Ginger plopped in the seat she’d just vacated. “I’m not going until you tell me who Carson is.” She blew a bubble and popped it. “Emily was my friend, and I don’t have a lot of friends.”
There was no way of dealing with the issue without making Greg feel bad. “Carson is someone we have our eye on, but he’s not a cop, so probably not the guy Cotton saw.”
She eyed me suspiciously, continuing to pop her gum. “You might as well use me. I’m gonna do this anyway.”
Grabbing my handbag, I pulled out a hundred and passed it to her. “We’ll talk about it on the way downtown. That should pay you for your time today. Let’s go.”
Dave drove, and I filled him in on Ginger’s plan. “I’ve already told her it’s too dangerous.”
“Might work, though.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Where you want off?”
“Drop me at the Carlisle. I’ve got enough now to get a room for the night.”
“Where are you staying?” I turned around to face her. “You’re not still on Fremont, are you?”
“I been crashing with a friend. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and some nice guy will take me home with him.”
Dave pulled into the parking lot for the Carlisle. “Yeah, and we’ll be looking for your body tomorrow. Give me a minute.” He went to the trunk and came back with a Taser. “You know how to use this thing?”
Ginger laughed and climbed out of the car. “Why, Chubby, I didn’t think you cared. Turn it on, point, and shoot, right?”
“Yeah, and I hate paperwork. You get yourself killed, it means I have to type reports.” Dave handed her the Taser then pulled out his billfold and passed her a couple of bills. “That should get you a cheap camera.”
I leaned across the seat. “I want you to call in every night. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll have you picked up for prostitution. Is that understood?”
“Loud and clear.” She took off toward the entrance, heels clicking on the pavement.
“It should be against the law for hips to sway like that.” I glanced at Dave and grinned as he quickly averted his eyes from the long legs strolling slowly. “You’re just a big old teddy bear. Should I slap you for Martha?”
“She don’t mind me looking.” He started the car and drove off the lot. “A man stops looking, he’s already dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m gonna have to divorce Martha and marry you if Lang don’t.” Dave patted his stomach and leaned back in the chair. Dinner had been a quiet affair, each of us lost in thought.
Greg flushed and stared at his half-eaten steak. “I know you guys haven’t said anything, but I screwed up by mentioning Carson.” He raised his head and stared at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. We should have clued you in.” I finished my salad and carried the dishes to the sink. “Since Dave is in the mood to play house and get married, he can do the dishes. I have a report to write and send to Carson.”
“Real men don’t do dishes.”
The twinkle in his gray eyes was begging for me to come back with something he could pounce on. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll do the dishes.” Greg carried his plate to the sink. “I found the news articles on the killings Mrs. Wallins mentioned in Massachusetts and Louisiana. You might want to take a look at those.” Coming back to the table, he picked up Dave’s plate and utensils, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. “I accept your proposal. Always wanted to find myself a real man.”
Cackling was unladylike, but the sight of Dave’s mouth falling open as his face flushed beet red was too much to resist. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I held my side as he rose and pushed Greg aside.
“I’ll do the damned dishes. Can’t nobody in this house take a joke?”
Greg winked at me and grinned as he finished clearing the table. “I left the articles on the end table in the living room if you want to start without us.”
“I… will…” I gasped between snorts of laughter, “as soon as I change my clothes. I think I peed myself.”
“You’re mopping the floor,” Dave called as I rushed for my bedroom.
The laughter had released a lot of the tension from the day, and I took my time, washed my face, and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. If there had ever been any doubt that Greg was the perfect partner for Dave and me, he’d just wiped it out. The image of Dave’s shocked face flashed through my mind, and I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing again. My side was hurting, and the salty tears had dried out my skin. Time to sober up and get down to business. With the exception of Kyle’s case, this was the worst one we’d faced in years.
I’d only been gone a few minutes, but Dave and Greg had managed to clean the kitchen and were both already seated with Greg’s laptop in front of them.
Dave was going through the articles. “Vampires, Satanists, and Native Americans. What’s this guy’s problem?” Dave shook his head and bit into a chocolate doughnut. “His methodology is all over the board.”
I leaned over his shoulder and quickly scanned the articles. “Nurses, models, and prostitutes. I can’t think of a thing those three have in common. Maybe it’s not the same guy.”
“Guys,” Dave corrected me. “And I’d bet next month’s pay it is.”
“We need more information.” I grabbed a notepad from the drawer then refilled my coffee. “Did you just search Massachusetts and Louisiana?”
Greg nodded. “What are you thinking?”
