Chapter 18

The move to the new task force headquarters was done with the least amount of fuss possible. No cop cars would be allowed in the parking lot. No one was to know where they were located. Every precaution was to be used to keep this location a secret from the public and the news people. The newsies were getting too brazen and brave as it was.

The warehouse was huge inside, with two offices on a second floor. There were two rooms on the first floor, a main warehouse as you walked into the front doors, and a smaller room behind it that Michelle's mother had always used for erecting bigger floral arrangements. They decided to use the back room.

Of course, no job could be done with out people bitching. Chip Drydeski walked around all day with a handkerchief pressed to his nose, complaining about the dust and what it was doing to his allergies. Jimmy Benitti griped about the lousy office furniture that had been found. And everyone complained about the heat.

Scott Greashaber had come through for them big time, he had brought in four computers, fairly new and in good shape and someone from the computer department at MSU Flint to help set them up and to start inputting what little data they already had.

Nick was on the phone. It had started ringing the minute he'd plugged it in and hadn't stopped since. They were going to have to see about getting some volunteers in to answer phones, to go through the many tips that were coming in. There had been donations of money to be used for rewards. A press conference was being scheduled.

But this was the political part of the investigation. It was the part that the Sheriff should handle. His part was finding an animal and putting him out of people's misery.

"Nick," Michelle called across the room. He looked up and she held up the phone. "It's the lab. They got something for you."

Nick hung up with the lady he had been talking to, the lady who swore that her next door neighbor was taking the girls and keeping them in flying saucers he kept in his shed. Maybe he should have Jimmy handle her. Maybe that would keep him busy and keep his hands off of Michelle for a while.

"This is Saint," he said into the phone.

"Yeah, Nick. Your a hard guy to find." It was the coroner, Bones. "I got some of those blood tests back. I thought you might find this interesting."

Nick waited and then knew he was going to have to ask since the man didn't continue. "Well?"

"Your girl, the third victim? She was pregnant."

"Pregnant? Whoa. How long?" Nick saw heads come up and ears tune into his conversation.

"Roughly three weeks I would say." He paused and then continued. "With the condition the body was in, I would estimate that she had been held for longer than that amount of time. I'd say it's a good bet that your killer would be the father."

Nick's mind raced. A DNA profile could be gotten from the baby, half the markers would be the same as those from the father. It would be a start in nailing the bastard.

"Doc, you just made me a happy camper. Can you get a DNA sample from the fetus?"

"It's on its way to the lab as we speak, Nick."

He thanked the good doctor and hung up the phone.

Then he addressed the troops.

"Victim number three was pregnant."

The silence was deafening. Then everyone spoke at once. He put up his hands for silence which was slow in coming.

"The doc says she was about three weeks along. The condition of the body makes us believe she was held for a longer period of time than that. It's a good bet that our killer was the daddy."

"DNA." Jimmy said.

"Yeah, maybe we'll finally get lucky."

Stephanie spoke up. "With only half the markers for the father, getting a hit on any of the data bases could be difficult."

"Better a slim chance than no chance," Brandon said, hauling up a load of fliers. "I'm gonna go and find some kids who want to earn a few buck, have them hand these out up town."

The fliers were Stephanie's idea. Get the victims' pictures out and see if anyone would hit on an ID. He had a box that was full of them and enough out of petty cash to hire a couple of kids to run them around town.

Nick had hung up the phone and was standing in front of the big murder board covered with crime scene photos. He was looking at the third victim, his fingers pressed to his temple.

Michelle walked over, stood by him.

"So," she said.

He smiled. "So what?" he answered.

"So what has you looking like you just can't get a handle on it?" she asked, looking at the same pictures that he was.

"Look at the abuse this girl took, look at her ribs, her arms and legs. There was no meat left on her. She was starved and beaten." His finger traced the border of one picture. "How in the hell did she manage to conceive a child much less keep one? Why did he keep her so long?" He looked down into Michelle's face, saw the sadness there. "You okay?"

Michelle wished they were alone, that she could slip into his arms and let him hold her. It was so unbelievably sad that animals such as this killer managed to get away with the things that they did. "Yeah," she said. "I'm just great. I've been thinking though. We need to put out a broadcast, warn blondes with shoulder length hair about being approached by strangers."

"Yeah, I already mentioned it to the Sheriff, he's putting it in his speech for the press conference." He glanced down at his watch. "Damn, I've got to get over there, I have to stop and pick up the fed first." He started looking around for his briefcase and his car keys.

Michelle picked them both up and held them out to him.

"What would I ever do without you, hotshot?" he joked. His heart knocked against his ribs as he realized it was the truth. He would be lost without her...

He spoke to the group gathered around him. "The press conference is going to be held in front of the old courthouse. I want you all in the crowd, watching faces. Keep an eye out for anything even the slightest strange. Chip," he looked around the room until he found the older guy. "You got your camera, right? I want video of the crowd, all of it. Anybody ducking out of the picture, hiding his face in anyway, we need to get an ID on."

Carter spoke up. "What are we looking for Nick? I mean, I could pull over half the kids in town because they look suspicious for something."

"Yeah, Carter, but that would mean you'd have to actually do some work," Stephanie ducked as Carter threw his empty soda cup at her. She picked it and threw it back, missing him but hitting Jimmy Benitti in the shoulder.

He glared at her, even though she apologized, and left the room.

