by Sharon Dunn
Harlan shook his head. “Don’t give up so easily, Darcy.” Harlan walked away from the body, eyes studying the ground. “I still don’t see any shell casings.”
“Even if we don’t find any, I say the guy was shot here. Plenty of people in the park. Someone would have noticed a body being dragged or hauled here. There is no way to get a vehicle to this area without raising alarm bells. If he was shot here, the killer must have used a sound suppressor,” she noted. “Otherwise someone would have heard the shots and phoned it in much sooner. I can see the early stages of rigor in the face and neck muscles, I would put the TOD at less than three hours ago.”
“You know this is about the same area that Reuben Bray shot that guy. Same MO, too, shot at point-blank range,” Harlan said.
Darcy had thought of that, too. “Reuben is sitting in a jail cell in Rikers. I’m set to testify at his trial soon.” She looked back at the dead man. “I hope we don’t have a copycat on our hands.”
She tilted her head. The overcast sky hinted of rain. “We better hurry or a bunch of evidence is going to be washed away.”
Jackson Davison came to the edge of the crime scene. “Smokey’s getting restless. I’m going to take him for a run. I’d be curious to know about that gun.”
Focused on her work, Darcy barely looked up. “Sure, I’ll let you know once we get the lab results. Fingerprints. How recently it was fired. Who it’s registered to...blah, blah, blah. You know the drill.”
Jackson laughed.
She liked that he seemed to get her sense of humor.
The team worked on, taking photographs and collecting any possible evidence just as rain started to sprinkle from the sky. The coroner moved in to load the body to be taken in for an autopsy.
She unzipped her suit and took off her booties, handing them over to Harlan to dispose of.
“Need a ride?” Harlan shouted over his shoulder.
“Thanks, I took the subway here. I can take it home if you can pack my gear out.” The gear would stay in the forensics van for the next time she got called to the scene of a crime on her day off.
She walked the crime scene one final time, taking mental photographs and making sure she hadn’t missed anything that might be important later. It was a practice she’d learned early in her career. Though the team was meticulous in photographing everything, she needed to keep a picture in her head, as well.
“Satisfied?” Harlan asked as he loaded the last piece of equipment into the van.
Darcy nodded. She just wanted to get home and soak in a hot tub. Not so much because of work—she loved her job—but because the church event had been such a disaster. “See you bright and early in the morning.”
Harlan gave her a salute before walking away.
The crime scene tape remained in place. Darcy picked up her coat and purse from where she’d set them next to an officer guarding the scene when she’d arrived. She stared at the empty space now that everyone had left. Already her mind was trying to picture the scenario that had brought the dead man here. She looked at these cases as a puzzle to be solved. Right now, she only had a few pieces to work with. “How and why did you end up here, Griffin Martel? What is your story?”
Rain started showering from the sky. It was dark. She shone the flashlight where the body had been one more time, searching for a shell casing. She looked up, aware that she was alone. It was so late that she couldn’t even hear people in the park. Most everyone had gone home.
A branch cracked in the trees that surrounded the crime scene. Jackson’s story of someone watching the body became foremost in her mind. “Hello, is someone out there?”
She shook off her paranoia. All the same, she turned and walked through the trees at a brisk pace, heading for a more open area. When she got to the path that led to the park entrance, she didn’t see anyone.
Darcy stepped toward the crosswalk to cross Flatbush Avenue. Halfway across, bright lights shone in her eyes as the roar of an engine surrounded her. A car was coming straight for her. She ran to get to the other side of the street. The car followed her up on the grass just as a body slammed against hers, taking her to the ground. The car sped past and then peeled out of view.
Off to her side, a dog barked.
“What was that about?” The voice was Jackson Davison’s. He rolled away from her.
Her heart was still racing. “I have no idea.”
He stood and reached out a hand to help her up. His hand was strong and callused. She stood on wobbly knees, resting her palm against her raging heart.
“Some crazy freak, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said.
“I didn’t get a look at the make or model of the car or we could call it in.”
Her mind tried to rationalize why someone would try to run over her. “Maybe just a guy who had one too many. I’m glad you were here. That car might have mowed me down.” Her hands were still shaking.
“After I took Smokey for a run, I was hoping to catch you or one of the other techs,” he said. “See what you figured out.”
“Any information we have is preliminary. We’ll release official statements when we know more and next of kin has been notified. Your department will get a briefing if it’s pertinent.” Her voice sounded cold. This wasn’t about Jackson. She was being defensive because of what had happened with the officer who had only dated her to move his case along. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I need to follow proper protocol.”
“I understand,” Jackson said. “Guess I’m embarrassed that I let myself get hit on the noggin like that. Just wanted to know if it was connected to finding that body.”
“Like I said, we’ve just started to connect the dots.” Darcy studied him for a long moment.
The rain intensified and the few remaining people in the area scattered. He touched her arm above the elbow. “Let’s get out of this.”
They found shelter underneath a gazebo.
