For a moment, Officer Maria Caruso looked nervous.
'Is something wrong?' Jessica asked.
'No, ma'am. It's just that I heard you and Detective Byrne were investigating the Caitlin O'Riordan case.'
'We are,' Jessica said. 'Do you recall the case?'
'Quite well, ma'am. I remember when she was found.'
Jessica just nodded.
'I have family in Lancaster County,' Officer Caruso added. 'Caitlin's family lives about forty miles from my aunt and cousins. I remember the picture that was in the paper. I remember the case like yesterday.'
Caitlin, Jessica thought. This young officer called the victim by her first name. She wondered just how personal this case was to her.
Jessica took out the photograph of Caitlin O'Riordan, the one Caitlin's family had supplied to the FBI. Over her shoulder was a faded lilac knapsack with pink appliqued butterflies. 'This is the picture you remember?' she asked.
'Yes, ma'am.' Officer Caruso turned toward the window for a moment, covering her emotions. Jessica understood. Philly tough.
'Mind if I ask where you're from?' Jessica asked.
'Tenth and Morris.'
Jessica nodded. People in Philadelphia were either from neighborhoods or intersections. Mostly both. 'South Philly girl.'
'Oh, yeah. Born and bred.'
'I grew up at Sixth and Catharine.'
'I know.' Officer Caruso adjusted her belt, cleared her throat. She seemed a little embarrassed. 'I mean, y'know, I heard that.'
'Did you go to Goretti?'
'Oh, yeah,' she said. 'I was a Goretti Gorilla.'
Jessica smiled. They had a lot in common. 'If you need anything, let me know.'
The young woman beamed. She tucked that loose strand of dark hair back into her cap. 'Thank you, Detective.'
With an energy known only to the young, Officer Maria Caruso turned on her heels, and walked back up the steps.
Jessica watched her, wondering if this life was a good choice or a bad choice for the young woman. Didn't matter really, there was probably no way Maria Caruso could be talked out of it. Once you started catching criminals, Jessica knew, there was little else you were good for.
Byrne walked through the front door into the hallway. After returning from the Roundhouse he had conducted a brief neighborhood survey.
'Anything?' Jessica asked.
Byrne shook his head. 'Incredibly, no one on this block has ever seen or heard of a crime being committed at this or any other location.'
'And yet there's a memorial to a dead little girl right next door.'
'And yet.'
'Any hits with missing persons?'
'Nothing so far,' Byrne said.
Jessica crossed the kitchen to the other side of the counter. She tapped her fingernails on the worn Formica, just for effect. She was turning into such a drama queen of late, taking her cues from her six- year-old daughter. Jessica had stopped chewing her nails a year or so earlier-a bad habit she'd maintained since her childhood-and only recently started to get them done at a Northeast salon called Hands of Time. Her nails were short, they had to be for her job, but they looked good. For once. This month they were amethyst. How girly-girl can you get? Sophie Balzano approved. Kevin Byrne hadn't yet said a word.
A uniformed officer stepped into the row house. 'Detective Byrne?'
'Yeah.'
'Fax came in for you.' He handed Byrne an envelope.
'Thanks.' Byrne opened it and pulled out a single sheet fax, read it.
'What's up?' Jessica asked.
'Ready for your day to get a little bit better?'
Jessica's eyes lit up like a toddler hearing a Jack and Jill ice cream truck coming down the street. 'We're going swimming?'
'Not that much better,' Byrne said. 'But a slight improvement.'
'I'm ready.'
'I called Paul DiCarlo and asked if he could put someone at the DA's office on tracking down the ownership of this property.'
'What did they find?'
'Nothing. Nobody's paid taxes on the place in years.'
'And this is good news why?'
'I'm getting there. Paul reached out to a guy at L amp; I, and the guy said that once a month, for the last five months, he's gotten an anonymous call about this address. He said the same caller went on and on about how the building should be torn down.'
The Philadelphia Department of Licenses and Inspections was responsible for the enforcement of the city's building code. It was also empowered to demolish vacant buildings that posed a threat to public safety.
'Do we have any information on the caller?' Jessica asked.
Byrne handed her the fax. 'We do. The guy at L amp; I had caller ID. After the fifth call he wrote the number down.'
Jessica read it. The phone number was registered to a Laura A. Somerville. The address was on Locust Street. From the street number it looked to be in West Philadelphia.
Jessica glanced up the stairs, at the CSU officers who were beginning the slow, arduous task of sifting through what had to be years of trash. She wondered what might be up there, what crimes might be concealed, asking for closure.
She'd be back. Somehow, she was sure of it.
The two detectives signed off the crime-scene log, and headed to West Philly.
SEVEN
TWO MONTHS EARLIER
Eve ordered a cheeseburger and fries at the Midtown IV Restaurant, a 24-hour place on Chestnut, catching glances and lewd looks from the night boys. The air in the room was a mixture of summer sweat, coffee, frying onions. Eve glanced at her watch. It was 2:20. The place was packed. She spun on her stool, considered the crowd. A young couple, early twenties, sat on the same side of a nearby booth. In your twenties you sat on the same side, Eve thought. In your thirties, you sat on opposite sides, but still talked. In your forties and beyond, you brought a newspaper.
At 2:40 a shadow appeared to her right. Eve turned. The girl was about fifteen, still carrying a layer of baby fat. She had an angelic face, street-hardened eyes. She wore faded jeans, a faux-leather jacket with a fake fur collar, and bright white New Balance sneakers, about an hour out of the box.
'Hey,' Eve said.
The girl scrutinized her. 'Hey.'
'Are you Cassandra?'
The girl glanced around. She racked her shoulders, sniffled. 'Yeah.'
