Urban Renewal (Urban Elite Book 1)

by Suzanne Steele

  “Part of the reason I hired you is your fight training. You just got promoted from just being our cyber security specialist to also being her bodyguard. I expect you to take your job seriously.”

  I look at Max but direct my parting words at Spider before I walk out to my car. “She may be a complete pain in the ass, but I like the kid and Valerie does too. Believe me, you do not want to get on Valerie’s bad side. Even though we aren’t married, the whole happy wife, happy life definitely applies here.”

  Max interrupts me, clearly perturbed with the idea of hanging out with her new nemesis. “I don’t need a bodyguard, and I damn sure don’t need him.”

  I resist the temptation to laugh at the cocky look he directs her way. It appears Max has met her match in Spider, and vice versa. Maybe I’ll let Cash in on this new development. No doubt the guys at Undercover Elite would set up a betting pool in no time, trying to guess how long it’ll take for Spider to be off the market. If I was a betting man, I’d wager he already is.

  I wait until I’m in the car to dial up Valerie and tell her to meet me at the coroner’s office. No matter how much I like Herb, I fucking hate going to see him. The heavy oppressive atmosphere of the morgue – and, Jesus, that smell -- is something I can never get accustomed to. I wonder how he works there twelve to sixteen hours a day. It would drive me crazy to be glued to one spot with only corpses for company. Back when I was a beat cop, I jumped at the promotion to detective when the opportunity presented itself. It wasn’t about the pay raise for me. The allure of the promotion was the autonomy it gave me. No price can be put on the freedom to forge your own destiny.

  I turn off Broadway onto Barret Avenue and pull into a parking space at the side of the building that houses the coroner’s offices. On the elevator ride to the seventh floor, I wonder what new information Herb has for me. As much as I want to believe the prints on the fingers of that severed arm aren’t Chineka’s, my gut’s telling me they are. And my gut is never wrong.

  The thing that baffles me is serial killers normally stay within their own race as far as kills; this guy is all over the map. Herb’s already confirmed that the leg belonged to a Caucasian woman. No word yet on the ear, but today I expect that he’ll tell me the severed arm is from an African-American woman. And I won’t be surprised if he has a name for me, too.

  Nothing about this guy is lining up with typical profiling statistics and it only serves to make him more dangerous. When you can’t pin down a clear profile on a suspect, you have no idea what to expect. Predicting their next move becomes a crapshoot. Expect the unexpected.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Max

  “What kind of fight training have you done?” I ask, trying to break the ice as I watch Spider work. He cuts his eyes at me skeptically and I guess he decides against giving me a smart ass answer.

  “I’m a trained MMA fighter. I got out of it because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life getting my head bashed in. I watched my best friend get turned into a vegetable, and after that I got off the underground fighting circuit.”

  “Would you be willing to train me?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Like I don’t have enough babysitting to do where you’re concerned.”

  “Hey, screw you! I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you babysitting me or anything else, for that matter.”

  “Really? ‘Cause I don’t recall offering you anything else. What did you have in mind?” he drawls as he leans back in the chair like he owns the place, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, you talk like there’s a chance in hell that I’d ever fuck you,” I sputter indignantly.

  His body goes completely still for a long, ominously quiet moment. Then he stands and crosses the room to where I’m still sitting on the edge of my bed. As he leans over me, I lean back until my shoulder blades hit the mattress and his hands settle by either side of my head. As his lips graze the shell of my ear, his voice is little more than a growl, “Baby, you couldn’t survive me fucking you.”

  My mouth drops open in shock and it takes a moment for me to get my bearings. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth!” I say with as much dignity as I can muster while lying flat on my back.

  “Too little, too late, babe. Don’t try to play coy now,” he chuckles as he straightens and walks over to lean on the edge of the desk.

  “Get out! And by the way…I’m never coy.” I point toward the door for emphasis.

  “Ahh, suck it up, sweetcakes. You started this shit, don’t act like we don’t both know exactly what you meant just now. Now, come on over here and write psycho boy an e-mail and send it. In other words, do your job.”

  “You’re a bastard,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

  “You have no idea.” There’s that smartass smile of his again. I don’t care how hot this guy is, he’s an arrogant asshole and I don’t like him. I walk over to the desk and sit down, ignoring him as I start typing.

  I guess the first thing I should do is apologize for not considering your feelings. I really didn’t think about the fact that this is ultimately your story I’m telling, I realize now that my first blog post should have included an invitation to you for input. Otherwise it’s just a bunch of words, right?

  In all fairness, if you expect me to take your feelings into account then it’s only fair that you consider mine too. That necklace is the last thing my mother gave me right before she died. If you could find it in your heart to give it back to me, I’d be willing to meet you, even though I know I’m not supposed to. It would also give you a chance to tell your side of the story.

  What should I call you? Riddler? That’s what they’re calling you in the press now, so that’s what I’ll do unless you want me to call you something else.

