✽ ✽ ✽
At the coroner’s office, Victory and Ryan took the elevator to the third floor where most of the labs were located, including, DNA, drug, trace, and ballistics. She knew most crime labs in the country were backlogged including Quantico’s state-of-the-art facility. Hamilton County Coroner’s Laboratory was no exception, serving forty-three police agencies in the region, as well as the City of Cincinnati. The business of death was a twenty-four-seven job.
The elevator doors opened.
Ryan paused and sniffed the air. “Smells like one of the lab techs is drying marijuana in the closet again.”
“Or smoking it.” Victory unzipped her coat.
Dawn Addison, a DNA tech met them in the hallway lined with evidence boxes waiting to be checked in. She was a pretty woman in her early forties with pale skin framed by shoulder-length wavy red hair. She looked tired and worn, her expression strained. Everyone involved with The Wrapper and the Bullington cases had been working tirelessly for days.
Victory handed her the evidence bags, her thoughts drifting to Angel Hogan’s father. “Thanks for doing this on short notice. I know how busy you are.”
Dawn took the bags. “Perfect timing. Gregory sent up a sample from the victim a little while ago. I should have the results within an hour or so.”
Wheels clicked, jingled, and squeaked on the outdated and scuffed linoleum floor behind her. Victory glanced over her shoulder and watched a man pushing a dolly into the elevator, stacked high with boxes. She turned her attention back to Dawn. “Thanks. We’ll stick around. We could use a break, a little downtime.”
“It sounds like it’s been crazy the past few days with The Wrapper and the Bullington cases.”
“Unfortunately, the craziness is just beginning.”
Dawn frowned and held up the bags. “Well, I’d better get started if you want the DNA results tonight.”
“We’ll be around. Thanks again.”
After the woman left, Victory’s stomach rumbled loudly.
Ryan grinned. “Now that’s what happens after you spill your guts at a crime scene.”
“I knew that was coming,” Victory said. “It was just a matter of when. You aren’t going to let me live that down, are you?”
Ryan smirked. “Not a chance.”
She opened her mouth about to say something when her cell phone shrilled. She slipped it out of her pocket and answered the call.
“Hi, Sean.”
“I just finished following up with the cab companies. No one matching Angel Hogan’s description was picked up at the club.”
“The killer probably met her inside.”
“Looks that way.” Sean said.
“Could you go back and talk to Angel’s girlfriends again, and the club employees? I have a feeling someone knows something they aren’t telling us. See if the club has cameras. And double-check every CCTV you can find in the area. We’re at the lab waiting for Angel Hogan’s DNA results, and a hit on the drug serial number.”
“Sure. I’m downtown now, a couple blocks from the club,” he said.
“Thanks.”
After Victory finished the call, Ryan went across the street to a family diner and grabbed a couple of burgers and coffee. When he returned, she sat on the floor in the hallway, under the hum of the florescent lights and scarfed down her meal, satisfied the food would stop her grumbling stomach.
Ryan finished his burger, scrunched the wrapper into a ball and tossed it in the bag.
“Vic, ever wonder how many bodies have come through this place?”
“Every time I’m sitting on the cold floor of a pot-smelling death house.” She took a sip of her coffee and heard the elevator doors open at the end of the hallway, and saw Gregory walking toward them carrying a file folder. She rose to her feet.
The M.E. gave her a broad smile. “Good news.”
“We could use some,” Ryan said.
“The label was traced to a manufacturer in South Africa where the drug is legal.”
“South Africa? The killer probably nabbed it on the streets since it’s illegal here. How does that help us?”
“That doesn’t.” He handed her the file folder. “It’s the partial print discovered on the corner of the label. We got a match. It belongs to a pharmacist by the name of Jeremy Elder. He owns a pharmacy downtown.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “He screwed up. His fingerprints are on file, required by law.”
Victory breathed a sigh of relief. It was the break they needed.
Gregory nodded. “The Ohio State Board of Pharmacy requires all pharmacists and interns submit a criminal records check including fingerprints.”
