“Caught and closed, open and shut. Christ.” He took the coffee, stared at it. “You know, you think it can’t get to you anymore. You’ve seen it all, seen as bad as it gets. But you never have. Guy’s supposed to pick his kids up for his week. Divorced deal. Fourteen-year-old girl, eight-year-old boy. Guy’s been out of work for a while, got pushy with the ex a few times. Nothing major, mostly verbal shit. Yelling, arguing. She answers the door today while the kids are getting their stuff. And he smashes her, face-first, with a sledgehammer. Then he goes for the kids. Just goes at them. You could see how they tried to get away, how the girl used her body to cover her brother.”
Baxter stared into his coffee, shook himself, drank it. “He pulverized that l
ittle girl, Dallas. Like she was a thing, and not his own kid. The boy, they said he might make it. Legs are smashed, one of his arms, but his sister took the worst. When the man thought he was done with them, he went back and finished the wife.”
He took a slow drink of coffee. “Neighbors heard some of it, called it in, came running. He just walked out, walked out into the street into traffic. Driver who hit him tried to stop – she had a baby in the car. They’re okay. Just shaken up. The impact knocked him into another oncoming, and that one didn’t have time to try to stop.”
“He’s dead.”
“I wish he wasn’t.” Baxter said it viciously. “I wish to Christ we could’ve peeled him off the pavement and put him in a cage, run a loop of those kids in that cage for the rest of his motherfucking life. His own kids, Dallas. His daughter’s brains splattered all over the wall, the floor. For what?”
“We’re never going to know the answers, Baxter, and we’re never going to have seen the worst. There’s always worse than that waiting to happen. And if it doesn’t get to us, if we don’t feel it, then it’s time to turn in our papers. Where’s Trueheart?”
“I told him to go home, told him to take some personal. But I know he’s going to hang around the hospital awhile longer. The boy – his grandparents are there, and he’s got more family, so that’s something. He’s got the exam tomorrow, so I told him to try to put it away, for now, focus in. Maybe we stop the next one before he kills his kids. Get his shield, and maybe the next time, we get there before the brains are all over the wall.”
“You should go home.”
“Can’t do it.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Give me a job, will you, Loo? Any damn thing.”
“I’m running another missing-person search,” she began, explained the parameters. “Take it down to residences and businesses downtown. Run a parallel to missings over the last two weeks.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
He got to his feet, looked at her board. “You know some of them are never going to get out of your head. We keep doing it, knowing the job’s going to put more of them in there. You have to believe it matters.”
“You can believe it because it does. These two? Time’s running out on them. Let’s find the fuckers.”
“I’m on it.”
When he left, Eve pulled up the call, the family, the IDs of the wife, the kids in Baxter’s head. She’d have them in her head now, but it had to matter.
Considering the stream of interruptions, she managed to get the report, in painful detail, hammered out and sent to Whitney. Then, after a quick debate, decided she’d take the rest home, where interruptions would be minimized. Then realized she’d already gone past her end of tour.
She pulled what she had from her missings search, grabbed the rest of what she needed, snagged her coat.
And remembered she had to take Banner with her.
She found her bull pen still full of cops.
“Pack it in,” she ordered, then moved over to Trueheart.
“How’s the kid?”
“He’s out of surgery. He’s going to need at least two more trips in, the doctor said, and they’re keeping him in an induced coma. But they said he’s going to pull through, that odds are in his favor now. And his family —”
He broke off, took a long breath. “I mean, his grandparents and some others are with him. The doctor said, you know, young and healthy, it adds weight on his side.”
“Okay. Now put it away for tonight. Go home, study up. Don’t even think about it,” she said, anticipating him. “You don’t put off your exam, or your life, for something you can’t change. He’s in good hands, and you did the job.”
“That’s what Baxter said.”
“Then listen.” She looked around at Baxter. “Send me what you have, and go have a beer with Trueheart, then get him home. Make sure he doesn’t embarrass us tomorrow.”
“Will do. Dallas, I’d like to keep on this. While the kid’s taking the exam, I can keep on this tomorrow.”
“I’ll loop you in. Peabody, get what you need and make it snappy. We’ve got work. Where’s Banner?”
He leaned back out of a cube. “I was working on some notes and contacts. Detective Peabody said I could use this space.”