It took a brief second before Jaylynn realized the lieutenant meant Cowboy. As she released the strong, warm hand, she said, "Yes, ma’am. He’s a great guy and an excellent cop."

Finn nodded. "That’s what he says about you. Lt. Malcolm also speaks highly of you." She turned, making a gesture for Jaylynn to follow her, saying over her shoulder, "I don’t know how you feel about investigations, but we’ve got too many things going on right now and not enough clerical help. I’ve got three detectives out with that dratted flu bug, and we’ve got two priority murder cases, both of them somewhat political. The heat is on."

She led Jaylynn into a cubbyhole of an office and pointed at the visitor’s chair on the other side of the desk. The rookie sat, carefully arranging her sling so the arm of the chair didn’t press against her. She looked around. The room was perhaps eight by ten and completely dwarfed by the metal desk and two battered file cabinets. On the only wall with open space three framed items hung: a diploma from the University of Minnesota, an advanced P.O.S.T. certification from the Peace Officer’s Standards and Training school, and a photo of Finn reaching out to shake the hand of a familiar looking woman wearing a blocky reddish-orange colored dress.

Before Jaylynn could figure out who the other woman in the photo was, the Lieutenant smiled wickedly and said, "How do you like working with sexist, egotistical, and overly-cologned men?"

The rookie sensed a presence behind her and a deep voice she recognized said, "Now is that any way to refer to two of your best detectives?"

Dark-haired Tsorro sidled past Jaylynn’s chair and moved into the room to stand next to the filing cabinet. Parkins slid by, too, saying, "Besides, boss, it’s not me wearing all that smelly stuff."

Finn smiled up at them, then turned back to Jaylynn. "I hear you’ve met Tsorro and Parkins and that you’ve been interested in this case they caught - the Tivoli case. We’ve got a lot of clerical work and phoning to do. That’s what I want to assign you to. You will work under the direction of these two. Basically, you’re going to be communications central for them."

Jaylynn was having trouble holding back the grin that was bubbling up. She’d expected to sit out in the reception area or file police reports. Instead, it sounded like she was being given the opportunity to be junior investigator.

"Don’t get too excited, though, Savage. You won’t be doing any field investigation."

"Ah, Lieutenant," Tsorro said, "the little lady might want to come along on a few calls - you know, just to get the lay of the land."

Finn nodded. "That’s fine. You guys make that decision. But Savage," she turned her attention back to the rookie, looking very serious, "you’re a total greenhorn at this. I can’t have you do anything, not make one move, without clearing it with the detectives or me. If you get a lead or even the smallest scrap of information, you bring it up immediately, okay?"

"Sure. No problem, Lieutenant."

"All right. The first thing you have to do - which I guarantee you will take most of the day - is get up to speed on what’s happened since the night of October 13th. There’s the initial reports - yours included." She smiled, her dark eyes looking warm and kind. "Look at the coroner’s autopsy reports on both vics and the folders of photos . . . and they’re pretty graphic, so I hope you have a strong stomach."

Jaylynn nodded. "I remember the scene quite clearly, Lieutenant."

"We’ve got some preliminary tox screens, but DNA hasn’t come in yet." She turned her head up toward the detectives. "And we’ve got what, guys - over a hundred statements?"

Parkins nodded. "I think we’re at 129 now."

"And about that many more to go," Tsorro grumbled. "Damn amazing how people make themselves scarce after something like this happens."

Finn gave a curt nod. "It’ll take you all day to read the reports. But once you’re current with what’s gone on, you can start helping us track down the other witnesses. Hope you’ve got a tough ear because you’re going to be on the phone a lot."

Jaylynn smiled at her temporary supervisor, then looked up at Tsorro and Parkins. The Italian man hunched his shoulders and took a deep breath. He looked tan, his hair well-oiled, and his suit impeccable. Parkins sighed and looked around, as though he expected the ceiling to fall in at any moment.

"Let’s get some answers on this one, people."

The two men squeezed by Jaylynn’s chair. She waited to rise until they had passed, but before she could get up, the lieutenant held a hand up. "One more thing . . ." She glanced out into the hall, then turned back to the rookie. "I was serious that my guys are a bit sexist. They don’t direct it at a person, but they do seem a little small-minded at times. If they - Tsorro in particular - should say anything that offends you, I want you in my office immediately. I can rein him in any time."

