Alpha Ascending Page 4

  With a final wave, Winters strode away from her desk. Sofia turned to her computer, checking her emails and trying to concentrate on the case file currently sitting on top of her inbox. But, try as she might, her mind kept drifting. She opened her top drawer, staring at the contents. Inside was a photo of a woman wearing a complete police uniform, her smile wide.

  I miss you, Mom.

  Normally, she had her mother’s portrait on her desk, but lately, she was afraid something would happen to it. A couple weeks ago, she found it lying face down on her desk. Despite the many times she would prop it back up, she would come to work with the frame disturbed. She knew what that gesture meant. That even her own mother would be ashamed to look at her. Which was ironic.

  Always do what’s right. Even if the whole world is against you.

  She would never forget her mother’s words, and she would be damned if she lost her integrity at this job.

  With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and went to work. Finally, it was the end of the day, and she could go home. She walked into the empty locker room so she could get changed before heading to the gym.

  “Motherfucker!” She exclaimed when she opened her locker. Inside was a dead rat, lying on top of her running shoes. “Goddammit!”

  Really, she should have been used to it by now. Months and months of disdainful looks, anger, and even the small “pranks” like leaving dead pigeons in her desk drawer. But she refused to back down, even ignoring pleas from her family. In her heart, she did the right thing. And she was still paying for it.

  TGIFF.

  Thank God It’s Fucking Friday.

  Though Sofia didn’t sleep any better last night, she was at least looking forward to the weekend. Her dad and grandfather would be expecting her to come home, so she would at least be able to relax, eat something other than instant ramen or takeout, and maybe even visit Mom’s grave.

  At around ten o’clock, she was heading out to get a cup of coffee when her phone rang. “Selinofoto,” she answered.

  “Detective, this is dispatch,” the businesslike voice said on the other end. “We need you on a scene. Homicide.”

  “Send me the details, and I’ll be right there.” Hanging up the phone without another word, she grabbed her keys and headed for her car. She checked her phone for the address and after making a quick mental note, drove to the scene. With midtown traffic, it took her a good twenty minutes to get there.

  The address that dispatch gave her was right at the edge of their jurisdiction. It looked like a couple of cops from the neighboring district had been called in, because she didn’t recognize the uniformed officers guarding the yellow tape draped across the alley. She approached the officers and held up her badge.

  “Detective,” one of them greeted as he lifted the tape for her.

  “One of you come with me,” she said as she crossed under the tape. They hesitated, but then the younger officer followed her into the crime scene.

  It was a standard alley between two buildings, wide enough for only a sidewalk and a one-way street to fit through. The other side had also been secured with yellow tape, and a black and white was parked to block the entrance. It was mostly empty, except for the lump on the ground right in the middle of the sidewalk. Dead Body. Or D.B. for short.

  The smell was the first thing she noticed as she drew closer to the body. It shouldn’t have stunk, seeing as it was winter, but it wasn’t the usual smell of a rotting corpse. Piss and shit. Huh. And when she was standing next to the body, she realized the source of the stench. A colostomy bag lay next to the body, its contents oozing out.

  She’d been around her share of dead bodies before, so it didn’t bother her too much. The young officer, however, looked a little pale. “First D.B?” she asked.

  “Y-yes ma’am.”

  Probably fresh out of the academy. She remembered what it was like. “What’s your name?”

  “Chen, ma’am. Barry Chen.”

  “Breathe through your mouth, Officer Chen. Can you tell me what happened?”

  The officer opened his mouth to take in a deep breath. “A delivery guy found the body and then called 911. We got here about twenty minutes ago, confirmed that he was dead, and then secured the scene.”

  “Did you find anything unusual? Anyone hanging around?”

  “Had a couple of looky-loos, but we shooed them away.”

  “Good.” She kneeled down to get a closer look at the body. “Jesus,” she muttered under her breath. The man’s face was bloody and beaten, the features unrecognizable. The front of his coat was open, and his shirt was covered in blood. There was a sizable dent on his skull where blood and bits of gray matter had oozed out.

