Kill Game

by Cordelia Kingsbridge

  He should have anticipated that Keith’s death would hit her this hard. “Natasha, you don’t bear any responsibility for what happened.”

  “Don’t I, though?” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. “I knew Keith was having a hard time, but I didn’t know what he was truly capable of—and I should have. Maybe I could have helped him, could have stopped him. But he didn’t even tell me about the blackouts.” Swallowing hard, she added, “I guess he didn’t trust me enough.”

  Levi didn’t know what to say. He’d never been good at offering comfort, even when he wanted to; he just couldn’t find the right words.

  Natasha ran a hand through her long auburn hair. “I told Dr. Tran a thousand times that Keith was reacting badly to his medication,” she said bitterly. “She just waved off my concerns. I’m not a doctor, so what the hell do I know, right?”

  “It wasn’t just a bad reaction. Keith was on a bunch of different drugs when he died, both prescription and illicit.”

  She didn’t seem surprised. “Trying to numb the pain, maybe. Or escape the reality of what was happening to him.”

  “I don’t think Keith was the Seven of Spades,” Levi said, even though he’d decided not five minutes earlier to be more discreet. He couldn’t bear to see Natasha beating herself up about this. Besides, if she hadn’t heard about his objections yet, the substation rumor mill would fill her in soon enough. His protests last night over the case being closed had been neither subtle nor quiet.

  “You . . .” She wiped the tears off her cheeks, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Really? Why not?”

  “I’m the only one who spoke to both Keith and the Seven of Spades directly. They were not the same person. Think about it: the Seven of Spades has proven that they’re methodical, detail-oriented, extremely patient. Does that sound like Keith to you, even before his suspension?”

  She chewed her lower lip. “Honestly, no.”

  “I can’t prove it yet,” he said, “but I know Keith was framed.”

  She was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Then she said, “God, this is so selfish, but I hope you’re right. It would mean that there’s still a serial killer loose in the city, but . . . I’d rather believe that than believe Keith was a murderer and that I missed it all along.” Slumping in her chair, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s not.” Levi leaned over and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll figure out what really happened. I promise.”

  Her smile was more genuine this time, and she squeezed his hand before straightening up. “I assume you stopped by to schedule your next session?”

  “Yeah, but we don’t have to—”

  “We do.” Pulling herself together, Natasha stood and retrieved a day planner from her desk. “I’m in no position to be offering counseling today, obviously, but how about Wednesday at two?”

  “I’ll be there,” said Levi.

  He returned to the bullpen a few minutes later to grab his stuff and say goodbye to Martine. His car was still out of commission, so he’d have to cab it back to his hotel— God, that was a depressing thought. Maybe he should spend the day looking for an apartment.

  On his way to his desk, however, he was distracted by the sight of Freeman from Internal Affairs escorting Kelly Marin toward the back of the station with a firm grip on her elbow. Her face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together. Everyone in the bullpen was watching and whispering to each other.

  “What’s going on here?” Levi asked, cutting in front of them.

  Freeman jerked his head toward Kelly. “Officer Marin is the one who leaked the Seven of Spades story to the Review-Journal.”

  Levi’s eyes widened. He looked to her for confirmation, and she met his gaze straight-on despite her obvious anxiety.

  “Why?” he said.

  “Because the Seven of Spades promised not to kill anyone for five days, and nobody else seemed to think that was worth anything.” Kelly lifted her chin. “I did. And people deserved to know the truth. I stand by my decision.”

  Freeman made a disgusted noise and tugged on her elbow. “Out of the way, Abrams.”

  Levi stepped aside, his head spinning. He liked Kelly; she was one of the best of the recent class of rookie cops. He’d expected great things from her in the future. To find out she’d been disloyal to the department . . .

  Conversation in the bullpen returned to normal volume. Levi went to his desk, where Martine eyed him sympathetically and said, “She’ll be fine. She’ll get kicked down to some shit assignment for a while and work her way back up. It’s not the end of her career.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He shut down his computer and pulled his cell phone off its charger. “Wen told me to go home.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I’m just going to finish a few things up myself and then go surprise my girls on their lunch period.”

  She concentrated on her own computer as she spoke, not looking at him, and her voice was just a bit too upbeat.

  “You don’t believe me, either.” He tried not to feel betrayed, knowing that wasn’t fair to her, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

  “I . . .” Heaving a sigh, she turned from her computer to give him her full attention, clasping her hands on her desk. “I have total faith in you, Levi, and I trust your gut as much as I trust mine. You know I’ve always had your back. But this isn’t a normal case—this time, you’re not an impartial third party.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  “Always,” said Levi.

