Episode 2: A Case of Mistaken Identity

Episode 2
A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

The hospital room was bright, yet dismal in a way. Profiler Carrie Hawkins glanced around the medicinal surroundings and hoped the woman lying in bed would wake up soon. She had too many questions without answers concerning the train wreck.

"Do we know her identity yet?" Carrie looked at the only survivor of the train collision and winced at her injuries.

Detective Nick Boyd snapped his chewing gum and handed the willowy blond a Xeroxed copy of a driver's license.

"Alexandra Maxwell. Thirty-two. Not a lot to know about her. Bartender. Works at a club downtown called Temptation. From what I've been able to dig up so far -- she's sort of a drifter. Seventeen jobs in two years. All of them on the low end of the scale.

Nick noted Carrie's surprise.

"She's had seventeen jobs in two years with very little expendable income, I'd imagine. Yet she's wearing a very expensive pants suit." Carrie thumped her pencil against her notebook and turned to Nick. "How does a woman with no money afford something like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe her parents left her a trust fund. Maybe she's independently wealthy or good with the stock market. Hell, I don't know. And anyway, she's not the reason we're here, she's not a suspect.

Carrie offered a wan smile. "I know. But look at her handbag. Nothing at all like the material of her pant suit. This seems like a woman who would coordinate everything. The purse seems almost out of character."

"Can't stop analyzing for a minute, can you?" Nick smiled a killer grin that brought Carrie to an abrupt halt. His grins always did that to her. He was a ladies man, and she was not going to fall into that trap by being one of his "ladies". Nick was nice and kind, but there was a line Carrie had chosen not to cross when she met him five years ago.

"Sorry. Sometimes I go into profiler-mode even when it is not warranted."

"I can understand that," Nick stated. "I do the same thing. Sometimes it is hard to stop thinking and acting like a cop when you're off the time clock. My ex-wife could be testament to that." Nick picked up the strangely ornate white bag. It was funky, sort of off beat, not at all what this woman lying in bed would probably buy. "You're right. This purse isn't quite kosher. But look at the license and tell me that is not her."

Carrie glanced at the DMV photo. "Yeah, that's her all right. It just doesn't seem to...."

"Fit the profile?"

Carrie laughed. "Yeah. I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

Nick nodded and silence spanned the distance between them for a few seconds. The lull was broken only by the smacking of Nick's gum.

"Sorry. Nervous habit. I gave up smoking a few years back, and this is the only thing that will keep me on the wagon..." Nick smiled. "So to speak."

Carrie shook her head and effectively wiped the off topic nature of their conversation out of the room.

"The bomb was located under an unoccupied seat in the dining car. The area was open. People were coming and going during the minutes before the train took off. Anyone could have come in, placed the bomb and left again without anyone noticing."

"Looks like the guy was in a hurry too," Nick began to recreate the scene in his mind. "Bomb squad said the bomb wasn't secured to the chair properly and it flew across the room as it exploded -- which is why the second passenger car was also toast. If it had been locked down, only the dining car would have been affected."

Nick could see Carrie's mind working as the wheels of her memory cranked for a plausible answer.

"Was there anyone on the train who had a reason for someone wanting to kill them in such a dramatic way? Despite the shoddy job securing the bomb, everything else about this screams professional hit."

Nick unconsciously nodded. "We're still checking into that. So far the only name that has come up is Rayne O'Connor. He's a pretty famous Irish dancer who has left a string of women in his wake. Most recent was the daughter of the Vice-president, Jessica Thompson."

"Well," Carrie smiled. "There is an interesting coincidence."

"Lady," Nick said as he smacked his chewing gum. "I don't believe in coincidences."