Макс Коллинз - No One Will Hear You

“So... if I were to bring you, say, a hair from a crime scene...?”

Chris frowned at her. “But wouldn’t bringing us evidence from a homicide break your chain of custody?”

She smiled at Chris in a tight, businesslike fashion. “The chief himself has given us permission to utilize whatever resources your show can provide.”

Jenny said, “Cool.”

Still not wholly on board, Chris said, “Ma’am, that doesn’t answer my question about chain of custody.”

Amari arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you, technically at least, still on leave from Shaw and Associates?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, handing evidence to an employee of a certified lab wouldn’t be breaking chain of custody, would it?”

“No. No, it wouldn’t.”

Harrow assigned several other duties to various team members, then said to the group, “We have two homicidal maniacs preying on innocent citizens of this city. Let’s nail these bastards before either of them kills again.”

They were about to break up when Byrnes cleared his throat and all eyes went to him; a few people who were getting up sat back down.

“I’m pleased to see Crime Seen and the LAPD working together,” the network president said. His voice had an unsettling surface calm. “But we need to discuss the network’s response — and your show’s response.”

Harrow said, “The priority here is stopping these—”

“Fine! Yes, of course. But we have a madman who has dumped his grotesque handiwork, as has been noted, on our very doorstep. So I want you, J.C., to record a video that can go out immediately to every national news outlet, network and cable, stating simply that all the resources of Crime Seen’s superstar forensics team will be brought to bear upon the serial killer calling himself Don Juan.”

Raising a finger, Chris said, “Uh, sir — the FBI won’t consider Don Juan a serial killer until he has accumulated three victims, and—”

“Mr. Anderson,” Byrnes said acidly, “I don’t believe semantics is our concern right now. And this is not a request or a suggestion. J.C. — I don’t often say this, but this is an order .“

All eyes went to Harrow.

“Fine,” Harrow said.

All eyes went to Byrnes.

“What?” Byrnes said.

All eyes went to Harrow.

“You’re right, Dennis. Give him a little attention, and maybe we can save a life, or at least slow him down a little.”

Amari said firmly, “You’re not broadcasting any Don Juan videos.”

Harrow said, “Not suggesting that. If we appear to be conceding, he might demand even more.”

“Such as?” Byrnes asked.

“He wants to be a regular segment on our show, doesn’t he, Dennis? And what does Crime Seen do, during a sweeps week? To generate our top ratings? Our biggest audience?”

“Oh Christ,” Byrnes said.

“Right,” Harrow said. “Show that video, and we’re on the path to Don Juan demanding we broadcast his next kill live.”

Amari hated interviewing other cops. First, they were a tight-mouthed group when it came to talking about their own. Second, they spent so much time with lying lowlifes, they became masters of the craft themselves.

Chief Scovill at the Santa Monica Police Department, however, was friendly and cooperative, providing a look into Danny Terrant’s file, which included neither commendations nor complaints. The chief also gave them the officer’s cell phone number, so Amari could run the phone records.

In the hallway outside Scovill’s office, Polk said, “I don’t think that guy ever met Danny Terrant.”

“No argument,” Amari said.

Next up was Terrant’s partner, Bobby Nucci. They caught up with the youngish, dark-haired uniformed officer in Chess Park, just south of famed Muscle Beach. As they walked, a radio blared hip-hop, cars rolled by on Ocean Avenue, and chess players hunkered in silence under a warm sun in a gentle breeze.

“Danny was kind of a loner,” Nucci said. “Don’t get me wrong — we always got along fine, and he was aces as a partner... But he never let anybody get close.”

She asked, “Not even his own partner?”

“I knew him going back to the academy, and he kept to himself back then. Nice, friendly, but on his own. We partnered up, what, two years ago? And I still don’t know shit about his personal life.”

Amari was wondering if she should just come right out with it when Polk blurted: “So was he gay?”

Nucci shot him a look. “I didn’t say that.”

Polk said, “We’re not attacking him, Officer Nucci. It’s a murder investigation. Somebody killed your partner, and you want the bastard caught and we want the bastard caught.”

“Of course we all want that. But truth is... I just don’t know if Danny was gay. I don’t think he was, but... I don’t really know.”

Amari said, “Partners two years, and you can’t hazard an informed guess about whether or not the guy was straight?”

“If he had a girlfriend, I never saw her. If he had a boyfriend I never saw him.”

Polk said, “Did he seem to like the ladies?”

Nucci shrugged. “If I’d say, ‘Wow, nice rack’... sorry, Lieutenant, just making a point... he’d say, ‘Yeah, sure is’ or some such. But he was never the one pointing out the nice rack, if you know what I mean.”

She knew. “I take it you two didn’t socialize away from the job.”

“Not hardly at all. Like I said, Danny was private, and me, I got a wife and two baby girls — twins.”

Polk said, “Got your hands full.”

“Do we ever. Anyway, I’ll say this for Danny. He saw I was worn down by a busy home life — midnight feedings, you know? And I always knew he had my back. Just because we didn’t hang out off the job, that don’t mean I didn’t value the guy.”

Amari asked, “You have no idea why he kept so much to himself?”

“Only thing I can think of — he was a tall, skinny dude, and he got some ribbing over it. Some guys, when they get a hard time like that, on the job? They give it right back. Other guys, they kind of pull in. Danny pulled in.”

Polk pressed. “But you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was—”

“Look , man — if he was gay or bisexual or a goddamn Ken doll down below, what the hell’s it to me? He was my partner — dude probably saved my life very day he got killed.”

“Yeah?”

Nucci told them the story of the domestic call that had turned dangerously violent.

“Sounds like a stand-up guy,” Amari said. “I know you want to protect him, but he’s past that now. If you know something about his private life, hiding it from—”

“You think if I had the faintest idea how this could have happened to Danny I wouldn’t tell you? I loved him as a partner. As a brother. You two don’t look like you hang out together, off the job — but I’d bet my next paycheck you watch each other’s backs.”

There was nothing to say to that.

They collected a few names of other officers with whom Terrant had been friendly (a short list); then Amari handed the cop her card.

She and Polk were heading back to the car when Nucci called after them.

They met each other halfway.

Nucci waved Amari’s card at her. “This reminded me — while back, we got business cards from this robbery victim. She runs a western store on the Third Street Promenade.”

Polk said, “This sticks out in your memory why?”

“We responded to the alarm, Danny and me. Caught the guy, woman got her money back.”

“Okay,” Amari said patiently.