OFF THE GRID

by Alex Kava

  “If he wasn’t dead I wanted to help him.”

  Pakula raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s Gino,” Nick said in almost a whisper.

  He watched Pakula sit back, pull in a long deep breath. Rubbed his jaw.

  Everybody loved Gino. Nobody knew his last name but he was a familiar face downtown, part of the landscape. Years ago he used to sell Italian sausage and peppers out of a rickety stand he’d set up on the corner of Sixteenth and Douglas, right in front of the Brandeis Building. Suddenly he was living on the streets. Tall, thin – a little bent over as he grew older – with friendly brown eyes that sparkled despite his situation. Security guards, police officers, even the guys on the newspaper’s loading dock gave him twelve papers every Sunday morning for him to sell and buy himself a hot breakfast that wasn’t one provided by a local shelter. They all loved Gino. Took care of him. But they hadn’t taken care of him last night.

  “Is this the guy you think stabbed Gino?” Nick held up the printout.

  Pakula nodded. “FBI thinks so, too. He’s done it in other cities. We’ve been keeping an eye out ever since he hit Kansas City about two weeks ago.”

  “Mind if I keep this?”

  “Go ahead. Maybe check with your security people. You said your company has how many buildings downtown?”

  “Nine. Plus three in the Old Market.”

  Nick folded the printout. Tucked it in the back pocket of his trousers. He’d get this bastard himself if he had to. Then he tried to decide if he should tell Pakula that the Rockwood Building had security cameras on every corner. Before he decided, the door to the lounge opened again and a young cop stuck his head inside.

  “Sorry to interrupt. A woman’s here to see you, Detective Pakula. Insisted I tell you that she brought you doughnuts all the way from Kansas City?”

  The young cop’s face flushed a bit, like he wasn’t sure if he should be delivering what sounded like a personal message.

  Pakula smiled and stood up. “Send her in here.”

  The cop disappeared. Pakula shot Nick a look. Another smile.

  “FBI,” he said. “First time I met her I was eating a doughnut. Had a cup of coffee in my other hand.” He shook his head, but grin hadn’t left yet. “She’ll never stop busting my chops about that.”

  Nick should have figured it out, but he was totally surprised when the lounge door opened again and Maggie O’Dell walked in, carrying a white bakery box that she meant as a joke for Pakula. From the look on her face when she saw Nick, he figured the joke was probably on her. But only for a second or two.

  “Nick Morrelli,” she said. “I haven’t seen you since you drove off with that blonde bomb expert in Minneapolis.”

  Nick winced. Damn, she was good.

  CHAPTER 5

  10:57 a.m. The Rockwood Building

  THE LAST TIME MAGGIE had worked with Nick Morrelli they spent hours watching security footage. Mall of America. The day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday became bloody Friday. Three college kids set off backpacks filled with explosives.

  Here they were again, sitting in a small room in front of a wall of computer monitors.

  “How’s Timmy and Christine?” she asked. She and Nick had history that went back further than Minneapolis. They’d worked on a serial killer case when Nick was sheriff. And again, years later when the killer returned.

  “Timmy’s playing football this year. Christine’s good.”

  They sat side by side in captain’s chairs like pilots in a cockpit. Pakula would join them in a half hour or so.

  “How’s your doctor?” Nick asked, keeping his eyes on the computer monitors but unsuccessful in keeping the sarcasm out of his voice.

  Instead of telling him that Benjamin Platt was not hers, she simply said, “Ben’s good.”

  She refrained from asking whatever happened to the blonde bomb expert. That was over a year ago. She knew Nick probably didn’t remember the woman’s name anymore. And there lied the reason that she had never seriously considered a relationship with Nick Morrelli. Simply put – he wasn’t relationship material. Maggie had too drama in her professional life to put up with it in her personal life.

