Myriah climbed the steps. “I’ll go on in and take a few preliminary pictures and assess the scene. I’m looking forward to watching the two of you work your magic.”
I spit out the excess saliva in my mouth. “I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it this time. Give us a minute with Greg, and we’ll be right in.”
Greg returned, and we slipped on the footwear and gloves.
“Here’s the deal. You’re going to walk the scene. Dave and I will be taking notes and asking questions. Anything you think needs an extra look by forensics, we’ll note down.” I started up the steps. “Last thing, if you need to throw up, try to make it outside.”
The open door allowed the late-afternoon sunlight to highlight the body nailed to the huge wooden cross in the center of the living room. I watched Greg out of the corner of my eye and noted the paling of his face and the hard swallow. To give him his due, he immediately started assessing the area.
Dave pulled out his notepad and pen. “Go to it, kid.”
Greg checked the door lock. “No forced entry on the front, and according to the officers, there was no forced entry on the back, and all the windows were secured. I’d have forensics check for prints on the windows. He could have secured them after he made his entry.”
Dave glanced my way and grinned as he jotted down notes. It was a good call. “Tell us about the body.”
Greg walked around the cross. “Young female, perhaps late twenties, early thirties. Body is nude. Her head’s been shaved. She was nailed to the cross through both wrists and feet.” His unemotional, flat recital cracked, and his voice trembled. “Two huge meat hooks, one through each breast.” After a deep breath, he continued. “Crown of white feathers. Bowls of food placed around the cross, and a cup of some type of liquid.”
I took out my cell and snapped pictures of the body and bowls. “We have our Native American connection, and our Christian connection. Anything else?”
“Yeah. There’s an envelope attached to the back of the cross addressed to you. I’m going to check the rest of the house.”
I stepped closer to the body as Greg began his walk-through. Dave glanced my way, and I shook my head. I knew what Greg was going through, and time alone was exactly what he needed to pull himself together. “Do you care if I remove the feathers, Myriah?”
“Let me do it.” Myriah approached the body and gently pushed the feather crown upward until it revealed a huge red number one. “Looks like you’ve found your first victim.” She lowered the feathers, walked to the back of the cross, and removed the envelope. “I know you want to open this, but it should be dusted for prints first.”
“There won’t be any.”
Dave came to stand beside me as I took the envelope, lifted the flap, and pulled out the single sheet of paper. A body a day keeps the demons away. It’s time to dance with the devil, Kacy.
“Put it in here.” Myriah handed me an evidence bag. “It’s handwritten, so even if there aren’t any prints, he may have shed a few skin cells.”
Dave was shifting from one foot to the other like a cat on a hot tin roof. I knew he was biting his tongue to keep from saying, ‘I told you so.’
“We’ll leave you to it, Myriah, and send in forensics when they get here. Call me as soon as you have the autopsies finished.”
“I finished the first one, and we’re waiting on toxicology. Nothing more really to report. She was sexually active, but she wasn’t raped. Whoever removed her liver had medical training. It wasn’t a botch job, and the sutures were expertly placed. I’ll put a rush on this one.”
Greg came in from the kitchen, his complexion turning a light shade of green as he rushed for the front door. “He cooked something in the kitchen. I think it’s liver.”
CHAPTER SIX
Dave and I exited the house, leaving Myriah and a skeleton forensic team to finish up. Greg was near the road, hunched over, retching.
“Looks like he got it out of his system.”
“Be nice.” Dave held out his handkerchief. “You did a good job in there, kid.”
“Thanks.” Greg wiped his mouth and took several deep breaths. “Do you think that was really the girl’s liver?”
“I think it was Sicily’s. Myriah is going to test it.” Greg still looked slightly green, and I patted him on the back. “Just in case you’re feeling bad, I threw up at my first murder scene, and if Dave will be honest, he probably did too. Who’s driving?”
Dave unlocked the doors. “I’ll drive. Where to?”
“We’ll stop by the apartment complex and pick up Greg’s car, then call it a day, unless you want to stop for something to eat first?”
A gag issued from the back seat, and Dave glowered at me. “Did you have to say that?”
“No, but we both know he’s not always going to be partnered with us.” I shifted in the seat and turned to face Greg. “Someday, you’ll be in our shoes, training another detective. If you want them to survive, you’ll point out the facts—no matter what happens, you have to eat, sleep, and move on.”
Dave started the car. “You coming home with me, or do I need to sit outside your house until the commander gets someone to watch you?”
Greg cleared his throat. “I think we should all get together and go over the cases and do some research. According to the note, there’s going to be another body in the morning.”
“I agree. And we’re not going to assume anything, especially that this case is tied in with Min Wong, because that’s not possible. Keisha is dead, and Derek said they caught all the assassins working for her, including the one that buried me alive.”
“He’s using hookers. Sicily James lived in the same apartment complex as Crimson Rose, and he placed the first body in the house where we hid Simon. And if that ain’t enough, the son of a bitch left you a personal note. Two, if you count the bloody wall.”
Dave was glaring at me, his face flushed, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d said the words son of a bitch. Never. Maybe an occasional bastard when I’d really pissed him off, but never those words.