Smokey nestled between them on the bench as they took seats to watch the rain. “Sorry about that,” said Jackson. “He gets kind of jealous.”
Smokey licked his face and then turned his head and groaned at Darcy.
Darcy laughed.
They stared out at the rain and listened to its symphony on the roof of the gazebo.
“You look nice, by the way,” he said. “Sorry you got pulled away from your shindig.”
“Thank you.”
Jackson seemed like a nice guy, but he was a cop, and that made him off-limits to her. Darcy stared down at the dress she’d paid way too much money for and would probably not ever wear again. The disappointment of the party at church, the crime scene and nearly being mowed down by that car—it all hit her at once. She thought she might cry. “I need to get to the subway. I want to go home.”
“You seem kind of shook up. A car coming at you like that can take its toll. How about I drive you home?”
“I don’t mind the subway.”
“Okay, let us at least walk you to the entrance.” His voice was filled with compassion. He clicked the leash on Smokey. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
As they walked through the rain to the subway entrance, she found herself grateful that Jackson and Smokey were with her. The whole evening had left her out of sorts.
At the top of the stairs that led to the subway, Darcy turned to face Jackson. “Thank you. I will let you know if we find anything once we start combing through the evidence.”
Jackson gave her a nod. She watched as he turned with his dog and disappeared into the crowd. As she made her way down the subway stairs, she had the oddest feeling that she was being watched.
She stared around at the sea of faces on the platform. Her heart beat a little faster. The crowd compressed, preparing to board the train. Someone bumped her from behind, setting her off balance. She recovered before she fell. Sh
e craned her neck to see who had pushed her. All eyes were looking elsewhere.
The doors slid open. Even as she stepped inside the train, she sensed the weight of a gaze on her.
TWO
Jackson watched from the sidelines as Darcy moved toward a throng of reporters outside the building that housed the forensics lab. Cameras flashed and news reporters pressed in close with microphones. Darcy had texted him that she’d be making a statement about the Griffin Martel murder. He’d appreciated the heads-up.
She was dressed in a navy blue suit, but he noticed that her shoes were pink and red, with colorful leather flowers, and she wore a hot-pink scarf.
Thanks to his ex-fiancée, Jackson noticed things like that. Two years ago, Amelia had wanted to make it as a fashion stylist in New York. Wanting to be supportive of her and her dreams, Jackson had put in for a transfer from Dallas. While they’d lived in separate apartments, they had continued to plan their wedding. The idea had been to stay in New York for a few years and then return to Texas. Five months after the move, she’d informed him she was in love with the photographer she worked with on the fashion shoots. Jackson and Amelia had been high school sweethearts. They’d planned a life together from the time they were sixteen. Even a year and half after their breakup, he didn’t think the hole inside would ever heal.
From what Amelia had taught him, Darcy was breaking all kinds of fashion rules. He kind of liked that about her. Though he didn’t know the reason why, it was common knowledge that Darcy Fields didn’t date cops. That suited him just fine. He was not in the market to get involved with anybody. A friendship with someone who understood the nature of his work would be nice, though.
Darcy pulled a typed statement out of her pocket. She gave Jackson a quick smile that showed her dimples then focused her attention on the waiting reporters.
“The body found in Prospect Park on Monday night was identified as Griffin Martel from Trenton, New Jersey. We still do not know why Mr. Martel was here in Brooklyn. We believe he was lured or lead to the secluded spot in the park and shot at point-blank range. No motive has yet been determined, though Martel did have a record for selling prescription drugs. Detectives are currently interviewing his known associates. Police are following all possible leads. We believe at this point that this is an isolated incident and that there is no reason for people visiting or living in New York to be afraid.”
A female reporter pushed her way to the front. “Isn’t this murder similar to the murder Reuben Bray allegedly committed? Same part of the park? Same method of death?”
Darcy remained poised despite the reporters moving in tightly around her. “Yes, there are similarities. But Reuben Bray was in a jail cell at the time of Mr. Martel’s murder.”
A male reporter asked, “Is it possible you put the wrong man in jail and that a killer is still on the streets?”
Another reporter piped up. “Are we looking at a serial killer?”
Jackson clenched his jaw. He hated the fear mongering the press tended to elicit. And he didn’t like the way they were treating Darcy.
“No, the evidence on Reuben Bray was solid,” she said.
The reporters began peppering her with questions. Because of his movie-star good looks, Reuben Bray had become a sort of media darling.
“Aren’t you scheduled to give expert testimony in his trial soon?”
“Isn’t it true that there was some controversy around charging Reuben with murder?”
“He was low-level criminal who stole cell phones and purses and then he moved on to murder. Isn’t it rare for criminals to change the type of crime they commit?”
From his vantage point, Jackson could see that Darcy was gripping the podium. But her voice remained calm. “Yes, but Mr. Bray’s psychological profile showed he was a man who couldn’t bear to be humiliated. And the man he killed had done that by chasing him down to get his cell phone back. Please, we are here to talk about the murder of Griffin Martel.”
