She leaned forward ever so slightly, but to Kent she might as well have jumped up and down, shouting how eager she was to start. He didn’t say a word as her hands reached out and her fingertips hovered over the keyboard.
“How do I start?” she asked, licking her lips.
Kent was impressed. Most would not dare to follow where he tread. Before her conscious mind could convince her otherwise, Kent clicked the mouse and brought up one of his female personas, MissJustRight.
The detective bit her lower lip, then nodded. He loaded the account and found her just the right chat room. Her fingers pulled back, though, when she realized it was a female-female environment.
“I…I can’t.”
“Oh,” Kent cooed. “You can.”
With a deep breath, Nicole put her fingers back on the keyboard and typed. “Hi.”
Okay, maybe she couldn’t. At least not without some coaching.
“Remember,” Kent whispered. “We are seducing. We create a presence then allow them to come to us. We need to be the dominant.”
Nicole nodded. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”
As the seconds stretched out, Kent could feel her tense. Her fear that she had ruined the moment was palpable. There was no place for fear in a seduction.
“Which one do you think will respond?” Kent asked, trying to keep her mind off the blank screen in the private chat window.
The detective’s gaze scanned over the list of participants. There were over twenty five, yet, to his eyes, there was only one.
“Ready2Party?” she guessed.
That was not the one.
“Too many options,” Kent explained. “She’ll have plenty of girls hitting on her. We need someone a bit more complicated than that.”
Nicole shook her head. “They all seem pretty much the same.”
This detective had so much to learn. So many layers to peel back.
Kent pointed to a name. “Chastity4U.”
He watched as her eyes squinted, reading the name. Kent didn’t have to ask, he knew she was trying to figure out why he had picked that one.
“She calls herself Chastity, yet is in a sex chat room,” Nicole stated, sounding a bit unsure of herself. Off his nod, she continued. “So she is already lying.”
Kent didn’t have to affirm her theory, since Chastity IM’d Nicole. The detective looked over to him and grinned. He had called it yet again. What could he say? He was on a roll.
As Nicole responded to Chastity, Kent leaned in. Too intent on the screen, the detective did not move away. He breathed in her kiwi shampoo as he watched the pounding of her carotid just beneath the skin. Nicole was an odd mixture of sweet and sweat. Tender and tenacious. Kent hadn’t expected to find that combination in this Mid-Western town.
The bell on the door jingled as another after-work client walked in. Who did these people think they were fooling? No one came to an internet café unless they wanted to hide something. The FBI might as well just put out a blanket search warrant on all café computers. It was well known that over fifty percent of the business conducted here was illegal in nature. The other half? Well, they might as well just hand the transcripts of their sessions over to their spouses along with a guide to quick divorce.
A ding brought Chastity’s response.
Kent leaned in even further—this was about to get interesting.
* * *
Nicole fidgeted in her chair. She read, then reread Chastity’s IM. “So what do you like?”
She had watched Harbinger navigate exactly this question half a dozen times, yet Nicole couldn’t think of a single response. “What should I answer?” Kent was at her shoulder. Somehow his knee was brushing against hers. When had he moved so close? She angled away a bit. “Well?”
“Tell her the truth,” the profiler said.
“I’m straight,” Nicole clarified. She didn’t have any problem with not being straight, it just wasn’t how she was wired.
“Tell her a fantasy, then,” Kent stated. “Those are actually more truthful than we like to admit.”
Nicole leaned back from the keyboard. “I thought we were creating a false persona. Acting out what they want to hear.”
“Ah,” the profiler said, leaning back as well. “But you won’t be convincing unless your seduction comes from a real place. Somewhere inside, you know exactly what both you and she want.”
It didn’t seem possible, yet Nicole’s fingers did know exactly what she wanted to type. “Role-playing.”
“I’m intrigued,” Chastity wrote back. “Who? Where?”
There were some pretty obvious choices. Going for the Marquis-type seduction or the standard two chicks in a hot tub, but Nicole didn’t want to be obvious.
“Clothes shopping,” Nicole wrote. “Two friends, same booth. I’m straight. You aren’t.”
Chastity seemed to take the bait whole. “I help you with your dress’s belt, smoothing the fabric over your hips.”
“Helping adjust my neckline,” Nicole prompted.
“My hand accidently brushes against your breast.”
“I don’t pull away.”
The profiler put his hand on the keyboard. “Okay, we don’t want to give away too much of the milk before she buys the cow.” Nicole jerked her fingers back, startled at his intrusion. She hadn’t realized just how intent she had been on the screen. Harbinger continued. “Let’s make the date and peace out.”
As Nicole complied, out of the corner of her eye she watched the profiler. Was he a little flustered? Was he really averting his eyes from the screen? Or was he just too busy taking notes?
Wait. That pad and pen looked familiar.
“That’s Ruben’s set!” she said, snatching the items from Harbinger.
The profiler didn’t even try to hide the fact he had stolen them from her partner. “The leather is so supple, and the pen? Glides across the paper.”
“I gave him that for Christmas,” Nicole exclaimed, retracting the pen’s tip and tucking it inside the small leather holder.
