Invaded

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  Snatching the folder, John pushed the door of the war room open. He took a sip of the coffee before setting the paper cup on the long, laminate-covered table. “Is she a prostitute?”

  “Unconfirmed, but we don’t believe so. She lives in a pretty ritzy neighborhood. Works in upper management at Stockton and Alberts. She’s a six-figure executive.”

  John opened the folder and withdrew her picture. “She’s a brunette.”

  “Yeah, so I guess our guy isn’t only looking for blondes.”

  “If this is even our guy. Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.” John rubbed his chin. “So, she’s been gone two and a half days. Is there any past history of disappearance?”

  “None. Employer says she’s always on time. She missed several meetings on Tuesday, one jeopardizing a deal she’d been working on for months.”

  John picked up the photo and placed her beside Melissa and Diana on the war board.

  “Her friends say she’s a partier. Spends a lot of time in bars.”

  “Could she have known Melissa Harpoona?”

  “We couldn’t find any connection.”

  John rubbed his chin, staring into each woman’s eyes. Diana had been found on the walkway in front of her favorite pizza shop. She went missing and died the same day. Melissa had been gone for three days before being found in her parents’ house.

  How did Alexandra connect, if she connected at all?

  John placed both palms against the board and stared into Alexandra’s eyes. “Where are you?” he whispered.

  The last two victims didn’t show up on the radar until they were already dead. This could be completely unrelated.

  But it wasn’t. Deep down, he knew.

  If their perpetrator kept up his MO, she was probably dead already. But if she was dead, why hadn’t anyone found her? He’d made no attempt to hide his victims yet, why start now?

  The woman’s eyes reached out to him, begging. He dove deep into her gaze. There had to be a connection. Something. Her irises came into clear focus.

  He leaned back. “Green.”

  “Green?”

  “They all have green eyes.”

  19

  Tracy tugged at her hair, considering the even higher pile of ads waiting for her approval that morning. Miles had given her an extra two days off, but he’d made no attempt to lighten the workload for her return. She considered the tower of photocopied cover sheets sitting on the edge of her desk. At least the results of her copying spree hadn’t gone to waste.

  She grabbed the first job and stared at the graphics. Her eyes blurred slightly, and she rubbed them. McNulty walked past her cubicle, glanced at her, and snorted. Asshole.

  Like it wasn’t bad enough that everyone had stared at her as she walked through the door this morning. But after Monday, she couldn’t blame them. The whispers started instantly: the mad copy machine addict, back for another go at the Xerox.

  She sighed. How long would it take for everyone to get over this new little tidbit of office gossip? She’d be the resident freak until something else happened to garner their attention. Office life was going to suck until that blessed day arrived.

  Tracy checked the margins and PMS colors on the Parent One ad campaign and scrolled her name on the signature line. Her gaze carried over the remaining ads and to the hallway.

  What was out there other than the copy machine that she could play with?

  Play with?

  She shook the fog from her head and grabbed the next ad off the top of the pile. It had been too long since she’d been in the office. She needed to retrain herself to focus.

  At least that’s what she wanted to believe.

  Something twitched in her stomach and she ran her palm over her abdomen. Her eyes stung, and she blinked back welling tears. The truth was hard to ignore. Adonna was waking up.

  But Tracy would be fine. She could do this.

  20

  John turned right, pulling onto Route 42 heading toward Winslow. According to dispatch, they’d sent two patrol cars to answer the call after a maid at a local motel found a woman’s body tied to a bed. Fifteen minutes later, another call from the neighboring building reported shots fired. Why it took them over an hour to get this information to him, he didn’t know.

  John gritted his teeth and did his best to not linger on the incompetency. The longer it took him to get there, the more chance of the evidence being compromised. He had the best shot of finding something useful in a fresh crime scene.

  Dak shook, bouncing between John’s temples. John conjured every happy thought he could come up with, doing his best to calm his friend down.

  *I don’t want to look at the body.*

  “I have to, buddy. It’s my job.”

  *But they all look the same. I don’t understand, if blood is so important to you, why does it come out so easily?*

  “It’s just the way it is. Would you mind giving me a little quiet to think?”

  Police tape cordoned off the parking lot of the Royal Dove Inn. He’d investigated a missing person at this establishment a few years ago. Interesting layout for a South Jersey hotel. One of the few places that boasted a front and back door to each unit. His gaze carried over the top of the building and traveled along the vast expanse of woods behind the building. This piece of the puzzle wasn’t new. There were trees behind the pizza place, as well as the Harpoona’s residence.

  Not a coincidence.

  Sergeant Biggs flagged him down. “Looks like one of our guys may have shot someone fleeing the scene but the suspect got away. Commings had them tape off some blood in the trees.” His gaze carried to a patrol car leaving the scene. “Everyone not directly involved here is already searching the perimeter. This asshole is bleeding. We’ll find him.”

  “Where’s the cop who shot him?”

  “At Winslow Township Municipal. I’m heading down there now. But you I want in that crime scene.”

  John nodded and headed toward the open police-guarded door to room number twenty-five.

