Jonathan Santlofer - Anatomy of Fear

The PD had managed to keep the victim’s name out of the papers, and, more important, the drawing. If the press got hold of that piece of information, it would be a field day. And it was only a matter of time before some eager reporter sniffed it out. They always did. Terri knew it. Denton knew it too.

She turned the Post around to read it and Denton stopped her, his hand on top of hers.

“Is there a reason you’re here, Russo?”

She slipped her hand out from his and laid the sketch on his desk.

“What’s this?”

“A sketch by one of your men, a freelancer, a cop. Nate Rodriguez.”

“Yeah, I know who he is. Sketch artist. So what?”

“So the perp was caught. Detectives say they picked him up by the sketch alone.”

“Meaning what?

That it was a good sketch?”

“More than a good sketch. A great sketch. Perp’s been booked. Witness positive ID’d him.”

“So it was a great sketch.” Denton looked perplexed.

“Well, Rodriguez is an asset, a good cop.”

“What’s your point, Russo?”

“Rodriguez is being underused.”

Denton grinned. “Meaning you have an idea about how he should be used, that it?”

“Yes.” Terri took a deep breath. “I’d like to take him with me, let him talk to a few people around each of these vics, the ones found with the drawings-”

“Rodriguez? On the street? You shitting me?”

“No.”

“Wait a minute.” Denton leered. “What is it? You sweet on the guy?”

“Sweet on the guy? You been reading romance novels, Perry? But for the record, no, I’m not sweet on him. I think he can help with the investigation, that’s all. He’s a cop with a special talent.”

“A cop who spent what, three days on the job?”

Terri tried to collect her thoughts. She’d done her homework, stayed up late reading the files: Rodriguez’s college and police academy records, references from his stay at Quantico, all excellent. “He was top of his class, aced every course, Crime Scenes, Elements of Proof, Interviews and Interrogations, Communications-”

“I know the course work, Russo. So what?”

“There are letters in his file from over a dozen academy instructors, all testifying to the guy’s talent. Before the academy there was Hunter College, double major in psychology and art.” She put a hand up to keep Denton from interrupting. “And of course there’s the Quantico forensic art course, which included profiling, more psychology, more interview techniques, plus commendations from every Quantico instructor.”

“But the guy’s got no street creds, and-”

“I’m not asking him to shoot anyone. I just want him to do what he does, draw. You ever look at the stats on his success rate? One of two of his drawings has resulted in an arrest.”

“I’m impressed,” said Denton, voice flat.

“You should be. Half the PDs in the States call him in to do freelance work for them, Seattle, L.A., next week the Boston PD. We’re lucky to have him.” She paused to let that sink in. “Maybe he can come up with a sketch, a composite of our unsub.”

“But nobody’s seen our unsub; remember that part, Russo?”

“All I’m asking is to let me take Rodriguez to meet a few of the witnesses who-”

“-didn’t see anything.” Denton shook his head. Did he need this petty shit, now of all times? “Bet you didn’t take this up with your department chief because you knew he’d turn you down.”

“No, I didn’t because I’m asking you, Perry.”

“Forget it.”

“Look-”

“No, you look.” Denton pointed his finger at her like a gun. “I’ve got a city to take care of, and people to answer to. I’ve got a reputation to protect, you understand that, Russo?”

“Oh, yes. I understand all about protecting your reputation.” She didn’t have to spell it out and didn’t want to say what Denton already knew-that she could do him some real damage, though it would probably end both of their careers. She let it hang in the air a moment before she went back to Rodriguez. “The guy’s got a talent for getting people to talk, for drawing the pictures they have in their heads.”

“But nobody’s seen anything. Do I have to say it again?”

“Maybe someone saw something and they don’t even know it. I’ve seen what Rodriguez can do with a witness and a sketch. I’m just saying maybe he can add something.”

“So bring in whoever you can dig up and let Rodriguez work with them at the station.”

“I want him to talk to the witnesses on their own turf and I want him to get a feel for the scenes-the places where our unsub has struck.”

Denton stared down at his shoes. He seemed to be thinking about something else, but Terri didn’t know what.

“Hey, the G is going to be all over this any minute,” she said. “Wouldn’t you rather take care of it in-house? Isn’t that what we’d all like?”

“You think Rodriguez is our ticket to scooping the G? Because if that’s it, you’re too late. The G is already in. FO’s have already been assigned. Manhattan FBI wants everything we’ve got, case and lab reports, everything.”

“Shit.”

“It’s a done deal, Russo. Like so many things.” Denton gave her a leering, knowing smile.

“When does this go into action?”

“Now.” Denton sighed. “What the fuck, Russo. Let them have it if they want it. It can be their problem, not ours. ”

That last case Terri had worked with the feds started playing in her head, but she wasn’t about to quit. “So what about Rodriguez?”

“Isn’t that a moot point?”

“Are they sending in a profiler?”

“We’re on a waiting list.”

“That could be weeks.”

“Your point?”

“Rodriguez has a profiler’s mind.”

“But again, not the creds.”

“He’s Quantico-trained.”

“In fucking portrait painting.”

“Give me a break, okay, Perry? Let Rodriguez come with me, talk to a few people, do some drawings. If nothing pans out we haven’t lost anything.”

Denton decided to let her have her new toy, but didn’t feel like saying it yet. He was enjoying the fact that he had the power, that he could make her wait.

“Rodriguez has been around the PD for seven years, assisted on hundreds of homicides, rapes, and robberies-more than most cops ever get to work.”

“Making drawings, Russo.”

“And that’s all I want him to do. But I want him with me on the street to do it. Jesus, Perry, are you going to make me beg?”

Denton almost said yes, but he was getting tired of the game and had bigger things to worry about. “Okay, if you want this guy so bad.” He took a few steps closer and aimed a finger at her. “But anything fucks up, Russo, I’m holding you responsible. It’ll be your ass on the line, remember that.”

Terri Russo had called. She wanted me on the case. Just like that.

My grandmother would not agree that the call had come out of nowhere. She believed that everything happened for a reason. She would say that the spirit of the dead had brought Russo to me; that I had been beckoned by someone’s ori.

I looked around, a bit sorry it had beckoned me here of all places, to the morgue.

The smell of formaldehyde was leeching through my mask, the Vicks VapoRub smeared on my nostrils not quite doing the job. If I’m smelling death, am I also breathing it in? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that.