by James Hunt
Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”
When he finally lifted his head his cheeks were pale, and he looked far younger than his age suggested. “I’ll get used to it. But I don’t know if I can see that body again.” He looked back down to his feet, and he gagged.
Cooper leaned in the window and unlocked the back door, pulling her laptop out of the bag and handing it to Hart. “Why don’t you do some research on any convicts who’ve recently violated their parole? Look for offenders of violent crimes, specifically for rape of younger women. That’ll be a good starting point.”
Hart nodded. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Cooper clapped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You do realize, though, that you’re going to see more of this. I’d like to say it gets better, but it doesn’t. If you can’t thicken that skin of yours, you won’t last.” And with that she left Hart to his research and walked inside the hospital. He’ll transfer out within the week.
The chrome of the table shone under the fluorescent lighting, and the sterile stench of death filled the room. The coroner retrieved the body, which looked much more peaceful with the white sheet over it, hiding the hideous wound that destroyed the victim’s face.
Doctor Hathaway had been the mortician at Baltimore General for twenty years, and it was Cooper’s longest friendship, though it was a term she made sure to use loosely around the doctor. He was an odd man, with skin nearly as pale as the dead he examined. His hairline had virtually disappeared, and the large coke-bottle glasses that magnified his eyes along with his thin frame made him look more insect than man. “The cause of death was from the object that bludgeoned her skull, and the time of death was somewhere between four and six o’clock this morning. The victim is in her late twenties, Caucasian. Early tests show no sign of any diseases or genetic abnormalities. The deceased was healthy.” Hathaway circled the body, continuing his rhetoric. “Most of the bone and brain matter was unsalvageable, though I did find light traces of iron and lead on some of the remaining tissue, which could have been from the murder weapon. The clothes weren’t hers. In fact, they were child sized. I managed to pull some fibers off and sent them in to be analyzed for DNA, along with the rape kit, but upon preliminary analysis there didn’t seem to be any signs of a forced sexual activity.”
“She wasn’t raped?” Cooper asked.
Hathaway pointed to the victim’s thighs and pelvis. “The tests will give us a better indication, but I didn’t find any bruising or lacerations normally associated with rape. I also checked the fingernails for any skin cells, but they’d been wiped clean.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Actually, aside from the brutal deconstruction of the victim’s face, the body was well cleaned and manicured.” He lifted the hand, and the nails were neatly painted and pristine. “The assailant did an excellent job of leaving the body in a preserved state.”
Cooper circled the victim in the same way the doctor had, thinking aloud. “So when the power goes out, the digital locks are useless, she escapes, and he chases her.” She leaned closer. The woman’s thick black hair still contained a vibrant sheen. She took a moment to examine the woman’s body. Fair skinned, a similar build to Kate Wurstshed, which suggested the killer had a profile he looked for in his victims. “The nails. The clothes. The hair. He wanted to make her look pretty. He wanted to give us a hint as to the type of person he is. He wants us to think that he cares about these women.” She shook her head, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth, and she propped her hands against the table. “How much longer till we get the DNA results back?”
“Tomorrow. I marked it as priority.” Hathaway set the clipboard down over the woman’s stomach and crossed his arms. “Do you think the assailant has done this before?”
“I hope not.”
Hathaway stepped around the table, the shadows of the overhead lamp shifting and accentuating the extremes of his face. “But what do you think, Detective.”
“I think he’s done this before. And I think he’s done it a lot.” Cooper felt the coldness in her voice. Most of the deaths she dealt with were accidents, moments of passion. It was rare she came across something calculated, something evil.
Cooper stepped around the body and shook Hathaway’s hand. “Thanks, Doc.” When she returned to the car, Hart had buried his nose in the computer screen. She climbed behind the wheel and peered over his shoulder. “What’d you find?”
“So far we’ve got four possible matches.” Hart clicked through the screens, allowing her to see what they were working with. “Most of them robbery with assault, but nothing sexual, except”—he held up his finger, typing quickly into the search field—“this guy. His weekly check-in with his parole officer hasn’t been logged in, so I contacted the Maryland DOC, but the PO was in a meeting. I left a message for him to call me back.”