“Really?” the profiler stated his eyebrow arching. “Your first Christmas together and you get him a pad and pen set? How practical.”
Feeling the tips of her ears burning, Nicole was even more horrified to find that the profiler had transcribed everything she’d said to Chastity into Ruben’s notepad. Nicole ripped the page out, crumpling it, then shoving it deep in her pocket.
“What?” Harbinger asked. “I was just trying to give him some pointers.”
Before she could retort, the clerk called out from behind the counter, “I’m going to need another twenty if you want another hour.”
That couldn’t be. Nicole looked down at her watch. It had been nearly an hour. Ruben must be going ballistic by now, wondering why she wasn’t in the interrogation with him. She looked down to her phone to find two missed calls and four texts from her partner. How had she missed them?
“That’s it, I’ve got to get back.”
“I’ll drive,” the profiler said as he stood up.
It wasn’t until then that Nicole realized that she did need a ride. Ruben had taken the car, and by now all the patrol cars would be gone. She didn’t have time to argue. The sooner she got back to the station, the better.
Harbinger led them out of the internet café and to a dark brown SUV. He unlocked the door with a click of the remote. Nicole climbed in, getting seated and snapping her seat belt closed. To her surprise, the profiler turned on the ignition and pulled out into traffic without any hesitation. She half expected him to stall or tell her they had a stop to make.
Certainly he wasn’t giving her a ride out of the goodness of his heart. She’d only known him for a few hours, but that just didn’t seem to be how he operated. But they were making a beeline for the precinct, so she couldn’t complain. Well, maybe she could complain. The interior of the car smell like…cigar. Didn’t the rental car company clean it out between drivers? Harbinger didn’t strike her as the type to smoke, especiall
y not cigars.
Then she noticed the parking permit swinging gently from the rearview mirror. A permit for the morgue’s parking lot.
“This is Dr. McGregor’s SUV!”
“I figured at some point we would need a set of wheels,” the profiler calmly explained.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
Nicole knew that panicking wasn’t going to help keep away the wrath that would rain down upon her from the Medical Examiner, but her panic was well warranted.
“We’ve got to return it. Now,” Nicole emphasized.
“All in due time,” Harbinger answered, leaning his elbow against the open window frame.
“No,” Nicole snapped. “You don’t understand.”
But the profiler smiled. “Oh, but I think I do.” Then he winked.
What had she gotten herself into?
CHAPTER 3
Ruben checked the clock. Again. Nicole was never late. His partner had a metronome in her head. If a waiter said the entrée would be out in five minutes, Nicole would not have to look at her watch to advise him if he were a moment overdue. Ruben even questioned why she even wore a watch in the first place.
“Yes, detective,” the lawyer who sat across from him said. “We’ve all got other things we would like to be doing.”
No doubt they did. Ruben returned his focus to the suspect sitting across from him. At first glance, you wouldn’t take him for a serial killer. The anatomy professor looked like, well, an anatomy professor. He had the air of a professional nerd. Black-rimmed glasses and all.
However, if he were so innocent, why was he always so cagey during his interrogations? Ruben had flagged him months ago, after the initial round of interviews. The man never answered a question directly. And his lawyer was no help.
Levinson closed his briefcase. “If we are done, my client would like to go home to his wife, who, I might remind you, has already given him an alibi for last night.”
Ruben had hoped to wait for Nicole before really getting into the meat of the interrogation. Her presence seemed to fluster the professor. However, he couldn’t wait any longer.
Slowly, he opened the folder with the latest crime scene photographs. “Look familiar?”
As always, the professor shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and studied the dissected bodies. His eyes coursed over the organs as his lips moved without sound. Carefully, he lined the pictures up. The head at the top. The chest area next, then the abdomen. Finally, the pelvis and legs.
“I would have used more sharp dissection than blunt. It creates a better distinction between the muscle groups.”
Ruben had to constrict his throat as bile threatened. “She was alive when this was done to her.”
The professor looked up, frowning. “And for that I am sorry, but I had nothing to do with it.”
“Do you know how most people react when they see something like this?” Ruben asked, then answered his own question. “They are horrified. Revolted.”
Munz went to answer, but his lawyer laid a hand on his arm and spoke instead. “Unless the legal code has changed since we’ve been in here, being an outlier is not a crime.”
Ruben knew he was losing this round. Soon, very soon, Munz’s lawyer was going to insist that they either charge his client or let him go. Ruben could, of course, reveal that fact that they had surveillance on Munz which could break his wife’s alibi. But Ruben wanted to hold that back. Let Munz and his lawyer believe that they had nothing on the professor. All the better when they finally caught Munz in the act.
“So, as I said, I think this interview is…”
The lawyer’s words were cut off as Nicole rushing in. She mouthed “sorry” as she closed the door. Ruben noted that Munz sat straighter in his chair, his shoulders back like an English schoolboy.
“Detective Usher,” the lawyer said with a nod. If Ruben wasn’t mistaken, the guy actually thought he had a chance with Nicole. Like she’d ever go out with a defense attorney.
