Body of Lies (13 page)
Roberta shook her head in a way that suggested she didn't believe Alex either. “I'm no shrink,” she said. “But it sounds to me like you still have feelings for this guy.”
That was the problem; she had too many feelings, all of them jumbled on top of one another not making any sense. She didn't tell Roberta that, though. Alex didn't bare her soul to anyone, not even the shrink she'd been required to see as part of her training. She'd already done more sharing with Roberta than she usually did. “What's your point?”
Roberta shrugged. “I have to have a point? I was just making an observation. But tell me thisâhas he said or done anything to make you think he wants to start something on a more than platonic level?”
Alex sighed. She'd accused him of that, but honestly he hadn't done anything, unless looking counted. For all she knew she'd projected onto him her own desires, since despite everything going on and everything that stood between them, she still wondered if there would have been any future for them if things hadn't turned out the way they did.
But enough was enough. She'd said all on the subject she intended to. “I thought you wanted to hear about the case.”
Roberta affected a child's pout. “Fine, spoilsport. Go ahead.”
“On one condition. You've got to tell me what you think from your professional perspective.”
Roberta scrutinized her for a long moment, perhaps picking up that for the first time in a long while Alex questioned her own judgment.
Roberta sat up and crossed her legs. “Deal. What's going on?”
Alex capsulized the events of the last twenty-four hours, leaving in the call from Thorpe's sister, but leaving out her own feelings about the girl. She ended with the supposition that at least some of the girls might have been contacted online.
“As for the sister,” Roberta said, “I can't help you with that. She's probably one fry short of a Happy Meal herself.”
“No kidding. But at least I know why he became so agitated when I pressed him for information about his childhood. Who would want to reveal that?”
“As far as that online thing goes,” Roberta continued, “I've got a friend who does work with that. They track and âout' child predators on this Web site he runs.”
Being that Alex was a cop's daughter, Alex's first question was, “Is that legal?”
“I'm not sure. I know they used to threaten to arrest him every other week until he started cooperating with the local PDs, giving them information they used to catch these guys. And his heart is in the right place. His sister was abducted by some scumbag she met online. They got her back, but she wasn't the same after that.”
Alex could imagine she wouldn't be. “How do you think he could help? I doubt whoever killed these girls announced his intentions online.”
“He monitors the chat rooms kids go to. Maybe a particular wacko will stand out to him. And think about it, he's got to be local or someone who travels to the city monthly. If he's targeting girls here, he might stick to chats based in New York or this region. Honestly, I don't know enough about it to be much help either. But if you want to talk to him, I think I can arrange it.”
Well, she'd wondered about something she could do to feel proactive. This might come to nothing, but she didn't see how it could hurt. “Sure. See what you can set up.”
Roberta checked her watch. “I'll call as soon as my next session is over. Which reminds me, I better go.”
Alex hid a yawn behind her hand. She hoped Roberta set something up early since Alex doubted she'd make it through the day without a nap.
“Is that it?”
Zach shifted in his uncomfortable chair, hoping that the early morning meeting was drawing to a close. Each of the detectives had been asked to report the results of what they were working on. A preliminary report had come back from the techs examining the car. A fingerprint not matching Thorpe's, the victim's, or the car's owners had been found in the blood on the dashboard guaranteeing that the killer had been a copycat, not the real deal. Damn. As if they needed more complications in this case. The fingerprint wasn't on file either, which also didn't help. When that news came out, Smitty had whispered to him, “It was probably the boyfriend.” Zach couldn't argue with that, but it disturbed him to think that someone this girl had known had done this to her.
A couple of the guys had been searching abandoned, incomplete, or in-progress houses in the area as a possible primary crime scene, without success. Even that chickenshit McKay claimed to have a new lead on Thorpe's whereabouts, though he hadn't elaborated on where that was or how he'd come by such a lead.
Honestly Zach didn't care, since McKay having something to do meant he'd be staying away from Zach. The girl in the hospital hadn't woken either. The doctors were keeping her in a coma hoping her brain would have a chance to rest and heal. More bothersome was the fact that no one had come forward to claim her. Given that they knew the identity of neither the victim nor her assailant, someone coming forward to identify her might be their only shot of finding out either.
That wasn't quite true either. Alex had been right about the crime scene. It was sloppy, full of evidence, including DNA that could be linked back to the doer when they came up with a suspect. Right now, the neighborhood from which the car was stolen was being canvassed to see if anyone had seen who stole the car.
A knock sounded at the door. One of the civilian aides poked her head in the door. “I hate to interrupt, but there's a Mr. Parks here. He thinks he might be Jane Doe's father.”
If Zach had been given a moment for a prediction, he'd have guessed all eyes had turned to him. This was his area of specialization, talking to the grieved or bereaved after one of their own was a victim of sexual assault. He was an expert in asking the ubiquitous litany of questions: Was there penetration? With a penis or other object? And on and on. You got used to asking them, even if the victim was a ten-year-old girl or a seventy-five-year-old granny, but they were never comfortable. Nor was it a picnic dealing with the relatives or the crazies that showed up looking for five minutes of attention, but that was the job. He stood before any one of the people staring back at him had a chance to ask if he'd handle it.
