Dispatched to Silence

Some calls should be answered... others should never be made. 

The hot afternoon sun battered the dusty windows of the precinct's narrow enclosure, flooding the cramped workspace with oppressive light. The air conditioning wheezed in defiance, struggling against the relentless heat but losing ground with each passing hour.

 She and her fellow detectives' desks are angled diagonally in the center of the room. The area is tight, often feeling cramped. The city had called the space a compromise. Rachel and her fellow detectives had called it confinement. The city denied Joe's expansion request. Rachel wouldn't let it go. Then they decided to have a small room built for the detectives, hoping to appease her.

The detectives feel like the small enclosure wedges them in, like clowns in a circus car. But the space does carve them away from the buzz and chaos of the main floor.

In the farthest pocket of the room, located at the back of their work area, Rachel is standing in front of the whiteboard. Pictures of their two victims are pinned on either side. They are both EMTs who are recently and violently deceased. Beneath each image is a timeline tracing their final hours in tight, linear detail.

The sergeant begins to list the victim's commonalities in one column and differences in another in the center of the board. Once she's finished, she takes a step back and reviews her work. 

"The two EMTs have worked for Carroll Regional Hospital for over fifteen years.

Rachel taps the first photo. Sam is single, with no girlfriends or exes as far as we know. He's liked by everyone, with no known enemies that anyone is aware of.

She turns to the second photograph. Evan, on the other hand, is charismatic and flirtatious, a serial seducer whose romantic track record was more scandal than love story. Married or single women, it doesn't seem to matter to him. I imagine there are a few husbands who fantasize about his demise.

"But if Evan was the intended target," Rachel mused, "why kill Sam?" Her brow furrowed. "Did the killer think Sam arranged the hookup?"

 Their coworkers said that the two victims didn't socialize together, so that's not it. That also means that the killings would have somehow been tied into their work. 

Could it have been a call gone wrong? If that's true, the others who were at the scene could be in grave danger. It could've been a call that only the two victims responded to. She mindlessly starts running her fingers through her hair, then catches herself. She stared at her hand as though it belonged to someone else, chuckled, and murmured, "I'm turning into the guys."

It was a habit both Joe and Jerry had adopted—an unconscious tic that emerged in moments of intense thought or suppressed frustration.

The only thing that ties them together is that they both work for Carroll Regional, as far as I can tell. So the murders resulted from a call they were on. The next logical step would be to get a list of all their calls and go from there. Going back fifteen years is going to take a lot of time. Will the fire chief hand them over willingly, or will he hide under the HIPAA laws? HIPAA protects patients privacy, among other things. There's only one way to know for sure.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she turns to find Kirk walking across the room. "Please tell me you have something."

The detective shakes his head, "I'm afraid not." The only prints that were found at Sam's were his, and his computer and his phone were wiped clean." 

What about Evan?"

"We found dozens of prints, but only one was in the system."

"Let me guess, they were his." 

"You got it." Kirk rolls his eyes and adds, "The rest are probably from his numerous dates."

"What about his electronics?"

"They were factory reset like Sam's was."

Rachel barely had time to digest the frustration before the desk sergeant's voice cut through the noise.

"Sergeant, your cousin Emma is here. Says it's urgent—something about your case."

Rachel's pulse ticked higher. "Maybe this is the break we're looking for." Rachel says, darting for the door.

Rachel steps out into the lobby to find Emma pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor, a concerned expression on her face as she mumbles softly to herself.

Seeing Rachel stepping through the doors, Emma dashes towards her. "I hate to bother you at work, but I just remembered something that might help you with this case." 

A thought suddenly comes to mind. Rachel glances around. Seeing that Emma is alone, she asks, "Where are the kids?"

"Mom is watching them."

Rachel blinks. "What?"

"Chill, cuz, your kids are fine."

"But."

"Mom can handle them for a little while, and Beca promised to check on them now and then."

"You didn't guilt her into watching them, did you?"

Emma chuckles and says, "Has anyone ever guilted Mom into anything?"

"True, so what happened?"

 "She ordered me to leave. She handed me my things and then shoved me out the door, telling me to live a little. I tried to argue, but she said that I'd be doing her a favor by letting her have them for a while, overjoyed at the idea of having them all to herself. You really should ask Mom to babysit sometimes. Even an hour would do Mom a world of good." 

Jeanie isn't actually Emma's mom; she's Emma's aunt, Rachel's mom, but Emma's been in Jeanie's care for so long that she refers to her as Mom. Which is only right since Jeanie is the only mom she's ever known. Emma's mother, Jeanie's sister, abandoned Emma when she was young. 

"I don't ask because I'm afraid it will be too much for her with her health issues and all." JJ not so much; he can pretty much take care of himself, but Lulu and Noah, those two can be a handful."

Emma nods. "I understand where you're coming from, really I do, but it upsets Mom when you ask everyone but her."

'But I…"

Emma interrupts. "She wants to feel like you still need her."

"I do."

"She doesn't feel that way. In fact, just last week she said that not asking her to watch the kids makes her feel useless."

"She isn't useless."

"She says she feels useless, that you're punishing her by not letting her see the kids."

Rachel exhales. "I could bring them over more often, I guess."

"That will make her feel a little better, but asking her to watch them would help more."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Emm." 

"I need to explain why I don't ask."

"Explain what? That you're worried watching the kids would be too much for her because of all of her health issues? Confirm her worst fears?"

Rachel imagines the conversation in her mind. "You're right, that would only make things worse."

"How about if she watches them for an hour or two on my days? That way she'll have time with them without wearing herself out."

"Two hours tops, and you promise me that you'll pop in now and then to make sure she's alright."

Nodding, Emma extends her hand. "Deal."

"Now that we have that settled, tell me about what you remembered."

She glances around the crowded area and then asks, "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Rachel points to an open office. "Let's go in there." Closing the door, Rachel asks, "You said you remembered something about this case?"

"It may not be anything important, but I thought I'd better mention it, just in case."

"Something you might think is small could be the break we're looking for."