* * *
“You got any more in that bottle?” the doctor asked.
“Not this one,” he said, holding it upside down to let the last drop of whiskey fall out onto the asphalt.
“Damn.” The former surgeon swiped the dirty sleeve of his jacket over his lips. His reddened, rheumy eyes begged for more of the liquor he’d drowned in since leaving prison.
“I got more,” he said, leaving the idea hanging in the damp rainy atmosphere surrounding their spot underneath the interstate overpass where they’d taken shelter.
The older man’s eyes lit up. “Well, bring it out.”
“Can’t, I left it over in my motel room.”
“You got a warm room? What are you doing out on a night like this?”
He chuckled. “Same as you. Got caught by that sudden rainstorm that blew in off the lake.”
The doctor nodded. “Damn lake-effect rain and snow. One of the few things I hate about Cleveland.”
“Looks like there’s a break in the weather.” He stood and held out his hand into the drizzle that was now coming down. “Might head on over to my room before it gets worse. That new bottle is just waiting on me to crack it open.” He paused, to let the temptation of more liquor stimulate this guy’s craving button. “You’re welcome to come help me.”
25
The email alert went off on Aaron’s phone as Brianna walked into her kitchen. Seated at her kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, with Stanley seated on his lap, he pushed a few buttons on his phone. She smiled at the pair and went to her coffee maker to slip her favorite flavor of single cup coffee into the top, expecting to find the empty one of his still inside.
It was empty. She smiled and reached for a coffee cup in her cupboard.
Of course, he cleaned up after himself, this was Aaron after all. Neat. Precise. Spending one night with her hadn’t changed him.
When she’d awakened this morning with him snuggled spoon style to her back, she’d thought things would be awkward, strained. Instead, he’d made love to her again, leaving her wishing she could stay in bed with him the rest of the day. But he’d climbed out of bed asking if she minded if he showered first before they headed back to the homicide unit for a briefing with Special Agent Smith, bringing her back to reality.
Someone was killing people and they had to stop him.
Her coffee ready, she doctored it with some of the French Vanilla creamer from her fridge before joining him at the table.
“The Department of Veteran’s Affairs finally got back to me,” he said, looking up at her. “They’ve identified Art.”
She stopped with her cup half-way to her lips and both brows raised in question. “Well?”
“Arthur James McKibben was born in nineteen-forty-six, so he was seventy-four years old.”
“Fits the timeline for being a Vietnam Vet and the elderly man we saw in the factory the other night.”
Aaron nodded, then went back to reading from his phone. “He was awarded the Silver Star and the Distinguished Service Cross for his participation in Operation Apache Snow.” He paused a moment. “That’s known as Hamburger Hill.”
“Wasn’t that a movie?”
He nodded again. “Also, huge casualties and then the Army abandoned it a month later fueling the anti-war movement at home.”
“Does his file list any family members?” She didn’t like thinking his family would find out he’d been murdered, but she would want to know if something had happened to someone she loved—like Abby or Aaron.
Whoa. Where had that come from? She knew she loved Abby like a sister, but Aaron? Was she thinking she was in love with him because they’d slept together? Was she falling back into that trap she’d learned years ago?
“Says here he had a sister and brother, as well as a wife and daughter,” he continued reading, then looked up at her with sadness in his eyes. Despite all the horror he saw daily in his work, horror they’d both witnessed the past few days, this man was capable of deep compassion for others.
And that’s when it really hit her.
She’d made love to him because she loved him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, laying his hand on hers.
She blinked and focused on what he’d read her. “It’s just so sad. Art served his country with honor and ends up living on the streets without his family to love him. Then some sick person decides to murder him and he dies alone without anyone to mourn him.”
“He had your friend, Paula,” he said squeezing her hand, then lowering it toe rub Stanley’s head. “And he had this little guy to love before that.”
“So, who will tell his family? You?”
“I’ll have someone at the precinct get their information and I’ll notify them later today.”
“Over the phone?”
He inhaled, then blew it out in a frustrated huff. “Depends. If they’re in the area, I’ll do it in person. I always think it’s kinder to do that. But if they’re not here, then by phone.”
“I have to tell you that after having to break bad news to Paula twice, I think that part of your job sucks.”
“There are quite a few parts of my job that suck,” he said, pocketing his phone and taking a long drink of his coffee.
“Then why do you do it?”
“I guess it’s in my blood. My dad and grandfather were both cops.” He finished off his coffee, set Stanley on the floor and took his cup to the sink and rinsed it off. Then he snapped on Stanley’s leash. “I’ll take him out before we head into the precinct.”
Wondering at his sudden change in demeanor—Aaron was never curt with her or anyone like he’d just been in his answer—she grabbed a travel mug from the cupboard and poured the rest of her coffee in. She knew his mother had passed away, but he never talked about his father. As curious as she was about his past, she wasn’t going to push him about it right now. They certainly had more important things on their plate.
“Why are you taking Stanley into the station? I thought you’d drop him off at the safehouse with me,” she said as they climbed into her car a few minutes later.
