Never Assume Anything (2/?)
Title: Never Assume Anything (2/?)
Author: Miss Widget
Pairing: Wait and see! This is a CSI / WMC crossover so anything is possible.
Note 1: This is a story in response to my posting on what if Sofia Curtis and Lindsay Boxer were ever to meet.
Note 2: I don’t live in the States (Hey, I don’t even live on the same continent!) so please forgive any mistakes on my part. I promise to do research on things I am not sure about as I go along but feel free to (kindly) point out any blunders on my part.
Note 3: Thanks to my girl for the beta to help fix it all up! yellowsmurf6 , you rock!!
Archiving: with permission
Chapter 2
Inspector Lindsay Boxer ended her call with a soft, “Thank you.” With a pensive look on her face, she tapped her cell phone against her lips a few times before slipping into her coat pocket.
Her partner, Inspector Warren Jacobi, having finished his sandwich, tossed the wrapper into a bin as they headed back to their car.
“Good news?” Jacobi broke into her thoughts as he slid behind the wheel.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. That was Tom. Apparently the Chief leaned on his counterpart over in Las Vegas for some cooperation. In addition to all of that paperwork we received from the LVPD earlier, they’re sending one of their detectives over to work with us. Detective Curtis worked on the case when our killer struck over there four years ago. Hopefully that will give us some insight into his sick mind.”
Lindsay’s Texan drawl was pronounced, giving away just how tired the Inspector was. They had been working on this particular case for two weeks solid now and, other than the hit on the database, had very little to show for it. Every potential lead had petered out, leaving an increasingly frustrated Inspector. The brutal nature of the two killings, each a week apart, here in San Francisco haunted Lindsay. She had seen many horrific ways one person could kill another in her years working Homicide, but this was right up there with the worst. She vividly remembered when the first murder was brought to her attention.
-oOo-
Two weeks earlier, Lindsay had been having a good day. The weather was pleasant; her paperwork was, for the most part, up to date; and she’d just won lunch on her partner for the rest of the week. All was good in her world. Then her phone rang.
“Boxer,” was her usual curt answer.
“Lindsay! Lindsay, you need to get here! You need to get here now!” Cindy Thomas, crime reporter for The Registrar and friend, whispered harshly.
“Cindy! Cindy, slow down! Take a deep breath and calm down.” Lindsay paused and heard a big gulp of air being inhaled over the phone, followed by a few more regulated breaths. “Okay. Now, where are you?”
“I’m at my desk. I’m at work. Lindsay, you need to see this. Please, you need to come.” Cindy’s voice was husky with urgency, suppressed tears audible as she struggled to keep calm.
“Okay. Alright. Sit tight and I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m leaving now, okay? Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” Lindsay’s throat tightened at the possibility of her friend being hurt. As she spoke, she was gathering her things, ready to head out the door as soon as the call was finished.
“Okay. Thanks. I … thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
As soon as the call disconnected, Lindsay threw her leather coat on, filling Jacobi in on the call and her plan to head out.
“Want some company?” Jacobi’s concern for his favourite reporter was obvious.
“No, let’s see what the situation is. I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks, though.” The last was said with a quick smile.
“No problem. Fill me in when you can. It’s almost home time anyway, so I’ll head out if you don’t need me.”
With a grateful nod, Lindsay grabbed her car keys and briskly strode out.
***
A short while later, an anxious Cindy almost collapsed with relief at the sight of the tall, dark Texan heading her way. With a tremulous smile, the redheaded reporter waved Lindsay over.
After a quick glance around to make sure none of the other reporters were taking any notice, Cindy carefully picked up the A4 envelope on her desk and led the now very curious Inspector to an empty office.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Lindsay pinned Cindy with a laser-like glare.
“Okay, spill. What’s got you acting so weird...well, weirder than usual?” The brusque tone clearly told Cindy that Lindsay’s patience was quickly coming to an end.
Taking a deep breath and slowly easing it out, Cindy settled into one of the office chairs, carefully opened the envelope, and tapped on it. With each tap, an A4 sheet of paper was slowly revealed, along with four Polaroids. Once everything was out of the envelope, Cindy carefully used the eraser end of her pencil to spread the photos and letter out. The tremble of her hand was noticeable.
