Bleeding Out

the Jane Doe he did. Plant her around Nichols' walk to school.'

'It's not in our jurisdiction.'

'I know—we'd have to get cooperation from Culver City or cut them in on it.'

Frank shook her head.

'No way. We're already brass heavy and soldier light,' Frank said, in reference to the endless memos, meetings, and conferences that had been generated by involving Culver City in the investigation.

'Besides,' she added, 'it's just too big an area. We have no way of knowing if he'd see us.'

'Well, what are our options right now, Frank? Sit around and wait for another Cassandra Nichols to turn up with a tree branch stuck up her ass?'

Noah tossed his boss a challenging look.

'If you're right, we've got a fistful of rapes, four dead girls, and not one solid lead to follow.'

'I know what we have.'

'Everything's petering out. The captains are all over us to close it so they can have their cops back, none of the cops want to be here, the chief's on Fubar's ass. I guess the only good thing is that it just isn't big enough for RHD yet. But at this rate that'll only be a matter of time. So what do we have to lose except the case and more girls?'

Continuing her perpetual street scan, Frank answered sarcastically, 'Oh yeah. Fubar'll love it when I request additional manpower for a stake-out. And where exactly do we find a fifteen-year-old undercover cop?'

'I've been thinking about that. I got some ideas,' Noah answered enthusiastically.

Frank was silently stroking her ring finger where she used to wear a thin gold band. She hadn't worn the ring for years but she still reached for it when she was mulling something over. Noah pressed his tiny advantage.

'I think I might have the perfect girl...woman,' he corrected. 'She's in Narcs at Parker Center. I met her a few weeks ago. I don't know how old she is, but I was really surprised when she told me she was a detective. She looks very young. Whaddaya say I talk to her, see if she'd work?'

Frank rubbed thoughtfully at the empty spot on her finger. It was a long shot, but at this point it might be their only one. She nodded, not breaking her stare out the window.

'You talk to your narc and I'll feel the Fubbie out. He won't want to share this anymore than I do, and I doubt CC will either.'

'Atta girl, Frank, atta girl,' Noah congratulated, punching his boss lightly on the shoulder.

'Are we any closer to finding out who he is?'

Foubarelle was hoping Frank wanted to see him because she had big news.

'Not really. Based on the way he's hit these girls and the way he's dumped them I feel pretty confident narrowing him down to a section of Culver City, but so far we haven't generated anything specific on this guy's ID.'

'So technically this is Culver City's problem, but because Agoura and Peterson were dumped in our jurisdiction we're stuck with it.'

Foubarelle grimaced, and Frank suspected he was weighing the merits of hanging on to this case or trying to dump it into the lap of the Culver City police. Foubarelle was a political weasel. If he thought this case was going to make his office look bad, he'd hand it over in a heartbeat. On the other hand, solving four homicides and nine rapes in one swoop would be an impressive coup. She figured this was a good time to hit him with their latest plan.

'Speaking of Culver City...we've been playing with the idea of setting up a decoy and doing surveillance for this guy. Take a look at this.'

Noah had made a computer chart showing where their perp had committed his assaults, where he'd abducted girls from, and where he'd dumped them. Frank explained the plan, and the captain frowned.

'Now you're definitely out of your jurisdiction.'

Frank nodded, deftly conceding a sense of control.

'If you wanted to run with this, we'd have to work with CCPD, get them on our side. It only benefits them in the long run—clears two homicides and a score of rapes for them, and they wouldn't even have to lift a finger. Good deal.'

'But we still get credit for it,' Foubarelle said absently.

'You still get credit for clearing two murders and a rape, not to mention bagging the Culver City Slayer.'

The papers had taken to calling him that and it pissed everybody off. CCPD had to answer a lot of ugly questions and intensify their investigations, which basically meant assisting the LAPD carte blanche. This infuriated McNaughton, the CCPD chief. His mayor had ordered him to work with LAPD because the chief had hinted at nasty repercussions if CCPD didn't cooperate. To his own force, McNaughton had done more than hint. He didn't like that the media was having a field day at his expense and he'd made it very clear to his minions that the Culver City Slayer shit had to stop.

'What if it doesn't work?'

Frank shrugged.

'If the stake doesn't work, at least you can say you've taken a proactive stance and aren't just sitting around with your thumb up your ass.'

'You know this is costing a fortune.'

'I know, but does the chief want to wait until the guy comes knocking on our door, or does he want us to do everything we can before he kills another twelve-year old. God forbid a very well-connected twelve-year old.'

Foubarelle reluctantly agreed to the stake. Frank dipped her head in assent, reminding him they'd have to borrow the decoy from another district. Foubarelle agreed to that, too, and Frank left the office having convinced her boss to enact a plan she barely believed in herself.

His father hadn't talked to him since he'd blown it during the championship game. His chances for a scholarship had slipped away with that intercepted pass and now the old man completely ignored him. The boy thought even the pain from the old days was better than this. He had to find a way to make things right again.

15

The guts of three case reports were spilled across Jill's desk. She and Bobby were looking at similarities between an old shooting of Gough's on 87th, the Mackay case, and a shooting Jill had picked up on 51st. Frank poured a cup of black coffee that smelled like burnt rubber and perched on Jill's desk, poking through the evidence with them.

All three looked up at the blonde girl Noah walked in with. Frank thought she must be a witness and glanced back down at the murder books, but Noah stepped up to her, waiting expectantly.

'What's up?' she asked.

'Detective Kennedy, meet Lieutenant Franco.'

Frank was nonplused. Kennedy extended her hand, drawling, 'How ya doin?' around a mouthful of gum.

Frank thought Noah was joking. The young woman before her looked more like a Malibu party girl: shaggy, sun-streaked blonde hair around vibrant brown eyes; tanned and toned arms dangling out of a sleeveless T-shirt with a purple sports bra underneath; baggy, purple harem pants ending in Teva-clad feet. Frank didn't see a detective anywhere in the get-up. Cracking and popping her gum, the woman smiled placidly between Noah and Frank, the latter staring quizzically at her detective.

'She's interested in being our decoy,' he explained with his usual boyish enthusiasm.

Frank snorted a dismissive laughing sound, sure now that he was kidding. When he didn't laugh back she became apprehensive.

'I need to see you in my office.'

He followed her in and she told him to close the door.

'What the hell's that all about?'

'What's what all about?'

'The girl. She barely looks old enough to cut her own food.'

Noah laughed.

'Exactly. She'll be a perfect decoy.'

Frank adamantly shook her head, 'No way.'

'Why not?'

'She's a baby, No. I'm not putting her out there. She'd blow it and get somebody