'Duct tape,' guessed Rook.
'That's right. I didn't catch it at the scene because of the long sleeves she was wearing. The killer not only removed the tape when he was done, but pulled the cuffs down. Thorough job, detail-oriented. As for the tape itself, adhesive residue is at the lab now. Over the counter everywhere, so good luck matching it, but you never know.' The ME used a stick pen to indicate points along the body template on her chart. 'Taping was on both arms and both ankles. I already called Forensics. Sure enough, the chair tested positive for residue as well.'
Nikki made a note. 'And what about the torture itself?'
'See the dried blood in the ear canal? There were numerous probes from sharp objects prior to expiration.'
Heat suppressed an involuntary shiver at the thought. 'What kind of sharp objects?'
'Various needle-like probes. Like, maybe, dental picks. Nothing larger than that. Small wounds but painful as hell. I took some digitals for you with the cam on my otoscope. I'll e-mail them to the precinct. But somebody definitely wanted this woman to be in pain before she died.'
'Or talk about something,' said Nikki. 'Two distinct motives, depending on which.' Nikki quickly processed the significance of this torture along with the missing office papers and came down on the side of someone getting Cassidy Towne to talk. This felt more and more about whatever it was she had been working on.
'Other points of interest.' Lauren handed a lab report to Nikki. 'That blood smear you spotted on the wallpaper? Negative match for the victim.'
Nikki showed surprise. 'So maybe she injured her attacker before she was subdued?'
'Maybe. There are some defense wounds on her hands. Which brings me to the final piece of info I have for you. This woman's hands were filthy. I don't mean just a little. She's got residual dirt in the creases of her palms, and look at the fingernails.' She gently lifted one of Cassidy Towne's hands. 'It was hidden by her nail polish, but here's what I found under her fingernails.' Each finger had a crescent moon of dirt under the nail.
'I know what that's from,' said Rook. 'That's from her gardening. She said it was her one escape from her work.'
'Some escape for a gossip columnist,' said Lauren. 'Digging more dirt.' Rook was a few strides ahead of Heat getting to the elevator. 'Hang on,' Nikki said, but he had already pressed the button. The doors opened when she arrived at his side, and she rested a hand on his arm and said to the passengers inside, 'We'll get the next one.' As the doors curtained closed on their annoyed faces, she added, 'Sorry.'
'Accepted,' said Rook. And they both laughed a little.
Damn, she thought, what was this knack he had to disarm her all the time? She drew him away from the elevators to the southwest windows, where the October sun cut blinding light across them as it got ready to set. 'I was a little rough on you. I do apologize for that.'
'I'll put some ice on it, I'll be all right,' he said.
'Like I said, it's not personal to you. It's the article, which is only you sort of.'
'Nikki, you disappeared off the grid. That felt personal. I'm funny that way. If I hadn't had the good fortune to be doing a profile of a murder victim, we might not be lucky enough to be arguing now.' She laughed, and he said, 'That's right, I killed Cassidy Towne just to get close to Nikki Heat. Hey, there's my title!'
Nikki smiled again and hated it that he could be so cute. 'Anyway, accept my apology?'
'Only if you accept an invitation to buy you a drink tonight. Let's be grown-ups and clear the air so I don't have to feel all weird when I see you on the street.'
'Or at a murder scene,' she added.
'Odds are,' said Rook.
Nikki wouldn't be seeing Don until later that night, so she agreed. Rook caught a cab back to his loft to get some writing done, while she took the elevator to the garage to drive back to the precinct and wrap her day.
At her garage level, the elevator doors opened and Raley and Ochoa were there, about to get on. 'We miss the autopsy?' asked Ochoa.
Nikki stepped out with them and the doors closed behind her. She held up the file. 'Report's right here.'
'Oh,' said Ochoa. 'Good, then.' Heat wouldn't have been much of a detective if she couldn't read the disappointment in him. He was, no doubt, hoping for an excuse to see Lauren Parry.
