Barnard College
November 16, 5.10 p.m.
After her lecture, Denise Levene spent the rest of the day doing the rounds of the department, catching up with her former colleagues, and then drinking a good Sancerre with them well into the evening. The general consensus was that Denise had been a great colleague and she was sorely missed. She was a profoundly good communicator, but at thirty-two she was still young enough for the science community to patronize her. A woman had to produce twice as many papers and work twice as hard to get the recognition of a man with half her talent, but that was the way of the world.
It wasn’t right, but it was true, like many things in life.
It was partly the endless pats on the head while the glass ceiling was closing over it that had motivated her to move out of research and try to get direct law enforcement experience with the police or the Feds. She’d found a position as psychotherapist for the NYPD almost at once. Those jobs didn’t usually attract people as well qualified as Denise and they bit her hand off at the first interview. They offered her a nice office and enough bad cops to keep her interested, and they’d even let her continue her research and maybe find a way to fund it. She’d taken the job on the spot. The head of department at Columbia called her a ‘reactionary masochist’. She’d known then that she’d made the right decision. She wanted to be close to the real thing, not hiding away in the safety of academia her whole life.
Her dad would’ve approved too, to a degree. He was a practical man, a man who liked to get right in. She didn’t know how he’d feel about her working for the police, though. That would’ve been an interesting conversation if he’d still been alive.
The truth was that the NYPD offered her access to men and women who had seen these violent criminals first hand. They offered her access to the behavioural science unit at Quantico. She was excited, no doubt about it. It wasn’t the same, interviewing the convicted criminals in prison. Everyone thought it was, but she knew that these killers changed when they got caught. A murderer sitting in a cell, devoid of any targets, was not the same guy as the man still free in the world and open to the temptation of his desires.
Denise was interested in the time before they were caught. It was behaviour prediction that really excited her. She wanted to know if it could be modelled. That was the most interesting thing of all. How these people managed their own minds when they were out there in the world. Was there something predictable in these unpredictable killers? It was understanding how they operated out there that would lead to real developments in profiling. And that would mean more guys like them getting caught.
Denise smiled across the room at someone she didn’t recognize. She was tired now and wanted to get off home. As the party was slowing down, Denise managed to find an office off the reception room in which to call her partner, who was out somewhere on the campaign trail. Daniel was a fitness-obsessed, carrot-juice-loving liberal but he was hers. They’d been together five years. He worked long hours as an adviser on environmental issues to a Democrat senator. He was one of the good guys looking after the planet. Denise listened to the ringing. She could see him sitting on a lazy chair in his vest and shorts, a running magazine on his knees, the news on in the background. He picked up.
‘How did it go, darling?’ Daniel asked in his slow West Coast tones. He’d been unable to attend her lecture and had sent her flowers by way of an apology. The senator always came first, but Daniel made sure it never felt that way to Denise and she appreciated those little touches.
‘That’s my last one for a while,’ she said. ‘It felt hard seeing everyone again. But it went well. How was Fahrenheit when you left?’
‘He was missing you, but he’s got your sister with him now, so he’ll be in doggy heaven with chocolate biscuits at every meal.’
Denise loved her dog and her partner in that order. Daniel was wonderful when he had the time but her spaniel offered her the unconditional, uncomplicated affection that she remembered from her childhood.
‘I might not stay long,’ Denise said. ‘I want to go home, get out of this suit and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s watching Angels with Dirty Faces.’
‘I’d love to join you.’
‘Let’s say a prayer to a boy who couldn’t run as fast as I could,’ said Denise in a terrible James Cagney impression.
‘It’s a good thing you’re not taking up acting.’
‘Yeah, it’s also a good thing you’re out of reach right now.’
‘Not like you to be violent,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s working with the NYPD.’
Denise paused. ‘Heh, it’s the same cops who put their lives on the line trying to keep the city safe so that liberal assholes can make like they own the place.’
‘Apologies,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure they’re doing all those liberal assholes a great service.’
‘Apology accepted, you liberal asshole.’
Daniel laughed. ‘God, I love it when you talk dirty. If I was with you right now-’
‘You’re big with the mouth, Daniel, but you’re never at home to follow these promises through.’
‘Saving the planet’s an important job. Can’t just switch it off.’
‘It’s not the job I want switched off, it’s you. You need to lie back once in a while.’
‘Hey, are you watching the news?’ Daniel leaned forward and watched the ticker tape crossing the bottom of Fox News.
‘No, I’m in an office. What’s going on?’
‘They’re reporting a homicide in New York.’
‘What happened? When was this?’
‘It’s just breaking now. A woman was found dead out on Ward’s Island.’
Denise focused. ‘Is it linked to Mary-Jane’s murder?’
‘They’re speculating. Fox News are right on the scene with live feeds. You should take a look.’
‘I can’t here. Tell me what happened.’
‘Like I said, a woman killed and dumped on the rocks. It looks as though you might have your work cut out, Denise.’
‘Yeah, well, I want to help.’
She remained on the phone to Daniel for another minute, until she signed off with her usual ending: ‘Love you till tomorrow.’
She opened the door and looked into the crowded reception room, full of bright and smiling faces, all there to wish her well. Denise’s eyes were not focused on any of them. She had to leave quickly. She wanted to see the homicide report.