As she sat here, her eyes closed, she let some of the case information roll through her head. No other people were in that one house, just the husband and wife, and they’d been seen arguing on the beach earlier. His fingerprints were all over the knife, and he was blubbering like a baby when they found them. Kate wasn’t sure who had called it in though, and that bothered her. She sat here, her fingers slightly drumming her desktop. Because somebodyhadcalled it in. That was the only sticking point for her.
Meaning that person knew something, but, if they had witnessed the event, where were they, and what was their role? The husband was incoherent and swore he hadn’t called it in; then he had also said that he hadn’t killed his wife. Said he’d passed out. And, when he woke up, his wife had been dead. But Kate had checked both their phones anyway, and neither had made the call to the police. And it certainly wasn’t random that the cops had showed up.
So something was going on; she just didn’t know what. The others on her team didn’t seem to be particularly bothered about it, but she was. Something was very strange about having a crime scene like that, where it seemed clearly open-and-shut, yet still no way to know who made the 9-1-1 call.
“A Good Samaritan caller,” she said, but she hated that. It was too perfect an answer. How had someone seen? Looked in a window? If so, why? Or had they been there at the time—and, if so, had that person killed the wife?
As much as she liked every case cut-and-dry, everyTcrossed, everyIdotted, every question mark exactly where it needed to be, this case didn’t feel that way. She sipped her coffee. She worked through everything else she knew about the case, but absolutely nothing was unusual,exceptfor that call. She thought about it and leaned forward, then picked up her phone and called Dispatch. After identifying herself, she said, “A 9-1-1 call came in at 2218 last night. Do you have a recording of the call?”
“Of course,” the dispatcher said, “but I’ll need to pass you to my manager, so you can get a copy of it.” Kate waited. The manager came on the line. “Yes, we have that,” he said. “Give me a moment, and I’ll send a copy over.”
“And can you tell me if there’s any ID for the caller?”
“No,” the dispatcher said. “Nobody ID’d.”
“So somebody made the call but didn’t answer your questions?”
“That’s the way it happens sometimes,” he said. “I’ve sent it to you. You can listen for yourself.”
After hanging up, she brought it up on her email and went over the very short recording. It looked like a thirty-seven-second call.
“This is 9-1-1. Do you have an emergency? Please tell me your name and your address.”
“He stabbed her,” said the hushed voice. “He stabbed her dead.”
“Name and address,” the dispatcher’s voice said again. “Please, sir, I need your name and address.”
But the only address he gave was the address of the murdered woman. Kate found that interesting. So he knew where it was and knew enough about the scenario to call it in. But, when it came to identifying himself, he didn’t. He had immediately said, “You need to send somebody there, before he can hide his tracks,” he snapped. “Now.”
And he hung up. It wasn’t even thirty-seven seconds. The first part was just the dispatcher, picking it up and answering, going through the standard spiel.
“Interesting,” she murmured. “So what the devil is this all about?”
Something about that voice. Something she wasn’t so sure about. She thought about the psychic case days earlier and shook her head. No, it wasn’t that. It was obviouslynotSimon’s voice, at least not speaking in a normal voice. But it would be odd to have two weird scenarios like this in just a handful of days.
But then again, a full moon was coming, and she swore to God it brought out the crazies. She’d heard several people at the hospitals talk the same way. Somehow a full moon made people do things they wouldn’t normally do. Had a third person been in that house? And had he somehow led the husband on to kill the wife? Or had some third person just been a bystander? Maybe he’d been a pizza delivery guy and watched through the window. She understood why he wished to stay out of it, but it would certainly make her feel better to know who had placed that call.
“Good morning,” Colby said, as he walked into the bullpen.
She opened her eyes and stared at him.
He looked at her directly. “Long night, huh?”
“You could say that,” she muttered. She picked up her coffee again and finished it. As she stood to refill it, he said, “You might as well sit down. Because, one, the coffee is gone. And, two, we’ve got a meeting in three minutes.”
“Three minutes is enough to get more coffee,” she protested and stared longingly at the corner she had to get around to get to the coffee.
“But not to make a new pot,” he said. “So, in this case, no, it’s not.”
“Why is the coffee always gone?” she groaned.
“I think it’s a standard police problem,” Colby said. “The coffee isalwaysgone.”
“It shouldn’t be,” she said, “damn it.” But she sat back down and watched as everybody else walked in with full cups of coffee. She glared at them and asked, “Did you all finish the coffee?”
Just then Audrey poked her head around the corner and said, “I put on a fresh pot. Two minutes to fresh coffee.”
At that, Kate gave her the first bright smile of her morning and said, “Good, thanks. I want to make sure I get a cup.”