Page 27 of Kill For Me Kill For You
Farrow looked at Hernandez. She slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and stared at him for a second before she turned her attention back to the carpet.
‘No, we do not have a suspect yet,’ said Farrow.
‘But he’s out there now,’ said Ruth.
‘I know he is. And when he makes a mistake we’re going to catch him. We figured out that there was a paramedic call to someone on your block around the time of the attack that night. It was those sirens that spooked him, made him run. Next time maybe he won’t be so lucky.’
‘Next time? You mean you hope he makes a mistake or gets caught when he tries to kill someone else? That’s not good enough,’ said Ruth.
Hernandez must’ve felt she had to come to Farrow’s defense. She stepped forward and said, ‘We canvassed the neighborhood – that’s how we found out about the ambulance. We’ve checked security footage and went over every inch of your house and the grounds. There’s no trace of the prowler.’
As soon as she’d spoken that final word, Farrow shot her a look.
‘The prowler? Is that what you call him?’ asked Scott.
‘No, that’s what some of the papers call him,’ said Farrow. He didn’t tell them that Hernandez and some of the other cops at the precinct now had another name for the perp. They’d started calling him Mr. Blue-eyes.
‘So that’s it? Go home, see a psychiatrist, pray he doesn’t come back for me and just try to forget about all this? Is that what you’re saying to me?’ said Ruth, tears in her eyes.
‘We’ll get this guy, but we have to be realistic. Even if you ID him, identification evidence on its own probably won’t be enough to get a conviction beyond all reasonable doubt. That’s just the way the law works. I’m sorry. We are doing everything possible to find this man. Look, we are concerned about you, Ruth. You haven’t left this room in almost two months and I think you should—’
She cut him off. ‘I should what? See a shrink? I don’t need a shrink. You think I don’t want to go outside? Do you think I don’t want to go back to my life? My job?’
Farrow stayed quiet, and simply nodded as she spoke.
‘I want this to be over, Detective,’ she said. ‘The truth is I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified. He’s somewhere out there, right now. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I don’t want to be afraid any more. I want you to catch the man who tried to kill me. That’s what I want. That’sallI want from you. No amount of counseling or medication is going to ease that fear until he’s behind bars.’
12
Farrow
Hernandez pulled out of the Paramount Hotel parking lot and joined the throng of New York traffic. Neither she nor Farrow had spoken since they’d left the hotel room. There was little they could say.
‘Fuck this guy,’ said Hernandez, breaking the silence.
‘Which guy? The prowler?’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry I dropped that name in there.’
‘Mr. Blue-eyes would’ve sounded alotworse, I think.’
‘I just can’t believe we don’t have a forensic hit yet. Literally nothing.’
Farrow nodded, said, ‘I think if there was a trace, our people would’ve found it. This is not a fuck-up in the tech department. Mr. Blue-eyes is very careful, but, even at that, it’s incredible that he’s not given us a single fiber yet. How does he work so clean? It’s not a controlled crime scene. He kills at the victim’s home, so it’s unfamiliar territory. He doesn’t know what the hell he’ll be facing inside. And yet he’s never so much as dropped a single hair off his goddamned head.’
‘Maybe he cleans up?’ said Hernandez, then leaned on the horn as a cab stopped dead in the lane ahead to pick up a passenger.
‘How could he clean himself? There’s blood everywhere. He must be covered in spatter.’
‘Hazmat suit?’
‘Doesn’t fit the description given by Ruth.’
‘You could hardly call it a description. Maybe that’s why he knocks them out with the chloroform, so he can get changed into a suit before he starts to work?’
‘That sounds plausible,’ said Farrow. ‘Unfortunately, those suits are sold all over the US, and I’m sure there’s a black market for them too, just like the chloroform. I’ve seen those suits used in meth cook houses. We’re not going to trace him that way.’
Hernandez swore, smacked the wheel.
