Carl sighed. Please tell me we arent going to have to arrest this poor guy for defending his business against some scumbag that tried to rob him?
Alan looked at him and opened his car door. We just follow the facts, he said.
I think were going at this all wrong, Carl said. He leaned his chair back, propped one foot on Alans desktop and laced his fingers together behind his head-for a moment, until Alan gave him a look. Then he quickly shoved himself upright and leaned forward. I mean, weve been looking at it from the perspective of a homicide case.
Which, if we assume Susan Merrills memories are accurate, it is, Alan said with a half-stifled yawn. Taking her recollections as facts-which is already a stretch-we have a couple, husband and wife, probably in their mid-to-late twenties. Both shot, most likely on board a boat of some kind. Problem is, we dont know where, what kind of boat, what body of water. Could have been just about anything, anywhere.
It was late Friday evening, long past the time when a newly married man should have been home with his bride, but Alicia was enjoying a night out with her mom and sister-dinner and a chick movie, Carl had told him-so Alans conscience was clear. Alan had spent most of Thursday and Friday in court, testifying, and this was the first chance hed had to get together with his partner and brainstorm the Merrill case-if he could call it that.
He picked up his mug, drained the last mouthful of cold coffee and made a face as he set the mug back down. Truth is, I dont know where to start. Rather-I did start, with the Chicago area, which is where Merrill supposedly went to college. Where do I go from here-thats the question.
Uh-uh. Carl was shaking his head. Thats what I mean. Youve been looking at this like a homicide case. But this woman-Susan Merrill-she survived.
Her husband didnt. If what she says is true.
Yeah-if. Thats speculation. But we know for sure Susan survived something. Right? Youve gotta figure her memories are real, or we wouldnt even be talking about it. So, she gets shot-or injured in some way-didnt you say shes got a scar on the side of her head?
According to her daughter.
Okay, so, say shes shot, the bullet grazes her, she goes into the water. She remembers floating, right?
Right Alan said, frowning. He was getting a prickly sensation under his skin, because he was beginning to see what his partner was getting at. He sat up straighter.
Seems to me, Carl went on, it would have taken some kind of miracle for this woman, gunshot wound to the head, in the water-
At night, Alan interjected.
Carl nodded agreement. To have somehow survived. For one thing, that water couldnt have been too cold, or hypothermia would have finished her for sure. Which lets out the Great Lakes, and probably the North Atlantic coast, and for sure the whole Pacific coast, which is cold as a-
Which leaves the Gulf of Mexico or the Southeast coast. Alan shook his head irritably. But the snowsuit-
Forget the snowsuit. All that means is the woman lived somewhere cold when her kid was little. Doesnt mean thats where the crime took place.
Okay, Alan said. He took a breath and let it out. Okay. He was tingling all over, now. He swiveled toward his computer screen. So, somebody must have picked this woman up-fishing boat, maybe. Somebodys yacht. Point is, whoever found her, it would have been a pretty big deal
Newsworthy, Carl said, grinning. Film at eleven. He spun his chair around and pulled out his keyboard. What year did you say this was?
Two days later. Early Sunday afternoon. Alan and Carl sat hunched in front of their respective computer monitors, staring at the image on both screens.
So, Carl said, what do you think? Is it her, or not?
For a moment Alan didnt answer. The image-a small, murky, black-and-white newspaper photo of a womans face-reminded him too acutely of the digital photos of homicide victims they often snapped at the crime scene and then thrust in front of potential suspects or witnesses along with the words, Do you know this woman? The face was puffy, the eyes half-open, and a bandage obscured the left side of her head, including part of her face. It could be anybody, he thought.
I dunno, he muttered. Maybe. He switched back to the article from the Richmond Times-Dispatch, dated the fifth of September, 1969. It hadnt made the front page; Ho Chi Minh had died a few days previously, and William Calley had just been charged in the My Lai Massacre, so the woman rescued from the Chesapeake Bay by two blue crab fishermen only made page two. The photo bore the inevitable caption: Do You Know This Woman? The article alongside the photo was headlined MYSTERY WOMAN PULLED FROM BAY IN MIRACLE RESCUE.
An unidentified woman, believed to be in her late twenties or early thirties, was found barely alive and floating in the Chesapeake Bay early Wednesday afternoon, rescued by two sharp-eyed fishermen, Ed and Patrick Paulsen. The brothers from Reedville, Virginia, were heading home after a day of fishing for blue crab when they spotted the woman, who was partially tangled in some floating debris. It is believed the debris, probably washed into the Bay by last weeks heavy rains, remnants of Hurricane Camille, may have helped save the womans life.
