“Just waiting for the hammer to fall with another body call.”
I searched for something humorous to come back with, but for once, nothing seemed funny. I breathed a sigh of relief when Greg came through the door. “Maybe our partner came up with something useful.”
I waited until he’d taken his seat and Arlene had set him up with coffee and taken his order. “What’d you find out at the university?”
“Sicily was taking one class in criminal law. I talked with her professor and a few of the students. She didn’t really hang out with the college crowd, and no one remembers seeing her with anyone.”
“Damn. What about the professor? Young? Old? Good-looking?”
“Old, ugly, boring, and already married.”
I bit into a piece of bacon and chewed. “Were you able to get in touch with Derek?”
Greg shook his head. “He’s undercover and can’t be reached. I didn’t want to ask anyone else about Carson without talking to you two first.”
“Good call, kid.” Dave took a sip of coffee and wiped his mouth on the napkin. “Until we find out more about the guy, best not to let him know he’s a suspect.”
Dave hadn’t met Carson yet, but the fact he was willing to trust my judgment and put him on the suspect list was a huge buoy to my confidence. “Any fresh rumors on the street, Dave?”
Dave shook his head. “Nothing yet.”
“Mrs. Wallins gave me a lot of information, but it all needs to be checked out and verified.” I glanced at Dave, choosing my words carefully. “Did she tell you there was a female detective killed after her daughter’s death?”
“No, she mostly just talked about her daughter.” Dave frowned and pushed his plate away. “That news should have gone out to every station, and if it had, we would have remembered it.”
“I don’t think they connected the detectives’ deaths to the murders.”
“Detectives?” Greg asked. “You mean as in more than one?”
“That was the way I took it. Her words were something along the line of ‘he killed those other girls, too, and the female detectives working the cases.’”
Dave’s face flushed, and he jerked his plate back in front of him and dug in. I bit my lip to hide my smile. A pissed-off Dave was brilliant, and the idea someone was killing female detectives put me directly in the limelight and raised the bar. “I think Dave’s theory is right. We have two killers. The first one is our serial killer, but for the second one, the detectives are his real target. Redwine did say the Baykok only preyed on warriors.”
“We’re meeting with Park and getting some extra protection for you, and I don’t want no argument.”
“The proper way to say that is ‘I don’t want any argument.’” I took a bite of scrambled eggs. “I think the three of us are safe as long as we stick together, and my house is more comfortable than yours.”
“Your house, my house, Greg’s house—I don’t give a shit. We’re not splitting up again until we catch this son of a bitch.”
“That’s twice in two days, Dave. You’re going to have to do a lot of praying tonight.”
“Done started, and if you two are smart, you’ll do a little yourself.”
I glanced at my watch. “I’ll give Redwine a call and see if he has time to meet with us. Maybe he has some literature on this Baykok character by now.”
~ ~ ~
Unlike our earlier visit, the Native American Center was fully staffed. A smiling young woman greeted us. “May I help you?”
“Detective Kacy Lang, Detective Capello, and Detective Stevens to see Mr. Redwine. He’s expecting us.”
Her smile faltered. “Please, follow me.” She led us down a different hallway to a conference room door. “Would you like something to drink?”
“We’re fine, thank you.”
Opening the door, she stepped aside. “Please have a seat. I will let Thomas know you are here.”
The room was huge, but the table in the center took up most of the area. “They must use this for board meetings.” I pulled out a chair near the end. “We could use one of these at the station.”
Dave took the seat beside me, and Greg moved around the table to the opposite side. “Can’t believe I’ve lived here most of my life and never visited this place.”
“Their powwows are awesome. You should attend one of those.” I glanced at my watch. “Is time passing quicker these days, or is it just me? I could swear it’s still morning, but according to my new watch, it’s three in the afternoon.”
“Thumb twiddling.” Dave rolled away from the table.
“What the hell is thumb twiddling?” I reached out and pulled his chair back to the table. “And stop rolling around in your chair like a kid.”
“Thumb twiddling is when you’re going full blast but getting nowhere. You gotta admit we’ve done nothing but run, answer calls, and twiddle our thumbs for two days now. We’ve got a lot of theories, but we’re no closer to finding answers than we were when we climbed back down that hill.”
The door opened, and Redwine entered, saving me from having to admit Dave was right. I stood and offered my hand. “Thank you for seeing us again, Mr. Redwine.”
“As I said, anything I can do to help, Detective Lang.” He took his seat at the head of the table. “I understand you have another body?”