Avery Parks was a beefy man of Polish or maybe Slovakian heritage, but short on stature. He wore a windbreaker over the blue uniform of a Transit Authority worker. He held a cap in his hands that he'd twisted into an unnatural shape. He turned in Zach's direction as he approached.
Zach immediately felt sorry for this man. He wasn't one of the crazies; he was the genuine article, at least if his demeanor and the sheen of banked tears in his eyes could be believed. Even if his daughter were not the girl in question, some situation had brought him here that in all likelihood would not turn out well. Zach extended his hand toward Parks. “Mr. Parks, I'm Detective Stone. Let's go somewhere that we can talk.”
Parks nodded as he shook his hand. Zach led him to the small interrogation room. It was quiet, there was a tape recorder to capture their conversation, and if anyone else was interested in listening in they could do so without Parks's knowledge.
After getting Parks's permission to record his statement, Zach took the seat opposite the other man. “What do you want to tell me, Mr. Parks?”
“The TA they put me on nights. I told them I had a daughter to raise. Her mother died four years ago. It's just us. But they don't listen. They don't care. I didn't know anything about this girl in the hospital. Nothing, until I came home and turned on the news. I think my daughter is in school, but I see this girl has dark hair like my Nancy and I worry. I call her school and they say she's not there. I go to her room and she's not there. I'm afraid this man got her, this Amazon Killer. I went to the hospital, but the men there won't let anyone near her room. So I come here. I need to know if this is my little girl.”
Zack scrutinized Parks's face. The man was on the verge of melting down. Whatever information he wanted, he'd better get now, because whether this girl was his daughter or not, Zach doubted he'd be in any shape to talk later.
“I understand that, Mr. Parks. I have a few questions for you first. Is that all right?”
Parks nodded. “I understand.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“She'll be sixteen in August.”
“She was home alone last night?”
He nodded. “I didn't like it, but I had to work.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
Parks shook his head. “Some boy from around the neighborhood came sniffing around, but she didn't want him.”
Famous last words. He passed the paper and pen he'd been making notes on to Parks. “Can you write down his name and address?”
Parks seemed surprised. “You think he had something to do with this? I heard on the news that it was that killer.”
Since he wasn't ready to part with any information regarding their suspicions, he said, “If he was coming around your daughter, he might know something.”
That seemed to mollify Parks, who wrote a name and a Morissania address on the pad. Zach knew the area somewhat. A couple of blocks of private houses sandwiched in between bombed-out buildings and run-down tenementsâEden in the middle of chaos.
He had Parks write down his address and other contact information while he had the pad in front of him. Parks laid down the pen. “Can we go now?”
“In a minute.” Zach stood. “I'll be right back, and then I'll take you to the hospital.”
Parks nodded, keeping his head downcast.
Zach went to the adjoining room where he found the captain, McKay, and Smitty in a huddle. Zach held the pad up showing the information Parks had written. Just in case they hadn't been paying attention, he said, “We need to pick this guy up.”
Smitty copied the information onto his own pad. “I've got this one.”
The captain nodded as Smitty rose to leave. “Both of you report back whatever you get ASAP.”
“Poor bastard,” Smitty said, referring to Parks, once he and Zach were alone in the hall together.
Zach grunted his agreement with Smitty's assessment. At least he didn't gloat with any I-told-you-so's about the boyfriend angle.
Zach went back to Mr. Parks, who was in much the same position he'd been in when Zach left. “Mr. Parks?”
Parks looked up, seeming closer to tears than before. “What do I do if it's her?”
Since Zach had no answer for him, he didn't bother to formulate one. Instead, he helped the man to his feet and escorted him out of the station house into the bright spring morning.
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Zach had seen many loved ones' reactions to learning that one of their own had fallen at the hands of some predator. Some responded with sorrow and tears, others with angry accusations and threats. Still others resorted to hysteria or appeared totally bloodless and cold, in shock. Some just affected a kind of calm resolve that was probably what was truly needed.
Zach hadn't figured Parks would fit into the last group. Standing just outside the girl's room, Parks dried his eyes and tucked his cap into the pocket of his windbreaker. “Did she have a ring on when she came in? A Claddaugh ring. Her mother was Irish.”
There wasn't a ring, but there was an untanned portion of her right ring finger that suggested there had been one. “Is that your daughter, Mr. Parks?”
Parks nodded. “Can I be with her?”
“That's up to the doctors.” At this point there was no official reason why he shouldn't be. While they'd been en route, Park's story had been checked out. His whereabouts could be verified for the entirety of the previous night. The captain had called Zach with that news as they'd pulled up to the hospital.
Parks nodded, then turned doleful eyes to him. “You catch that bastard who did this to my Nancy and the other girls.”
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