by Frank Zafiro
“Do you have any DNA?”
Tower shook his head.
Kami Preston scrawled furiously on the yellow legal pad in front of her.
“Any injuries the attacker may have sustained in the commission of the offense?” Patrick asked.
“His last victim, a schoolteacher, blasted him with a small canister of pepper spray,” Tower explained. “But within a few hours, all evidence of that was probably gone. One trip through the washing machine cleans the clothes. A few hours and lots of water takes care of the spray effects on the bad guy’s eyes and face. So if he lives alone, and he probably does-”
“Why do you say that?” Julie asked him.
Tower glanced at her. “He’s a rapist.”
“That means he lives alone?”
“I just think it would be hard to-”
“I wonder, detective, if you are falling into the trap of stereotyping your suspect.”
Kami Preston paused in her feverish writing and looked up. Tower felt her eyes and those of everyone else in the room boring into him.
“Excuse me?” He asked, stalling for time. “Stereotyping?”
“Yes,” Julie answered immediately. “It’s a common mistake. There are a lot of myths surrounding rape. It wouldn’t be good to…”
Jesus, she’s a pit bull, Tower thought. And she’s all over my ass.
“…immediately assume that a certain myth or stereotype holds true. In fact, it may even hamper your ability to discover…”
Tower held up his hand, interrupting her. “The thing about stereotypes, Ms. Avery, is that while they might make some people of a particular political persuasion uncomfortable, they became stereotypes for a reason.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“And what, pray tell, is that reason?”
“Because they are usually true.”
“That’s a rather ignorant view of the world, don’t you think?”
“No,” Tower said. “It’s a rather realistic one.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Captain Reott said. “Let’s remember we’re on the same team here.”
“Just a friendly discussion, Captain,” Tower said icily.
Reott shot Tower a warning glare before continuing. “I think what Detective Tower was getting at was that if the suspect lives alone, there won’t be any witnesses to him coming home covered in pepper spray. Isn’t that right, Detective?”
Kami Preston renewed her frantic note taking.
Tower shrugged. “Sure, that’s part of it.”
“What’s the rest, then?” Julie asked.
Tower glanced at Renee, then back at the advocate. “Well, it’s just a theory, but I think it’s clear that this guy is pretty angry at women. Probably too angry to be in any sort of relationship right now.”
“Whose theory is this?” Patrick asked. “Has the FBI profiled this guy or something?”
That’s just what we need, Tower thought. The Feebs.
“No,” he told the prosecutor. “But-”
“I have,” Renee said.
All eyes turned to Renee, including Tower’s. He regarded the analyst with mild surprise.
“Go on,” Patrick said.
Renee cleared her throat. “I’ve reviewed all of the witness statements, as well as Detective Tower’s investigation of the crime scene. The medical evidence, too. Based on all of that, I think we have someone with obvious anger issues toward women. I believe he is acting out his anger at one or possibly two women by attacking another, unrelated woman. It’s called psychological transference.”
The assembled group digested her words. Tower allowed himself a little smile. Despite the fact that he’d been a jerk to Renee, the analyst was sticking up for him. He glanced over at Julie. The copper-haired woman was nodding her head slightly in agreement.
“Indulge me for a moment,” Patrick said, “but why wouldn’t he just strike out at the person he’s angry at?”
“Could be any number of reasons,” Renee answered. “She could be unavailable, located far away. If it is a mother or grandmother he’s angry at, she could even be dead. But more likely, he is too intimidated by that person to strike directly. If it is a maternal figure, she’d have had control over him for most of his adult life. That grip may still be too strong, even now. So instead, he lashes out at other women. In doing so, he symbolically lashes out at her.”
“You think it’s a mother figure?” Julie asked her.
Renee turned to the advocate. “I believe that is the most likely candidate, yes. Even though it is a bit of a stereotype.”
Julie’s eyes widened slightly at the comment. Then she pressed her lips together and gave Renee a small nod. Touche, she seemed to say.
Tower watched on, amazed.
“Of course,” Renee continued, “as we see that the violence in his surrogate assaults is escalating, that gives me concern that he may be girding himself for a strike at the true object of his anger.”
Patrick nodded. “Meaning he’s working up the guts to go after Mommy Dearest.”
“Possibly,” Renee said. “Either way, there’s no denying that his violence is escalating.”
“It would appear so,” the lawyer agreed. He turned back to Tower. “Do you agree with her assessment, detective?”
“Yes,” Tower answered immediately.
“So what I’m hearing is that we have no substantive witnesses for a rapist that is leaving virtually no physical evidence of any prosecutorial value and who is becoming progressively more violent. In fact, what I’m actually hearing is that this may become a homicide case before it is over.” Patrick sighed. “Wonderful. So what are we going to do?”
“That is what this task force is going to address,” Captain Reott said. He pointed at Tower. “Detective Tower remains lead investigator, with you and your staff to assist him. Lieutenant Crawford will head up the task force. Lieutenant?”
Crawford began speaking without preamble. “The task force will consist of two parts.” He held up one finger. “The first part will be a pair of my Major Crimes detectives who will be available for any investigative follow-up that Tower needs done.”
