Next breath, p.4
NEXT BREATH, page 4
“Thanks,” Meg said.
Looking at the time, she was surprised to see that it was almost six o’clock.
The arrangement that she’d been looking forward to the whole week had temporarily left her mind because she’d been so preoccupied with seeing Carver. Now, she remembered that she had a dinner date with her friend Alex.
Alex was cooking dinner, and Meg had said she’d bring dessert. Knowing the day would be hectic, she’d prepared it yesterday. A chocolate tart with drizzles of strawberry coulis sat proudly in the refrigerator.
Meg knew that it was about a million calories per bite, but she’d licked the bowl, and it was so delicious it was worth the extra runs she’d need to put in at the indoor stadium where she was currently training during the cold snap.
She peeked at it once more, feeling proud that she’d managed to make such a flawless looking sweet treat. And it had all been from scratch. Even the pastry.
She took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and opened it.
When Gabe said he’d do something now, he meant now. Meg wasn’t surprised to see that the email was already waiting when she opened up her laptop.
As she glanced at the other incoming mails, she saw another request had come in from a connection of one of her mother’s friends – this one was a plea to help trace a missing person.
This wasn’t something Meg did – so far, anyway. Somehow, though, the news that she’d left the police and was handling cold cases had spread, and she’d been surprised recently when a couple of strangers had reached out asking for help.
Meg was wondering if she should offer her expertise. She had the time available, sort of, although a lot of her energy was going toward the hunt for James’s killer.
People needed help, and they were turning to her. She’d always been one to offer a hand when someone was desperate, and she could do this now.
The fact she had a massive trust fund to live on meant that she could handle the cases without charging much, if people were in a difficult situation.
Something to think about for the future.
For now, though, she had found the mail she needed.
She clicked on the icon and waited for the file to open, taking another sip of water to ease the dryness in her mouth, and wondering what the contents would reveal.
If the Snowman Killer was at work again, it was very important to Meg to know whether Paul Morrison’s death was a suicide or not.
Because Gabe was in charge of the case this time.
Making sure to keep her thoughts calmly ordered, she opened the file and looked through it.
She noted down all the details of the suicide, remembering the shock that had reverberated through her at the time, and how it had shaken everyone who’d been a part of their team.
Suicides were never easy to cope with.
Now, there was another detail that got her thinking.
Morrison had been left-handed. She’d always noticed the holster carried on his left hip.
However, looking at the report, Meg saw that the service pistol had been found near his right hand.
Not his left.
And that typed suicide note? A copy of it was in the file, and Meg agreed with Susan on reading it. It was formal. It could have been written by anyone. A typed note? Why?
At the time, everyone had assumed it was due to depression and a failure to make progress with a tough case that had resulted in a lot of critical media coverage.
Now, looking at the inconsistencies and red flags in this report, she thought there was more to it.
Death by suicide when finally making progress on a tough serial case?
Nope, Meg wasn’t buying it.
CHAPTER SIX
With her dessert held carefully in a carry-bag and a bottle of wine in her other hand, Meg knocked on Alex's door with some difficulty. She was very glad that she was seeing her friend tonight because she had a lot to discuss.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the past and present parallels to the Snowman case.
She couldn’t get the worry about Gabe out of her mind. He was the investigating officer. What if Morrison had been targeted by the killer, the suicide staged, and the Snowman decided to take Gabe out this time around?
Footsteps came to the door, and there was Alex, in the doorway of her small apartment. Delicious smells filtered out as Meg stepped inside. Alex took the bottle of wine from her, and they hugged each other.
Alex had her dark hair held back with a paisley headband, and she wore yoga pants that showed off her impossibly slim legs, along with a padded purple jacket. But Meg thought she was looking thinner than before, and she was worried that the stress of Alex’s new job might be tipping her over the edge.
She needed to ask her about that and make sure her friend got a good few calories inside her tonight.
“I’ve been looking forward to this dinner for ages,” Alex said, as they headed straight through to the kitchen. There, Meg was finally able to ease her dessert carefully out of her bag.
“So have I,” Meg said. “I haven’t seen you since Naomi left. That feels impossible.”
Alex had canceled two of their weekly dinners in succession, saying that there were work issues she had to deal with. That was very unusual.
Now, Alex was smiling as she oohed and aahed over Meg’s dessert, but Meg personally thought that the main course Alex had made – the most delicious looking beef and venison pie that she glimpsed hungrily in the oven – was far more of a triumph. Alex was a great cook.
Meg poured them a glass of red wine each, and they sat at the kitchen table, waiting a couple of minutes for the pie to brown to perfection.
The murder and the possible complications with Morrison's suicide were weighing on her mind, and she didn't want to talk about them immediately. Instead, she asked Alex how her work was going.
Alex shook her head. “Bad news, Meg,” she said. “I quit. As of yesterday.”
“You… quit?” Meg felt a pang of disappointment at the news, which wasn’t unexpected, but even so, she’d been hoping the situation was redeemable.
