Dave grunted something unintelligible, and Greg stared out the side window. We finished the trip in silence. Only when we were safely inside, with the door closed, did I speak again. “I’m going to bed.”
~ ~ ~
Morning came far too quickly, and I downed half a pot of coffee, hoping the buzz would get me through the meeting with Park. Dave and Greg were eyeing me warily and treading softly. I squared my shoulders. It’s not their fault my father’s a murderer. “You two can stop being pussies anytime you want. We need to jump in with both feet and develop a suspect list, find this guy—or guys—and take them out of commission.”
Dave held up several sheets of paper. “Greg and I finished the reports while you were getting your beauty sleep.” He refilled his cup. “Didn’t help you much from what I can see.”
I smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You know how much I hate grunt work. And you’re so good at it.”
Greg cleared his throat. “Let’s not fight, guys.”
Dave chuckled and passed Greg the papers. “We ain’t fighting—yet. I’m driving.”
As usual, within minutes of starting off, I was weighed down by guilt. Dave knew me well enough to shrug off my moods, but Greg was looking uncomfortable in the back seat. “Dave and I really aren’t fighting, Greg. He just knows me too damn well and likes pushing my buttons.” I turned in the seat and smiled at him. “You’ll get there eventually.”
“Not sure I want to.”
Dave guffawed and turned in to the station lot. “Good call, kid. If you can’t understand them, ignore them and hope they go away.”
The mood lightened, and the three of us were back to normal by the time we took the elevator to the second floor. The scream reached my ears long before we reached the commander’s office.
“He killed my daughter!”
“That sounds interesting,” Greg said.
We picked up our pace, and none of us bothered to knock as we entered the outer office. The scene playing out stopped all three of us just inside the door. I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. Commander Park was wrestling with a tiny gray-haired woman to keep her away from the dark-haired man in front of her. She couldn’t have stood more than four foot two, and from the looks of her, she weighed less than a hundred pounds.
Park turned his glare on us. “Stop gawking and get over here!”
The older lady chose that moment to head butt the commander, and she lunged toward the man. “I’m going to prove you killed her if it’s the last thing I do.”
We rushed forward. Dave grabbed her right arm as I grabbed her left. I bit down on my bottom lip again to stifle the laughter just below the surface. “What do you want us to do with her, sir?”
“Do you want to press charges, Carson?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Wallins has been suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder since her daughter was killed last year. I worked the case. Unfortunately, the killer was never apprehended.”
“That’s because you killed her, you bastard.”
“There’s a nice little coffee shop right up the street. Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee, Mrs. Wallins? You can tell me all about it.” Dave had his arm around her waist, guiding her toward the door. If anybody could calm her down, Dave could.
“Greg and I will meet you there in a few minutes, Dave.” I waited until the door closed. “You asked to see us, sir?”
Park pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “This is Ace Carson. He’ll be working with us for the next few days. Mr. Carson is a profiler following up on a series of female murders similar to those found here.”
Carson stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Lang. I’ve heard a lot about you and your partners.”
I gripped the hand briefly. The urge to dash to the bathroom and run scalding water over my skin washed over me. Something about Carson immediately set off red flags. Something more than Mrs. Wallins’s accusations. Take your blessings where you find them. At least Myriah hasn’t told Park about the note yet. “Profiler? Are you with the FBI?”
Carson smiled, showing even white teeth, but I noted the coolness of his dark-blue eyes. “I was. I took a leave of absence to continue working on this case. Mrs. Wallins isn’t the only grieving mother out there.”
“How did you hear about our cases? They aren’t on the news yet.”
“Prostitutes talk. Rumors fly. I heard the rumors and came out here yesterday.”
“We’d welcome any help we can get. Do you have case files on the other murders?”
“The commander and I have a few things to discuss, and I’d like to look at your reports before we go that route. Perhaps we could get together later today, or start fresh tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow would be best. We have a few leads we need to follow up on today.”
“Such as?”
