Dishonorable Death

by Linda S. Prather

  “A female victim nailed to a wooden cross with two large meat hooks shoved through her breasts. There were bowls of food around the foot of the cross, and her head had been shaved. A crown of white feathers was placed around her forehead, which the ME removed to reveal the number one. There was also an envelope addressed to me with a note inside.”

  “I don’t remember seeing that in your report.”

  “I guess I forgot. Or maybe I wanted to forget.”

  “What did the note say?”

  “‘A body a day keeps the demons away. It’s time to dance with the devil, Kacy.’”

  “And there’s the emotion.” He smiled and threw an arm around my shoulders. “To catch a killer like this one, you have to get inside his head and feel his emotions. Your earlier speech was delivered precisely as you remember the scene. Just facts with no emotion. When you mentioned the note, I could hear the fear in your voice.”

  Some profiler he is. That wasn’t fear, dipshit—it was rage. I counted to ten. Carson had given me an opportunity to play the victim, and if I didn’t take it, his suspicions would rise. I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Of course I was scared. It was a horrific crime scene, and the killer was basically telling me I’m next.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. You’re not a prostitute.” He walked toward the back door. “It would have taken time to erect the cross and gather the food.” He broke the crime scene tape off the back door. “Let’s go inside.”

  I missed Dave’s wit and followed him inside with an image of the Three Stooges slapping Carson playing in my head. There was a light at the end of the tunnel—rain had started, which meant we wouldn’t be able to do the second scene.

  Carson was standing in the middle of the living room, a finger poised along the side of his lips. “Would have been better if I could have seen it before everything was torn apart. Not much left to see.” He turned and smiled. “We can use the picture and discuss it over lunch. I’d like to get your opinion on the mutilation of the body.”

  “To be honest, sir, I don’t really have one yet.”

  He nodded, passed me, and headed for the back door. “The sir puts distance between us, Kacy.” He held the door and waited for me to join him. “For the time being, I’m your partner. Treat me like you would Dave or Greg.” He closed and locked the door, avoiding looking at me. “Where is Greg today?”

  The question might have been innocent enough coming from anyone else, but it had my heart thumping and my mouth filling with saliva. “I think the case upset him. He took a leave of absence.”

  Carson frowned and slipped his arm through mine. “Not much of a partner then, especially with the threat against you.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t worry, Kacy, I won’t let you dance with the devil alone.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Carson’s mood changed the moment we were belted inside the car and on the road. Gone was the doting, overly protective male. “What did Mrs. Wallins tell you?” He wasn’t just asking a question. He was conducting an interrogation.

  “She talked about her daughter. Told me she was a model with a heart of gold and would have been world famous if you hadn’t killed her.” I shifted in the seat to give myself a better view of his face and body. “She seemed quite adamant that the man she saw was you.” Right or wrong, I couldn’t help getting in one little dig. “She was very convincing. I didn’t receive your reports on those murders last night, so I don’t know what happened after her accusation or how it was proven you weren’t the killer.”

  “Not receiving my report was intentional. I didn’t want to cloud your judgment on the current case. It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing cases are connected.” He took his eyes from the road and stared at me, a strange expression on his face. “I think Dave is right and this case doesn’t have anything to do with the prior murders.”

  Crap. Either I’d overplayed the weak female role, or Carson had seen through the guise and was playing with me. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re leaving. We could use your help on this case. A copycat killer normally follows many of the routines of the original killer.”

  Carson turned in to the station lot and parked. “There wasn’t a body Sunday, or yesterday, so he’s broken the pattern of a body a day. He’s probably moved on by now.”

  “I don’t think so. Dave had a theory on that. The killer has so far used something to do with the Christian religion in both murders. Sunday is a day for Christians that symbolizes a day of rest.” I shrugged. “I don’t know that I buy into all that. As to yesterday, we should at least give it one more day and see what happens. It could be no one has found the body yet.”

  “And what about Worthington?”

  Only Greg and Dave knew we were connecting Worthington’s murder to the current case. “We don’t think he’s connected with the first two murders. A lot of people hated him, including his boss, who wanted the building empty. For reasons of his own, Worthington wanted to keep prostitutes there.”

  “You don’t think the arrows come into play with the Native American theme?” His eyes were scanning my face and body.

  Damn it, Kacy, don’t forget he’s a profiler.

  I shrugged and looked out the windshield. “As you said earlier, prostitutes talk. Whoever killed Worthington could have heard the rumors and decided to make it look like a Native American killer.” Biting my tongue would have been preferable to what I had to say next. I turned and gave him what I hoped was a wistful smile. “That’s why we need your help. To be honest, we’re not even sure the first two murders are connected. The only real link is they were roommates and both prostitutes.”

