Malice

by C. M. Sutter

  “So, did you guys catch that news segment from this afternoon?” I asked.

  J.T. responded. “Yeah, a memorial was set up in front of Sarah Cummings’s house. They ran the broadcast from a few houses away so they could zoom in on the crowd and the fact that the For Sale sign had been taken down. In my opinion, the media is trying to instill fear in the community so every family tunes into their station to get the latest information. I’m sure part of it is because we haven’t made a formal statement to the public yet.”

  “We didn’t have anything to give them.”

  Hardy furrowed his brows at me. “And we still don’t.”

  Chapter 29

  Ed was pleased with his pick. Marilyn LaSota, a female name chosen out of a hat, was the next victim who would feel the burn of Ed’s knife piercing her flesh. Ed studied the map and the best route in and out of her neighborhood. Her home, advertised as a newer private retreat, was the last one at the end of a cul-de-sac in a recently built subdivision. Vacant lots still dotted the neighborhood.

  Easy pickins.

  Ed would make the first round in the truck to drop off the sign, then exit her street, park several blocks away, and return on foot.

  According to the PeopleSeeker website, Marilyn was a fifty-six-year-old divorcee who lived alone. He tapped the computer keys to pull up a mapped grid of all the houses in a three-block area of her home that were armed with alarm systems. Hers wasn’t.

  “Perfect.” Ed checked the time and still had an hour to kill. He wanted to make sure it was late enough that most people had settled in for the night. No barking dogs or teenagers getting home at their ten o’clock curfew, just peace and quiet. He’d slip in and out, unseen and unheard.

  He clicked the porch light, slid into his sneakers, and made his way to the shed. Inside, he felt for the string and pulled it. The single-car garage-sized room lit up.

  “Aah, the sign turned out perfectly if I do say so myself.” He admired his artistic skills and the colorfully painted board as he tugged on the eye bolts screwed into the top. They were lodged deep into the wood and secure. He wrapped the sign in a sheet, carried it out of the shed, and placed it in the bed of the truck.

  Back inside the house, Ed clicked on the television set. A half hour more and he’d leave. The drive to Marilyn’s home would take twenty minutes at that time of night. He thought about the news station that had run a segment in front of Sarah Cummings’s house earlier that day.

  What channel was that?

  He remembered seeing the station’s logo on the microphone as the reporter handed it back to her assistant.

  Oh yeah, Channel 9.

  Ed scrolled through the stations. The Channel 9 Evening News was already broadcasting and airing the weekend’s weather update. He rose from the couch and grabbed two cheese sticks out of the refrigerator. They would hold him over until he returned from his task. Back on the couch, he waited through six commercials before the news resumed. He mindlessly bit into the cheese sticks as he stared at the screen.

  “Whoa, there’s the segment from this afternoon.” Ed turned up the volume and listened as the reporter talked. He mouthed her words as if he had memorized everything she said. Her piece ended, and the cameraman panned the house, the enormous array of flowers and cards, and finally the crowd. “Shit!” Ed stood and threw a sofa pillow across the room, knocking a glass off the kitchen counter. It exploded into shards that slid across the floor. “There I am, front and center on the damn screen.” He paced back and forth and muttered. “I thought I walked away before the cameraman zoomed in on everything. What if that FBI woman watches this and recognizes me? So what. Plenty of other people were there too, showing their respects. There’s no reason for her to be suspicious, and that’s if she even sees it. She probably forgot what I look like, anyway.” Ed dug his fingertips into his scalp and cursed his stupidity. “Damn women, damn women, damn women. It’s all their fault, and they’re going to pay.”

  He burst out the front door and climbed into the truck before slamming the door at his side. Everything he needed was next to him on the passenger seat. He set his phone’s navigation to end at 1663 Fremont Court. Marilyn had less than an hour to live.

  Chapter 30

  “Let’s call it a night, agents. My wife doesn’t even wait up for me anymore. I’m surprised she still remembers my name. There isn’t much we can do about Stewart until we get the warrant in the morning. All he did was open up an enormous secondary problem that doesn’t solve the first.”