  But charming, yes. Handsome – God, he was still gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome with blue eyes. He had managed to keep his college quarterback physique. She didn’t deny that there had been chemistry between the two of them. Just sitting next to him she could still feel it. Annoying as hell.

  She tried to turn her attention to the monitors. She was exhausted from lack of sleep. Her back was tight and tense from a slippery three-hour drive in a small rental car because everyone else had the good sense of renting the SUV’s before the snow hit. Somehow she needed to focus.

  She pulled up the chair. Planted her elbows on the table in front of her.

  “Who are you this week?” she said aloud to the computer monitor, like the Night Slicer might answer.

  “Pakula gave me a copy of the driver’s license.”

  “That’s all we have.”

  “You think he changes his appearance?”

  “He must, but I’m guessing it’s subtle. He definitely changes his name. He has a normal life somewhere. I think he travels the country on business. Different cities. A new group of people each time who don’t know him. We have that picture from the driver’s license out to every metropolitan police department. We haven’t gotten a hit yet.”

  “But you’ve been tracking him?”

  “Only by his victims. And his M.O. He’s right-handed. Uses a double-blade stiletto. At least seven inches long. He does a blitz attack. It’s probably no more than an incidental bump. Slips the blade in just under the breastbone where he knows he won’t have any bone chattering. The angle of the knife is interesting.”

  “So somehow he knows exactly where to stab?”

  “Yes, it appears so.”

  She glanced at Nick while he tapped buttons on a keyboard. He started the film footage from a camera labeled: Northwest corner of Rockwood.

  “His image was captured on a security camera at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center,” Maggie continued. “Actually it was only his back but it was enough to give us some idea of how tall he is compared to his victim. He has to angle the blade—”

  She pushed out her chair and stood. “It’s probably easier if I show you.” Fact was she was too exhausted to talk about it. He glanced up at her, paused the monitors and stood up in front of her.

  She grabbed a ballpoint pen from the table and held it in her right hand the same way she believed the Night Slicer did.

  “He holds it low. Probably has the stiletto up his sleeve until he needs it.” She stepped closer. “He always slips it in just below the rib cage.” She put her left hand flat against Nick’s abdomen to show him where and immediately she realized this was a mistake when she felt him shiver under her touch. Her eyes met his and she felt the heat rush to her face.

  Thankfully exhaustion pushed her into professional mode. She took a step back as she moved her hand with the pen and her arm in the same motion the killer must use.

  “He shoves the knife in at an upward angle. Usually pierces the heart. Sometimes the lungs. Sometimes both.”

  Finished with the show and tell, she avoided his eyes and took her seat again. Waited for him to do the same. He was slow about joining her and she wanted to kick herself. There was obvious still too much between them. She glanced over at him. Wanted to tell him she couldn’t afford any of the emotion she was seeing in his face right now.

  “Gino was a good guy,” he said, surprising her. “He didn’t deserve to die this way.”

  She was wrong. The emotion wasn’t about her. Maybe she was a little disappointed that it wasn’t about her.

  “He’s been killing two victims in each city. Usually within a period of twenty-four hours.” Maggie sat back. Ran her fingers through her hair. “Then he disappears. Gone. Like he never existed.” She looked at her wristwatch. “In less than fifteen hours he
’s going to kill someone else.”

  CHAPTER 6

  1:39 p.m. The Old Market

  HE HAD BEEN WATCHING the old woman for over an hour. He followed her around but kept to the shadows and back far enough away that she never noticed him. Though he wondered if she noticed much of anything around her.

  He’d gotten close enough to hear her muttering. Not just talking to herself but arguing as if with some invisible friend. She had abandoned her shopping cart behind a Dumpster, tucking it away to hide it as best as she could. The snow made it too difficult for her to move it over the crusted piles left by the snowplows. He almost helped her once. Wanting to touch the fringe of her gray knit hat and feel whether the fringe was part of the hat or actually her hair.

