“Nothing solid yet, but ever since Dr. Gray suggested we look into Louisiana’s transplant list we’ve been connecting the dots. Seems a number of patients waiting for donors have been solicited by the same anonymous graymail that we’ve traced back to suspicious organ trade chatter between two screen names.”
“What are the screen names?”
Creed looked like he wasn’t going to divulge that information, but then he spoke. “Xavier and Vonegut5. Mean anything to you?”
George shook his head.
“Then like I said, you’ve got nothing.”
“We found a mountain of evidence at the Monroe property,” George argued.
“Right, but are you any closer to finding Monroe?”
“Dr. Cruz and your agents are examining the body we found in the attic. I think she’s Monroe’s first kill. If we can get an ID, I think we can establish a clearer profile that will help us pinpoint Monroe’s whereabouts.”
“That’s a lot ofifs, Detective. I think we’re going to do it my way now,” Creed sneered. “Let me know when yourifsprovide any real leads. Until then, consider yourself and your department dismissed. The FBI is taking the lead from here.”
George shook with indignation as he watched Agent Creed saunter away, taking the investigation with him.
Over my dead body!
George let the full weight of the situation wash over him. Creed might be right. George was no closer to finding Monroe and he had no solid leads, but this was his city. He knew it better than anyone. And it was his responsibility to keep his people safe.
Too many had perished on his watch already.
No more.
112
George tookstock of the unofficial team he’d assembled.
Dana, LaSalle, Neville, and Richter crowded his small office. Lena was there too, via video call. They’d each replied to his summons without question, but now that they were here, shades drawn, door locked, they had questions. Especially after George dropped the bombshell about the FBI basically forcing them off their own case.
“I haven’t heard anything about that,” LaSalle argued.
“And you won’t, but Creed was clear. He and the FBI are pulling rank,” countered George. “He won’t make anything official until he’s got a lead so he can look like the hero while we’re left looking like incompetent assholes who can’t find a killer who’s been operating under our noses for twenty plus years.”
But George knew he couldn't let defeat cloud his judgment. He had to stay focused, and he needed his team to do the same. He called this briefing, hoping to rekindle their determination. The scent of stale coffee mingled with the palpable tension in the room. There was no time to waste.
“So, what are we supposed to do?” LaSalle asked.
"We're not giving up," George began, his voice steady but somber. "Monroe is still out there. That means the job isn’t done, and we don’tquit until it is. Just because we’re not in the inner circle doesn’t mean we give up. We keep pulling at the threads we’ve got. Sooner or later this thing will unravel.”
Neville nodded, lines of fatigue etched on his face. "We’ll keep digging.”
“Fontera might know more than he's letting on,” Richter offered. “I can take a crack at him if Creed gives me the go-ahead."
George shook his head. “Lena, if we’re gonna crack this thing, it starts with you. I need a positive ID on the attic vic.”
“I’m trying,” she promised. “But the DNA is severely deteriorated.”
George tried to rein in his frustration. “Okay, but you gotta give me something. What have you learned so far?”
“From what I can tell, the corpse has been in the attic for at least twenty years. Maybe more,” Lena explained. “I don’t have COD yet, but I can tell you she’s a Caucasian female. Late teens, early twenties at time of death.”
Dana piped up. “That would make her around Monroe’s age.” Her gaze met George’s. “Could she be a relative?”
George shook his head. He knew Monroe’s file inside and out. “Monroe’s an only child.”