“You’re both going to the meeting with me,” he said, opening the garage door and starting the car.
She blinked as they pulled out. “Why? Won’t your captain be upset to have a civilian and a dog in on the discussion?”
“Too bad. You’ve both been instrumental to this investigation and helped us get some clues about this murderer.” He glanced at her as he turned onto the freeway to head back downtown. “Right now, we need all the help we can get to stop him.”
* * *
For a Saturday morning, the homicide division was full of people when they entered. Several stopped to talk them and comment about Stanley, nestled in Brianna’s arms. Aaron introduced her and the pup to them while thankfully continuing to move them towards the conference room where they’d interviewed her about Mia the day before. Before her own kidnapping, she’d have loved all the attention. Between the paparazzi parked outside the hospital and her home when the story broke, and at the courthouse during the nationally broadcasted trial, these days big groups of people triggered a fear of crowds.
Unfortunately, arriving in the conference room wasn’t any better. The place was packed with people, some dressed in casual clothes like Aaron and other looking very important in their uniforms. There were a few familiar faces though, which eased her anxiety. Carson Smith sat on one side of the conference table, studying the open file in front of him. Seated beside him was the coroner’s investigator, Anita Ramos and on the other side of her sat Jaylon trying to get the petite brunette’s attention. Aaron’s boss, Captain Stedaman sat in the back of the room talking with a man Brianna recognized from the news as the Chief of Police.
At the sight of him, she stopped dead in her tracks. Aaron, entering behind her, laid one hand on her back and gave her a little shove, whispering, “It’s okay. You belong here.”
Yeah, right. She belonged here like a goldfish
belonged in a pool of sharks.
She wouldn’t make a scene, so she kept moving into the room.
“Thank you all for coming in on a Saturday,” he said, gaining quiet from the others. “This is Brianna Matthews, and she is both a witness and a valuable asset on this case.”
“I believe most of us know Ms. Matthews from the trials a few years back. Welcome,” the police chief said and gave her a smile and nod.
Aaron pointed at the pup in her arms. “And this is Stanley, our only eyewitness to our suspect.”
That got a chuckle out of everyone, easing Brianna’s nervousness a little more.
“Why don’t you take my seat, Brianna,” Jaylon said, standing and holding the chair for her a moment.
It was very kind of him, but she suspected it also gave him bonus points with Ramos, who reached over to pet Stanley. The pup licked her hand, then curled into a ball in Brianna’s lap, his perked ears belying his relaxed mode.
“You can begin, Detective Jeffers,” the Police Chief said, and the room quickly turned their attention to Aaron.
Before he could begin, the conference room door opened.
“Sorry we’re late,” Matt Edgars said as he entered, with Kirk F on his heels. “Kid couldn’t find a parking spot.”
“Hey, I’m not getting Nana’s Caddy dinged by some patrolman or criminal doing a high-speed getaway in that parking garage. She’d tan my hide to next week,” Kirk F stopped his protest and swallowed when he realized he was looking at a whole lot of important police people. Brianna knew just how he felt.
“Everyone, this is Matt Edgars, a private security officer doing some witness protection work for us on the case. And Kirk F Patrick, a criminal justice major and my unofficial intern.” Aaron turned to Kirk F. “Did you bring the information?”
“Yes, sir,” the younger man said, standing a little straighter and reaching into his backpack for his laptop.
“Good. Find a spot and I’ll ask you for it when I get to that part,” Aaron said indicating a vacant area near the window.
Once they were settled, he began his summation of the case so far.
“Thursday morning, Ms. Matthews and I discovered a body in an abandoned textile factory on Carnegie just east of Fifty-Fifth Street. Yesterday morning we found another body under the train track overpass on University near the Canal Towpath Trail. Given the state of the two victims when found and their causes of death, we’ve determined this is the work of the same killer.
He nodded to Jaylon and the pair flipped over the whiteboard stationed at their end of the conference room. At the top were eight-by-ten photos of Art and Mia, but not how they’d appeared at the crime scenes. Instead, Aaron had asked Jaylon to post Art’s photo as a young man just entering the army and the photo of Mia from her first year in college holding her violin. He’d made them people, not just victims.
Below those photos were the pictures of each of the crime scenes, showing them posed and a second one showing closeups of them looking, Brianna knew, to the east.
Aaron gave a summary of the bios of both Art and Mia, then he spoke how each body had been cleaned from head to toe post-mortem and changed into clean clothes—both appropriate to an earlier time in their lives—before being staged to be looking at the sunrise when found.
“It says in your report that they were found exsanguinated?” the police chief asked. “But your crime scenes are pretty bloodless.”
“We believe there is another crime scene where the victims are held and killed,” Jaylon spoke up, then glanced at Anita.
“The cause of death is exsanguination,” she said, taking over the telling of the story. “We believe he is harvesting their blood.”
