Heads Will Roll – Chapter Thirteen

NOT EDITED

Friday: January 31, 2014

Rick had still been awake when Bo texted him just after midnight, asking if he was available to give him a ride back to the station. When he arrived at Carol’s house, he found Bo seated on the front steps, head tilted back against the railing, a cigarette held between his fingers. Bo had been a bit too young to be smoking when Rick had been in Los Angeles, but everything else about the scene was familiar, even the way Bo’s knees were pulled up just enough for him to rest his arms on.

Rick climbed out of the cruiser and made his way up to the house. With a clear of his throat, he sat down on the step beneath Bo’s chosen seat. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only sometimes.” Bo blew a curl of smoke out the corner of his mouth. “The blood on the counter was male.”

Rick’s brow furrowed. “But it’s…? You said the type was O-something, right? Not like the one at the school?”

“Right.”

“So there’s…? Jesus fucking Christ.”

Bo brought his cigarette to his mouth and drew in a breath, turning his head to blow the smoke as far away from Rick as possible. “Miss Young probably headbutted the guy at the school. Maybe kicked him. She got him in the nose, more than likely, no matter which way she did it. Miss Jameson stabbed the guy here at her house. When it came back male, I searched the knives. The whole drawer. The whole knife block. It was in the block. The steak knife.” Bo cleared his throat, tapping the ash off his cigarette. “He washed it, but there’s blood on it. His, hers… I don’t know yet. But blood. And then he put it back in the fucking knife block, hoping we wouldn’t find it.”

Rick buried a hand in his hair. Think. What the fuck was he supposed to say? What the fuck was he supposed to do? “But there are… are definitely two of them?”

“I’m absolutely certain of it.”

Well. There was no harm in asking. “What the fuck are we gonna do, Bo?”

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll find them. Both of them. I just… need a moment.” Bo laughed, though the sound held nothing resembling humor. “I didn’t think you’d be awake. I thought I’d have more time to sit on the cold concrete and… think.”

“Sorry about that. I haven’t really been sleeping lately, you know?”

“Yeah,” Bo whispered.

“What do you need more time to think about? Something specific? Something general?”

“California.”

“What’s… going on in California?”

Bo shook his head. “Not about what’s currently going on. What already went on.” Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to look at the deputy. “The Decapitor case.”

“So it’s not just me, huh?”

“No.”

Rick cleared his throat. “Do we have a clear link?”

“As far as the law is concerned? No.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t necessarily want to tell you.”

“Why? Because you’re scared I’ll be an ass about it?”

Bo shook his head, brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Because you can’t do anything productive with the information.”

“Neither can you, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, then two of us might as well shoulder the non-productive information, don’t you think? Share the burden?”

Bo sighed, but that seemed to get through to him. “Jamal has an… underground DNA system that no one is supposed to know about, but I built the software it runs on. So I… ran it through it, and I got a hit on the one in the basement at the school. It… it’s related to the DNA that we pulled from the suspect in the Decapitor case. It’s a paternal link.”

“The father of the killer in California?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t understand. Why is it not a link we have in the ‘eyes of the law’? What do you mean?”

Bo cleared his throat. “It can’t be entered in CODIS because he was never charged with a crime. He died before we could even legally collect his DNA, either through his consent or through a warrant. There are gaps in the system that allow people to fall through, and that’s one of them. His DNA was never found at any of the crime scenes, so it’s not in the Forensic Unknowns. It simply doesn’t exist. S-so as far as the law is concerned, as far as the investigation is concerned… We don’t know anything other than that we have two separate, unrelated males involved in two separate crimes. One involved in the kidnapping of Miss Young, and one involved in the murder of Miss Jameson.”

Rick stayed silent for what felt like far too long, but he was truly at a loss for words. “What are we even supposed to do with this information?”

“I told you I didn’t want to tell you.”

Rick shook his head. “I’m not mad at you for telling me. But now you and I have this incredibly important piece of information, and we can’t do shit with it.”

“From a legal standpoint, yes. We know what we’re working toward, though. You and I, we know that we need to find a way to make a connection to the Decapitor case. We know it for certain. We just have to find something else to make the link, something that isn’t DNA.”

“Please tell me you’ve got some kind of lead on that.”

“I have an idea of where to begin, but it’s going to involve a lot of reading before I even begin to have what you’d consider a ‘lead’.” Bo shook his head, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I’m going to start with the vidence once I get to the station. The external examination of the body, the autopsy, the evidence. And then I’ll get into the reading part of things.”

“Well, we should get you to your hotel room for a nap first.”

“No. Come on, Rick. Do you really think I’ve grown to start sleeping better during investigations the longer I’ve done them?”

Rick snorted. “Yeah, I guess not.” With a slap of his thighs, he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s get you to the station, then.”

