And where the hell was Lexi?
The questions swirled inside Fionas brain, and she rubbed her temples, trying to shut them out so that she could concentrate on her work. She poured herself another drink and scribbled:
Think of three women in your own life. Your mother, your daughter, your sister...
As she stared at what shed written, Lori Guests words suddenly came back to her.
They have that twin thing, Fiona. Where one goes, the other goes. When one is upset, the other is upset. If one gets hurt, well, you get the idea. Theyre so attuned to one another, its almost scary.
Had Lexi sensed that Alicia was in trouble? Had she felt her sisters terror?
Did she know the exact moment when the bullet had pierced her sisters skull?
Or was Lexi...beyond knowing?
Why did you call me, Alicia? Fiona wondered aloud. And why in Gods name didnt I call you back?
Dont dwell on it. Nothing could be done about it now. Recriminations could come later, but for now, the only productive thing Fiona could do was concentrate on her work.
She glanced back down at her notes, tried to pull her thoughts together once again, but her mind kept rambling and the words on the page blurred. Her eyes suddenly burned with exhaustion, and Fiona thought that if she could just rest them for a moment, shed be good to go.
But the moment she closed her eyes, she drifted off and the image of Alicias pale, still features materialized in her dream. Mist swirled around the body as Fiona stared down at her, and somewhere in the darkness behind her, a tape played over and over. Fiona? This is Alicia Mercer. Please call me when you get this message. I really need to talk to you.
And then suddenly the tape stopped. The fog faded, and Fiona was standing on a lonely road in the harsh glare of headlights as she stared down at David Mackenzies lifeless body. Someone said in horror, Hes dead, Fiona. My God, you killed him.
She came awake with a start, the ringing of the telephone as jarring in the early morning hours as a scream. Glancing around, Fiona tried to orient herself, and when the sound persisted, she finally got up to answer it. Finding herself not quite steady on her feet, she put a hand on the table for balance.
Carefully she walked across the room to the sofa where shed tossed the cordless phone earlier. Halfway there, she realized it wasnt the phone ringing, but the doorbell.
She adjusted course and moved very deliberately to the door to glance through the peephole. Detective Doggett stood on the other side. She undid the dead bolts and drew back the door to let him in.
He walked inside and glanced back at all the locks. How many of those things you got on there?
Not enough. Fiona pulled fingers through her messy hair as she closed the door, then turning, she caught her breath when she found him standing right behind her. His eyes...those laser blue eyes...were staring at her intently. And he was frowning. Fiona had the vague notion that he was scowling at her in disapproval.
Not a comfortable revelation for any woman.
Sorry to drop by like this, he said. But I told you Id be in touch as soon as I heard something.
Fiona had made sure he had her home phone number before they left the crime scene, expecting that he would simply call when he had news. But here he was, alive and in person, and she realized that he must have looked up her address in the cross directory. She wondered if she should be annoyed at his presumption. Maybe when she was thinking a little more clearly she would be.
She felt dizzy, all of a sudden, and put a hand to her forehead.
Hey, you okay? Doggett asked her.
Im fine. But her words sounded slurred even to her.
Maybe wed better sit down. You dont look too steady on your feet.
No, I told you Im fine But Fiona was horrified to feel herself sway. She put out a hand to stop the room from spinning, but there was nothing to grab hold of. I think Im going to
The next thing she knew, she was lying on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Doggett was standing over her. Still scowling. Still disapproving.
Im all right, she muttered. I just felt a little woozy. So woozy, in fact, she couldnt quite remember having gotten from the door to the sofa.
You fainted, Doggett said. Or maybe I should say, you passed out.
Disgust in his voice. Not a good sign. Fiona gritted her teeth and sat up. I couldnt have. I didnt have that much to drink.
You had enough to knock you on your butt. Is that the norm for you? You come home from a crime scene at four oclock in the morning and start drinking? His expression was so grim that Fiona thought if hed had a rolled up newspaper, he probably would have bopped her on the nose with it. She had the sudden urge to tuck her tail between her legs and slink off to the nearest corner.