  Forensics had beaten him to the scene and were still processing the victim when he arrived.

  One of them held up a driver’s license between his gloved fingers. “Alexandra Nixon.”

  John nodded. Giving them room, he took a quick scan of the body and the splash of blood on the wall before he slipped out the sliding glass door.

  Art stepped out with him. “That’s all? You’re not going to yell at anyone for trampling evidence?”

  “Why bother?” He saw what he needed to see. The amount of blood and the position of the body told the story.

  He stared past the narrow rear parking lot and into the forest—the same forest their perpetrator had stared at. The trees were important to him. It was probably something more than an escape route, something John hadn’t figured out yet.

  The change in length of event for each murder didn’t add up. One night for the first victim, three nights for the second, and five nights for the third. Was he getting more comfortable, or was it something completely different?

  “You wanna see the blood in the woods?” Art pointed to yellow police tape shifting in the breeze behind some brush.

  John held up a hand, silencing him.

  In the room, Forensics prepared to load the body into a bag for transport. Only her right leg and foot were visible at this angle. John turned his attention back toward the trees. “He had her tied up for days. Raped her repeatedly. He took his time.”

  Art shifted beside him. “How did you get that from a one-minute walk through?”

  John continued to scan the trees to either side of the flapping yellow tape. “The abrasions on her wrists, under the ropes. Signs of struggle but time to heal in between. She had some quiet intervals. Maybe he left her during the day and came back each night.”

  “Shitbag,” Art whispered.

  The wind picked up, breaking a piece of the marking tape, leaving it to fly free. The murderer was out there somewhere, gloating.r />
  What was his after-murder ritual? Did he sit alone and have a cup of tea? Did he go somewhere public and watch the news? Or did he stew over what he’d done, remembering every second, maybe even relishing it?

  “Some of those lacerations on her stomach have a few days of healing,” John whispered. “You cut her a little bit each day, didn’t you? You liked to watch the blood spill across her skin. Why? Was it power? Did it make you feel strong? Did you get off on it?”

  His partner chewed his cheek beside him. “You get freaking scary sometimes, you know that?”

  Inside, Forensics picked items out of the carpet and placed them inside small plastic bags. Over the next few days, they’d find it was remnants of past guests. The killer only left behind what he wanted them to find. That part he’d been consistent on, but eventually his arrogance would lead to a mistake, and John was more than ready to call this bastard on it.

  However, he had to find this nut bag before he made that mistake. Tonight, this lunatic would be out looking for his next victim. The only way to stop that now would be to keep every green-eyed woman within a twenty-mile radius locked tightly in their own homes. And since that wasn’t likely to happen anytime this century, he had to work faster than ever.

  “Let’s take a look at the blood you found.” John stepped off the back patio square.

  *This is making me hurt. Can we think about something more pleasant…like Tracy?*

  It’s my job to save lives. I can’t do that if my mind is on a woman.

  Art slipped his hands in his pockets and strode silently beside John as they walked toward the trees, scanning the asphalt and the surrounding parking spaces.

  Until a week ago, John had given up on dating. After Amy, he’d had a few first dates, but never any second dates. After a while, he had no dates at all. How could he try to have a serious relationship with someone who couldn’t understand what it was like to have a completely different person inside him?

  *That’s why Tracy and Adonna are perfect.*

  John bent to get a closer look at a pile of stones near the curb. You haven’t even officially met Adonna.

  *But I know she’ll like me. What’s not to like?*

  John straightened and headed into the woods. Dak had gotten better and better at distracting him; and Tracy was too tempting a diversion.

  Damn, those eyelashes, those lips…

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Art came up from behind.

  John grimaced. He needed to keep his focus on the case. “Our guys rattled him. Somehow, we caught him off guard and he panicked. Ran straight into the woods, rather than one of his well-calculated exits.”

  “So, you do think this is the same guy?”

  John crouched beside a scattering of crimson-stained oak leaves. “Yeah, I do.” He straightened. “I need to talk to the cop.”

  Stopped at a red light, John rubbed his burning eyes. His shoulder ached like he’d taken a beating. It seemed like he’d hardly slept at all, but he couldn’t remember lying awake last night. Maybe he slept too deeply, or in a bad position. He massaged his shoulder. Coffee. He definitely needed more coffee.

  Dak fizzled to the surface, swirling below his hand, relieving some of the ache. *Please feel better, John. I’m looking forward to you having the sex with Tracy tonight.*

  John straightened. “Jumping the gun a little, aren’t we? It’s only a second date.”

  *Come on, she’s perfect. You know she is. Don’t you want to touch her?*

  The light changed, and he pulled onto a neighborhood street. “You told me Adonna was too weak. She probably won’t be able to do whatever it is that you guys do to each other.”

  *I can give her joy even if she’s too weak to give in return. And remember, I feel what you feel. A human orgasm is almost as good as the real thing.*

  John snorted at his friend’s probably un-intentional snub. But Dak had done what he did best…distract John. He had to admit, there was a light in Tracy’s eyes when she smiled. There was something about the innocence wrapped up inside the outwardly modern woman that made him want to pull her into his arms and protect her from the reality of this godforsaken world.