  “The Seven of Spades targeted you specifically. He singled you out, took a special interest in you, communicated with you rather than anyone else. But you don’t know why, and if Keith Chapman was the Seven of Spades, you never will. You’ll never have closure unless the killer is still out there somewhere. So you don’t want it to have been him.”

  Struck speechless, Levi’s only response was a dry clicking noise in the back of his throat. However much he hated to admit it, Martine wasn’t far off base.

  She leaned over her clasped hands and lowered her voice. “Think about what you’re asking people to believe. A hyper-intelligent serial killer is running around the city, manipulating people and setting up a cop to take the fall for their crimes? All without leaving any evidence whatsoever? Nobody’s going to buy that. They just want to put this all behind them and move on. What you’re suggesting is—it’s a nightmare.”

  That was part of the problem, of course. Everyone in the department was deeply ashamed by the idea that one of their own had been a serial killer. Now that the case had been resolved, they wanted to bury it, forget it had ever happened. Nobody wanted to entertain the possibility that things could be even worse than they already appeared.

  “It wasn’t him,” Levi said wearily.

  “Then who was it?”

  She had him there. The truth was, it could have been anyone. Any employee in the LVMPD or the DA’s office would have known that Keith would make a perfect fall guy, and could have obtained access to all the information the Seven of Spades had been working with. The killer could be sitting right here in this room.

  Levi’s eyes traveled from the hallway that led to Sergeant Wen’s office, to the desk where Jonah Gibbs was joking around with Carmen Rivera, to the direction Freeman had escorted Kelly. How much did he really know about the people he worked with?

  “I want to believe you more than anything in the world.” Martine sat upright. “If you give me one shred of physical evidence, no matter how small, I’ll back you up regardless of the consequences. Unless you have proof, though, I can’t take that risk. And I don’t think you should, either.”

  “I know,” he muttered. “I’m not going to make a laughingstock of myself or drag you down with me. I’ll be careful.”

  Cell phone in hand, he stood and walked around their desks. She caught his arm as he passed by.

  “Levi,” she said, her eyes sad. �
�I’m really sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, and he meant that sincerely. Martine had a husband and two daughters who relied on her keeping her job and her professional reputation intact.

  Levi only had himself.

  Dominic was chatting with the administrative assistant at the front desk when Levi entered the substation lobby, absorbed in his phone. His heart skipping pleasantly, Dominic bid the assistant goodbye and pushed off the desk. “Levi?”

  Though Levi didn’t startle, there was a trace of surprise in his eyes as he looked up. “Dominic. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to drop all my information off with human resources for my consulting fee.”

  “You had to do that in person?”

  “No,” Dominic said, because he’d never been the kind of guy who was afraid of putting himself out there. “I thought I might run into you, and I wanted an excuse to see you.”

  There were so many ways this moment could go wrong. Levi could reject him, tell him he was no longer interested. He could get stiff and cold and awkward like he always used to around Dominic. He could decide Dominic was being creepy and tell him to back the fuck off.

  Instead, a flush rose on Levi’s cheeks and he said, very quietly, “You don’t need an excuse to see me.”

  “Good to know.” Warmth bloomed in Dominic’s chest. “Are you heading out? Little early for lunch, isn’t it?”

  “Actually, I’m being sent home for the day. My sergeant thinks I’m on the edge of burnout.” Levi tilted his phone from side to side. “I haven’t replaced my car battery yet, so I was about to call a cab.”

  “I could drop you off at your hotel. I mean, if you want.”

  Levi bit his lower lip, which Dominic tried and failed not to find arousing. Then he said, “Sure, thanks.”

  They kept the conversation light and casual as they drove Downtown, avoiding any discussion of yesterday’s events. Levi seemed troubled, but that was to be expected; he’d just seen a colleague commit suicide right in front of him. When they’d parted last night, he’d still been in shock.

  Yet Dominic couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to Levi’s melancholy. He parked his truck in the circular drive of Levi’s hotel and asked, “Is something bothering you? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

  Levi waved off the approaching valet. “Keith wasn’t the Seven of Spades,” he said, “but nobody believes me.”

  “I do,” Dominic said.

  Levi cast him a sharp glance. “Don’t say that just because we’re . . . Don’t say that just to appease me.”

  “I’m not.” Dominic turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt so he could face Levi fully. “Look, I didn’t bring this up yesterday because there’s no way for me to prove it now, but . . . You know the reason I initially suspected Chapman is because he looked like the man who bought the gift basket the Seven of Spades sent me.”

  Levi nodded.

  “Well, now I’m sure that wasn’t him. Yesterday I saw the way Chapman walked, and his gait was totally different. The man in the security video took long, graceful strides. Chapman had a much shorter, kind of shuffling gait. No similarities whatsoever.”