“Such as?”
“Canvassing for witnesses, monitoring and screening the tip line, things like that. Shoe leather and grunt work. They get anything hot, they’ll bring it to me and Tower.”
Patrick nodded and motioned for Crawford to continue.
The lieutenant held up a second finger. “The second part will be a decoy detail. We’ll run a decoy officer around the city in a variety of locations that Renee here believes would be likely targets for the rapist. The decoy will be dressed as a jogger. There’ll be a two-officer cover team assigned to her at all times. Our hope is that the scumbag decides to go after our decoy. If he does, we take him down.”
Patrick considered the plan. He traced a stick figure on the top of the notepaper, the only writing he’d done during the meeting so far. Next to him, Kami Preston’s pen skipped across the yellow page in front of her.
“Let’s say you catch the offender,” he said. “From what you’ve already told me, you have no evidence to link him to these other attacks, correct?”
“That’s right,” Crawford said. “But if we bag him on an attempted rape, we might be able to get a search warrant for his car and his house. There may be evidence from the other rapes in one of those two places.”
“That’s a fishing expedition, Lieutenant,” Patrick said. “You know that no judge will sign a search warrant for that. The warrant has to be to look for evidence related to that specific arrest.”
“I’m not asking you to put in the search warrant that you’re looking for evidence of the other rapes. But if you can get into the guy’s house, and while searching for evidence of the most recent assault, the detective comes across evidence of the other assaults, well that’s just lucky.”
“That’s pretextual.”
“It’s good police work,” Crawford said.
“Maybe so,” Patrick replied, “but it would be attacked in court and likely suppressed as evidence. Avoiding that sort of thing is, I believe, why my office was brought on board at this early juncture, correct?”
Crawford ignored his question. “Even if you don’t get enough for a search warrant, we’ll have the guy on an attempted rape. That’s a solid charge.”
“I agree,” Patrick said. “But how will we know it is the right guy?”
“The rapes stop,” Crawford told him. “Or maybe he confesses.”
“Both would be nice,” said Patrick.
“The most important thing is to stop this guy, one way or another,” Captain Reott said. “Before another woman gets hurt.”
“I agree,” Julie said quietly.
“Me, too,” Tower added.
There was a moment of silence in the room. Then Patrick asked in a soft voice, “What do you think the odds are of this tactic drawing out the rapist?”
“Not very good,” Crawford admitted. “But a hell of a lot better than doing nothing at all.”
Graveyard Shift
2108 hours
Lieutenant Robert Saylor put aside the “hot board” full of briefing memos after he read the final one aloud to the assembled graveyard patrol officers. Just in case he wasn’t finished, though, Officer Katie MacLeod kept her pocket notebook in front of her.
“Last item,” the lieutenant said. “As most of you already know, the Rainy Day Rapist struck again yesterday. That makes his third victim. This one was a fifty-six year old school teacher.”
Angry muttering erupted and rumbled through the roll call room.
Saylor raised his hand for quiet. “In response to this, a task force is being formed to focus on this case until he’s caught. Investigations is heading it up, with Detective Tower still in the lead. However, Patrol will assist. I’ve been asked for four volunteers. One will be a female decoy, three will rotate as part of a two-officer cover team.”
Katie swallowed. A small surge of adrenaline pulsed through her limbs.
If they need a female, there aren’t many to choose from. They’ll probably ask me to —
Officer James Kahn raised his hand. “El-Tee, I nominate Hiero for the job of female decoy,” he said.
The assembled group burst out in raucous laughter. Katie reluctantly allowed herself a small smile. Humorous moments from James Kahn were infrequent at best. Of course, it figured that he’d choose something like this to joke about. In addition to being the platoon grump, Kahn was also a dyed-in-the-wool skirt-chaser. Katie didn’t know what women saw in him, other than the badge, maybe. He reminded her of an older, less handsome and much crasser version of Giovanni.
Hiero, who sometimes rode partners with Kahn, waited for the laughter to subside. Then he shook his head. “Sir, if you assign me, the first thing I’m doing is filing a sexual harassment suit against Jimmy here. It’s hard enough fending off his clumsy advances all night. If I have to wear a skirt — ”
Another round of laughter exploded around the room. This time, Katie didn’t join in. It always amazed her how quickly gallows humor swept in to displace the anger and concern.
“All right,” Saylor said, raising both hands up for quiet. “Joking aside, this is a serious assignment. Sergeants, meet me after roll call so we can get the task force personnel figured out.”
Saylor turned and strode from the room.
“A little touchy, isn’t he?” Kahn muttered, returning to grouch mode. Katie figured he’d spend the rest of the shift that way, maybe the rest of the week.
Sergeant Shen looked around the table. “I guess he figures that these assaults are a pretty serious issue, that’s all.”
“Everything we deal with is serious, Sarge,” Kahn said.
“So it is,” Shen agreed. “Is anyone interested in volunteering for this task force?”
No one looked at Katie, but she felt the attention of her entire platoon on her. Warmth rushed to her face. Her heart pounded in her ears.