***

Bo’s ‘office’ at the station was a corner of the file room in the basement, where Bridget and Jeff had moved boxes and pushed shelves out of the way for his equipment to be set up. Bo wasn’t picky where he worked, not really, and he actually sort of liked the… closed in feeling of the room. He was sure it was trigger some claustrophobic feelings for some people, but for him, it was a little bit comforting. Cozy. In school, during free periods, he had tucked himself into corners or spaces between bookcases. If one could squeeze himself into a tight enough space, it was like a hug, one where you didn’t have to worry about the other person getting tired of your wants or needs.

After filing the evidence from the Jameson house away, Rick had taken him to the hospital for the autopsy of her body. Feeling as though he were on a bit more of a time crunch than usual, Bo had simply set up a voice recorder for his notes during the autopsy. Later, if she was okay with it, Bridget could write out a pretty good transcript of the recording while he further examined the evidence. At the very least, it would give one investigator something to do until they had an actual, legal lead they could follow.

Back at the station, Bo had started with the evidence from the school, beginning the actual ‘accepted’ testing required to get the important information down on paper. If he had simply allowed Jamal to patent the technology in his name and lobby for its official use, he wouldn’t have to waste the extra time now. They had already had to waste so much time — waiting for him and Bridget to arrive from Los Angeles, waiting for Bo to be done at the lake so he could move to the house, waiting, waiting, and waiting. And now they’d have to wait some more while a psychopathic killer’s father hunted down more civilians in Ellepath.

Before he could think himself into a migraine or something worse, Bo pushed himself to his feet, snagged his empty coffee mug from the table, and headed upstairs. He was surprised to see Bridget in the small break room, and a quick check of his watch confirmed it was only seven. “Good morning.”

Bridget turned to smile at him. “Morning. Did you sleep?”

Bo shook his head. “I can’t.” He cleared his throat, reaching for the coffee pot. “Did you climb your tree?”

“I sure did.”

He snorted. “Was it… a good climb?”

“Oh, the best, B. Mm. The best.”

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Yeah, not too bad, for the most part.” She crossed her arms over the counter. “You don’t have to drink that shitty cheap stuff, unless you’re, like… into that. Jeff’s getting us the good stuff from the little cafe here in town.”

“Excellent. I will hold off, then.” Bo slid the half-full pot back into place and turned to face Bridget, one elbow resting on the counter. “Did he seem all right last night? Tree-climbing aside?”

Bridget offered a little shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I think he’s handling it better than I did when I saw my first, umm… beheaded corpse, you know? But it’s definitely eating away at him. They used to, like, work cases of missing Christmas decorations at this time a year.”

“I hope they can get back to that soon.”

“Me too. That’s what I told him.” She shook her head. “I hope he doesn’t have to learn to compartmentalize all of it. I hope this is it for him and this town. I-I hope they never see anything like this again.”

Bo blew out a breath. “Yeah. Me too.”

Bridget pushed away from the counter as Jeff walked into the breakroom, a small cardboard drink carrier in one hand. “Hey. Get everything all right?”

“Mmhmm. Bo, this one’s for you. Decker said you’d like their iced maple caramel thing.”

“I would indeed, thank you,” Bo said as he grabbed the cup.

“You’re welcome. And thank you for letting her go early last night.”

Bo nodded. “No problem. I hope she didn’t out-drink you too much.”

Jeff chuckled. “Nah, nothin’ I couldn’t handle.”

“Good.” Bo patted him on the back. “I’ll be in the basement.”

“I’ll be down in a few, B,” Bridget said. Bo offered a thumbs-up before walking out of the room. “Which one’s mine, handsome?” she asked, blue eyes lifting back to Jeff’s face.

“They put a little wreath sticker on the lid of yours.”

“Oh, perfect. Thank you.” Bridget grabbed the cup, an eyebrow raised. “Yours smells delicious. What’d you get?”

“Oh, I just get the boring stuff, and then I add hazelnut creamer and a dash of cinnamon.”

“Ugh. I tried that once for the supposed health benefits, and it was nasty. You drink it for fun?” Bridget asked.

Jeff chuckled, shaking his head. “No, babe, you got the cheap stuff. You gotta get the ‘true’ stuff, the ceylon. It’s sweeter and more… delicate.”

“Wow, my playboy sex fiend also knows about spices?” Bridget asked. “Count me in.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Try it. The coffee, not the sex fiend.”

“Well, I already tried the sex fiend, and I was a big fan.”

“Just try the fucking coffee,” Jeff said through a laugh.

Bridget winked at him before grabbing his cup and taking a sip. “Oo, that is more delicate. Maybe I’ll buy myself some of the real stuff.”

“You should. I don’t even care about the health shit. Just the taste. My mom drank it like that basically my whole childhood.”

“And you talk to your mom? Wow, Biggs, you just check all kinds a boxes,” Bridget said as she grabbed the drink carrier from him and set it on the counter.

“Yeah? What kinda boxes are those?”

“The hot ones.” Bridget leaned up and kissed him.

