Dishonorable Death

by Linda S. Prather

  “I hate to interrupt you, Kacy.” He spit out the last word with contempt. “But he’s killed two women so far and one man.”

  I glanced at Carson and smiled. “I’m not finished, Ace.”

  A few laughs erupted from the crowd.

  “We believe we also have a second killer, who has a Native American fetish toward a mythical demon called the Baykok. This man is responsible for the murders of two detectives, and we also believe he’s responsible for the murder of Sicily James and possibly George Worthington. He’s familiar with police work and may be a former officer. He also has training in the medical field, as he removes his victims’ livers.”

  “Why, for God’s sake?” Flanders asked.

  “The rumor is he eats them, sir.”

  “Are you finished now?” Carson moved toward the podium.

  “No, I’m not.” I turned my attention back to the officers in front of me. “We believe we’re looking for a white male in his mid-thirties. He presents himself well and is most likely good-looking and considers himself charming. The two may, in fact, be brothers. Unlike our serial killer, who Mr. Carson says will fight to the death when cornered, this man has a yellow streak down his back and will run the first opportunity he gets. Be careful out there.” I glanced at Flanders and nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant Flanders.” Walking away from the podium, I called over my shoulder. “I’m done now, Ace.”

  Dave was standing just inside the door, and if looks could really kill, I would have been writhing on the floor in the final throes of death. “What the hell were you doing?” he whispered as I pushed open the door, and he followed me out.

  “My job.” My legs were beginning to tremble as the rage-fueled adrenaline I’d been running on slowly seeped away. “How did it go with Park?”

  “He’s keeping an open mind, but he wants proof.”

  “Damn it, we need to find Janice Stacy.” I stopped as we reached the door, cursing myself for stupidity. “Sicily was near where Min Wong buried me, Worthington was placed in Kyle and Crimson’s apartment, and Emily was at the safe house.” Pushing open the doors, I headed across the parking lot. “We need to check out the Lange Mansion. I think we’ll find Janice Stacy there.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dave was quiet on the way to the car, which was more disturbing than if he’d finished chewing me out. My arm still ached, and I slid off the jacket. Finger streaks were starting to turn blue. I bumped into Dave, who had stopped in front of me.

  “Did that son of a bitch do that?” His gray eyes had turned a cold shade of silver. “I’m gonna go back in there and kick his ass.”

  “I already have.” I slipped on my jacket and took Dave’s arm, guiding him toward the car. “He gave up his accomplice.” I pulled the folded picture from my jacket pocket. “I think his profile was meant to be his goodbye speech.”

  “You think he’s gonna run?” Dave folded the picture, shoved it in his pocket, then unlocked the car. “After what you said?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, the hair along the back of my neck standing on end. “I think he’s going to run to Park’s office and tell him how incompetent we are and how someone else should be handling this case. But after that yellow-streak comment, he’s not going anywhere until he feasts on my liver.”

  Dave opened my door for me. “So why give up his partner?”

  It was a good question, and it had my insides churning. Clipping my seat belt in place, I stared at the dash. “He knew we were getting too close to the truth. His partner is probably long gone, and after delivering his profile, he was going to leave or at least let us think he left.”

  Dave grunted and headed toward Glencoe. “You still have a key?”

  “Until next Friday. It goes on the market then.”

  “They should have let you keep it after what those jerks did to you and Kyle.”

  “I didn’t want it. In all honesty, I think it’s going to be hard to sell. Too much sadness surrounding it.” I slumped in the seat. “Marcone is moving to Chicago. He wants to be around to watch Yoshe grow up.”

  “About time you stopped calling him Marcone.” Dave shot me a glance. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s a good man.”

  “Good men don’t kill people.”

  “They do when those people threaten family. I know I would.” He turned in to the circular drive and parked in front. “I forgot how big this place is. Where the heck do we start?”

  “Carson said I had to put myself in the mind of the killer. Everything he’s done so far has been for shock value to throw me off balance. If it were me, I’d either put the body in the basement, where our final showdown occurred, or in my old bedroom.”

  “Hate to see what that maniac came up with this time.” Dave unhooked his belt and opened his door. “I don’t think Redwine is going to want to talk to us again.”

  I dug through my purse for my keys and followed Dave’s lead. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and there won’t be anything. He’s left the other bodies where they could be easily found. That wouldn’t happen here. At least not until next week.”

  Dave took the keys and opened the front door. “This place still gives me the creeps.”

  Curbing the urge to goose him in the side, I stepped across the threshold. “Not hard to imagine some ancient demon roaming the halls, or maybe it’s just the ghosts of Kurt and Katherine.”

  “Shut your mouth.” Dave shivered beside me.

  I laughed, but even to my own ears, it sounded shaky. “Let’s check the basement first. I didn’t spend enough time in that bedroom for it to have much meaning.”

