“Just get out there,” the chief muttered. “You’ll see soon enough.”
“I’ll be there in thirty,” Thomas rasped, his voice even scratchier than normal from fatigue. He needed some sleep, but conceded it would have to wait. “Hey, boss, can you phone Ben’s car and ask him to meet me out there after he drops off the ladies?”
“James still in Brooklyn?”
“Yeah,” Thomas growled. “I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him to get his ass back here.”
“No need. I’ll do it myself as soon as I radio Ben.”
“Much appreciated.”
Chapter 16
Monday, July 21 1:01 A.M.
“Her name is Monica Baker-Evans,” Ben O‘Rourke informed Thomas as he strode with him toward the dumpster from which her body had been retrieved. “Thirty-three, big-busted—same as the others. She was the Vice-President of Marketing at World Visions, Inc. in downtown Cleveland.”
“Any noticeable differences from previous victims?”
“He didn’t spend very much time with her. Preliminary tests indicate she was disposed of pretty quickly, or at least for Lucifer’s standards.”
“How quickly?”
Ben shrugged. “A few hours tops.”
Thomas frowned, thinking that telling bit of information over. “She was his first kill since losing Dr. Adenike. This was probably a quick fix for him, a way to stroke his own ego.”
“Yeah. Probably. Anyway, we’re pretty sure he picked her up via the Internet. It’s too bad Lucifer answered Miss Baker-Evans’s ad instead of one of the fake ones Leon Walker put in.” Ben sighed. “And I think that more or less brings you up to speed.”
Thomas raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry I’m running behind schedule. It took two cups of coffee and a shower to wake up,” he muttered. “Who found her, by the way?”
“Homeless dude. Did the chief tell you Monica was a redhead . . . sort of?”
An eyebrow inched up. He flashed his badge at one of the beat cops securing the scene as he walked between two squad cars. “Sort of? What the hell do you mean, ‘sort of’?”
Ben sighed. “You’re not gonna like this, Cavanah. You’re not gonna like it one damn bit.”
“Cavanah!” a male voice boomed out, interrupting the conversation.
Thomas’s head cocked to the left. His eyes narrowed inquiringly. “What are you doing here, boss?” he drawled as the police chief jogged toward him and Ben.
Chief Williams came to a halt in front of the detectives, his breath coming out in short pants. “Jesus, I’m outta shape,” he muttered. “Desk work does that to a man.”
Thomas snorted.
“We’ve got another lady missing,” Chief Williams informed him, coming straight to the point. “Normally we don’t respond to missing persons reports for twenty-four hours, but in lieu of that sick-ass warning Lucifer left behind for you, I’m taking all missing reports of any women like goddamn DEFCON 1—”
“Whoa! Back up.” Thomas frowned. “Lucifer left me a message?”
The chief’s bald head wrinkled.
“He just got here,” Ben muttered. “He hasn’t seen the victim yet.”
An ice-cold feeling lodged itself in Thomas’s spine. He began walking fast toward the dumpster, not waiting for any more explanations. He had no idea what it was he was about to see, but if Chief Williams was responding to every missing-persons report that came in, then . . .
He came to a halt before the dumpster, bile churning in his stomach in the way it had when he’d found Amy’s body six years ago. “Jesus Christ,” Thomas murmured, his eyes rounding in shock. “Holy son of God.”
Monica Baker-Evans had died as grotesquely as the others, the torture she’d undergone evident. But that wasn’t what had thrown Thomas for a loop. That wasn’t what was making his blood run cold.
The victim had sustained the same injuries, defacements, and brutalizations as the others before her had. She’d been slashed across the torso and legs hundreds of times. She’d been raped, most likely with use of a condom so no semen traces would be found. Her heart had been removed, probably while she was still alive. Same everything. Almost.
Ben had said that Monica Baker-Evans had once been a redhead—sort of. Now Thomas understood what the younger detective had meant by “sort of.” Her red pubic hair was still intact, but Lucifer had shaved her head bald, then used the long fiery tresses to tie the victim’s hands above her head. Taking the place of her natural hair was a very obvious light brown wig—a wig that resembled Nikki’s hair almost to a tee.
