who
had no business in one of the most respected elite urban homicide divisions in
the country. But Jessica knew that you underestimated him at your own peril,
especially if you had something to hide.
Bontrager
crossed the alley to Jessica's side, lowered his voice. 'So, how do you like
working with Stansfield?'
'Well,
aside from the racism, sexism, homophobia and completely exaggerated sense of
self-worth, it's a blast.'
Bontrager
laughed. 'That bad?'
'Nah.
Those are the highlights.'
'How
come no one seems to like him?'
Jessica
explained the Eduardo Robles case, including Stansfield's monumental fuck-up -
a fuck-up that to all intents and purposes had led to the death of Samuel
Reese.
'You'd
think he would have known better,' Bontrager said.
'You'd
think.'
'And
we definitely like this Robles guy for that second body?'
'Yeah,'
Jessica said. 'Kevin's at the grand jury today.'
Bontrager
nodded. 'So, for messing up royally Stansfield gets a promotion and a
kick in pay?'
'The
brass works in mysterious ways.'
Bontrager
put his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. 'Well, until Kevin is back,
if you want another partner next time you're up on the wheel, let me know.'
'Thanks,
Josh. I will.' She held up a folder. 'Write me up?'
'Sure.'
He
took the folder from her, extracted a body chart, clipped it to a clipboard.
The body chart was a standard police-department form that had four outlines of
the human body drawn on it, front and back, left and right side, as well as
space for the rudimentary details of the crime scene. It was the first and most
referred-to form in the binder that would be dedicated to the case.
The two
detectives stepped inside. Jessica spoke while Josh Bontrager wrote.
'We
have a Caucasian male, aged thirty to forty-five years. There is a single
laceration across the forehead, what appears to be a puncture wound above the
right eye. The victim's right ear is mutilated. A portion of the ear lobe is
missing. There is a ligature mark across the base of the neck.'
Bontrager
went over the form, marking these areas on the figure.
'The
victim is nude. The body looks to have been recently shaved from head to toe.
He is barefoot. There are bruises on the wrists and ankles, which indicate the
victim may have been restrained.'
Jessica
continued to describe the scene, her path now forever crossed with that of this
dead man, a dead man with no name.
Twenty
minutes later, with Josh Bontrager back at the Roundhouse, and Dennis
Stansfield still on canvass, Jessica paused at the top of the stairs. She
turned 360 degrees, scanning the landscape. Directly behind the store was a double
vacant lot, a parcel where a pair of buildings had recently been razed. There
were still piles of concrete, bricks, lumber. There was no fence. To the right
was a block of row houses. To the left was the rear of some sort of commercial
building, with no windows overlooking the alley. If someone were to have seen
anyone entering the rear of the crime scene, they would have had to have been
in a back room of one of the row houses, or in the vacant lot. The view from
across the street was partially obscured by the large piles of debris.
Jessica
approached the responding officer, who stood at the mouth of the alley with the
crime-scene log. One of his duties was to sign everyone in and out.
'Who
found the body?' Jessica asked him.
'It
was an anonymous tip,' the officer said. 'Came into 911 around six o'clock this
morning.'
Anonymous, Jessica thought. A million and a half people in her city, and they were all
anonymous. Until it was one of their own.
Chapter 7
He
awoke, dreambound, still in the hypnotic thrall of troubled sleep. This
morning, in his final reverie, as the light of day
had no business in one of the most respected elite urban homicide divisions in
the country. But Jessica knew that you underestimated him at your own peril,
especially if you had something to hide.
Bontrager
crossed the alley to Jessica's side, lowered his voice. 'So, how do you like
working with Stansfield?'
'Well,
aside from the racism, sexism, homophobia and completely exaggerated sense of
self-worth, it's a blast.'
Bontrager
laughed. 'That bad?'
'Nah.
Those are the highlights.'
'How
come no one seems to like him?'
Jessica
explained the Eduardo Robles case, including Stansfield's monumental fuck-up -
a fuck-up that to all intents and purposes had led to the death of Samuel
Reese.
'You'd
think he would have known better,' Bontrager said.
'You'd
think.'
'And
we definitely like this Robles guy for that second body?'
'Yeah,'
Jessica said. 'Kevin's at the grand jury today.'
Bontrager
nodded. 'So, for messing up royally Stansfield gets a promotion and a
kick in pay?'
'The
brass works in mysterious ways.'
Bontrager
put his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. 'Well, until Kevin is back,
if you want another partner next time you're up on the wheel, let me know.'
'Thanks,
Josh. I will.' She held up a folder. 'Write me up?'
'Sure.'
He
took the folder from her, extracted a body chart, clipped it to a clipboard.
The body chart was a standard police-department form that had four outlines of
the human body drawn on it, front and back, left and right side, as well as
space for the rudimentary details of the crime scene. It was the first and most
referred-to form in the binder that would be dedicated to the case.
The two
detectives stepped inside. Jessica spoke while Josh Bontrager wrote.
'We
have a Caucasian male, aged thirty to forty-five years. There is a single
laceration across the forehead, what appears to be a puncture wound above the
right eye. The victim's right ear is mutilated. A portion of the ear lobe is
missing. There is a ligature mark across the base of the neck.'
Bontrager
went over the form, marking these areas on the figure.
'The
victim is nude. The body looks to have been recently shaved from head to toe.
He is barefoot. There are bruises on the wrists and ankles, which indicate the
victim may have been restrained.'
Jessica
continued to describe the scene, her path now forever crossed with that of this
dead man, a dead man with no name.
Twenty
minutes later, with Josh Bontrager back at the Roundhouse, and Dennis
Stansfield still on canvass, Jessica paused at the top of the stairs. She
turned 360 degrees, scanning the landscape. Directly behind the store was a double
vacant lot, a parcel where a pair of buildings had recently been razed. There
were still piles of concrete, bricks, lumber. There was no fence. To the right
was a block of row houses. To the left was the rear of some sort of commercial
building, with no windows overlooking the alley. If someone were to have seen
anyone entering the rear of the crime scene, they would have had to have been
in a back room of one of the row houses, or in the vacant lot. The view from
across the street was partially obscured by the large piles of debris.
Jessica
approached the responding officer, who stood at the mouth of the alley with the
crime-scene log. One of his duties was to sign everyone in and out.
'Who
found the body?' Jessica asked him.
'It
was an anonymous tip,' the officer said. 'Came into 911 around six o'clock this
morning.'
Anonymous, Jessica thought. A million and a half people in her city, and they were all
anonymous. Until it was one of their own.
Chapter 7
He
awoke, dreambound, still in the hypnotic thrall of troubled sleep. This
morning, in his final reverie, as the light of day
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