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Picture Me Dead. Heather Graham
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Автор произведения Heather Graham
Издательство HarperCollins
“You need him alive? We both think he’s a killer, even if he never dirties his hands himself. So why is it that you need him alive?”
“Because we need to find out what really went on back then, and if it’s recurring now. We were missing something—I mean, it seemed obvious that Bordon was calling the shots, and that there were more people involved in the deaths. Hell, maybe Harry Tennant was in on the murders, but I don’t believe for a second that he committed them alone. Marty, we’ve got to find out the truth, or we’re never going to be free of this case.” He was silent for a minute; then he grimaced and spoke flatly, with an open honesty his partner could well understand. “I need the truth. Or I’ll never be free of this.”
After a moment, Marty nodded. “Yeah, I understand. But you’re sure you’ll be all right going up alone? Captain Blake will be setting up a task force again—reinvigorating it, since we never officially closed the inquiry down. There will be other officers down here getting moving on research, questioning, digging, legwork. I can come upstate with you if you want.”
“I want one of us here. Paying attention to everything, to little details that might slip by someone else. We need to get every piece of information we’ve got on file and to keep digging up everything new we can find on Bordon’s old followers, everything we’ve got on his hierarchy—the names of everyone involved in the cult, and a bio on what they’ve been doing since Bordon went to jail.”
Jake’s desk phone rang. He picked up.
It was Captain Blake, head of homicide, on the other end.
“I understand you’ve been busy this weekend.”
“I took Sunday off.”
“To read files all day?”
“I went to see my dad.”
“Good. All right. I’ve seen the forensic reports on the girl that jogger found Friday. And yes, it’s similar to the murders five years ago. And yes, we’ll reinvigorate the task force. And if you can swear you’ll keep a level head and unproven speculations to yourself, you’ll head it again, Detective.”
“I can keep a level head.” He hesitated. “Thanks.”
“No one knew what was going on back then the way you did. It’s always been your case, and it only makes sense to keep it that way. Of course, this whole thing could be some kind of a—”
“Copycat killing? Yes, sir, we all know that.”
“And you’re not the Lone Ranger, Jake. We solve things by being a team.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, then. Meeting at ten-thirty, my office.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Franklin will be in from the FBI. You have a problem with that?”
“No, sir.” He did, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Blake. And he was damned determined that he wasn’t going to tell Franklin, either.
“Belk, Rosario, MacDonald and Rizzo will round out the group. You can always call in whatever uniformed personnel you need.”
“Sounds like we’ve got a good team and good backup.”
“Ten-thirty,” Captain Blake repeated.
“Yes, sir, we’ll be there.”
He hung up, staring thoughtfully at the receiver.
“Well?” Marty said.
Jake shrugged. Marty was a big fan of Sir Conan Doyle.
“As your Victorian super sleuth liked to say, Marty, the game is afoot.” He added, “Ten-thirty, Captain Blake’s office. He’s called in the other shifts for a meeting. We’re reinvigorating the old task force, using the same crew. We’ve got Belk and Rosario, MacDonald and Rizzo. Oh, and Franklin from the FBI.”
“Franklin?” Marty said with dismay.
“You got a problem with that?” Jake said.
“Problem? Me? Hell, no,” Marty said, starting around from Jake’s desk to take a seat at his own.
“Yep, hell no, no problem,” Jake said.
“Fuck,” Marty moaned.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Fuck,” Marty repeated. He shook his head. “Franklin,” he said. He looked bleakly at Jake. “We got a problem.”
“We’ll get past it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Marty said. He punched information into his computer, ready to search the available records. He was still shaking his head.
“Fuck. Franklin,” he repeated.
“I hear you, Marty,” Jake assured him.
“We’ll get past it,” Marty aped.
“We’ll get past it, because nothing, nothing, is going to take us off this case. Nothing—and no one.”
“Right. Nothing and no one,” Marty agreed.
Later, after they’d both spent the early morning reviewing reports and researching the records, Jake rose to tell Marty it was time for the task force meeting.
He was still shaking his head. And when he rose, reached for his jacket, and joined Jake for the walk to the captain’s office, he said again, “Fuck. Franklin.”
Jake stared at him.
“Last time. That was it,” Marty swore.
“You sure? ’Cause if not, get it out—now.”
“Fucking Franklin?” he said vehemently. Then he grinned. “All right. I got it out.” He shrugged. “The guy is efficient. He’s just such a…prick. He even walks like he’s got a broom up his ass. But he is good with a computer.”
“Right. Ten-twenty-eight. Let’s get in there.”
“Fucking Franklin.”
CHAPTER 6
“Basics,” Sergeant Brennan announced firmly to his class. “Basics. Why do we harp so much on the basics?” It was a rhetorical question. “Because you forget those basics, and every bit of hard work done by a score of cops and technical support personnel is down the damned drain. We’re law enforcement officers. We’re not the law. And nothing works without the law. You people have all passed your tests to get into this class. You’ve made it through your background checks, and you’re months along now. Hell, we’ve given you real bullets. In another few months, you’ll graduate, and you’ll be looking to make your careers as police officers. You’ve all come into this with different dreams, different goals. None of it will amount to crap if you ever forget the basics. First, what the hell are we here for? Jacoby, that question is for you.”
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