She opened the folder and looked at the report. She examined the photograph of Jeremy Elder. He appeared to be in his thirties. He had striking male model looks, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. “He’s attractive. If this is our man, he uses his looks to his advantage when hunting for his ideal victim.”
Excitement filled her. She pushed it down, kept it at bay. She wouldn’t be happy until the killer was proven guilty and put behind bars. At least they had enough for a warrant. She glanced at Ryan. “CenterTown Pharmacy on Race Street.”
“I’ll get Angie moving on the search warrant,” Ryan said. He grabbed his cell phone and called the office.
“I’m going to check in with Dawn and see how out much longer for the DNA results.” She looked at Gregory. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. If he is the killer, nail his ass to the wall, Victory.”
She smiled slightly. “Believe me, that will be my pleasure.”
With a spring in her step, Victory hustled down the hall. A muffled gunshot reverberated through the walls coming from the ballistics lab. Two doors down, she poked her head inside the cave-like confines of the DNA lab. Dawn was sitting at her makeshift desk, constructed from file cabinets and a slab of wood, working away on her laptop.
The woman looked up at her, her green eyes warier than earlier. “I was just about to come and see you. The DNA is a match.” She closed the laptop and paused for a second. “Another young woman is going home.”
A sick feeling rolled in Victory’s stomach. Her excitement about Jeremy Elder sobered slightly, dampened by having to tell Samuel Hogan his daughter was dead.
✽ ✽ ✽
Victory frowned at the traffic moving at a snail’s pace due to the blizzard conditions. It had taken almost thirty minutes to reach downtown and they still weren’t at the pharmacy. Ahead, a snowplow burst through the heavy snow on the street. The plow scraped against the pavement and tossed snow against the windshield of the Suburban.
Before they’d left the coroner’s office, she had called Curtis to have another FBI agent go and notify Samuel Hogan about his daughter. She gazed out the window and watched the traffic creeping along in the other lane, her heart heavy.
Ryan turned the wipers on high. “What if he isn’t our guy?”
“What?”
“What if he isn’t our guy?”
“If he isn’t, he’s peddling Rohypnol out of the pharmacy. One way or another we’re bringing him in.”
“There was no home address listed in the file M.E. gave us.”
“I know, Riddle Man. I’m way ahead of you. Our response team is already on their way to his home on Flyer Drive.”
Ryan huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by being called Riddle Man. “That’s about thirty minutes from the field office. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
“What about Melissa?”
“She’s a riddle that’s going to have to wait to be solved.” Victory pointed ahead to CenterTown Pharmacy’s large red sign, blinking ‘Open 24 Hours’. Anticipation flowed through her, and her pulse rate accelerated. “That’s the place.”
The pharmacy was tucked between a mom-and-pop pizza joint and a small bakery. Both were closed. She’d called Sean when they had left the coroner’s office, asking him to meet them with four Cincinnati cops in case the
re was trouble.
Ryan rolled into the unplowed lot and parked next to one of the three cars covered with snow. He kept the engine running. “Doesn’t look too busy.”
“That’s good for us.” Victory undid her seatbelt and her phone buzzed. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and read the text message. “Boot treads belong to a pair of Sorel Glacier boots, double E, size 12.” She quickly forwarded the information to the FBI team en route to Jeremy Elder’s house, then stuffed the phone in her pocket.
Ryan glanced at her. “Hey, you’re forty-five tomorrow.”
“Did you have to remind me? Forty-five. I demand a recount. The only good thing happening tomorrow is Jade coming home.”
“And we might catch The Wrapper.” Ryan released his seatbelt and smirked. “Did you know forty-five is three-hundred and fifteen years in dog years?”
Victory groaned inwardly and glanced at the clock on the dash, which read ten o’clock. Snow and ice pellets tapped gently against the windshield and melted almost instantly.
“What’s the big plan for tomorrow evening?”