  I fisted my yawn. “Yeah, sounds good. I emailed that short list to Spelling already, so I guess we’re done for the night. He’s dumping Stewart’s scheme on the SEC first thing Monday. It’ll be their mess to figure out. Just so you know, Spelling doesn’t think these cases are related.”

  “Great, I guess we’re back to ground zero.” J.T.’s stomach began to rumble, so he gave it a rub. “Apparently, we forgot to eat dinner tonight.”

  “We sure did. Let’s hit a drive-through on our way back to the hotel.”

  The three of us walked the hallway toward the building’s main entrance.

  “Cap!”

  We turned to the voice behind us. Sergeant Lyles was speed walking our way.

  With his hand deep in his pocket, Hardy jiggled his keys and pulled them out. “What’s up, Lyles?”

  “Patrol just found Jackie Stern’s car.”

  “Shit.” Hardy raised his brows at us. “Can dinner wait?”

  J.T. tipped his head toward the double glass doors. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Lyles climbed into the driver’s seat of the nearest cruiser, and Hardy took the passenger side. Lyles stuck his head out the window and looked back as we climbed into the Explorer. “Follow me.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after we bore down the freeway behind the cruiser, its lights and siren engaged, we finally exited onto a surface street. We followed Lyles for five more blocks and into what looked to be an older, somewhat run-down neighborhood.

  Brake lights flashed in front of us, and the cruiser turned in to a parking lot. I unlatched my seat belt as J.T. brought the Explorer to a stop. “Looks like we’re here.”

  We joined Lyles and Hardy next to their car. Lyles pointed. “These buildings are tenements that were constructed in the late sixties. At the time, they were fine for newly married couples, guys returning from Vietnam, and people working at low-paying jobs. Now, the area is a heroine hot spot and riddled with criminals and prostitutes.” He jerked his head to the right. “Anyway, that’s enough of a jog down memory lane. Here’s her car. Patrol noticed it when they did their nightly rounds.”

  “Anyone look inside yet?” Hardy asked.

  “No, Cap. They were waiting for your go-ahead.”

  As we approached Jackie’s orange Fiesta, Lyles illuminated the way with his flashlight. Hardy was the first to slip on gloves. He jerked on the door handle. “Locked.” He walked around to the passenger side and pulled on the door. “Same over here. Lyles, grab your punch and pop the driver’s side window.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lyles walked back to his cruiser then returned moments later. With a tap of the emergency rescue tool, he shattered the window glass, reached inside, and unlocked the door.

  Hardy pointed at the back of the car. “Pop the trunk.”

  Lyles pulled the lever along the footwell, and the trunk release engaged.

  “Ready?” J.T. asked.

  We nodded. Lyles shined the light, and Hardy lifted the trunk lid. I held my breath. We let out a simultaneous sigh. The trunk was empty.

  “Let’s get the crime lab’s flatbed out here to pick up the car. May I?” I reached for the flashlight and shined it into the interior of the Fiesta. “At least it doesn’t look like anything violent has taken place inside. How many units do you think this complex has?”

  Lyles rubbed his chin then pointed. “These are projects, Agent Monroe, and they cover several blocks. I’m guessing there are over a hundred units in total. The
re are at least twenty buildings. That’s a lot of interviews to conduct.”

  “I agree, and that means we’re going to need help. We’ll probably be here until sunup.”

  Chapter 31

  Ed inhaled deeply through his nose to calm himself. He closed his eyes and slowly blew out the air through his mouth. The therapist he had been court-ordered to see during the divorce proceedings recommended those techniques to calm his outbursts of rage. Sometimes it helped and other times it didn’t, but Ed couldn’t work effectively if he went in half-cocked.

  The male voice on his GPS told him to turn right at the next set of lights. Ed rolled to a stop at the red light, checked for oncoming cars, and continued on. A quick left and one more right took him to the intersection of Grange Street and Fremont Court. He made the last turn and followed Fremont to the end of the cul-de-sac, where he killed his headlights. There, standing alone, was the home of Marilyn LaSota. Her nearest neighbor was four lots away.