  “People can change the way they walk as a form of disguise,” Levi said, but Dominic could see the wheels turning in his head.

  “Sure, but what would be the point? If Chapman was trying to redirect suspicion, he wouldn’t have just altered his stride. He would have sent someone who looked nothing like him—different height and weight, different race, maybe a woman. The only reason for that man to look like Chapman in every aspect but one would be—”

  “If the real killer was setting him up,” Levi finished.

  Dominic shrugged. “It’s the only explanation. I believe you, Levi.”

  “You’re the only one who does.” Levi’s voice was thick with emotion.

  “Not for long. Someone like the Seven of Spades—they don’t kill out of passion, or for opportunity. It’s a craving, an urge, not just for the murder but for all of the ritual and recognition that goes along with it. The Seven of Spades has a taste for that now. Do you really think they’ll be able to stop?”

  “If they do, a serial killer will get away with framing an innocent man for five murders,” Levi said dully. “And if they don’t, then more people will die. Which one am I supposed to hope for?”

  They sat in silence. After a few seconds had passed, Dominic took Levi’s hand.

  “I know we agreed to take things slow,” he said, when Levi didn’t pull away. “I still think that’s a good idea. But maybe we could have dinner? I know this weekend may not be the best for you, but—”

  “What?”

  “Passover starts this Friday, right?” He’d double-checked to be sure.

  Levi stared at him for a moment. Then he lunged across the gearshift and grabbed Dominic’s face with both hands, capturing him in an aggressive kiss.

  Dominic gasped but quickly adjusted, sinking his fingers into Levi’s short curls and giving as good as he got. They traded deep, hungry kisses for a full minute before Levi pulled away, both of them panting. Dominic glanced through the window and saw the valet gaping at them with his mouth wide open.

  “Sorry.” Levi wiped his fingers over his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “You never have to apologize for that,” Dominic said, a little dazed.

  “We could go to dinner on Saturday—I don’t have any plans that’ll take me out of town. There’ll be things I can’t eat, but I should be able to find something that works at most restaurants.”

  “Okay. Great.” Dominic cleared his throat. “It’ll just be dinner, though.” As much as he would have liked to fuck Levi right here in the front seat of his truck, the situation hadn’t changed. Levi had just left his long-term boyfriend. Rushing things now would set them up for failure.

  “Just dinner. Absolutely.” As Levi reached for the door handle, he hesitated. “This isn’t really any of my business, but I’ve been wondering—have you ever considered becoming a private investigator?”

  Dominic, whose brain was focused primarily on the ache in his balls, just blinked. “What?”

  “I’m not trying to knock bounty hunting—”

  “Bail enforcement,” Dominic said with a grin.

  Levi rolled his eyes. “Bail enforcement, sure. It’s a necessary job, and it has its merits. But you’re capable of greater things than just chasing down fugitives for the rest of your life, Dominic. You’re smart, charismatic, a creative thinker . . . You could do so much more.”

  “I . . .” Dominic didn’t know if he was more taken aback by the idea of himself as a PI, or by the fact that Levi was complimenting him so effusively.

  “The licensing process requires a lot of experience, but between your time as a bounty hunter and your service with the Rangers, I think the licensing board would give you the green light. Might be something to consider, anyway.”

  “I’ll give it some thought, yeah,” Dominic said. He’d never pictured himself as a private investigator, but if the last week had taught him anything, it was that he needed to consider his future more seriously.

  Levi leaned in again, though this time he just pressed a kiss to Dominic’s cheek. “Call me about Saturday.”

  “I will.”

  Levi got out of the truck and went into the hotel, striding coolly by the astonished valet as if the man hadn’t just seen them making out like horny teenagers. When Dominic drove away, he couldn’t stop smiling.

  Levi was feeling cautiously optimistic as he unlocked the door to his hotel room. These past few weeks had thrown one horrible thing at him after another—his OIS, a rampaging serial killer, his breakup with Stanton, Keith’s suicide and its subsequent consequences. But this thing with Dominic, this new, fragile rapport that had the potential to become something great, gave him hope that he could come out on the other side of this terrible month intact.

  He entered the room, reaching
for the light switch. Something crinkled underneath his right foot.

  He went completely still. For several long moments he just stood there, paralyzed, crushed by a sense of foreboding more oppressive than anything he’d experienced before.

  Very slowly, he lifted his foot and looked down at the playing card he’d stepped on.

  It lay face up, the once innocuous symbology of the seven of spades turning his stomach. He crouched to pick it up, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he flipped it over and read the message scrawled on the other side.

  BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME

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