“Serial killers normally have a trigger that sets them off, and this guy”—I glanced at Dave and smiled—“or guys have a distinct pattern. And his rituals are too well thought out to be his first crimes. From what I’ve seen, most killers start off with a first kill and build from there.” I reached for the articles. “In both states, he chose four women from the same profession and performed the same ritual-type killing of each.”
Greg pulled up a search engine. “So what are we looking for?”
“A starting point.” I frowned, searching my mind for search ideas that might bear fruit.
“Christianity.” Dave was nodding his head. “Search for killings with a Christian connection or some type of ritual involving biblical items.”
“I wish Derek hadn’t decided to take another mission. He could do this a lot quicker.” Greg typed in items, glanced at pages, and typed again. “Do we have a timeframe we’re looking at?”
Online searches were great, but they normally brought up page after page of current events, and if our theories were correct, our killer had been at it for years. “Go back five years. We’ll start there.”
Greg continued to type and scan pages. “Forgot to tell you, I also found the detectives Mrs. Wallins mentioned. Both were killed execution style with a bullet to the head, but there’s no connection on the timing. Detective Penny Lewis in New Orleans was killed six months after the fourth body was found in Massachusetts. Detective Angela Stacy in Springfield three months later.”
“So if it is the same guy, or guys, their plans were well thought out to throw off the investigations so no one connected the killings.” I poured another cup of coffee. “I guess the good news is, if he follows his earlier methodology, we have two more bodies to go before I have to start worrying.”
Dave shook his head. “We don’t know that. If Ginger is right, he already has his third victim, and he could be considering Worthington. That makes four.”
“I talked to some of the guys at the station. Still no reports of anyone reported missing.” Greg sighed. “And I’m not finding anything useful searching this way.”
“Look up the number four, Greg, and see if it has any symbolic or religious connotation.”
Greg punched keys and shook his head. “Tons, depending on what you’re looking for and what culture you’re studying.”
Dave pushed back his chair. “The only consistency in all these murders is Christianity. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse in Revelation, sent to wreak havoc upon humanity.
”
Four killers. The thought had my gut twisting in knots. “If we’re homing in on Carson and he has an airtight alibi, maybe two killers who look alike.”
“Could be twins.” Greg said.
“Too easy, and if it were a twin, the investigation would have brought that up when Mrs. Wallins pointed the finger at Carson. Are you sure there’s no chance of contacting Derek?”
“None.”
“How about your dad?” Dave asked. “He’s got some serious connections to the underworld.”
An image of Kurt Lange flashed through my mind, his bloody head posed in the middle of my bed. “I’m not getting him involved until we know who’s behind this.”
Dave shoved his chair under the table before tossing his coffee cup in the sink. “He’s already involved. That man isn’t going anywhere as long as he thinks you’re in danger.”
“I’m in more danger from the thugs he associates with than I am from this guy. Someone out there leaked the information on my birthday.”
“I’m going to bed.” Dave glared at me.
“It’s only nine o’clock, and we still have work to do.”
“I don’t. Not until you come to your senses.”
He stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall, muttering to himself. Seconds later, the spare bedroom door slammed.
I avoided looking at Greg. “More coffee?”
“Maybe Dave’s right. It has been a tough day, and if there is another body in the morning, we’re going to need our wits about us.”
“I think the killer is waiting for something. There wasn’t a body this morning, or at least not one we found.”
“In that case, I’ll take that coffee. Run your thoughts past me, especially on this Baykok character. Maybe we’ll see something different.”
I refilled his cup and started a fresh pot. I knew Dave wasn’t really mad at me. He was frustrated that I was once again in danger and he couldn’t stop it. We aren’t being fair to Greg. He shouldn’t constantly have to ask us to fill him in. He’s proven his loyalty more than once. “Both scenes had the same reference to keeping demons away. Redwine mentioned the Baykok as being the one associated with the Ojibwe tribe and the Great Lakes area. Apparently, it kills its victim and eats their liver. But according to the legend, or myth, it only preys on warriors.”
Greg’s fingers glided across the keyboard. “Lots of demon myths in all three states. None that tie together.”
“We’ve got a great crew available if we want to use them.” I sipped my coffee. “Myriah could talk to the MEs in Massachusetts and New Orleans. They’ll probably give her more information than they would us.”
Greg jotted a note on his notepad. “You’re right about that. Professional courtesy. I do think we’re dealing with two killers. One with the murdered women and one with the detectives. If this Baykok myth is involved, then the detectives will have missing livers.”
