“Almost. Had an errand to run earlier.”
Kitt simultaneously handed the fiber analysis report to M.C. and reached for a slice of the pie. “I must be psychic, I was just thinking about pizza.”
“Great minds and all that. What is this?”
“Fiber analysis from the Entzel and Vest scenes.” She popped the tab on the Diet Coke she had brought up with her. “Take a look.”
She did and a moment later, straightened. “Tyvek? Holy crap.”
Kitt cocked an eyebrow at the saying. “Not quite my sentiment, but close.”
After a moment, M.C. laid the report aside. “Interesting. Do you think he wears the coverall to the scene or puts it on there? Let’s say, outside the girl’s bedroom window?”
“My guess, wears it there. Puts the hood up outside her window.”
“Then, afterward, he destroys the garment. And any evidence on it that might link him to the crime.”
“Him,” Kitt agreed. “Or her.” M.C. straightened. “Excuse me?”
“I believe there’s a strong chance the Copycat is female.” Kitt shared her theory with the other woman, starting with her observations of the locker’s contents and finishing by recalling the traditional profile of a female serial killer.
M.C. sat back in her chair, bringing her beer with her. She took a long swallow, then rolled the can between her palms. “The Copycat a woman? Interesting.”
Kitt leaned forward. “I want to run one additional thought by you. Could the original SAK have been a cop?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I wish I was. I reviewed the transcript of my recorded conversations with Peanut. He knew about Todd. How? Who else knew he was a suspect?”
“Outside the department, damn few. ZZ. Sydney Dale. ZZ’s wife.”
“Exactly. Of course, since I’m not officially on the case, take it for what you think it’s worth.”
“You’re back on.”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“Limited involvement until I’ve finished going through all this.” She motioned with her hand to her desktop and computer. “I’m doing my best to plow through it tonight.”
Kitt cocked an eyebrow. “That come from Sal?”
“My recommendation to Sal was for full reinstatement. He added the caveat.”
“You want me to thank you?”
The edgy question landed between them. M.C. leaned forward, expression earnest. “I screwed up, Kitt. I’m sorry.”
“Because the search of Joe’s turned up nothing?”
“No, because we’re partners. It wouldn’t matter if we had found a journal detailing the crimes, I would still be apologizing. This isn’t about Joe. Or the case. It’s about how you deserved to be treated.”
“And the search?”
“Let’s just say, I don’t believe Joe’s as strong a suspect as I did.”
Kitt nodded, slightly mollified but unconvinced. She couldn’t dismiss the things Brian had said about M.C. They had been friends a long time; he had earned her trust. Why would he lie to her?
“So, what do you think, Kitt? Can you work with me?”
She avoided the question with one of her own. “A better question might be, can you trust me?”
“I’ll do my damnedest. How’s that for honesty?”
“Not bad. Now it’s my turn. I overheard your argument with Brian.”
M.C. stiffened. “I was afraid of that.”
Which would explain the sudden magnanimity.
Kitt recalled the last thing Brian had said, “Are you threatening me, Detective?”
Her expression must have given her away because M.C. swore and stood. “I was afraid because I knew you’d get the wrong idea.”
“From what I heard, I’m not certain there could be a ‘right’ idea. You had an affair with Brian?”
“Yes. Had. Years ago. I was a rookie and he was a detective in the VCB. He was separated from his wife.
“It was stupid,” M.C. continued. “I was young. Naive. I looked up to him…he was like a god. The hotshot, macho detective. He knew everything, had seen everything.”
Kitt remembered the younger Brian. Big and good-looking with the kind of swagger that screamed “I’m all that.” Female catnip.
“So, what happened?”
“I realized sleeping with a colleague was a mistake. He went back to his wife. No harm, no foul.”
“Until now?” M.C. frowned. “Yeah. And I don’t get it. Years go by, we have a fine working relationship. Suddenly, he’s all over me. Hitting on me. Following me. It’s weird.”
It was weird, Kitt thought. That behavior certainly wasn’t typical of the Brian she had known for years. He had always been a womanizer. A love ’em and leave ’em kind of Romeo. More faithful to his wife at some times than others.
But none of his affairs, that she knew of, had ever been serious. Certainly none had ever crossed this kind of line.
What was going on with Brian? Middle age and a crumbling marriage? Something more?
Or was M.C. lying?
“A word of advice, Kitt. Watch your back with that one.”
“What are you thinking?” M.C. asked.
“That it’s time to go.” Kitt finished her slice of pizza and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “My tail’s dragging.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything else?”
Kitt met her gaze evenly. “I’m not certain what to say. Brian’s my friend. My good friend.”
“Well,” she said, tone bitter, “you said you’d be honest.”
“I’m trying to be fair, too. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” M.C. crossed to the pizza box and closed the lid. “That’s life.”
“M.C.? I-” Kitt bit back the conciliatory words she had been about to say. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sure. See you then.”
Kitt exited the bureau, feeling as if she should say something more, but not knowing what. She knew M.C. felt she was taking Brian’s side, but that wasn’t the case. She simply wasn’t siding with M.C., either. Weirdly, she didn’t fully trust either of them right now.
She made her way to the elevator, which took her to the parking garage. As she crossed to her vehicle, she remembered her waiting message. She checked it. It was from Brian.
“Kitt. It’s me. I did a little nosing around. You’re not going to believe what I found. Call me on my cell.”
52
Monday, March 20, 2006
8:30 p.m.
Excited, Kitt jumped into her vehicle. The message could mean only one thing-Brian had found something that might implicate a cop in the SAK and Copycat cases. After buckling up and starting the engine, she dialed him back. The device went automatically to his voice mail.
“Dammit, Brian, don’t leave me that kind of voice mail, then go into hiding. Call me back.”
Thirty minutes later, home and changed into her comfortable jeans, he still hadn’t called. She tried his cell again with the same results. Frustrated, she decided to try Ivy. Maybe he was with his kids. Or reconciling with his wife.