“Mr. Levinson,” Nicole answered as she sat down.
“Fashionably late?” the lawyer asked. “Or did you find some exculpatory evidence for my client?”
When she didn’t answer, Ruben looked to her. Nicole wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she did push his notepad and pen toward him. Weird. He didn’t think he’d given them to her.
Levinson’s eyes darted between them. “Something I should be aware of?”
“No,” Ruben stated. “But I would like to know your client’s exact movements last night.”
The lawyer sighed. “You do tape these interviews, correct? And since you already have him explaining that he was home all night with his wife about three times, I think you can just make a loop of it and we’ll never have to come in again.”
“How about one more time,” Ruben suggested. If he could just trip Munz up, he wouldn’t have to reveal the surveillance.
“As much as I would love”—Levinson emphasized the “love” as he nodded to Nicole—”to continue this conversation, my client pays me by the hour, and it would simply be highway robbery to go over it all again.” There wasn’t much Ruben could do as the lawyer rose, urging his client up. “So I think we are going to call it a night.”
* * *
Nicole watched as the two pushed their chairs back, getting ready to leave. She should have been here. But, really, would it have made much of a difference? Ruben was so certain that the killer was Munz, but after Harbinger’s demonstration, she wasn’t so sure. Her partner had no theory on how Munz would have met and seduced all of the victims. And the professor had always seemed so…obvious.
Yes, in common crimes it usually was the most obvious suspect. A wife turns up dead, you look to the husband. A child? You look to the parents.
But this crime was anything but common. So an anatomy professor being The Anatomy Professor seemed so out of character for the killer who went to such great length to cover his tracks.
The more time they spent on Munz, the less time they spent on finding the real killer. They needed to rule him in or out, like right now.
“Just tell us, professor,” Nicole said before she realized she was going to speak. “Tell us the truth so we can move on.”
Everyone turned to her. Ruben’s eyes questioning what the hell she was doing. Nicole’s gaze sought the two-way mirror, picturing the profiler standing behind it, watching her, judging her, urging her to get this over with.
“I have told you the truth,” Munz said. Did his words sound as hollow to him as they did to her?
“We have you under surveillance,” Nicole blurted as Ruben’s eyes dilated. She knew they wanted to keep that a secret, but why, if Munz wasn’t the killer? Nicole was pretty damned sure she knew what the professor was hiding. Well, she knew if Harbinger had been at all correct in his assessment. “And you weren’t home with your wife.”
The lawyer seemed concerned, looking to his client. “I wouldn’t say anything, Dr. Munz.” He urged his client to the door, but Nicole stepped in front of them.
“I get it that you want to keep your…activities private,” Nicole sympathized. “But people are dying. Your secret pales in comparison to another person being dissected alive.” Munz refused to look her in the eye. “I know you don’t want that.”
Ruben put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should let them go and bring the professor back in when—”
“Or, you could tell us right now what you were doing last night.” Nicole shrugged off her partner’s restraint. “Your wife has perjured herself, Dr. Munz. We can prosecute her for that.” The professor finally looked up. She’d found the chink in his armor. His wife. “She knows, doesn’t she?”
Munz’s lips pursed together. Nicole was close, but not correct. “She suspects, then?”
“What are you talking about?” Levinson asked.
“Yes,” her partner added tersely. “What exactly are you implying?”
The professor knew, though. Nicole could tell, as his eyelid t
witched and his hand trembled against his pant leg.
“I have the right not to incriminate myself.”
Nicole couldn’t allow the smile she felt inside to reach her lips. She still needed him to confess to his actual crime. “We aren’t interested in prosecuting you, Dr. Munz. But we do need you to tell us what you were doing last night.”
Still, the man seemed hesitant. She had to find something else to apply the right pressure to break the seal of shame. “My guess is that you disabled the cameras in the anatomy lab, but did you remember to turn off the ones in the hallways? The ones that will show your repeated after-hours trips to the lab?”
By the way his lips clamped down, she guessed not. “And are you absolutely certain we won’t find biologicals, your biologicals, on the cadavers?”
“It’s a victimless crime,” Munz blurted out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Levinson intervened. “How about my client and I confer before—”
Nicole stepped around the lawyer. “What is, Dr. Munz? What have you been doing in that lab? At night? By yourself?”
“They don’t want anything. They don’t have expectations,” the professor stammered out. “They don’t fight.”
“Dear God,” Ruben whispered. “You’re a necrophiliac.”
Munz turned on his heel. “We prefer the term daisy pusher.”
Nicole didn’t have to hear anything more. The professor was a pervert, but he wasn’t their perp. She made for the door.
“Where are you going?” Ruben asked.
“To search for the actual killer,” Nicole stated, then left the room. As the door shut, her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the hallway. She found her captain standing at the observation window. Nicole glanced around, but he was the only one there.
“What the hell was that about, Usher?” Captain Glick demanded.
“Where’s FBI Special Agent Harbinger?”
Captain Glick frowned. “What Special Agent?”
“The one you called in to help with the case?”
Glick shook his head. “I didn’t call in any FBI agent. And back to why you—”
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