A Dangerous Game

They all moved over, one by one, and the ME pointed out the woman’s dental work.

Craig had no idea of what he was looking at—only silver fillings here and there.

He knew that Andrews would explain.

“I believe that this woman is approximately forty—though she does look fifty. She has not, however, recently borne a child, so the baby is not hers. What I was showing you, that isn’t American dental work, and it isn’t new. It was probably done more than ten years ago, and I’d say that it was done somewhere in Eastern Europe—a country that was once part of the Soviet Union or under the Communist bloc, most likely. Russia maybe, the Ukraine...but, then again, maybe Albania or somewhere in the former Yugoslavia. In other words, I do believe she’s of Eastern European descent, but she’s not malnourished. She’s healthy—just worn. I don’t believe she’s taken care of herself well—she’s probably faced tremendous stress to look ten years older than I believe her age to be. She’s worked hard—manually, I believe. Take a look at her hands. Possibly, she worked as a maid. We’re trying for an ID, naturally, through fingerprints. We’ll search through dental records, but I doubt we’ll find local records for her.”

“We are testing to see if she was related to the baby,” Craig said. It wasn’t really a question; it was an obvious action to be taken.

“Of course,” Andrews said. He looked at Lance Kendall. “As your FBI team members noted, the one stab wound in the back that killed her most probably occurred swiftly—she didn’t know what hit her. She staggered toward Miss Finnegan in the street because you instinctively turn when you’re attacked from behind. The attack was planned and fluid—that type of knife isn’t just in everyone’s daily purse or briefcase.”

“So our Jane Doe was followed to the offices of Fuller and Miro. And she went to those offices to hand the baby to Kieran Finnegan. Why?” Kendall asked.

“We don’t know,” Craig said. Andrews cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I’ve given you what I can. I’ll make sure you all receive a hard copy of the report. If we discover anything else on our end, of course, you’ll be notified.”

“What about ethnicity through DNA?” Craig asked.

“Well, we might be able to pinpoint an area of most likely ancestry,” Andrews said.

“That will be helpful,” Craig said.

“Of course,” Andrews said. “I’ll keep everyone informed on any information that I get. As soon as I have it, naturally.” He stared at them all.

It was their cue to leave. The three of them thanked him and headed toward the building entrance. As they did so, a man was hurrying in. He was very tall and lean, with tawny eyes and sandy hair. He was in a polo shirt and jeans and a jacket. Beneath the jacket, Craig was aware, the man was carrying a weapon.

“LeBlanc?” he asked. “Hank LeBlanc?”

The US Marshal nodded and intros went around. “So we have the whole gang. I imagine we’ll get a counterpart from Homeland Security before this is all over,” LeBlanc said.

“Good,” Kendall responded, his voice vehement. They all looked at him, and he shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get somewhere, working together. As long as we all keep it real—keep the contact going.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course,” LeBlanc said. “I, uh, I’m trying to see if I recognize our dead woman right now, if she might have been one of ours. Informant or witness. We lose them now and then. Except...”

“Except what?” Craig asked.

“She’s not one of ours, I’m pretty sure. I’m here because they want every t crossed on this thing. If she had been ours, we would have known something. Everyone in every local agency knows about this—we all know enough to know we don’t know a damned thing but that someone thinks they’re getting away with murder.”

“Not this time,” Kendall said flatly.

“Nope, not this time,” Mike agreed. “Hell, the best of the best, right? We’re all on it.”

Nods went around.

“We’ll keep it tight,” Mike said. “I’ll be the liaison between agencies—make sure we’re always all up to speed on what’s going on.”

LeBlanc thanked him and headed on in as they continued out to the street.

“So the woman—our dead woman—knew your girlfriend by name,” Kendall said to Craig as they reached the street.

“We established that the other night,” Craig said.

“There has to be a reason,” Kendall said.

“Yes, we actually figured that, too,” Mike said quickly, his tone easy, as if he was afraid that Kendall and Craig might get heated over the facts. “But, as you know, Kieran had never seen the woman before. Of course, we all realize that the woman knew about Kieran somehow—or, perhaps, she knew about Fuller and Miro and knew that Kieran handled a great deal of their therapy and exploratory work. She might have a reputation for having tremendous empathy—as someone who would take care of a baby.”

“And Kieran still can’t think of anything or anyone who might feel that way about her?” Kendall asked Craig.

“No. And it’s driving her crazy.”

“Might have to do with that thing in the subway from a couple of years ago now. Miss Finnegan was all over the news then,” Kendall said.

Craig wasn’t sure why Kendall reminding him of Kieran’s situation in the subway a few years back disturbed him so much. Actually, she had been meant as a target—but a young girl had wound up being pushed and nearly died a horrible death as a train was speeding into the station.

Kieran had caught her. And when assailed by the press, she just murmured, “Anyone would lend a helping hand.”

It became a temporary motto for the city.

Actually, it was a pity it hadn’t seemed to have stuck around longer.

“That is possible,” Mike said.

Craig knew why he was disturbed.

Damn it. The man was right. Maybe whoever this woman was, she remembered the subway incident, too. And she had heard of Kieran and...

If someone could save a baby, maybe it was her?

“I’m not sure it matters how this woman found Kieran. The thing is, she did,” he said gruffly. “But, that it was Kieran she found may not mean a thing. What’s important is that she was brutally cut down on the street after handing the baby over.”

Kendall nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good thing your girlfriend is smart as a whip as well, warning the building security clerk, calling 9-1-1 and you. Because if you think about it—there were cops already on the way when the woman was stabbed. The killer might have seen them milling on the street. If there hadn’t been cops around and he saw Kieran with the baby, he might have taken the time to retrieve his weapon and attempt to kill Miss Finnegan, as well. After all, at that point, she had the baby.”

Again, Kendall was probably right.

Again, it irritated Craig.

“Yeah. Thank God she’s smart,” he said evenly.

Mike offered Lance Kendall his hand. “Detective, we’ll keep tight on this. The city is in an uproar.” He hesitated and shrugged. “A woman murdered on the street in the middle of a crowd, and a baby involved. We’ll be on it day and night.”

“Ditto. So, we learn anything, we keep one another posted,” Kendall said.

“Yes,” Mike agreed.

Kendall looked at Craig and offered him his hand.

“Detective,” Craig said. He accepted the handshake.

They parted ways. As they started walking, Mike punched Craig in the shoulder.