by Lee Mae
He left the engine running and turned to Serena. The cab was warm, the heater on full blast. “So, where do we go now? What’s next?”
She sat back, looking out the window. The sky had gone a pearly gray while they’d talked with Beckley. Maybe it would snow later, covering the lake in a blanket of fresh white flakes.
She thought of the lake, the blood on the snow, and made a note to check if CSU had cleaned up the scene, although she wasn’t sure if they could do much with blood-soaked snow and ice.
“I think I want to call Wes Callahan.”
Mike shifted, the seat creaking beneath his weight. There was a long stretch of silence and she knew Mike needed to mull that over for a minute.
“So now you believe what he told you this morning?”
She turned to him, meeting his eyes, his look unreadable. “I don’t know, Mike. But he does. And I think right now, that’s all we’ve got.”
Mike cut the engine, pocketing his keys. “Then let’s do that. The sooner we find out exactly what he knows, maybe the sooner we can get this mess solved.” He opened the door of the truck and climbed out, pulling up his hood, almost completely obscuring his face.
There was no talking to Mike on the way into the precinct, with his face shrouded by his parka. Serena waited until they were at their desks, coffee in their hands. She wished they’d stopped for something to eat, even if it was just a takeout sandwich. Hunger was the only thing that ever affected her focus. She was on the verge of asking Mike if he wanted anything when her cell phone rang.
“Daniels.”
“Serena. Do you have a minute to give me a rundown on this mess?” Serena closed her eyes. Lieutenant Nowinski didn’t exactly strike fear in her heart, but the measured tone of her boss still made Serena’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah. You want us up there?”
“I’m on my way out. I’ll stop by.” The line went dead.
“We’re on deck?” Mike smoothed down the front of his shirt and ran his hands through his hair. Serena smiled; she didn’t think Mike even realized he made those gestures. But every time the Lieutenant called or stopped by, Mike’s normally calm exterior cracked just a little. Serena liked him even better for it. Nowinski’s visits affected her as well.
“He’s on his way down.” She’d no more than spoken the words when Nowinski appeared at their door.
“Just on my way out to an early lunch with the Mayor. Thought I’d catch up with what you have. I understand it’s a particularly grisly murder?”
“Yes, although…we’re not really sure it’s a murder. There are animal tracks at the scene and our contact at the University of Madison suggested it’s most likely a very large wolf. So, we’re not ruling out some kind of animal attack.” Serena took a deep breath, forcing herself to slow down.
“Autopsy?” Nowinski stood, hands folded behind his back, peering down at her over the rim of his glasses.
“Tomorrow morning first thing. Morgan said cause of death was blood loss, so the victim was alive when he was…attacked. But…” Serena held up a hand as Nowinski drew in a sharp breath. “He also said he was most likely unconscious from bleeding in the brain.”
“Did he say it was from an injury or some type of medical condition?” Nowinski glanced at Mike, who mutely shook his head.
“Not sure until he does the autopsy. I’ll make sure to ask tomorrow.”
Nowinski held her gaze a moment longer and then removed his glasses, slipping them into his pocket.
“You know we need to hold a press conference. This is far too sensational not to address. The news managed to cover it in as much detail as they could, given they were held at bay by Officer Hunter. The number of calls from the public has increased dramatically through the morning.”
Serena nodded. “You want me to coordinate that with Public Relations?”
Nowinski shook his head. “No. I’ll do that. I’m on my way downtown and I’ll set it up for some time after noon. I want this to miss the midday news broadcasts. This is going to be sensationalized enough. Let them have until this evening to digest it.”
“Do you want Mike there with me?” Serena’s mind shifted into high gear as she organized what she’d say, how she’d say it, in front of the reporters. She forced herself to inhale and let the breath out.
“No. I’ll give the press conference. You don’t have that many under your belt and this isn’t one I want you learning on. I know you’ve done them before, but this case is too high profile. It will need a subtle spin, focusing on a probable animal attack, not a hint that it may be a homicide. I don’t think you have the finesse to pull that off just yet. You understand, of course.” He held her gaze, head tilted to the side, almost daring her to speak.
Serena nodded, the safer alternative to speech at that moment. She wanted to believe Nowinski’s explanation, but she knew the real reason the answer was no was that she was a woman. It had happened before and she knew it would happen again. It tore at her every time, but this time was different. This was her case, her first big case as a detective, and to be blocked like this set her teeth on edge.
“Fine. Let me know if there’s anything else I should know for the conference, and let me know what the findings are from the autopsy. Are you attending?”
“Yes, we’ll be there.” Serena saw Mike nodding although she knew he detested attending autopsies. But he’d be there nonetheless.
Nowinski turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Serena heard Mike release a pent-up breath and looked at him.
“Sorry, Serena. Try to relax.” Mike shrugged. “I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s all I’ve got.”
Serena blew out a breath, rubbing her neck. She hadn’t realized she’d pulled her shoulders up around her ears until Mike pointed it out. She took another deep breath, eyes closed, counting to three before she let it out, slowly and evenly. When she opened her eyes, Mike was watching her.
