‘How sure are you?’
Hoskins’ question was blunt and to the point.
‘Ninety-nine per cent,’ Gabrielle replied tightly. ‘We just need the evidence …’
‘You just need the evidence.’
His response dripped with sarcasm. Superintendent Hoskins didn’t often put in an appearance on the eighth floor, but when he did, he made his presence felt.
‘Kassie Wojcek is linked to all the victims,’ Gabrielle continued unabashed. ‘She was seen stalking them just before their deaths.’
‘So you keep saying.’
‘And now she’s spending her days in West Town, scoping the shops, diners, community centres. Which fits, because all the victims –’
‘Lived in West Town. I’ve read your reports, Gabrielle. I also read the newspapers. In fact, I brought a few of them with me, in case you haven’t had a chance to look at them …’
He tossed a tabloid on to the desk, reading the headline aloud:
‘ “Reign of terror. Chicago Butcher continues to elude authorities …” ’
Another tabloid landed on top of the first:
‘ “Inferno at Lake Calumet. The TRUE story …” ’
Then the Tribune:
‘ “CPD clutching at straws in triple homicide …” ’
Beneath the banner headline was a snatched photo of Gabrielle looking stressed. Reporters and photographers continued to lurk outside CPD headquarters, hoping to discover snippets of information or, at the very least, evidence of police incompetence. An intrepid snapper had even stationed himself outside Gabrielle’s house – leading to a furious row between her and Dwayne this morning. He was increasingly worried about the toll the case was taking on her and the family in general. Gabrielle agreed with him completely – this was affecting everyone – yet there was no question of her walking away now.
‘Twenty-four hours and we’ll have this thing wrapped up,’ she replied, as confidently as she could.
Hoskins raised an eyebrow.
‘You think so?’
‘Absolutely. We have an eight-man undercover unit shadowing her every move. She will lead us to her next victim. And when she does …’
Hoskins was still looking sceptical.
‘Trust me, the day after tomorrow, the headlines are going to look a lot better.’
‘When you have no idea who her accomplice is? If she even has an accomplice,’ Hoskins countered.
‘Wojcek is the key. And she’s going to make a mistake. We are so close.’
‘I wish I could believe you, Gabrielle,’ Hoskins replied heavily. ‘But this investigation has been compromised from the start.’
He looked out into the incident room, his gaze settling on Miller’s vacant chair. Hoskins had nearly removed Gabrielle from the investigation then – she could remember every word of his expletive-laden reaction to Miller’s confession and suspension – and had only been dissuaded from doing so because of the negative headlines Gabrielle’s dismissal would inevitably generate. Still, her position was hanging by a thread, and Gabrielle knew it.
‘Sir, you gave me this job because you had faith in me, because you trusted me to lead this department,’ she continued, forcing down her anxiety. ‘Keep that faith for one more day. If, after that, I’ve failed to deliver, then bring the Feds in, do whatever you have to do. But don’t rob us of the chance to end this thing on our terms, to show that the CPD is up to the task it’s been entrusted with.’
It was a naked appeal to his pride, to his sense of legacy and reputation. Hoskins deliberated for an age, sizing up the possible risks and rewards, before nodding his head curtly and taking his leave. Gabrielle watched him go, relieved to have survived their latest skirmish, but aware that her reprieve was temporary.
Her head was on the block now.