  “I’ll stay until tomorrow. If no body turns up, we can assume the killer accomplished what he set out to do here.”

  “What about the note to me?”

  Carson laughed softly. “I think he wants you to catch him, and he gave you the final clue to make the connection between your brother’s murder and this case. I’ve reviewed all the files in that case, and if I were giving the profile today, I’d tell you to take a long, hard look at Breverton Foster.” He started the car. “I have a few things to take care of. If Dave picked up the ME reports, email me a copy. I’ll look them over and get back to you.”

  Park must have taken lessons on rude dismissals from this guy. I unclipped my seat belt and opened the door. “Thanks for your help. I’ll get someone started on checking out Foster.”

  He didn’t bother answering and pulled away as soon as I closed the door. The sinking feeling in my gut confirmed Greg’s suspicions that Carson was too smart to fall for my ploy. There wouldn’t be a body tomorrow, and he would disappear, leaving me to tell Mrs. Wallins her daughter’s killer had gotten away again.

  Dave drove up beside me and motioned to the passenger door. “Boy, am I glad to see you.” I slipped into the passenger seat and buckled up. “I think I screwed up royally. What did Myriah say?”

  “She’s overworked and underappreciated. She’ll have something for us by the end of the day.” Dave pulled onto the highway. “Arlene’s? We can talk there.”

  My stomach grumbled, reminding me I’d only had one slice of bacon at breakfast. “What have you been up to while we were gone?”

  “Tracking down Emily Greenwell’s movements since she allegedly moved out of the apartment.”

  “Allegedly?”

  Dave nodded. “Talked to a few of the girls down on Cross Street. One of them said Emily left in the middle of the night with a tall man, and no one saw her after that.”

  “You think this bastard had her for a week?”

  Dave pulled up in front of Arlene’s. “I’m hoping not, but it looks that way. We’ll grab a sandwich. You can tell me how you screwed up.”

  I didn’t look forward to the grilling I was about to go through and having to admit Greg was right. “Maybe we should get a burger to go. You said Marcone was coming by later today.”

  “Carson wasn’t the pushover yo
u thought he was going to be, was he?” Dave opened his door. “I’m hungry, and I want to sit down and enjoy my meal before all hell breaks loose.”

  “I never expected him to be a pushover.” I followed Dave in and waited until our orders had been placed. “I hate to ask Park for help. We could really use Greg back on this one. Why don’t you call him?”

  Dave shook his head and slurped his drink. “You want him back, you call him.”

  “I think Carson is going to pull up stakes and run. He told me we should be looking at Breverton Foster, and if there’s no body tomorrow, he’ll be leaving.”

  Arlene delivered two heaping plates of double cheeseburgers and fries. “You two know you’re going to die of clogged arteries, right?”

  Dave chuckled and grabbed his burger. “Yeah, but what a way to go.”

  Arlene laughed and left the table, shaking her head.

  “What did you mean when you said ‘all hell breaks loose’?’” I nibbled at a fry. “And you haven’t answered my question about Marcone.”

  “Somebody leaked the news on the murders.” Dave retrieved his cell phone and punched up a video. “Pictures and all.”

  My appetite dwindled as I watched Denver Meadows deliver his newscast in front of the Native American Center. Marcone was the least of my worries at the moment. “Have you talked to Park?”

  “Been avoiding his calls.” Dave finished his burger in three bites. “Who do you think did it?”

  “It has to be Carson. He’s the only one I sent the pictures to.”

  Dave nodded thoughtfully. “Can’t figure out why he’d want to stir up hate against the Native Americans, though.”

  “He asked me about Worthington’s death. I told him we didn’t think the cases were connected. If he’s playing the part of the Baykok, it makes perfect sense he’d want to stir up suspicion against them.”

  “Since Greg’s not here, I’ll say it—you lost me.”

  “The Baykok wasn’t a fan of Native Americans. He preyed on their warriors and killed them.”

  “You think Redwine’s in danger?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a scheme to split up our forces and leave us more vulnerable. If the majority of our officers are busy breaking up fights or keeping the peace, he’s free to carry on with his original plans.” I dropped the fry I was holding and pushed away my plate. “To kill me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Avoiding Park wouldn’t be possible for long, and Dave and I sucked it up and headed for the commander’s office.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here.” Sharon expelled a long breath. “He’s been roaring like a lion for the past hour.”

  “Don’t bother announcing us.” We breezed past the secretarial station. “No need for all of us to get our butt chewed.”

  “Count to ten.” Dave gave me a lopsided grin. “If he fires us, we’ll go on vacation.”

  “He’s not going to fire us.” I opened the door without knocking.

  Park was pacing the floor and wringing his hands. “Where the hell have you two been?”