Cooper narrowed her eyes as she looked at the file. “Two rape accounts.” She shook her head and started the engine. “I don’t understand how these animals get back on the streets.” Hart buckled his seat belt as she shifted into drive. “We’ll head back to the station until we hear back from the probation officer. I want to have a chat with Mrs. Wurstshed before she leaves.”
Hart kept his head down most of the ride over, avoiding looking Cooper in the eye. She knew what he wanted to ask, but still he kept silent. Finally, halfway to the station, looking as though he were about to burst, he spoke. “Thanks. For back there.”
“It happens to everyone their first case.” Cooper shrugged. “You know how everyone you speak with that’s worked in homicide for a long time says you get used to it?”
“Yeah.”
“If you find yourself getting used to it, then quit. You start getting sloppy when that happens.” Cooper tightened her grip on the wheel. “Everything just becomes about the pension at that point. If the department gets too full with those bastards, then it sinks. And right now I’d say we’re barely staying afloat.”
“You talking about the captain?”
“The captain, and a third of the detectives and officers in the Baltimore PD. They’re just milking it, hoping they can squeak by for another few years, and the old boys at the top are content with letting them slither onward.” Her cheeks reddened just thinking about it.
Hart was quiet for a moment before he spoke. Then he turned and looked at her. “You know, a lot of the guys at the station don’t like you. And it’s not just our precinct—all of Baltimore PD knows your name.”
“The devil detective.” Cooper glanced at Hart. “That’s what they call me, right?” She chuckled at the nickname. “Could be a lot worse, I suppose. I’m sure there are some other variations out there that I haven’t heard.”
“So you did it?” Hart asked, the curiosity getting the better of him. “You testified against your old partner.”
Cooper tilted her head to the side, keeping her eyes on the road. “Danny and I had been partners for three years. We saw a lot of shit that you couldn’t unsee, but we always did everything by the book. That was our line in the sand.” The sadness that crept up into her throat surprised her. She hadn’t talked about the investigation out loud in a long time. “He had some gambling problems a long time ago, but he got better. Then he relapsed, got in deep with some people, and when he couldn’t pay them off, he started doing a few odd jobs for them.” Cooper pulled to a stop at a red light at an intersection and looked Hart straight in the eye. “He asked for my help. But what he wanted me to do crossed that line, and he knew it did. I want you to understand something right now, and make sure it sticks. Nobody, I don’t care if it’s Farnes or the chief of police, makes you cross that line. It’s yours. You lose that, and you lose your life. One way or the other.”
The light turned green, and Cooper returned her attention to the traffic up ahead. When she glanced over to Hart he kept quiet and looked out the window. After a while he shifted in his seat. “Then it’s true about the captain too, isn’t it?” His face
turned pale like it did when he saw the body of their Jane Doe. “And his brother, the former governor.”
“Danny wouldn’t tell me who was pulling the strings at the top, making officers work the wrong side of the law.” Cooper ground her teeth and bit into her cheek. “But I know it was them. They’ve been making money off of crime for decades. The only difference between them and the mob is that the mob isn’t state funded.”
The rest of the trip was in silence, and by the time they arrived back at the precinct power had been restored, and the station had returned to its normal heavy traffic and commotion. Cooper went to the interrogation room where Hall and Kate Wurstshed had been earlier but found that Hall’s bald head had been replaced with slick-backed greasy hair. “Shit.” She opened the door and nearly closed it behind her, forgetting Hart was in tow. “I need a few minutes with your client.”
The lawyer looked up from the paperwork. His face was tanned and clean shaven. Every portion of his person was groomed, and the expensive suit was freshly pressed. “Detective Cooper. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
Cooper feigned a smile and shifted her focus to Kate. “Ms. Wurstshed, I have a few questions for you in regards to your kidnapping. I know you’ve spoken with Detective Hall about what happened, but I’d like to hear it from you if that’s all right.” The regular grimace she reserved for Farnes, Hargreaves, and anyone else that rubbed her the wrong way disappeared. She’d dealt with enough killers to know that Kate was lucky to be alive. “It would be a great help if you would.”