I met his gaze and shrugged. “I’d like to see how they pan out before we go that route.”
His laugh was deep throated. “I can see we’re going to get along just fine.” He passed me a card. “Send me a report tonight with whatever you find today. Like you, I don’t sleep a lot.”
“And how would you know how I sleep, Mr. Carson?” My jaw was set in a hard line, and I flexed my fingers. I don’t like this bastard.
Greg took a step closer to me as Carson grinned. “I’m a profiler, Detective Lang. The circles under your eyes, for one. You keep your hair short because you like to jump in and out of the shower and take off at a moment’s notice. Even if you are asleep, you’re still vigilant for noises. You answer your phone on the first ring.” His eyes raked over my black jacket, white blouse open at the top, and jeans tucked into my boots. “You’re confident and don’t need a lot of frills or fancy clothes to make you stand out in a crowd.” He glanced at Greg. “Your partners respect, admire, and trust you with their lives. Would you like more?”
What I’d like is to knock those pearly whites down your throat. “No, I think you’ve covered it.” I turned my back on him. “If there’s nothing else, Commander?”
“Get on with it.”
“I hope your reports are complete, Kacy. I’d like to deliver my profile during briefing tomorrow.” My Christian name rolling off Carson’s tongue was as creepy as Keisha’s laugh, and it evoked the same internal reaction. Evil.
CHAPTER TEN
“Where to?” Greg asked, his long legs keeping up with my heated stride.
“We’ll join Dave at the coffee shop. I want to hear what Mrs. Wallins has to say. Ace Carson just went to the top of my suspect list.”
“I can have Derek check him out when I call.”
I shot him a smile and slowed my pace. “Dave is right about one thing—you’re one smart cookie.”
Greg laughed. “So you don’t think I’m cute?”
“I really hadn’t given it any thought.” I wracked my brain to change the subject, mentally kicking myself for falling into another self-made trap. “Have Derek check into murders similar to ours too. That way, we can compare what he gives us to what Carson sends. I don’t like the guy, and I don’t trust him.”
“Are you sure it’s not because he’s a profiler? He did nail you pretty close.”
I jerked open the door to the coffee shop. “I’m an open book. Anyone could profile me.”
“I couldn’t.”
Dave glanced up and waved us over. “Mrs. Wallins, my partners, Detective Kacy Lang and Detective Greg Stevens.”
The older lady smiled and swiped her eyes with a napkin. “Nice to meet you. I’ve been blubbering all over poor Dave.” Her lips trembled, and her hands shook as she reached for the coffee cup. “Don’t expect none of you to believe me, but that man killed my daughter.”
“Dave, why don’t you take Greg back to his car and let him get started on checking into Sicily’s time at the university. You can talk with your CIs and see if there’s any new word on the streets. Once you’re done, pick me up here, and we’ll call on the ME.”
I smiled at Mrs. Wallins. “If you wouldn’t mind, I have a few questions for you as soon as I grab a cup of coffee.”
“I’m not going anywhere until that man is behind bars or buried.”
I walked Dave and Greg to the door and stopped at the counter long enough to order a coffee. “What do you think, Dave?”
“She’s pretty convincing. Was Ace Carson the guy in the office?”
“Yeah, a profiler he says. Greg is gonna check him out with Derek.” I glanced at Mrs. Wallins. “I don’t like him, and like I told Greg, he’s on the top of my suspect list.”
“Fits in with what she told me. Trouble is Carson has an air-tight alibi. Her daughter was killed in Massachusetts, and the night she was killed, Carson was investigating a murder in Washington.”
“I always suspect perfect alibis. Forty-five minutes long enough?” I glanced at my new watch and smiled. “This thing has an alarm on it.”
Dave groaned. “I’ll be back.”
I didn’t like splitting up. We were more efficient as a team, but this case needed to be solved quickly. And the sooner we shut it down, the sooner I get to wipe that smile off Carson’s face.