I didnt get home until four-thirty, she said coolly as if that made any kind of difference whatsoever. Humiliation always made her irreverent...irrelevant...shit. And if I want to have a drink in the privacy of my own home, I dont see how thats your business.
Ill tell you how its my business. Youre the prosecutor assigned to my case. I dont want a bad guy slipping through the cracks because you werent up to the job.
You dont have to worry about me, Fiona assured him, wishing she didnt feel as if she might throw up at any moment. Barfing on Doggetts shoes would definitely undermine her credibility. I know how to do my job. You just make sure the bad guy doesnt slip through the cracks because you or some other detective in your division decides to ride roughshod over his rights.
So were back to that again, are we? Lets get one thing straight. Im not Frank Quinlan.
Well, on that, they were in perfect agreement.
As Doggett turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen, Fiona leaned forward slightly, watching him exit the room. He had a nice butt, and the fact that she noticed told her that she must, indeed, be just a tiny bit hammered. After a moment, she heard him fiddle with the coffee-maker as he tried to figure out the controls.
Make yourself at home, she grumbled, wondering if she had enough strength to make it to the bathroom, wash her face, and then crawl back before Doggett ever missed her. She decided she didnt, and let her head fall back against the sofa instead.
When Doggett returned, he set a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of her. Drink it. Lets get you sobered up so we can talk.
Im not drunk. And, for Gods sake, do you have to hover over me like that? Youre not my mother.
His lips thinned in displeasure. No. But youre reminding me a little too much of mine just now.
Oh, God, she really was going to be sick. Whats that supposed to mean?
He glared down at her, then shrugged. Just drink the coffee.
When you stop hovering.
He walked over and sank down in a chair opposite the sofa. Better?
She picked up the cup and sipped. The coffee was hot, bitter and strong. Just the way she liked it. The caffeine went straight to her head, and Fiona sat back against the sofa, cradling the cup between her hands.
When you stop hovering.
He walked over and sank down in a chair opposite the sofa. Better?
She picked up the cup and sipped. The coffee was hot, bitter and strong. Just the way she liked it. The caffeine went straight to her head, and Fiona sat back against the sofa, cradling the cup between her hands.
After a moment, she glanced at Doggett. Okay. Tell me why youre here. Did you find Lexi?
Something flickered in his eyes, a shadow that sent a shiver of dread up Fionas spine. No, not yet. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. But I did manage to track down their roommate through a neighbor. Her name is Kelly Everhardt. She drove up to Wheeler on Sunday morning to visit her parents for a couple of days. Shes coming back sometime this morning.
Does she know where Lexi is?
Doggett paused. She hasnt seen Lexi for nearly a week.
A chill shot through Fionas heart. Wheres she been?
No one seems to know. The roommate says she didnt come home last Thursday night, and she hasnt been seen since.
Has a missing persons report been filed?
He shook his head. The roommate said Alicia didnt want to get the police involved.
Why not?
Because she didnt want their parents to find out. According to the roommate, Lexi has a habit of disappearing. Seems she got involved with a married man last semester, and the two of them used to sneak off for days at a time without telling anyone because he insisted they keep the affair a secret. The roommate says Lexi broke off the relationship before Christmas, but when she didnt come home this time, Alicia was afraid shed gone off with him again. The roommate said Alicia thought she could find her on her own, talk some sense into her, and the parents would never have to know.
Fiona leaned forward and carefully placed the cup on the table. The sudden infusion of caffeine had given her a bad case of the shakes. Did their roommate say who this married man was?
She didnt know. She said Alicia didnt know for sure, either, but she told the roommate she had her suspicions.
Do you think this guy could have had something to do with Alicias death? Maybe he was afraid she knew about him and Lexi.
Doggett shrugged. Its possible. Right now its the only lead weve got. Hopefully well know more after the autopsy.
Did you call Lori? Fiona asked anxiously.
I spoke with her a little while ago.
How did she take it? Is she...okay? A stupid question. Lori Guest had just learned that one daughter had been murdered and the other one was missing. Of course, she wasnt okay. Shed probably never be okay again.
Oh, God...