If that didn’t make the killer’s deadly intentions obvious enough, he had left two more calling cards behind. The first was a photograph of Nikki’s face. It had been sewn over Monica’s face with needle and thread, like he wanted to pretend that the victim was a different woman. Thomas could only pray that had been done to the victim postmortem, that she hadn’t had to live through that agony. (He would find out later that that had been the case.)
As if Lucifer had wanted to make certain that his messages weren’t somehow being misinterpreted, he had left behind a third and final calling card: A name badge had been pinned to Monica’s left breast, a badge that bore the name “Dr. Nicole Adenike.”
Thomas turned away from the corpse, unable to look at it any longer. “I’m taking Nikki away,” he rasped out to the chief. “Do you hear me? I’m taking her away.”
He came to her in the middle of the night, rousing her from a deep sleep. She’d been given a sedative to help calm her nerves, so she was having a difficult time opening her eyes.
“Nikki,” Thomas murmured. “Wake up, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”
“Nik,” Kim whispered, shaking her, trying to wake her. “You have to go now. Listen to me! Wake up!”
Nikki softly moaned, trying her damnedest to open her eyes. But she was so tired . . .
“Shit,” she heard Thomas mutter under his breath. “Have your stepmother carry down her bag,” he ordered Kim. “I’ll carry Nikki to the car.”
A moment later, two warm, powerful hands picked her up and cradled her against a steely chest. She fell back into a deep sleep, lulled by the steady, secure beat of Thomas’s heart.
Nikki groaned as she slowly came to. Her mouth was dry as cotton, her brain fuzzy like a cobweb. She opened her eyes against what felt to be terribly bright light, blinking a few times in rapid succession to keep them from watering.
“Where am I?” she said in a groggy tone as she carefully sat up. Her forehead wrinkled as it occurred to her that she was in the backseat of a station wagon. She stilled when her gaze came into contact with the back of Thomas’s head. “Detective?” she croaked, her voice sounding a bit guttural from sleep.
Their gazes met in the rearview mirror. “ ’Bout time,” he muttered.
Nikki’s eyes darted about, taking in the scenery of cornfields and hilly highway all around them. “Where are we going?” she asked. She was about to climb into the front seat, then stopped, noticing that she still had on her bedclothes. Her heartbeat went into overdrive. She glanced up, frowning at Thomas’s amused expression visible in the rearview mirror.
“I already saw your outfit when I carried you to the car,” he drawled. “No use going all shy on me now.”
She flushed, regardless of the fact that her bedclothes weren’t exactly risqué. The white and red striped cotton pajama bottoms she wore were loose-fitting and cinched together at the waist by a drawstring. That didn’t bother her.
What made her self-conscious of her body was the leaves-little-to-the-imagination spaghetti-strap top that went with the bottoms. It was made of sheer white cotton, came down to her waist, and clung to her braless bosom in a way she’d rather it didn’t. Making matters that much worse was the fact that her nipples weren’t in the mood to cooperate and go soft. They were standing as stiff as two embarrassingly awake soldiers wearing flashing neon signs around their necks that screamed, “Look at me! Look at me!”
/> She frowned as she glanced around for something to cover herself with.
“The suitcases,” Thomas murmured, drawing her attention back to the rearview mirror, “are on top of the car.” He grinned, the first time she could recall seeing him do that.
Nikki harrumphed, and decided she wouldn’t let him goad her. Decided, too, to ignore the way her heartbeat had kicked up at that grin.
“So,” she said in a professional, to-the-point tone, “care to explain just what in the hell is going on here?”
Fifteen minutes later, a clingy top no longer registered as significant to Nikki’s horrified mind. Then again, there was very little that registered as significant after listening to the disturbing facts Thomas had laid out for her.
