Game

As Hughes retreated, Jazz stared slack-jawed at Co

“We’re practically adults,” Co

The room had two beds. Jazz wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He had stayed in hotels only as a child, on occasional “road trips” with Billy. Billy never flew anywhere, if he could help it. Too many security checks. Too many people checkin’ your ID. Too much damn nosiness, Jasper. So they had driven to any number of places, usually so that Billy could impart some sort of lesson to his son. Hands-on experience, Billy called it, turning Jazz into his assistant and his accomplice on more than one occasion.

Those hotels had usually been out-of-the-way rattraps, the sheets musty, the bathtubs stained even before Billy showered off the grime and the blood of his most recent prospect. This place was pleasant, if boring. There was a large framed photo of the Statue of Liberty over the bed.

“Why would you want to look at a picture of the Statue of Liberty when you’re in New York?” Co

Jazz shrugged and poked his head into the bathroom, half expecting to see his father emerging from the shower, dripping wet and gri

“On a scale of one to ten,” Co

“I don’t have time to be pissed at you,” Jazz said, more curtly than he’d intended. “I need to help the NYPD and then get the hell out of this city.”

“Settle down, big guy. You’ve seen a chunk of Brooklyn from the cab and a grand total of two whole blocks on your feet. Give it a chance before you hate it.”

“It’s not that.” He pushed away her comforting hands, forcing himself to do it gently. “This place isn’t good for me. It’s a hunting ground. It’s a… It’s a prospecting gold mine.”

“You’re not a killer,” she told him, grabbing a hand and imprisoning it with both of hers, then holding it to her chest. “Listen to me: You’re not a killer. It doesn’t matter what this place is.”

He stared at the Statue of Liberty. Flicked his eyes to the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds. Anything to avoid looking at Co

You could slaughter a thousand of them and never be caught, Jasper, m’boy. You could do all those things I taught you. You could—

Co

She was trying to distract him. Trying to break the cords of his inherited fears that bound him. He loved her for it.

He pitied her for it. Those cords, he knew, could be loosened and rearranged, but they could never be severed.

“Hughes said to use protection,” he said, smiling weakly. “We don’t have any.”

“We’re not going that far,” she said, kissing him hard and sure on the lips. “We’re just go

He surrendered to her.

True to his word, Hughes was back in a couple of hours. By then, Jazz and Co

Hughes wasn’t fooled; he cracked a smile as soon as he walked in the door, then hid it behind his usual stern façade. He bore a huge flat pizza box, topped with another box, as well as a satchel slung over one shoulder. “I come bearing pizza and pictures of death,” he a

Soon they had the files spread out over one of the beds, with the pizza and drinks on the smallish hotel table. Jazz was surprised at the dearth of files—fourteen murders should have generated a lot more paperwork.

“Most of it’s sca

“Why are we working here?” Jazz asked. “Why can’t we just go to the”—it wouldn’t be a sheriff’s office, not in New York—“precinct?”

Hughes shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there. It’s a disaster area. The task force is spread out all over the place. It’s a madhouse.”

Jazz thought of the state of G. William’s building when the Impressionist Task Force had moved in. Yeah, maybe it was better to work here.

“If it turns out there’s something I forgot or something else you need, just let me know,” Hughes said, “and I’ll get it for you.”

“Where do we start?” Co

Hughes raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Oh, is this work too manly for a princess like myself?” Co

“Whoa! Whoa!” Hughes held both hands up in surrender and looked over at Jazz for help. Jazz just gave him a “You’re on your own, pal” smirk. “Damn, I didn’t think there was a girl on this planet who could handle Billy Dent’s kid, but I’ve been proven wrong. Look, Co

Co

“Look, maybe she can’t go through the files with us,” Jazz said, “but there’s nothing that says she can’t stay in the room, right? And if she hears us talking and has ideas, it’s still a free country and she can say what she wants.”

He wasn’t sure Hughes would go for the hair-splitting, but the detective’s face split into a huge, delighted grin. “Bend that rule, Jasper!” he said. “Bend it!”

Co

“The first thing we need to do,” Jazz said, “is index all of the data. So, for example, organize everything by type of file—picture, video, whatever—and then cross-index it by victim—”

“Already done,” Hughes said, producing a stapled set of papers. “There’s an electronic version in the Master Index file.”

“Okay, then we need to make up a chart of the victims, in the order they were discovered—”

“Victim_Timeline.xls,” Hughes said, producing another printout. “E-version and dead-tree version.” He gri

Jazz nodded. He wasn’t in Lobo’s Nod anymore. “Okay, I’m going to start with the paper—those are the most recent, right?” Hughes nodded. “Good. Then that means they show him at his most organized and sophisticated. I’ll start with them and work my way back.”

“What about me?” Hughes asked.

“You’ve already seen all of this. You can help clear up any questions we have. But stick to the facts. I don’t want your suppositions and guesses to pollute my thinking on this.”

“Got it.”

They dug into the reports and photos, as well as the pizza. Soon enough, a picture began to emerge.