Robert Walker - Fatal Instinct

Rychman allowed the notion to settle in.

“ While we wait for that FBI guy to get here,” he continued, “I want each captain present to tell us in capsule form what his division has, and then I want assurances that this information will get to this computer.” He stopped to point to the machine. “This is the incident room and the only incident room on this case, gentlemen. Does everyone understand this?”

Everyone nodded and the various captains got up one at a time, each offering a few crumbs. The killer was very adept at leaving nothing whatever of himself behind. He appeared to be as swift and relentless as a gale-force wind.

Jessica could not fathom such callous disregard for life. One of the captains said, “You've got to remember the kind of area we're talking here. Nobody wants to get involved. They see a man hit a woman with a hammer, they think it's between the man and his wife, and that's that.”

“ The hammer blow is just the beginning,” said Rychman, “to render the victim defenseless. The actual murder occurs later. This guy drags his victim to a secluded area, usually a basement he has broken into, or below some stairwell, behind some cans, whatever, and there he takes out this incredible rage on the body.”

“ This guy is really sick… sicker than… than…” Louis Emmons began.

“… sicker than O’Toole at last year's annual?”

This brought some mixed laughter.

“ Sicker than that vampire creep the FBI stopped in Chicago last year,” finished the good-looking female detective.

Jessica felt it was time to come forward when Rychman regained the attention of the assembled men and women. “I'm Agent Coran, Dr. Jessica Coran, of the FBI crime lab,” she said.

Rychman's deep-set dark eyes narrowed, showing his displeasure at her having sat through the meeting to this point without identifying herself. She could also see that he was mentally flipping back through the files of his memory for any and all remarks he had made regarding the feds.

“ Bad assumption that the fed would be a man,” she replied. “Who did you think I was, the cleaning lady?”

“ Christ, I don't know everybody in the entire department. I thought… Well, never mind what I thought. Would you like ahh… to add to anything that has been said here?”

She turned to the assembled detectives, holding onto her cane. “We recently put away Gerald Ray Sims, and you may have read that he killed himself in his prison cell. I… I had seen him in the prison only days before. Sims and your Claw have much in common.” Her eyes scanned the room of silenced detectives.

“ His doctor-and I concur-believes that his other self, the murderous side of his personality, talked him into killing himself.”

“ We can only pray the Claw does the same,” said O’Toole.

“ Not likely so long as he's at large.”

She allowed this to sink in for a few moments before she calmly said, “My team was also responsible for the capture of Matthew Matisak.”

This brought about a great deal of murmuring as many in the room now realized exactly who Dr. Jessica Coran was. They had all read about the spectacular break in the vampire case and how she had been maimed in the process of catching Matisak.

“ So you can rest assured that my team and I are not exactly amateurs at this. At any rate, I'm glad to have been selected to help you here. We have the best forensics lab on the planet. If there's an iota of information that has been overlooked, our lab will find it. In the meantime, I have to concur with everything-almost everything-that Captain Rychman has had to say to you. It's vital that all areas of the city work in close harmony against this… creature.”

After the meeting broke up, Alan Rychman asked Jessica Coran into the adjacent office, which Eldritch had designated as his. Once they were alone, he said, “I didn't appreciate your little masquerade in there, Dr. Coran.”

“ I was informed that you were told of my-”

“ I'd say it's fairly apparent that I was unaware that you'd arrived. How long have you been in the city?”

“ I arrived late yesterday, took the evening to familiarize myself with the case-as much as possible, given the lack of information. I had a meeting with Commissioner Eldritch and was asked to be here this morning. No one notified me about last night's homicide.”

Rychman followed her speech with a series of “I sees.”

“ In the future, I'd like to be on the call list,” she added.

“ Whatever you say, Doctor.”

“ I'm anxious to help in whatever way possible.”

“ I guess you've seen this kind of thing before.”

“ A killer whose teeth imprints were lifted from the intestines of one of his victims? Not quite, but you might say I've seen enough ghouls so that I won't swoon.”

She had a tough line, he thought, appraising her. She was a stunning woman, even with the distraction of the cane. “Matisak's victims surely suffered longer, and Gerald Ray Sims may've been sicker than this freak we've got on our hands. Doctor, but the way this bastard operates, the way he leaves their bodies… it may even shock you.”

“ What's that supposed to mean, Captain? That my reputation has preceded me? That I'm unshakable? That you'd like to see me shake?”

She'd read a complete file on Rychman, who was bom in 1948 to working-class parents, the third of five children. He attended New York City schools, spent two years at John Jay College, dropped out for a stint in Vietnam and entered the Police Academy in 1973 on his return. He'd quickly risen through the ranks from patrolman to detective after a series of dazzling arrests. He moved from Vice to Homicide in '79 and had remained a homicide detective since. In 1989 he was named captain of the 31st Precinct, a precinct considered the worst in the city until he turned it around, making it immune to corruption and internal problems. Now the 31 st had one of the highest arrest rates in the city. He'd done so well with the 31st that he had since been moved to two other “dirty” precincts to clean them up, and he had succeeded admirably. She understood that his successes were due to his unrelenting na-ture and a hands-on style of management. He was called “the Boot” by men who served under him because he had given so many burned-out cops a kick in the ass.

He'd also been decorated for bravery under fire in two wars, Nam and New York. In some ways he reminded her of Otto Boutine; the two would have been either extremely close friends or archenemies, butting heads like a pair of rams, she decided.

“ Where're you staying?” he asked.

“ Marriott.”

“ Downtown? Nice if you can get it. Close, should a call come in.”

“ I hope that's not an indication of how vigorously you intend to pursue this case, Captain.”

He looked askance at her, confused. “What?”

“ By waiting for a call.” She picked up her cane and her bag, making for the door.

He thought of pursuing her, setting her straight, but tossed a disdainful wave in her direction instead, letting her go. But then she stuck her head back inside.

“ Yes?”

“ I'll want a copy of the forensics report on the sixth victim. Can you direct me?”

“ I'll see you get a copy. It'll be on my desk sometime today.”

“ Is Archer or Darius the M.E. on the case?”

“ Fellow name of Perkins.”

“ Hmmmm, I see. New?”

“ Not exactly, but first time he's done a Claw crime scene. Seems Archer was occupied elsewhere and Darius… well, he's been under the weather lately.”

“ There's been no continuity.”

“ You might say that, yes.”

“ The only constant at all the scenes has been the killer. The M.E.'s office has been playing musical chairs.”