  Yeah, I can work around that. Now I just have to find the For Sale sign.

  Ed coasted along the curb at a snail’s pace as he looked for the sign. He squinted at every shape, trying to make out its form. Shadows from low-hanging limbs fooled him while others blew slightly in the breeze. He tapped the brakes lightly and slowed to a stop. Ed shifted into Park then rolled down the passenger side window. A familiar noise caught his attention.

  That’s the sound of the sign swaying.

  Ed scooted across the bench seat and climbed out the passenger side. That door, with less cancerous rust, didn’t creak as badly as the driver’s door. He stretched his arms and reached into the truck bed to catch the end of the sheet that the sign was wrapped in. Ed pulled it toward him and lifted it out. With the sign in his arms, he followed the sound. There, along her flower garden and hidden slightly from above by limbs, stood the For Sale sign. Ed dipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out the flashlight. He made a circle with the beam and checked his surroundings. It was time to get to work.

  With the sign eased off the hooks, Ed set it on the ground and replaced it with his own. He carried the original sign to the truck and wrapped it in the sheet. With that sign lying flat in the truck bed, Ed climbed in the passenger door, scooted across to the driver’s seat, and quietly slipped away. Back at Grange, he switched on the headlights and continued to the next intersection where he turned right. At the end of that street, he killed the engine and stepped out before locking the truck.

  Walking parallel to Fremont Street on Vine would prove safer for Ed. Even if innocent eyes took the time to peer out of their windows, not a soul would be seen on Marilyn’s cul-de-sac. He cut through vacant lots that hadn’t been excavated yet and finally arrived at Marilyn’s backyard. Ed was only fifty feet from the side door that opened into her garage. He slipped on his gloves. Short bursts of the flashlight gave Ed just enough illumination to see the door. He pulled a tension wrench and a paper clip from his pocket and slid them into the knob’s locking mechanism. He used an up-and-down scrubbing motion, and it took only a minute for the door’s lock to release. The flashlight guided Ed around Marilyn’s car as he slunk through the garage to the interior door. He gave it a slow turn. It was open. Ed slipped off his shoes before entering the laundry room and tucked them under his arm. Standard new houses had floor plans that usually led from the laundry room to the kitchen. Beyond the kitchen would be a family room, dining room, and a hallway. He’d find Marilyn in one of those bedrooms. Ed thought about Sarah’s house, where the layout was almost identical.

  With a quick burst of light, Ed checked the kitchen floor. No dog dishes—a plus that would make his job much easier. He tiptoed into the living room and placed his shoes next to the front door then continued down the carpeted hallway. Behind the first open door was a full bath. Farther down were two empty bedrooms. The final bedroom, located on the right side of the hall, was partially open. That one had to be hers. He had just enough space to squeeze through sideways without disturbing the door. Ed took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and inched forward. She was only twenty feet away.

  He could hear her constant, even breaths—in and out, in and out. Soon she would be silenced for good. Ed patted the sheath and lifted the Taser out of his pocket. The partially open blinds let in enough of the crescent moon that Ed could see the shape of a body under the blankets. He slowly crept toward her then froze in place when she rolled over and rearranged herself. He waited, barely breathing, before continuing. Ed rounded the bed and stared down at her, only two feet away. He needed to find skin that wasn’t covered by the blanket, and the only exposed area was her head.

  Guess you’re getting it in the face, lady. Sorry about that, but it won’t matter much in a few minutes, anyway.

  Ed pressed the Taser against her head and pulled the trigger. The ticking sound on her skin sent shivers up his spine. She grunted and twitched violently then went limp. He didn’t have a lot of time. She’d come to in less than a minute. Ed ran to the wall and hit the lights. Then he jammed the Taser back into his pocket. She was regaining consciousness and began to moan. With his fist cocked, Ed delivered a hard punch to her face and knocked her out cold. With several hard jerks, he ripped the blanket off the bed and wrapped her in it. Heaving, he picked up her body, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her out into the night.