“Callahan and the footprints? Not a topic you’re ready to share?” Mike cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Not yet. There’s no reason to let Nowinski know about Callahan until we see what he really has to offer. And the footprints…” Her voice trailed off and she picked up a pencil, tapping it against the desktop.
“That hits a little too close to home, Mike. Way too close.”
11
Wes Callahan answered on the third ring. He didn’t sound surprised to hear Serena on the other end of the line, nor did he seem surprised that she wanted to meet. She could almost see his confident smile and clearly heard it in his voice. She was vaguely irritated…and confused…by her own reaction to hearing Wes’s voice. The thudding of her heart and the sudden dry mouth were unexpected. The little frisson of excitement running through her body absolutely confused her. It had been a long time since just the sound of a man’s voice on the phone had set off this cascade of sensations and it caught her off guard. But why was it happening with Wes Callahan, and why now? That bothered her the most. Wes’s voice on the other end brought her back to the here and now.
“I’d be happy to stop by the precinct, Detective Daniels, and meet with you and your partner.”
Serena glanced up. Mike had his head down, phone cradled against his shoulder, scribbling on a pad of paper. She swiveled her chair, looking out the window, her back to Mike.
“I can meet you…where are you staying?”
“I’m downtown, at the Hyatt.”
“Fine. Are you there now?”
“I will be.”
“Would later this afternoon work for you, say around five?”
“It would. Room 420.”
“I’ll see you then.” She flipped her phone shut and stared out the window. The snow had started, big flakes floating down, almost invisible against the sky. She could only see them as they fell in front of the backdrop of trees on the distant shore. Everything else she saw were in shades of gray set against the flat white of the lake.
“So, you’re meetin
g him?”
Serena spun around. Mike sat with his hands folded on his desk, watching her.
“He had…he’s out. Doing whatever it is he does. It’ll be easier if I swing by, meet him on my way home.” She tapped her phone against her desktop. Lying wasn’t something she was good at, at least in the context of not telling her partner the truth.
But there was a voice inside her, a voice that she’d thought she’d never hear again, telling her Wes Callahan might be something else, tempting her to think of him as something more than just a lead on a case. It was a completely unwanted, alien thought. She’d never compromised a case before in any way and had no intention of starting now.
But the voice was seductive, irresistible, and she felt strangely powerless to resist its siren call.
There was another beat of silence between them, and then Mike looked down at his notes. “I think we have a way to get an ID on our John Doe.”
“Oh yeah?” Serena leaned forward, pushing Callahan to the back of her mind, the voice slowly fading.
“Yeah. He had a tattoo on his back, a large piece, obviously not flash art, something custom.”
“Gang related?”
“Nah. It’s some kind of Japanese thing, like one of those…what’s it called? The mob guys with the full body tattoos?”
“Yakuza?”
“Yeah. Not that I think our guy’s in the Japanese mob, but it’s a start, I guess. Here…” Mike slid his phone across their desks toward Serena and she leaned forward, pulling it toward her.
The image on the screen showed their John Doe’s back, post-mortem changes evident. But the tattoo was still visible, a large orange koi fish covering most of the man’s back.
“You think if he had the work done in Madison, someone might recognize who did it?” Serena studied the image on the screen.
When there was no answer, she looked up. Mike was studying her again. She held his gaze. He drew in a breath and Serena held hers, waiting for whatever he was going to say. But he let the breath go and said nothing.
“Can you print me an eight by ten of this? I’ll swing by a shop I know, see if they have any idea who the artist might be.” Serena stood, handing the phone back to Mike.
“Something else. Can you call the PDs where the murders Callahan mentioned took place, get a copy of the case files? I’d like to see if there are any similarities between our guy and theirs.”
“Will do.” Mike placed the phone on his desk.
“You hungry? I’m going out for a sandwich from Delmonico’s. Want me to bring you back anything?”
Mike reached for his wallet, but Serena waved him off. “My treat. You drove to see Beckley. I’ll get this.” Serena shrugged into her jacket, pulling her gloves out of the pockets.
“Thanks, Serena. I’ll take whatever you’re having.” Mike already had his head down, scrolling through the phone as he sent the photo to the printer.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Serena headed toward the stairs, bolting down the first flight, stopping on the next landing. What the hell was she doing? Callahan was a lead, nothing more, could never… should never be anything more.
But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her mind, the image of him sitting beside her desk. Details came back, flooding her in a sea of hot confusion: the color of his eyes…gray. Not blue, but a soft gray. The arch of his brows above those eyes, black, like his hair. His hand as it rested on the arm of the chair. His mouth, curved in that cocky smile. She shook her head, trying to scatter the images.
Serena ran down the rest of the stairs, pushing open the door to the lobby, breath catching in her throat. She needed to get focused and stay that way. The case mattered, not some stranger who showed up telling tall tales and retelling old legends. Not a stranger who exerted some kind of strange pull on her emotions.
12
Delmonico’s was packed, the line almost to the door. It took her far longer than she wanted to get their sandwiches and get back to the precinct. She pushed open the lobby doors, glanced at the bank of elevators and at the lines waiting, and decided to take the stairs.
