CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

" Sit down."

" I want to call Mr. Taggert."

" I already took care of that for you." Jake pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Rick stood by the door. Frankie Nichols leaned back in his chair, silent for the first time since they'd picked him up.

" Where were you night before last? "

" Working."

" All night? "

" Go in at eight, get off at six."

" Night before that? "

" Look, I work every night, eight to six, Monday through Friday."

" Where do you work? "

" Now, I know you already know where I work."

" What buildings, specifically, do you clean? "

" Downtown. Hell, I don't know the names. They just drop us off and pick us up."

Jake sighed. " When was the last time you saw Jena? "

He rubbed the stubble on his face, then looked up and shrugged. " She was at the trial. However long ago that was."

" And you never once saw her since you've been out? Six months now? "

" No."

" Didn't go sneaking around, maybe trying to catch a glimpse of her when she left her apartment? "

" No. I didn't. That's in the past. Besides, I'm not allowed to."

" Parole violation. Yes, I know." A knock on the door interrupted Jake, and Rick moved to open it.

" I need a word with you two, " Lieutenant Gregory said.

Jake shoved her chair away. " Stay put, " she told him. When she closed the door, Gregory handed her a file.

" He's not our guy, McCoy. Cut him loose."

" What the hell? "

" He's been a model employee. Never missed a shift."

" That means shit. They drop them off at a building at eight and pick them up at six the next morning. Plenty of time."

" Four people to a shift. Just so happens, one of the four in Frankie's group is a supervisor. Talked to him myself, and he says Frankie is his best employee and has never missed. So cut him loose. Salazar and Simpson are checking out the other two leads."

" Goddamn it! He's a janitor! He cleans! "

" Jesus Christ, McCoy! Will you let the soap thing go? "

" Not soap. Triclosan, " she murmured as he walked away. She turned to Rick. " Can you fucking believe this? "

" We got shit, Jake."

" Well it goddamn sucks, " she snapped as she walked away, leaving Rick to cut Frankie Nichols loose. She followed after the lieutenant, knocking once on his doorframe before walking in.

" McCoy? "

" It's about Dr. Westbrook. You got the report from last night? "

" Yeah. You want a detail? "

" At the very least, yes."

He shook his head. " That's all I can offer. We can't bring her in. We don't have the budget for that. Besides, we got no case."

Jake met his eyes. " She stayed at my place last night. I don't mind doing it again."

" Well, that's admirable, Detective. Not exactly orthodox."

" She was scared out of her mind. I couldn't very well leave her at her house."

He took his reading glasses off and stared at Jake. " There is nothing personal here, right? "

" Of course not. But I'm convinced that she's the target. If we can spare a unit to watch her office during the day, I don't mind taking the night shift. Of course, I haven't mentioned any of this to her. She may balk. But last night, she was plenty shook up."

" Until we get a suspect and something concrete, the DA won't touch it. And they're the ones with the budget for this sort of thing."

" Well, I'll run it by her."

He nodded. " I'll get a unit sent over to her office. You might want to brief them, let them know what we're looking for."

" Thanks, Lieutenant."

Nicole looked up at the light tapping on her door, then bent her head and continued writing.

" Come in, Catherine."

" Jake called. She wanted to let you know that there's going to be a police car in front of the building. And she said she would come by later. She needed to talk to you."

Despite everything that was going on, Nicole felt a smile tugging at her mouth. But she simply nodded without looking up. " Thanks."

Jake sat at her desk, twirling her pen. Gina and Simpson weren't back yet, and they hadn't heard from them. She reached out and fingered the mouse, lightly tapping on it as thoughts flew through her mind, bouncing off one another, not pausing long enough for her to follow up on them.

Nicole had a stalker before. No wonder she was freaked out.

Jake moved the mouse, wanting to search the database. But when she entered Nicole's name, there was no match. She then entered Nicole's address. Again, no match.

" That makes no sense, " she murmured.

" What? "

She looked at Rick and shook her head. " Nothing." She reached for the phone, dialing Nicole's office. Catherine answered on the second ring, her voice as professional as ever.

" It's me again, " Jake said. " Do you remember when she had the stalker? "

" Nicole? Yes. It wasn't very long after I started working for her. It must have been six years ago. Why? "

" Was she living at the house she's at now? "

" Yes. That's where it happened."

" What happened? "

" Well, the police shot him. Right in her yard."

" She told you or you went out there? "

" She told me. She was so upset, she stayed out of the office for a week. Of course, I wanted her to stay out before that because the guy was showing up here."

" In your office? "

" No. Outside. He'd follow her when she walked to the gym. He'd call, do the heavy breathing thing."

" Do you remember the guy's name? "

" Oh, no. I don't have a clue."

Jake sighed. " Okay. She's free after three, right? "

" Yes. And I told her you were coming by."

" Thanks, Catherine."

Jake went back to her search, wishing she had the exact date of the shooting. But it shouldn't matter. If she didn't get a hit on Nicole's name, at least her address should match. But it didn't. And if the guy had been stalking her, calling her, why hadn't Nicole reported it then? And why hadn't Nicole told her the whole story?

" What the hell are you doing? " Rick finally asked.

Jake looked up, frowning. " Dr. Westbrook said she had a stalker about six years ago. He showed up at her house and she called the cops, and they ended up shooting him, killing him, right there in her yard."

" No shit? Damn."

" Except there's nothing in the system. There's no match on her name or address."

" Well, that can't be. If there was a shooting, there's got to be a record of it."

Jake shrugged. " I'll ask her about it later." She leaned back and tried to stretch her leg. " Heard from Salazar or Simpson? "

" Yeah. They checked out Charles Ramsey. He's now in a wheel-chair, lives with his mother. He's found God or something."

Jake lifted an eyebrow.

" I know, but that's what Simpson said. The other guy, Steve Brousard, works as a mechanic. They were on their way to interview him."

Jake stared at him. " We got shit."

" I'd say."

" Maybe our angle is wrong. Maybe it's not a disgruntled former husband. Maybe it simply has to do with Dr. Westbrook."

" Maybe it's random."

" Nothing is random. Just like nothing is a coincidence."

" Four dead women. There'll be a task force before we know it."

Jake shook her head. " I don't think so. If we had some leads, maybe. But we don't, and a task force will just send him underground."

" How long do you think the lieutenant can keep the word 'serial killer' out of the papers? "

" Not much longer, that's for sure. One more body and I'd say the thing blows up."