  I don’t know why you’re killing these girls, but I want to try and understand what your motivation is. Once again, those pearls you have are precious to me. Please give them back.

  Sincerely, Max

  I don’t like being nice to the man who stole my mother’s pearls and is on a killing spree, even though I know it’s all for show. Everything in me wants to tell him the truth: that I fucking hate him and that I’ll work till my dying day to see that he’s incarcerated. I just have to remember that I’m setting this guy up and it’s going to take time.

  Patience isn’t a virtue I’ve mastered in my life. Having to work with Spider isn’t doing anything to help my mood either. I’m having to give in at every turn when everything in me wants to fight.

  “There… that should do it. Now, get out of my room, Spider. I don’t know you, so I don’t know how you talk to other women, but I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to let you verbally abuse me.”

  “Verbally abuse you? Now, that’s funny.” He languidly pulls his long frame from the chair and strolls toward the door before saying, “Shouldn’t dish it out if you can’t take it, baby.”

  The ding signifying I have a new message stops him in his tracks. He strides back to my desk and peers over my shoulder at the screen. I can feel him reading along with me and he smells really good and it’s distracting as hell.

  Oh… so now I have your attention. You’re no different than any other woman. You ignore me and then, when I have something you want, suddenly I’m worth your time.

  The press has started calling me The Riddler, but you and I both know that you started it. Does it upset you to have to share me with all those other reporters? To know you have competition? To have to let them use the pet name you’ve given me?

  As far as why I’m killing people, what do you want me to say? I could tell you I have mommy issues but I dealt with those by killing her years ago. I terrified her so bad she put a deadbolt on her bedroom door, but it didn’t stop me.

  If you’re looking for some psychobabble bullshit to make you feel better, you won’t find any here. There’s no deep, dark psychological reason why I do what I do. I like to watch th
e blood spray, I like how it feels when my saw cuts through flesh, muscle, ligament, and bone.

  It’s simple, Max. Seeing the terror in a woman’s eyes when she realizes I’m going to kill her? Watching her abandon all hope as I push the knife into her heart? I’m more sentimental than you probably give me credit for. That’s a special moment for me. But ultimately…I just really like killing. Well, let me rephrase that. I like killing and then… I particularly enjoy watching people like you try to piece together a puzzle they’ll never figure out. You should be very careful, little girl. Tricking me will get you more trouble than you’re bargaining for.

  Now back to you…I have your pearls and I’m not quite ready to part with them. Before it’s over, I’ll have your pearls and I’ll have you, too. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy our special time together as I lead my little lamb to slaughter.

  I’ll leave you with a thought. ‘The darkest light is only seen by those who understand its true obscurity.’

  Goodbye for now, little Max

  “Well, shit,” Spider mutters from behind me. I feel his hand squeeze my shoulder reassuringly, but I shrug him off and barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up. I crumble to the floor and just try to just breathe. It doesn’t matter how strong or brave I am. I’m on a madman’s radar now.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Jack

  I listen as Herb Foster gives me the news I’ve been dreading. “The fingerprint came back as Chineka Howard’s, I’m sorry, Jack. I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

  He continues when I don’t respond. “Okay, then. Well, you have two joints at the shoulder: the glenohumeral is your ball-and-socket junction. The second joint is the junction of your collar bone and shoulder blade, the acromioclavicular joint. Your killer cut at the ball-and-socket junction.

  “Though knowing this guy has medical training is troubling, that isn’t what bothers me the most. On the leg that was found, your killer used a power circular saw, but not here. No, on this limb he used a fourteen-inch band medical bone saw. You can see the serrated edges here, and they match the marks that type of medical saw would leave.

  “It takes a hell of a lot of work to saw through bone, even if you’re cutting at the joint, so your guy is no lightweight. The fact that he used a power circular saw previously tells me he wanted to get the job done quickly. Now, on this particular limb he used a medical saw and did it by hand. To put it simply, it appears your killer is evolving, honing his skills, making it more personal. He wanted to take his time so he could enjoy dismembering the body.”

  “I don’t think so--” Valerie cuts in. We both look up in surprise to see her standing behind us, listening. “I think he cut up the bodies at the same time and froze the parts, using different tools to throw us off. This guy is exactly what we pegged him for in the beginning -- the game is as important and enjoyable to him as the kill is. He wants everyone to know he’s smarter than they are. This guy has something to prove, I’m just not sure who he wants to prove it to.”

  How sick is it that I get turned on by the intuition she brings to an otherwise macabre discussion of bones and gore?

  “I agree,” I say slowly as I consider the points she just made. “I think she could be right, Herb. He could be deliberately throwing us off by not sticking to one signature. He’s smart enough to not only have some medical training, but also a knowledge of the inner workings of law enforcement. It horrifies me to think there’s possibly some doctor out there who’s living a double life.”

