Nocturnal

Calling in the Troops

It’s about time, Chief,” Rich Verde said into the phone. “Media is sticking their nose all up in this one. Where have you been?”

“I … I don’t know.”

Her voice sounded strange, maybe a bit hoarse.

“Chief, you okay? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Hold on a second.” He heard her sniff, clear her throat. Maybe she had the same bug that had knocked Clauser on his ass a few days ago.

Rich Verde remained just outside of the tarp. The Silver Eagle was in there, doing his thing with the bodies. Rich stared up at the pitch-black night sky. The tall pines surrounding the Handyman crime scene were actually a touch lighter than the dark sky above them, making him feel as if he were deep in the forest. Sometimes it was hard to remember Golden Gate Park was a swath of greenery in the middle of a major city — from here you couldn’t see a building, barely any lights, and the sounds of civilization were little more than a dull, distant buzz.

“Sorry,” Zou said. “There’s another Handyman murder. It’s pretty rough.”

Amy Zou, the unflappable rock, was shaken up by the third Handyman scene? Rich could only imagine what a Cleveland steamer of gore that had to be. “That bad?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Uh … is Doctor Metz still there?”

“Yeah. He’s finishing up. Robertson hasn’t bothered to show up, though.”

“I told Sean to come here,” she said. “And I need you and Metz here as well. Fort Mason Tunnel. Get here as fast as you can.”

Amy cleared her throat again. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. As far as Rich knew, Amy hadn’t cried since they’d found those two half-eaten kids in Golden Gate Park nearly three decades ago. But all this shit … it was too much. Rich closed his eyes and saw what he saw every time he did: the mental loop of that hatchet crunching through Bobby Pigeon’s shoulder and ribs, the look of fear on his young partner’s face.

“Chief, I think I got to take a pass this time. I just can’t deal with this anymore.”

She said nothing. He felt like a piece of shit. She had always counted on him. He had always delivered. But he was tapped out. He just couldn’t look at another butchered body.

“Rich, I need you here.”

He looked down, shook his head. She’d have to find someone else. “I can’t, Amy. I can’t.”

She coughed. She was crying.

“Just one more, Rich. I promise. Please. Just … just do this last thing for me.”

Amy Zou gave orders and people followed them. She rarely asked. She had to be as much on the edge as he was.

“Okay,” he said. “We’re on our way.”

He hung up.

Dr. Metz came out of the tent. He nodded at Rich.

“We’re all done here,” Metz said. “Same as usual. I’ll get these two back to the morgue and get to work.”

“Change of plans,” Rich said. “We’re going to the Mason Tunnel.”