She must have seen some confusion on Jaylynn’s face because she went on. "Don’t get me wrong, Savage. They’re good cops and they really are gentlemen, but in the old school sense. You’ll get the full respect befitting a lady, but some women officers have felt their competence is questioned - perhaps even denigrated."

"I’ve got to admit, that’s nothing new to me."

Finn chuckled. "Don’t sit out there stewing. If you need to blow off steam about anything they say, come in. I need to know what’s going on, if you’re unhappy, running into roadblocks, having difficulties with any aspect of the job, whether it’s minor or major. Question their assumptions. Ask for clarifications. Be a pain in their hide all you want." Now she was grinning. "They need a little of that."

"You can count on it."

"You’ll learn a lot, Officer. They really know their stuff. Make ’em share it." She winked. "Also, if you like, this is plainclothes division. You can wear your uniform, but you can also dress business casual if you’d rather."

"I’ll stick with the uniform, Lieutenant. I think it would be better than wearing civvies which might give other officers the wrong idea.

Finn paused a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I see your point." She rose then, and Jaylynn did, too, following her out to the floor where she was assigned a desk right across from Tsorro’s so that his phone could be slid over for her use. After some initial instructions and encouragement from Zorro and Tonto, she scooted up to the big desk and gazed at the stack of paperwork in front of her.

From across the room, Parkins said, "Want a little advice?"

She looked over, raising her eyebrows.

"Start at the beginning and work forward." He put a toothpick between his lips as he strode toward the desk and came to stand next to it. Putting a sizable thigh on the edge of her desk, he lowered himself and half sat there, arms crossed, as he worked the toothpick with one side of his mouth and talked through the other side. "Re - read your own initial report, then look over the crime scene lab work. Examine the photos first, then the scene description and sketches, our reports, then the autopsy report. And finally, you’ve got a multitude of witness statements to review. The lieutenant was right. This’ll take you the better part of the day." He patted the desk twice. "It’ll keep you going into tomorrow I bet. Meantime, me and Zorro are off to track some of these reluctant witnesses at their workplaces. We’ll check back in toward the end of the day, ’kay?"

She smiled. "Thanks. I’m going to do exactly what you said."

"I tried to stack things up in a linear progression - might’ve got it off on a few items, so watch for that."

"Okay, Parkins. I appreciate it."

He rose with a sigh. "May as well call me Tonto. Everyone else does." He shook his head wearily and walked back over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out some keys. "Ready to roll?" Parkins said to his partner.

With a nod, Tsorro adjusted his suit, buttoned the jacket, and strolled past. "Later, doll," he called over his shoulder as he shot his cuffs.

Jaylynn snickered. She looked over her left shoulder to see the lieutenant staring out inquisitively from her small office. The rookie raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Finn nodded once, then looked back down at her paperwork, and Jaylynn opened the first folder of reports.

* * *

Hours passed, punctuated by a quick sandwich and an occasional call. Parkins had forwarded his phone to Tsorro’s line one, which Jaylynn understood she would soon be answering. Line two calls were transferred internally from other desks or departments and were unlikely to be about this investigation, so she was to concentrate on line one. She figured she may as well start taking messages right away, since it would save the detectives time. When a Tivoli witness returned a previous call and stated he was ready to meet with the investigators, she put him on hold, and went to the lieutenant’s office to ask what she should do.

"They’re out in the field now, but they’ve got cell phones." Finn reached down and opened a drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper, and held it out for Jaylynn. The rookie entered the office and accepted the sheet. "This is a list of every detective’s cell and pager. You’ll get an occasional misdirected call, too, so if it sounds like something important, relay it out. When in doubt, just come ask me."

Jaylynn thanked her, and went back to the desk. She called Parkins, gave him the name and address for the witness, and was told that they could be to that location in twenty minutes. She rang off, picked up the other phone, and got back to the man on hold to explain. When she hung up, she picked up a legal pad and started a four column log: Caller’s Name, Address, Phone Number, Notes.

She went back to the crime scene reports. The photos had been harrowing - and sad. Although the medical exam had fixed the man’s chronological age at as much as a decade older, Tivoli had only been age 36. The medical examiner’s report indicated that he already had the beginning of hardening of the arteries as well as lungs damaged by heavy smoking. Still, he probably had many years before him. She knew he didn’t deserve to have his life end in such a brutal way.

