“This sounds like Anthropology 101.”
“Sure it does. He’s got the mores of his Neanderthal ancestors.”
“So I should be looking for some guy covered in animal skin, wielding a stone ax?”
“More chance he’ll be wearing Armani.”
“Then I’ll have to strike at the beast behind the broad lapel.”
“Make it a sure strike.”
“Is he curable?”
“The prognosis is not in his favor.”
“Then I have no choice. I’ll have to take him down.”
“That’d be my advice.”
Driscoll looked haunted. “Is my hour up?” he asked.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Thanks for the extra time,” he said as he stood up. “As always, I feel better after seeing you.”
“Give some more thought to what I suggested about Colette’s wishes. The doctors are unanimous about her condition, aren’t they? She’s never coming out of the coma.”
Driscoll’s eyes were fixed in a blank stare.
Elizabeth continued, “But you don’t believe them, do you?”
“What are you getting at?”
“You haven’t given up on that fantasy, have you? You think she’s gonna get up from that bed and brew you some French Roast coffee. Tell me the truth. You’re just waiting for that day, aren’t you?”
“You don’t give up. Do you?” Driscoll said, smiling harshly.
“What kind of a therapist would I be if I did?”
Chapter 38
Margaret and Driscoll were once again seated before the NYPD computer monitors inside Driscoll’s office at the Command Center. They were going through the motions of searching the Internet, but their thoughts were elsewhere. And so were their voices. Their awkward silence was interrupted only by the pecking of keys.
Thomlinson entered. A glaring look from Margaret told him he’d stepped into a minefield.
“Catch you guys later,” he said, ducking out the door.
Margaret lifted her fingers from the keyboard and did a one-eighty in her swivel chair. “I think we need to talk about it,” she said. “Ignoring it isn’t gonna make it go away.”
“You’re right. We do need to talk about it.”
“I’m not sorry it happened. Are you?” Please say you’re not.
“I can’t say that I’m sorry. But I gotta be honest with you, I am filled with guilt.”
“That’s a good sign. It means you have a conscience. But you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You were only acting on true feelings. Right?”
“Yes, I was acting on true feelings, but I shouldn’t have had those feelings. I’m a married man.”
That she didn’t need to be reminded of. “Feelings are feelings. They’re neither good nor bad. They’re just feelings. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over having them.”
Driscoll fingered his wedding band. “It’s one thing to have the feelings. But it’s a whole other ball game when you act on them.”
Time to muster some courage, she thought as her heart pounded inside her chest. “I’m about to say something, John, that’ll have you thinking.”
“Go ahead.”
“Colette would understand.”
A quizzical look filled Driscoll’s face. “You’re the second female inside of two days to say that.”
“Well, I’m not gonna ask who the other bright visionary is, but take it from me, given the circumstances, your wife would understand.”
“Part of me is beginning to believe that, but the larger part is calling for harsh punishment.”
“Penance? You want penance? You’re being much too hard on yourself.”
“I need some space, an emotional rest so I can sort things out. For now, let’s just try to get on with our lives and focus our energies back on the case.”
“OK, we will. But, you don’t have to beat yourself up. Trust me. I know I’m right about how Colette would feel.” At least I hope so, her inner voice said as her mind raced.
“Space. Just a little space. OK?”
“You got it.”
The telephone chimed and the Lieutenant answered it. “Driscoll here.”
“I gotta talk to you.” Moira’s voice was filled with apprehension.
“So, talk.”
“Not on the phone. I don’t trust AT amp;T.”
“Moira, you caught me at a bad time.”
“They make an awesome bacon cheeseburger at the Empress Diner.”
“What is it you want?”
“I told you, I won’t discuss it on the phone.”
“Then come to my office.”
“Your office is like Grand Central Station at rush hour. It’s no place for conversation.”
“E-mail me.” Driscoll cradled the phone under his chin and threw both hands in the air.
“Just give me ten minutes. The Empress Diner.”
“You’ve got five. And it better be worth it.”
Chapter 39
The waitress sneered at Driscoll as he slid into the booth across from the teenage girl.
She really did resemble Nicole. The more he saw of the girl, the more he was reminded of his daughter. The likeness was uncanny. “Here I am,” he said. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I know,” she whispered, sipping a cherry coke.
“You know what?”
“I know how he picks them.”
“You know how who picks them?”
“The killer. I designed a program and analyzed the data.”
“What data?”
“From your files.”
“Goddamn it, Moira! Those files are police property!”
“Did you know all of your victims were members of an online service?”
“Yeah. So what? So is half the country.”
“I think your guy is luring the women through the Internet,” she said, knowing the gurgling sound of her straw irritated him. “I could hook up with him.”
“Hook up with him! Moira, if you’re right and he is luring his victims through the Internet, do you really think hooking up with him would be a wise thing to do? Hell, I wouldn’t send my best undercover into that lion’s den without plenty of backup.”
“I take my assignment seriously. I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Assignment! What assignment?”
“Unofficial agent investigating case number 29AW16.”
“Oh, brother.”
“Maybe he flirts with them in a chat room, but I doubt it. My guess is, he’s planted some goody on a bulletin board. He’d have thousands of chicks, worldwide, checking him out.”
“A global serial killer? That would be a stretch. I think you’re getting in a little too deep.”
“Since the killings are local, we can start with city ads. My program’ll sniff out the ferret. I’ve narrowed the list of ads down to 1,876. That’s where you come in.”
“How’s that?”
“You can have the Task Force continue the search.”
The girl might be on to something. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal used the Internet as his playing field. And if Moira was right, it would be a very deadly field. This was no place for a fourteen-year-old. Driscoll knew what he needed to do. He needed to protect the girl. “Moira, I want you off this case.”
“You’re not gonna make Captain without me.”
“I’ll look into the possibilities your theory raises. But we’re dealing with a vicious murderer. The last thing I want you to do is to try and hook up with him. If he turns out to be our killer, you’d be putting yourself in grave danger.”
“I know the highways and byways of the Internet better than anyone. I’m tellin’ ya, I can hook up with him.”
“And I forbid it. It’d be no place for a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“That’s it. Isn’t it?
“What’s it?”
“You don’t trust me just ’cause I’m a kid. You grownups are all alike. Afraid to admit that a kid might know more than they do.”
“Granted, you dazzle me with your computer expertise. But I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk.”
“I’m sure I’m right about this one. All the dead women were members of an online service.”