A perfect alias to adopt, whether Troy's father was dead or alive when he first borrowed the name. Wilson was unlikely to come down from his cabin any time soon, had no way to be contacted by authorities while he was holed up, and had no criminal record if anyone were to do a name check.
"Tomorrow morning, Shauna, there'll be pictures of Wilson in the newspaper. Only his real name is Troy Rasheed, and he's the guy we're looking for. We just came from the place his father lives-his name was Wilson-and he's been killed, too."
The girl was listening now, looking at my face.
"You can wait till the morning and read it in the newspapers or check it out online, or you can believe what I'm telling you and try to call Frank Shea-or Kiernan-right now. We need Kiernan's help. We need any little bit of information he has about Troy-the complete name he was using, where he said he was living, whether he had access to a car of any kind, all-"
"What's in it for my brother?"
"I'm handling one of the murder cases. I can work a deal on the problems he's facing about Ruffles. I can probably-"
"Probably? Well, that really sucks. You expect Kiernan to help you and maybe you're going to do something for him? Maybe?"
"It's not entirely up to me, Shauna. There's a judge, of course," I said, and there was also the fact that I couldn't get a handle on why Kiernan Dylan had admitted cleaning out Amber Bristol's apartment. There'd be no guarantees until he explained that fact to us.
We both started at the sound of a door slamming. Mike was walking along the hydrangea-lined path toward the car, and from within the house I could hear Jimmy Dylan shouting. "Shauna? You upstairs already?"
"In a minute, Dad."
She got to her feet and I did, too. I took a card from the pocket of my pants and handed it to her. "Don't wait until morning, I'm begging you. Kiernan's best chance to help himself is in the next few hours, before everybody sees Troy's picture."
Shauna took the card with my cell number as well as my office phone and read my name aloud. "Alexandra Cooper."
"There's no reason for Kiernan to be protecting this guy. Troy's killed at least four people these last few weeks, including his own father. He's in too much of a frenzy to stop himself. It's likely to be someone just like you he'll hurt-a young woman with her whole life ahead of her."
"Now you're blaming Kiernan for protecting a man he hardly knows?" she said, stuck on my first sentence, turning toward the back door of the house. "That's so stupid."
"Kiernan told us about my victim, Shauna. Connected himself to her after she disappeared. If he's been covering something up for Troy Rasheed, it'll go better for him if he explains that to us sooner rather than later."
"You don't get it, Alexandra, do you?" Shauna Dylan said, pulling at the handle on the screen door as she burst into tears again. "You don't get why my whole family is broken up."
"I understand how painful it must be, how-"
"You understand nothing," Shauna said, letting the door close behind her and turning out the overhead light on the porch. "Kiernan thinks it's my father who killed that whore. Accused him of it when he came home from court yesterday. It's our own father he's been trying to protect.
FORTY-FOUR
Igot squat from Jimmy Dylan," Mike said. "What the hell were you doing out in the rain? "Chatting up one of his daughters."
Mike made a U-turn and headed back to the Belt Parkway. "I know it's a bad simile in light of poor Wilson Rasheed's demise, but I practically fell on my sword in there to get some help from Dylan."
"Metaphor."
"Whatever. The girl know anything?"
"I keep going back to your interrogation of Kiernan. If Troy murdered all three women, why did Kiernan admit packing up Amber Bristol's belongings? And why did we find them in Rasheed's house? "You think they're a team, Kiernan and Troy? "I can't imagine that. But the girl says there was a big blow-up when Kiernan came home after his arraignment."
"About?"
"He accused his father of killing Amber Bristol. Look at it from Kiernan's perspective."
"Good job, Alex," Mercer said, thinking it through slowly. "Suppose Amber came to Ruffles, maybe after her Friday night session with Herb Ackerman, at his office. She'd been fighting with Jimmy for weeks 'cause he was trying to break things up."
"And he'd booted her out of the Brazen Head," Mike said. "We need to get to Kiernan as soon as possible," Mercer said. "I've got his sister working on it-well, thinking about it, at least."
"If Amber was a nuisance to Kiernan, he might have put her right in the hands of a deadly predator hungry for his first kill. What if he told the bouncer to get rid of her," Mike said. "Figuratively speaking- or is that a metaphor for something, too?"
"Could have done that without even knowing the guy was a freak," I said. "And Shauna Dylan also told me Troy was using his father's name. He goes by Wilson."
Mercer reached his arm over the seat back and high-fived me. "She going to call her brother?"
"No promises. I told her it had to happen before morning if it's to be of any use. She's got my cell number."
"Where's your car, Mercer?" Mike asked.
"Seems like a few days ago, but I have a vague memory of parking down at the courthouse this morning. Alex, you mind if I use your dining room table for a few hours?"
"I don't need-"
"I know you don't. I just don't feel like taking the extra time to drive all the way home and back into Manhattan at the crack of dawn. Wake Vickee up just to aggravate her and not even get to see the baby. Might as well start going through the files Nelly Kallin gave us till my eyes give out."
Mike's apartment, not far from my own, was too small for even a sofa. Mercer had crashed at my place many times over the years, and this way he would get a jump on reading the information that Commissioner Scully-and Battaglia-would want by midday.
Mike dropped us in front of the door and we each carried a bundle of folders to the elevator.
"I can't even begin to help you tonight," I said to Mercer. "I've got to get a few hours of sleep. The guest room is all made up, when you're ready."
"I don't like the fact that he's out there, Alex. We're losing this race."
"I'll see you in the morning," I said, closing the door to my bedroom after spreading out the files on the long formal table where Mercer liked to work.
I took a steaming hot shower, slipped on a nightgown, and got into bed. As exhausted as I was, Mike was right. When I closed my eyes, I watched either a replay of Kerry Hastings being dragged along the street when the taxicab was rear-ended or saw the body of Wilson Rasheed pinned to the floor of his cabin.
I tossed and turned until shortly after six thirty, when I was sure I heard voices in my living room. I got up, wrapped a robe around me, and went out to look.
Mike was standing over Mercer's shoulder, and both were drinking coffee.
"How did you get in here? Did I sleep through the bell?"
"I called Mercer on his cell. He opened the door."
"What's wrong?"
"There's another girl gone missing, Coop. A twenty-year-old named Pam Lear."
"Twenty," I said, cringing at the thought of another victim in the hands of this monster. "What do you know?"
"It happened sometime between Sunday evening and yesterday morning. Her roommate on Long Island reported her missing when she didn't come home again last night. The Suffolk County cops are on their way in with the roommate now. We were just waiting for you to wake up so we can have a go at her."
"Where was Pam last seen?"
"At her job, Coop. On Sunday," Mike said, hitching his thumb on his belt. "She was a summer intern, a guide with the National Park Service."
"Does that mean a uniform?"
"Light brown shirt and dark brown trousers. Smokey Bear hat."
"What park?" I asked. "Where?"
"Fort Tilden. An abandoned army post."
"Not quite as dramatic as Governors Island," Mercer said, "but another military ghost town."