Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

"Handcuff the whore to the bed," the one with the gun says. The other manhandles her down in her dazed state, grabbing her wrists and--

"Ow! Fucking CUNT!" he yells. "Cow scratched me!"

"Then cuff her, for fuck's sake!"

He smashes her stomach again and forces one wrist to the bed, cuffing it. Then the next.

Perhaps she did it while he cuffed her legs. Perhaps it took her longer, something she concentrated on through her terror and torture and rape. I can see it.

Everything is pain and fear and a red haze. They're going to kill her. She knows it. She's read about it. But because she's read, she knows about DNA. Knows what she has under her fingernail.

She pushes against the nail with her thumb, pushes, hard, hard, harder, pray- ing they won't notice, until--

Snap. It breaks off, painless. She can't hear it fall to the rug. But some part of her mourns as it leaves her. It will live on after this, in a way. She won't. She turns her gaze to the one with the gun, and he smiles. She closes her eyes, and begins to weep, and thinks about the fingernail. She knows she'll never see it again.

I stand up, feeling like a cold wind just blew through me. I look down at Charlotte.

"I found it," I whisper to her. "Right where you left it for me."

"Some sorry, sick stuff," Barry mutters. "I never seem to get used to it."

I glance at him. "That's probably a good thing, Barry."

He starts, looks at me. Then smiles a faint smile. "Yeah."

Callie and Gene are getting ready to go inside. I had told everyone about the fingernail.

"They won't take long, so go ahead and get your CSU guys over here, Barry. Kick their ass, and get me that report. Please. I'll make sure there's a quid pro quo. I'm pretty sure these guys are local. If it's at all possible, I'll have you there when we take them down."

He shakes his head. "Appreciate the thought, Smoky, but don't worry about it. This is one of those kinds of cases. Where you don't care who catches them, as long as they get caught."

"How about we just agree to keep each other in the loop and leave it at that?"

"That works for me."

"So what exactly do you want us to do here?"

Gene has a mixed look of exasperation on his face as he asks this--

excitement and annoyance. He's excited to be out in the field for the first time in a long while, but he is annoyed that it is not "his scene" in its entirety. He cannot own it.

"I want anything immediate that will give me an edge on catching this guy. LAPD CSU is competent. They'll do the heavy lifting. I want you guys to skim the surface and see if there's anything here that will help us now."

"You want us to collect the fingernail?" Callie asks. I balk at this. "Will we get faster DNA results?"

"Yes."

"Then take it. But you'll have to stay here until CSU arrives and log it in. Let's not screw up a conviction later because we messed up the chain of evidence."

Gene looks over at Callie. "You want the camera or the UV light?"

"I'll take the camera."

Callie will be photographing the scene--in particular, anything they touch or remove, before they do so. Gene is going to be using a small, handheld UV emitter. It is a smaller version of the UV scope that Callie used in Annie's apartment, and it will help show evidence of blood, semen, hair, and other fluids.

"Let's go."

They walk in and I follow. It's my turn to be ignored, as they move in a dance that reminds me of James and me.

Callie sniffs the air. "What do you think, honey-love? Three days dead?"

"That would be my approximation."

Callie snaps some wide shots of the body, including the bagged organs. Gene moves toward the Baggies and waves the UV wand over and around them. "No signs of prints." He glances at me. "Though that's cursory, not conclusive."

They turn toward the body. Callie takes more photos. Gene leans over to inspect Charlotte's right hand. "See the missing-nail area?" he says to Callie.

She responds by shooting a series of photos.

"The nail is on the carpet, between the bed and the wall," I say. Callie squats down and takes some photos of the nail. "It looks like there may be some blood and tissue on it, Gene." She takes a few more photos.

He kneels and passes the wand under the bed. "There is a lot of particulate under here," he says. "I don't really want to disturb anything other than the nail . . ." He hands Callie the wand and reaches into a pocket, pulling out a pair of tweezers and a small evidence Baggie. I watch as he stretches, trying to contact as little of the carpet as possible while retrieving the nail. After a moment, he straightens back up, holding the evidence Baggie. "There could be DNA here."

"How long?" I ask.

Gene shrugs. "Twenty-four hours." I start to protest, and he waves me off. "That's superrush, Smoky. Twenty-four hours, period."

I sigh. "Fine."

He takes the wand back from Callie and passes it over Charlotte, starting at her head, moving down to her neck, the open chest cavity, her legs. He stands up. "I don't see immediate evidence of seminal fluid on the body. Blood is everywhere, of course. No way to draw any conclusions on that with the naked eye."

Callie takes some more photos.

"I think your best, most immediate lead is going to be any DNA on the fingernail," he says to me. "And as there appears to have been a struggle, I'll tell LAPD CSU to take extra care on collecting trace, especially with the bra and panties."

"That's it?"

"For now, honey-love," Callie answers. "But the nail has potential, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." I look at my watch. It's almost 11:00 P.M. "I have to go and meet that security specialist at my house, Callie. You guys stay here and wait for CSU. Gene-- please --get right onto the DNA."

"As fast as I can."

He looks down at Charlotte. She is still screaming.

H OW IS SHE?"I ask. I sound tired, even to myself.

"She's fine. Woke up in the afternoon, and we watched a little bit of TV. She helped me make dinner. Normal stuff. She's asleep now."

"Elaina . . ." I hesitate.

"She can stay here tonight, Smoky. I was going to recommend it. Besides, you sound exhausted, and there's no reason to wake her up."

Good ol' empathy. I feel guilty, but not enough to turn her offer down.

"Thanks. I am tired. But I won't make a habit of it, I promise. And I'll call her in the morning."

"Get some sleep, Smoky."

Would I have left Alexa with Elaina under the same circumstances, I wonder as I drive? I shove this thought aside. Push it into a closet, lock the door, sell the house the closet's in.

I arrive home just after eleven. God, it has been a marathon day. Tommy is already here. His timeliness doesn't surprise me. Punctuality isn't a learned trait for him, it's a part of his core personality. He gets out of his car as I pull up, walks over to me. Indicating that I need to roll down my window, which I do.

"Pull into the garage," he says. "They could be watching. When you're in the garage, don't say anything until I sweep it for bugs."

"Got it."

I hit the door opener and pull the car in. He follows me after a moment, carrying a backpack. I turn off the car and get out. I watch in silence as he does an electronic sweep for bugs, using a high-dollar device that can sweep all frequencies up to four gigahertz. He takes his time, slow, methodical, and entirely focused. This takes almost ten minutes. Once he's completed this, he starts a physical inspection. It's not enough to sweep for bugs. You have to look for them as well.

I lean back and watch him work, give him the once-over. I have not seen Tommy in years. He looks amazing, as always. Tommy's heritage is Latin, and he is handsome in a very Latin way. Black, wavy hair. Deep, dark eyes. He has a slight imperfection, a small scar at his left temple, which somehow makes him more attractive. He's not rugged and he's not pretty. He's somewhere in between, and it looks good on him. He is to men what Callie is to women. He doesn't have the same gusto she has; he is defined more by his comfort with stillness and silence. When he sits, listening to you, he never fidgets, twiddles his thumbs, or taps his feet. It's not that he's stiff. On the contrary, he appears to be relaxed, at ease. It's more that he doesn't feel a need to move. All the motion is in his eyes. Always intent, interested, alert. I assume that this comes from his history as a Secret Service agent. Stillness and watching go hand in hand in that profession.