Play dead

FORTY

Four Detectives met in the duty room of the Homicide unit.

The second tour had started a few hours earlier, and the last-out detectives had to find somewhere to talk. Desks in the unit were shared- you were lucky to get a drawer in a file cabinet these days. That cop-show myth about how every gold-badge detective had their own desk with a cheap vase with a flower in it and two or three framed photos of their kids was just that, a myth. The reality was, once a tour ended, the next group of detectives took over the desks, and if you were still working you had to find somewhere else fast. Theoretically, every detective cared about every other detective's case, but Roundhouse reality was all about geography.

If it's my tour, my ass is entitled to the real estate.

There was no whiteboard, no chalkboard. Just four detectives crammed into one of the alcoves off the main hallway. A dozen photographs graced one of the desks, a desk hastily cleared of coffee cups, eclairs, muffins.

Jessica, Byrne, Josh Bontrager, and Josh's partner Andre Curtis.

Every homicide unit in the country had a detective who wore hats-homburgs, porkpies, Borsalinos-and Dre Curtis was PPD Homicide's resident lid man. Finding the right hat for his mood was a ritual with him, but he only wore his hat in the elevator and corridors, never in the office. Jessica had once watched him take ten minutes to get the brim right on his beloved grey Rosellini Luauro fedora.

Josh Bontrager was probably partnered with Dre Curtis for no other reason than that they could not have been more different. A kid who had grown up Amish in rural Pennsylvania, and a smooth-talking homeboy, a former gangbanger, from the Richard Allen Homes in North Philly. So far, they had been an effective team.

Byrne let everyone settle in. He got their attention, then recapped both cases, including their visit to Laura Somerville's apartment, and her suicide, and their visit with Iggy Sanz.

"Do we have any forensics tying the two victims together?" Dre Curtis asked.

"We do not," Byrne said. "Not yet. But we just got the preliminary DNA results back on the remains found on Second Street. The heart in the specimen jar belonged to Monica Renzi."

Byrne held up a document. It was the activity log from the Caitlin O'Riordan file.

"There are three interviews missing from the O'Riordan binder. These interviews were conducted by Detective Roarke on May third. We don't have full names on these witnesses, just their street names- Daria, Govinda, and Starlight. It's not much, but it's an entry point."

"What about the detective's notes?" Bontrager asked.

"Missing," Byrne said. "But just the notes for these three. The interviews are logged on the activity sheet, but there's no paper for them." He placed the activity log back into the binder. "All the runaway shelters in Philly have been notified and briefed."

Runaways from Philadelphia were handled by the divisional detectives. They were never called runaways officially. They were always referred to as missing persons. When a runaway was missing from another city, and it was reported to the police there, the information went on NCIC. Sometimes the information was posted to the FBI website.

"Detective Park is collating FBI sheets on active runaways over the last year from Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Maryland, and Ohio. He is also assembling reports of any DOA Jane Does from the past three years between the ages of twelve and twenty."

Byrne pulled up a city map on the computer screen. "Let's go where runaways congregate." he said. "The bus station, the train station, the malls, the parks, South Street. Let's make sure we hit Penn Treaty Park."

Penn Treaty Park, where William Penn signed a peace treaty with the chief of the Lenape clan, was a small park on the western bank of the Delaware River in Fishtown. It was somewhat secluded, and therefore a popular destination for runaways and drug transactions.

"Unfortunately, there's a good chance that the kids who were on the streets six months ago have moved on or have gone home, but we all know there's a network out there. Somebody saw these girls. They came into town and they never left." Byrne looked up. "Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"We meet downstairs in an hour."