Pump Fake

by Michael Beck

  "He's not fussed about age, just so long as they're girls?" Bear opined.

  "No. You're wrong. Serial killers don't work so randomly," Fulton said. "They have very specific triggers."

  "Regardless of their ages, what's the link between the girls and the murdered men?" said Faith. "Cupid must see some tie between the girls and the good men, judging by the way he kills them. To cut the girls open, rip their hearts out and put them inside these men, that must say a lot about him."

  I grunted agreement. "Hate. It consumes him. He abhors girls. It would pay to check any males known to the victims accused or convicted of a physical assault against women, but especially girls. The assault could be either physical or sexual."

  "Are the girls related to the men?" Bear said.

  "No," said Fulton. "We haven't been able to link the girls to any of the men. The parents have never heard of the three men. We will keep on looking, but it appears the girls did not know the male murder victims."

  "What about locality?" I said.

  "They all lived in different suburbs, and none of the male victims lived near any of the girls," said Fulton.

  "Were any of the girls members of a church?"

  "What does that matter?"

  "I think Cupid might be targeting highly moral, respected men. Good men in other words. All three men were admired, generous and kind. Two were members of a church and one was committed to working with underprivileged kids. That is the one link between them. The girls might be the same. If they were members of a church, community group or youth group, perhaps Cupid might have some association with it. He could be a youth worker, a counselor or a therapist."

  "Damn, we hadn't thought of that. We'll run a check on each of the victims and see if there are any common organizations or groups they have in common. I don't know how we missed that. Good work."

  "Which girl's heart was found in Symonds again?"

  "Leah Spence, the thirteen-year-old. She went missing five days before Symonds was killed."

  "L645. Wasn't that engraved on the disc found inside her heart? The L might stand for Leah. The numbers might be related specifically to her."

  "Yes, we'll cross-check everything in her life against the code. We still don't have any idea what it means."

  "The time line interests me," said Bear. "Tan's parents were killed fourteen years ago. Symonds two years ago and Abrahams just recently. If Cupid kills every two years that means there are five more men and five more girls we haven't accounted for yet."

  Fulton's expression darkened. "I know. I did the math and I pray to God it's not exact. We can only hope that there were longer intervals than two years between murders. But we are concentrating on any deaths and disappearances that have occurred every two years since the Tanner killings. Especially where the disappearance of a teenage girl corresponds with the suspicious death by fire of a male."

  "At least if that's correct, it gives us two years before the next time he strikes to find him," Faith said.

  "If the media gets hold of this they'll go ballistic," said Bear.

  "We know and, at the moment, all of this needs to stay secret. We don't want to alert Cupid to where we are in the investigation."

  "Do you think Jade saw him?" Bear asked me quietly.

  "I think so. That's why he left her for dead."

  "I wonder if she remembers him. She was only six, and it was fourteen years ago."

  "If she saw him, she'll remember," I said.

  "She might even know him," said Faith. "That would explain why the victims always allow Cupid to come into their houses. He might be a friend."

  "But how could Cupid have been acquainted with all three victims?" Bear said. "They were all from different areas and backgrounds. They had nothing in common."

  "Then why does everyone trust him? This guy is a monster and people just invite him in?"

  "If Tan is right and Cupid is something like a counselor or youth worker, then people would trust him," said Fulton.

  "He's like a vampire," muttered Bear.

  "Vampire? What do you mean?" said Faith.

  "Vampires are only able to enter their victim's home if they are invited."

  "Vampires can be killed too," I said. "We just have to find him."

  CHAPTER 45

  I had been standing in the same spot for three hours. The temperature had dropped to twenty five degrees, it was snowing and I had just copped a snowball in the back of the neck. So much for the life of a professional athlete.

  We were playing the Steelers on a Monday night. It was ten-thirty. There were five minutes left in the last quarter and we were down by twenty points. Tonight we'd had our pants pulled down. Not the night for anything getting pulled down.