Even worse was the girl’s murder. Jaylynn gave an involuntary shudder when she thought of the terror the young teenager had known in those last few seconds of her life. The evidence and the M.E.’s report verified that Tivoli had been shot in the right side of the parietal region of his brain. He had been kneeling in the trailer at the time. The girl, in contrast, had been shot in the back as she opened the screen door to the snack shack. They knew this because she had been spattered with blood not her own, and she left a smeared footprint near the victim. She was in the shack at the time of the shooting, but had somehow managed to get up and to the door. Once hit by the .38 caliber bullet, she tumbled down the stairs, out onto the parking lot cement, and somehow got onto her hands and knees. Exactly fourteen feet, three inches, from the foot of the metal stairs, she had dragged herself, over into the shadows behind the snack stand. Her life ended there with a gunshot to very nearly the same spot in the back of her head, parietal lobe, right side.

Jaylynn came up for air and focused her bleary eyes up at the ceiling. A right-handed killer. That rules out about twelve percent of the U.S. population. She arched her back and shifted in her chair, then looked around the homicide squad room. After years of watching NYPD Blue and Homicide: Life on the Street, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself in a cramped, dingy, dirty hole of an office. Instead, the large windows let in light. Clean walls were painted beige, the carpeting was relatively new, and the place actually looked downright cheery. But it was cramped. There were desks angled into every nook and cranny, on either side of the windows, next to the pipes that ran along one wall, and pushed right up against the large support pillars throughout the room. She sat in one of four desks placed end to end up the middle of the room. It was tight, but workable. At the moment, there were two other detectives in the room, working studiously at computers, she assumed compiling reports. She was surprised at how quiet it was.

She went back to the pile of reports before her and began examining pages and pages of copies of fingerprint lift cards. She discovered that the investigators had had a stroke of good luck. Someone they assumed to be the shooter had left partial prints on the inner and outer frame of the metal doorway, part of which was made all the more vivid by the fact that one finger had pressed against a speckle of blood. Most of the palm print was smeared as though the assailant had grabbed the frame and pulled himself through in a hurry, but it was a big palm print, presumably a man’s. Jaylynn paged through the sheets of fingerprint information and the results received from the FBI’s AFIS - the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. The submissions had gone to the AFIS computers less than 24 hours after the murders, and the results were returned electronically one day later. Tivoli was a positive match. Seven other prints from inside the shack, including the bloody ones, were unknown. The prints for the Jane Doe were unknown. It was unlikely that AFIS would have had her prints on file. Jaylynn remembered learning that the feds had about thirty five million prints, but unless this teenage girl had been arrested for something major and fingerprinted, she wouldn’t show up in their records.

She was disappointed to see that the prints from the doorjamb were not identified. The preponderance of prints lifted from the scene came from Tivoli and the girl. There were also prints from the three young boys on the shelf that stuck out from the snack shack. She found the cards for Sai Vang, his cousin Xiong Vang, and the other boy, Pao Lee. Many other prints were taken from that shelf, but she speculated that the killer’s weren’t there. None of them matched the doorframe prints, and she thought it unlikely that he - or possibly she - had ever touched the shelf. The murderer had entered the shack intent on killing. He probably never approached the window.

Jaylynn looked at her watch. 6:20 already. She had been sitting in the same place for the better part of the last two hours. Her left shoulder throbbed, and she felt a deep ache somewhere in the vicinity of her collarbone. The skin there also itched, but she resisted the temptation to scratch, knowing that it would only cause problems, maybe even make it bleed. All her shoulder and neck muscles ached, so she stood and tried to stretch and move without causing any pain. While occupied with the reports, she had been able to ignore it. Now it was time to take some ibuprofen and move around a little. She strode down the hallway and filled up a cup at the water cooler.

She had just swallowed the pills and thrown away the paper cup when her pager went off. Looking at the display, she saw a familiar number and smiled. Holding her slinged arm close to her, she cut through a group of cops blocking her way in the hallway. From Tsorro’s phone she dialed the number. "What’s up?"

The reception was clear. "I get dinner break at 6:30. Want me to meet you there at the station?"

"Sure. Where are you now?"

"Turning into the lot."

Jaylynn smiled. "No wonder this sounds so clear. Meet you in the lunch room?"

"Yup."

The connection broke. She put the phone back on the cradle, and went to the lieutenant’s office. "Do you mind if I take a dinner break, ma’am?"

A tired looking pair of brown eyes met hers. "I hate being called ma’am, Savage. Boss, Lieutenant, even sir - but ma’am?"

With a sheepish look on her face, Jaylynn said, "No problem, boss."