  Herb nods thoughtfully, then shakes his head before continuing, “Well, that brings me to my second point: the first body part hadn’t been frozen. Conventional freezers are kept at somewhere around -20 degrees Celsius so it doesn’t stop the decomposition of flesh. They aren’t like bio research labs that use liquid nitrogen to freeze cells and such. To put it simply, the leg you found was placed there quite soon after the death of the woman—the flesh was in the early stages of decomposition. On the other hand, this arm was farther along in the decomposition process even though it was frozen. For whatever reason, your killer is making it very hard to determine if the bodies were cut up on the same day, or for that matter, if they were killed on the same day. The profiling I’ll leave to you guys. Although I’d like to believe I’ve learned something about the criminal psyche over the year, it’s best to leave such things to the professionals who are trained in those matters.”

  “Team work, Herb, it’s all about teamwork,” I tell him. “You know I value your opinion. Now, if these women died on the same day, he had to keep them somewhere until he was ready to kill them. If that’s the case he abducted them. Maybe we can put the word out on the street and see if anyone’s escaped a close call.”

  He nods in agreement. “I think it would be smart to talk to the working girls you know. They talk to each other. If any of them have escaped an abduction or had a close call, they’ll have put the word out.”

  I take a deep breath and rub my forehead, wincing as I look ahead to the conversation I can’t put off. “Valerie and I will talk to the girls we know and see what we can find out. As much as I hate to, I’m going to have to break the bad news about Chineka to Lady Luck. I’d rather have Valerie with me when I do it. Lady was close to Chineka and she’s going to need a shoulder. Valerie is better at that kind of thing.”

  After we say our goodbyes to the coroner, Valerie and I agree that she’ll drop her car off at the precinct and ride with me to talk to Lady. I open my car door and pause before getting in, my forearm resting along the top of the door. I nod pensively and say, “I think it may be time for us to question Dr. Liam Chambers.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, my love, I couldn’t agree more.”

  I tuck my chin and cut my eyes over to her and not surprised to see her unwavering warm gaze on me. “What?”

  “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”

  “You know I hate this shit, baby. Death notifications, even when it’s not next of kin.”

  She comes close and cups my jaw in her hand in a rare moment of PDA. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know.”

  I give her a long look that says more than my awkward words ever could. She smiles softly as her thumb slowly grazes the stubble along my jaw. I shamelessly watch her hips swaying as she walks to her car and give her a lopsided grin when she glances over her shoulder to make sure I’m looking.

  Devil woman. And all mine. I avert my eyes and clear my throat as I slide into the driver’s seat. So she caught me looking. That’s alright – because she was looking, too.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Max

  Spider holds my hair back for me as I puke again. I finally finish and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before I turn around and look at him. “Does this mean we’re friends?” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Damn straight it does. Nobody is going to terrorize my partner. You’re my responsibility now.” I start to disagree but he stops me, saying, “Listen, I might be a major league asshole but this guy thinks he can pick on you because you’re a chick. He’s going to have to come through me. I don’t take kindly to bullies.”

  “I’m a big girl.”

  “Too late, sweets. This guy’s pissed me off. Lucky for us, he’s underestimating your abilities.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you’re all for a little ‘girl power’. You’ll fit right in around here. It’s sort of a requirement.”

  His eyes twinkle as he shakes his head, “In this line of work it isn’t about male or female. It’s about geek power, babe.”

  That makes me laugh, which makes him frown down at me.

  “What?” he says, flexing his bicep. “Is it hard for you to believe a guy who looks like me can be a geek?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Brush your teeth and meet me back out here so we can catch this ass wipe.” He offers me a hand, pulling me up off the cold tile. Maybe working with Spider won’t be so bad.

>   He turns at the bathroom door and looks back at me, his expression grim. “He made a mistake today. I learned more about him in that last e-mail than I have since we started.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re looking for a man who killed his mother. There can’t be too many of those around.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Jack

  I use our drive time during our search for Lady Luck to address all the things I can’t say to anyone else but Valerie. She’s always been my sounding board and is unfailingly patient when I need to think out loud about a particularly challenging case.

  “It’s so fucked up that our killer could be a doctor who’s actively practicing medicine. I can’t imagine living a double life than encompasses such extreme expressions of good and evil.”

  “People do it every day, Jack, just not to that extent. Alcoholics have family members call in to their place of employment when they’re hung over. Women wear heavy makeup and sunglasses to hide the bruises inflicted by their high profile husbands.”

  “That’s my point. Those are typical things that manifest themselves and have to be hidden. What traits are rearing their ugly head in our killer’s life?”

  “What do you mean? Like what dysfunctional behaviors are cropping up that he has to hide?”

  “Exactly! Does he have breakdowns when he’s behind the privacy of his own four walls? Has he always been this way or is this the result of a psychotic break?”

  “Well…I would think when he gets the itch to kill, he would show some kind of symptom. Maybe he gets angry, depressed, hypersexual.”

  “But he isn’t raping these women.”

  “We don’t know that. He hasn’t graced us with a torso yet. Off the top of my head, I’d say you’re probably correct. He’s more intrigued with exercising control over the authorities than he is the women.”