Patricia Cornwell - From Potter's Field

'I bet that's her dog,' Maier said.

Commander Penn said, 'Can we tell what part of the world it was taken in?'

I studied the photograph more closely. 'It looks flat. It's sunny. I don't see any tropical foliage. It doesn't look like a desert.'

'In other words, it could be almost anywhere,' Marino said.

'Almost,' I said. 'I can't tell anything about the figure in the background.'

Commander Penn examined the photograph. 'A man, maybe?'

'It could be a woman,' I said.

'Yeah, I think it is,' said Maier. 'A real thin one.'

'So maybe it's Jane,' Marino said. 'She liked baseball caps, and this person has on some kind of cap.'

I looked at Commander Penn. 'I'd appreciate copies of any photographs, including this one.'

'I'll get them to you ASAP.'

We continued our excavation of this woman who seemed to be in the room with us. I felt her personality in her paltry possessions and believed she had left us clues. Apparently, she had worn men's undershirts instead of bras, and we found three pairs of ladies' panties and several bandannas.

All of her belongings were worn and dirty, but there was a suggestion of order and care in neatly mended tears, and the needles, thread and extra buttons she had kept in a plastic box. Only the black jeans and faded sweatshirt had been rudely wadded or were inside out, and we suspected this was because she had been wearing them when Gault forced her to disrobe in the dark.

By late morning, we had gone through every item with no success in getting closer to identifying the victim we had begun to call Jane. We could only assume that Gault got rid of any identification she might have carried, or else Benny had taken what little money she might have owned and disposed of what she had kept it in. I didn't understand the chronology of when Gault might have left the knapsack on Benny's blanket, if that was, in fact, what Gault had done.

'How much of this stuff are we checking for prints?' Maier said.

'In addition to the items we've already gotten,' I suggested, 'the tin whistle has a good surface for prints. You might try an alternate light source on the knapsack. Especially the inside of the flap, since it's leather.'

'The problem's still her,' Marino said. 'Nothing here's going to tell us who she is.'

'Well, I got news for you,' said Maier. 'I don't think identifying Jane's gonna help us catch the guy who killed her.'

I looked at him and watched his interest in her fade. The light went out of his eyes, and I had seen this before in deaths where the victim was no one. Jane had gotten as much time as she was going to get. Ironically, she would have gotten even less had her killer not been notorious.

'Do you think Gault shot her in the park, then went from there to the tunnel where her knapsack was found?' I asked.

'He might have,' Maier said. 'All he had to do was leave Cherry Hill and catch the subway at, say, Eighty-sixth or Seventy-seventh Streets. It would take him straight to the Bowery.'

'Or he could have taken a taxi, for that matter,' Commander Penn said. 'What he couldn't have done was walk. It's quite a distance.'

'What if the knapsack was left at the scene, right out there by the fountain?' Marino then asked. 'Possible Benny might have found it?'

'Why would he be in Cherry Hill at that hour? Remember what the weather was like,' Commander Penn said.

A door opened and several attendants wheeled in a gurney carrying Davila's body.

'I don't know why,' Maier said. 'Did she have her knapsack with her at the museum?' he asked Commander Penn.

1 believe it was mentioned that she had some sort of bag slung over one shoulder.'

'That could have been the knapsack.'

'It could have.'

'Does Benny sell drugs?' I asked.

'After a while you gotta sell if you're gonna buy,' Maier said.

'There may be a connection between Davila and the murdered woman,' I said.

Commander Penn watched me with interest.

'We shouldn't discount that possibility,' I went on. 'At a glance, it seems unlikely. But Gault and Davila were both down in that tunnel at the same time. Why?'

'Luck of the draw.' Maier stared off.

Marino didn't comment. His attention had drifted to autopsy table five, where two medical examiners were photographing the slain officer from different angles. An attendant with a wet towel scrubbed blood off the face in a manner that would have been rough could Davila feel. Marino was unaware anyone was watching him, and for a moment his vulnerability showed. I saw the ravages from years of storms, and the weight pressing his shoulders.

'And Benny was in that same tunnel, too,' I said. 'He either got the knapsack from the murder scene or from someone, or it was dropped on his blankets as he claims.'

'Frankly, I don't think it just turned up on his blankets,' Maier said.

'Why?' Commander Penn asked him.

'Why would Gault want to carry it from Cherry Hill? Why not just leave it and be on his way?' he said.

'Maybe there was something in it,' I said.

'Like what?' Marino asked.

'Like anything that might identify her,' I said. 'Maybe he didn't want her identified and needed a chance to go through her effects.'

'That could be,' Commander Penn said. 'Certainly we have found nothing among her belongings that would seem to identify her.'

'But in the past Gault hasn't seemed to care whether we identified his victims,' I said. 'Why care now? Why would he care about this head-injured, homeless woman?'

Commander Penn did not seem to hear me, and no one else answered. The medical examiners had begun undressing Davila, who did not want their help. He held his arms rigidly folded across his torso, as if blocking blows in football. The doctors were having a terrible time getting the commando sweater free of limbs and over his head when a pager went off. We involuntarily touched our waistbands, then stared toward Davila's table as the beeping continued.

'It's not mine,' one of the doctors said.

'Damn,' the other doctor said. 'It's his.'

A chill swept through me as he removed a pager from Davila's belt. Everyone was silent. We could not take our eyes off table five or Commander Penn, who walked there because this was her murdered officer and someone had just tried to call him. The doctor handed her the pager and she held it up to read the display. Her face colored. I could see her swallow.

'It's a code,' she said.

Neither she nor the doctor had thought not to touch the pager. They did not know it might matter.

'A code?' Maier looked mystified.

'A police code.' Her voice was tight with fury. 'Ten-dash-seven.'

Ten-dash-seven meant End of tour.

'Fuck,' Maier said.

Marino took an involuntary step, as if he were about to engage in a foot pursuit. But there was no one to chase that he could see.

'Gault,' he said, incredulous. He raised his voice. 'The son of a bitch must've got his pager number after he blew his brains all over the subway. You understand what that means?' He glared at us. 'It means he's watching us! He knows we're here doing this.'

Maier looked around.

'We don't know who sent the message,' said the doctor, who was completely disconcerted.

But I knew. I had no doubt.

'Even if Gault did it, he didn't have to see what was going on this morning to know what's going on,' Maier said. 'He would know the body was here, that we would be here.'

Gault would know that I would be here, I thought. He wouldn't have necessarily known the others would.

'He's somewhere where he just used a phone.' Marino glanced wildly around. He could not stand still.

Commander Penn ordered Maier, 'Put it on the air, an all-units broadcast. Send a teletype, too.'

Maier pulled his gloves off and angrily slammed them into a trash can as he ran from the room.