Chapter 15–Tuesday, 8:40AM

The chief was furious. “Six hours!” he was shouting into his cell phone as he sped toward the station. “Peachmeyer kept me for six hours after I woke up! Wanted to make sure there wasn’t any brain damage. Didn’t want me to be a vegetable for life! The good doctor’s judgment’s a bit fuzzy, if you know what I mean?!”

“I’m sure he meant well,” Monica’s voice came back.

“Meant well! I’ve got work to do. Laying around in a hospital did me no good at all. Why’d you take me to St. Prune’s anyway? I would’ve come to on my own.”

Monica didn’t respond. After a moment’s pause, Herb signed off. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Snapping the phone shut, he dropped it into the console and drove on – lights flashing, siren blaring.

Linda, glanced at her boss from the passenger’s seat. She was worried. “Chief...don’t you think you...”

“Shut up, Linda! Shut up!”

Herb stared straight ahead as he plunged through another intersection. The car’s interior was silent except for an occasional squawk from the radio. No time for chit chat about his health and state of mind. He was fine! Bloody Mary! He was fine!

Herb hit the curb hard as he pulled up outside the station five minutes later. Linda gasped. Herb ignored her. Jerking the keys from the ignition, he leapt from the car and sprinted for the front door. Bursting through the door, he shouted, “Truman! VBI team! Briefing room, now! No one else!” He blew by the dispatcher’s desk, past his office door and marched down the hall. There was a momentary pause and then everyone got back to work.

Marge paged the lab as Linda pushed through the front door. The city’s lone female officer stopped three feet in, looking lost.

“You okay?” Marge asked as she finished with Truman.

Linda smiled weakly as she turned toward the dispatcher’s desk. “Not sure, Marge.” She remained motionless, stalk still. Grief threatened to take her. “Not sure,” she repeated. Then she walked quietly down the hall.

The chief was shouting as Linda approached the briefing room. “One of our own is gone! We will find his killer.” Linda attempted to slip past the door unseen, but spotting her, the boss demanded her presence. She shrugged and slid into a back row seat. She had no where else to go anyway. Her office was a crime scene.

Taking a breath, Herb continued. “Now, tell me what we know. Truman, you first. And don’t worry about confidentiality. Everyone here is trusted. Tell me everything you know.”

The GCPD tech team leader took a deep breath. “There’s not much to tell, chief. String’s dead. Shot with a V8 Juicer, semi-vegamatic. Silenced, of course. His murderer took the spent shell from the scene. No unusual prints in the office whatsoever. Linda’s. String’s, of course. Mine. I was in there before Linda left yesterday, checking to make sure String could use her workstation. Woodstalk’s. A couple of other officers’ prints. Yours, too. We’re all in and out of there, sir. The prints tell us nothing.

“As for the background checks, we finished what String hadn’t completed. Everyone was clean. Ted took it on himself to run the rest of the businesses. A speeding ticket here and there, but otherwise spotless.”

“The digital signature on the photo?” Herb asked.

“Nothing yet, sir,” Truman confessed. “And no luck on the phone call either. We think we’re close, but the software’s not doing what it’s supposed to do. Whoever erased the log knew commercial and law enforcement protocols and blocked both. Capote and I are trying to put together a new decoder. We think it’ll do the trick, but it’s not ready yet. We need another hour or two. Should have something by noon.”

“Nothing!” Herb shook his head. “We’ve got nothing.”

“We have the photo, sir.” Truman offered.

“That image is worthless, Tru. Worthless. It’s been sent to every law enforcement agency within a hundred miles. It’s been posted all over town. It’s on the web and on TV. And how many calls have we received concerning these stalkers, killers, monsters, whatever you want to call them?” Herb let the question hang for a full twenty seconds. They’d received no calls.

“Does anyone have anything else?” The chief paused again. No one spoke.

“Go,” Herb said finally, softly. “Do your decoding and deciphering.”