Free For Love or Vengeance by Caridad Piñeiro Page B

mouth. “What’s so good about it?”
    He didn’t take the bait. “Have we heard from the telecom provider yet?”
    He walked to his desk and set down his coffee and the brown paper bag with his bagel. Before she answered, which was likely to cause a twist in his stomach, he tore open the bag and unwrapped the bagel, intent on finally eating one of his breakfasts.
    “Not yet. It’s still too early,” she said, and turned to look pensively toward the long wall of windows at one end of the room.
    The days were growing shorter with the coming of autumn and beyond the glass, it was still dark outside. Dawn wouldn’t be for another hour or more. He glanced at his watch. Five o’clock. Five o’fuckin’ clock . He’d had less than a few hours’ sleep last night.
    Had she slept at all? Had she thought of him the way he had her?
    He studied her for a moment, and realized she looked fresh and alert.
    Apparently not .
    Their gazes connected briefly and she seemed about to say something. Instead, she just picked up her cup of coffee and went back to her papers.
    He did the same, taking a sip of his java. He would need that cup and more to keep him going through the day.
    Shifting aside his own coffee and bagel, he opened the case file and decided to review his notes on the various locations they had visited. The dump site of the latest victim stuck with him, maybe because, as Helene had pointed out, the buildings were so unique. Killers didn’t usually pick such conspicuous places, unless they were somehow tied to the act itself.
    For good measure, he printed out one of the NYPD photos of the crime scene location. Then he did the same for each of the first four victims. He realized every one of the locations was either unique or close to another building or object that caught his interest.
    By the time he finished his coffee and bagel, he had photos to add to those in their war room. He walked over to Helene’s desk. “I think I’ve got something. Want to talk about it?”
    She leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “Sure. In the war room?”
    With a bob of his head, he took off with photos in hand. From behind he heard the click-clack-click of her high heels as she followed. He went straight to the bulletin boards where they had tacked up the photos of the posed victims.
    Helene stood a few feet back, the distance telling. Normally, she would have stood right beside him, needing to be in the midst of things.
    Was she afraid to be close again because it might lead to a repeat of last night’s kiss?
    After he finished pinning up the photos, he tossed out his theory. “There’s something eye-catching about all of these locations. Tell me what you see.”
    She brought her hand to her mouth and rubbed her upper lip thoughtfully as she studied the photos. She pointed to the photo for victim number two. “The hull of a ship. The Intrepid, I’m guessing, from the battleship gray.”
    “That’s right,” he confirmed.
    Cocking one hip, she slapped her hand on it and tapped her lip again, tap-tap-tap. “All those fire escapes. It’s almost like art, the way they appear behind the body.”
    He nodded, and rapped on the photo from the last homicide with a knuckle. “And the castles you already pointed out, princess.”
    She shot him a warning glance, but a smile played on her lips. “Watch it, partner.”
    Taking back a step, she focused on a photo of a lower West Side pier. In the background was a collection of New York Sanitation Department buildings. He wasn’t sure if they’d be considered unique enough to rate with the views on the other photos.
    Helene apparently didn’t think so either. She wrinkled her nose as if she were smelling the trash. “NYSD garages? That doesn’t seem to fit.”
    With a heavy sigh, he agreed. “No, it doesn’t. But maybe the killer thought so. Whatever he’s saying with these poses, locations may be a key. He picked these places for a reason.”
    She nodded. Walking to the