Jeff let out a surprised, “Mm,” as he moved a hand up to her arm. “Wow,” he whispered. “Mary woulda killed me if I ever kissed her in public.”

“Do you mind if I do? The kissing, not the killing.”

“No,” Jeff said with a shake of his head, his voice still hardly above a whisper. “No, I… I liked that. A lot, actually. Maybe a little too much. Watch yourself.”

Bridget only smiled. “I’ll do no such thing.” She leaned up to press another quick kiss to his lips, adjusting his tie as she fell flat-footed again. “I’m gonna go check on Bo. You go see how Rick’s doing?”

“Yeah. See you in a bit, Decker.”

“Oh, you better believe it, Biggs.” She smacked his ass as she walked past him, straightening out his posture.

Jesus Christ. California sure as hell cooked their ladies up a hell of a lot differently than Ellepath did. Or, at the very least, differently than Ellepath had cooked up Mary.

Jeff grabbed the last cup of coffee from the drink holder and made his way through the station to Rick’s desk. He was hunched over his desk, face buried in his crossed arms. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders indicated he was alive and sleeping. At any rate, Jeff considered both of those to be good things. He grabbed Rick’s empty cup and replaced it with the fresh one before quietly making his way back to the breakroom. After setting Rick’s cup in the sink, he headed down to the basement.

“That’s impossible,” Bridget said.

Jeff stopped just short of the door. It was pretty likely they were either talking about him or the case. If it was the case, he’d go in. If it was him, he’d go back upstairs and let the friends gossip.

“I wish it were, believe me. I ran it three separate times. There are two killers. Or, one kidnapper and one killer,” Bo said.

Jeff eased the door open the rest of the way. “What do you mean two?”

Bo’s tired eyes lifted to Jeff’s face. “The blood found at Carol Jameson’s house belongs to a male. And I examined Miss Jameson’s body myself. She’s a woman, and she was born that way. The blood is not hers.”

“Goddammit,” Jeff whispered. “Goddammit. Does Rick know?”

Bo nodded. “He picked me up from the crime scene early this morning. I already knew by then.”

“How’d he take it?”

“About as well as one can, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Jeff whispered again. “Do you… know anything about either of them?”

“If the blood at the school is from a nosebleed, he must’ve been standing, or standing the majority of the way. Based on that assumption, he’s approximately between five-foot-nine and six-foot. If he is the same one who left footprints near Bonnie’s car, and again at the doorway to the commons, I believe you called it?”

Jeff nodded. “The commons.”

“If he’s the same one who left those prints, he wears an ASICS size eleven. The one at Miss Jameson’s house, I… I don’t know. The heel that dragged through the blood was hers, not his. The blood on the counter was his, and so were two of the drops in the kitchen, but the rest were hers. If she got his arm with the knife, I put him between five-foot-five and five-foot-eleven. I can’t guarantee the position his arm was in when the blood fell, or even which section of his arm it fell from. The greater estimation gap allows for the placement of his arm to change without putting him too far out of said estimation.”

“And no footprints in the driveway or out back?” Jeff asked.

Bo shook his head. “The driveway was shoveled out when I arrived. Was it when you arrived?”

Jeff looked over at Bridget, and after a nod of confirmation from her, he nodded. “Yeah, I kinda remember it being cleaned off.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to see if her neighbors know who shovels her driveway. She was killed sometime around six-thirty yesterday morning. With her retirement, I find it hard to believe she was the one who had the snow cleared off by that point,” Bo said.

“School’s back in session today, far as I know. But we can either stop there today or head out to their houses after school lets out.”

“If you to decide to question them at the school, you should see if the school has any sort of records for the blood type of the teachers or student body. I highly doubt they do, but it’s still worth a shot to simply… ask.”

“Noted.”

Bo seemed hesitant for a moment. “If I’m overstepping, please just let me know.”

“Overstepping… what?” Jeff asked.

“The single-word answer and the tone of your voice makes him worry you’re irritated with him,” Bridget explained.

Jeff shook his head. “Not even a little, Bo. You’re awesome. We’re so incredibly lucky to have you here. It’s the case and… the dead woman and the kidnapped kid and the two killers thing. It’s not you. You’re not overstepping shit, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Bo cleared his throat. “I haven’t yet been to Miss Young’s house. Would you be able to stop there and collect a hairbrush for me?”

“Of course.”

“And… a couple of fingerprints from her room? If you felt so inclined.”

Jeff nodded. “We can do that.”

“Perfect, thank you. Once you return, I’ll be able to compare her hair to the strands found at the school. If any of them are hers, I can conclusively place her in that basement. In the meantime, I still have some evidence to sort through and log.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Bridget said. “If you come up with something before we get back, or if you just need me for something, I’ve got my phone. Okay?”

A little smile tugged at one corner of the short man’s mouth. “Okay, Bridge. We’ll touch base soon.”

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