It was just a miracle we even seen her, said Ed Paulsen. We thought first it was just a pile of reeds and driftwood and stuff. Then I seen something move.
The Paulsen brothers are being hailed as heroes today, but according to Patrick, I guess we was just in the right place at the right time.
The woman, who is suffering from a head injury as well as exposure, was taken to a hospital in Richmond where she is reported to be in serious but stable condition. Anyone with information regarding this woman is urged to contact authorities immediately.
Chapter 8
The night was especially fine. The air was soft and warm-I recall thinking it was a night for lovers. The moon hadnt yet risen-I had planned for that-and the stars were brilliant. I had lived in the city for so long I had forgotten about stars. Then, just before dawn, the fog came. It seemed like an omen. I knew the time had come.
Excerpt from the confession of Alexi K.
FBI Files, Restricted Access,
Declassified 2010
Sure sounds right, Carl said. Even to the head injury. Just wish the picture was better.
Ill contact Richmond PD, see if they can send us a better one. Alan shoved back from the computer and swiveled to face his partner. Then Ill have to see if Lindsey can ID the woman-her memories of her mother go back a lot further than mine do. But even if this is Susan Merrill, all it tells us is how she survived. Doesnt tell us how she got into the Chesapeake, or whether the man calling himself Richard Merrill had anything to do with putting her there.
Carl didnt reply. He was staring at his computer screen, eyes squinted in concentration. Alan knew that look. What are you thinking? he asked.
After another two beats of silence, Carl flicked him a glance along one shoulder. What am I thinking? Looking at the mapseems to me the Chesapeake is right handy to a whole lot of the northeast, including some major population centers. Like BaltimoreD.C.- he tapped the screen -your old stomping grounds-Philadelphia, right? Some of these might even be snowsuit territory, you know?
Alan heaved a sigh. Yeah, I guess it does narrow the search area. Should make it a little easier. Maybe.
Itd make it even easier if we had help. Carls eyes glittered, giving him a crafty look.
What are you suggesting? Alan asked, warily this time.
Carl spun around and held up a hand. Look, I know what youre going to say, but hear me out, okay? I know you and your old man-
Stop right there.
No-wait a minute. Like I said-hear me out. I know you and your dad dont see eye to eye-
Dont see eye to eye? Hows about, we havent spoken in twenty years.
-and that you blame him for your moms suicide-
Alan grunted, but didnt voice the thought that popped into his mind: Better than blaming myself. That was the trouble with long, boring stakeouts with his partner, he thought. Entirely too much opportunity for soul-baring conversation.
-and I get that you dont want to call on the man now when you need help. But he was on the job back then when this happened, and hes got buddies-fellow cops-who were, too. Theyd all be retired now, obviously, but the ones thatre still alive, Ill bet you anything they stay in touch. Housewives and back fences got nothing on retired cops when it comes to spreading gossip and inside information. This was an unsolved case, and Ill bet you anything theres at least one retired cop out there who still remembers it. Probably wakes him up at night every now and then, gnawing at him, because maybe its the one case he couldnt close. Carl paused, and Alan gazed back at him and didnt comment, because half-forgotten names and faces were scrolling through his mind. After a moment, Carl gave him a little smile and said, And Ill bet youve got somebody in mind, right now. Am I right?
Walter Buck Busczkowski. His dads old partner and Alans unofficial godfather, the closest thing hed had, back then, to a functioning parent. A tough ex-marine and Vietnam vet, whod showed him the escape route from the dead-end road his own life had seemed to be taking
Alan snorted and reached for his phone. Then put it back and picked up the computer mouse instead. Twenty years was too long to trust his memory of the return address from an old Christmas card.
The call blindsided him. It came on Tuesday morning, through the department switchboard. Hed given Buck Busczkowski his private cell number, so when he picked up and answered with his standard, Cameron, Homicide, the last thing he expected to hear coming back at him was the ruined bullfrog croak even twenty years worth of booze and cigarettes hadnt changed all that much. Hello, son.
Cold shot through him. His scalp prickled. Something-an unrecognizable sound-came out of his mouth, so he cleared his throat and tried again. This time managed to produce a flat, Dad.
His fathers chuckle sounded more nervous than amused. I know, Im the last person you probably expected to hear from.
Thats about right, Alan drawled, and heard an exhalation on the other end of the line.
Yeah, wellBucky called me, you know. Did you think he wouldnt? Alan didnt reply, and after a moment came another exhalation. Im just sorry you didnt feel like you could come to me, is all. Anyhow, Ive got a name for you. If you want it. Considering where it came from.