Hargreaves leaned over to interject. “Mrs. Wurstshed, you don’t hav—”
“No, it’s all right.” Kate cleared her throat. “Anything I can do to help.”
Cooper placed her hand on Kate’s shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.” While Hargreaves rolled his eyes, she motioned for Hart to take notes. “Where were you when you were taken?”
“I was jogging along the river.” The woman had calmed since this morning, and she had changed out of her clothes into one of the emergency jumpsuits they kept at the station. Her cuts and bruises had been cleaned and dressed, though her hands still trembled. “There was a man, standing near the water, and he slipped and fell in. He started yelling for help, so I walked over to make sure he was okay. When I leaned over the edge he pulled me down and covered my mouth. That was the last thing I remember before I woke up.” She shuddered, closing her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, which she wiped away quickly.
“Where did you wake up?” Cooper asked.
“The room was dark, except for a single light, and there was a bucket.” Kate swallowed hard. “And a bed.”
“Was there anyone else in the room with you when you woke up?”
“No. I was by myself. But I heard screaming through the walls. At first I thought it was someone trying to find me, maybe it was the police. I yelled back, but the more I listened I realized that the screams were… of pain.”
“Did you try and escape?” Hart asked.
Kates shook her head. “The door was always locked.”
“When did you see your attacker again?” Cooper asked.
Kate pulled at the cuffs of her sleeves again, tucking her hands inside the shirt. “Maybe a day later. He gave me some food and water and then left. It was like that for what felt like weeks, until…” She trailed off and lowered her head, and her shoulders started to shake.
Hargreaves put an arm around her shoulder, and Cooper reached for her hand. “It’s important to talk about it out loud, Kate.” Cooper gave a reassuring squeeze, and Kate wiped her eyes.
“He”—Kate’s lower lip trembled—“raped me.” She exhaled a sharp breath after she’d finally said it, then waited a moment before forcing herself to continue. “He tied my wrists together every time, and no matter how loud I screamed, or how much I fought back, I couldn’t stop it.” She rubbed her wrists, staring at a blank space on the table. “I couldn’t stop him.”
“Kate, listen to me. This was not your fault.” Cooper watched Kate’s eyes drift then lock onto hers. “The son of a bitch that did this is the one to blame. I will find him. I promise you that.”
Kate nodded, squeezing Cooper’s hand harder.
“How did you get out?” Hart asked.
“I could hear thunder from inside the unit. There was one loud crack, and the lock on the door released. At first I thought it was him, but the door never opened. When I walked over to it and grabbed the handle it was unlocked. I heard more screams in the hallway, so I ran the opposite way until I was outside. I didn’t stop until I found the road and followed it to the diner.”
“Did you see anyone when you were running? Hear anything?” Cooper asked.
“No. The storm was so bad I could barely see a foot in front of my face. I nearly fell off the side of the highway a few times. All I could think about was getting away.” Kate’s tone grew more frantic, and her arms trembled and her head and body quivered as if she were having a seizure.
“Detective, I think my client has been more than cooperative.” Hargreaves put his arm around Kate protectively.
With the woman falling apart, Cooper submitted to his request and let her go. She knew she still had Hall’s notes to look over, and they had Kate’s contact information if they had any questions.
Cooper and Hart remained in the room after Kate and Hargreaves left. Cooper drummed her fingers on the table in silence while Hart kept his arms crossed in the corner. She forgot he was there until he finally spoke up. “Isn’t that something we’re not supposed to do?”
“What?”
“Promise the victims that we can catch the person who hurt them?”
“I can. You probably shouldn’t.” Cooper pushed herself out of the chair and left the room. Hart chased her through the busy hallways as radios blared codes, and Cooper closed her eyes, savoring the organized madness that consumed the precinct in the heat of the day. She turned back to Hart, and the two stopped in the middle of the buzzing bull pen. “I need you to contact Kate Wurstshed’s employer, speak with the person who filled out the missing persons report. See if we can find out if she was seeing anyone, who she was close with at work. The rapist is usually someone the victim knew.”