Alex took a big gulp of wine. “I couldn’t take it anymore. My nightmare boss was getting worse. He was overstepping boundaries in every direction. Two of my good friends there quit last month. Then, this month, he informed me with a smirk on his horrible face that I’d be expected to handle their entire workload. And at the same time, he asked me out.”
“What?” Meg spluttered as some of her wine nearly went down the wrong way.
“Can you believe it? And it wasn’t in a friendly way, either. He asked me in this calculating way, as if he was busy figuring out how soon I wanted a promotion, and whether I’d sleep with him to get it.”
“No!” Meg shook her head so violently her hair lashed into her eyes. “No, no, no. You did the right thing to leave. That was none too soon.”
“I feel as if it was a bad decision either way,” Alex said. “I won’t get a good reference. Not from him, after that. I’d so hoped I could stick it out for a year, but it just wasn’t possible. So, I’m a lady of leisure, as of now.”
“They made you clear your desk immediately?” Meg asked.
Alex nodded. “Yup,” she said.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Meg said. “And you mustn’t be hard on yourself. That situation was clearly impossible. Take some time. Give yourself space. Find the perfect job, without the nightmare boss.”
“I’m going to take your advice,” Alex said. “And in the meantime, I’m wondering – would you like a training partner? I haven’t had much time for exercise over the past few months. I’m feeling as if I was getting eaten up by stress. I would love to do some running with you. Maybe even a cycle or two, on your slower days? I draw the line at swimming, though,” she grinned.
“I never used to be much of a swimmer, either,” Meg said. “If it hadn’t been for that ridiculous bet Gabe made with me about completing an Ironman, I’d never set foot in the water. I mean, really. It’s cold, and it’s wet.”
“Have you won that bet as yet?” Alex asked.
Meg sighed. “The timing has me beat,” she admitted. “I’m going to owe Gabe a hundred dollars. I think I might have managed an Ironman if Naomi hadn’t visited, but the one I was going to enter happened during her vacation, so I missed it. Now, it’s winter, and the only ones are all the way in the south.”
“Why not fly there?” Alex asked. “You could enter one down south and hop on an airplane. Not like you have to be in the office on Monday. Take a mini vacation.”
She got up and took the pie out of the oven, leaving Meg to consider her words.
Should she?
Maybe it would be a good idea. She and her bicycle could leave the northerly winter behind and find some sunshine and warmth for a week or so.
She would consider it, she decided. There was still time – just. And Gabe would never let her forget it if she lost the bet. Really, the price of an airfare and a week’s hotel accommodation were a small price to pay.
Alex dished up the pie and put a dish of roast vegetables and a loaf of crusty bread on the table. Meg’s mouth was watering. She was starving, and this looked totally delicious. She had a weakness for pie. Make that carbs in general. If only she wasn’t in her early fifties.
“You’re looking like you have something on your mind,” Alex said.
Meg nodded. “I do,” she said. “Maybe you heard the news about the latest murder?”
“The woman found in the drifting snow? I wanted to ask you about that, because it sounded as if there was more to it,” Alex said. “Was she posed in some way or was there something creepy about the scene? Because the way the news anchors were talking, I felt sure there was.”
“There were similar murders fifteen years ago,” Meg said, causing Alex to frown. She clearly didn’t remember the Snowman killings.
Alex would have been in college at that time, studying law. She might have been distracted by her work or simply pushed the news to the back of her mind.
“And yes,” Meg continued. “The bodies were all posed to look like snowmen, with the heads jutting out of the snow, and the scarves they were strangled with wrapped around their necks. Because the murders all happened in snowfalls, the bodies themselves were then covered by loose snow.”
“That’s horrendous,” Alex said. “And fifteen years? You think he’s starting up again because of the weather?”
“It could be,” Meg agreed. She hadn’t thought of something as basic and literal as a snowfall itself as playing a part in the killer’s pattern, but maybe it did. Maybe this murderer was psychologically triggered to kill in cold weather, and of course, the fact that the snow helpfully covered his footprints meant that it was automatically easier for him.
Alex was now clearly putting herself in the killer’s shoes. “I guess when the weather’s so bad, people don’t look around. You just cover your head and focus on where you’re going. That would make it very easy to sneak up on someone, and much harder to be noticed doing it.”
“In all cases, he managed to find a woman walking on her own, and given the weather, these kills are clearly opportunistic and not targeted,” Meg said. “I remember the three victims were very different ages, and from different areas, and there were no connections between them. The only link was that they all happened to be walking out in the snow. I think all of them were heading back from work, in fact.”
“Yes, that makes sense,” Alex agreed. “That would also provide a timeframe to wait for a victim, wouldn’t it? After work, as it’s getting dark.” She paused. “I remember having to get home from college a couple of times when snowstorms hit. I couldn’t afford a car and had to walk a long way. It was freezing and surprisingly disorienting.” She glanced at her phone. “I can imagine how easy it would be to sneak up on someone who’s on their own. Meg, are you going to be helping Gabe with this case?”
