Chapter Six

Robin

Central Park, New York City,

"Detective Calloway!"

"Detective!"

"Detective Calloway!"

Ignoring the flashing lightbulbs, the cameras, the insistent reporters, all clamoring for a five second sound bite, I made my way down to where patrol had taped off the scene. I wasn't holding out much in the way of evidence.

Central Park wasn't exactly sterile.

I prayed that this was just another John or Jane Doe, not that I wanted anyone hurt, but at that moment in time, I didn't care who it was as long as it wasn't a child.

Because if it was... I was screwed.

Since the last victim was found a week ago, the chief put together a special team that would strictly work on this particular case, and much to my annoyance, Norwich was assigned to my team.

Only I was still in charge.

Small victories, right?

My only saving grace was Bassinger, who had worked previous scenes with me and understood how I liked doing things my way.

The chief had been getting heat from the brass and city hall to find this killer fast, which meant he'd been pressuring me to bring someone in. No one wanted a child killer loose in their city. And considering that New York City was one of the biggest cities in the United States, it was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Detective Calloway." The patrol officer nodded. "The victim is over there."

"Norwich?"

"Hasn't arrived yet. But Detective Bassinger is already here."

"When Norwich shows, keep him behind the tape."

"Yes, ma'am."

Reaching for a pair of latex gloves in my coat pocket, I donned them as I stood next to Bassinger.

"Norwich isn't going to like being sidelined."

"Not my fucking problem."

"Jim is already here," Bassinger said as I nodded, having seen the coroner's van when I arrived. Jim Edwards was a good man. A father and grandfather who'd worked for the city for close to thirty years. The man dedicated his life to helping detectives like me find and apprehend killers. Mainly, the man understood the importance of evidence.

"How you want to handle this, boss lady?"

"You take the camera, while I go introduce myself," I confirmed, lifting up the yellow tape and walking into the crime scene.

Carefully taking stock of everything around me, I counted every syringe, every cigarette butt, every piece of trash that lay near my victim, knowing that all of it would need to be collected and entered into evidence. Central Park may be beautiful in the spring, but it was a bitch when it came to collecting evidence.

"How are you tonight, Jim?" I asked, kneeling down beside him.

"Been better, Robin."

"What do you have for me?"

The older man sighed. "Caucasian, male teen, about thirteen, possibly fourteen. Time of death, roughly two hours ago. Ligature marks around his neck indicate strangulation but look at this."

Leaning closer, Jim carefully turned his head.

"See the swelling around the cervical vertebrae? If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say someone snapped this poor boy's neck. Won't know for sure until I get him back to my place and get some X-rays."

"Anything else?"

"Left hip," he muttered.

Looking down at his bruised and battered body, I stared at the burn mark on his hip.

Shit.

"He's the fourth one, Robin," Jim stated, looking pointedly at me. "You know what this means, right?"

Groaning, I got to my feet and scanned the area. "Yeah. The city has a child serial killer on the loose."