The lieutenant looked at her watch. "Good God. It’s already half past six." She stood, grabbing the dark blue jacket off the back of her chair. "Go take dinner break. In fact, use your own judgment whenever you need your breaks. I have to leave by seven, but first I need to check in with the Captain. Lieutenant Graul will be here shortly. You’ll report to him for the rest of your shift." She came around the desk. "You meet him before?"

Jaylynn shook her head.

"Quiet guy. He’ll answer any questions you have. Won’t take your head off if you ask something obvious. Come on. I’ll walk with you toward the lunch room - that’s where you’re going, right?"

Jaylynn nodded.

The lieutenant pulled her suit jacket on and adjusted the sleeves. "What do you think so far - of the Tivoli case, I mean." They turned and walked out into the squad room and toward the hall.

"Well, it seems to me that if we could figure out the Jane Doe’s identity, we might have something to go on." She hesitated, and when the lieutenant didn’t comment, she went on uncertainly. "But then again, Tivoli is an ex-con. I haven’t read far enough to get into the interviews and investigation of his old associates, but I assume Tsorro and Parkins are hunting up that angle."

"Oh yeah. As you read on, you’ll see that’s being looked into. Got any hunches on motive?"

"Hard to say what the motive is. They were executed. Could be drug-related, gambling, old debts, something personal?"

The lieutenant nodded. "We’re thinking it wasn’t a professional job - they wouldn’t have left fingerprints."

"I didn’t think of that. Believe me, the whole case has got me very curious."

They reached the lunchroom door, and the lieutenant paused. "That’s perhaps one of the most important qualities of a good investigator: curiosity. Talk about the case out loud to Tsorro and Parkins. Ask questions. Perhaps some odd angle or a small fact will jiggle loose, and it will give us something to go on. Fresh eyes are always an advantage."

Before Jaylynn had a chance to say anything, a six foot tall, dark-haired woman ambled up.

"Dez!" the lieutenant said.

"Hey, Denise, how’s tricks?"

"Good. Real good. You know Savage here, right?"

Dez nodded solemnly. "Been her FTO - at least until she went and had a close encounter of the tree kind."

Finn smiled. "I meant to ask you more about your injury, Savage, but I’ve been so consumed with paperwork today. I’ll get it out of you tomorrow. Gotta run now." She reached over and patted Jaylynn’s upper arm with the flat of her hand. "Keep studying, and I’ll see you tomorrow." She turned and hustled off, and Jaylynn preceded Dez into the empty lunchroom.

The smaller woman glanced over her shoulder. "How do you know the lieutenant?"

"She was on patrol over in our sector when I first joined. We know each other pretty well. She and Ryan rode together sometimes. Then she made sergeant and got reassigned across town."

"She seems to know her stuff, and she’s quite pleasant."

"Yeah. Denise has always been able to handle people well. That’s probably how she has moved ahead like she has." The dark-haired cop pulled a chair out and lowered herself into it.

The room was small and claustrophobic and contained only two tables and eight chairs total. The counter sported the smallest and deepest sink Jaylynn had ever seen, and the tiny bit of counter top was completely covered with an ancient fakey wood colored microwave with silver trim. Next to all of that sat a huge Frigidaire. Somebody must have just tidied up, though, because the counter was clean, the sink empty of any dishes or food, and when the blonde opened the refrigerator door, things inside looked orderly. She rooted around to find her own lunch bag and took it over to the table. "What? No lunch for you?"

"Not hungry yet."

"How’s the overtime shift going?"

"Quiet. Nothing much going on besides a little petty vandalism over at the junior high. What’d they give you to work on?"

Jaylynn’s eyes brightened and she set her sandwich down on the lumpy paper bag. She swallowed quickly. "They’re letting me work on the Tivoli murder! And Dez, it’s really interesting - all the evidence and what they’ve done to try to track this killer down."

The dark woman nodded. "That’ll be a real education. I hope you can help - and even if you don’t, I sure as hell want them to find the bastard who did that."

Jaylynn took another bite, and with her mouth full, said, "No kidding."

Dez reached over and picked up a napkin, stretched a long arm out to blot mayonnaise from the corner of the smaller woman’s mouth, then handed her the napkin.

Jaylynn took it, and they brushed hands. She looked up into shiny blue eyes, feeling her heart skip a beat. She chewed vigorously and swallowed. In a soft voice, barely audible, she said, "You are so sweet, Dez."

