David finally let loose. “I know his name! I want to help!” reformed sinner David wailed. “But… but look at me! I'm living in maximum security, Maureen. I'm living in the middle of Steel City, surrounded by the worst of the worst. And look at me! I'm only five eight. I weigh a hundred and fifty pounds. For God's sake, do you know what it means to be so small in a place like this? Do you?”

“What are you saying, David?”

“Information is power, Maureen. In prison. In life. This is the only information I have. It's my only chance at power in a place like this. God forgive me, but I can't just give it up. I need something in return.”

Maureen finally drew back. For the first time, she sounded genuinely disappointed. “You'll only give up the name of the College Hill Rapist in return for something else? That's what you're saying, isn't it, David? You'll only help us if there's something in it for you.”

This was the tricky part. David bowed his head, then he sneaked a humble peek at his audience. “I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm sorry to everyone out there, too. I know it's not right. But that's how the system works, and I'm part of this system now. I have to play by these rules.”

“Are you hoping to get out of prison? You raped and murdered babies, David. You buried their bodies in your basement. No matter what you know now, people are going to be uncomfortable with you getting any kind of consideration.”

“I know.”

“You're a murderer, David. Let's be honest. You're in maximum security for a reason, and most people are grateful that you're there.”

David took a deep breath. “I'm a father.”

“You're a father?” Maureen was so shocked, she actually blinked her eyes. It was probably the first genuine emotion she'd ever shown on camera.

“Yeah. I'm a father. I have a little girl. Five years old. Maureen, I've never gotten to see my little girl. Never even… gotten to say hi.”

Maureen's face grew serious again, her tone intent. “What do you want, David?”

“I want to see my little girl, that's all. Look, I'm not denying what you say. I know I'm never getting out of prison. I've made my peace with that. After the things I did, I should be grateful just to be on God's green earth. I've seen the chaplain. I'm reading the Bible. While I can't change what I have done, Maureen, I can try to be a better man from this day forth-”

“Tell us the name of the College Hill Rapist, David.”

“I have a daughter,” he continued relentlessly, “and she's getting to that age where she's noticing that she doesn't have a father like other kids. I want her to know that it's not her fault. I want her to know that someone loves her. I want her to know that I love her.”

“What do you want, David?”

“Three hours, Maureen. That's what I want, all I want. Three hours, fully supervised, in street clothes, to go see my daughter. For the first time. For the only time. So I can tell her that I love her. So I can tell her that she's a good girl. So I can tell her that I can't be her father, but it's not her fault.”

“You want the state to release you from prison for three hours. To turn a convicted killer loose on the outside?”

David held up his hands. “Supervised hardship leave, Maureen. Like the corrections department does for funerals, things like that. I'd be shackled, wrists and ankles. Escorted by corrections officers at all times. The police can pick where we meet, they can pick how we get there. I'll do whatever I'm told. Greeting my daughter in leg irons with a security escort is still better than making her come here. Let's face it, no little girl belongs here.”

Maureen finally sat back. She was frowning but for the first time she seemed willing to consider his proposal. And if she was willing to consider it, others would be willing…

“A three-hour hardship leave, fully supervised. And in return you'll provide the name of the College Hill Rapist?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Who is your daughter, David?”

“I won't tell you.”

“This daughter you love so much?”

“My daughter exists, Maureen. Just ask any prison official. But I'm not announcing her name on public TV. I wouldn't do that to my little girl.”

Maureen made one last play. “Why don't you give us the rapist's name now, David, and in return I'll go to work on securing a three-hour leave as you have requested. In return for doing the city such a big favor, I'm sure something could be arranged.”

“You're a nice lady, Maureen.”

“Thank you, David.”

“But I'm not that dumb.”

“What?”

“I get my three hours. I see my little girl. And when it's done, I'll turn to the first police officer I find and tell him the College Hill Rapist's name. That's the deal. I hope it happens, and for all of our sakes, I hope it happens soon. The College Hill Rapist is a hungry man. Come nightfall, he'll strike again.”

“David-”

“Oh, and Sergeant Griffin, if you're listening, I'll say it again. Your delicious wife and I, we were honestly just friends.”

Chapter 38

GRIFFIN WAS HAVING A HARD TIME CONTROLLING HIS rage. He leaned his massive frame across the gleaming, cherry-wood desk, homed in on the young man who had the misfortune to be the sperm bank's business manager and didn't waste any time on words.

“Janitor. Name. Now.”

“I'm trying to tell you, we don't have a janitor.”

“Who cleans?”

“A service.”

“Their name. Now.”

“I need to look it up.”

“Then look it up, dammit!”

The man turned hastily toward a cherry file cabinet, manicured hands fumbling with the wooden handle while he sweated through his Armani suit. Apparently there was money in infertility treatments. Lots of it.

Fitz stood behind Griffin. Waters stood next to Fitz. Both were eyeing him carefully, but neither of them intervened.

“Korporate Klean,” Mr. Management Money announced two minutes later.

“Address?”

The man handed over the manila file. Griffin flipped through the pages.

“There are no names of which individuals actually handle your building.”

“Our contract is with Korporate Klean. They figure out the staffing.”

“How often do they come?”

“Every night.”

“What about daytime?”

“When they have special projects. The inside of the windows, polishing the brass railings in the elevators and stairs. Oh, and laundry. They bring in fresh loads of linens, towels, etc., a few afternoons a week. We, uh, we like to make our patrons feel like they're at home, and not in a clinical environment.”

“How thoughtful of you. Who brings in the laundry?”

“I don't know.”

“How big is the crew that works this building?”

“I don't know.”

“Same people all the time?”

“I don't know!”

“Mr. Matthews-”

“Our contract is with Korporate Klean, Sergeant. I'm sorry, I'm honestly trying to help. But we don't worry about those details. You'll have to talk to them.”

“Thanks for the file,” Griffin snarled, and stalked out of the building.

In the elevator, Fitz took the folder. “I've heard of them. Korporate Klean.”

“The PPD has cleaners?” Waters drawled mildly. “I never would have guessed.”

Fitz shot the skinny detective an impatient glance. “No, we investigated them once. You numbnuts should've heard of them, too. Korporate Klean hires mostly ex-cons.”

“What?” Griffin stopped pacing the brass-trimmed elevator and stared at Fitz.

He shrugged. “It's a ‘second chance' company, you know. Run by a couple of Ben amp; Jerry liberals who believe people really can reform their evil ways. Guy serves his time, gets out of prison, he's gotta start somewhere. He goes to Korporate Klean and reenters polite society as a janitor. We've checked into them a few times but never found any funny business. Everyone makes good, everyone works hard, everyone plays well with others. At least that's what the owner, Sal Green, says.”