“Got it.”
Cooper returned to her office, and when she burst through her door she froze. A woman sat in Hart’s chair, and when she turned around she offered a nervous smile, quickly standing. “Hi, Addy.” She waved with her left hand, clutching a raincoat with her right.
Cooper shut the door behind her but didn’t venture any farther into the room. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“It’s good to see you too.” The woman’s voice was less than thrilled, and she sank back into the chair, fiddling with the hem of her raincoat.
A stab of guilt pained Cooper’s side and she her stumbled forward along with her words. “I’m sorry, Beth. It’s just… I was working a case…” She dropped her arms to her side, defeated in her explanation, and shrugged. “I just didn’t expect to see you here. That’s all.” She finally broke the veil of awkwardness and gave Beth a light hug then sat down.
“I went to your house last night. I waited for an hour.”
Cooper picked at the end of her chair’s armrest with her fingernails. “I worked late. Didn’t want to drive home in the storm.” The picking stopped, and she leaned forward. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Beth shrugged, and her mouth twitched in an involuntary spasm of grief. “I didn’t think you’d answer.” Her voice caught, and she quickly turned her head to wipe her eye, regaining her composure.
Cooper leaned back, rubbing her face raw with both hands. The lack of sleep was catching up with her, and she reached for the coffee mug, which she suddenly remembered was still empty. “Of course I would have picked up. You’re my sister, for Christ’s sake.”
Beth raised her eyebrows, giving her the same look their mother used to give the two of them as she tilted her head to the side. “Wh
ich hasn’t always been an easy job.”
“What’s going on?” Cooper set the mug down as she folded her arms on the desk. “Are you and Tim having trouble again?” She tensed at the thought of her brother-in-law. If it weren’t for Beth’s persistence she would have killed the bastard years ago.
“No, it’s not that. We’re actually really good.” Beth smiled and then reached into her purse. “I found something I thought you’d want to see.” She pulled a piece of paper from her purse and passed it over the stack of case files between them.
The paper had been folded over a few times, and some of the lines made it difficult to read, but the heading told Cooper all she needed to know. “This is a paternity test.” She narrowed her eyes at her sister. “What are you doing with this?”
“I found him, Addy.” Her eyes grew big and round, as they did when she was a kid whenever she was excited about something. “I found our father.”
Cooper tossed the paper down, her interest in the subject dropped. “We didn’t have a father. As far as I’m concerned we were conceived by immaculate conception.”
Beth picked up the discarded paper. “You’re not curious as to who he was? What kind of life he lived?”
“I already know what kind of life he lived. It was one without us. The bastard left Mom while she was pregnant with you and never looked back. There was a reason she never told us who he was, because she knew we’d be disappointed. Don’t go down that road, Beth. I promise you won’t find anything good.”
“Well, it’s too late for that.” Beth removed a file from her purse and clutched it protectively in her arms. “I hired a private investigator to look into it. Everything he found is in this report.” She set the folder down gently. And waited.
Cooper eyed the manila folder, but it remained untouched. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the small space of desk, looking past the folder and into her sister’s eyes. “Beth, you wasted your time.”
“I didn’t waste anything I wasn’t willing to give up.” Beth’s tone darkened, and the added venom in her words stung Cooper harshly. “It’s been over a year since Mom died, Adila. I haven’t seen you since the funeral. You haven’t called. You haven’t written. You haven’t even sent a goddamn email. And you know how many times I’ve tried reaching out to you?” She jumped from her chair, pacing the room in circles. “Mom’s death wasn’t hard for just you. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it. For Christ’s sake, Addy. You needed to talk to someone about it. You’ve shut yourself off from everyone. How many times have you slept in this office? How much overtime have you pulled? You burrowed into work, and I needed to do something, so I went looking for answers I’ve always wanted to know!” Her cheeks reddened, and the crescendo of her rant deflated the rage. She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms over her stomach, keeping her head down.