The tall woman rolled her eyes. "How many times I gotta tell you, I’m not sweet."

"You can say that all you want, but I’ll believe what I know to be true."

"Yeah, right. Let’s stick to business here, all right?" She bit back a smile and settled back into her chair, legs stretched out under the table, her hands clasped and forearms on the dark brown formica surface. "How’s your shoulder feeling?"

"Oh, that’s really business! For your information, it still hurts - not like hell - but it definitely hurts. Looks like you’ll be riding alone for quite a while."

"That’s what I figured. You still want me to come get you after work?"

"Absolutely. Or would you rather I walked home?" She grinned mischievously and took another bite.

"That’s not what I meant. If you get off at eleven, the soonest I can get up here would be around 12:15. I thought maybe you might want to go home earlier."

"Nope. I don’t mind hanging out until you come."

"What if I get a late call?"

Jaylynn looked into her paper sack. "I’ve got two more sandwiches in here and a candy machine down the hall. What more could a woman want?" She put her right hand on the blue sleeved forearm on the table. "I swear, if they’d let me, I’d take all these reports with me and read until I fell asleep. It’s just fascinating, Dez."

"That’s just what we need - a foot tall stack of police reports in our already cramped quarters."

"Oh, no. It’s way more than a foot tall. I’ll bet it’s going on two feet tall. And they still have piles of witnesses to interrogate."

"They question witnesses. Only suspects get interrogated."

"Whatever." She frowned. "Quit smirking at me. I’ll get the lingo down."

Dez grinned and shook her head. "Yeah, that’s my girl. I just bet you will."

* * *

The week passed swiftly for Jaylynn as she became familiar with all of the facts of the Tivoli case. The full tox screens came back - negative for both victims. Nothing unusual. She served well as Reception Central, scheduling interviews, taking information by phone, and relaying data to Tsorro and Parkins. She printed out motor vehicle records, requested credit bureau histories, and systematically checked every jurisdiction in the Midwest for missing teenagers fitting the description of the Jane Doe. She traced information about Tivoli’s co-conspirators and cellmates, and the detectives followed up everything local.

Finally, one day, as she sat sorting the mounds of paper and writing lists and charts to try to keep track of everything, she got so frustrated that she stomped into Lieutenant Finn’s office and requested a few minutes of her time.

"Sure, Savage. What’s up?" She motioned the rookie toward her visitor’s chair across the desk.

"It’s like this, boss. I am wasting hours of time here arranging and rearranging all this paper and trying to help Tsorro and Parkins stay organized. Why in the world doesn’t the department use databases?"

The lieutenant looked at her, surprised. "We do." Now it was Jaylynn’s turn to look startled. Finn went on. "But Tsorro and Parkins can’t be persuaded to make a giant leap into the 21st Century. You can’t even imagine what I had to go through to get them to start carrying cell phones. For the longest time, they preferred getting paged and then stopping somewhere to call." She let out a sigh. "We have C.I. Techs to help them . . ." When she saw Jaylynn didn’t understand, she said, "Criminal Intelligence Technicians - people who create the databases, follow the paper trails, sort the tips and records. But, oh no. The guys won’t even think of it. They’d rather carry around a thousand scraps of paper." She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

Jaylynn sat for a moment. "Hmm . . . is there anything to stop me from creating a database, boss - for my own organizational use, I mean?"

The lieutenant shook her head. "Go ahead. If you can sell them on the idea, I will personally put in for a commendation for you." She shook her head slowly. "But you don’t have a chance with them. I’m surprised they even watch TV."

Jaylynn laughed. She stood and moved toward the door. "Okay, boss. I am going to monkey with a database."

"Wait a minute . . ." Finn opened a drawer and pulled out a department directory and wrote a number down on a post it note. "Call this woman. She’s our best C.I. Tech, and she can give you an already created format to use."

"That would be great." The rookie accepted the slip of yellow paper. "I thought I’d have to start from scratch."

"Oh, no. We have used a good system for a few years. It’ll keep track of all sorts of stuff - names, addresses, dates of birth, interview dates, general facts, tips, conviction records, driver’s license numbers, et cetera. It’s really a great program, and you’ll be able to get that awful stack of paper off the desk once you load the data. It’ll help you keep track of what’s missing from the interviews, too, and whenever you want, you can print out cross-referenced info from other databases like arrests, convicted felons, even property records. Instead of giving the detectives little slips of handwritten paper, you can print out what you need."