“The note said, ‘It’s time to dance with the devil, Kacy.’ If the cases were connected, he would have said again. I’ve already danced with the devil once.”
Dave snorted, jerked the car in gear, and screeched off. “You’re still coming home with me, or I’m camping out with you.”
“I agree with Dave. Whether this is connected to Min Wong or not, you’re being targeted, and you need protection. Let’s stop by the station and talk to the commander.”
“I’ll get a dog. A big one. And I don’t want to talk to the commander.” My cell rang, and the commander’s name flashed on the screen. “Damn.” Myriah must have called him. Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten before answering. “Lang.”
“I want the three of you in my office—”
“Sir—”
“I’m not finished, Lang.”
“Yes, sir.”
“First thing Monday morning with a report on my desk. If I’m not there, cool your ass until I get there.”
The line went dead, and I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket. Good going, Lang. You’ve managed to piss off Dave, get Greg’s testosterone surging, and put the commander in a bad mood.
The atmosphere in the car was somber. Thanks to my brother’s crazy sister-in-law and two crooked government agents, we’d been through hell together before. There was no doubt in my mind if the three of us stuck together, we could endure it again.
“I’ll agree it looks like he’s targeting me. If that’s true, then we need to find out why, and the best way to do that is figure out what Sicily and Emily were into. We have to go back to the apartment complex to pick up Greg’s car anyway, so if Sims is finished at the scene, we’ll talk to a few of the residents and see what they can tell us about our victims. After that, we’ll grab some takeout and go back to my house and type up the reports. We can hash out the information as we’re doing that. Okay?”
Dave nodded, and I turned to Greg, whose color was slowly turning back to normal. “You need to call Derek and see if there’s something we missed.”
“Maybe Keisha had family we don’t know about or one of her paid assassins.” Greg rubbed the tiny scar over his right eye. “It could even be that crazy bitch maid, Hilda.”
“And we can’t rule out the drug lords. We put a real dent in their profits, and Lenglases was killed. Maybe that’s why the perp is using drugs on the victims before he poses the bodies. We found a syringe with Worthington, and Myriah said there was a needle mark at the base of Sicily James’s neck.”
“I’m getting too old for this crap.” Dave weaved his way through traffic. Most of the emergency vehicles were gone, and he parked in the back. “One thing don’t make sense. If it’s connected to Kyle’s case or the drug lords, the killer should be targeting all of us, and he ain’t.”
I unclipped my seat belt. “I’m lead detective. I was lead detective then.”
“So how did he know it was your birthday?” Greg asked. “I didn’t know it was your birthday. I thought it was next month.” He flushed when I eyed him over the seat. “I checked your file.”
Dave was staring at me with his mouth gaping open. Our so-called adoptive parents, Kurt and Katherine Lange, had made up fake birth certificates for Kyle and me, listing our birthdate as July the tenth. Only after meeting my real father had I discovered that it was actually June the tenth. And the only people who know that are Dave, my father, and me.
“We need to call Marcone.” Dave jerked the keys from the ignition and opened his door. “And I don’t want no argument on it. Just as soon as we’re finished here, you’re making that call.”
“I won’t argue with you, Dave, but for now, we’re going to stay on task. Redwine said the Baykok preyed on warriors. Someone cut out Sicily’s liver, which means they thought she was a warrior. We need to find out what she was into besides prostitution. That’s where I was headed when Worthington was killed.”
“Split up or stay together?” Greg asked.
“We’ll move faster if we split up, but we think better as a team. I say we stay together. Dave?”
“You’re stuck with me until we find this bastard.”
Greg nodded as the three of us walked toward the building. “Okay. Before we go in, one of you want to tell me what a Baykok is?”
“Mythical demon in the Native American culture. Rumored to prey on warriors and remove their livers to feast on.” I glanced at Dave and smiled. “Please note I said mythical.”
“Laugh if you want to, but everything so far points to a serial killer with a fetish toward Native American culture and Christianity who wants your liver for his next meal.”
Greg shot me a glance, and I shrugged. “Humor him.”
“If he’s after Kacy, why use prostitutes?” Greg asked.
“Prostitutes are easy prey, not someone the higher-ups push to get answers on. If he’s using information from Kyle’s case, he specifically chose the hill, Trent Avenue, and this complex so I would grab the case.” The lights had been turned back on, but it didn’t alleviate the creepy feel to the first-floor hallway. “I’m taking the stairs.”
True to his word of sticking to me like glue, Dave labored up the stairs behind me. The second floor was a beehive of activity with girls rushing from room to room, carrying articles of clothing and boxes. I stopped a redhead as she headed for the stairs. “What’s going on?”
“The owner kicked us all out.” She moved to go around me. “Creep gave us twenty-four hours.”
A tall brunette was leaning against the doorframe on the opposite side of the hall, a determined glint in her hazel eyes. “I told them he couldn’t do that, but no one listens to me. He’s been trying to get the building vacant for months now. There’s only ten of us left.”
I flashed my badge. “Detective Kacy Lang, and these are my partners, Dave Capello and Greg Stevens. Could we talk to you about Sicily James and Emily Greenwell?”