"I am, and I'm going to start first thing tomorrow morning," Meg said. The pie was comforting and tasty, perfect cold-weather food, but the subject matter didn't match the standard of the cuisine. Every time she thought about Morrison's death, she found anxiety gripping her at the thought the same thing might happen to Gabe.
“I have the time, and I want to help,” Alex said. “Those killings created such a sense of fear in our neighborhood. I was so anxious for the ordinary people who volunteered to help the police and patrol the area. I’m in this with you. We’re going to need to be quick though. Because this cold front is here for a few days. If this killer uses heavy snow as his cover, he’s going to have the chance again tomorrow, and probably the next day, too.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Meg’s alarm jerked her from sleep the next morning, and unusually, her very first action was to check the weather report and then look out the window to confirm it.
Snow was expected late that afternoon. The forecast sent chills down her spine. A glance out of the window confirmed the heavy cloud hanging over the city, the snow that was still lying on the ground reflecting the ambient light.
“There’s going to be a lot to do today,” she told Corrigan, who remained in bed as Meg climbed out, dressed quickly, and went to get some coffee on.
She sat down at the dining room table and put together a plan of action.
First things first, calling Gabe. He’d be up early with the pressure of the case, and Meg wanted to contact him before he got too busy.
He picked up on the first ring. Meg could hear he was already in his car and on the way to work.
“Gabe. I’ve had some ideas,” she said.
“Run them past me,” he invited. “The more, the better. So far, we don’t have any leads. We’ve requested street camera footage but it’ll take a while, and part of the network near that park was down due to the storm.”
“We need to issue a public warning for the duration of this cold snap,” Meg said.
Gabe sighed. “We discussed that yesterday. We didn’t do it last night because there are pros and cons. The cons are that it’s going to create massive public panic and might cause essential businesses to grind to a halt if workers stay away. The pros are that it might save a life – unless the killer also listens to the warnings and decides that he’ll wait for the next cold snap.”
Meg nodded in sympathy. She got it, she really did. Police warnings couldn’t be issued indiscriminately. But in this case, she felt it was justified.
"He targets women who walk alone. We can encourage people to walk with a companion. Workplaces need to make plans for their female workers who can’t get where they’re going by car. Last time he went on a spree, he killed every time there was a heavy snowfall. It ended up being three consecutive days. This might happen again. Have you seen the weather reports?”
“I was looking at them first thing this morning,” Gabe said.
“People need time to prepare,” Meg insisted.
“You’re right,” Gabe agreed. “I’ll run it past Whitaker.”
“Just don’t mention my name,” Meg pleaded, seeing headlights sweep into her driveway. Alex was here, and they could begin their work.
But to her surprise, Gabe chuckled. “You’re not public enemy number one with Whitaker anymore,” he said. “Ever since that last case, he seems to have changed his attitude. I’ve heard him speak well of you a few times. He’s not even the bully he used to be. Maybe he’s finally grown up.”
“That’s great news,” Meg said, smiling herself. The prickly Whitaker had always seemed older than his years in appearance, but she had to admit his unreasonably bullying behavior had made her think of him as an insecure juvenile.
Maybe he had found a better balance and done some hard thinking after his heroic intervention in a life-threatening situation at the end of the last case landed him in the hospital with a near-fatal bullet wound to the chest.
Especially since Whitaker had been promoted as a result – along with Gabe.
Perhaps Whitaker felt that the personal success and recognition he’d always craved had finally been achieved. And ironically, it hadn’t happened because of his political maneuvering or the time he’d spent building relationships with influential people.
It had happened because one brave act had shown that, deep down, he was a dedicated cop at heart.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Meg said. “However, even so, I don’t want to rock the boat,”
“Here’s to smooth sailing,” Gabe agreed. “Does this mean you’re going to be able to do some more work on the case?”
“I am,” Meg said. “If there’s anything that you need me to do, then yell. Otherwise, I’ll do whatever background research will be most useful.”
"I'll send you all the details on the old cases," Gabe said. "Those, you're welcome to go through. Maybe there's something we've missed. There are so many boxes we have to check, and leads we have to follow, like camera footage, that we're not going to be able to look at those cases."
“I’ll wait for the files,” Meg said.
She went to the front door and let Alex in.
Bundled up in a thick, dark jacket, she headed inside, shivering.
“It’s not just the cold, it’s the wind,” she complained, heading over to stand by Meg’s fireplace for a couple of minutes to defrost. During that time, Gabe must have reached work and gone straight into the online archives, because by the time Alex sat down, the files were in Meg’s inbox.
“These cases defeated one of our most methodical investigators,” she said. “And they might have gotten him killed. So, we need to look through the information as thoroughly as we can and figure out what angles he didn’t explore.”
Alex nodded, opening her own computer as Meg forwarded the cold case files to her.
For a while, there was silence as the two of them read through the case.
Then, Meg found a name she recognized.
“Alex,” she said, “this is interesting. The lead detective used a consulting psychologist on the case, who helped to profile the killer. There isn’t much of his input in the file, but there’s some. And interestingly, he’s the same person Morrison reached out to for help when he was depressed after failing to solve the case.”