“Dinner and drinks at my place since everyone is hellbent on celebrating my forward movement into a nursing home.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement and he gave her a toothy grin. “Someone has to celebrate, Vic.” He turned the heat down and opened the window a bit. “I haven’t seen Jade in a while.”
“I hate to admit—she’ll be happy to see you.”
Victory thought about how proud she was of her daughter working hard in her first year in the criminal justice program at Notre Dame College. As much as she didn’t want Jade following in her footsteps, Victory accepted her daughter wanted a career with the FBI. There was no stopping her. She stared out the window and the same nagging sadness filled her, knowing Josh wouldn’t be seeing Jade graduate…get married…have kids.
“They’re here.” Ryan said.
“What?”
Her attention shifted to the side mirror as Sean’s black SUV came rolling into the parking lot with two Cincinnati police cruisers following behind.
Ryan killed the engine.
After Sean and the officers exited their vehicles, Victory and Ryan went to meet them.
She nodded at the four male officers, their CPD knit caps covered in white, slick with snow. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime. You think this guy is The Wrapper?” The tallest officer in the group asked as he unzipped his winter coat, revealing his black body armor.
Ryan nodded, glancing at the pharmacy. “We hope so.”
“Would be nice to have the piece of crap off the streets,” one of the other officers said.
Victory couldn’t agree more. She turned her body to shield herself from the driving wind and snow. “We have a team heading to his house. We’ll know soon if he’s the killer.”
As they walked through the front door of the pharmacy, the air thrummed with tension and a blast of warm air hit her face. Victory looked around. The pharmacy was familiar. She swore she’d been here before but couldn’t remember when. She let the thought go, focusing on hoping they had the right guy, then at least one serial killer would be off the streets.
The store was quiet. A lone female clerk was working the front checkout, ringing a young female customer’s purchase through.
Victory, Ryan, and two of the officers cautiously walked to the back of the pharmacy while two officers stood guard at the front of the store.
Victory stopped in front of the glass-enclosed pharmacy counter with a small metal speaker. “Is Jeremy Elder here?”
The short woman in her thirties, dressed in a white lab coat, eyed Victory’s FBI credentials hanging around her neck. The small plastic nametag pinned to the woman’s coat read, Malynda Beran, with Pharmacy Assistant below her name.
Malynda’s eyes widened. “Um—no, he’s not. Is there something I can help you with?”
Ryan peered down the two aisles. “You sure he isn’t here?”
The woman looked at Ryan, then back to Victory. “He left a few hours ago.” She paused for a second and worry lines crinkled her forehead. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s not something we can discuss.”
“What’s back there?” Ryan asked, as he pointed to a closed gray door next to the pharmacy area.
“That’s the storage room, and our break room.”
Victory nodded to the two officers to check out the rooms.
The woman straightened and pursed her lips. “Are you sure you’re allowed to go back there without Jeremy here?”
Victory locked eyes with the woman. “I’m sure.”
Sean handed Malynda the warrant he’d picked up on the way to the pharmacy.
She unfolded the paper and read it. Her eyebrows raised, and she put the warrant on the counter. “Could you please tell me what’s going on? I’ve worked for Jeremy for almost six years.”
“Sorry, we can’t do that,” Ryan said.
Victory’s eyes traveled to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Are there any other employees working tonight, besides you and the clerk at the front?”
Malynda shook her head. “No, it’s extremely quiet with the storm.”
“What time did Jeremy leave tonight?”
“About seven o’clock.”
When the officers returned from checking the storage room, one of them shook his head.
“Was Jeremy here all day?”
“I don’t know. I came in for my shift at three. As far as I know he started work at six this morning like he always does.” Victory was about to ask another question when her phone rang. She snatched the phone out of her pocket. It was one of their team members at Jeremy’s house.
“Is he there?” Victory asked.
“Sorry, Vic. No sign of him. According to his neighbors, they haven’t seen him today.”
Victory recognized Mike Andrews’ low, raspy voice. He was one of the agents she’d trained with when she first joined the Bureau. He had a foul mouth, a seventies handlebar mustache, and a tough beat cop attitude.
