Joel Goldman - The Dead Man

I lifted her head into my lap, her glassy eyes struggling to focus, her voice weak and feathery.

"Daddy?"

"I'm here, baby."

"You found me. I knew you would." She reached for my collar, pulling me close, her breath shallow, her face pale. "It's Monkey Girl."

"I know it's you, baby. Hang on. You're going to be okay."

She squeezed my hand. "No I'm not, Daddy, but I love you and I'm glad you found me."

And she was gone, an improbable smile her last gift.

"Jack! Jack! Are you okay?" I looked up to see Lucy bulling her way through the crowd that had materialized. "Oh, my God! I was on my way to the institute and I saw you chasing him down the hill. Who is he? I can't believe he ran into all that traffic. He didn't have a chance."

As she helped me to my feet, I started to shake, tidal waves ripping through me. I held onto her, my head on her shoulder, my knees buckling. She wrapped her arms around me, keeping me upright as my legs gave way, steering me out of the intersection.

"My daughter, Wendy," I said when we reached the curb and I caught my breath, "I found her in New York just before she died of an overdose. She's drifting down Forty-second Street and a kid blows past her on a skateboard, knocks her into a guy who shoves her into a lamppost, and then she spins into the street, practically melts onto the pavement. I got to her, knelt down, and lifted her head up. She looks at me, tells me it's Monkey Girl, like I don't know who she is."

"Monkey Girl. You lost me."

"It was her nickname when she was a little girl. I gave it to her and she gave it to a stuffed monkey I bought her. Anyway, she says it's Monkey Girl and then she dies, but she's smiling, same as Leonard. Neither one of them had a reason to, but they died smiling. Go figure."

My legs buckled again and another pair of hands grabbed me.

"Let me help," Milo Harper said.

They lifted me, one of my arms across each of their shoulders, and dragged me to a bus stop bench, propping me up. I gulped choppy breaths, aftershocks doubling me over.

An EMT dropped to one knee in front of me. "You okay, buddy?"

I waved him off. "It'll pass. It'll pass."

The EMT looked at Lucy who nodded. "Happens every time he chases someone into an intersection," she said, satisfying the EMT.

"Okay, okay," I said a few moments later when my legs were back and I had stopped shaking. "Let's get out of here."

They hung close to me as we walked around the intersection where crime scene techs were taking pictures and measurements while drivers gave their statements and television news crews made their living.

"Hey, Davis," McNair yelled, making his way over to us. "It doesn't get easier than this, does it? Looks like I'll be home for dinner."

Milo squeezed my arm. "You owe me for that stunt you pulled in the elevator."

"More like you owe me," I said.

He nodded and grinned. "I know."

I filled Lucy in as we walked back to the institute, taking the long way around to the front entrance where reporters swarmed Milo. He and I exchanged shrugs and I left him to work his magic.

"You think Leonard killed Anne or was he running because everyone thought he did and he was afraid of getting busted for not registering as a sex offender?" Lucy asked when were inside the lobby.

"I don't know."

"Is there anything to connect him with Blair, Delaney, and Enoch or is this a stand-alone murder?"

"He hacked into the dream project files but I don't know if he saw their videos. That's all I've got so far."

The lobby was crammed with cops and people waiting for the elevators. Each time one opened, the crowd grew as those passengers joined the throng, finding their friends, hugging and crying, trading can-you-believe-it for I'm-not-surprised.

Nancy Klemp was on duty at the front desk, implacable and unruffled by the chaos around her, answering questions and giving directions.

"What's the latest?" I asked her.

"Ms. Fritzshall went on the PA and told everyone to go home. Said to take the day off tomorrow and come back strong on Thursday. We've got six elevators and eight floors of people. Gonna take forever to clear everyone out of here. I wouldn't be in a hurry to get upstairs unless you feel like walking."

"What happened with Anne's boyfriend, Michael Lacey? Is he still in the conference room?"

"I haven't seen him leave."

Lucy and I navigated through the crowd to the conference room. The door was open. Lacey was slumped over the table, his head on his folded arms. A uniformed cop stood in a corner. Carter tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I hadn't heard him approach.

"You did good out there," Carter said.

"I was too old and too slow. What about him?" I asked, pointing to Lacey.

"I told him he could hang out here until the TV trucks take off. He doesn't want to deal with the cameras."

I stepped farther down the hall away from the door, drawing Carter with me. "You satisfied about Leonard?"

He opened his jacket and pulled out an evidence bag, holding it up for me. Anne Kendall's Institute ID badge was inside the bag, the gold chain smeared with blood.

"We found this hidden in Leonard's desk. That satisfy you?"

"Makes me feel better. Doesn't make me feel good. Lacey have an alibi?"

"Says he was home and fell asleep watching TV. Thought she was working late. Woke up this morning and she wasn't there. Said he started making phone calls and then got one from the gal at the front desk."

"That's thin. Were they getting along?"

"So he says. We'll check it out," Carter said.

"Does that mean you aren't satisfied or that you're just running the traps?"

Carter smiled. "McNair is satisfied, but he's easy. I'm harder to please. Lacey says that Anne told him about her sexual harassment complaint against Leonard. He could have forced her to take him to the institute and used her ID to get in the building, killed her, and planted the ID in Leonard's desk, figuring that plus the complaint would be enough to put the stink on Leonard."

"On that theory, Leonard turning out to be an unregistered sexual offender was an added bonus."

"Better to be lucky than good. Could have gone down that way, but my money is still on Leonard," Carter said. "This Lacey doesn't seem the type. He was blown away when we told him she was dead. I know that doesn't mean much but it felt real to me."

"You interested in another take?"

"Why not? I could use the overtime."

"Let's go upstairs to my office."

"Are you kidding? Have you seen how many people are in line for those elevators?"

"Wait here. I know a short cut."

I found Milo surrounded by a throng of reporters, peeling him away long enough to ask how to summon his private elevator to the loading dock. He pulled out his iPhone, tapped in a number, and smiled.

"Phone activated. It's on the way. How about that?" he said, turning back to the cameras.

The eighth floor was empty when Lucy, Carter, and I reached my office except for the crime scene techs poring over Leonard's workstation. I described the dream project for Carter, walking him through the deaths of Blair, Delaney, and Enoch, and the increasing pattern of violence culminating in Anne's murder.

"You got a whole lot of nothing, you know that," Carter said.

"I don't have a guy who harassed one of the victims, ran when the cops showed up, and had the victim's bloody ID squirreled away in his desk, which, I might add, is the dumbest place he could have picked to hide a souvenir. That's enough for McNair but not for you. I do have three dead people, four counting Anne Kendall, and a lot of questions that nobody seems interested in asking."