"All right," she said enthusiastically. "Thanks for the help."

"I don’t know how much help it’ll be, Savage." With a twinkle in her eye, she said, "The dinosaurs you’re working with might take exception to it. Come see me if they give you a bad time."

Jaylynn returned to the desk and put the call through to the woman the lieutenant referred her to, and by the next day she was loading the data every chance she had. Despite her sore arm and slow typing, inside a week, the program was up and running. Once she had everything loaded that she could input, she pulled two print outs: one of witnesses interviewed and the other of witnesses left to interview. Instead of the sheaf of dog-eared sheets of legal paper, she handed a total of 7 sheets to Parkins saying, "Here you go. This will be easier to read." She purposely did not mention the word "database."

He looked at the labeled print-outs, then at her. "Must’ve taken a while to type all this up."

She smiled. "It’s all on the computer now, so you let me know anytime when you want a new list. I’ll keep retyping it every single day."

"Good work, Savage. Thanks." He wandered off down the hall, and Jaylynn didn’t think he looked upset at all. In fact, each day when she presented him with an updated version, he seemed quite pleased. After three days, Tsorro confronted her and demanded his own copy.

After nine days on the unit, she felt she had the entire investigation organized for anyone who came after her.

And every day, the ache in her collarbone abated a little bit more until one morning she woke up, and it didn’t hurt to lift her arm until she got it up to chin level.

She scooted up in bed, her back against the headboard. "Look at this, Dez!" She lifted her elbow up, dropped it to her side, lifted it up again.

Her sleepy companion nodded, her eyelids at half-mast, then turned over and fell back asleep.

Jaylynn was jubilant. She took off the sling she had been struggling with every night and tossed it aside hoping she never had to use it again. She got out of bed and put on slippers and her warm emerald green terrycloth robe. As she wandered downstairs to the kitchen, she stretched and moved her stiff arm with glee, then got to work pulling together the ingredients for pancakes. Today, she felt like making them with some sort of fruit, but she couldn’t find anything in the fridge except some Red Delicious apples that seemed a little too soft. She debated going to the store, but then decided cinnamon would have to do. She whipped up the batter without fruit and poured three circlets into a frying pan.

She poured maple syrup into another pan to heat, then got out eggs to scramble. For a moment, she almost took out extra eggs to make some for Dez, but then decided it would be better to wait until the tall woman made an appearance - which might not be for a while. Cracking eggs into a small Teflon fry pan and using a fork to whip and scramble them, she thought about how things had been going. She was worried about Dez. The dark-haired woman had almost seemed depressed lately. She tossed and turned half the night, and usually didn’t settle down until dawn or later. The last couple of weeks Jaylynn had been rising hours before her taciturn partner. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was just before eleven a.m., and she knew she had fallen asleep around two, awakening only once just before seven when Dez began talking in her sleep and thrashing around. Jaylynn was surprised at how poorly the big cop was sleeping. She didn’t seem to have any recollection of it when she was awakened - or at least she didn’t acknowledge that she’d had a bad dream or anything like that.

Worst of all, at this rate, their schedules were going to be so different that she didn’t think they’d get to spend much time together. It was bad enough that she was working Monday through Friday, two o’clock until eleven, while Dez worked three to midnight Wednesday through Sunday one week and Thursday through Sunday the next. She was also putting in a lot of overtime on patrol to cover the shortage of officers. The waking hours that overlapped were not many - at least not enough for Jaylynn.

She put a piece of bread in the toaster and picked up a fork to scramble the eggs again. She liked them nice and dry, with lots of salt and pepper. When the toast popped up, she flipped it onto a plate and scraped the cooked eggs on top of it, then added the three pancakes on the side. She poured the warm syrup into a small pitcher, and got herself a glass of milk.

Chewing on a piece of cinnamon - flavored pancake, she sat in the nook looking out the window into the backyard. Looks like snow. The clouds in the sky were thick, and everything in her view appeared just a little bit gray and dull. There was a stiff north wind. She could tell because all the branches on the trees were swaying to the right as if they were over-stretching.

Someone clunked down the stairs, and she hoped it might be Dez, but then she realized Dez rarely clunked when she went anywhere. Sure enough, it was Kevin. He entered the kitchen barefoot, his blond hair tousled, and wearing a royal blue pajama top with white sleeves and blue bottoms to match.

Yawning, he said, "Hey, Jay. What smells good?"