The reporters began to crowd Darcy. She took a step back as they surrounded her, essentially blocking the door to the building.
Jackson couldn’t stand it anymore. He swooped in and gathered Darcy in the crook of his arm. “I think Ms. Fields has answered enough of your questions today.”
“Are you her protection?” a reporter asked.
“I’m her police escort.”
“Why does she need to be protected?” The female reporter trailed behind Jackson and Darcy as he led to her toward his K-9 patrol vehicle. “Ms. Fields, do you know how to do your job?”
Darcy planted her feet, her lips drawn into a straight line.
Jackson whispered in her ear, keeping his arm around her. “Don’t react. Just keep walking.”
As the reporters crowded toward the K-9 patrol SUV, Jackson led Darcy to the front passenger side. Smokey perched in the back seat in his crate, chin in the air. Smart dog, he knew better than to bark or to get excited by the people surrounding the vehicle.
“Excuse me,” said Jackson, pushing past a reporter to open the driver’s-side door once he’d settled Darcy inside.
A female reporter with a ponytail and penciled-in eyebrows stepped up to him. “Why is the K-9 Unit involved in protecting a forensics tech?” The reporter leaned a little closer to him. “Aren’t you the officer who was hit on the head the night Griffin Martel’s body was found?”
The assault had made the news. Jackson was standing so the car door acted as shield between him and the reporters. “I’m not protecting her in an official capacity. I’m doing this as a friend. It’s clear to me you guys are looking for a controversy where there is none.”
The reporter leaned over the open car door and looked straight at Darcy. “Two men are dead. Killed in a similar way and place. How do we know it won’t happen again?”
Jackson shook his head and got into the SUV. He gripped the steering wheel and let out a heavy breath.
“Thank you for getting me out of there. The evidence in the Reuben Bray case was solid. I don’t know why they have to stir things up like this.”
“’Cause they’re reporters,” Jackson said.
She glanced over at the journalists mingling outside the building. “I need to get back to the lab.”
“It’s Friday night and you’re going back to work?”
“What can I say? I live on the wild side. Stuff is piled up—I want to deal with it. It’s not like I have any place to go.”
“What are you working on that is so important that you have to give up your Friday night?”
“That home invasion—double homicide, husband and wife, little girl left alive. Lucy Emery?” Darcy said.
Jackson nodded. “I know the case well. Trust me, those unsolved homicides are of foremost importance to the entire K-9 Unit. One of our officers, Nate Slater, married Lucy’s aunt. They’ve filed papers to adopt her.”
The case hit very close to home for the entire unit. The Emerys had been murdered on the twentieth anniversary of another set of parents’ double homicide. Same MO, down to the description of the killer, and a young child left unharmed at the scene. That child Penelope McGregor, and her older brother Bradley, who hadn’t been home during the murders, now worked for the Brooklyn K-9 Unit. The team believed they knew who killed the McGregors’ parents twenty years ago, but he’d eluded capture so far. They were also pretty sure the recent murders had been committed by a copycat.
“I’d like to close that case, too,” Darcy said. “There were fibers left on the doorknob at the Emery house that might contain the killer’s DNA—if I can just isolate and extract them.”
“You’re not going to get back into the lab without being swarmed. You can take a break for dinner, can’t you? They should be gone by then.” Jackson stuck the key in the ignition.
“Sure. I can phone Harlan and let him know.” She pulled her phone from her pan
ts’ pocket.
He started the SUV and pulled away from the curb. “I know just the place.”
While she phoned the lab to let her tech partner know where she was, Jackson wove through traffic to a great pizza place close to the lab. It wasn’t Sal’s Pizza, his favorite pizzeria, which was down the street from K-9 headquarters in Bay Ridge, but it came a close second. After looking for a parking spot for ten minutes, he finally found one.
Darcy pressed her phone against her chest. “I hope we’re going to Park Pizza. It’s my favorite.”
“You’ve gotta try Sal’s sometime. But yes. And we can eat in the car since getting a table is rough.”
Jackson’s dinner choice was purposely informal; he didn’t want her thinking this was a date. They walked to Park Pizza, which was brimming, as usual, and stood in line.
They each ordered two slices to go and drinks. Once they were settled back in the SUV, Smokey rested his nose on the back seat making sniffing noises when Jackson opened the crate door so the dog could stretch and be with them while they were parked.
“He looks like he wants a bite of pizza,” Darcy said.
“He loves the smell of people food, but he’ll only eat out of my hand,” Jackson told her. “People food isn’t good for him anyway.”
With her to-go container resting on her lap, Darcy reached back and brushed the top of Smokey’s head. “He’s pretty charming, looking at me with those big brown eyes.”
She laughed and took a bite of her pepperoni pizza. Smokey moved so his nose was still resting on the back of the seat, but he was closer to Darcy.
“I can feel his breath on my neck.” She seemed mildly amused. “He really likes the smell of this pizza.”
Jackson petted Smokey’s head and then under his chin when the dog came closer to him. “What a good boy!” Smokey licked Jackson’s face.