I opened my phone and pulled up the pictures. “And again, part of the ritual appears to be Native American and part Christianity.”
Redwine was shaking his head as he flipped through the pictures. “Your killer is crossing cultures.” He passed back the phone. “The bowls of food are simple, as death rituals focused on providing the spirit with the things it needs on its journey. Most tribes would leave at least offerings of food. The feathers are somewhat troubling, as different types have different meanings and each tribe had their own distinct followings. The only thing I can tell you about those is the color is white, which was used for peace or purification purposes.”
“What about the shaved head and hooks? Do they have any significance in your culture?”
“Perhaps, but even more confusing. The shaving of the head could be part of the purification process, and the hooks, by stretching the imagination somewhat, a part of the Sun Dance practiced by the Sioux, Cheyenne, Crow, and many other tribal nations. It’s basically a ritual of sacrifice by one individual for the welfare of the tribe, friends, and family. The piercing of the flesh is uncommon today, so the hooks may have some other meaning. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you, although I can tell you this.” He paused for emphasis. “The mutilation is not the work of the Baykok. Is it possible you have two killers?”
I nodded. “We’re looking at the scenes with that as a possibility.” I located a picture of Worthington. “Would five arrows to the chest have any significance?” I passed him the phone.
“Some would tell you yes, but then people like to associate meanings with symbols. Five arrows would be seen as a bundle of arrows. Signifying strength, as a single arrow may be broken, but a bundle cannot be broken easily. I would not grant much significance to this if I were you. I think your killer is merely using it to once again point the finger at our people.”
“Thank you, Mr. Redwine. Dave, Greg, any questions?”
“Did you find any literature on this Baykok demon?” Dave asked. “Something that might give us an indication of what type of person would use that methodology?”
“I did some research online. The myth states the Baykok was once a human warrior who died a dishonorable or shameful death after committing an evil crime. They cannot rest, as their bones were scattered or thrown into bodies of water to prevent them from moving into the afterlife.”
“Jesus…” Dave ran a hand over his face. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”
“You must read between the myth, Detective Capello. The person you are looking for has the desire to be an honorable man, but things from his past have left him feeling dishonor and shame. Either he cannot
rid himself of the shameful acts or deeds of his early beginnings—and therefore cannot move into his rightful place of honor—or he has turned his hate to others who fight for an honorable cause and wishes to dishonor them.”
I pushed back my chair and rose. “I think you just hit the nail on the head, Mr. Redwine. You don’t have to walk us out; we’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“Again, Detective, anything I can do to help.”
We made our way out of the center and back to the car in silence.
“Where to?” Dave asked.
“Let’s pick up Greg’s car and head to my house. We’ve got a lot of research to do.”
“Shouldn’t we check in at the station before we go home?” Greg asked.
Dave guffawed.
I grinned. “You’re thinking like a regular detective, Greg. Park stopped trying to keep us in line a long time ago. As long as our stats are good, he leaves us alone and lets us do our thing. That’s why Arlene’s has been our office for the past several years.” I glanced at Dave. “Well, that and Dave’s bottomless stomach has to be fed regularly for his brain to operate.”
“Wouldn’t hurt you to put on a few pounds,” Dave grumbled. “How are you ever gonna catch a man looking like a beanpole?”
He was digging at me again, but I refused to take the bait and steered the conversation back to the case. “There wasn’t a body today, unless he hid it, which means there will probably be one tomorrow. Park has extra officers patrolling the streets at night, but we need to figure out what happened in Louisiana and Massachusetts so we’re ready for the next one. We don’t know how long he had Emily before he killed her, but according to Myriah, Sicily and Emma were killed within a day of each other. I’d like to know if he followed the same pattern with the other murders.”
Dave parked in front of Arlene’s. “Want to order something to go?”
“Don’t.” Greg opened his door. “I’ll cook tonight. I make a mean steak and baked potato.”
“Smart, cute, and talented. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Lang.”
Dave was still laughing when Greg slammed the door and walked away. “Teasing me is okay, but you’re making Greg uncomfortable too, you know.”
“Nah, the boy just needs a little encouragement. You can run away as long as you like, but the truth is the two of you were made for each other.”
I turned to stare out the window. “Stick to detective work, Capello. You suck as a matchmaker.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ginger was pacing my small front porch, chain-smoking and tossing butts into the flower bed, when Dave parked in the driveway.
“Good thing we came home early. She keeps tossing those butts like that, she’s gonna burn the place down.”
“Something must be wrong.” I unhooked my seat belt and hopped out. “Ginger, what are you doing here?”
