Kensington-Gerard Detective Series

Chapter 4: NO IDENTITY

Lieutenant Jack Harwell pulled into Central Park, eased his vehicle to the side of the road, and stepped out into the hot, humid air that lingered above his head like a water balloon ready to burst.

The screeching sound of a siren wailed past him en route to the hospital.

He smiled when he saw the helicopter hovering above, lighting the way for the investigators. A sense of satisfaction washed over him from the progress he'd made since coming to the two-one precinct as a lieutenant. He'd managed to wade his way through the bureaucracy and obtain updated equipment.

Seeing a CSI measuring skid marks along the path, Harwell stopped to speak to him. The officer looked up when Harwell approached.

"And what do we have here?" Harwell asked.

"A suspicious set of skid marks that don't match the vehicle involved in the accident."

"How many vehicles were involved?"

"Unless there's another in the water, this is it, Lieutenant. It looks like the killer rammed the victim's car from behind into this ravine."

"Who found the bodies?"

"That couple talking to Detectives Kensington and Gerard were the ones to find the dead male; although, the first officers on the scene discovered the woman."

Noticing the young guy dressed in racing gear and looking annoyed, Harwell asked about him. "And the biker? What's up with him?"

"Beats me, Lieutenant."

"Okay, make sure you get a good mold of those skid marks for the lab, son," he said to him.

"Yes, sir."

Harwell stood upright and continued toward the wrecked car. When he reached the vehicle, he looked over at his detectives, who were still questioning the witnesses.

The vehicle, a 1997 Volvo station wagon, whose hood was jammed up against the bottom of the bridge, was nestled in mud covering the wheels. Harwell made his way closer to the wreck so he could get a visual of the damage. The windshield, the side window on the driver's side, and the rear window were completely shattered out.

Detective Gerard noticed his boss and left the witnesses with Jessie and another officer who was handing the male witness another blanket.

"What the hell is that all about?" Harwell asked.

"They were getting it on when they stumbled . . . or I should say fell on the victim," he grinned.

"And what happened to their clothing?" Harwell's eyebrows rose in a questionable frown, "where the hell is that?"

"At the hotel," Zach smiled.

"You know, these idiots never cease to amaze me," he said, shaking his head, "just when you think you've seen it all, something like this happens." Harwell cleared his throat. "What else do you have for me?"

"We don't have a clear picture yet, but we have two victims, one female, who's still alive and on her way to the hospital. She had no ID on her, so we have no clue as to her identity. The corpse is a dead Lenny Scerbo, his skull ripped apart, fifty feet from the car we believe was driven by the female. Clara estimates Lenny's been dead a few hours, but she won't confirm that until she's finished with the examination. That means the accident, if the two are related, took place in the wee hours this morning."

"As for Lenny," Harwell said, "it was only a matter of time. Maybe someone from the chop shop found out he was working for us."

"That was Jessie's first thought, too." Zach nodded his head to the side, motioning for the Lieutenant to move closer to the vehicle.

"Where are the license plates?" the lieutenant asked, noticing there were no tags on the vehicle.

"No plates or registration anywhere."

"Nothing. Jackson is following up on the VIN and registration," Zach said.

"Lenny wasn't driving the vehicle?" Harwell asked.

"Not according to Paige. He said he lifted three sets of prints, but two were smudged. As I said, all indications point to the woman as being the driver because the smaller prints were the most prominent. Who knows if we'll get anything from the smudged prints? Unless we can get a portion of those smudged prints to match Lenny's, then he wasn't in that car."

"Then how the hell did he get here?"

"Another car, I suspect. One of the technicians was taking a mold of some tire tracks."

"Yeah, I spoke to him on my way over to the scene," Harwell said. "he mentioned they were suspicious."

Detective Gerard walked over to the broken window on the passenger's side of the vehicle. "Fortunately for the driver, the airbag deployed. That's what saved her life. Earlier, I found a piece of bloody flesh, and some bloody fabric on the jagged edge of this window, so I'm assuming this is how she escaped. The fabric had little flowers on it."

"You mean a paisley print." Detective Kensington said when she joined them.

"Yeah, whatever," Zach said.

She released a humorous chuckle. "Hi, Lieutenant."

"You look like s**t, Kensington," Harwell said, the deep frown lines creasing his forehead. "Aren't you getting any sleep?"

"It's good to see you, too, Lieutenant."