Lindsay, after watching the care that Cindy took with the documents, eased over next to the reporter and got her first good look at the Polaroids. Her sharp gasp was clearly audible, as was the soft, vicious “Damn!”
The four Polaroids were all of the same blonde woman, in the same pose. What had caused Lindsay’s reaction and Cindy’s frantic phone call was the fact that the photos documented various stages of the torture inflicted upon the woman. In the fourth photo, it was quite obvious that the woman was dead. A quick scan of the letter showed a typed address, nothing more.
“When did you get this? How did it arrive?”
Lindsay’s cop instincts kicked in, asking questions while she pulled latex gloves out of her pocket and put them on. She gave a quick squeeze to Cindy’s shoulder before carefully picking up the envelope to examine it.
Cindy had slowly relaxed, obviously feeling much better now that her dark haired cop friend was there. She ran her hand though her hair before puffing out a breath.
“Well, it was on my desk when I returned from running down a lead for a story I’m writing. I got back here about 4:30 and saw this and a couple of other envelopes on my desk. The mail guy was sick today, so somebody obviously only had a chance to check the mail this afternoon. I had finished off my article, and then went through my mail. That was the last envelope I opened. One of the Polaroids spilled out when I opened it. When I saw that poor woman, I called you right away. I put that picture back in the envelope and tried not to touch it more than I had to. I checked with the mailroom; they showed someone had signing for the mail delivery at 9:00 this morning. I would assume this was with all of the other mail in the bag. As you can see, the envelope was addressed to me, care of The Registrar and, by the postmark, you can see that must have been posted yesterday, from here in the city. More than that, I do not know.”
All through her explanation, Cindy’s grip on her clasped hands had tightened. The thought that whoever had done such a horrendous thing had obviously meant for her specifically to receive the pictures was obviously distressing.
When Cindy stopped talking, Lindsay carefully put the envelope down and moved over to the visibly disturbed redhead. She rested her hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.
“Okay, then. You know I have to ask, so don’t get upset with me. Has anyone else seen these? Made copies of these?” Her grip tightened when the reporter’s shoulders tensed reflexively.
“Of course not! I know better than that! I know that this is evidence. Just like I know that you’ll give me first dibs on the story. It’s only fair.”
At Cindy’s indignant tone, a small smile appeared on Lindsay’s face, before being quickly stifled.
“I know that, Thomas, relax. I had to ask, though.” Lindsay quickly soothed ruffled feathers.
“I would assume that the address on the letter is where we will find the vic’s body. Let me call it in, get the building sealed off and have the crime scene guys head out there. Do you have something I can put the envelope in to seal it? It’s unlikely that we’ll get any fingerprints off of it, but you never know.”
Handing over a plastic sleeve from a file on the desk, Cindy gave a small smile to show that she wasn’t upset about the questions.
“Are you going to call Claire? Since this poor woman is going to end up in her morgue in a while, she may like the heads up.”
Flashing a brief smile of acknowledgement, Lindsay quickly sealed the plastic sleeve with Scotch tape, added her signature with a handy magic marker, then tucked the evidence under her arm. She gestured for Cindy to head back out the office and dug out her cell phone to make all of the necessary calls.
When she reached Cindy’s desk, the redhead had totally regained her composure and was digging though her desk for her bag, notepad, and keys.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Lindsay’s voice was resigned. She already knew what the answer was going to be.
“I’m going with you. You’re going to the murder scene, and I want to be there. I’m a part of this, whether you like it or not. So deal with it!” Cindy’s tone, as well as her pose, was the very definition of determination and defiance. Arms crossed, chin up, she stared straight into Lindsay’s eyes as if daring her to say no. Surprise flickered over her expressive face at the answer she received.
“Sure.” Lindsay shrugged. The fact that the killer had specifically chosen her reporter friend to send the disturbing material to was worrying. At least with her tagging along, Lindsay could keep an eye on her, keep her safe. She also hoped to curb Cindy’s extreme methods of getting leads for her story by doing it this way.
Lindsay shooed the startled redhead towards the exit and her car. The quicker they got there, the sooner they would start to get some answers.