"Pancakes. Want some? I made a gallon of batter."

He yawned again. "Yeah. Thanks."

Jaylynn looked at him fondly. She could see why Tim was nuts about him. The guy even looked great in the morning with his hair standing on end. His eyes were nearly as blue as Dez’s, and he had long, graceful eyelashes, making his eyes wide and dreamy. His white-blond hair was cut short, and he allowed about an inch of sideburns. High cheekbones, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist made him a beautiful man to look at. Jaylynn had known men this handsome before who were vain, self-centered, or cruel. Not Kevin. He had a kind heart. She would bet money that his mother had loved him to pieces. He spoke highly of his parents, and so did Tim. They’d obviously raised him well.

The batter in the pan sizzled as he poured it in. "How’s your shoulder doing?" He slid into the chair across from her, appearing more awake than when he’d first walked in.

"It’s lots better. See?" She raised her arm up, feeling the tightness in her front deltoid and pectoral muscles. "It’s not back to normal yet, but it’s healing." She loosened her robe and pulled the collar of her t shirt down to reveal the reddened scar from the gash on her collarbone. "That doesn’t hurt at all anymore."

He inclined his head. "Amazing how fast the body can heal." Holding out his hand, he pointed to a scar in his palm near the base of his little finger. "I was cutting potatoes on a utility board in a kitchen once and whacked this all the way to the bone. Missed the tendon - just hurt like hell. I couldn’t close my fist for weeks. And then all of a sudden, out of the blue, it didn’t hurt anymore and never hurt since. It seems like forever . . . and then it’s over." He rose and flipped his pancakes, then returned to the table.

"I think it might take me a while to get the flexibility back. The doctor said I’d have to do a couple sessions of physical therapy to learn some exercises to do. I see somebody for that on Monday. You want me to whip you up some eggs?"

"Nah. Pancakes will be enough. Where’s Tall, Dark, and Dangerous?"

"Do you ever call her by her name?"

He grinned. "I just like to tease you. What a contrast you two make. Short and tall. Light and dark. Rowdy and quiet."

"Hey, I’m not rowdy. I’ll have you know I go hours each day sitting in one place, concentrating."

He shook his head and smiled at her. "Face it, Jay. You’re an extrovert - and big time, at that. And she’s an introvert. It’s a nice balance . . . like Tim and me. I let him make all the noise and do all the talking. She does the same thing with you."

"What’s the appeal for you then, speaking from the introvert’s point-of-view, that is."

"The show, of course. Extroverts are very entertaining. And fortunately, you need us introverts or else you wouldn’t have an audience. They’re matches made in heaven." He got up and flipped four pancakes onto a plate, then opened the refrigerator and took out the butter, which he sliced off in cold chunks and set to melting on the hot cakes. Carrying the plate over to the table, he said, "Speaking of extroverts and introverts, Bill and Sara have been real good sports lately, but how long do you think they’ll stay, being that they’re cramped up in that little room?"

Jaylynn nodded. "I’ve thought of that, too. I should give them back my room - that is, if Sara could stomach it after what happened last summer. I have thought of asking Dez if we could move over to her place, but whew! Her place is smaller than small - more like miniature. I’d probably drive her crazy. It’s really only big enough for one."

"I know Tim doesn’t want to move." Kevin poured the syrup out so fast that some splashed onto the handle of his fork. He got up and dropped it in the sink, then opened the silverware drawer and got a clean one. Returning to the table, he said, "I don’t want anyone to have to move. I like all of you." He cut into a pancake and guided a large wedge into his mouth. "Mmmm . . . I so love good pancakes."

Jaylynn rose and went to the sink to rinse her plate and put it in the dishwasher. She picked up the bowl containing the batter, intending to put it in the fridge, but Kevin spoke up. Though his mouth was full, she understood him to say, "Leave that, will you? Tim will want some, too." He finished chewing and swallowed. "Leave it all. I’ll clean up. We’re going to work on some kind of double baked cake creation he has to make for class. Ever seen anyone so compulsive? He tries out the recipe here before they do it at school."

"I don’t blame him for not wanting to screw up."

Kevin made a face and shook his head. "He’s not gonna screw up. It’s a class on experimenting with food. The whole goal is to make sure you have problems so that you can try oddball things. I tell you, he’s just compulsive."

"Who’s compulsive?" The red-haired man rounded the corner, dressed in Nikes, sweat bottoms, and a white t shirt.