  "Did you see who threw that?" I wiped away the water that was running down my back.

  "The guy in the Steelers' hat." Decker was standing next to me, relaying plays to Hastings. Things weren't looking rosy for Hastings, who had dropped the last two games.

  I looked into the crowd. As far as I could tell there were about five thousand people wearing Steelers' caps sitting behind me. "Thanks," I said.

  Like all the players, I was wearing a long warm-up jacket over my uniform, along with hat and gloves. After tonight, I was thinking about asking Coach if a tent could be included in the player's equipment. But not tonight. Right now he was stalking the sideline like a polar bear that hadn't eaten all summer.

  "Give me a defense with some mother-fucking balls," he ranted. He then went on to question the parentage of the refs, our defense, our offense and our special teams. Coach wasn't one for showing favoritism.

  "Do you think Coach would mind if I had a double latte right now?" I said to Decker. "Purely to improve my physical performance, of course?"

  "Weren't you in Special Forces? I thought you guys were tough."

  "Tough? You have no idea. We had to fight between nine and three every day and only had every second weekend off."

  Decker eyed me up and down. "How did you get all those scars?"

  I watched as our defense gave up another first down. "I was captured."

  "They tortured you?"

  I nodded.

  "How did you get through that and not give up?"

  "My sister needed me."

  "That's all?"

  "One person is all it takes."

  "Jesus, did you see that?" Coach appeared at my shoulder. "My frigging defense is as solid as a piece of Swiss cheese." He jerked his chin toward Decker. "When is he going to be ready?"

  "Not long."

  "We need him on the field, not calling frigging plays."

  "What about the trouble he's been in?"

  "At this stage I don't care if he's shot a judge just so long as he can hit a receiver."

  The Steelers scored again and Coach stormed off to rip someone a new one. At least it had stopped snowing. Then, I realized, it hadn't stopped. Lamar was standing next to me.

  "How's it going, Lamar?"

  "Not good, I'm afraid."

  "Don't worry, we'll do better next week."

  He gave me a puzzled look.

  "No. JLo is about to give birth and I'm here. I might not be there in time."

  "I'm sorry?" I tried to get my head around this picture. Lamar and JLo? "You and JLo are having a baby?"

  "Yes. It's our fourth, but I still worry."

  "Excuse me? Your fourth?"

  "Yes, two beautiful mares and one stallion."

  Realization flooded over me. "JLo is a horse."

  "Of course. What else have we been talking about?" He regarded me strangely. "Mark, you really need to work on your listening skills." He shook his head and wandered away.

  As we trudged off the field after a twenty point drubbing, I heard someone call my name.

  Bob was leaning over the fence. "Can I talk to you later?"

  "Don't tell me. You know who really killed JFK?"

  She grinned. "No, but give me a week."

  I sighed.
"Meet me in the player's parking lot in about an hour. Look for the white Mercedes."

  "Okay, thanks." She disappeared into the throng. She had an hour. Time enough for her to solve the US unemployment crisis and still interview half a dozen players. I got tired just watching her.

  No one wanted to hang around after a big loss, so the locker room emptied quickly. I was waiting outside the locker room for Decker when Liz appeared. She was wearing a long black coat, boots and a Turbos cap.

  "Did you enjoy the game?" I asked her.

  "I think I've had more fun at the dentist."

  "We can put you to sleep as well as any dentist."

  "Yes, but even my dentist would score more than the Turbos did tonight."

  "I thought we were meeting you at Decker's car."

  "I wanted to talk to you away from Troy. I think you were right about that Thanksgiving weekend having something to do with what is happening to Troy."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Do you remember the date Ryan Franklin died?"

  "I think it was July 6 last year."

  "Ah huh. July 6 was the same day Troy got suspended for getting drunk at the team function and urinating in the fountain."

  "So, Ryan's death did hit him hard."

  "Yes, which means he was probably lying about Franklin and Maxwell being just acquaintances."

  "I knew that already. Franklin's room was plastered with photos of the four of them."