  Ed thought about the statement the sign would send, especially with a dead body perched against it.

  If this doesn’t do the trick, nothing will.

  He dropped the blanket to the ground and unwrapped Marilyn. Then he dragged her to the post. With her back propped against the sign, Ed slid out his knife from the sheath and plunged it into her throat. She jerked, then her head slumped against her shoulder. The release of air was audible as he pulled the knife back. He listened until she went silent. After several swipes against the lawn to clean it, Ed put the knife away and draped the blanket over Marilyn’s body. She reminded him of a Halloween prop, sitting in the yard as blood at her neckline seeped through the white blanket. With the help of his flashlight, he stared at his handiwork then pointed the beam at the sign. He whispered the words he had written and smiled. “Yep, that ought to do it.” Ed retreated into the vacant lots. Minutes later, he drove away.

  Chapter 32

  The residents who actually opened their doors weren’t happy. We were intruding on their Friday night, and it was late—well past three o’clock in the morning. We had been at it for hours. Four officers from the nearest precinct joined us in the knock and talks. Doors opened only a crack, and sour faces peered out. We weren’t invited in, and I understood why. From the angry, guilty, and tired looks on their faces, the residents probably felt imposed upon and more than likely had something to hide. I was certain police officers were the last people they wanted to see, and it was glaringly apparent we weren’t welcome.

  We took a break on the second-story landing in building seven. We needed to regroup.

  I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket and checked the time. “We’ve only been to seven buildings, and it’s three forty-five in the morning?” I groaned. So far nobody had anything helpful to tell us.

  The crime lab had taken the car back to the evidence garage several hours earlier. Upon initial exam, they said nothing looked unnatural for a car belonging to a twenty-seven-year-old woman. Several fast-food wrappers were balled up on the floor, and a half-drunk bottle of water sat in the cup holder. A cell phone charging cord hung from the power port, and a romance novel—with a bookmark at chapter nine—lay on the back seat. Todd Mills from the crime lab also informed us that the driver’s seat was positioned correctly for someone between five foot three and five foot seven. Their in-depth inspection would take several days to complete.

  “Ready to continue?” J.T. asked.

  I gave him a tired yawn and nodded. “Yeah, but I wish I had a hot cup of coffee in my hand.”

  “Let’s push through another hour of this and then take a break. There has to be an a
ll-night diner around here somewhere.”

  “Actually there is, Agent Harper, about three blocks away,” Lyles said.

  We agreed and continued down the block to the next group of buildings. Our results were the same at every door we knocked on. No one had seen the car being parked or noticed a suspicious looking person in the area. I had to chuckle at the thought. Everyone in that area looked suspicious, including the tenants.

  We decided to break before entering building twelve.

  “Which is faster, Lyles, walking to the diner or back to our cars?”

  He looked up the street then back at the area we had come from. “Honestly, Agent Monroe, I think we should walk. By now, most of the shady characters in this neighborhood have gone to bed.”

  “Fine with me.” I grinned. “I think we look intimidating enough to scare anyone off, anyway.”

  Hardy piped up. “I’m too tired to intimidate anyone, and I wouldn’t have the energy right now to bother. I just need a doughnut and a large coffee. Talk to me about intimidation afterward.”

  J.T. patted Hardy’s back. “We’ll be done in a few hours, Cap. Maybe we can take turns catching a short nap at the station.”

  My mind flashed back to the days we’d searched for J.T. and his sister Julie. I’d be surprised if anybody on our team got eight hours of sleep during that entire week.

  “Here we are,” Lyles said. “It looks like we have the place all to ourselves.”

  I groaned my relief. “I just hope the coffee is fresh and strong.”

  The all-night diner was quiet at that time of morning. We entered and seated ourselves at the long lunch counter. Four tables, lined against the glass wall that looked out over the sidewalk, were empty. A man who’d probably been dozing in the back came out when the bell above the door dinged.

  “Morning, officers.” He passed out a handful of menus as we turned over our coffee cups.