  “Looks like he was beaten to death,” Chen said. “We searched, but didn’t find any weapons nearby.”

  The crime lab would be able to confirm how and when the guy died, but this couldn’t have been an accident. She put on a pair of gloves, then checked his pockets and took out a sealed plastic bag. “Huh.” Unzipping the bag, she took out a wallet, some keys, and a hundred-dollar bill. The wallet contained a driver’s license. “Thomas Dixon. From New York. Seventy-six years old. Huh.” She held out the license. “License expired almost twenty years ago.” The wallet too was worn and old, but the hundred-dollar bill was crisp and new. “Well, look at that.”

  “Detective?” Chen asked. “What is it?”

  “I think our victim just got out of jail. The hundred-dollar bill was probably what he had in his prison inmate account, and the rest of the personal effects were what they confiscated when he was booked.”

  “Oh, right.”

  She looked over her shoulder and saw the tech lab guys entering the scene. “Thanks for your help, Officer. Let’s give the crime lab guys space to do their work.”

  After the coroner took the body away, Sofia headed back to the police station to do more digging on Thomas Dixon. Sure enough, he came up in the police database. He went to prison twenty years ago for kidnapping, assault, and aggravated murder, but he’d already had a rap sheet a mile long before then. Shoplifting when he was a minor, robbery, drug possession, domestic battery … it went on and on. He’d been in and out of jail, but didn’t do anything for more than a year until the kidnapping case.

  Apparently, he and a bunch of other guys kidnapped two rich kids as they were leaving their private school. They shot the kids’ bodyguard, then took the children. A private security firm had discovered them hours later. The kids were unharmed but the kidnappers had all been seriously injured in some kind of car crash, leaving most of them injured.

  Huh.

  No wonder Dixon had a colostomy bag. The records came with a couple of photos of the guys after they had been brought to the hospital. Jesus Christ. They looked like they had been shredded to ribbons. Dixon himself had a nasty scar down the front of his face and had lost an eye.

  Hmmm. It was strange how the two children escaped with no injuries. When she tried to access the files from the case, she found herself locked out. Probably sealed from public access. Not an unusual thing with minors. Being a part of law enforcement, she could easily access the files. She tapped in her password and waited for the records to download to her computer.

  A few minutes later, the case file was on her hard drive. Clicking on the folder, she opened the document, scanned the names and—

  Motherfucker.

  Chapter Three

  “I thought we talked about you not bringing your work home.” Sergeant Winters gave her a reproachful look.

  Sofia barely glanced at her. “I didn’t.”

  “No?”

  “That’s because I didn’t go home.”

  “You what?” Winters walked around, then looked down at her desk. “Detective, are you all right? What are you doing with all those files?”

  Piles and piles of folders and envelopes littered her desk. Since every inch of space was taken up, so she put some of them on the floor. “Working. What does it l
ook like?”

  “And you haven’t gone home yet?”

  She thought for moment. “I did. I think it was around two in the morning on Saturday when I went home to shower and change.” She sniffed at her shirt. It was still okay, but she should probably change it today.

  “Saturday? But it’s Monday morning!”

  She checked her desk calendar. “So it is.”

  “What’s going on, Detective?” The sergeant had her hands on her hips.

  Sofia sighed and leaned back in her chair. “It’s this case I’m working on.” She rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

  “The D.B. from last Friday?” Winters frowned. “From what I heard, the guy’s a scumbag.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve justice.” The more she read about Dixon, the more she hated him, but he was still the victim of a crime.

  “But still, why all this fuss?” Winters asked.

  Why indeed. This whole thing was like a fucking Pandora’s box. The moment she opened those records, more and more things came out. Things that didn’t make sense. “I’m still working on it,” she said.

  Winters shrugged. “All right. But you should know, the captain wants to see you.”

  “Huh?”

