Eight In The Box Part 18

"Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Connie said.

"Hey! Don't touch that." Alves's attention was on a young lab tech who was about to pick a couch cus.h.i.+on off the floor and put it back on the couch. "Don't move a f.u.c.king thing until ID gets pictures of the whole room. I want them taking full panoramic shots so we have a virtual crime scene."

"Yes, sir."

Alves joined Connie as he walked down the hall toward Mooney, who was kneeling outside the bedroom. On Mooney's right ankle Connie spotted a holster holding a small revolver, probably a .22 or .25 caliber. Mooney was so old school, if the department would allow it, he'd probably be carrying a big revolver on his waist instead of the standard-issue 9mm Glock. "Hey, Sarge, how's it going?" Connie called out.

"I've been better," Mooney said. "Don't go f.u.c.king with my crime scene like that last DA."

"Sorry about that. You won't see Richard Wahl again. He got booted off Response."

"Joe Cool got s.h.i.+t-canned?" Alves laughed.

"You're going to get s.h.i.+t-canned too if you don't do some f.u.c.king work."

"I guess that's my cue," Alves said, walking back toward the front of the apartment. "He's very subtle."

"I've noticed that about him."

Mooney went back to supervising the collection of evidence in Ramos's bedroom. He also had two techs from the Identification Unit dusting for latent prints on every surface in the house. Smaller items like a lamp and a watch had been collected and bagged. Mooney even had them remove some of the doors to be fumed for prints back at headquarters.

"Sarge, can I check out the bathroom?" Connie asked.

"From the hallway," Mooney barked, "but don't go in any of the rooms, don't touch anything and don't get in my way."

"Whatever you say, boss." Connie crept down the hall. He could see the tub just as he got to the threshold of the bathroom.

The tub reminded him of a scene from an old horror movie, where some s.e.xy, naked woman pops up out of the blood and scares the h.e.l.l out of the viewer. But this was no movie. The deep red created a stunning contrast to the white enamel of the old cast-iron claw-footed tub. Connie could smell the blood in the air, salty and metallic.

He felt invigorated being back at a crime scene with Mooney and Alves.

There were several white bath towels on the floor next to the tub with a b.l.o.o.d.y imprint of a human body. More blood-soaked towels were tossed in the corner. Just like the other crime scenes. Connie was fascinated by the image and the story it told. He wondered if the police would ever figure out what it all meant.

CHAPTER 66.

Richter smiled at the juror. Linda Bagwell wasn't the most attractive woman he'd ever seen. Her longish brown hair was pulled back in a bun. She was wearing no makeup. She had small b.r.e.a.s.t.s and wore a blouse that was too tight. Her skirt made her look bottom heavy, like a pear. woman he'd ever seen. Her longish brown hair was pulled back in a bun. She was wearing no makeup. She had small b.r.e.a.s.t.s and wore a blouse that was too tight. Her skirt made her look bottom heavy, like a pear.

Yet Richter knew she'd do just fine. He had seen her confidential juror questionnaire, making a mental note of her personal information. She lived downtown. At the age of thirty-three she was still single with no children. She had her MBA and JD and was working at a boutique consulting firm downtown. She must have been very bright if they'd hired her despite her physical shortcomings. Although she was obviously successful, he could tell she had never really enjoyed herself. He could see it in her eyes. She wasn't happy with her life.

Richter pictured her as one of the nameless, faceless sheep he saw every day on their way to work. They were herded into their high-rise buildings for the day, then set free long enough to eat and sleep before being herded back in the following morning. The juror was a well-paid sheep, nothing more, nothing less.

Richter would change all of that. He got that warm feeling inside that most people get when they give toys to a charity at Christmastime or give a dollar to a homeless person.

Richter was going to give the juror a much greater gift. He sent her another little smile as she sat in the jury box. This time she actually smiled back.

She was perfect.

CHAPTER 67.

Richter gazed out the window at the Back Bay skyline. The setting sun reflecting off the John Hanc.o.c.k and Prudential towers in the distance created a postcard image of the city. sun reflecting off the John Hanc.o.c.k and Prudential towers in the distance created a postcard image of the city.

Friday night. Only a few people were still in the office. The weekend weather was supposed to be warm, so most of the others had left early. Richter watched Nick in his cubicle, muddling through paperwork.

In the half-lit, silent office, nagging thoughts of his last trial edged out all other concerns. His jury had deliberated a little too long. The women, he knew, had been enthralled. But the men he wasn't so sure about. This potential weakness grew in his mind until all he could think about was how to establish that bond of trust with every juror.

"Hey, buddy," Nick interrupted his thoughts. The city outside the windows was blanketed in darkness now, the streetlights were on.

"Yeah?" Richter looked up, rubbing his eyes.

"It's getting late. You want to get a bite? We can grab some Chinese from the Golden Temple."

"Best egg rolls in America." Maybe there was a simple solution to his dilemma. "We can eat at my house. Have a couple of beers. Watch the Sox."

"I could use a couple of cold ones," Nick said. "Long week."