'Got something for you, though, Detective,' said Raley. He held up a heavy-duty manila envelope bulging with something square inside.
'You're kidding,' she said, daring to feel some energy in the case again. 'The typewriter ribbons?'
'Some typewriter ribbons,' cautioned Raley. 'Her nosy neighbor recycled a bunch of them before the garbage strike, so they're long gone. These are strays he had in his bin. Four of them.'
'Nothing in her typewriter,' added Ochoa. 'We'll run them up to the precinct so Forensics can get on them.'
Nikki looked at her watch and then to Ochoa, feeling bad for the guy that his plan to see Lauren Parry had been thwarted by minutes of bad timing. 'Tell you what would be a better plan,' she said. 'As long as you're here, I don't want to have the Padilla case fall through the cracks. Would you go up and see where they are on his autopsy? They're beyond swamped, but if you ask nicely, I bet Lauren Parry will do it as a favor.'
'I guess we could ask her,' said Ochoa.
Raley knuckle-tapped the manila envelope. 'We're going to lose a day with Forensics, though.'
'I'm heading uptown, anyway,' said Nikki. 'I'll drop them at Forensics.'
Getting no argument, she signed the chain of evidence form and took the envelope from them. 'Let's hear it for nosy neighbors,' she said.
Uptown traffic was impossible. Ten-ten WINS said there was a major crash under the UN on the FDR and the work-around traffic was clogging everything northbound on the island. Nikki cut across town, hoping the West Side Highway would at least be crawling. Then she did some calculation and wondered if she should call Rook to rain check. But her gut told her that would just revive the friction she was trying to cool. Another plan.
She was only minutes from his loft. She could stop by, pick him up, and he could come with her to the precinct. They could have a drink around there. The weather was still nice enough for a patio table at Isabella's. 'Hey, it's me, change of plan,' she said to his voice mail. 'We're still on, but call me when you get this.' Nikki hung up and smiled, thinking of him writing to his remastered Beatles.
Heat parked in the same loading zone she had parked in once before, the night of the pounding rainstorm when she and Rook had kissed in the downpour and then run through it to his front steps, soaked to the skin and not caring. She put her police sign on her dash, locked the manila envelope in the trunk, and, a minute later, stood at the foot of his steps, pausing, feeling a bit of a flutter remembering that night and how they couldn't get enough of each other.
A man with a chocolate Lab on a leash passed her and climbed the steps. She followed behind and petted the dog while the man got out his keys. 'Name's Buster,' he said. 'The dog, not me.'
'Hello, Buster.' The Lab eyeballed his man for permission and got up to offer Nikki his chin for a scratch, which she was glad to oblige. If dogs could smile, this one was doing it. Buster looked at her in his bliss and Nikki flashed back on her encounter with the coyote and its defiant stare-down in the middle of West 83rd. She felt a sudden chill. When the man opened the front door, the dog moved by reflex to go with him. She was just reaching for Rook's door buzzer when the man said, 'You look trustworthy, come on.'
And she followed him in.
Rook had the penthouse loft. The man and his dog rode as far as three and got off. Nikki didn't like the idea of surprising men in their apartments or hotel rooms, having had one poor experience resulting in a tearful flight home from Puerto Vallarta one spring break. Tearful for him, that is.
She reached for her phone to call Rook again, but by then the car was at the top of the shaft. She put her phone away, pulled the metal accordion doors open, and stepped into his vestibule.
Heat approached his door quietly and listened. Nothing to hear. She pressed the button and heard it buzz inside. She heard a footstep, but realized it wasn't coming from inside the loft but from behind her. Someone had been waiting in the vestibule. Before she could turn, her head slammed into Rook's door and she blacked out. When Nikki came to, it was in the same blackness she had just left. Was she blind? Was she still unconscious?
Then she felt the fabric on her cheek. She was wearing some kind of sack or hood. Her arms and legs wouldn't move. They were duct-taped to the chair she was sitting in. She attempted to speak, but her mouth was duct-taped, too.