She came down the hall, the sandwiches and sodas balanced in her hands. She rounded the corner into her office, colliding with Nowinski.
“Daniels…slow down.” Nowinski’s hands came down on her shoulders, jarring her more than steadying her.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I just…”
“Lunch. I see.” Nowinski stepped around her, moving to the doorway. “Mike was just filling me in on where you’re headed next.”
Serena’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Mike, anxiously framing what she wanted to say. What had Mike told him? How was she supposed to explain to Nowinski about not mentioning Callahan before?
“I showed him this.” Mike held up the paper with the image of the tattoo. “And that we have a lead on maybe getting an ID from the tattoo.”
As usual, Mike’s face held no expression. She took two steps and set the sandwiches and sodas on Mike’s desk, taking the paper from his hand.
“I know someone at one of the better shops down on Willy Street. They might be able to tell me the artist, and from that, maybe who the client was.”
Nowinski’s cool gaze rested on her for a moment. “Fine. Then I’ll leave you to that. Update me as soon as you can. I have a press conference to give.” He strode off down the hall, heels clicking on the wood.
Serena shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair. She took her soda and sandwich and sat at her desk, unwrapping her lunch. Mike leaned back in his chair, the food remaining untouched in front of him. She took a bite, savoring the flavors of roast beef with mustard, tomato, and onion. It took her a minute to realize Mike was staring at her. She frowned at him as she chewed.
“What? You look like you’re bursting at the seams.”
He sat forward, hands on the desk. “It’s just…well, Nowinski seemed irritated that you’d left when we had a lead on identifying our guy. I told him we’d just gotten the photo from the ME. Maybe he was just anxious about the press conference.”
Serena regarded Mike for a moment before she took another bite of her sandwich. She chewed in silence for a minute. “I want to ID this guy just as badly as everyone else. But we can only work with what we have when we have it.” Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive.
Mike held up his hands. “Serena, I’m on your side here, remember? You’re lead. I’m not criticizing, just letting you know, you know?” He began slowly unwrapping his sandwich. “What did you bring me? Something with that spicy mustard again?” He lifted the top slice of French bread, peering beneath.
“Roast beef, tomato and onion, but minus the mustard.” She grinned. “I remember the hell you raised last time I got you a sandwich with mustard.”
Mike replaced the bread and took a bite, chewing slowly. He nodded. “This is good,” he mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich.
Serena took a sip of soda. “We need the AC guy and the jogger interviewed. You want to set that up?”
Mike nodded, still chewing. “Already set. The Animal Control guy is off his shift in about an hour. He said he’d stop by. I’m going to interview the other guy, um…” He flipped through his notes with one hand, scanning the scribbles on the pages.
“Robert Perkins. He’s a lawyer, works out of his home on Spaight. I’ll swing by after I finish with the AC guy.”
“Okay, good. Also, can you send a uniform out to canvas the ice fishermen? They should be out on the lake. Someone may have been out early, left before we got there, maybe didn’t realize they saw or heard anything.”
“I’ll send Evans. He seemed to enjoy his time out on the lake with us this morning.” Mike made a note before taking the last bite of his sandwich.
“You chew any of that or did you just inhale?” She set her sandwich down, mostly uneaten, wrapping it back up in its paper. Her lunch wasn’t agreeing with her. It had taken the edge off
her hunger, but now her stomach was twisted in knots. She knew it was because of Callahan and she sighed in frustration. She pushed him out of her mind and stuffed the sandwich in her desk drawer.
“I chew my food, mom.” Mike grinned at her, and the knot inside her loosened a little. “I’ve just got a bigger mouth than you.”
Serena made a face at Mike and grabbed the photo of the tattoo, squinting at the image. “I’m going to go down to Willy Street. Lenny’s pretty well known in the business. He might have some kind of idea where this work was done.”
“You coming back?”
She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. “No. I’ll swing by and see Callahan. And then I want to ask around home, see if anyone’s seen anyone new or suspicious.”
“Based on the tracks…or prints…maybe you should be asking if anyone’s seen any large, naked, frostbitten men in the Falls. With as cold as it’s been, some of his, ah…parts would be affected.”
Serena laughed. “Yeah, you’d think someone would have noticed that.” She pulled on her jacket again. Winters in Wisconsin seemed like an endless ritual of putting on and taking off outer gear. And losing mittens and gloves. Serena fished in her pockets, coming up empty handed.
“Shit. I left my gloves in the car.” But she saw them clearly, lying on the counter at Delmonico’s. She’d been preoccupied with Callahan and had walked off without them.
“Call me if anything comes out of the interviews. Otherwise, I’ll meet you at the ME’s office at seven thirty, okay?”
Mike was already dialing the phone and he nodded, waving her off. As she walked out of the door, she heard him asking for Evans. She grinned to herself. Evans had been the frozen-faced uniform. She thought he’d probably assume it was Serena who’d requested he canvas the fishermen. That was fine with her; sometimes being thought of as a hard ass was better than not being thought of at all.
Traffic was lighter, the rush of lunch fading. She found a parking spot on the side street off Williamson, grabbed the photo, and climbed out, locking her car.
