Face of a Killer

16

Undoubtedly, Sydney thought, as she stood there surveying the picnic area, Mr. Big Belt Buckle had failed to locate this as part of his crime scene.

Carillo called Dixon to let him know what they found, and to request the Evidence Response Team to come process the scene. “And tell the ERT to bring a panel truck, something large enough to haul off an entire picnic table. Looks like the asshole stabbed her so hard, the knife went right through to the wood.”

He disconnected. Eventually they moved into the car to get out of the constant wind, and Sydney knew she needed to act like her head was in the game, and not miles and years away on her father’s case. She took the time to write up her notes on the scene, draw a sketch of the picnic area and what they’d found and where. It wasn’t until they were driving back to the city that Carillo looked over at her, asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. You know, thinking about the case. What we found out there.”

He shook his head, no doubt recalling the grisly scene at the picnic table.

Back at their office, they booked their evidence, wrote up their reports for Dixon. Sydney intended on staying to finish the overdue Harrington case. Carillo was giving his report one last read-through before printing it off, when his phone rang. “Hey, Scotty… Yeah, working late. Picked up a Jane Doe from Hill City.”

She listened with one ear as he told Scotty about the case and what they’d found at the crime scene. In the empty office, with Carillo’s desk only four cubicles down from hers, she couldn’t help but hear his side of the conversation. What she couldn’t hear was Scotty’s side of things, and for a while there, it seemed Scotty was doing all the talking, as Carillo merely said, “That right?” or “No kidding.” She did not hear her name once, she thought, and for that she was grateful. A few minutes later, Carillo was walking past her desk to turn in his reports. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat across the street. You want anything?”

“I’ll get something later,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

“We should hit Golden Gate Park pretty early to go over the Tara Brown crime scene, see if we can’t dig up any more evidence.” He rapped his knuckles on her desk. “By the way, thanks for your help today. You did good.” He continued on to Dixon’s office, turned in his reports, then retraced his steps, stopping long enough to pick up his overcoat, his keys. He stood there a moment, eyeing her. “You’ve been pretty quiet. Even for you. Something up? Something you want to talk about?”

She hesitated, not used to Carillo showing empathy. Maybe she should have tried to talk to him weeks ago when she first realized he didn’t like working cases with her. “Just the work. Wondering how I’m going to get it all done.”

He held her gaze a moment, nodded. “Know that feeling. See you around.”

Maybe it was the quiet of the office, or even the thought that she didn’t want to go home just yet, be alone. Just as he reached the door, she called out, “Carillo?”

He stopped, looked at her.

She thought of every reason why she shouldn’t say a thing, the fact he was friends with Scotty being foremost in her mind. “I think I’ll go get that sandwich with you, after all.”

“So there is something you want to talk about?”

“Yes-no. I mean, I want to, I’m just not sure I can.” She sounded like an idiot, she knew that. But when it came to her father and his murder, she was an emotional mess. “It’s… sort of personal.”

“Is this another one of those things where I’m gonna have to be nice and pretend I’m interested and all that?”

“You need alcohol for that?”

“Copious amounts.”

“I’ll buy.”