***
After an exhausting six hours, the crime scene had been put under a microscope, the body sent off to the morgue, and all of the door-to-doors in the vicinity were done. And they had nothing. Not one good lead. Hell, not even a whiff of a lead.
A frustrated Lindsay strode over to where Cindy sat, patiently waiting, in her beloved Maggie.
“Okay, now can you tell me more about what you saw inside? I can’t believe that you wouldn’t let me in. Well, actually, I can, but still! It’s not like I don’t know how to behave myself at a crime scene.” Cindy had popped out of her car as soon as she saw Lindsay heading her way.
Lindsay gave a big sigh, tiredly rubbing her burning eyes.
“Cindy, I saw your reaction to seeing the one photo. I was not going to let you see the actual dead body. Trust me, it was not pretty.” Lindsay’s low voice was husky with remembered horror. The image of the poor blonde nailed to her own table, sliced to ribbons, was still very fresh in her mind.
“I spoke to Claire. She’ll be doing the autopsy first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe she can give us more information because there was nothing here. It’s almost sterile...that’s how well this guy cleaned up after himself. The only place left as is was the dining room. And there was no trace of anyone else in that house but the vic.”
Lindsay leaned against the car and looked over at Cindy, the nearby streetlight casting shadows over her face.
“Are you going to be alright tonight? If you want, you can crash at my place. Martha won’t mind.”
A genuine smile spread over Cindy’s features, obviously touched at the offer.
“Thanks, Lindsay, but I’ll be okay. Are we still on for Papa Joe’s after work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, barring any disasters. I’ll let you know what time once I’ve checked with Claire and Jill.”
“Okay, good. I’ll see you tomorrow then. You’re heading home now, right? You look tired. Maybe fresh eyes will help when you look over the reports tomorrow.”
Lindsay gave a half-smile at that, flashing a dimple. She quickly rubbed her hands over her face before pushing off of Maggie.
“Yes, Mother. I’ll go home once I’ve gotten the last of the door-to-door statements. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
With that, Cindy smiled, slid back into her car, and watched as Lindsay headed back to the cluster of uniforms gathered near the sealed off building, swagger much in evidence. After making sure that Lindsay had no intention of doing anything other that what she had said she was going to do, Cindy started her car and headed off toward home.
-oOo-
That had been the start of Lindsay’s present nightmare. Claire had been able to tell them a lot about how Sally Bernstein, a lawyer, had died. However, very little was learned about the killer, other than that he was right-handed and meticulous in the way he had cut into her. No other leads were forthcoming.
Then the second envelope had been sent to Cindy, who had not even opened it before calling Lindsay. The second crime scene was almost a mirror image of the first, and just as horrifying.
Lindsay immediately recognised that this was obviously the same killer, with the same pattern. That’s when she had started searching the databases for similar murders. When she got a hit for a spree of four bodies in Las Vegas four years prior, she realised that they had a particularly nasty serial killer on their hands. The Inspector had wasted no time in contacting the investigating officer, a Captain Jim Brass. After explaining her situation, Captain Brass had been very forthcoming with the information on his investigation and had promptly sent her all of the reports he had on file.
She had reported the match with the Vegas case to her Lieutenant and, as a direct result, she was going to be playing host to one of the investigators.
“So, are you going to be meeting up with our Vegas counterpart at the airport tomorrow, or are you going to send a uniform to escort them in?” Jacobi’s voice broke into her dark thoughts again.
“I think I’ll do the meet and greet. I want to get a feel for this Detective Curtis. And I also want to get the briefing over with as soon as possible. I want to find this killer! The sooner we pool our resources, the sooner we’ll be able to track him down.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be sure to bring in extra doughnuts tomorrow.”
Lindsay chuckled at that. “You do that. Don’t forget the ones with the sprinkles.”
Jacobi smirked at her. “Heaven forbid I forget the sprinkles. So, back to the office?”
“Back to the office. I want to arrange a space for Detective Curtis...finagle a desk and a chair at the very least. Then I want to organise what we have, compare it to the Vegas case, and see what pops up.”
“Something has to give. Nobody can pull off the perfect murder. They all make a mistake eventually.”
“Exactly. I just hope we can do this before we have another victim. If he follows pattern, Cindy will be receiving another envelope on Monday.”
On that sombre note, the rest of the drive was completed in silence.