I waited until the murmurs stopped and I had their complete attention. Holding up the picture of Janice Stacy, I continued. “We received a tip that a young woman was abducted outside the Carlisle two days ago. Her name is Janice Stacy. She’s from Massachusetts, and her mother was one of the detectives murdered. If anyone has seen her or has any information, please contact us immediately.”
“If he’s killing the female detectives, does that mean your life is in danger, Detective Lang?” Denver Meadows held out his microphone, a shitty grin on his face.
The bastard probably hopes so. I gave him a reality check, which turned his face pale, and the hand holding the microphone shook. “No more than yours, Mr. Meadows, if you know who sent you those files.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“We’re supposed to keep the media on our side, Lang.”
Park had followed me from the room, and Dave was waiting near the elevators. “He’s a creep, and we’re better off if he steers clear of us.” I walked slowly toward Dave, waiting for the axe to fall.
“When were you two going to tell me about the detectives killed?”
“Mrs. Wallins told me about it, but we only confirmed the murders last night. We’ve been a little busy, sir.”
Park remained quiet until we reached the elevators. “What can I do to help?”
Dave’s mouth fell open, and he stared first at Park then at me. “Carson never gave us the files from Massachusetts or Louisiana. If you could get those, it would help a lot. All we have are the newspaper articles.”
Park punched the up button. “You both look dead on your feet. Go home, get some sleep, and then hit the streets in the morning and find Janice Stacy.”
“Sir?”
Park turned, sticking one foot inside the elevator to keep the door open. “Something else, Detective Lang?”
“Yes, sir. Be careful.” I hooked my arm through Dave’s and headed to the front doors. “Sleep sounds like heaven.”
~ ~ ~
It was after nine when Dave and I finally made it home. The only bright spot in my day was Greg’s car in the driveway and lights on in the kitchen. “Looks like Greg cut his vacation short.”
Dave shook his head, reached for his Glock, and hopped out of his seat. “Greg didn’t take his car.”
“This living in fear shit is getting old.” I ran after him, gun in hand. “How do you know Greg didn’t take his car?”
“He flew out this morning with Marcone.” Dave motioned me to the left as he made his way around the right side of the house.
The front door opened, and Fabian Marcone stood silhouetted in the light. He smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I holstered my gun but didn’t return his smile. “Why the hell didn’t you call and let us know you were here? We could have killed you.”
Dave joined me on the steps. “That was stupid, Marcone. Where’s Greg?”
Dark eyes surveyed the area around us. “Let’s talk about that over a cup of coffee. You two look like you could use one.”
I followed him to the kitchen while Dave locked the front door. “You didn’t answer Dave’s question. Where is Greg?”
“Following up on some information we discovered in Massachusetts.” He poured three cups of coffee and placed two on the table. “You were right about the detectives. Both had their livers removed.”
The information didn’t make me feel any better, nor did it make the coffee more appealing. “So did Sicily James. The bastard cut it up and fried it, then left it in the kitchen of the house he crucified her roommate in.”
Dave came in and flopped in a chair. “If I did like liver, I’d never eat another bite. What else did you find out?”
“Carson was adopted at birth. That’s what Greg is looking into.” Fabian pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Dave. “I think Greg’s right, and somewhere out there, he has a twin, or at least a brother.” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “And I think the two of them found each other in Massachusetts.”
“How did you find out he was adopted? Those records are sealed.” I finally reached for the coffee as what remaining energy I had left seeped out the soles of my feet. “And why didn’t the police look into that when Mrs. Wallins accused him of murdering her daughter?”
“Someone did.” He met my gaze, his eyes dark and mysterious. “Detective Angela Stacy.”
“What put Kacy on his radar?” Dave finished his coffee and rose to refill his cup. “And how the hell does he know about Kyle’s death, including the information that wasn’t in the report?”
Fabian leaned back in his chair. “That’s what we need to find out. Who did you talk to that would know those details?”
“No one, except Dave and Greg.”
“Charles and Melanie Wilson knew.” Dave took his seat. “But they wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“Maybe we do need to talk to Breverton Foster. Everything except the safe house where we stashed Simon would be in some report and not that hard to find. The only other person who knew about that was the cab driver. I don’t think we ever told Charles and Melanie where we left him.” I glanced at Dave and smiled. “We both would have had our asses kicked if Park had found out we’d used the safe house.”
“What about your shrink?” Dave raised an eyebrow. “You still seeing him?”
Damn those spiders down my spine. The itch was intolerable, and I rubbed my back against the chair. “Not since Kyle’s death, but we all had to talk to the department shrink before Park let us come back.”
“Well, I didn’t tell him.” Dave glared at me. “And don’t go blaming Greg. He didn’t know about Simon.”