“I think I’m too shocked to speak,” Nikki whispered, now seated next to the detective in the front seat. “I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t understand . . .” She blinked, turning her face to Thomas. “Why me?” she asked. “I want to understand—”
“Nikki,” he interrupted. Thomas sighed as he watched the road. “Damn near every victim of a sex crime on earth has asked herself that question. Don’t look for a logical answer. You won’t find one.”
“But . . .” She swallowed, getting her salivary glands to start working again. “There has to be a reason. Do I remind him of somebody or something, do you suppose?”
“Maybe,” Thomas replied. “Maybe not. What you have to understand is that what’s logical to you and me won’t necessarily be logical to him, and vice versa. And sometimes, as hard as it is to fathom, there aren’t any reasons. Sometimes wackos like him do what they do simply because it gets their dicks hard, excuse my bluntness.”
Nikki blew out a breath as she settled back against the seat. “I feel like I’m living a nightmare,” she murmured. “My life went from wonderful to horrible in the blink of an eye.”
“But you’re still alive,” Thomas said softly. “That’s what’s important here.”
Something about the way he’d said that awakened a suspicion in Nikki. Not in a bad way, like he’d harm her or anything, but in a way that made her think perhaps the detective wasn’t as much a bystander in all this as he let on.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I’m still alive.” She cleared her throat. “And what’s more, I intend to stay that way.”
Silence ensued for the next ten minutes. Thomas watched the road, Nikki watched cornfields. Millions of thoughts pounded away at her brain, all of them competing for attention.
What was going to happen now? Would she be forced into hiding for the rest of her life? What about her apartment? Her job? Would she be allowed to see Kim? Were Kim and Megan safe back at the Cox estate?
But more than anything else, she thought about Richard. Who was he? Nikki asked herself for the hundredth time. And why was he so obsessed with her in particular?
She forced herself to relive the night she’d been attacked. She hated reliving it, but she knew she had to. If she could just remember something significant . . . there had to be something there. But it had been so dark out that night, and the shadows had been pitch black. She hadn’t been able to make out much about Richard except . . .
“Those eyes,” she murmured.
“Huh?” Thomas looked from the road long enough to glance at her. “You say something, Doc?”
“His eyes.” She cocked her head and looked at Thomas. “They were so blue. Too blue. Feral, almost.”
The detective’s body seemed to still. He chewed that information over for a moment, looking lost in his own thoughts. “Too blue,” he slowly repeated. “Interesting.”
“I feel like a trapped rat.” Kim sighed as she stared absently at Megan, her stepmother’s hands wringing in her lap, where she was seated in a chair across from Kim’s bed. “I doubt he wants either of us, but I’m still freaked out.”
“As am I, dear,” Megan agreed tremulously. “Detective Cavanah is fairly certain Lucifer couldn’t have followed Ben when he brought us here, but ‘fairly certain’ isn’t precisely what I wanted to hear. Unfortunately, having officers parked outside isn’t lessening my anxiety, either.”
Kim snorted at that. “If we leave Ohio, we give up police protection. If we stay, we give up sanity. This sucks.”
“Yes,” Megan agreed. “It’s like being married to your father all over again.” Her blue eyes widened. “Oh goodness. I’m sorry, Kimmie. What I meant was—”
“Megan,” Kim said softly. “Quit apologizing. Okay?” She blew out a breath as she flopped back down onto the duvet. “He was an asshole and we both know it.”
“Well,” Megan said in that soft, demure voice of hers. “That was one of his better points, dear.”
Before she knew what came over her, Kim found herself laughing. “That was almost, well . . . that was downright funny, Megan.”
Megan blushed, but grinned back. She watched Kim for a drawn-out moment, her eyes twinkling. Her smile slowly faded as she stared at her stepdaughter, her expression serious. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good mother,” she whispered. “I should have grown a backbone and learned how to protect both of us from Roger. I should have left him and took you with me.”
Kim’s nostrils flared. She flipped over onto her side, giving Megan her back. “You and I were getting along just fine for once,” she bit out. “Why bring this up now?”