Kevin smirked. "The valet at the restaurant."

"That weasel?" Tim said. "He’s too dumb to be compulsive."

Jaylynn winked at Kevin and headed out of the kitchen. She tickled Tim on the way by, then scooted out the swinging door before he could recover. Heading upstairs to take a shower, she decided she had never been quite as happy ever before as she felt lately. It was a good feeling to have.

* * *

Jaylynn sat at the desk in the crowded squad room, happy not to be wearing the sling anymore. She flexed her hand and moved her forearm and shoulder gingerly whenever she thought of it. By Monday, when she was to see the physical therapist, she hoped to have increased the flexibility even more.

It was nearly five p.m., so there was a lull in the squad room due to change of shift. Only one of the secretaries was left for the moment. Tsorro and Parkins had been out following up leads on two old cases as well as talking to various witnesses to the Tivoli murder. Jaylynn shook her head. They were getting nowhere - and not even fast. Nobody had noticed anything out of the ordinary. A few people had heard what they thought was a car backfiring during the band performance, but that didn’t help any since they already had a solid time of death for the two victims.

She went over the case in her head. At approximately 7:42 p.m. on that Saturday night, someone had confronted Tivoli in the snack shack. He - she thought of the assailant as male - forced Tivoli onto his knees, facing the south side of the trailer. The murderer was almost certainly right handed. He shot the bald man in the head, and in the process got some blood on his hands and probably also on his clothes. The physical evidence indicated that he then turned and fired through the screen door. The bullet hit the girl in the back, and she fell to the ground at the foot of the metal stairs that led up into the snack shack. The killer slammed through the screen door, grabbing the metal doorframe on the way out. He left fingerprints and a partial palm print along with a smear of Tivoli’s blood. He followed the girl, who was crawling on the cement, trying to get away, and put a bullet into the back of her head. After that, he left, but no one knew how. Nobody saw anything, and he disappeared off the face of the earth. The three Hmong boys had come upon the murders moments later. She and Dez arrived on the scene two minutes after the 911 call and secured the scene.

What were they missing? Better yet, who were they missing? Someone had to have seen something. Who was the girl? Jaylynn knew that the Jane Doe had been hanging around the snack shack for a couple days because witnesses reported seeing her. The investigation of Tivoli’s apartment had turned up a travel bag of size two clothes that contained some cheap jewelry and teen magazines as well as her fingerprints. The girl had been with him, not an innocent bystander who just happened to come by at the wrong time. The thought occurred to the rookie that without more information, more evidence, they might not ever solve this crime. I can’t let that happen. That girl, that man - they deserve to have their killer brought to justice. She closed her eyes only to have the scene swim up in her memory. The girl was such a little slip of a thing . . . she opened her eyes and exhaled quickly, shuddering, then looked out toward the light shining in the window. Whoever did this must be punished . . . .

"Hey, sweetie pie."

Jaylynn wheeled around in her chair to find Tsorro, trailed by Parkins, heading her way. Tsorro had never once called her by her name, but he had graced her with every sickeningly sweet endearment she had ever heard.

"DNA results are in, sweet bellissima." Tsorro sounded excited.

Parkins held a folder up in the air as he moved past his partner and into Lt. Finn’s office.

Tsorro’s dark eyes sparkled. "Wanna take a run down to the M.E.’s office with us and find out what the hell it all means?"

She was up on her feet in a shot. "Sure." She looked at her watch. "But don’t they close? It’s after five."

"Nah - doesn’t matter to The Corpse. He’s there until late every day, even Sundays."

Parkins came out of Finn’s office. "We’re clear to go. C’mon Jaylynn."

She hustled over to the coat rack, her forehead furrowed as she wondered who "The Corpse" was. She’d never been to the medical examiner’s office and didn’t know who worked there or even where it was located.

Parkins headed off down the hall, but Tsorro stopped to hold her heavy, down jacket for her and help her get her sore arm in. He patted her on the back once he slipped the coat over her shoulders and said, "Parkins has no manners."

Jaylynn didn’t know what to say to that. She pulled her gloves from her pocket as she turned to face the dark-haired man. "Thanks for the help. Won’t be long before my shoulder is totally back to normal."

"That’s good to hear."

She followed Tsorro out the squad room door, watching from behind as he adjusted the collar of his long coat. They stopped at the door, and he buttoned his coat, all the while gazing out the glass door. An unmarked blue sedan pulled up. "That’s our ride, doll. Let’s go."