where all the older kids were streaming in. She gave us both hugs good-bye, and I held on a little longer than usual. "I love you, sweetie. There's nothing more special to me than you and your brothers."
Jannie couldn't help but look around to make sure no one had heard. "Me too, Daddy," she said. Then, almost in the same breath, "Cherise! Wait up!"
As soon as Jannie was gone, Bree took my arm in hers. "So what was that?" she said. ' "Everybody knows you and Bree love each other'?"
I shrugged and smiled. "What do I know? That's the big rumor going around, anyway."
I gave her a kiss.
And because that worked out so well, I gave her another.
Chapter 6
B Y NINE A.M. I was all kissed out and getting ready to enter a most unpleasant multiple-homicide briefing at the Daly Building. It was being held in the large conference room right across from my office. Handy, anyway. Every available D-1 and D-2, and a contingent from Second District, which covered most of Georgetown, would be there.
I still couldn't get it in my head that Ellie was the victim. One of the victims.
The ME's Office had sent over a representative in the person of Dr. Paula Cook, a bright investigator who had the personality of tapioca pudding. The corners of Dr. Cook's mouth actually twitched when we shook hands. I think it was an attempted smile, so I smiled back. "Thanks for coming, Paula. We need you on this one."
"Worst I've seen," she said, "in fourteen years. All those kids, the parents. Turns my stomach. Senseless."
We had picked up a stack of crime scene photos on the way in, and now Paula and I pinned some of them up in the situation room. I made sure they were all 11 x 14s. I wanted everyone to feel some of what had happened last night in Georgetown, the way I still did.
"This might be an isolated incident," I stood in front and told the assembled group a few minutes later. "But I'm not going to assume it is. The more we understand, the more prepared we'll be if this happens again. It might not be an isolated incident." I figured some of the more jaded homicide detectives wouldn't agree; they'd be thinking I'd worked one too many serial cases. I didn't much care what they thought at that point.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, I ran through the primary facts of the case for those who hadn't been there the night before. Then I turned it over to Paula. She bounced up and talked us through the photos on the wall.
"The cutting styles indicate a variety of weapons, strength, and ability," she said, using a red laser pointer to highlight the slashes, punctures, and severing that had been done to the Cox family.
"At least one blade had a serrated edge. One was unusually large — possibly a machete. The amputations, wherever they occurred, were never done cleanly. Rather, they were the result of repetitive trauma."
A detective named Monk Jeffries asked a pretty good question from the front row. "You think they were practicing? Had never done this before?"
"I couldn't say," Paula told him. "Wouldn't surprise me."
"Yeah," I put in. "It's like they were practicing, Monk." I had my own opinion about the murders. "There's something very young about this crime scene."
"As in inexperienced?" Jeffries asked.
"No. Just young. I'm talking about the cutting, the broken bed, the vandalism in general. Also the fact that this was probably done by a group of five or more. That's a big group of intruders. When I intersect all those factors, I get a few possibilities: gang, cult, OC. In that order."
"Gang?" another D-1 asked from the back. "You ever see gang violence like this massacre?"
"I've never seen violence like this, period," I said.
"I've got twenty bucks on OC. Any takers?" It was Lou Copeland, a competent but thoroughly obnoxious D-1 with Major Case Squad. A few of his cronies laughed.
Not me. I threw my clipboard across the room. It struck the wall and fell onto the tile. That wasn't like me, so it made an impression.
The room was quiet. I
Jannie couldn't help but look around to make sure no one had heard. "Me too, Daddy," she said. Then, almost in the same breath, "Cherise! Wait up!"
As soon as Jannie was gone, Bree took my arm in hers. "So what was that?" she said. ' "Everybody knows you and Bree love each other'?"
I shrugged and smiled. "What do I know? That's the big rumor going around, anyway."
I gave her a kiss.
And because that worked out so well, I gave her another.
Chapter 6
B Y NINE A.M. I was all kissed out and getting ready to enter a most unpleasant multiple-homicide briefing at the Daly Building. It was being held in the large conference room right across from my office. Handy, anyway. Every available D-1 and D-2, and a contingent from Second District, which covered most of Georgetown, would be there.
I still couldn't get it in my head that Ellie was the victim. One of the victims.
The ME's Office had sent over a representative in the person of Dr. Paula Cook, a bright investigator who had the personality of tapioca pudding. The corners of Dr. Cook's mouth actually twitched when we shook hands. I think it was an attempted smile, so I smiled back. "Thanks for coming, Paula. We need you on this one."
"Worst I've seen," she said, "in fourteen years. All those kids, the parents. Turns my stomach. Senseless."
We had picked up a stack of crime scene photos on the way in, and now Paula and I pinned some of them up in the situation room. I made sure they were all 11 x 14s. I wanted everyone to feel some of what had happened last night in Georgetown, the way I still did.
"This might be an isolated incident," I stood in front and told the assembled group a few minutes later. "But I'm not going to assume it is. The more we understand, the more prepared we'll be if this happens again. It might not be an isolated incident." I figured some of the more jaded homicide detectives wouldn't agree; they'd be thinking I'd worked one too many serial cases. I didn't much care what they thought at that point.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, I ran through the primary facts of the case for those who hadn't been there the night before. Then I turned it over to Paula. She bounced up and talked us through the photos on the wall.
"The cutting styles indicate a variety of weapons, strength, and ability," she said, using a red laser pointer to highlight the slashes, punctures, and severing that had been done to the Cox family.
"At least one blade had a serrated edge. One was unusually large — possibly a machete. The amputations, wherever they occurred, were never done cleanly. Rather, they were the result of repetitive trauma."
A detective named Monk Jeffries asked a pretty good question from the front row. "You think they were practicing? Had never done this before?"
"I couldn't say," Paula told him. "Wouldn't surprise me."
"Yeah," I put in. "It's like they were practicing, Monk." I had my own opinion about the murders. "There's something very young about this crime scene."
"As in inexperienced?" Jeffries asked.
"No. Just young. I'm talking about the cutting, the broken bed, the vandalism in general. Also the fact that this was probably done by a group of five or more. That's a big group of intruders. When I intersect all those factors, I get a few possibilities: gang, cult, OC. In that order."
"Gang?" another D-1 asked from the back. "You ever see gang violence like this massacre?"
"I've never seen violence like this, period," I said.
"I've got twenty bucks on OC. Any takers?" It was Lou Copeland, a competent but thoroughly obnoxious D-1 with Major Case Squad. A few of his cronies laughed.
Not me. I threw my clipboard across the room. It struck the wall and fell onto the tile. That wasn't like me, so it made an impression.
The room was quiet. I
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