Megan was quiet for a long while. So long, in fact, that Kim had begun to wonder if she’d left the room. But then she spoke, her voice even softer than normal.
“I wasn’t able to have children of my own,” she said reflectively. “Like you, I was raised in a wealthy household, but back in my day the women’s movement was barely off the ground. I wasn’t pushed toward a career or finding an identity outside of a man. Not being able to have children . . .” She sighed. “It was like wearing a scarlet letter. When I wasn’t able to conceive after ten years of trying, my first husband, Frank, divorced me for a younger woman who could. After that, my parents pushed me toward the first wealthy man that wanted me.”
Kim listened, but said nothing.
“When I met Roger,” Megan continued, her voice sounding wistful, “he was very kind to me. Very charming, very handsome and elegant.” Kim could hear the smile in her voice. “And when he introduced me to you, this blondehaired, blue-eyed beauty who looked like the little girl I’d always dreamed of having . . . I was lost forever.”
Kim closed her eyes, swallowing against the lump of emotion in her throat.
“You had just turned fifteen, but you were so small back then you looked more like ten. Do you remember?” Megan didn’t expect her to respond, so she kept talking. “I knew you were older, so I could never replace your dead mother in your eyes, God rest her soul, but I wanted so much for us to be close.”
She paused for a moment before continuing.
“I don’t think Roger wanted that, though,” Megan murmured. “In his childish mind, if you and I were close, it took away attention from him, made him no longer the center of the universe or something.” Her voice sounded far away. “I’d never been obliged to deal with a man so overwhelming as Roger before,” she quietly admitted. “I might have been thirty-four, but I was a naïve thirty-four. When he was abusive, or took to other women’s beds, or any of his other various activities, I blamed myself. I thought it was something I was doing wrong. If I were thinner, or younger, or prettier, or could have babies . . .”
Kim took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She blinked back tears, understanding only too well how good her father had been at laying blame.
Megan rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you alone now,” she said softly. She sighed as she stared at Kim’s back. “I know that you’re angry with me, as you have every right to be, but I’d like you to consider giving me another chance.”
Kim’s teeth sank into her lower lip.
“I’d like to be a part of your life, if even only a small part. I’ll take anything you’re willing to give.” Megan pau
sed. When next she spoke, her voice sounded a bit shaky. “I love you,” she breathed out. “If you never believe anything else I say, please believe me when I say that I love you.”
Kim closed her eyes as she drew in a tug of air. She waited until she heard the door click shut before she let the tears flow freely.
Chapter 17
Monday, July 21 7:15 A.M.
By the time they made it to Cincinnati, Thomas was exhausted. The drive was only four and a half hours, but given how sleep-deprived he was it felt a lot longer. And yet despite the extreme fatigue, his thoughts had become plagued by Nikki’s mention of too-blue eyes. He knew he’d have to check into some things before he could collapse.
“Cincinnati,” Nikki said, bemused. “I was expecting us to hole up in some ramshackle cabin in the Ozarks.”
He grinned. “Cops only do stupid things like that in the movies. In real life, we like to have other cops within spitting distance.” He turned his head long enough to wink. “Not to mention running water, multiple phone lines, and food you can order in rather than having to hunt it for yourself.”
Nikki chuckled at that, her eyes taking in the semi-crowded streets as the nondescript Taurus station wagon made a left-hand turn. “I’ve never been here before,” she admitted. “Hey, maybe we can go ride the roller coasters at King’s Island while we’re here? I’d pay for it,” she said quickly when he frowned. “I wouldn’t expect the CPD to pick up the tab or anything.”
“It’s not the budget issue,” Thomas muttered. “It’s the safety issue.”
“Oh. I see.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “In other words, we might as well be in the Ozarks.”
Thomas pulled the station wagon into a high-rise complex, bypassed the main door, and headed directly toward the back. “Hey,” he said softly. “Let me catch this guy, then I’ll take you on any roller coaster ride you want. All right, Doc?”
Jaid Black Page 13