“I’m not blaming anyone.” I wracked my brain, trying to remember what I had told the psychiatrist. Most of his questions were about how I felt or how things made me feel. I had talked about Simon and my guilt over his death. “Maybe I mentioned it, but psychiatrists’ records are private. Even Carson wouldn’t be allowed to see those.”
“Why don’t you two get some sleep?” Fabian pushed back his chair. “I’ll stand guard tonight.”
“I don’t think we really need a guard, but I know someone who might.”
“Who?” Dave scratched his head and yawned.
“Mrs. Wallins. If Carson is one of the killers and he’s planning on leaving, he may decide to end his problem with her here. Easy enough, older lady killed in a robbery. It’s not an unusual crime in Chicago.”
Fabian nodded. “Greg mentioned that, so I have someone at the motel, keeping an eye on her.” He gave me one of those placating smiles. “And before you ask, there’s also someone watching Ginger.”
“Oh.” I lowered my gaze to the empty cup, afraid my eyes would reveal more than I wanted to share. “I guess we’ve got everything covered then.”
The tension in the room was palpable, and Dave glanced from Marcone to me. “Bed sounds good. Good night.”
The silence was broken only by the spare-room door closing. An uncomfortable silence. One I wasn’t used to.
“Why don’t you ask me?”
“Ask you what?”
“If I killed Combs and Williams.”
“Did you?”
“Look at me, Kacy.”
“All right.” I raised my head. “But it’s easier to believe your lies if I don’t see the truth in your eyes.”
“I didn’t kill them.” His eyes were locked on mine. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”
“Did you kill Lenglases?”
“No, but I encouraged him to take matters into his own hands. Someone wanted him dead, and it would have been a painful death. He chose an easier way out.”
“The killer knows my real birth date. Up until six months ago, I didn’t know my real birth date. How do you explain that?”
“Carson is FBI. He may have talked to Derek or someone else in the Bureau. The information about your real parents could be in a Bureau file.”
I wanted to slap myself for not thinking
of that. I owed my father an apology, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t what he wanted. What he really wanted was to protect me and keep me safe. The same thing I want for him, and I can’t do that if he stays here.
“I need you to leave. I know you just want to protect me, but your being here is actually putting me in more danger.” I chewed on my lower lip, trying to find the words that would explain. “I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about the people I care about. I don’t want to lose you or Yoshe.”
The darkness in his eyes softened, and the barest hint of a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Charles and Melanie are taking Yoshe on a trip. They didn’t tell me where, and I didn’t ask.” He reached across the table and covered my trembling hand with his. “I lost Kyle because I wasn’t here to save him. Losing you would be more than I could bear.”
“Looks like we’re at an impasse, so what now?”
“We work together to find these guys.” He removed his hand, stood, and refilled his cup. “I’ve decided to move to Chicago. I want to be here to watch my granddaughter grow up.” Staring out the kitchen window, he squared his shoulders. “And I want to be a part of your life, Kacy. If you’ll let me.”
Fear clutched at me like the long talons of the Baykok. He hadn’t asked a question, but he was waiting for an answer. I just didn’t have one. “I need to get some sleep. Good night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
For once, Dave looked as bad as I did the next morning. “I called the station. No calls came in related to Janice Stacy. I was really hoping someone had seen her.” Mrs. Wallins’s revelation of the missing woman’s identity gave us little hope of finding her alive.
Dave remained silent.
“Hard to believe it’s just Wednesday.” I shook out my umbrella before tossing it in the back seat. “Maybe with the rain pouring down, crime will be on the light side today.”
“Doubt that.”
My dreams had been filled with wild scenes of running through the dark and stumbling over dead bodies. Not unusual, as it pretty much summed up how I felt. I checked out Dave’s profile from my peripheral vision. His silence was unusual. That probably meant trouble.
Marcone had left before my alarm went off, leaving a fresh pot of coffee and a note saying he would be back later. “I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but we need to talk to Park, Dave. Tell him everything and that we think Carson is a killer. He stood behind us after Simon’s death, and he asked what he could do to help. Maybe we’re misjudging him.”
“How do we get rid of Carson? Park said he would be back today.”
“Maybe he won’t be there, but if he is, I’ll suggest the two of us go see Myriah. We still don’t have her report on Emily Greenwell.” I gave him a hopeful look. “Think you can convince Park we’re not crazy?”
Dave pulled into the lot and parked. “He knows we’re not crazy. The problem will be in convincing him Carson is.”
I followed his gaze as Ace Carson entered the station. The thought of spending the next few hours in his company wasn’t something I relished. “I have faith in you, partner. If anyone can do it, you can.”