“Harvesting?” This from an Asian American woman in a patrolman’s uniform of white blouse and blue slacks, seated across the table from Brianna.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ramos said, deferring to the woman’s rank. “This isn’t a quick kill. We’ve determined that he slowly drains them of their blood. This can take several hours or even days, depending on the health of his victims.” She flipped a page on the file in front of her. “We found levels of Ketamine and GHB in both autopsies—”
“How did you find drugs in their system if there is no blood?” Captain Stedaman asked.
“There was a small amount of blood in the first victim we found,” Anita pointed to Art’s picture. “But not enough to do a toxicology test. We drained a small amount of urine that had pooled in his bladder and also tested for drugs from hair samples.” She pointed to Mia. “The second body we found, which we believe may have been his first kill was frozen, so we used hair samples from her, too.”
“Wait,” the chief said, holding up his hand. “What do you mean she was frozen?”
Aaron took over once more, explaining that they believed Mia was actually the killer’s first victim and that he’d frozen her body for what was probably six or seven months, based on the last time anyone had spoken with her. He also went on to explain that they believed whoever was doing this was choosing the homeless, because they were already an at-risk population and easy to disappear them. “As Jaylon said at the beginning of this, no one looks for someone they already consider missing.”
Several heads nodded around the table.
“True. If you’re going hunting, look for the easiest prey,” Carson said.
“What can you tell us about this murderer since you’re the profiler? And by the way, how did you come to be in on this so quickly?” The Chief lifted one brow in suspicion at him.
“Special Agent Smith is on sabbatical from the bureau right now,” Aaron stepped in to say. “He is a friend of a friend of mine and offered to help.”
“Considering we have a sick sonofabitch killing in our community, we of course appreciate all the help we can get, ” Captain Stedaman fixed a serious look at Aaron, the unsaid warning that Aaron was skirting the line of not following protocols hanging between them.
“Yes, sir,” Aaron said, the little muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Before we hear from our FBI friend, Investigator Ramos, were there any other drugs found in the toxicology tests?” the Chief asked.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We found small levels of Methamphetamine.”
“Great,” another of the uniformed officers on the opposite side of the table said. “He’s going for homeless drug addicts?”
“I didn’t say that,” Ramos said to the man, just a little on the testy side.
“If you found Meth—”
“As I said,” it was Ramos’s turn to interrupt him, “we found a small amount of Methamphetamine in both their samples. Not enough to indicate long term use. Since we know he’s draining their blood, the cardiac stimulant affect of Meth could have been used to keep the victim’s blood pressure elevated and their heart beating to circulate the blood as the volume levels decreased prior to their death.”
Brianna wanted to grin, cheer and fist-bump the woman beside her. Internally, she did so. As a woman who’d hidden her talents and brains for years, she understood what it was like to have a man question her work. To make them understand how brilliant you were in a public setting like this? Brilliant!
“That’s sick,” one of the plain clothes detectives muttered and others nodded their agreement.
“It is, but it’s also part of his process,” Carson said. “A key part of his psychopathy.”
“Which is?” Stedaman asked.
“He wants all their blood and he’s draining it by gravity, that means a certain amount of pressure must be maintained, so he needs the heart to keep pumping. He also wants them to suffer as their blood drains away. Stimulating their hearts allows that to happen. As the blood volume drops the body shunts it to the most important parts of the body, the brain, heart and lungs. They’ll become confused, drift in and out of reality. He snaps them back in with a hit of the Meth. Eventually that won’t work as minimal circulating volume is left. Then they won’t be able to breathe and their heart
will stop working correctly, which results in chest pain. If they’re even a little bit cognizant at this point, they may beg for help.”
The room was silent as they all took in the depravity of the man they were hunting.
“So, what’s he doing with the blood?” One of the plain clothes detectives asked. “Drinking it?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard there were weird people who actually drink blood,” another detective said.
That got them several jokes about Dracula and vampires, which lightened the mood a little. As an outsider, Brianna should be surprised at the dark humor, but her time spent among Aaron and the Edgars clan—cops and nurses—she realized that if they didn’t find some way of getting past the cruelty and death, they wouldn’t be able to do their jobs.
“We don’t believe he’s drinking it,” Aaron said, with a quick nod from Carson to confirm his conclusion was on the right track.
Carson took the lead now. “If that was all he wanted, he’d simply drain as much blood as he could and dump the bodies anywhere. Instead, he’s trying to take all the blood then staging the bodies to tell us something. What, we’re not sure about yet.”
“If he’s not drinking it, what the hell is he doing with it?” Stedaman asked.
Aaron looked to Brianna. And this is where she had to say the unthinkable, because she’d been the one to think it first.
“We think he’s somehow adding it to the local blood supply at the blood banks.”
26
The doctor’s body slid from the cart to the examination table with less effort than the football player’s had. The rain last night had backed his schedule up a day, so he’d moved onto collecting his next donor. The weather report said no rain tonight, so he’d be able to post his next message to the world tonight.
He pulled extra hard on the leather strap up around the body’s upper torso and buckled it tight below the edge of the table, then repeated the same on the one across the lower abdomen and hips.
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