“What have they done now?” She waved a hand at the open doorway. “I told Sicily she was asking for trouble, but as I said, no one ever listens to me.” She closed the door behind us and perched on the arm of the couch. “You can call me Ginger. Take a seat. I’ll tell you about Sicily if you tell me about Worthington.”
I sat in the armchair, leaving the couch for Dave and Greg. “He’s dead. What do you want to know?”
“How he died. Was it painful?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant. Someone shot him full of drugs then shoved five arrows in his chest.”
Ginger closed her eyes and sighed softly. “I wanted it to be painful. He deserved a painful death.”
Greg was scribbling notes, while Dave did his best not to sink into the plush couch cushions.
“Why did you want him to have a painful death?” I asked.
Ginger stood and walked to a window. “This used to be a decent place to live until he took over. He’d been here less than a month when the problems started. No hot water, electrical glitches, bugs and rats. Some of the girls moved out, but a few of us stayed.”
“Why didn’t you call the health department or building and codes?” Dave asked.
“Emily did. Worthington went into her room that night, raped and sodomized her.”
“Jesus.” Dave heaved himself off the couch. “Why didn’t she report it?”
Ginger lifted a shapely shoulder and let it drop. “She’s a prostitute. Who would have believed her?”
“We would have.” I brought Ginger’s attention back to me. “Worthington said Emily moved out a week ago. When did the rape happen?”
“Around the first of the month. She fell out with Worthington over the rent. Refused to pay until he fixed the problems, or she was going to report him.”
Warriors come in all shapes and sizes. “What about Sicily? Worthington told us she left three days ago to get married.”
“All I know really is what Emily told me. Sicily started taking classes at the university last month. She met someone there, a lawyer or something, and it was love at first sight, if you can believe that. She was getting married, and then she was going after Worthington. She was trying to organize the girls so her boyfriend could file a sexual harassment complaint against him. She also pushed Emily to press charges. That’s when Emily left.” Ginger walked away from the window. “If there’s nothing else, I do need to start packing.”
“Only a few more. Did you ever see the man Sicily was dating?”
“Honey, this isn’t exactly the kind of place you bring a date to.”
“Did she ever mention a name?” I asked, grasping at straws.
Ginger shook her head. “Emily might know.”
“How about the other girls?”
Ginger’s laugh was harsh. “That bunch? They don’t care about anyone but themselves. Half of them wanted to sleep with Worthington to pay the rent. You’ll be wasting your time talking to them.”
I glanced at Dave, and he nodded. “Sicily’s body was found this morning. She’d been murdered, and although the second victim hasn’t been identified, we believe we’ve also found Emily Greenwell.”
Ginger picked up a potted plant and slammed it against the wall. “I told them to back off. I knew that son of a bitch would kill them.”
“We don’t think Worthington killed them. We think the man Sicily was dating killed them, and he’s targeting prostitutes. We need your help to get the word out for the girls on the street to be careful.”
Ginger grabbed a box from the corner and started tossing things inside it. “They can take care of themselves. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m getting out of this shithole town.”
I rose, signaling for Dave and Greg to follow. “Thank you for talking to us, Ginger. You’ve been a big help.”
Her lips trembled, and mist clouded her eyes. “Are you really going to catch this son of a bitch and make him pay for what he did?”
“Yes, I am.”
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She took a shuddering breath. “Then I’m staying.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “You got a card? We hear things on the street.”
“Just be careful.” I pulled a card from my pocket and held it out. “My cell number is on there. Call if you hear anything.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sun had set, and darkness was coming on quick by the time we made our way down the stairs and through the parking lot. Greg walked with us to Dave’s car. “Are we staying at your house?”
Dave’s stomach growled, and I laughed. “Tonight, yes. First, I have to feed this bottomless pit. Have you still got a key?”
Greg nodded. “I’ll run home, grab my laptop, a change of clothes, and meet you there.”
“What do you want to eat?” I called after him.
“Anything that doesn’t have meat in it.”
Dave chuckled and unlocked the car. “Do they make food that doesn’t have meat in it? Sounds un-American to me.”
“Arlene makes a nice vegetable soup and salad. We’ll grab that for him.” I hopped in my seat and fastened my seat belt. “At least we have some clues to follow now, but most of them will have to wait until Monday. Somebody on campus should have seen the guy Sicily was hanging out with.”
Dave followed Greg out of the lot. “What about this building owner? Think we should look into him?”
“Yes, if for no other reason than he kicked those girls out without an eviction notice. Ginger was right—he can’t legally do that. Worthington told us he was renting apartments, not trying to get rid of the residents.”
“Doubt you’ll get any of them to testify against him after what happened to Sicily and Emily.” Dave took a right on Second and headed toward Arlene’s. “Worthington didn’t want the building empty. He was trading sex for rent. Won’t hurt to rough the owner up a little bit, though.”
A text message dinged, and I glanced at my phone. “Myriah just made a positive ID on our victim. It’s Emily Greenwell.”
“We may need to look at another angle on her. Maybe Worthington did kill her. The MO on the two bodies was definitely different.”
Dishonorable Death Page 4