  Her territory seemed to be within the Old Market area. Interesting, since he didn’t see any other homeless people here, venturing around the cobble-stoned district. He watched as she wandered the streets quite fascinated by things no one else saw. Once he saw her stop abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and wave pedestrians around her to avoid stepping on something smashed in the snow. No one else stopped to give it a look. Most people ignored her or scowled and went wide.

  That’s when he realized she had to be the next one.

  She was perfect. Someone no one would miss. She was virtually invisible to these bastards. Even as they were forced to walk around her, they still didn’t seem to notice her. No one cared to stop and see what it was that she protecting, what she found that was so precious and fascinating that she insisted they walk around it.

  And suddenly he couldn’t wait. He wanted to cut her right now. Right here in the freezing cold sunny daylight. Right in the middle of the crowd that couldn’t see her.

  Except he hadn’t brought his knife.

  And so, he’d wait until tonight though his fingers fidgeted with anticipation.

  He walked toward her. She was bent over now, touching the object. He decided it he couldn’t resist. He needed to walk close enough just to see what it was. Then he’d be content to go back to his hotel suite and wait. He already knew where he could find her.

  As he got closer he saw her wrapping her ragged knit gloves around the object that had captured her attention and sent her into such a protective mode. What in the world could have captured her attention? Someone’s wallet? No, there was a sparkle. Cradled in her hands the sunlight glinted off of it. Perhaps someone’s lost jewelry?

  He was slowed down as he approached. A couple more steps and he was able to see her precious keepsake. The object was a long icicle. Dozens of others hung above from the awning that stretched halfway over the sidewalk. An icicle. A frickin’ icicle.

  He smiled to himself as he passed by and glanced at her. Her eyes flitted up to meet his and he wanted to tell her that he’d see her later. That it would be his pleasure to watch the surprise in those same eyes as her life spilled out of her.

  CHAPTER 7

  4:57 pm Downtown Omaha

  IT WAS ALREADY GETTING DARK by the time Maggie and Detective Pakula started walking the streets. There were crowds gathered at the ice rink and around the outside mall that stretched several city blocks long. Tonight was the lighting ceremony when hundreds of thousands of lights in trees and bushes and along rooftops would be turned on, marking the beginning of the holiday season.

  “We’ve pulled in everybody on this, looking and talking to people since five this morning,” he told her as they strolled the cobblestone streets, looking more like an old married couple than a couple of cops.

  Pakula wore an old camouflage parka but nothing on his shaved head. Maggie kept on her leather jacket and added a red Huskers ballcap that Pakula had given her.

  “It’ll help you fit in,” he told her about the cap.

  She didn’t argue. She was getting restless. Exhaustion had given way to the adrenaline that had taken over. Too much time had passed. Why did she ever believe they’d find this guy? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  She and Nick had wasted two whole hours pouring over the security tapes only to come up empty handed. At one point they saw Gino enter the frame. According to Nick it looked like he was headed around the corner to the front door where he always came to meet Pete, the Rockwood Building’s night security guard.

  But then Gino stopped and turned as if someone had called to him. The camera didn’t record sound. They watched Gino cock his head. He grinned and said something before walking back in the direction of whoever had stopped him. He disappeared from the frame. Maggie didn’t say it but she knew Gino had most likely headed right over to his killer.

  Nick was taking this man’s death personally and she didn’t quite understand. Maybe it was because it happened outside one of his buildings. He had wanted to come with her and Pakula but they stopped him. He told them he had a license to carry. Pakula told him to go get his hand looked at.

  “You should have had stitches,” the detective told him, pointing to the wrapped hand that Maggie had noticed immediately but stopped herself from asking about. “You already bloodied up one of my crime scenes.”

  Pakula bought a hot chocolate for Maggie and a coffee for himself. The steam felt good on her frozen cheeks. She wrapped her hands around the cardboard cup and let it warm her fingers. She only had thin knit gloves. Why did she always come to this part of the country unprepared for the weather?

