Trial Junkies

Junction coming to mind. Lola Baldacci was an oddly cold woman, whose muted reaction to everything around her-except Christopher-was strikingly counter to her daughter's often unbridled emotionality. She was one of those people who were difficult to read, and he didn't doubt that she had bottled her emotions up tight the day her son died, and had never again let them loose.

Maybe his death had broken something inside of her. Or maybe she had always been this way. Hutch didn't care to guess.

While Ronnie scooped up Christopher and carried him into the spare bedroom, Andy laid claim to the last Double Diamond in the fridge, and was busy guzzling it down when the phone rang.

Hutch answered it and Maurice told him that Tom and Monica had arrived.

When they joined Hutch, Matt and Andy in the dining room, the mood much more somber than the previous night, Matt flipped open the folder to show them another stack of computer printouts.

At the top of the stack was the familiar photocopy of Langer's Illinois state ID.

'I spent the afternoon showing this thing around. I was hoping to get a hit at the apartment building across from the lot where Jenny was found.'

'Any luck?' Hutch asked.

'A complete bust. Nobody I talked to saw him. Not before, not after.'

'So the only connection we have between him and Jenny is the sighting at the law office. We need that surveillance tape. Maybe I should give the receptionist a little nudge.'

'Give her time,' Matt said. 'I think she'll come through.'

'I hope so.'

Ronnie came back from the bedroom and went into the kitchen to draw herself a glass of water. 'Did I miss anything?'

'Not really,' Hutch said, then looked at Matt. 'I'm hoping we're about to get to the good part.'

And so they did. If you could call it good.

'I had breakfast with a source of mine who's ex-FBI,' Matt told them. 'He agreed to cash in a favor and run Langer's photo through facial recognition to see if he got a hit.'

'And did he?' Ronnie asked.

'Oh, yeah,' Andy said. 'And then some.'

Matt took several sheets from the stack and handed them to Hutch and Ronnie. Hutch looked down at a printout of another state ID, this one from Wisconsin, showing Langer's face and the name Robert Edward Schlipp. The next sheet featured a Massachusetts ID issued to Alan Matthews. And the third showed Langer as Thomas Keel from Albany, New York.

Hutch looked over at Ronnie's stack and saw at least three more aliases.

'Holy shit,' he murmured. 'This guy's all over the place.'

'How many identities does he have?' Monica asked.

'So far we've found seven,' Matt said, 'including Frederick Langer. And all seven use the same ploy-stealing the identity of a dead child. Looks like he's been doing this for at least eight years.'

She frowned. 'So which one is he?'

'Probably none of them.'

'But it gets worse,' Andy said. 'A lot worse. Tell them about the girls, Matt.'

Tom raised his eyebrows. 'Girls?'

Matt reached to the folder again and took out the remaining sheets of paper. 'I did an Internet search, trying to match the dates that the IDs were issued, with any violent crimes in the area during a six month window. I figured it was a long shot, but I got five hits in four of the states. And all but one of those hits originated from the same city that Langer was living in at the time. Two of them were in Boston.'

He laid five sheets of paper onto the table top as if he were dealing out the river cards in a hand of Texas Hold'em. Each one featured a photograph of a young woman, and each of those women had dark hair and the same basic facial structure, looking very much like the waitress that Langer had been staring at just a couple hours ago.

And, of course, Ronnie.

They all looked just like Ronnie.

'This can't be a coincidence,' Matt said. 'Two of these women are missing and presumed dead, and the other three were found stabbed to death in their own homes.'

They were all silent for what seemed a very long time, and Ronnie's face went pale, looking as if she were about to faint. Hutch reached over and steadied her with a hand, rubbing her shoulder-a move that wasn't lost on Andy.

'Bottom line,' Matt said, 'Langer's a serial perp. He moves around state to state to keep the pattern from emerging. And he was targeting Ronnie when he signed up for that pet grooming class.'

They all looked at her, but she said nothing, clearly jolted by the news.

'That waitress you two saw must be his back-up,' Andy added. 'Or he's planning a double, like he did in Boston.'

On the ride up in the elevator, they had told Matt and Andy about their night, Hutch conveniently leaving out the part about his nearly lethal encounter with Langer.

But something here didn't make sense, and Hutch was surprised by a creeping feeling of skepticism.

'I don't get it,' he said. 'If Langer was targeting Ronnie, then why did he kill Jenny? She's not even close to his type.'

Andy waved a dismissive hand. 'Who the fuck knows how this guy's brain works? Maybe it was an impulse thing. He saw Jenny and Ronnie at the Godwyn Theater and felt like getting his rocks off before he made the big move.'

Hutch shook his head. 'So he waits almost a month to kill her? Doesn't sound like much of an impulse.'

'Maybe it takes him a while to get it up.'

'But what about the calls?' Hutch said, glancing from Matt to Andy. 'Why would he make all those phone calls, pretending to be Ronnie?'

Matt shrugged. 'This could be some new kind of game for him. He's ramping it up. Rather than go after Ronnie himself, he does Jenny, sets Ronnie up, then sits back and gets off on his handiwork.'

'Guy's probably jerking off in the courthouse men's room every chance he gets,' Andy said. 'And just in case that's not enough for him, he's got the waitress in reserve.'

It still didn't make sense to Hutch, but Andy was right. Who knew how this guy's brain worked? What they did know was that he was warped and dangerous and they needed to expose him.

Hutch surprised himself again. 'We've gotta call the cops.'

Andy laughed. 'A lotta good that'll do.'

'We can show them the photos. They'll have to listen to us now.'

'We've already talked about this,' Matt said. 'Printouts from the web don't really prove anything and, believe me, these idiots are too proud to admit when they've made a mistake. It doesn't help they've got that fascist Keating breathing down their necks.'

'What about your FBI friend?' Tom asked.

'Ex-FBI. And while he agrees Langer's a problem, he thinks the bureau's too busy chasing Islamic bogey-men to care. They might run a check, but it would be low priority.'

Hutch said, 'You think I could hire him to look into it?'

Matt shook his head. 'He made it clear this was a one-time favor and nothing more. I can't even tell you his name.'

'So it's back to us,' Hutch said, once again thinking about Langer's knife at his throat. He wanted more than ever to tag this freak, and next time he'd get it right. He just hoped he hadn't spooked Langer enough to make him run.

Spooked?

Who was he kidding? If anyone was spooked it was him.

But he was still convinced that Langer hadn't recognized him. That the darkness and his meager attempt at a disguise had done their job. The real test, however, would be when he walked into that courtroom tomorrow morning, assuming Langer bothered to-