Prophet of Death

Chapter 3

     After watching forensics comb through both apartments and come back with squat, Pete decided to head back to the station. As he left the parking lot, several reporters outside tried to scream questions at him. He didn't even listen to what they were saying and just drove past without responding. He had been working with next to no sleep and was determined to get a little rest. He'd check in with the station and probably grab a few hours on one of the cots in the locker room before getting back to work. A case this big wasn't solved by someone who could barely keep their eyes open. Pete consulted his watch right after parking at the station and it was half past eleven in the morning. Once in the station, he grabbed a less than great cup of coffee and seemed to get a second wind by the time he reached his desk. He took a seat and started to make some phone calls, making contact to other departments in the Tri-state area, as well as to federal agencies to see if this killer and his M.O. had been seen before. He wasn't having much luck. At last, he put the phone down and sighed.

     "You'd think with this kind of theatrics, this wouldn't be your perp's first time." Gibbons' partner, Detective David Grozza, was munching on a power lunch that consisted of a few donuts and an over-sweetened cup of coffee. "Just saying."

     Pete groaned as he scratched his four-day-old beard. "If this perp isn't a first timer, it wasn't done here in America."

     "That wouldn't be too surprising." Grozza took a sip of his java. "That whole ninety-nine protest is worldwide. I'll make a call to Interpol before tossing in the towel."

     "Do you think it could just be a decoy?" Pete asked. "That this whole ninety-nine bullshit is a rouse meant to lead us on a merry chase?"

     "Wouldn't be the first time," Grozza admitted. "But we have to take it seriously. If this person is angry at the one percent, then this perp isn't going to stop at one greedy banker."

     "I know." Pete let out a long, deep yawn.

     "Dude." David said, putting down his powdered snack. "Didn't you leave here around here at four in the morning after working on the damn Miller case for over fourteen hours?"

     "Yup," Pete confirmed. "Then I woke up at eight to take this case."

     "Shit, you much be exhausted." David pointed to the locker rooms. "Crash on the cot for a few hours, and I'll take make some of those calls. If anything drops while you're napping, I'll wake you up."

     Pete checked his watch, which told him it was almost one in the afternoon. "All right, but don't forget to call Interpol."

     "I won't," David said as he waved to him. "Get in there and get some sleep already before another body drops!"

     Pete moaned and grumbled to himself as he strolled into the locker rooms where everyone changed to get ready for their shifts. There were some cots in the back of the room for people who were too busy to head home and sleep on their own beds. Pete put his cellphone, badge and even his gun into his own locker before walking over to one of the cots and stretching out. Usually he found the cots to be rather uncomfortable but his body didn't care at that particular moment and he quickly nodded off to sleep. To Pete, it felt like he was only asleep for a few minutes, but when David kicked his cot to wake him it was actually four hours later according to his watch.

     "I'm awake, what the fuck is it?" Pete asked.

     "McManus is looking for you," David answered. "And he's pissed."

     "Has someone else been killed?" Pete asked as he sat up.

     "Not yet," his partner replied. "But give him time; he's that irate."