Shes flying into OHare sometime later this morning, Doggett said.
Did you talk to her husband?
No, just Mrs. Guest.
Fiona rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. Ive been asking myself over and over why Alicia called me last week, and now I think I know. She wanted me to help her find Lexi. When I didnt call her back, she went searching for her sister on her own. And now shes dead.
Youre not blaming yourself for that, are you? Doggetts blue eyes pierced through Fionas armor with hardly any resistance, and she found herself wondering, unaccountably and inappropriately, if there was a woman in his life.
I know Alicias death wasnt my fault, she said with a frown. But Ill always wonder what might have happened if I had called her back. Maybe I could have helped her, and maybe shed still be alive.
And maybe, Doggett said in that deep, rumbling voice of his. Youd be lying in the morgue with her right now.
CHAPTER SIX
MEREDITH SWEENEY, the assistant ME, had Alicia Mercers X-rays waiting for Doggett a few hours later when he arrived at the Chicago Technical Park where the morgue was located.
He studied the skull X-rays. Was I right about the bullet hole? A .45 caliber slug, right?
Meredith shook her dark head. No, but thats what I thought, too, at first, so dont feel bad. When I calibrated the hole, though, I found it somewhat smaller than .5 inches. The wound is more consistent with a .40 caliber or 10 mm bullet.
Doggett glanced at her. You sure about that?
She shrugged. You can measure it for yourself if you want.
Ill take your word for it. The information didnt necessarily mean anything, but on the other hand, Doggett found it interesting. In recent years, .40 caliber weapons had come into wide use by law enforcement agencies all over the country, including the Chicago PD. Doggetts own service weapon was a Glock 27, a piece favored by a lot of undercover cops.
I wouldnt get my hopes up for any kind of ballistics match, Meredith told him. She pointed to the left side of the victims skull, in the area behind the eye socket where metallic density showed as white flecks on the X-ray.
A lead snowstorm, Doggett muttered.
Exactly. You can actually see where the bullet disintegrated as it traveled through the body, which means it must have been partially jacketed. She moved to another X-ray and indicated an anomalous object in the pelvis area. I suspect this is where well find the bullet, whats left of it.
Doggett nodded. What about the bruises around her wrists?
Looks like he used a nylon cord, the kind you can buy in any hardware store.
And the mark on her shoulder?
Weve sent a sample of the ink to the lab, but you can get stamp pads in any discount or office supply store, and those temporary tattoos are sold out of vending machines.
Its the symbol thats bugging me, Doggett said. Why a trident?
At least its not a swastika, Meredith said dryly. Or a pentagram. God knows we see our share of those. She gave Doggett a moment longer to study the X-rays. Are you staying for the autopsy?
Yeah. It wasnt just a matter of duty, but a matter of conscience. His way of paying respect to the victim. Doggett never walked out on an autopsy, no matter how gruesome.
Meredith nodded briskly. Lets get started then, shall we?
Doggett followed her into the autopsy room where Alicia Mercers nude body waited for them on a cold, stainless-steel table.
* * *
THE AIR-CONDITIONING in the courtroom was operating in hyperdrive, and Fiona shivered as she glanced around the packed benches, picking out faces in the crowd that she recognized. She was seated at the prosecution table with Milo, who was busy going over his notes. Fiona knew that she should do the same, but her gaze kept straying back to the visitors block where a dozen or more cops from Area Three, both in uniforms and plainclothes, had turned out in a show of support for Vince DeMarco.
Fiona came from a long line of cops. The Gallaghers were almost legendary in the police department. Her grandfather, her father, her three brothers...all Chicago PD. So she knew cops. She knew how they walked, how they talked, how they thought. But the one thing shed never been able to understand about them, no matter their rank, was the blind loyalty to the brotherhood.
Most of the police officers she knew were good, decent, hardworking guys who would never, in a million years, condone rape. They recognized the crime for what it wasan act of violence. In most cops estimation, a rapist ranked just slightly above a child molester, and yet here a dozen or so of Chicagos finestthose good, decent, hardworking mensat lending moral support to a creep like DeMarco. And all because he was a fellow police officer.