  A shimmer ran through his stomach that probably had little to do with his Ambient. Not to mention the tightening in his pants. “I really like this girl, Dak.”

  *I know. That’s why we should have the sex.*

  “It’s too soon. I don’t want to scare her off. And I’m also in the middle of a multiple murder investigation. I don’t have time to—”

  The car stopped suddenly. John couldn’t move his foot from the brake pedal.

  He glanced at his rearview mirror into his own eyes. “Get your foot off the brake, Dak.”

  Thank goodness there was no one else on the residential road.

  His hands shook under Dak’s fury. *Don’t you dare ruin this for us. Tracy is a one-in-a-million chance. You like each other. Why would you even think of not going after her?*

  “The timing is bad. Don’t you get that?”

  *The timing is always going to be bad. She’s not Amy. It’s going to be different this time.*

  Was he really using his job as an excuse to avoid being hurt again? Maybe.

  His leg relaxed and he removed his foot from the brake. Dak was always more amicable once John bent to his way of thinking. But then again, it was probably easier for Dak to live within his host when John took the time to consider things from his Ambient’s perspective.

  “I’m not going to do anything to ruin our chances with Tracy.”

  *I need this, John.*

  “I understand, but you need to remember that there is a human girl involved. One with feelings. I can’t just do her in the back of my car so you can get your rocks off.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. Dak didn’t say it, but his entire being screamed why not‽

  “How could you have lived in three other people all these years and not learned anything about humanity?”

  An empty stillness encompassed him for several seconds.

  *I want you to be happy.*

  “I want you to be happy, too. Give me time, okay?”

  Dak slipped deeper into John’s psyche as they drove into the Winslow Municipal parking lot. John parked between Sergeant Biggs’s Chevy and a black and white patrol car. An Available sign stood on the front lawn. He’d thought this building had been closed already. With the number of empty spaces in the parking lot, it certainly wasn’t the police hub it had been six months ago.

  Voices shouted from the rear of the building. One of them was his boss.

  “I told you, I shot him,” a uniformed officer yelled in Biggs’s face; not the best thing for a cop to do if they wanted to keep their job.

  John placed himself between the arguing men. “I’m Detective John Peters. Is there something about this case I need to be made aware of?”

  The officer who had spoken, Doogan from the badge on his shirt, shifted his bulky form. John knew the type: tall, muscular, and used to using his size and uniform to intimidate people. He’d been no different at his age.

  “Forensics thinks the blood in the woods was from the girl,” Doogan said. “It wasn’t. I shot the fucker. I saw him fall.”

  John raised his hand. “You were one of the first officers on the scene? What did you see?” A flutter ran through John’s stomach. Dak must have been nervous about having to hear about the murders again.

  Doogan thrust his chest out. “We answered the call. We found the girl and I saw a man running into the trees. I identified myself as a police officer, but he kept running. I took two shots and he fell.”

  John raised a brow. “You shot a man in the back?”

  “No.” Doogan’s eyes darkened. “I shot a cold-blooded-killer in the back. We combed the woods, though. Once the blood trail stopped, there was no sign of him.”

  “Did anyone else see the suspect?”

  Doogan shrugged. “No, but I pegged the bastard. I know I did.”
<
br />   Spoken as if he was proud of shooting an unarmed man. Idiot. But maybe they could use this to their advantage.

  John turned to Biggs. “Have we checked local hospitals?”

  “Of course.” Biggs gave him that ‘I’m not an idiot’ look and held out his hand to Doogan. “I’ll need your gun and badge.”

  The cop’s face reddened. “Seriously?”

  “You know the rules. Desk duty. Should be temporary.”

  He slammed the weapon and badge into the sergeant’s hand. “This is bullshit.” He scowled and stomped away, grumbling colorful obscenities.

  Biggs shook his head and flipped Doogan’s badge over in his palm.

  “Do you think he saw the killer?” John asked.

  “Inconclusive. They are running a DNA scan.”

  John tapped his finger against his bottom lip. Maybe the perpetrator was starting to get sloppy, after all. John would need to meet with Forensics, and then get Doogan into a room alone where he wasn’t peacocking in front of a superior. This might be the break he needed.

  John glanced up to the clock on the wall. One-fifteen. Hopefully he’d have enough time to make a dent in this case and still make his date with Tracy. Dak shimmied, but remained silent. Maybe his friend knew the inevitable. This was going to be a long night and John had a feeling Tracy wouldn’t be a part of it.

  21

  Tracy’s cell phone chimed. She put the last dabs of mascara on her lashes then grabbed her phone.

  The caller ID read: John.

  “Hey, you. I’ll be ready soon.” Silence answered her. She bit her lip as her stomach sank. “John? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry. I was hoping I’d be able to get out on time, but…”

  But. There was always a but. Tracy closed her eyes to ward off the tears. She’d hoped John would be different.

  His sigh permeated the line. “There’s been a development in the case. I don’t think I’ll be good company tonight. I’m sorry.”