The printout of the newest victim from the National Center lay in the middle of the table. Her name was Trina Ester. She’d run away from home in Ohio ten months earlier and had made no contact with her family. She’d been a good student, involved in school, then, around the midway point of her junior year, she showed signs of drug use: lethargy, disconnection with her family, mood swings, slipping grades. Her mother’s efforts to help her were met with defiance, and she made a choice to run for greener pastures. Stallings sadly knew that there was no such thing.
Mazzetti shook his head, “Can you believe this guy’s fucking luck?”
The lieutenant scowled at him, then turned back to Stallings. “You did a great job identifying her, Stall. The analysts were going to start scouring the country today. We had them pretty bogged down with local leads from the community college yesterday. The media doesn’t have the first clue about our resources and passes on that ignorance to the general public. They think we can snap our fingers for DNA or have enough people to cover every lead in a few minutes.” She shook her head. “I wish we were allowed to punch those assholes at Channel Eleven.”
Stallings just nodded, but sensed something else was going on in the room. They weren’t just here because of his ID of the victim.
The lieutenant sighed and said, “Stall, you got any idea how the media knew we were at the community college?”
He shook his head and said, “My guess is someone out there called it in.”
“That would be my guess too except that you were mentioned as the lead on this case. You by name.” Her voice took a slight rise in volume at the end.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking. Detective Stallings, did you have any contact with the media in reference to this case?”
“No.” He knew not to elaborate. Just as he knew Rita Hester’s code for him to keep his mouth shut was to start a sentence with his title. On the street she used to say, “Officer Stallings, did we take a two-hour lunch?” in front of a sergeant and he knew not to fess up. There were times to admit things and times to keep your mouth shut. Right now he had nothing to admit to but knew this inquiry was serious.
Mazzetti slapped the table. “Bullshit. This has your name written all over it.”
Stallings ignored the excited detective and turned toward the lieutenant. “Is that all you needed me for?”
“You got any new leads?”
“I’m looking for a prescription drug dealer named Ernie.”
“You’ll keep Detective Mazzetti fully informed?”
“I have so far, haven’t I, Tony?” He contained a smile.
“I guess.”
The lieutenant said, “Can we support you in any way?” She gave him a slight smile to tell him she was enjoying torturing Tony Mazzetti a little.
“Yes, ma’am. Can I take Patty with me?”
Mazzetti sprang to his feet. “No, you fucking can’t.” His voice had more of an edge than usual.
The lieutenant said, “What Mazzetti means is that she’s on another assignment. She’s on her way to Gainesville to discuss some forensic aspects of the case.”
Stallings nodded, not asking for another partner. If he couldn’t have Patty he preferred to be left alone.
Patty Levine had driven her county-issued Ford Freestyle down 301 from I-10 to Gainesville earlier in the morning, saving a few extra minutes to have coffee with her gymnastics coach from her days on the team ten years ago. Unlike academic advisers in other areas, gymnastics coaches were never too disappointed you didn’t find a job in the field. Any occupation where you always peak before your twentieth birthday is a dead end anyway. Coaches are usually happy to see their former athletes healthy and happy and in this case she would’ve liked Patty to be married and having children by now, but she hid the disappointment about as well as Patty’s mother. It showed, but didn’t hurt their relationship.
Patty was a success in a field where it could be hard for a woman to excel. That success gave her a satisfaction most people missed in life. She knew what her mom and others expected, but she’d start a family when she was ready. Right now she liked how she could focus on an investigation and make a name for herself at the S.O. When the time was right she’d focus on her personal life, and she knew she’d be just as good of a mother as she was a cop.
For a change Patty didn’t openly flinch at the line of questions about her love life. She’d been on a date last night for the first time in months. She ate real food at a real restaurant. She’d even kissed a man she found attractive. There was some regret at ending the evening right there and sending the puppy dog-faced Tony Mazzetti home after a five-minute-long good-night kiss. He obviously wanted to stay but had been a gentleman and took a gracious exit. Patty noted that he hadn’t called her yet today. His tough luck.
The chat with her former coach had brought up enough unpleasant memories of competitions that she took a Xanax with her second cup of coffee. The way things were going at work and at night, she didn’t even think about weaning herself from the pills just now. She realized it took more and more Ambien to knock her out at night, and that concerned her, but she felt as if she had a handle on everything else.
After wandering around the campus she had known so well, she found Williamson Hall across Stadium Road from Florida Field, known as the “Swamp” to every college football fan in the country. She’d spent many Saturday nights in the Swamp, her mood tied to the football team, like every other student caught up in the fall exercise in futility. No matter how much she cheered, win or lose, she discovered the Gators football record had very little impact on her life.
After asking several receptionists and students, Patty found the office of Jonas Fuller, one of the foremost experts on particles and commercial geological issues. Or as the detectives back at the office called him, “The sand guy.” Now she sat across from him with the two vials containing a few specks of sand each that had been sent down here as soon as they were collected from the last victim Monday.
The fifty-five-year-old professor had the tough, weather-beaten look of a man who had spent his life in the hot tropical sun of some country rich in geologic history. She could almost picture him in an Indiana Jones hat with a bullwhip wrapped in a tight ring on his belt.
The lean older man smirked and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cop that looks like you.”
“I guess you’ve never been to Jacksonville and crossed my patrol zone.”
He let out a laugh and stood up, showing his loose shirt and muscular forearms. “I usually do this kind of consulting for free. I like to work out fees in different ways.” He eased to the end of the table. “I can say without a doubt that these two separate sources of the particles are from the same area. It’s an ornamental sand produced in Racine, Wisconsin. I put all the manufacturing information in my report.” He stepped around the corner of the table and crept up next to Patty, who remained silent and still in her chair.
She could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body as he leaned his face down parallel to hers. “Now it’s your job to find a way to get the report from me without costing your department a dime. Any ideas?”
Patty thought about this creep around freshmen coeds and what John Stallings would do to him. It made her shudder a little. She wasn’t Stall and didn’t always agree with his methods. She liked to teach people lessons another way.
She turned and said, “I’m not sure I catch your meaning, Grandpa. Do you mean like you want me to rub your bunions or help you trim the hair in your ears?” She could feel the heat from his face as it flushed red.
The professor stood, tried to compose himself, walked stiffly back to his side of the table opposite her, and said, “No, that’s quite all right. Sorry for any misunderstanding.” He slid across a three-page stapled report and added, “My bet would be the sand came from a big distributor like Home Depot or Lowe’s.”
Patty stood and smiled. “Thanks so much, Professor Fuller.”
“No, it was my pleasure, really.” He started to run his fingers through his long gray hair, then stopped short, realizing how Patty viewed him.
She said, “I’ll make sure you’re recognized for your work.”
“Anything to assist the police.”
Patty couldn’t help it and started to laugh out loud as she walked through the door to the front of the building. She had another lead.