"Wow, what's up his butt?"

"Must have missed his lunch the past couple of days," Chip said amid snickers. Jimmy's lunch time practices were well known with everyone but the brass.

"All right, everyone," Nick said, playing the role model. "Let's get back to it." When everyone had settled back down, he continued. "To answer your question, Carter, we are probably looking for someone in their mid to late thirties, well dressed, decent looking."

"Well that leaves you out, Chip," Brandon said. "We can take you off of the ten most wanted in the county now."

"Ha ha, funny guy." Chip flipped him off.

Nick growled at them, getting their attention. "Make sure your attentive out there, these creeps like the fame that comes with their kills. They keep scrap books and mementos on each of their victims so they can dream and remember what each had felt like. Our guy is going to look like anyone, could be absolutely anyone. I want you checking out anything that feels even the least strange to you. Got it?"

He looked around the room, sighing. "All right, let's get with it."

They left the building en force, heading off in their perspective personal vehicles to the court house. Michelle elbowed Nick as he stood watching Stephanie climb on her Harley.

"Now that I never would have guessed," she said, fighting a little green eyed monster at the admiration in his eyes for the way the tiny brunette handled the big machine.

"What's that?" his eyes followed Chelle as she sauntered around his Mustang and stood by the passenger door.

"You going in for the biker mama image." She leaned against the door, her arms crossed on the roof.

"Well, you have to admit it does go against the laws of nature and physics for someone that size to handle that big bike the way she does." He turned to watch Stephanie take the bike around the corner and into the busy afternoon traffic. "It's just amazing. Ouch!"

He rubbed his head and looked down at the quarter she had thrown at him. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," she steamed. "Let's hurry up and get this press meeting over with. I need a car of my own. I'm tired of taking my life in my hands by riding with you all the time." She opened her door and sat in the car, buckling the belt, crossing her arms and angling her head away from his side of the car. If he thought she was going to stand around and listen to him go on about other women, he was going to have to think again. She might not want him, but she didn't want to hear about who did.

Who was she trying to fool, she did want him. And telling herself she didn't wasn't going to change that fact.

He got into the car and started it, pulling out on the street.

"We have to pick up the fed," he grumbled under his breath. And his day got considerably worse when he saw the smile on her face.

"Great, does he know we're coming or should I run up to his room and get him?" she asked sweetly, the smile saying she was ready to pitch in and do her part for the home team no matter how difficult.

He swerved into the hotel parking lot, stood on the brakes and parked the car illegally. "I'll go in and get him," he growled at her and slammed out of the car.

She was humming, sitting quite contentedly in the back seat of the vehicle when he came back, FBI agent in tow.

"Good afternoon, Agent Knight," she purred at him when he got in the car.

"Good afternoon, right back at you, Deputy Parsons. You look lovely this afternoon." Roger was amused, especially by the black looks being heaped his way by the surly detective.

"Are you two through or do you want to stop and order afternoon tea?" he snapped.

Nick tore out of the parking lot and took off the few miles to the back lot of the old courthouse. They were meeting inside to go over details.

The entire task force was there, including the city attorney and his retinue. The Sheriff was standing over to the side, practicing his speech, his voice low pitched and hushed. The old courthouse had that affect on people. Outside, a white brick building, three stories including a huge polished brass domed roof that could be seen for miles. Inside was old wood, history imprinted into the grain. It was no longer in use, except for it's grounds. Musicians came every weekend to put on free concerts for the people who would come and sit on the satiny green lawns to listen.

Today, the front steps were going to be used for the press conference. Already, the newsies were lining up, jockeying for the best position for their cameras. Microphones had been set up and were being double checked, and a crowd of citizens were huddling just outside of the press.

Nick deployed his team out into the crowd to scan faces, search for anything that might seem even the least unusual. A madman armed with an eight inch knife would be a nice start, he thought. He watched as Michelle's blonde head disappeared into the crowd and wished he could have kept her with him. If their guy was only attacking blondes, she might be a heady catch. What would be a bigger thrill than capturing a county deputy? What lunatic would resist taking her right off the courthouse steps and disappearing with her. Damn, why hadn't he insisted. He felt a hand on his arm.

"She'll be okay."

He pretended not to know what the fed was talking about. "Who?"

Roger laughed. "You two are a pair, stubborn as hell, both of you." He shook his head. "Michelle will be okay. She's tough. She'd have to be to be in love with you."

"You don't know what you are talking about. She doesn't love me, she can't stand to be in the same car as me." He mentally shook himself. "Besides, I'm not worried about her. She's a cop, same as me. We know the risks."

"Okay," he didn't bother to argue. Pig headedness was known to be a strongly running trait in most good cops. "I went through some more of that file. I think your profile is pretty much dead on. I think, though, that our guy is married and he isn't happy in his marriage. I think that is why he is picking blondes. They remind him of his wife."

"He got the last one pregnant before he killed her."

"No," Roger said in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

"She was three weeks along," Nick said. "We got the lab reports this afternoon, not even the Sheriff knows yet."

"And you think it belonged to the killer?"

"Yeah, I know. Pretty fucking unbelievable." Nick's voice was heavy with sadness and tight with anger. "You saw those pictures, you wouldn't believe the amount of damage he did to her in the time he had her. I couldn't believe she would have conceived much less not miscarried during some of those beating she took. He literally ripped her apart inside."