he could deal with it, but he and Warwick were the top candidates for a promotion. If Reed just took it as the luck of the draw, then in a few months he’d probably be standing on the sidelines as Warwick accepted the promotion they’d both been pushing for. Reed was determined to use all his skills and abilities to serve the community and lead the department to greater glory in its war against crime.
After postponing his dreams of becoming an FBI agent to stick close to home to help care for his ailing mother, he’d discovered that he really liked police work. The competition for the promotions was so heated and contentious he’d learned to get in line early and make sure the folks in the head shed knew just who he was.
Reed stood, placing the reports he’d been finishing back into folders and pushing the folders into a neat pile. He headed for the captain’s office, more than aware that it was time to look out for his own interests. He’d made lieutenant on his own and he’d get the next promotion the same way.
Ean Shepherd was at his desk, chomping on an unlit cigar. Reed knew it was a bad sign. Shepherd had been trying to stop smoking all year. For the most part, he’d succeeded, but when stressed or under pressure Shepherd went back to chomping. The one concession was that most of the time it stayed unlit. “What do you want, Crawford?” he barked, spotting Reed in the doorway.
Having worked for Shepherd for two years, Reed immediately realized that he should have waited to approach the man. “I wanted to talk assignments, but if this is a bad time…”
“It ain’t gonna get any better,” Shepherd snapped. “From the mayor’s office to the brass, I’ve had my ass chewed so many times today it’s medium rare. You wait much longer I won’t have any ass left, so get in here.”
Stepping into the office and closing the door, Reed dropped down into the seat in front of the desk.
“So what’s got your jaw so tight?”
“Warwick’s working the Chicago Bears’ case and I’m still off in the weeds with a desk full of crap. Captain, I want that promotion. I need an assignment that will give me some of the same exposure and experience as he’s getting.”
Shepherd eyed him speculatively. Then he nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” A grin formed on both sides of the cigar in Shepherd’s mouth. “Crawford, I’ve got just the job for you.”
This was too easy. The sudden change in the captain made Reed do a double take. “Sir?”
Shepherd threw the soggy cigar into the trash can and tilted back in his chair. “One of the reasons they’ve been raining down the love on me is that it looks like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. With the caseload we’ve got right now, I don’t have any of my most experienced guys available to take it, but the mayor and the chief of police want a task force to take it on now. That’s where you come in, Crawford. The mayor’s already asked the FBI to help us out. They’re providing an agent who’s also a violent crimes expert. You’ll have department resources and those of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime—NCAVC—and the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program—VICAP—behind you. That’s why I can put you on this task force so that you can get the experience and a bit of the limelight. What do you think?”
Reed had never had an opportunity to work with the FBI, but knew from some of his co-workers that the agents could be an arrogant lot. On the other hand, he did know one agent, Marina Santos, who was smart, fiery and hot, and as far as you could get from arrogant. They’d almost had a thing until she’d drop-kicked him in favor of a Puerto Rican guy.
As the silence grew uncomfortably long, he pushed his thoughts past Marina. This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to pass up. Besides, what were the chances of Marina, out of all the agents working crime in the local office, being assigned to work the task force with him? He spoke confidently. “I want to take on the assignment, sir. I think I could do us proud.”
Captain Shepherd flashed him an evil grin and tapped his fingers on the oak desk. “You’d better. I want you to catch this killer before he or she kills again. And don’t get tight-assed about working with the Feds. Some of them are okay guys and gals.”
Reed nodded. “Yes, sir. Can you give me some detail on this serial killer case?”
“Someone’s out there killing young men and mutilating the bodies. We’ve got two bodies identified right now and suspect there’s more. The latest victim was Elliot Washington, a friend of the mayor’s daughter. His body was found this morning floating in the pool over at the Hartford Hotel. Both men were in their mid to late twenties. Both had been stabbed and castrated.”
Ouch! Reed swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was definitely an interesting case. He could only imagine the motivation behind someone taking the time to murder and castrate someone.
The captain studied him, looking for a sign of weakness. “Still think you can do this task force deal?”
Reed nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m ready to roll on it. Just give me the names and I’ll pull the files.”
“No need for that.” The captain handed him two folders. The one on top had Washington’s name on it. “You can do a search on the system to see if you can come up with the others.”
“Thank you.” Reed accepted the files and rose.
“One other thing, Crawford. Since Farrell is still in the hospital, you can use his office as the task force office for now. I had Betty put away his things.”
Thanking him again, Reed got out of his office. He was excited at the prospect of putting a face to whoever killed Washington and the other guy, and catching the killer before he could kill again. The only potential bug on his butt was the FBI agent he’d have to work with. He’d heard enough stories to make his hands curl into fists.
On the way back to his desk Reed tried to relax. If the FBI sent a snot-nosed, tight-assed wonder boy, he’d just have to make him see the light. He could do that, couldn’t he? He’d show him that the C.P.D. was truly a world-class team.
Chapter 2
Marina drove over to the Twenty-fourth District Town Hall Station on Halstead and sweet-talked the guard into letting her park in the police lot. She could have gone inside first, shown her badge and gotten a permit, but there was nowhere close to park and she wasn’t taking any chances with someone trying to steal her sports car. That was her baby.
Inside the station, she straightened her shoulders, flashed her badge at the officer on the desk and informed him that she had arrived for the task force.
He stared at her, obviously having a hard time lifting his gaze above her breasts. Marina’s breasts were 38Ds, so she got that a lot, but it didn’t mean she had to like the extra attention. “Officer, is there a problem?” she asked, hardening her tone.
He immediately lifted his gaze to make eye contact. “No. No, ma’am, no problem.” Then he checked a list and directed her to a room around the corner and across the hall.
Deeper into what she’d jokingly named the Den of Testosterone, Marina peered into the small, smoked-glass window on the office where she’d been directed. With his back to her, a caramel-skinned man with a head full of thick dark hair sat at a desk, his head bent over a file. She guessed that he was her new partner on the task force, already hard at work. She fleetingly thought those wide muscular shoulders and well-shaped head looked familiar. She opened
