get to work,” Jacob said.

“Hang on,” Hannah said. “What about the whiteboards?”

“We’ll get there,” Jacob said. He knew they had hours of frustrating work ahead of them. Most leads would probably turn out to be dead ends. Filling up whiteboards was satisfying, made everyone feel as if they were accomplishing something. Better save that task for a bit later, when the adrenaline began to fade.

Mitchell turned to his screen, and Hannah picked up the phone.

Jacob walked over to Bernard’s desk. “Sorry,” he said.

“Carmen is going to kill me,” Bernard said. “Rory is sick, and she needs me close in case there’s an emergency. Do you know what she’ll say when I tell her that I’m now going to Boston every day?”

“You’re not going every day—”

“Jacob, we both know that this is not one trip. I’ll be there every morning for the foreseeable future, right?”

“Boston’s a nice city,” Jacob said brightly.

“Maybe you should go,” Bernard suggested.

“Look, I need someone experienced there. Someone who can make things happen. I can’t send the two young ones there; they’ll get lost in minutes.”

“We can hear you, you know,” Hannah said, her phone in her hand.

Jacob grinned at her, then turned back to Bernard. “You know this is the only way.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just tell Carmen that it’s all your fault. Don’t be surprised if she seems like she hates you next time we meet.”

“Tell Carmen that Hannah couldn’t go because she’s still not old enough to drive a car.”

A balled-up paper hit Jacob on the back of his head.

“See what I need to go through here?” Jacob said. “I wish I could go. I really do.”

Bernard shook his head, a small smile on his lips, and grabbed his keys from the table. Jacob slapped him on the shoulder and went over to Mitchell’s desk.

Mitchell was the only detective with two monitors on his desk, supplied to him after a special request by Captain Bailey. He had at least five different windows open on them, and was switching between them, clicking links, his eyes roaming the screens intently.

Watching Mitchell doing his thing made Jacob dizzy. The fact that there was no one better than Mitchell at searching and cross-referencing things online was well-known. Less well-known was the fact that Jacob could barely open his e-mail account, and even that wasn’t always a walk in the park.

Jacob knew he was falling behind, that technology was more important than ever in his job. A day would come when being good at interrogation and having a sharp instinct wouldn’t be enough for a detective. When that day came, Jacob knew, he would find himself behind a desk. He sighed. Time to start calling people.

He left himself the most undesirable task of them all: calling Tamay and Kendele’s friends and family, asking questions, trying to figure out if anyone knew about a stranger who’d approached either of them, or if any of them had complained about a stalker, online or in real life. In Tamay’s case, he would talk to people who had just lost a person they loved. There would be a lot of grief and anger in those talks, and he knew he would end the day exhausted and sad.

But being a detective was never easy.

Jacob took a bite from the slice of pepperoni pizza in his hand, staring at the phone. He had spent the last three hours on the phone, and he was already depressed. Tamay’s family were in complete shock, and talking to them got under his skin. Her friends were in various states of grief as well. Later they would all get angry, start demanding the killer be brought to justice. Anger, Jacob could handle. But right now their grief just made him sad.

“So… the phones,” Hannah said, standing next to him.

Jacob turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“I called a dozen places in the area that sell disposable phones, and got pretty much the same answer. The numbers are not issued in advance. In fact, a customer can put in his own number to replace the number issued to him. Then I checked online, and realized that anyone can buy a phone and have it delivered to any address within twenty-four hours. I talked to Agent Mancuso, and she said pretty much the same thing. She said they’ll conduct their own investigation with the numbers I gave her, but she wasn’t very hopeful. I don’t think there’s anything we can do with those phone numbers.”

Jacob nodded. This didn’t surprise him. He’d already known most of what she’d just told him, but it never hurt to double-check.

“Okay,” he said. “I think it’s time for the whiteboards.”

Hannah’s face brightened up a bit.

