Chapter 4 Dangerous Alliances
Battery Park was swarming with cops when I arrived. The morning sun cast long shadows across the harbor, but all I could focus on was the yellow tape and the familiar cluster of investigators around another alley.
Alex was waiting by the perimeter, camera hanging around his neck like any other reporter. But when our eyes met across the crowd, I saw something different. Fear, maybe. Or recognition that this case was spiraling beyond what either of us could control.
"Detective Jenkins!" Officer Martinez waved me over. "Victim's name is Emily Rodriguez, twenty-six, works as a freelance photographer. Same MO as the others."
I ducked under the tape, my stomach already churning. Emily lay positioned exactly like the previous victims—hands folded, legs straight, almost peaceful except for the blood and defensive wounds. But something was different this time.
"Has anyone noticed the location pattern?" I asked Martinez.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
I pulled out my phone and opened the map app. "Sarah Walsh in the West Village, victim two in Brooklyn, victim three in Queens, victim four in the Bronx, and now Emily in Manhattan. He's moving in a circle around the city."
"Could be random," Martinez said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Or it could be intentional." I took photos of the scene, noting the same respectful positioning, the same hand arrangement Alex had shown me. Three fingers extended, two folded down. "Has the task force been notified?"
"Detective Jameson's on his way."
Perfect. I had maybe ten minutes before Jameson arrived and started asking questions I wasn't ready to answer. Ten minutes to decide whether to trust Alex Chen with information that could make or break this case.
I walked to the edge of the perimeter where Alex was waiting. Up close, I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he adjusted his camera strap.
"We need to talk," he said quietly. "Not here. Too many ears."
"I can't be seen leaving with you."
"Then meet me tonight. Pier 45, eight PM. Come alone."
The request sent warning bells through my head. Meeting a reporter alone at night was beyond stupid—it was career suicide. But the urgency in Alex's voice made me pause.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I think I know who's next."
Before I could respond, Jameson's voice cut through the crime scene chatter. "Jenkins! Over here."
Alex melted back into the crowd of reporters as I walked toward Jameson. He was studying the body with the intense focus I remembered, taking in every detail like he was memorizing it.
"Same killer?" he asked.
"Definitely. Same positioning, same signature with the hands." I hesitated, then decided to take a small risk. "There might be a geographic pattern. The locations form a rough circle around Manhattan."
Jameson looked up sharply. "Show me."
I pulled out my phone and traced the locations on the map. "If I'm right about the pattern, the next victim will be somewhere in lower Manhattan or possibly Staten Island."
"That's a lot of ground to cover." Jameson stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. "But it's something. Good work, Jenkins."
The praise felt strange coming from him, considering our history. Three years ago, a case had gone wrong under his leadership, and I'd been the one to pay the price. Now here we were, forced to work together again.
"There's something else," I said, testing the waters. "I think we should expand our search beyond New York. This killer's MO is too polished—"
"Not you too," Jameson cut me off. "Agent Rodriguez already shot down that theory in the meeting. We focus on what we know, not what we think might be connected."
"But what if—"
"Drop it, Jenkins. That's an order."
I watched him walk away, frustration building in my chest. The task force was making the same mistakes Alex had warned me about—treating this as an isolated case instead of part of something bigger. If Alex was right about the pattern, we were already behind.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Check your email. Sent you something important. -A"
I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then opened my email. Alex had sent me a detailed analysis of the geographic patterns from all twelve cities he'd been tracking. Each killer had moved in a methodical circle, targeting specific types of locations, always staying one step ahead of local police.
The worst part was the timeline. In every city, the killing spree had lasted exactly two months before the killer moved on. If the pattern held, we had less than three weeks before he disappeared and started hunting somewhere else.
I closed the email and pocketed my phone as Jameson approached again.
"I'm assigning you to work with Detective Chen," he said. "Focus on victim connections. See if there's something we're missing about how the killer chooses his targets."
"Which Detective Chen?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.
"David Chen, Manhattan South. He's been running background checks on all five victims."
The coincidence was too much. Alex Chen, journalist tracking a serial killer across the country. Detective David Chen, working victim background checks. Either it was the strangest coincidence in NYPD history, or there was something I was missing.
"Problem with that assignment?" Jameson asked.
"No problem," I lied.
As I walked back to my car, I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff. On one side was my career, my reputation, everything I'd worked for. On the other was the possibility that Alex Chen might be the key to stopping a killer who'd already claimed forty-seven lives.
My phone rang. Detective David Chen's name appeared on the screen.
"Detective Jenkins? This is David Chen. I believe we're working together now. I was hoping we could meet this afternoon to go over the victim profiles."
"Of course," I said. "Your office or mine?"
"Actually, there's something I'd prefer to discuss in private. Are you familiar with the coffee shop on Bleecker with the blue awning?"
My blood turned to ice. That was the same coffee shop where I'd met Alex Chen yesterday. Either it was another coincidence, or Detective David Chen knew more about my activities than he should.
"I'll be there in an hour," I said.
As I hung up, I realized I was deeper in this mess than I'd thought. Tonight's meeting with Alex at Pier 45 had just become a lot more complicated.
The killer was circling Manhattan, and I was caught between two men named Chen who might both be hiding dangerous secrets.