“We found some jewelry hidden in an envelope under the dresser in the bedroom. We’ve got a white gold ring that looks like the one belonging to Nicole Henderson. I’ll email you the photo in a minute,” he said.
Her excitement resurfaced. Jeremy Elder was looking more and more like he was The Wrapper. “Thanks. Did the Sorel boots turn up?”
“No boots. He’s probably wearing them.”
“Probably, or he tossed them.” All they had to do was find him. Her gaze flicked back to the security camera. “Do me a favor, Mike. Get the ERT over to CenterTown Pharmacy on Race Street when they’re done at the house.”
“They’re just finishing up,” Mike said. “Might be a while before they get there with this shitty weather.”
“It’s going to be a long night either way, bad weather or not. Also, have a couple of our guys sit on the house in case Elder returns.”
“Will do.”
Victory disconnected and turned to Ryan. She kept her voice to a whisper so Malynda couldn’t hear her. “We’ll need an arrest warrant for Jeremy Elder.”
✽ ✽ ✽
With gloved hands, Jeremy bent and picked up the bloody heart from the warehouse floor and tossed the organ into the plastic garbage bin. Then he scooped up the HazMat suit, booties, and gloves he’d worn when he killed Angel. Hatred kept him focused. He wished it had been Lily’s heart. She would have felt the same agony he’d felt when she left him and disappeared.
He could still smell the faint odor of baby oil, smoky burnt flesh and body fluids over the strong odor of bleach he’d poured on the concrete floor earlier. He threw the chair, the woman’s clothing, and her purse into the trash. The necklace she’d been wearing, a small gold cross, was tucked in his pocket for safe keeping—a nice addition to the other trophies he’d collected over the years.
His cell phone rang. Jeremy pulled the phone from his jeans pocket
and checked the screen. It was his pharmacy assistant. He tapped the ‘answer’ button, drew a deep breath, and blew it out. He needed to sound calm, as if it were business as usual.
“Hello?”
“Jeremy?”
Malynda’s voice sounded odd. Something in her tone. Urgency.
“Is everything okay at work?”
“The FBI are here. They had a search warrant. They’re going through the pharmacy right now. What’s going on, Jeremy?”
His heart stopped, and he heard himself gasp. The FBI were on to him. Agent McClane was on to him. How? He’d been so careful right down to the smallest detail to ensure there wasn’t a speck of evidence linking him to any of the women. There was a taste in the back of his throat, a combination of fear and anger. He paced the empty space with his cell phone gripped tight in his hand.
“Where are you?”
“In the bathroom so they can’t hear me.”
Jeremy stopped pacing. He stared at the garbage pail. Evidence needed to be destroyed, and quickly. What was he going to do? He couldn’t go to the pharmacy, and by now the authorities knew where he lived.
“I’ll be in for my usual shift and I’ll speak with them then. I have no idea what’s going on,” he said, knowing going into work was the last thing he was going to do. “Don’t tell them we spoke, okay?”
“I’ve known you for years, Jeremy. You’re a good man. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Maybe some of the narcotics were mislabeled or something. It’s happened before from the manufacturer. I’ll look after it when I get there. Thanks for calling, Malynda. I appreciate it.”
After Jeremy ended the call, he snatched the floor mop and threw it like a javelin across the warehouse. The handle hit the wall with a sharp crack. He felt his breathing sped up and the vein in the side of his neck thumped.
Getting caught wasn’t an option. He’d never have the chance to find Lily and punish her. Anger raged through him. He kicked the metal bucket full of water and bleach, the contents splashing onto his pants as the bucket clattered against the cement floor.
He couldn’t leave the country with the FBI on this trail. He had been prepared for years in case something like this happened. He had everything he needed at the warehouse. His eyes shifted to the Toyota Camry, registered in his dead mother’s name. The FBI would be looking for his silver Acura.
Deadly Shadow Page 10