Ailanthus. Antonio De Vito
Sam didnât make it. Iâm here about this, too. I know that itâs more than two months that Iâm away. I donât expect any special treatment and I donât think that you could afford such a low-efficient coworker...â Stacie started off like a shot. She didnât even look the Prosecutor straight in his eyes. It was the only way. On the other hand, she didnât release the frustration since the moment when the doctor had stated Samâs death to her.
âKeep calm; letâs have a seat, so you can tell me what happened.â Douglas was extremely understanding, like a father. They sat close for almost one hour. He poured her a cup of coffee and Stacie could tell him everything she had lived in Geneva, from hopes to harsh reality. Douglas knew how to listen and understand Stacieâs state of mind and she felt like having in front of her a man able to understand pain.
âI can only imagine how you feel. You donât have to feel ashamed of your pain, but try to draw strength from this situation. I met you a few months ago because you were mentioned by Detective Cross. I didnât know how you were, and even less if your decanted abilities were real. But I came to know a determined woman, almost stubborn, without for this reason renouncing to her fragilities.â Stacie was listening to him inebriated. âFrom this meeting I understand more than ever how complicated it is to let live together work and emotions. What I can assure you is that, the day that youâll fully make it, you will be able to say you have control of yourself and live totally your life without having to necessarily sacrifice a part of it.â
Stacie listened impressed to Prosecutor Douglas. His words hit the mark. They werenât advices, but traced a road that seemed already covered. It was her turn and she had to get back in the game taking all the risks of the case.
âI thank you a lot for your words, and even more for the way you welcomed me. To me thatâs an extra reason to show you all my gratitude. If and when you consider it appropriate, I still will be available to give you my professional help.â
âGood, thatâs how we talk. You are so needed here. Frank Berrimow already called twice in the last hours to get informed about you. You know, he works at the Detective Bureau now and heâs the one who will help you on your next case. In your absence Iâve been designated as Prosecutor of New York Southern District. Now, weâll deal with the cases happened in Brooklyn or in the Bronx, too.â Douglas poured more coffee in Stacieâs cup.
âAre wheels already in motion?â
âUnfortunately yes. A murder in the Flatbush neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn. A manâs throat was cut and the right eyeball was taken away.â
âOh my God!â Stacie seemed horrified at Douglasâs words.
âUnfortunately given the details, everything makes us think of...â
â⦠Of a psycho cut-throat around New Yorkâs streets.â Stacie finished Douglasâs sentence.
âExactly! And now itâs on you. Do you feel like diving out there again?â
âYes, absolutely! Iâll go to Frank, so we can start as soon as possible. Prosecutor Douglas, remember that I owe you one.â Stacie, even if she was still recovering, seemed to take stock of Timothy Douglasâs words.
-5-
Frank Berrimow was sat at his desk and had in front of him a pile of papers through which he nervously went looking for something. There inevitably was his cup with the New York Police Departmentâs emblem on it. Frank was a Policeman proud of his work and proud of serving his country. The redundancy of symbols that reminded him his affiliation with the Community was so easy to find such in that Police Office as in a simple bar. Frank didnât escape the stereotypical American guy at all.
When he saw Stacie coming closer, he jumped. It was equally exciting to her. That experience together following the De Sena case, during which they both staked their lives, had the effect of creating between the two a strong complicity. They had worked together just for a few days but their relationship seemed to last long before. Frank didnât know yet anything about what had happened in Geneva, so Stacie told him right away how it went and tried to let him understand how hard was for her to get back to work now that Sam wasnât there anymore. Obviously she left out the whole nightmares that were haunting her thing; she wasnât into the idea that she could be considered crazy, depressed or something like that. They had the chance to talk for a few minutes. You couldnât consider Frank such a deep man as Timothy Douglas and Stacie knew this. She also knew that what could seem simple set phrases, the only ones that Frank could pull out during their conversation, came straight from his heart.
âFrank, thank you for your words. If Iâm here itâs to start working together again. Forget what happened in Switzerland, Iâm trying to get over it quickly. I know I will need some time, but also with your help, Iâm sure Iâll make it. Douglas told me about the terrible murder in Brooklyn, about your engagement at the Detective Bureau and gave me free reign. Now, tell me everything you know and letâs start without further delay.â
âGreat. Iâve been here reading papers for two days, but youâre way better than me in this stuff. Now Iâll tell you. Do you already know the details of the murder, from the throat-cut to the injuries inflicted?â
âYes, Douglas mentioned something, itâs terrifying.â
âThe man murdered doesnât have criminal records, there was no robbery of money and from the documents we know whose corpse it is. He was a forty-years-old married man. Besides the wife, he left also two daughters, ten and twelve years old. He lived in a nice apartment in Brooklyn. Basically an almost perfect life which didnât suggest this kind of end.â
âAnd why was he in that area in the middle of the night? Thatâs not a nice place.â
âI interviewed his wife very tactfully, given the situation. It seems that that evening they had had a small argument, nothing flagrant, and he had left by car to âclear his mindâ. She said that he often had this kind of reaction when they argued at home.â
âWhat were they arguing about?â
âI didnât feel to insist. Someone just killed her husband and I didnât feel like insisting.â
âSure. Obviously we have no validation of this version, but I donât think itâs important in our killer research. I also think that the wife told the true.â Stacie tended to exclude the wife from this story, maybe making a mistake, because she couldnât attribute such an atrocious crime to a woman.
âWhat were you reading before?â Stacie looked at the papers on Frankâs desk.
âOh, yes. I was doing some research about serial murders happened in the State in the last decades, trying to understand if there are some common elements between this case and the most famous ones.â Frank was clearly clumsy in front of Stacie. He almost feared that he couldnât live up with her role. When it occurred, he looked away to the floor and started stammer. It wasnât hard to understand. But Stacie did nothing to emphasize it. That allowed him to rapidly recover and delude himself that, maybe, she didnât even notice it.
âWhat have you found of interesting?â
âNothing at all. And, if I have to be honest, while I was flipping through these papers, I really hoped you were coming back, because youâd surely do a better work than mine.â
âDonât beat yourself up. While doing a search you never know which way to go. If youâre lucky youâll turn to the shortest that brings you to your destination, but if you donât have the stars on your side, you can spend sleepless nights without get blood out a stone. Letâs do this, I take these papers and leave you free to go. Try to know something else about the victim