Erica Spindler - Copy Cat

M.C. frowned. “Last time he called them his ‘perfect’ crimes as well. Obviously, that’s important to him.”

“He’s arrogant,” Kitt said. “He’s pissed that this guy is copying his work-”

White stepped in. “And being damn sloppy about it.”

“In his opinion,” Riggio murmured.

“Yes.” Kitt paused a moment. “I asked him if he knew who the Copycat was. He said ‘maybe.’”

Sal steepled his fingers. “Do you think he really does and is being coy? Or that he suspects but isn’t certain?”

“At this point, I’m not certain. If I had to wager a guess, I think he’s being coy.”

“Because he’s playing a game with you,” Riggio agreed. “His words.”

“Yes. A game he called ‘fun.’”

“If the Copycat makes the mistakes Peanut claims he will, we’ll get him.”

Kitt flinched at the other detective’s use of Sadie’s nickname, though she acknowledged that she had better get used to it. This wouldn’t be the last time.

“But another girl will die,” White offered. “Maybe more than one.”

Kitt cleared her throat. “We’re forgetting another thing here. If he’s telling me the truth, we have two killers to catch. The SAK and his copycat.”

The room grew silent. Sergeant Haas looked at his superior. “What’s your recommendation, Sal?”

“Give him what he wants. Play along.”

Riggio jumped in. “With all due respect, Chief, I disagree.”

The deputy chief turned to her. “He called here, this morning. Said he was looking forward to seeing Kitt on TV.”

“On television?” White asked. “What did he mean by that?”

“Press conference,” Sal offered. “For whatever reason, he wants Kitt working the case and he wants proof we complied with his demand.”

Riggio spoke up. “Clearly, this man’s made it his business to educate himself about Detective Lundgren. He’s gone to great lengths to involve her in this ‘game.’” She looked at Kitt. “My question is, why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seems to me, that’d be an important thing to find out.”

“Agreed.” Sal moved his gaze between the group. “Tom, I’m temporarily reassigning you. Riggio, it’s you and Kitt on this one. Kitt’s lead.”

Riggio made a sound of protest. “Lead? This is my case. Let her assist, but don’t-”

“My decision’s final. Sorry, Riggio.” He turned to Kitt. “Are you up to this? It’s only round one and he’s calling himself by your daughter’s nickname.”

“I can handle it.”

He nodded. “Then, let’s get busy. Call a press conference for this afternoon. Keep it simple. A straightforward FYI.”

They filed out of the office. When they cleared the chief’s hearing range, Kitt stopped Riggio. “This is going to get intense. It’ll be important we work together, as a team.”

“You don’t need to lecture me, Detective. I have my priorities straight.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“With that said, do you really think you’re ready to lead a major homicide investigation?”

“I said I’m ready, and I am.”

Riggio shook her head. “Do you even know what that means anymore? The pressure of being under the departmental microscope? The press hounding you? The public demanding results? And we’re not talking just any case, the case?”

Kitt didn’t flinch, though a small seed of doubt bloomed inside her. “I’m ready,” she said again.

Riggio leaned toward her. “It’s my ass on the line with this one, too. I need a partner I trust watching my back.”

“I’ll be watching it,” Kitt muttered. “Better than any partner you’ve ever had.”

“Somehow, I have a hard time believing that.”

Kitt watched Riggio walk away. She didn’t blame the woman for her skepticism. Would she want her for a partner? With her history? Would she be able to trust?

Hell, no.

But none of this was her doing. A killer had singled her out for fun and games. He had demanded her participation, for what reason she didn’t yet know.

She could have turned him down. Or pretended to play along. But she hadn’t even considered either an option. From the moment another child had turned up dead, she’d wanted on the case.

Was she making a good, objective choice here? Or was she letting her own need to nail this guy rule her, thus jeopardizing the case?

Brian knew her better than anyone on the force. They had been partners for years; he had been with her as she’d slid deeper and deeper into the bottle-and into despair.

She trusted him completely. To be straight with her, no punches pulled.

She found him in his office, also located on two, just down the hall from the shift commander.

She tapped on his door. “Hey, partner. Got a minute?”

“For you? Always.” He waved her in. She took a seat and he sent her one of his trademark broad smiles. “What’s up?”

“Wanted to run something by you.”

“Shoot.” He leaned back in his chair, waiting.

“The guy called me again.”

“The one claiming to be the SAK?”

“The very one. On my cell phone. Asked me to call him Peanut.”

Brian was quiet a moment, as if processing all the ramifications of that. “How are you with that?”

“Royally pissed off.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

She filled him in on the conversation, sharing how the man had proved his identity.

“Sal put you on the case.”

It wasn’t a question; she answered, anyway. “Yes.”

“And Riggio’s not happy about it.”

“An understatement.” Kitt shifted her gaze, frowning. “Which brings me to you. Am I doing the right thing, going along with this? Am I ready?”

“Seems to me you don’t have a choice. This guy’s brought you onboard, like it or not.”

“Maybe.” She stood, crossed to a wall of photos. There was one of the two of them, receiving a commendation from the mayor. That’d been more than a lifetime ago. There was one of Brian and Scott Snowe from ID at a press conference last year. She remembered it. She’d been on leave, had watched with everybody else-on the News at Five. They had obtained the fingerprints of a “floater” recovered from the Rock River by actually peeling the skin from the corpse’s hand intact. The victim had been identified as the missing wife of a prominent city official-and her identification had quickly led to the husband’s arrest for her murder.

The press had been all over it.

And Brian had gotten bumped to lieutenant.

She turned and faced him once more. “I don’t trust my instincts, Brian. I’m afraid to. Last time-”

“You saved that little girl’s life, Kitt.”

“But I let him get away. Another girl died.”

“Maybe two more would have died. You don’t know.”

“I screwed up.”

“Yeah, you did. But what about today?”

She made a sound of frustration. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Have you screwed up today?”

“Hell no.”

“Then let the past go. You were a great partner, Kitt. I counted on you, and until Sadie died and your world fell apart, you never let me down.”

“I’m not the cop I was back then. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“So?” He leaned forward. “Has it occurred to you that you might be a better one?”

It hadn’t.

“You’re going to have to prove yourself, Kitt. To Riggio. To Sal and the rest of the department. But most of all, you’re going to convince you.”

“I have to do this, don’t I?”

“That’s the way I see it.” He paused; when he spoke again, his tone was low, deep with emotion. “Go slow. Trust your instincts, but not blindly. I’ll be here for you. Anything you need.”