“And Sicily’s liver was removed, but she was fighting for a cause. If the detectives’ livers were removed, that information wouldn’t have been released to the public.” I was glad Dave had gone to bed. “The victims in New Orleans were exsanguinated. What was the Christian connection there?”
“A Bible verse was placed in their mouths. Ecclesiastes 7:1: ‘A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth.’”
“Creepy.” I took another sip of coffee as my thoughts ran rampant. “Vampirism and satanic rituals seem close to the same to me, so why the change of MO here? We don’t have the ME reports yet, but Sicily didn’t appear to have any mutilation, and the meat hooks and crucifixion were gross but clearly done post death.”
Greg’s face paled, and his jaw hardened. “Dave’s right. These two are working together, and they’re both here. One of them is a cop or at least associated with law enforcement.”
“Like Carson.” I swallowed hard as frozen needles poked my feet. “I’ve always hated liver, but I’d like to keep mine a little longer.”
“You need to make that call to Marcone.”
Greg wasn’t buying into my attempts to lighten the mood. “It’s a little late tonight. Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“He’ll be here tomorrow. I called him.” Dave stood in the kitchen doorway. “Figured if I give you two enough time, you’d figure it out and get your heads out of your asses.”
“Bullshit.” I grabbed a dish towel to soak up my spilled coffee. “And what the hell are you doing, sneaking up on people?”
Dave chuckled and headed for the box of doughnuts on the counter. “Wasn’t sneaking. You just didn’t hear me.”
I glanced at his shoeless feet. “If you weren’t sneaking, why did you take your shoes off?”
“Figured the smell would put you off from eating the rest of my doughnuts.” He pulled out a chair. “So have you figured out the rest yet?”
I hadn’t, but it suddenly became perfectly clear. “Of course I did, asshole.”
Greg glanced from me to Dave. “Would one of you two care to enlighten me?”
“It goes along with what Mr. Redwine said. When you die for what you believe in, or protecting someone like Kyle and Simon did, it’s an honorable death. It’s the same if a police officer or detective dies in the line of duty.”
Greg slammed his hand on the table. “So by executing them when they were off duty, the killer was giving the detectives what he considered a dishonorable death.”
Dave nodded. “Same thing with Sicily James. He takes a prostitute, convinces her she’s more than that, and then kills her when she’s convinced it’s her wedding day.” He eyed me over his cup. “And Kacy has been his target here all along. That’s why he left the note for her and the reason for the MO change.”
“We don’t know that for sure, Dave. He could have left notes for the other detectives. In his mind, punishing them for not catching him.”
“Don’t think so.” Dave shook his head. “I don’t think they were working together until the serial killer killed the women in Massachusetts. That’s why the first detective’s murder was six months later.”
“Are we going to clue Commander Park in on this?” Greg asked.
“I vote no. He was awfully chummy with Ace Carson, and Dave and I both know how he likes to play up to what he considers bigwigs.”
Dave nodded. “Knowing there’s two of them gives us an edge. If Carson is involved, he’ll stay low key and let his buddy do the killing until the endgame.” He raised an eyebrow. “What time are we supposed to meet this jerk in the morning?”
“First thing, and I’d better have at least a minor report on what we did today.”
“Do it now.” Greg said. “Best to keep him off guard if we can. What time is Marcone supposed to be here?”
Dave shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
I located Carson’s card and composed a short email. “He has our morning reports, but should I attach the pictures we took?”
“Give him everything you’ve got on it. He’ll have it eventually anyway, and you don’t want him to think you’re holding back.” Greg rubbed the stubble on his face. “He’s a profiler, so we’ll need to be extra careful around him.”
I snorted but attached the pictures from my cell phone. “He’s a killer, and using pertinent scenes from Kyle’s death and leaving that note was his first mistake.”
Greg frowned. “How’s that?”
“You want to tell him, Dave?”
“He knew Kacy and I would associate the murders to Min Wong, Keisha, and Kyle’s death. Shake us up and have us chasing ghosts.”
I grinned. “Which is exactly what we’re going to convince Carson and Park we’re doing. We’ll rewrite our reports and lay it all on Park’s desk first thing tomorrow morning, linking it to the drug lords or Hilda.”
“I still don’t get it.” Greg sighed. “There’s the connection with the apartment complex where the victims lived and the house where the two of you hid Simon, but what about Sicil
y James? What’s the connection with leaving her on top of that hill?”
My voice trembled slightly. “I thought we told you. Min Wong buried me alive near there.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As much as I wanted to sleep, loose ends kept running through my mind. One, I simply couldn’t ignore. I headed down the hallway to the spare bedroom. “Guys, we need to talk.”
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