“Left whiteboard,” he said, pointing at it. “I want the crime scenes. Diagrams, maps, tape a few of the crime scene photos as well. I want us to get a sense of how he picks his locations. I want timelines on the right whiteboard, as detailed and thorough as possible. The exact time the message was sent, our estimated time of death, when the body was discovered… anything that comes to mind.”

“What about the third whiteboard?”

“I’ll do that one. One side will be detailing our victims. Photos, basic details, immediate acquaintances… that sort of thing. The other side of the board will be dedicated to suspects.”

“Do we have any suspects?”

Jacob sighed. “Not yet, not really, but hopefully we’ll have some by the end of the day.”

Hannah nodded and went over to the left whiteboard. Jacob sent some of the victims’ photos to the printer, and then stood by it, watching the faces of dead young women slowly slide out of the printer’s maw. They were all so young. He sighed heavily.

“Detective Cooper?” a sharp voice said behind him. “How is the investigation progressing?”

Jacob tuned around. Chief Veronica Dougherty was a striking woman, and quite intimidating as well. She was well-known for her unique body language, which often warned of an incoming outburst. When her hands went up to her curly hair, fluffing it, it meant one should get to the point. When she began to nod curtly, it was a sign she was getting impatient. And if she raised her eyebrows, the person talking with her was usually doomed. Currently she stood with one hand clutching the opposite wrist, a posture that signified she wanted to hear good news.

“It’s going quite well!” Jacob said, his brain frantically collecting every shred of political wisdom he had. “All of us are investigating the uh… leads, and some indicate patterns that um…”

“Chief Dougherty.” Captain Bailey’s voice rang across the room. He stood in the doorway of his office. “Please come in. I’ll give you a full report.”

She nodded curtly and crossed the room to enter the captain’s office, closing the door behind her. Jacob sighed in relief. There were some things he simply had no idea how to handle.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. Bernard.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Jacob? Listen. I’m sitting here with Detective Simmons, and we managed to find two similar cases.”

“Okay,” Jacob said. “Shoot.”

“The first one is a woman named Yvonne Richie. She was killed with an ice pick just hours after buying it in a local store.”

“Was there a message?”

“No, but the messages the other victims received all seemed like someone was trying to sell something, so I thought it was worth mentioning.”

“Okay. What’s the second case?” Jacob took the photos from the printer and began taping them to the whiteboard, the phone held between his ear and his shoulder.

“A woman named Isabella Garcia was stabbed to death in an alley near her work in January. She had an image of a knife sent to her just before she was killed, like an advertisement. Just the same as the others.”

“Did they recover the knife?”

“No,” Bernard said. “And no one heard her scream, even though it was day. No witnesses. It turns out she went down to that alley to smoke eight to ten times every day.”

“Okay,” Jacob said. “Send me the second file.”

“Don’t you want to have a look at the first one?”

Jacob hesitated. “I trust your instincts,” he said. “Do you think it’s relevant?”

There was a pause. “No,” Bernard finally said.

“Okay. Send me the second file, please.”

“Sure. Listen, Jacob. The Boston PD wanted to take over the investigation.”

“Uh-huh. Can Detective Simmons hear me right now?” Jacob asked.

“No.”

“Like hell they’ll take over,” Jacob said. “The clueless assholes have had someone murdering women in their city for months—since January, maybe even longer! And they found nothing.”

“They claim they have precedence,” Bernard said. “They had the first case.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it,” Jacob said.

He ended the call and knocked on Captain Bailey’s door.

“Yeah?” He heard the captain say from inside.

He opened the door. Captain Bailey and Chief Dougherty sat across from each other, both looking at him.

“We have a probable fourth victim,” Jacob said. “Killed in Boston seven months ago. Stabbed to death. Same MO, with the message.”

Captain Bailey nodded. “Thanks for the update, Detective,” he said.

“Uh… the Boston PD wants to take over the case. The say they have precedence.”

The chief’s eyes widened, and Jacob hoped she was aiming her rage at the Boston PD, and not at him. “I’ll handle it,” she said, standing up. She walked out, and stopped by Jacob. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she told him, and left the squad room.