  She jerked her thumb toward Bushnell’s office. “Yeah. He wants you to come to his office. Now.”

  Sofia blew a tendril of hair that had come loose from her messy bun. “All right.” She stood up. “I’ll head over there now.” A pain in her neck made her wince and she stretched out, feeling her muscles protest. How long had she been sitting there? She fell asleep sometime after midnight last night and took a quick nap in the break room. It had still been dark when she sat down at her desk.

  “Sir?” she said as she poked her head into Bushnell’s office. “You wanted to see me sir?”

  He looked up at her from where he was sitting behind his desk. “Detective.” He gestured to the seat in front of him.

  “Will this take long, sir?”

  “It might.” He cleared his throat. “Two things. The first one, you already know about.”

  Ah. Maybe he had heard about the rat. She made sure to get rid of the evidence before anyone saw it, but people here were fucking nosy. “All right.” She sat down on the chair.

  “Let me cut to the chase, Selinofoto.” He clasped his meaty hands on top of the desk. “We have a court date for the Bianchi case.”

  Her entire body went rigid. “Good to know. When?”

  “Seven weeks. I want to make sure you’re still testifying.”

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His eyes briefly darted behind her, probably scanning the bullpen. “I know no one’s made it easy for you here for the past couple of months. Hell, I haven’t done anything to help you out.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to coddle me, sir,” she said.

  “Still, I know things have been tough. Plus, I still can’t find anyone who wants to take you on as a partner.”

  “That’s fine, sir.” Her cases were piling up, but she had managed them. “Wait, are you trying to convince me not to testify?”

  “What?” His eyes narrowed at her. “Of course not. I mean, not if that’s what you want. Listen.” He got to his feet and walked around his desk, sitting on the chair next to hers. “I really admire what you did. It takes guts to take down a corrupt police officer. Especially since Derek was your partner.”

  The words were like ice shards, hitting her in the chest. And the way Bushnell looked at her with that soul-piercing blue gaze, it was obvious he knew they had been more than just partners.

  “Bad cops make all of us look bad,” he said. “They deserve worse punishments than even regular criminals.”

  Yeah, well, she wished everyone in the station saw it that way. But no, the only thing they cared about was that she turned on one of their own. That she had been the one to report him to Internal Affairs and cuffed him during that sting operation. Unfortunately for her, IAB wanted Derek so bad that they didn’t warn her that breaking the blue wall of silence had dire consequences.

  When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “The heat’s gonna be on you, Selinofoto. You know how Bianchi operates. I can have a couple of the officers escort you—”

  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t need any babysitters or bodyguards.” Her fingernails dug into her palms. “I’ll be fine.”

  The captain’s bushy eyebrows drew together, his clear blue eyes narrowing. “Anthony Bianchi isn’t someone you mess around with lightly. Your testimony is going to be the final nail in his coffin. He’s gonna go down.”

  As he should. “I can’t do my job properly if I’m being guarded all the time.”

  “I’m not talking a protective detail, just someone to make sure you get home okay.”

  The thought of anyone following her around made her uncomfortable. “I respectfully decline, sir. But,” she began when Bushnell looked like he wanted to protest. “I’ll check in via phone with the desk sergeant every night when I get home.”

  That seemed to mollify him. “All right. I’ll have a couple of patrol cars drive by your building as well.”

  She supposed she could live with that. “You said there were two things you wanted to discuss.”

  He harrumphed and got to his feet, and walked back behind his desk. “Yes. I got an interesting call this morning about you. From 1PP.”

  One Police Plaza. The NYPD’s headquarters. “Is it the chief?” God, she hoped she wasn’t getting into more shit because of the Bianchi case.

  “Er, no. From the commissioner.”

  “Commissioner Foster?” She frowned. Why would the head of the entire police force of New York City call Bushnell about her? How would he even know her name? “If this is about me testifying—”

  “It’s not.” He lowered his voice. “It wasn’t an official call or anything. He said he wanted to know why one of my detectives was opening sealed files all weekend.”