  “You two married?” An old woman came up from behind them. She was trying to push a shopping cart filled with an odd assortment of junk.

  “No, we’re not married to each other.” Pakula answered. “How are you doing tonight? Do you have someplace warm to stay tonight?”

  The woman didn’t look like she heard him. Instead she muttered something to herself. She struggled to hike the cart over the curb that was still snow covered. Pakula grabbed the front end and lifted it easily onto the sidewalk for her.

  “They’ve got some extra beds over at Saint Gabriel’s,” he tried again.

  This time she blew out a raspberry at him. “I don’t need no Saint Gabriel. Lydia and I have been taking care of each other for years.”

  Both Pakula and Maggie looked around at the same time, looking for someone named Lydia. There was obviously no one with this woman. People went around them, even stepping into the street to do so.

  “Do you need me to help you find Lydia?” Pakula asked.

  This time the woman stared directly into his eyes, her brow creasing under her dirty gray cap. She looked from him to Maggie then back at Pakula.

  “You a cop?” she whispered.

  Pakula was good but Maggie heard him clear his throat to cover his surprise.

  “It’s okay,” the old woman reassured him, her face softening. She reached up and touched his arm, almost a grandmotherly gesture. “We’ve all heard about Gino.” She shook her head. “A damned shame.” Then she straightened and waved her hand like she was swatting at a fly. “Oh stop it, Lydia. You know who Gino was.”

  Pakula looked over at Maggie and raised his eyebrows.

  The woman probably shouldn’t be left on the streets. She obviously needed help but Maggie liked her feistiness and her spirit. As long as she had the shopping cart she was probably safe from their killer. He’d never be able to bump and slice her without having the click-clanking of that shopping cart in the way. It would draw too much attention.

  Pakula was pulling out what looked like a business card. He handed it to the old woman.

  “You know Danny at the coffee shop on the corner?”

  Another raspberry but she took the card. “My God, who doesn’t know Danny. That son of a bitch will talk your damned ear off. I take the coffee he gives me just to shut him up.”

  “You need anything,” Pakula insisted, “You hand Danny that card and have him call me.”

  “What would I need? Me and Lydia we got everything we need right here.” She tapped the shopping cart and the contents clanked and shifted.

  They watched her rat-ta-tat dow
n the street.

  Maggie shook her head when Pakula glanced over at her.

  “You can’t lock them up,” she told him. Though it would be easier to protect them if they were behind bars.

  They started walking again. Past Vivace’s and the aroma of garlic and warm bread made Maggie’s stomach groan. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten. A doughnut that morning in the rental car. No wonder she was running low on energy. She sipped the rest of her hot chocolate.

  “And there’s another sorry ass,” Pakula pointed to the homeless man in the ragged long black coat at the corner. “What am I going to do with these people?”

  But as the man turned, both she and Pakula recognized him at the same time.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” It was Maggie who posed the question.

  Nick Morrelli spun around to face them. With a five o’clock shadow and a torn felt hat with the brim pulled down he looked like a street performer instead of the homeless man he thought he was portraying.

  He simply shrugged at her and said, “You’re not the boss of me.” Then he jumped out into the street causing cars to brake and honk. He ran down the other sidewalk without looking back.

  CHAPTER 8

  6:15 pm The Old Market

  HE HAD THE KNIFE WITH HIM, the cold metal tucked up into his sleeve.

  The old woman had the cart with her again.

  Damn! But she was so cute. Pulling crap like that on him.

  In weeks past it would have made him angry, but his confidence was soaring again. And it didn’t matter. He had ruled her out in just the last hour. He had a new target.

  The guy reminded him of himself. A pathetic shadow of himself. That long dirty black coat that once upon a time was probably his power coat. Good looking guy, young. In good physical shape. Or at least he had been. Maybe he had been on the fast-track to success. Not anymore. Somewhere along the line he had stumbled big time.