  If eyes could really shoot out flames, Dave and I would have been on fire. “Trying to catch a killer, sir.”

  Park stopped pacing and took his seat behind the desk. “You’ve made a real mess this time. I should fire the lot of you. Why in the name of all that’s holy did you think releasing the case information to the press was a good idea?” He was now gripping the edge of the desk. Any minute, he was going to rip off the top and throw it at us.

  “We didn’t release that information, sir.” I flopped on the couch and patted the seat beside me for Dave. “We have an idea who did, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “What I like and don’t like is immaterial. If you didn’t release it, then who the hell did?”

  “Carson. He’s the only one I sent the photos to.” I waited for the barrage of belittling cuss words that normally came out of the commander’s mouth when I accused someone he liked or he thought could help him politically.

  The curses never came, but what did sent a bolt of fear through me. “You look like a dead bird, Lang. Clean yourself up. We’re doing a press conference in fifteen minutes. We need to nip this in the bud before it gets out of hand.”

  I gulped a mouthful of air. “I’m no good in front of a camera, sir. Let Dave do it. Or Carson.”

  Park stood, retrieved his jacket, and slipped it on. “Carson left on personal business. He won’t be back until this evening. You’re lead detective. The public will expect to hear from you. Use my bathroom and be ready in ten minutes.”

  The door closing behind him was equivalent to the nail being driven into my coffin. Dave slipped his comb into my hand. “Had to happen sooner or later, kid. Chin up, you’ve got this.”

  “I can’t do it, Dave.”

  “Sure you can. Think about Carson and get pissed. Give them everything we’ve got, except the Baykok thing.”

  “Everything?”

  Dave smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s time we turned up the heat on that bastard. Mention the killings in other states and the fact we think the detectives’ murders were linked to them. Let him know we suspect there’s two killers.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. “Do you think you can round up a photo of Janice Stacy? Maybe someone saw the abduction but because a police officer was involved, didn’t report it. Maybe Cotton will see it and change her mind and come back.”

  “That’s the spirit. Wash your face and comb your hair. I’ll have that photo for you by the time you’re done.” Dave stopped at the door. “Don’t mention the police officer being involved. Ginger’s right about that. No one is gonna talk to us if they think one of us is involved.”

  I headed for the bathroom as soon as the door closed behind Dave. Dead bird. The image in the mirror wasn’t far from that. Lack of sleep had created huge purple circles around my eyes. I do look like a damned owl. I couldn’t totally blame Park for the predicament I was in. He had been trying to call for hours. If I’d answered my phone, I could have gone home and changed instead of a quick splash of water on my face. A glance at my watch showed it was the best I could do. Park was waiting, and the last thing I needed today was to tick him off more than I already had. I didn’t know how to take the fact he hadn’t responded to my comments about Carson. I could only hope he was keeping an open mind.

  Dave was waiting for me in the outer office with an eight-by-ten glossy of Janice Stacy. “Park’s waiting in the briefing room. Knock them dead, partner.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “Nope. I’ll watch it on the news tonight. I go down there, I’ll just make you nervous.”

  Think about Carson. I headed for the elevator, pulling up scenes from our visit to Trent. “Don’t worry, Kacy, I won’t let you dance with the devil alone.” I didn’t notice the four walls of the elevator that always seemed to close in on me, and by the time the door opened, my blood was boiling. “I’ll show that bastard emotion and exactly why women are perfect for this job.”

  The conference had already started when I opened the doors, and Park nodded my way and smiled. “I’ll turn this over to lead detective Kacy Lang. She’ll be able to answer your questions.”

  A murmur went through the crowd as I stepped up to the podium. Most reporters were aware I avoided them like they had the plague, and my normal response to any question was “no comment.”

  “Thank you, Commander Park.” I faced the crowd, doing my best to ignore the cameras. “I won’t be taking questions, but I will share with you what we know so far. As I’m sure you’re all aware, we’ve had three vicious murders in the past four days. The two women murdered were known prostitutes, and the killer has gone to great effort to leave clues pointing us in the wrong direction. I’d like to squelch any rumors that the killer is Native American.” I lowered my gaze to Denver Meadows, front and center. “Whoever released the case information and pictures to Mr. Meadows is more than likely working with the killer, or perhaps may be
the killer.”

  The murmurs grew louder, and Denver flushed a lovely shade of pink. “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I am sure, Mr. Meadows. This particular killer has been operating for some time. Similar murders have happened in Massachusetts and Louisiana. The female detectives working those cases were also murdered. In each case, he’s used different rituals involving different cultures, but they have distinct similarities. He kills four women from the same profession, all blond. Here, he’s targeting prostitutes. In Massachusetts, he targeted models, and in Louisiana, nurses. And we believe he’s taken another victim.”