“He’s a cop.” Ginger took a long drag from the cigarette before throwing it after the others, her hazel eyes glaring at me.
“Let’s take this inside.” Dave unlocked the door, his eyes scanning the area around us. “Coming here was a stupid thing to do.”
“Well, color me stupid then.” Ginger sashayed across the threshold, hips swaying. “Should have known you’d change your tune as soon as you found out it was one of your own.”
“No one is changing anything.” I guided her toward the kitchen. “What Dave meant is if it really is a fellow officer, then coming here put you in danger.” I emptied the morning coffee and started a fresh pot. Waving Ginger to a chair, I sat down. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Can I smoke?”
“Not in the house.”
She pulled a face before flopping in the nearest chair. “I was talking to the girls on Seventh Street last night. One of them said they saw a man grab a woman outside the Carlisle. She started to scream for a cop, but then one walked up to the guy and patted him on the back.”
“You sure it wasn’t an arrest?”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “Not unless you’ve started using chloroform during your arrests. And this girl wasn’t no hooker.”
“If it happened last night, what took you so long to report it?” Dave poured three cups of coffee and brought them to the table.
“Making a living, asshole. I take cream and sugar.” She glanced around the kitchen. “You got anything to eat?”
Dave placed the cream and sugar on the table before tossing me a pen and notepad. “I’ll fix you a sandwich. This hooker you talked to have a name?”
“They call her Cotton.” Ginger poured in three huge scoops of sugar and topped it off with milk. “She won’t talk to you, though.” She blew on the coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. “Now that they know it’s a cop, ain’t nobody gonna talk to you.”
“We’re going to need a description of the woman and the men who took her.” I nibbled on the end of the pen. I hated the word hooker, and prostitute didn’t sound much better. “What makes Cotton think the woman wasn’t a working girl?”
Ginger snorted and reached for the sandwich Dave was holding. “Posh hair, tapered nails, and dressed like a school marm.” She took a huge bite and chewed. “That ain’t how you get tricks in this town.”
I glanced at Dave, wary of my next question. We risked our lives every day, but putting a civilian in the line of danger was a last resort. “Ginger, we really need a description of the police officer and the guy he’s working with. We can check with the motel for missing guests, but if Cotton saw these guys, she’s our best source for taking them off the streets. Do you think you could get her to come in?”
Ginger shook her head. “Scared the bejesus out of her. She headed for the bus station and a one-way ticket out of town.”
“Fat lot of good any of this does us now then.” Dave shoved his chair back and stomped out of the room. “I’ll check with the Carlisle. At least we’ll have the name of our next victim.”
“How do you work with that jerk?” Ginger licked sauce from her fingers and shrugged. “I got a plan if you want to hear it.”
My stomach clenched. Mrs. Wallins had said she was staying at the Carlisle. “This woman, how old was she?”
“Not old. Hard to tell the way she was dressed. Twenties, maybe thirties.”
Relief flooded through me, along with a pang of guilt. Even though it wasn’t Mrs. Wallins, it was a young woman, and unless we found her, she would endure horrific torture in the next few hours. If she isn’t already dead. “You mentioned a plan?”
“Seventh ain’t my area. The girls there can get pretty hostile with interlopers, but I could cruise it a few nights. See if these guys turn up again. Need a Taser and a new cell phone for taking pictures.” She met my gaze across the table. “And a few hundred bucks since I’ll be losing business.”
“Too dangerous. We’ll have to come up with something else.”
Dave came back into the room as Ginger stood up, running her hands down her hips to smooth the mini over her shapely thighs. “Used the last of my money on the cab getting here. Think you can talk Chubby into giving me a ride downtown?”
The front door opened, and Greg walked in, carrying bags of groceries.
Ginger’s face lit up with a beaming smile that exuded sex appeal. “Forget Chubby, I’d rather go with the cute one.”
Greg raised an eyebrow, and I shook my head. “Any luck with the Carlisle, Dave?”
“No reports of anyone missing, and they can’t give us anything else without a court order. We don’t have any proof she was even staying there.”
“What’s going on?” Greg asked.
“One of the girls downtown saw a man grab a woman outside the Carlisle. She also saw a police officer walk up and pat him on the back.”
“Carson?” Greg placed the groceries on the counter. “About time we got a break.”
Ginger popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed loudly. “Who’s Carson?”
“Nobody.” I pushed my chair back with a s
igh. “Come on, Dave, we’ll take Ginger downtown while Greg cooks.”
“I’m parked behind you.” Greg tossed Dave his keys.
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