Heat Gauge

Chapter Three

“Looks like the circus is in town,” Rook commented as they pulled into Central Park and passed the roadblock a patrol car had already set up. He let the Crown Vic's tyres crunch over the frozen gravel as they ambled forwards to the edge of the Great Lawn. Ahead of them Raley and Ochoa were waiting, stamping their feet against the cold, framed by the loud colours of a collection of bright tents.

“No, really? What gave it away?” Nikki asked sarcastically, unbuckling and opening her door before the car had fully rolled to a stop.

“You wound me, Detective Heat.”

Nikki just rolled her eyes and hid a smile as she stepped out of the now stationary vehicle and headed for Raley and Ochoa. Someone in striped baggy pants was holding the bridle of a small grey pony nearby, lungeline coiled around his hand. The pony had a pink plastic feather standing straight up from the browband that was tickling the nose of its handler.

“So what's the deal?” she asked, tugging on gloves.

“Pony Boy here says they're closed today and he hasn't seen any strangers around the tents, but we're setting up a cordon around the area,” Raley replied.

“Good,” Nikki said. “We'll head over. Rales, you stay here and direct CSU when they show up.” Raley nodded but Nikki Heat had already strode past him and was on her way to the circus.

It didn't take long to find the body. The circus ringleader directed them to a small tent next to where the liberty horses were stalled. It had been transformed into a mirror maze. Although outside the sky was overcast and gloomy, the inside of the tent was blindingly bright as the smallest traces of light were reflected and magnified by the mirrors.

“Over here!” called Ochoa, his voice bouncing. Ten Ochoas motioned to Nikki and Rook.

“Where?” Rook replied, bumping into Nikki from behind as he turned around in confusion.

“Right here,” Ochoa said again, waving more frantically.

“Dude, there's like a million of you. Clone army attack!”

“Rook, shut up,” Nikki said, taking his hand and leading him unerringly towards Ochoa.

“Aw that was no fun,” he pouted. “It's better when you spend all day trying to get ou – oh … found the body.”

The victim was female, mid-twenties with short blonde hair cut and dyed with a fluorescent pink stripe down the right side of her head. She was wearing shiny knee-high black boots, tucked into which were bright yellow baggy pants with black suspenders over a white polo shirt, the bust of which was stained dark red.

“Terrible colour co-ordinating,” Rook tsked.

Nikki ignored him, crouching and tilting her head to get a better look at the wounds. The lump on the back of her skull throbbed painfully when she did so. “GSWs?” she asked Ochoa, unable to tell through the blood-soaked fabric.

“Nope, knife wounds. She was stabbed,” he replied, joining her down on the floor. “Four times to be exact.”

Nikki looked around them. The floor was made of sawdust. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood splatter and no drag marks. “She was killed elsewhere and carried here. But why?” Ochoa shrugged. “Well, get some uniforms in here and sweep the area. She had to have been killed nearby. Check the horse tents, those are riding boots.”

Ochoa nodded and pulled out his walkie talkie, belaying the orders to Raley who was waiting with CSU. All of a sudden Nikki's head swum, the light bouncing off the mirrors became too much. The pressure in her her head reached breaking point. Rook caught her arm when she staggered but she wrenched herself free and ran.