Don’t ask me to do this. Ask me anything else, but not this.
She licked her lips. Since coming on the job five years before, she’d been involved in a variety of sticky situations. An armed robber fired shots at her once in a dark construction lot. A drugged out wife-beater threatened her with a bloody knife. And, of course, she faced the unwinnable situation the previous spring on the Post Street Bridge.
She faced every one of those situations head-on. She pushed through them. She survived.
I don’t want to do this.
Besides, how many rape reports had she taken? Dozens, at least. And how many rapists had she arrested? Ten or so? More? She’d never been afraid of any of them. So why was she afraid now?
I do NOT want to do THIS!
A couple of her sector mates had turned their eyes toward her during the brief silence following Shen’s question. She looked up at each of them, then at Shen. The sergeant regarded her calmly.
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t-
“I’ll be the decoy,” she told Shen. Then, clearing her throat, she repeated, “I’ll do it.”
Sergeant Shen nodded his thanks.
Katie MacLeod, who sometimes hid but never ran, nodded back.
2127 hours
Sergeant Miyamoto Shen closed the door to the sergeant’s room behind him as he entered. Lieutenant Saylor sat reviewing and approving patrol reports. He glanced up as Shen entered and set aside the stack of papers.
“How’d it go?”
“Did anyone volunteer from the other two sectors?” Shen asked him.
Saylor shrugged. “A few cover officers.”
“But no decoys?”
Saylor shook his head. “There’s all of three women on graveyard right now. One of them is MacLeod, who’s yours. The other two females weren’t interested. One of them is going on vacation tomorrow and the other one…well, she just wasn’t interested.”
“MacLeod volunteered,” Shen said.
“I figured she would. She’s got grit.”
Shen nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a warrior, I agree. But everyone has limits.”
Saylor looked closely at Shen. “You don’t think she’s up to it?”
“I’m sure she is. That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what?”
“It’s just that she’s been through a lot in the last couple of years. I don’t wonder about her ability to handle any one incident, just about how she’ll handle the cumulative effect of all of them.”
Saylor considered, then shrugged. “That’s the life of a cop.”
Shen pressed his lips together in obvious disagreement. “I just don’t want to lose a good troop because we push her too hard or ask too much of her.”
He may be right, Saylor thought.
Nonetheless, he reached out and clapped Shen on the shoulder. “Relax, Sergeant. We ask too much of these men and women every day. At least, we ask them to face the possibility of paying too much. They can handle it. MacLeod can handle it.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Shen said, but his voice had a hint of a doubtful tone.
“I am,” Saylor assured him. “Now, who should we assign as cover officers?”
“As soon as she volunteered, Battaglia and O’Sullivan offered to serve as cover officers.”
“Are you all right with that?”
Shen nodded. “Both are good cops, if a little immature at times. And they like MacLeod. They’ll take the job seriously.”
“Who’s your number three, then?”
“I’m going to assign Chisolm. The first night of operations for the task force is tomorrow and he’ll be back from his days off. He can rotate through with Battaglia and O’Sullivan.”
Saylor nodded his approval. The presence of a veteran officer like Chisolm would keep Battaglia and O’Sullivan grounded.
“Good choice,” he agreed.
“Let’s hope they’re successful,” Shen said.
2319 hours
He felt it in his chest. It was like a burning pain at times. Other times, it felt more like a cold knife. No matter what, it welled up inside like a tsunami, forcing against his throat, his limbs, his mind.
It made him rock hard.
It made him tremble.
Hookers weren’t helping anymore, he discovered. He tried to go with one earlier in the day, but had to stop. He felt the energy, the power, surging inside him. He didn’t know if he could stop himself once he started. He didn’t believe that River City would care much about a dead hooker, but he didn’t want to waste his power on such a worthless target.
He wanted…no, he needed a real woman.
Someone who was closer to her.
He pulled in a deep breath of the cool night air. Sitting on a bench in Riverfront Park, he enjoyed the quiet of the night around him. The Looking Glass River flowed gently through the center of the park, located just on the fringe of downtown River City.
He liked it here. It was quiet, with only the light hiss of nighttime traffic in the distance. The air was cooled by the river. The coolness felt good on his face, eyes, and as he drew it into his throat. Although he’d been able to wash out all of the mace that woman had sprayed him with, a light burning remained.
His mind flashed to the front seat of the teacher’s car. She reminded him so much of Mrs. Reed, or what she would probably look like know. Sure, he hadn’t gotten the chance to fuck her -
Bitches ruin everything, don’t they?
— but he definitely laid the whammo on her, didn’t he? She got a good finger-banging first, then a good old fashioned beating. And if his eyes and throat hadn’t been burning like hellfire, he would have finished the job.
He smiled.
The park was nice for other reasons. People felt safe in this park. The wide paths and frequent lighting gave them a sense of security. Unarmed patrols of rent-a-cops bicycled through periodically, heightening that perception of safety.
But it was all an illusion.
No one was safe from him.
That made him smile even wider.
He’d been watching them pass by for over an hour now. Short, tall, fat, thin, beautiful, ugly. Didn’t matter. They were all bitches, every one of them.