"I can call in the order from the car." Richter put on his suit jacket. "Let's do it."

CHAPTER 68.

On Monday morning, Andi was checking her e-mails when Monica came into her cubicle. came into her cubicle.

"Nick's not here yet," she said. "He's never this late without calling."

"So you're starting to fall for your stalker?" Andi teased her.

"I'm serious. He's usually in early. No one's seen him. His cell phone's going right to voice mail."

"Maybe he had a late start and got caught in traffic. Probably forgot to turn his phone on." Andi could see that Monica wanted to believe her. "I wouldn't worry. He'll show up."

Monica turned and stared out the window for a moment. Andi could tell there was something else.

"He didn't call me," Monica said.

"I know."

"That's not what I mean. He's been calling me on the weekends. He'll find some excuse to call, usually something stupid about work, then we talk for hours. He didn't call this weekend. I was a little worried, but then I figured he was trying something new to get me to like him, see if I missed him. Something's wrong."

"Did you guys have a fight last week?"

"No. When we said good night on Friday, I knew he'd be calling me. Andi, I'm going to call the police."

"Let's talk to Liz first." Andi led Monica into Liz's office. Connie, Mitch and Brendan were already there, trying to figure out who would cover Nick's cases until he got in. Andi was glad Connie was there. He'd know what to do.

"He wouldn't miss work like this," Monica said. "His job is everything to him."

"Maybe there was a little too much partying over the weekend," Connie said. Andi shot him a look, so he offered, "Maybe he hooked up with some buddies from law school. I'm sure he's fine."

"Monica, have you called around to the local hospitals to see if he got into an accident?" Mitch asked.

"Good idea," Liz said. "Andi can help you."

"Liz, I'll cover for Monica and Nick in the sessions." Brendan was already putting on his suit jacket.

By lunchtime, Liz had called Nick's parents in Roslindale. They hadn't heard from him either.

Connie pulled Liz and Andi aside. "I'm going to shoot over to Nick's condo. I'll take Mitch with me. I can have Alves meet us over there. If there's any problem," he whispered, "we'll have the police with us. I'll call as soon as I find out anything."

Even though Andi offered to get her some lunch, Monica said she wasn't hungry. The two of them had called all the local hospitals, asking about accident victims.

"What about the hospital the cops call the Stairway to Heaven?" Andi asked.

"Called it," Monica said. "Nothing."

The two women sat in silence. Monica seemed worn out. She hadn't bothered to put on her lipstick and her hair was uncombed.

Liz pulled up a chair and joined them, her face showing signs of strain. She studied Monica for a moment. "Connie called in from the condo. There's no sign of Nick. Let's notify the DA and file a report."

CHAPTER 69.

Connie knew the two detectives from the Homicide Unit who showed up on Tuesday morning. The somber mood in the courthouse was heightened by their presence. Although no one wanted to think the worst, Nick's disappearance was being investigated like a homicide. up on Tuesday morning. The somber mood in the courthouse was heightened by their presence. Although no one wanted to think the worst, Nick's disappearance was being investigated like a homicide.

The detectives were a couple of old-timers named Taylor and Campbell who'd been a.s.signed to Homicide for years and were biding time until their retirements. Connie had met them at several homicide scenes.

"What's up, guys? Anything new on Nick?" Connie asked as the two men walked past the secretaries toward Liz's office.

"Nothing," Taylor said. He looked worn down. "We need to talk with everyone in the building to see if they saw anything out of the ordinary last week."

"Connie," Campbell said, "when was the last time you saw Nick?"

"Friday night. We were both working late. Us and Mitch Beaulieu."

"Mitch Beaulieu?" Campbell asked.

"Another prosecutor. He's at his desk right around the corner if you want to talk with him."

"How late were you here?"

"I left around six thirty. Nick was still here. I'm not sure if Mitch was here."

"Did you leave alone?" Campbell asked.

"Yes."

"Where was Nick?"

"At his desk. Everyone else had gone home. The three of us were joking around about how we were big losers, working late on a Friday night. I told him I'd had enough, I was going home. He said he was going to stay a little longer, so he wouldn't have to come in on the weekend. We said good night. That was the last time I saw him."

"Did he say what he was doing over the weekend?"

"I didn't ask."

"Where was Mitch?"

"That's what I'm not sure about. He was working in the conference room, but kept coming back to his desk for stuff. I went to the bathroom before I took off. He wasn't at his desk, but I just a.s.sumed he was still in the conference room."

"I'll check with him," Campbell said.

"Did you see anyone hanging around outside when you left the building?" Taylor asked.

"It was deserted out there. This whole thing is pretty upsetting." Connie shook his head. "Could I have been the last person to see him?"

"You or Mitch," Taylor said.

"Do you guys think he's all right?" Connie asked.

"I don't know," Taylor said. "n.o.body's seen him in more than three days. It doesn't look like he made it home Friday night. And it doesn't look like he's gone on a trip either. According to his parents, all of his luggage and travel bags were in his closet."