  "It also probably means that they were all close friends with Ashley."

  "Troy said he loved her."

  Liz was silent for a moment. "Well, that's good, isn't it? No one is going to harm someone he loves, is he? And he wouldn't let Maxwell and Franklin do anything to her either, would he? If he loved her, he would protect her."

  "If he was awake," I said quietly.

  Her eyes held mine. "Maxwell and Franklin did something to her while Troy was asleep in the other room?" she said at last.

  "It explains why Ashley would run out into a blizzard in the middle of the night with next to nothing on."

  "Yes. Which means that Troy had nothing to do with her death."

  "One thing wrong with that theory," I said.

  "What's that?"

  "If he loved Ashley and had nothing to do with her death, why would he help Maxwell and Franklin in the cover-up? Wouldn't he want to punish the people responsible for her death? I know I would."

  "They were his friends."

  "That shouldn't matter."

  Liz's eyes were almost luminous in their intensity. "Not everyone is like you, Tan. Some people can forgive or show mercy."

  "Some things can't be forgiven, Liz."

  "Tan, you're the hardest, most relentless person I've ever met. Don't you see that's not normal for ordinary people? People have to move on, get on with their lives. You never forget. You never forgive."

  "I can't change what I am, Liz."

  She shook her head, her eyes moist. "I know. I'm not asking you to."

  The locker room door opened and Decker emerged. Liz moved away from me and turned her back, wiping her eyes. Decker scrutinized us both. He'd opened his mouth to speak when Davis and Sam Jeffries came through the door. The moment passed and we all walked out to the parking lot, Jeffries and Davis doing all the talking.

  Jeffries and Davis disappeared towards the northern end of the lot. The game had finished an hour ago but supporters were still milling around. Steelers' fans, decked out in black and gold, were chanting and celebrating their win. As with most big losses, the Turbos fans had disappeared faster than mice in a room full of cats.

  Decker unlocked his Mercedes with his remote as I walked around to the passenger side. Three men in Steeler colors were leaning against the open trunk of a Jaguar parked next to us. They were all drunk, and weren't exactly hiding the fact that they had snagged a parking space in the players' reserved lot. Liz squeezed past them, opened her door and accidently struck the Jag.

  "Hey, watch out!" shouted the big man nearest her. "You silly cow! You've dinged my car."

  "Sorry, it was an accident," Decker said. "We'll pay for it."

  "Hey, look! You're fucking Troy Decker, aren't you?"

  "Send the bill to me and I'll take care of it." Decker took Liz's arm and guided her into the car.

  "Hey, not so fast. How do I know you'll pay?" Red-Face grabbed Liz's arm and pulled her out of the car. She cried out as her head struck the edge of the door.

  Decker shoved Red-Face away and began to help her up. Red-Face yelled and punched Decker in the back of the head. Decker toppled over on top of Liz.

  Red-Face kicked Decker in the kidney. "Fucking piece of New York shit! Think you can just shove people around?"

  His two friends jumped in front of me as I came around the back of the Mercedes. The taller swung a punch. I stepped in close, kneed him in the solar plexus. His breath exploded out as I brushed him aside, against the Mercedes.

  The other guy pulled a tire iron from the trunk and swung at me. I ducked and it struck my shoulder, numbing my arm. His second swing missed me and smashed the tail light.

  I kicked him in the kneecap and he buckled. I struck his temple with the edge of my hand and he toppled onto the blacktop.

  Red-face had his hands on the roofs of both cars and was kicking furiously at Decker and Liz. Decker, still lying half over Liz, was trying to stand and to protect her, at the same time.

  As I stepped between the cars, Red-Face spun, kicking at me. I blocked the kick with my forearms, grabbed his foot and heaved. He went flying backwards. His head struck the side mirror of the Jag, which shattered.

  Flashes went off behind me. I turned to see Bob and her photographer standing there.

  I helped Decker off Liz. He held his back, barely able to straighten. "I'm okay." He shrugged me off. "How's Liz?"