__________

The trio turned when a flatbed truck pulled up near the vehicle. The driver, a stocky man wearing an NYPD baseball cap, a lit cigar hanging out from the corner of his mouth, jumped down from the cab and walked to where they stood conversing.

"Phew, Lieutenant," Zach said, pretending to wipe the sweat from his brows, "I think we've just been saved from Jessie's wrath by this man." He winked.

"Hilarious, Zach," she said, twisting her mouth to the side. She gave a toss of her hand and walked back to interview the cyclist.

The driver interrupted their conversation. "Is this vehicle ready for transport?"

"Yes, sir."

He handed them a receipt for the vehicle, returned to his truck and backed it up as close as possible, hooked the cable to the undercarriage, and pulled the damaged car onto the tray. Harwell and Zach moved over to the side and gave a slight wave as he drove away from the scene.

"You know, Lieutenant," Zach said, "I can't imagine Lenny's connection to the woman. We're wondering if these are two unrelated incidents. Hopefully, our Jane Doe can shed some light on this when she regains consciousness." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's clear the vehicle was hit multiple times from the rear . . . and it looks like whoever was pushing her vehicle gave an extra shove for good measure to make sure the vehicle rammed into the bridge. I'd bet money on it; whoever did this thinks the woman is dead."

"Well, let's hope the asshole comes back to check."

Zach nodded. "Judging from where the dents are located, I'd have to say the "mystery vehicle" is an SUV or a Hummer." Zach waited for Harwell to comment, and when he didn't, he looked his way and noticed a muscle flicker in his jaw as he walked around, checking the ground. Frowning, Zach addressed him. "Lieutenant?" Zach stared at him, waiting for a response.

"No purse on this woman, huh?" Harwell asked.

"What are you looking for, Lieutenant?"

"I thought I might find something."

Zach released a sigh and shook his head. "I can assure you, Lieutenant. We've combed every inch of this crime scene."

"I have no doubt, Zach. Just checking, that's all."

Zach cleared his throat, slightly amused, slightly annoyed by Harwell's lack of confidence in his ability.

Harwell grinned. "Listen, Zach, if you miss something, it's my ass that's in the sling, and if mine is in the sling, so is yours."

"I think my reputation speaks for itself, don't you?" Zach asked.

Harwell's eyebrows rose. "But there's always a first time. So is that it?"

Zach knew he was wasting his time saying anything to Harwell about continuing his ground search, but he wished it wasn't taking him so long to figure out Zach was no rookie. The fact was, Harwell hadn't been a lieutenant that long. Zach brushed it off and continued. "Other than a VIN, that's it. Divers should be here soon to drag the lake. Maybe that's where we'll find her purse." Zach said, but Harwell was still checking the ground. Zach tried to ignore him and continued. "I can't imagine any woman leaving the house without a purse, especially one who's about to drive. Christ, their purses are like chains around their necks," Zach said without looking at Harwell.

"Very true, but a woman who's running to get away from someone chasing her wouldn't stop for her purse," Harwell said with arched brows. Removing his cap, he ran his hand over the top of his closely cropped hair. "All she wants to do is get the hell away."

"You're right," Zach said. "Jess spoke briefly with the victim before the paramedics left for the hospital. She said the woman seemed confused and affluent."

"Oh? And how did she know this?"

Zach relayed what Jess had told him.

"Well, hell, that makes it easier." Harwell joked. "That only leaves us with about half the population of the city who are loaded."

"Right," he snickered. "By the way," Zach said, "I hear Bradshaw's already over at Lenox Hill Hospital. Can he look in on Jane Doe until we get over there?"

"Sure." Harwell started to walk away but stopped. "Who did you say was checking on the VIN?"

"I didn't. It's Jackson."

"And he was first on the scene?" Harwell twisted his mouth into a smirk.

"Yes, sir."

"That's f*****g terrific." Harwell blew out a steady stream of air. "I wonder which one of his men is going to screw up this time."

"Lieutenant," Zach said with a sigh, "you can't judge all his guys based on that one schmuck who got caught screwing a prostitute while on duty. Besides, Internal Affairs expelled him. I think that was a loud message to the rest of the troops. Don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess. But some people never learn. I know Jackson tampered with that evidence. I need to find a way to prove it." Noticing Zach had turned a deaf ear, the lieutenant gave a nonchalant wave and walked toward the path, "You know where I'll be."