Holding up a coffee cup and canister, the waitress raised an eyebrow. I motioned her to the table in the back occupied by Mrs. Wallins. We walked to the table together, my thoughts in their normal chaotic state. It would be hard, if not impossible, for Carson to fake being in Washington on a case. His witnesses would be other FBI agents and local police officers. I took the seat Dave had vacated, and the waitress poured my coffee then refilled Mrs. Wallins’s cup.
“Thank you.”
“Call out if you need anything else.”
“We will.” I studied Mrs. Wallins as I took my first sip. Thomas Redwine had said warriors came in all shapes, sizes, and genders. The fire in her eyes told me she was a warrior where her daughter was concerned, and she wasn’t about to quit until the man responsible was convicted or dead. “I don’t want to ask you the same questions my partner did. He can fill me in on that later. Tell me about your daughter.”
It didn’t take a profiler to see the deep love this woman held for her child.
Her face softened, her eyes gentled, and there was reverence in her voice. “Mannie was an angel. Beautiful, but kindhearted. There wasn’t a needy person, child, or animal out there suffering that she didn’t do everything in her power to help.” A single tear hung from thinning gray eyelashes. “She was a model. Would have been famous someday.” The tear fell, a silent drop in the murky dark liquid of her cup. “If that bastard hadn’t killed her.”
I pulled a notepad from my purse and jotted down model. “Were there any other girls killed around the same time as your daughter?”
Mrs. Wallins nodded. “Three other girls. I begged Mannie to be careful.”
“What made you think your daughter might be in danger?”
“Why, they could have been sisters. All the girls were blond, and all worked for the Melish Modeling Agency.”
“All four girls were models?”
Mrs. Wallins nodded again, seemingly unable to find her voice. I jotted down blond. Sicily had been blond too, and if the hair in the apartment belonged to Emily, she was also blond. I hated asking the next question. We could get the files on the murders, but asking would save time. “Was there anything strange about the way the girls were killed?”
“Strange?” She blinked rapidly. “The paper made it out to be some kind of cult killings. Pentagrams and satanic rituals. The bastard burned a cross into their foreheads. That strange enough for you?”
Satanic and Christian. I sipped my coffee as the familiar frozen hand gripped my intestines.
“He killed those detectives too and those other girls in Louisiana.”
The hand spread its icy fingers open wide, and I shivered. “What detectives?”
“Both cases had a female detective investigating, and both of them were killed.” She sipped her coffee and leveled me with an obsidian gaze. “They didn’t connect the cases, but I did. You’d best be careful, honey. Once he’s done here, he’ll come looking for you.”
“It’s time to dance with the devil, Kacy.” The shiver became an uncontrollable tremble, and coffee sloshed onto the table as my feet turned ice cold and numb. What if the detectives were the main target all along, and the girls were just bait to draw them out? Dave’s demon theory suddenly took on new meaning, and Redwine’s words echoed inside my head. “The Baykok only preys on warriors.” I glanced over my shoulder, mentally wishing Dave would walk through the door. We wouldn’t be splitting up again.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Wallins reached across the table and covered my hands with hers. “I’ve upset you. Didn’t mean to, but I felt you should know. Don’t you fall for his good looks, charm, and that smile. He’s an evil man and a murderer.”
“You seem positive that Ace Carson killed your daughter, Mrs. Wallins. Was he dating her?”
“Please, call me Greta. Mannie didn’t have time for dating. She was too busy developing her career and helping out with charities. Worked the animal rescue circuit too.”
“Then how can you be so sure?”
“Because I seen him with my own eyes.” She sniffled and swiped the tears away. “I may be old, but my eyesight is still good. It was late, and I’d gotten worried, so I was watching for her through the upstairs window. She came down the walk, and he jumped out of a car parked on the curb. Only took a few seconds. He slapped something white over her mouth and shoved her in the back seat. By the time I made it downstairs, they were gone.” Her shoulders slumped, but her eyes were flashing as she raised her head and met my gaze. “I told the police. Worked with their artist and gave them a picture. I know what I seen, Detective Lang. That man kidnapped and killed my daughter.”
