AFTER THIRTY MINUTES pleading, Tommy Upton authorizes Gabby and me to make the trip. His dark face is darker than usual. “Sure you can’t telephone? Video-conference? It’s five hours on the road each way there and back. Besides, who the hell can afford to operate a fishing lodge on a cop’s pension anyway? Is this guy bent? Can you trust him? There’s talk, you know, about Queens.”
I say, “Danilenko has no internet connection, no access to the case files. I’ve downloaded the originals to my laptop. The lead investigator swallows his service revolver, his partner retires shortly after. Not a conversation I want to have with this guy over the phone.”
Upton frowns.
“What we learn could determine the direction of our investigation, sir. Until now, we’ve assumed these tattoos are a crucial link connecting our five victims, including Annie Taylor, the girl in Prospect Park. Sever this link, and maybe we don’t have a serial killer at all, maybe we have something else altogether.”
Gabby joins in. “The perp knows details of both the Mancinelli and Manischewitz crimes, sir. Available to him only from inside sources, whatever they may be. If we dig a little deeper, maybe we discover his knowledge is inaccurate, or incomplete, or information acquired second, or even third-hand during a cell-block confession. Maybe he’s a janitor who likes to creep file folders after dark. Like Dex says, maybe The Chatterbox isn’t a serial killer but a copycat. Who knows what else?”
O’Neill says, “If he kills into September, he goes from being one to the other, regardless.”
Upton worries his brow. “If he’s a copycat how does he have inside knowledge on the first two murders before committing the third, fourth, and fifth? Why does he put hearts on the victims? To screw with the investigation? To screw with you, Fortune? It raises the prospect law enforcement is implicated.”
Upton’s expression is hard, if not borderline accusatory.
“None of us wants to consider that possibility,” says O’Neill, his expression more threatening than accusatory.
“What about the girl in the park?” Upton says. “Tattoo?”
“No,” I say feeling like I’m under siege. “But it doesn’t mean she isn’t connected. The crime occurred in a public setting. Maybe the perp was interrupted. If it was a crime of convenience on his part—wrong place, wrong time—maybe he didn’t come equipped with the necessary tools. Alternatively, we have yet to confirm if the victim is married, divorced, or has children. The only thing consistent is strangulation with tights around the throat and an apparent confession.”
“And you think Danilenko can shed light on the evidence?”
“I do.”
“And if he can’t?”
“If not,” Gabby says, “we exhume.”
“Would human tissue hold up after all these years?” O’Neill says.
Upton raises a hand. “Enough. We cross that bridge when we get there.”