Dark Nights

Chapter 4

                  

No sperm.  Harry swore over the autopsy report.  Upon returning to the department, he'd begun the background check on Veronica Murphey, starting with her medical record.  She had been able to purchase one of the most sophisticated birth controls in the world.  If she'd had sex with her killer, her birth control would have killed the specimen on contact, eliminating all trace of them within thirty minutes after ejaculation.

The extent of the cut made the tests for sexual activity inconclusive.  He'd completely mutilated the poor girl, either for symbolism or for his own protection.  He slammed the report down on his desk hard enough to make the paper cup on his desk shake and tip over, spilling of course, his coffee on the floor. 

"Motherfucker!" Harry exclaimed.  A gasp a few desks away from him cause him to look over.  A nun was being interviewed by another detective.  Feeling his ears turning red, he mouthed a quick, "I'm sorry," to her before turning back to the papers on his desk.

Pushing the autopsy report aside, he looked back over the background of Veronica.  Theoretically speaking, he had her entire life story in front of him. 

She was born June 16, 1993 to Katherine and Albert Murphey.  Her mother had died of a stroke when Veronica was four.  Her father had become the official public attorney when she was eight.  She'd been a complex student.  Her grades had been outstanding, but the behavior she exhibited had been rebellious.  She had been written up and suspended for numerous acts, ranging from smoking in the middle of the hallways to having sex with her 29 year-old boyfriend on a lunch table in the cafeteria during sixth period.  Because of her father's position, she had never gotten more than a week's worth of suspension.  She'd been popular among boys and girls.  She showed signs of leadership, charisma, and genuine kindness.  The day she turned 18, though was the day she had left her home.  She left her East Side penthouse apartment to take on the streets of New York City.  Within a week she had become a professional escort.  Six months after leaving she had gotten her own apartment in Brooklyn.  One year after leaving, she had acquired the apartment on West Broadway, making more than surgeons make in a year.  She had become a well-known escort, earning high praise and recommendations.  After studying the copy of the client list, it was easy to tell why she had gotten so far so fast.  Politicians, actors, athletes, CEO's, hundreds of big names filled her 'little black book'.  The girl was, in a sense, a high class prostitute.    

The feeling of someone being incredibly close to his personal space caused Harry to slowly drag his eyes from the papers and up in front of him.

Louis was leaning on the desk, both palms flat on the surface and his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.  "I believe I told you to go to your psyche meeting."

Harry groaned.  "Just let me go through the rest of the reports"

"Do it after.  Go.  If you don't go now you never will."

"Precisely the point, Captain."

Louis stood up straighter and rubbed his hands all over his face and through his hair, making it messier than usual.  His hands finally landed over his eyes, covering them.

"By the time I take away my hands, I expect to see you walking towards the door Styles or, God have mercy on all our souls, I will take every coffee maker in this building and hide them in my office and laugh evilly every time your eye twitches from lack of caffeine."

"I was just about to go do the interviews."

"Here's a wild thought," Louis began, pinching the roof of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.  "Go do the interviews after your psyche meeting.  I'll even post-pone the briefing if you would just go now."