Catch Me: A Detective D.D. Warren Novel by Lisa Gardner

Author:Lisa Gardner [Gardner, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781101559963
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2012-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

DETECTIVE O WAITED until Charlene had exited the homicide unit. Then she returned to D.D.’s office, closed the door, and collapsed in the desk chair across from her.

“Could we really be that lucky?” she asked, her voice incredulous. “I mean, is it just me, or is Charlene Grant a perfect fit for our shooter?”

“Don’t know if it’s luck,” D.D. mused, frowning. “Remember, I first encountered her outside the second homicide. When I ran her down, she claimed she was checking me out to handle her own case. But maybe that was just fast thinking on her part. She offered up her own troubled history to distract me from the fact she was loitering outside an active crime scene.”

“What’s with her hands and throat? Looks like she’s been mugged—”

“Training.”

“So she really thinks someone will try to kill her on the twenty-first?”

“Randi Menke and Jackie Knowles really are dead.”

Detective O paused. Then her eyes widened. “Motivation. Think about it. Charlene’s police dispatch. She takes the calls, she hears these kids. Maybe she wants to help them, but she’s not sure how. In the meantime, she’s boxing, shooting—”

“Gaining skills.”

“And, even more importantly, counting down to her own death. Meaning, at a certain point, what does she have to lose?”

D.D. stilled, regarded the other detective. “Charlene decides to do something with the limited time she feels she has left. Maybe right some past wrongs, given a history of child abuse.”

“She’s saving other kids,” O continued. “Doing what she no doubt wishes someone had done for her, when she was that age, and Mommy Dearest was pulling out the insulin.”

“Insulin?”

“Oh, other case I worked. Evil stepfather, actually. A diabetic. Came up with the idea to inject his beautiful twin stepdaughters with insulin. Their blood sugar would crash, rendering them semicomatose, he’d do what he was going to do, then squirt spray cans of frosting into their mouths to bring their blood sugar back up. Later, after he’d perfected his technique, he’d leave cans of frosting out on the counter just to mess with their heads.”

D.D. stared at her. “Your job sucks.”

“No,” the young detective said seriously. “The cases suck. My job, putting evil stepfather away for twenty years and ensuring those little girls will never be hurt again, pretty much fucking rocks. Which you, of all people, I’d think would understand.”

“Touché. So, back to the matters at hand. Motivation. Means. Opportunity. Yeah, Charlie looks pretty good as a vigilante killer right now.” D.D. glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand, unfolding it and holding it out to Detective O. “Handwriting, however, is not a perfect match.”

“No flat edge,” O agreed, taking the paper. “Then again, she had to execute her penmanship with both of us watching. Girl’s not stupid. If she did write the other notes, you’d think she’d take some steps to make her handwriting look different.”

“She wrote in print here, not cursive like the notes, but check it out—the letters are neat in appearance, carefully formed.” D.D. turned toward one stack of paperwork on her desk.

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