Dave chuckled. “At least he won’t be saying, ‘I’m not finished, Lang’ every five seconds.”’ His brows knitted, and he turned serious. “I don’t like the idea of you going off with Carson alone. After that press conference, he has to know we’re closing in on him.”
“I don’t like it, either, but until we have proof, we need to keep him here. If he takes off, we’ll never stop him, and I don’t need more deaths on my conscience to feel guilty about.” Opening my door, I climbed out and stretched. “Let’s go.”
As I’d suspected, Carson was waiting just inside the door. “Good, you two are here. I’ll be giving my profile at briefing this morning. I hope you’ll join us.”
“We were planning on meeting with the chief. Maybe you could share it now.” Dave shrugged and smiled. “You know how it is—crime never stops.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what Dave was up to, but I could read Carson well enough to know he was ticked off. “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, Detective Capello. If you’re not interested in catching this guy, perhaps you should turn the case over to someone who is.”
“It’s really no problem, Ace. Dave can meet with the commander while I listen to the briefing. I thought perhaps the two of us could visit the ME afterwards.” I shot Dave a warning glare and subtly shook my head. I knew what he was up to, but pissing Carson off in the hopes of alienating him wasn’t going to work. The more he irritated Carson, the deeper he would dig in. “Nothing like killing two birds with one stone.”
“Odd choice of words, Kacy.” Carson smiled at me and placed a hand on my back. “Shall we?”
“I’ll check in with you before I leave, Dave.”
“Make sure you do,” Dave called over his shoulder as he stomped toward the elevator.
“Your partner seems in a bad mood this morning.”
“He always gets this way when his wife is visiting her parents. Don’t pay any attention to him. In an hour or so, he’ll be his normal happy self.”
I could tell Carson wasn’t totally convinced, and I realized I’d used the wrong analogy. Missing a woman would never put a man like Carson in a bad mood. “I can’t wait to hear your profile.”
He opened the door and waited for me to enter. “I think you’ll find it helpful. Did you bring a notepad?”
“Of course.” I reached into my purse and retrieved the small book and pen. “Do you want me to take notes?”
The hand that gripped my arm was definitely going to leave bruises. He leaned in close, his breath hot on my face. “I listened to your press conference last night. You’re proving my point of why women don’t belong in this business. Taking notes is all you’re good for.”
And the gloves are off. With a final squeeze, Carson let go of my arm and walked toward the podium, where Sergeant Flanders was waiting for him. I missed the introduction, as I was busy torturing the son of a bitch in my mind.
It wasn’t mandatory for detectives to attend morning briefings, and I hadn’t been to one in years. Most of the officers were men and women I recognized and respected. A few nodded my way as I traveled toward the back of the room, took a seat, and turned my attention back to Carson. The bastard exuded charisma as he smiled, told a joke, then launched into his profile after rehashing the recent murders.
“We’re looking for a white male in his mid-thirties. He’s quiet and reserved and only stands out in a crowd due to his muscular build and massive amount of tattoos on his body. He keeps his hair military short and will avoid eye contact.” He opened the briefcase he’d carried in. “I’ve sketched a drawing using information gathered from witnesses. Sergeant Flanders, if you’d pass these around please.”
Carson waited until Flanders had distributed the drawings. “This man is extremely dangerous. If cornered, he will fight to the death.”
I raised my hand. “Excuse me, sir.”
“You have a question, Detective Lang?”
Dave would kick my ass later if Park didn’t fire me, but since Carson had shown his true colors, it was time I showed mine. “Are you basing your profile on the current cases or the previous cases in Massachusetts and Louisiana? And were you able to finally connect the murders of the female detectives working those cases to the earlier crimes as we did?”
Carson started to speak, and I interrupted him. “I’m not finished yet, Ace. You mentioned information gathered from witnesses. When did you plan on sharing that with the Chicago Police Department and the detectives working the cases?”
Only the slight reddening around his collar gave any indication that my questions had upset him. A slight murmur went through the room.
“Are you finished now, Detective Lang?”
I shrugged and smiled. “For the moment.”
He turned back to the crowd. “Perhaps Detective Lang would like to give her profile.” He stared straight in
to my eyes. “If she has one, which I seriously doubt.”
“I’d be glad to.” I stood up and walked to the podium, never taking my eyes from his face, which was turning just a little pale. I wasn’t dumb enough to think it was fear. Rage was flowing through him like cheap wine.
Encouraged by smiles from several of the officers and a modest wink from Flanders, I stepped up to the podium and held up the picture Carson had passed around. “First, I concur with Mr. Carson that this gentleman fits the profile of our serial killer. To date, he’s targeting blond women and, in Chicago, appears to be targeting prostitutes. In Louisiana, it was nurses, and in Massachusetts, it was models. He’s killed one so far, and if he follows his previous pattern, he will kill three more before he moves on.”
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