  “Oh.” Fuck. “It’s for a case, sir.”

  “And you’ve been working all weekend?”

  “Yes. Is he asking me to stop looking into old case files?”

  “Not really.” He scratched his chin. “It was a strange call actually.”

  “Strange?” Her curiosity was piqued.

  “Yes. First of all, the fact that he called me directly … I’ve been working for the NYPD for thirty years, ten as captain. I’ve never gotten a call directly from the Police Commissioner of New York.”

  “Really?” Interesting.

  “Yes. And the fact that he said this was a non-official chat … I mean, we access case files all the time, it’s part of our job. But all the ones you opened seemed to have gotten his attention.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Care to enlighten me on what you’re doing?”

  Could she trust Bushnell? Did she have a choice? “Sir, I’ve been investigating a murder.”

  “The D.B. from the alley.”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “And the more I dig into it, well, the weirder it becomes.”

  “Weird? How?”

  She told him about Thomas Dixon and how she arrived at the scene. “Then I got here and started digging into his records. First of all, he just got out of Sing Sing a week ago. Based on the crime lab’s findings, he was murdered a day after he got out.”

  “Old enemies, maybe?”

  “Could be. But he’s been in prison for twenty years. He’s got no family or no known contacts in New York City. He kept to himself in prison, and if anything … he was a model inmate, according to the warden.” She had called up the jail on Friday to get the skinny on Dixon. Warden Ellis had been shocked to find out Dixon had been murdered. He didn’t rat on anyone, didn’t join any gangs, nor did he have any known associates who visited him. If anything, he had seemed content to do his time.

  “Was he mugged?”

  She shook her head. “He still had all
his personal effects. And the way he was beaten … well, it seemed highly personal. The suspect or suspects would have had to be up close.”

  “What’s weird about that?”

  Her heart hammered into her chest and she hesitated. “I don’t want to sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist, sir.”

  Bushnell flashed her a look of impatience. “Just spit it out, Selinofoto.”

  Here goes nothing. “Dixon was sentenced to twenty years in prison for the attempted kidnapping of two children. Their dad is Grant Anderson.”

  “Who?”

  “He’s the CEO of Fenrir Corporation.”

  “Oh. The billionaire.” Everyone knew about Fenrir, of course. They owned most of New York City and had their hand in almost every type of business from real estate to healthcare.

  “Yes, sir.” She cleared her throat. “The children were unharmed, but the kidnappers were severely injured.”

  “Did Anderson report the kidnapping?”

  “No, not until they were found. A security contractor that works for Fenrir—Creed Security—plus Anderson’s own team found them first, then turned them over to the NYPD.”

  “Maybe they didn’t want the attention.”

  “Well, I thought it was convenient that all the kidnappers were hurt when their van crashed, but the children were fine. Or at least, we think they are because they were never brought to any hospital. Plus, the children were kidnapped at around three in the afternoon and were found twelve hours later. What were they doing during all that time? Driving around Manhattan? Why wouldn’t they stash the kids somewhere until they contacted the parents for a ransom?”

  “Maybe moving around helped them stay undetected for a couple of hours. So what happened?”

  “Once the kidnappers recovered, they all went on trial and were convicted. It was quick too. The trial dates were all pushed up, ahead of even older cases, and all six men were convicted within a year.”

  “You think Anderson may have used his influence?”

  “Could be. It’s not illegal, I mean, if he didn’t bribe the judge. But here’s the thing: none of the kidnappers could definitively recall what happened during the time they were with the children. They all had wildly different stories, too. Some of them said they drove around for hours, others said they stashed them in an abandoned building. One of the suspects even told the DA the story of a beast attacking them. But, all of them confessed to planning the kidnapping, taking the children. The same thing with the witnesses at the school. The kids were taken in broad daylight, but none of the other nannies or parents or children could definitively recount the events.”