I WOKE UP without the benefit of an alarm. It wasn’t uncommon when beginning a new case. There was always so
much to do that my mind raced, often leaving me lucky to even get to sle ep the night before a busy day.
But today I was up and out of the bedroom before sunrise. And I didn’t even wake Mary Catherine.
To my surprise, my son Brian was also already up and making pancakes for the younger kids.
“What’s got you moving so early?” I asked.
“I know Juliana’s busy helping Rob Trilling’s roommates. I figure I can do my share one day a week. Besides, I
can’t drive the kids to school today.
I have to be in the office early. So at least this way I contributed something.”
Even though he was eighteen and looked like an adult, I couldn’t help reaching out and ruffling Brian’s hair with
my hand. He was a great young man.
Thanks to my acute work anxiety, I found myself beating the traffic in uptown Manhattan and making it to the
office a few minutes after seven in the morning. I grabbed the parking spot I liked under the elevated train tracks
right in front of our unmarked building, a regular office building where the Manhattan North Homicide unit
inhabited one floor. It was a dream location for me. It was still on the Upper West Side and not a terrible commute
for me most days.
I took the elevator up to our floor, expecting a very quiet office. The only person I anticipated running into at this
hour was Walter Jackson, our criminal intelligence analyst, who tended to get in early so he could ke ep
his flow of information moving seamlessly to all the detectives in our squad. I knew Trilling had left for Montana
the night before. Usually, he’s the only real early bird in the office besides Walter.
I figured I’d make Walter’s large office, with his desk and bookshelves full of manuals and intelligence bulletins,
my first destination, to say hello and get a feel for what was going on. I barely looked up as I made my way over,
but as I approached the door, I realized he had a visitor.
Then the visitor turned and smiled. “Wow, I wish I had NYPD hours,” she said.
I was so shocked I didn’t speak for a moment. I looked at Walter, who didn’t understand my confusion. Finally, I
managed to say, “Hey, Maggie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I told you yesterday I was going to work on the case with you. What did you expect?” Maggie Chin let a grin
spread across her face. “Oh, you’re used to working with the FBI. I’m an ATF agent. We work when cops work.
Or, in your case, a little before when cops work.”
That got a hearty laugh from Walter Jackson.
Maggie didn’t wait for my r eply. “I gave Walter everything we had on the break-in at the arsenal. I also gave him a
summary of the failed bombing at the bank in Newark over the summer. His grasp of the case and what we need is
really quite impressive. I hope you guys appreciate his contributions.”
I bristled a little. “Trust me, we have appreciated Walter for many years.
If you want to help on this case, you can come with me while I ke ep looking for the ex-boyfriend of the victim in
yesterday’s bombing.”
Maggie shook her head. “That’s not logical. If Abby Boyd’s ex planted the bomb as some sort of revenge plot, how
come we can connect the bombing to the burglary at Picatinny Arsenal? You’re the one who pointed out that a large
pry bar was used on both locks in exactly the same way. I think it’s more likely the events are connected and the
boyfriend’s not in volved. I think looking into that is a better use of our time than chasing down a suspect who, in all
likelihood, doesn’t even have any idea how to make a bomb.”
“I don’t deny that logic. But it doesn’t change the fact that we have to at least talk to Abby’s ex-boyfriend, and I’d
rather get that out of the way up front.”
Maggie said, “Now that you’ve explained it so clearly, I’d be happy to come with you. What’s the ex’s name?”
“Jimmy Pinter.”
“Doesn’t seem like the bomber type.”
“And you don’t seem like a federal agent type. You’re in the office early, you’re agreeing to go out and do police
work with me, and you’re using logic.”
Maggie smiled and said, “I get a kick out of local cops making federal agent jokes. It’s cute.”
I could tell that Maggie was going to be a handful to work with.