  I sat her up. "Liz, are you all right?"

  She opened her eyes. When she saw Red-Face on the ground behind me, she smiled wanly. "Thank god for the cavalry."

  "Can I help?" said Bob, at my shoulder.

  "Help her into the car. I'll look after Decker."

  He was leaning against the Jag, holding his left forearm.

  "Give us a look at the arm."

  "It's fine. Is Liz okay?"

  "Yeah, she's just a little shook up, that's all. Here, let me see."

  I took his arm and gently rolled his sweater sleeve up. There was an ugly black bruise and a swelling the size of a golf ball on his forearm.

  "We better get that x-rayed."

  "It's just bruised. It'll be all right."

  Our eyes met and I understood. "We can do the x-ray on the quiet so no one knows. I know a guy."

  He grimaced. "Thanks."

  "I'll drive," I said. "Get in before any TV crews get here." Bob had just closed the back door after putting Liz into the car.

  "Thanks," I said.

  She scanned the crowd that was beginning to gather around the fallen men. "Not too shabby for a fitness trainer. Remind me not to make you angry at me."

  "You won't mind doing me a favor then?"

  "Ah huh, like what?"

  I gestured towards the photographer who was taking photos of the three men lying on the ground.

  "Kill those photos. The last thing Decker needs right now is front page photos of him in a fight with rival supporters. The press will crucify him."

  Her eyes brightened as she looked from the photographer to me.

  I began to worry.

  "Those photos will be pretty valuable. Not printing them will kill Jack, but I might be able to do something." Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. "It won't be easy, mind you, and I might get a lot of flak from the paper, but for you, I suppose I could try." She gazed at me expectantly.

  "Okay. What's it going to cost me?"

  Her eyes gleamed. "Cost you? What do you take me for? We're friends aren't we? It won't cost you a cent."

  I waited.

  "But how about you take
me out to dinner? Just as a sign of appreciation."

  "You're going to blackmail a date out of me?"

  "Since when is having dinner with a pretty girl blackmail?"

  "And that's all you want?"

  She grinned mischievously at me. "So you think I'm pretty?"

  "Bob."

  "Well, a girl needs to know these things. We aren't mind readers you know."

  "I'm not too sure about that."

  She tilted her head to the side and regarded me with a small smile. I may not have known if women were mind readers but I was damn sure I wasn't. I had no idea what she was thinking.

  "It won't be a real date anyway," she said. "We've already slept together and now we are going out to dinner. We're reverse dating."

  "So soon, we won't even know each other?"

  "Now, you wouldn't like that, would you?"

  "Bob, how could I ever have existed not knowing you?"

  "Exactly."

  "Do you always get what you want?"

  "We'll see, won't we?" she said as she walked over to her photographer.

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  But she just smiled and kept walking.

  CHAPTER 46

  He wearily smoothed down the last of the wet cement and awkwardly climbed to his feet. His back creaked and it was a good minute before he could straighten. He'd thought he was doing a pretty good job but when he saw the depressions, he realized he had been kneeling in the wet cement the whole time. Great, he had left hand prints, too. He would have to re-do this section.

  He remembered the first time he had to use this room. It was funny, even though these days his memory was poor, he could remember something that happened fourteen years ago more clearly than something that happened today. He supposed it was easier to remember because the horror and disgust had been so great. The first child was always going to be like that.

  He had never planned on killing the child. He knew it was wrong, what he was doing. But he couldn't help himself. The child was so beautiful. He had not intended to kill. Why would you kill someone you love? They had had a beautiful time together and he must have fallen asleep. When he awoke he was covered in blood. Not just a little, but saturated in blood. The whole of the bed was red and he still had the knife in his hand. Then he saw the child next to him and cried out in horror. What had he done? He knew that he was sick and did things which he sometimes couldn't remember, but this? He never thought he was evil but now he knew better. How could an evil so large lurk inside and he never know it?