Caged by Hilary Norman

be out of there,’ Martinez said.
    Not that it was possible to feel too much relief when faced with the macabre scene still out in the backyard.
    Not just brutal homicide here.
    A particular kind of degradation, perpetrated for a second time, making them both sick to their souls.
    And then, as always happened in the worst cases, they felt it start to galvanize them, to fill them with a determination to do their jobs to the utmost of their abilities.
    And then some.

THIRTY-THREE
    T hey had a small amount of good luck with Karen Christou’s neighbours, merely in that they were almost all home when Sam and Martinez came knocking. But that was where the luck ended, because no one was admitting to having seen or heard anything suspicious last evening or night.
    Still, at least they were home , and could therefore be checked off the ever-growing list of things the squad had to do. All of it painstaking and much of it a grind, the tasks that had to be taken care of more meticulously than ever without a big lead. Not that they bitched about it too much because they all knew it was how the job went, and it was all worth doing, too, so long as they got there in the end. Which didn’t make it easy, but it was what they were paid for, and it was what they owed the victims.
    Big time.
    One good thing about today.
    Jessica Kowalski was off duty, and having heard about the new homicides, she’d felt a great urge to take care of her brand-new fiancé and had brought in a picnic basket lunch for him and his partner.
    Crusty rolls, Canadian cheddar, cold chicken and bottled water.
    ‘I didn’t bring wine,’ she said. ‘With you guys being on a case.’
    ‘Are you kidding?’ Martinez said. ‘We eat all this, we’ll snooze the rest of the day.’
    ‘It’s too much,’ Jess said, crestfallen. ‘I didn’t think.’
    ‘Too much?’ Sam said. ‘It’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for us in this place.’
    ‘And it means I get to see you,’ Martinez said.
    ‘I hope you realize we could get used to this,’ Sam said.
    Jess’s cheeks grew warm. ‘I guess Grace can’t do stuff like this, not with her work and the baby to take care of.’
    Sam smiled. ‘Oh, you’d be surprised at how much Grace can do.’
    Not much else that was good about today.
    About double homicide.
    Quadruple now.
    ‘What defines serial killing?’ Jess asked just before she left.
    ‘Not this,’ Martinez said, then knocked on his desk. ‘We hope.’
    ‘Unlawful homicide of at least two people,’ Sam said, ‘carried out in a series over a period of time, seems to be the minimal definition. Though cops tend not to think in serial terms without something more conclusive than that.’
    ‘More killings, in other words,’ Martinez said.
    ‘God forbid,’ Jess said.
    Though everyone now involved in the investigation was uncomfortably aware that the staged elements of the slayings made it all too possible that whoever was responsible might just feel like rounding off the ‘achievement’ with a third pair.
    God forbid, as Jess had said.
    Suddenly, midway through the afternoon, something.
    A few grains of sand found in the wheel tracks on the Christou lawn.
    On the face of it, not the biggest deal, considering Prairie Avenue was in Miami Beach. Except Crime Scene were saying that this was not Miami Beach sand, which was golden and comparatively coarse.
    The sand in those tracks was white and finer, more like Gulf Coast sand or even sand up in north-west Florida, which had some of the purest, whitest sand in the state – or it might just be from a bunker on one of the numerous golf courses in the area. And given time, they would probably be able to analyze it further, narrow it down. But for now, all they knew was that it wasn’t local beach sand, and no one could guess how that might help nail the killers of the fish tank victims.
    But it was, at least, something.
    It was too late when Sam got home for the kind of Friday evening that he loved;