With information from 21 cases, it was impossible for Jack and Danny to handle it all. Even with Mike Taylor, they were overwhelmed. Sheldon Hawke, the medical examiner-turned-forensic researcher, and Stella soon joined in.
Fortunately, Danny had given in beforehand; otherwise, a late-night lobster supper would have bankrupted him. Fortunately, the CSI lab was also in Manhattan, and Jack had gone home to cook several boxes of dumplings in various flavors and sent them over.
So, during a break, everyone gathered to discuss how many different fillings Jack had made.
"I've tried at least three: shrimp and pork, beef and potatoes, and lamb mixed with parsley." Danny had barely mastered the art of chopsticks, poking each dumpling with precision, the juices splattering everywhere. He kept an eye on everyone else's bowls while eating his own.
"I have leeks and pork, fern sprouts, and ham." Stella looked curiously at Mike Taylor, who pierced the skin of a dumpling with a fork, his expression grave, as if examining some important evidence. "There should also be some kind of shellfish and crab meat."
"You should use your taste buds instead of acting like you're about to put it through a chromatograph," Jack said, speechless, deciding not to continue discussing this topic with these people living in a food desert.
He turned to Stella and asked, "How did the interrogation of Mrs. Carter go?"
Stella pouted, her mind shattered. "Nothing. She still denies there was a third person present. When I asked her why she turned herself in to the police so early the next morning, what do you think she said?"
Everyone turned to her, waiting for her answer.
"Deborah said she took a taxi to the Ritz Hotel, where Kevin proposed to her eight years ago," Stella recalled the somewhat uncomfortable conversation.
"She had a few drinks at the bar, then checked into a room. As she put it, after a night truly her own, she turned herself in to the police."
"Is it just my imagination? Why do I feel like Kevin Carter has found two wives with similar personalities? What's the point of bigamy then?" Danny was puzzled.
Jack had actually analyzed this kind of person. "Maybe what really matters to him isn't having multiple wives, but the feeling of walking a tightrope, like a liar or a kleptomaniac. He gets the thrill and pleasure of playing both roles."
"Have you been dealing with perverts like this?" Danny rubbed his arm, his hand folded over his chest, a slight shudder running down his spine.
"Here's a piece of advice: if you ever run into a serial killer or something like that, don't hold back if you get the chance," Jack said, his face deliberately serious.
"Have you heard of the 'Boston Death'? My boss, Hotchner, nearly fell for him."
"Ahem!" Mike Taylor, the lab boss, naturally couldn't let such a discordant discussion circulate among his subordinates. He quickly coughed and changed the subject. "Did you guys find anything just now?"
"Maybe. I've got some here." Danny finished his portion of dumplings in a few bites, put on his gloves again, and pulled out several evidence bags from different cases.
"This FedEx bag is from a drug-related home invasion murder case in the Bronx. The corresponding analysis report says cocaine residue was found in it."
He then pulled out two more pieces of evidence, each containing a FedEx bag.
"This is an illegal home invasion and murder case that occurred in Westchester County, and this one is a case that happened in the small town of Greenwich, Connecticut. The corresponding report also mentioned the discovery of cocaine residues.
But because they belong to three different jurisdictions and correspond to three different police crime laboratories, no one noticed the connection before."
Mike Taylor's chubby face showed a sly smile again, and he continued, "Until we put these cases together."
He turned on the computer and brought up the electronic map, and entered the crime scenes of the three cases found by Danny into it.
"The three crime scenes are all less than 15 miles apart. Anyone want to bet me that the same person delivered all three packages?"
"I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to make that bet with you, Boss." Sheldon Hawke took the three evidence bags from Danny. "I'll test the cocaine content to see if it's consistent. As for the identity of the courier, I'll leave it to our two detectives."
"Marcia Vázquez. In 2016, when she was 17, she was imprisoned for illegal drug and weapons possession and received a five-year suspended sentence. Because she was a minor and pleaded guilty, her file was sealed, and there's no DNA record in the system. She's 23 years old, has no criminal record, and lives in the North Bronx."
Danny closed the file, accepted the coffee Jack offered him, thanked him, and yawned loudly.
He'd only slept for three or four hours since returning home from the CSI lab last night. This morning, after receiving a call from Jack, he rushed out to run some errands. He'd just arrived at the agreed location, waited for a while, and then unknowingly fell asleep in the car.
"I checked with FedEx this morning. She's been working there for about six months. Those three packages were all delivered the day before the murders. Looks like we've found our female serial killer,"
Danny said, rubbing his hands together, a hint of excitement on his face.
"And you're not planning on calling for backup?" Jack opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat of his battered police car. He first donned his body armor, then shifted his FK7.5 into the quick-draw holster on the outside of his right leg. He then pulled out his Glock and inspected it.
"Aren't you being too cautious?" Danny muttered, but he did the same, pulling out his own sidearm and inspecting it.
"Are you sexist about serial killers?" Jack raised an eyebrow at him. This guy deserved a lesson. He'd have to find a case to teach him a lesson someday.
"Okay, okay, you're right." Danny usually handled routine cases, most of which didn't even require the use of a gun. Even his marksmanship had deteriorated somewhat over the years since he retired from the military and became a police officer. Some slackness was inevitable.
After saying that, he glanced at the time and started the car. The plainclothes police car drove towards the Bronx, then turned around and asked, "Any progress in the laboratory?"
Jack shook his head, "The other cases are a mess, and no commonalities can be found for the time being. I sent the case information back to my colleagues in the BAU, hoping that they would help to make a profile, but your discovery yesterday did provide further clues.
Sheldon Hawke confirmed that the cocaine residues in the three express bags were consistent, so at least the motives for these three cases are clear."
Danny understood, "She delivered drugs to those people, and after they sold the goods, she went back to kill them, and then took the money and left. This woman should have other accomplices, and she can't do this job alone."
"But what do these three cases have to do with the other 18 cases and the passion murder that happened at the Carters' house? I can't figure it out no matter how hard I try." Jack rubbed his temples and sighed.
"Who knows? Maybe their equipment is just broken." Danny said something nonsense. After all, he was recruited by Jack to work here. After all, most of the cases did not take place in New York, so he could not do anything even if he wanted to.
"That's impossible. These cases all happened around New York and are under different jurisdictions. Unless all the equipment in the local police's crime evidence laboratory is broken." Jack suddenly stopped in the middle of his words, and turned his neck slightly towards Danny with a bit of stiffness.
"Why are you looking at me like that suddenly?" Danny got goose bumps at the guy's strange eyes.
Jack exclaimed in surprise, "Has anyone ever told you that you are a genius?"