bullets in this guy's skull."
"I understand," Yale said. "But that's of little utility."
Dalton glanced down at the ground, his neck wrinkling into another chin, and scratched his forehead. Then he nodded.
"Both assaults occurred during conventional work hours," Yale said. "Maybe our boy's unemployed."
"That would fit the low sophistication level of the crimes."
"The fact that we're dealing with an insecure, disorganized offender tells us something about the victims he chooses. And the locale. They'd both be within his comfort zone. This isn't the kind of guy to stray to new territory to hit his marks." Yale took in the breadth of the plaza. "I think he knows his way around here, maybe even works nearby, and he's familiar with doctors and nurses." He tapped his chin with a knuckle, a rare inexpedient gesture. "We should check records for plaintiffs in malpractice suits against the hospital."
"Though pursuing legal avenues would imply resources and wherewithal not necessarily in keeping with our profile," Dalton added.
"True." Yale snapped his gum. "I'm thinking he's too old to be a student at UCLA, but we probably can't rule it out given we're right on campus. You talk to CAD?"
"They're running a PACMIS and a CCAB, seeing if anything rings the cherries," Dalton said. "Should hear back tomorrow." When the Crime Analysis Detail officer put the alkali assaults through the Police Arrest Crime Management Information System and the Consolidated Crime Analysis Database, similar crimes in the area would show up immediately. The list would include anything in Westwood, on campus or off.
Dalton sat on the bench beside Yale, and they watched the burly patient near the hospital steps try to embroil a passing woman in conversation. She smiled curtly and kept walking. "Could be anyone," Dalton said. "Could be that fucker right there."
Yale shook his head. "No sir. Our guy fears women. That guy . . . " He stabbed a finger in the man's direction. "That guy's got confidence." A note of admiration found its way into his voice. "He'd be a keeper and a player, not a hit-and-runner. He'd be a Bundy. Our guy's a welfare Berkowitz."
Dalton stared hungrily at Yale's unopened In-N-Out bag. "The alkali came back from lab. Danny said they're all pretty much sodium hydroxide and sodium hypo-something, but the surfactants are different. Our boy's using DrainEze. Ever hear of it?"
"No."
"Exactly. Aside from being sold in a few drugstores, it's mostly used institutionally. Schools, factories, warehouses . . . "
"And hospitals."
"Bingo. They don't use it here, though. I'm giving a look at other places in the area, see who stocks it. It's a long shot."
"They're all long shots," Yale said. "But we do have one thing going for us."
"Two cases, same MO."
"That's right. We have the victims tied through the hospital, and we know where he likes to commit his assaults."
Dalton's smile was crooked. "That means we know where to wait."
Yale tapped his temple with a finger.
David and Jenkins appeared at opposite sides of the plaza at about the same time. They both made their way toward Yale and Dalton, neither noticing the other. Yale watched the impending collision with dismay. Dalton picked up on his tense posture and followed his gaze. "Oh. Shit."
David reached them first and squatted before the bench, white coat spreading behind him like a cape. "I was told you were up here. I was wondering if you had any strong leads I could bring back to the ER."
"Well," Jenkins called out as he approached. "If it isn't the good doctor. What brings you off your turf?"
David rose quickly, so as to face Jenkins on his feet. "I just wanted an update. To see when you think you'll have this guy safely in custody."
Jenkins laughed a hard laugh. David waited patiently through the performance. "Safely in custody," Jenkins repeated. "That's a good one."
"Why," David asked, "is that a good one?"
Dalton stood. "Jenkins," he said, his voice low and soothing.
"No,"
"I understand," Yale said. "But that's of little utility."
Dalton glanced down at the ground, his neck wrinkling into another chin, and scratched his forehead. Then he nodded.
"Both assaults occurred during conventional work hours," Yale said. "Maybe our boy's unemployed."
"That would fit the low sophistication level of the crimes."
"The fact that we're dealing with an insecure, disorganized offender tells us something about the victims he chooses. And the locale. They'd both be within his comfort zone. This isn't the kind of guy to stray to new territory to hit his marks." Yale took in the breadth of the plaza. "I think he knows his way around here, maybe even works nearby, and he's familiar with doctors and nurses." He tapped his chin with a knuckle, a rare inexpedient gesture. "We should check records for plaintiffs in malpractice suits against the hospital."
"Though pursuing legal avenues would imply resources and wherewithal not necessarily in keeping with our profile," Dalton added.
"True." Yale snapped his gum. "I'm thinking he's too old to be a student at UCLA, but we probably can't rule it out given we're right on campus. You talk to CAD?"
"They're running a PACMIS and a CCAB, seeing if anything rings the cherries," Dalton said. "Should hear back tomorrow." When the Crime Analysis Detail officer put the alkali assaults through the Police Arrest Crime Management Information System and the Consolidated Crime Analysis Database, similar crimes in the area would show up immediately. The list would include anything in Westwood, on campus or off.
Dalton sat on the bench beside Yale, and they watched the burly patient near the hospital steps try to embroil a passing woman in conversation. She smiled curtly and kept walking. "Could be anyone," Dalton said. "Could be that fucker right there."
Yale shook his head. "No sir. Our guy fears women. That guy . . . " He stabbed a finger in the man's direction. "That guy's got confidence." A note of admiration found its way into his voice. "He'd be a keeper and a player, not a hit-and-runner. He'd be a Bundy. Our guy's a welfare Berkowitz."
Dalton stared hungrily at Yale's unopened In-N-Out bag. "The alkali came back from lab. Danny said they're all pretty much sodium hydroxide and sodium hypo-something, but the surfactants are different. Our boy's using DrainEze. Ever hear of it?"
"No."
"Exactly. Aside from being sold in a few drugstores, it's mostly used institutionally. Schools, factories, warehouses . . . "
"And hospitals."
"Bingo. They don't use it here, though. I'm giving a look at other places in the area, see who stocks it. It's a long shot."
"They're all long shots," Yale said. "But we do have one thing going for us."
"Two cases, same MO."
"That's right. We have the victims tied through the hospital, and we know where he likes to commit his assaults."
Dalton's smile was crooked. "That means we know where to wait."
Yale tapped his temple with a finger.
David and Jenkins appeared at opposite sides of the plaza at about the same time. They both made their way toward Yale and Dalton, neither noticing the other. Yale watched the impending collision with dismay. Dalton picked up on his tense posture and followed his gaze. "Oh. Shit."
David reached them first and squatted before the bench, white coat spreading behind him like a cape. "I was told you were up here. I was wondering if you had any strong leads I could bring back to the ER."
"Well," Jenkins called out as he approached. "If it isn't the good doctor. What brings you off your turf?"
David rose quickly, so as to face Jenkins on his feet. "I just wanted an update. To see when you think you'll have this guy safely in custody."
Jenkins laughed a hard laugh. David waited patiently through the performance. "Safely in custody," Jenkins repeated. "That's a good one."
"Why," David asked, "is that a good one?"
Dalton stood. "Jenkins," he said, his voice low and soothing.
"No,"
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