  “You think the killer would know that?” Dave unclipped his holster and drew his gun.

  “I think Greg had a point about Hilda. Marcone explained the birth date. It would have been contained in FBI files, which makes perfect sense, as Carson had access to those. I think we need to take a trip to the prison and see if old Prune Face has had visitors in the past six months.”

  The silence of the house was unnerving, broken only by Dave’s breathing and the click of our heels on the floors echoing inside the empty rooms.

  We reached the door leading to the basement. I could almost feel Hilda’s breath on my neck. “Give me a pair of gloves. If there’s any fingerprints on the knob, I don’t want to mess them up.”

  “Doubt there will be.” Dave passed me a pair and pulled on his own. “Unless it’s been cleaned, there’s probably dozens on there from earlier.”

  I opened the door. The darkness below was a gaping hole that smelled of bleach and sanitizer. “Damn, I forgot there isn’t any electricity.” Pulling out my cell phone, I loaded the light app and let it play over the stairs. “I feel like I’m in one of those old Boris Karloff movies.”

  “More like Nightmare on Elm Street. Keep the light shining.” Dave moved around me and started down the stairs. “Stay behind me and don’t touch me, because if anything moves, I’m shooting it.”

  I wanted to laugh, but the air around me felt thin, and my heart was playing a bad rendition of “Little Drummer Boy.” Dave stopped at the bottom of the steps and waited for me as I let the light shine around the huge room. “Looks like we were…” The words caught in my throat, my mouth going dry as the light fell on a huge coffin-shaped wooden box beneath the stairs. He buried her alive.

  An image of bloody nails scratching against wood filled my head as Dave grabbed me around the waist and dragged me up the stairs, stopping only long enough to pick up the phone my trembling fingers had dropped.

  “Breathe, Kacy.”

  It wasn’t a panic attack, not the way Dave thought. We reached the top of the steps. “Stop. I’m okay.” Anger was replacing my shock. “I hate that son of a bitch, and if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes.”

  “Good girl. Don’t let him play you.” Dave was fiddling with my phone. “We need to get the electricity turned back on.”

  I stared at the newly painted
hallway as Dave made the call to get the electricity turned on, then for backup, forensics, and the ME.

  “Crew’s on its way.” He was watching me closely. “You okay? We could wait outside.”

  “Better than okay. No more pussyfooting around. We’re going to find the proof that Carson kidnapped Mannie Wallins, and we’re going to find his partner and take them both out of action.” I reached for my phone. I’d been hesitant to get my father involved, but he had connections and resources we couldn’t come close to having access to. “Marcone wanted to help. I’m going to let him.”

  The phone rang three times before going to voicemail. “Dad, it’s me. Can you meet us at the house?” I glanced at Dave, and he held up three fingers. “Give us three hours. We need your help.”

  I reloaded my light and closed my eyes for a minute. “We have to go back down there, Dave. What if she’s still alive?”

  “It’s been two days, Kacy. She’s not alive.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “I know why Carson is letting Mrs. Wallins live. He enjoys her pain, and the knowledge she’ll follow him wherever he goes until either she runs out of money or dies.” I swiped at the tears. “He also knows no one will believe her.” I waved a trembling hand at the basement stairs. “He’s doing the same thing to me, Dave. With every murder, I’m forced to relive Kyle and Simon’s death. I know exactly what Janice Stacy went through in that coffin, so either help me, or I’ll do it by myself. I’m not leaving her in that damned box one minute longer.”

  Dave lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “We’ll do it together.”

  The lights flickered and turned on.

  “Wait for me. I’ll get a crowbar from the car.”

  I dried my eyes and checked my phone while I waited. The silence inside the mansion was eerie, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Dave’s footsteps came quickly down the hall. He stopped in front of me and searched my face. “You sure about this, kid? I can do it.”

  “One for all and all for one, right?”

  Dave nodded and started down the steps. “Let’s do this.”

  Even with the lights on, the basement was creepy, and we stayed close together as we approached the box. Dave examined the top, looking for a spot to insert the bar. “Bastard used screws to tighten it down. We’re gonna need a drill to open it.”

  “Rap on it.”

  “Kacy, honey, she’s gone.”

  “Humor me, okay?”

  Dave rapped on the side of the box, and I held my breath as I listened. A faint scratching sound came from close to the bottom. “Did you hear that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Dropping to my hands and knees, I pressed my ear against the box. “Rap on it again.”

  He rapped twice. Two weak bangs came from inside the box. “She’s alive.” I felt my away around the box, looking for a weak spot. “We’ve got to get her out of there.” I found what I was looking for—a tiny hole between the last two planks. “Over here, Dave.”

  He knelt beside me. “If you can hear me, rap once.”

