“Back up a few steps. You think our bad guys put Noah on that reefer on purpose?”
“I’m just saying, it feels odd.”
Bandoni folded his arms. “How would our killers even know that the train was going to stop where it did? And that there would be ColdShip cars?”
“All they’d need is a railroad scanner. They could listen in on whatever the maintenance crews were discussing. With some effort, they could also piece together what kind of cars the train was pulling.”
“What about the fact that the door was open? You’re saying they planned that, too?”
I tapped my spoon on the table. “I guess it’s possible, but that, I think, was just a lucky break for the killers. Otherwise, they would have had to cram Noah onto the exterior refrigerator unit or haul him up to the roof.”
“The door just happened to be open.”
“It happens more often than you think.” I kept tapping the spoon as I thought things through. “ColdShip hires undocumented workers and then does a crap job with safety regulations. I got that straight out of the North Platte Telegraph. Whoever jammed that plug door open was just being smart. And, sadly, also giving our killers both a murder weapon and a place to leave Noah’s body.”
“But why?” Bandoni leaned back in his chair. “Why would his killers go to all that trouble?”
“I’m thinking.” ColdShip and Top-A both hired undocumented workers. Ami, Erica, and Lupita had worked at ColdShip, then gone to work for Top-A. Ami had cleaned Noah’s house and become his girlfriend. Erica had worked at the homes of Markey and Riley. Which meant—what?
Bandoni huffed. “Still thinking?”
“Yeah.” The North Platte Telegraph article had mentioned an immigration attorney. It was time to give him a call, see if he could shed any light.
“You’re giving me a headache with that fucking banging,” Bandoni said.
I set down the spoon. “We’re missing something.”
He scowled. “You figure out what it is, you let me know. Moving on, Lobowitz got the holy grail for Ron Gabel.”
“The rapid DNA machine?”
“Exactly. He’s been running through DNA like an addict slamming pills, and he’s got good news for you. He asked me to pass it along.”
“I could use that about now.”
“He linked the DNA from all the nursing-home rapes. It’s the same perp. Still no ID, but this is real progress. He said to tell you congratulations.”
I refilled my coffee, checking to see if my hands held steady as a happy dance of adrenaline and feel-good chemicals pirouetted through my veins. We were breathing down the neck of a man who’d been torturing women for years. Maybe the next incident would break the case open.
“Good work, Parnell,” Bandoni said. “We might make a detective out of you yet.”
Suzie appeared at our table. She gave Bandoni the evil eye. “Where’s Michael?”
Suzie had been on me for years to find Prince Charming. In her mind and mine, Cohen was the spitting image. Bandoni, apparently, did not fit the bill.
“Cohen’s on his way,” I said. “This is my partner, Detective Bandoni. Bandoni, meet Suzie.”
“Ah.” Suzie’s frown vanished. “Well, then, it’s a pleasure. What’s your poison?”
I ordered a green-chili burrito to share with Cohen. Bandoni asked for a second pot of coffee, Mountain Dew, a cheeseburger, and sweet potato fries.
“Coming right up,” Suzie said and melted back into the crowd.
“Sweet potatoes?” I said.
“Getting my vegetables.”
“And ketchup, I suppose.”
“Two vegetables.” He spread his hands over his gut and looked pleased with himself. “Picture of health.”
“You are such a cop, Bandoni.”
“You ever look in the mirror? You got the disease, rookie. I can see the hunger in your eyes.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You’re hooked. And now you’ll spend the next forty years trying to decide if it’s the best job in the world or the worst. Here’s some advice.” He planted his elbows on the table and leaned in. His breath smelled of coffee and cigarettes and peppermint. “Soon as you lose faith in what you’re doing, you quit. ’Cause after that you’re nothing but a fucktard sucking up precious air.”
Bandoni was right. I had the hunger. I’d had it since I found the shrine to Noah in the middle of a field.
But faith that I was the right person for the job? Or that the job was right for me?
The jury was still out for deliberation.
“Now,” Bandoni said, “I want you to hang on to that hunger. ’Cause I got bad news, too.”
“And I was feeling really great there for a minute.”
“Gabel tested your Barbie doll. No fingerprints. But he did get DNA.”
“That sounds like good news.”
“The DNA from the doll matches that from the nursing-home rapes.”
I jolted upright. My hand caught the coffee mug and tipped it over. Bandoni grabbed napkins.
“That’s not possible,” I said. “It’s a mistake. The samples got contaminated.”
“Anyone but Gabel, I’d agree. But not him.”
“Something wrong with the machine, then.”
He finished mopping up the coffee. “The samples are linked, rookie.”
“But it makes no sense. Kurt—Kurt has a dark-blue cargo van. He’s the one who’s been following me.”
“Which kind of suggests he’s the rapist.”
“He’s too young.”
“No, he’s not. After your call this afternoon, I checked. He would have been seventeen or eighteen when those rapes happened. Old enough. But these so-called gentlemen are working together. Maybe it was one of the others.”
I pictured Riley and Markey and Craze and tried not to go where my thoughts wanted to take me. My stomach twisted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“What it is.”
“Don’t tell the others,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Why the hell not? They need to know.”
“Cohen will worry. Or try to put me under house arrest. Just wait until we’re sure it’s true. Okay?”
In the next second, Clyde shot out from beneath the table and unleashed the might of his wagging tail, almost taking out a man in an Xcel Energy uniform. All for Cohen, who was working his way toward us through the crowd. Dog’s best friend. I scooted over in the booth and felt my lover’s fingers grasp