The door opened, and Dave sauntered in. “Sometimes what seems impossible turns out to be possible, Mrs.—Greta. I believe you, and I’ll be keeping an eye on Ace Carson. If he killed your daughter, I’ll find the proof.”
A beautiful smile lit up her face, and she rose. “I do believe you will, Detective Lang. I’m staying at the Carlisle, Room 314. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Dave raised an eyebrow as Mrs. Wallins hugged him before walking proudly toward the door, her shoulders raised, back straight, and a spring in her step that hadn’t been there before. “What did you say to her?”
I gulped the rest of my coffee and dropped a ten on the table. “That we’d find the proof Ace Carson killed her daughter.”
Dave scratched his head and followed me out. “How are we gonna do that?”
I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. “Good old-fashioned police work.” I shot him a grin. “Let’s go see Myriah, then we’ll meet up with Greg and do some research. We’ve got some serious talking to do.”
“You gonna feed me first?”
“First rate. Isn’t Monday roast beef at Arlene’s?”
“That’s Tuesday. Today’s spaghetti and meatballs. Besides, it’s breakfast time.”
“I’m up for anything but pancakes.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My phone rang a block from the morgue. “It’s Myriah.” I hit the speaker button and answered. “Dave and I are headed your way, Myriah. What’s up?”
“That’s why I was calling. I wanted to save you a trip. Matt’s wife went into labor, and he had to leave. I won’t have anything for you until tomorrow.”
“Keep us posted, especially about the cause of death.”
“Will do.”
“You want to give Greg a call and see if he wants to join us?” Dave whipped into a parking spot in front of Arlene’s and grinned. “He always answers your calls on the first ring.”
“Give it a break, Dave. Even if I was interested in Greg—which I’m not—I’d never act on it because you wouldn’t let me live it down.” I made the call, left a message, and opened my door. “Your constant teasing is getting old.”
Dave exited and caught up with me. “All jokes aside, we should check on him. It’s not like Greg to ignore a call.”
“We’ll give him a few minutes and try again. If they gave him a hard time about revealing her classes, it will take him a while.” This case was getting to Dave, and I didn’t want to fall into his paranoia. I had enough of my own. I shouldn’t have sent Greg off by himself. My phone dinged with a text. “He’s on his way, worrywart.”
Dave grumbled under his breath, and I grabbed the door before he could. “You need to eat. You’re beginning to remind me of that commercial where the guy has to eat a candy bar to be himself.”
“Yeah, this demon thing has me all twisted up inside.”
Dave’s religious beliefs had never been an issue between us. I admired his devotion, and he accepted my skepticism. It was hard to believe in a higher being that tolerated so much suffering in the world. “I’m not discounting that idea yet.”
Arlene smiled and waved us to a table in the back.
Dave raised an eyebrow and pulled out my chair. “You?”
I laughed and took my seat. “I’m open-minded. Do we want to order, or wait for Greg?”
Arlene placed two coffee cups on the table and filled them. “Usual?”
Dave nodded. “Breakfast. Kid can eat when he gets here. I’m starved.”
My phone rang, and I grimaced as I dug it out of my pocket. Not bothering to check the ID, I answered, “Lang.”
“Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Emily’s liver wasn’t removed.”
“Thanks, Myriah.” I stored my phone. “Wish I could turn the damn thing off.”
Arlene set two heaping plates and glasses of water in front of us. “Anything else?”
I shook my head. “Greg will be here shortly, but I don’t know what he’ll want, so we’ll let him order for himself.” I turned my attention back to Dave. “I’d like to talk with Redwine again and get his take on the second scene. Myriah says Emily’s liver was still intact, so your theory on two killers may be right. I also want to look up the murders in Massachusetts and Louisiana Mrs. Wallins told me about.” I noticed Dave wasn’t digging in with his normal gusto. “You okay?”
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