  A single rap came through, this time loud and clear.

  “I need you to move away from the side of the box as far as you can. I’m going to try to bust through the wood.” Dave rose and gripped the crowbar like a baseball bat. “Move back, Kacy.”

  I crawled a few feet away, holding my breath as Dave swung the bar at the small space between the planks. It connected with the wood, and a few splinters flew out. He hit it again, and the hole widened. “Wait, Dave. See if you can get the bar in there now and pry the wood apart.”

  Dave inserted the bar and pressed. “The angle’s wrong, but at least we’re letting some air in. Where the hell is our backup?”

  “Move the bar along the plank toward the back. If we can get the board loose from the end, maybe we can pull it off.”

  Inserting the bar again, he jimmied it slowly toward the end. I moved to the middle of the box, planted my feet on the bottom plank, and inserted my fingers in the small space. “You prize; I’ll pull.”

  “Get ready.” Dave waited while I shifted my hips to get a good grip. “Tell me when.”

  “Now!” I pulled with all my might, tiny splinters piercing the gloves and sinking into my fingers. The screeching sound of the wood pulling free from the screws was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, and I fell backward as the plank came free.

  “You okay, kid?”

  “Peachy.” I crawled to the open space. “Janice Stacy?”

  “Yes.” The voice was weak and cracked on a sob.

  “Hang on a few more minutes, Janice. We’re going to get you out of there.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Just one more.”

  I gritted my teeth as the paramedic removed the last splinter, poured on something that burned like alcohol, and wrapped my fingers in gauze. “Soak your hands in a solution of peroxide and warm water before you go to bed. They’ll be a little stiff for a day or so, but you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks.” I glanced to where Janice was being loaded into an ambulance. “How is she?”

  “She’ll live, thanks to the two of you.”

  “Good work, Detective.”

  I turned toward Commander Park’s voice. “When did you get here?”

  “A few minutes ago. Was she able to tell you anything about her abductor?”

  “No. She said it all happened too fast. Maybe after she’s had a rest, she’ll remember something we can use.” I glanced around, searching for Dave. “Have you seen my partner?”

  “I sent him to fetch Mrs. Wallins so she could be at the hospital with Miss Stacy.”

  “Thank you, sir. I know she’ll appreciate that.”

  “I have strict orders from Detective Capello to take you home and not let you out of my sight until he returns.” He chuckled. “He seems to be suffering from the delusion that you need protection.”

  The idea of spending time with Park wasn’t something I relished. “Dave can pick me up when he’s finished. There’s no need for you to go out of your way.”

  “Contrary to what you believe, I’m not the enemy, Lang.” He nodded toward the ambulance. “You won a battle, but there’s still a war going on, and from what I can see, you’re outnumbered.”

  “I never thought you were the enemy, sir.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and I answered, “Actually found myself taking up for you recently.”

  His mouth gaped.

  I laughed. “Surprised the hell out of me too. Where did you park?”

  He steered us toward his vehicle near the end of the drive. “I told Carson you’d apologize when he returned.”

  It’ll be a cold day in hell when that happens. “Apologize for what, sir?” Park opened my door and held it until I took my seat.

  “I wasn’t finished, Lang. You will apologize. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to fire you.” Park closed the door and took his seat behind the wheel.

  So much for him not being the enemy. For once I kept my mouth shut and seethed in silence. I had to think about Dave and Greg. It wasn’t just my job at stake. We finished the drive in silence.

  “Give me your keys.” Park held out his hand, and I passed them over. “Stay here until I check your house.”

  More than three hours had passed, and the thought Marcone might be inside had me reaching for the door handle and climbing out. “I’d rather be your backup, sir.”

  “Stay behind me.”

  This is bullshit. I followed him inside and waited as he did a walk-through then holstered his gun. “All clear.”

  “There’s really no reason for you to stay, sir. If you’re worried, you can put a patrol car outside until Dave returns.”

  “I could use a cup of coffee.” Park headed for my kitchen. “How about you?”

  What the fuck is he doing? “Coffee sounds great, sir.”

  Park started a fresh pot. “Have a seat, Lang.”

  Silence was getting me nowhere. “Wh
at’s this all about, Commander? You’re not the chatty type.” I took my seat at the head of the table. “If you leave Dave and Greg out of your decision, I’ll hand over my badge and gun right now. I’m not apologizing to Carson.”

  He placed a cup of coffee in front of me. “Took you long enough.” He sat at the opposite end of the table. “If Carson is the killer you suspect he is, then I need him to see me fire you. I want you in my office tomorrow at five. I’ll ask you to apologize, you’ll refuse, and I’ll take your badge and gun. He’s been accused once and walked away. We need to catch him in the act, and he needs to think you’re on your own.”