by Celeste Raye
“Thanks.”
He headed out again, hailing a cab to get back to the station, but when he arrived, Gina and Jack were still gone. He had to argue for a few minutes to get a squad car; his lousy driving was known the whole city over. Finally, he was seated in the passenger seat of a car driven by a rookie who was awed by the fake story that Craig had been in deep undercover and was just coming back to work.
He was also very talkative. Craig finally lost patience and told the kid to get on the radio and try to get Jack and Gina. He was answered by the call telling the cars out on the streets that there was a body.
A Gripper body.
He said, to the rookie, “Hit it, kid.”
The kid did, and they raced toward not just the latest Gripper vic, but Gina.
The rain sluiced down, washing over the streets and making it hard to see. The rookie was a decent driver and did not seem intent on killing himself or his passenger, which just made Craig miss Gina even more. The kid was a better driver, safety-wise, but he was wasting time, slowly tooling toward the site and the crime scene. Gina would have already taken a few dangerous shortcuts and high speed, full throttle approaches to get there as fast as possible.
Craig said, “We do not have all day. You need to either step on it or let me out so I can sprint the rest of the way.”
The rookie gave him a startled glance. Craig felt an instant twinge of remorse. The name on the rookie’s uniform read Peterson. He said, “Listen, Officer Peterson, this is the Gripper that we are talking about here. This is a second victim. If we don’t figure something out, there will be a third.”
Peterson put a little foot into the gas. He said, quietly, “He just keeps coming back every year, doesn’t he?”
Craig said, “Yes. But this year, we are going to stop him.”
Peterson shifted uneasily in the seat. “No disrespect, really. But don’t they say that every year? I don’t know about anyone else, but my entire family tends to flee the city for these days. Like, they literally plan their vacation around the time that he’s out making his kills.”
Craig stared through the window at the dismal and unappetizing weather. “I can’t say that I blame them. But his victims tend to be the displaced and disenfranchised. He doesn’t typically go after people who work and can afford to take vacations.”
Peterson’s hands guided the wheel so that the car made a sharp, squealing right turn. “Not yet. But nobody really knows what a serial killer is going to do, now do they?”
“I can’t argue that.”
Peterson said, “I just don’t understand why nobody can figure out who this guy is. There have been some really great cops on this case. At one point they had a whole task force on it.”
Craig sighed. “I know. It’s a real puzzle. It makes no sense at all. But you know what? You are a fresh set of eyes. You have never seen any of his handiwork. Maybe you will spot something the rest of us haven’t.”
Peterson brightened up despite the grimness of the scene that they were currently pulling into. “You might be right. But this rain… I mean, it’s been raining for days. I heard most of the first crime scene got pretty much washed away. If there was any evidence left, it’s gone. It looks like the same thing might apply here.”
Craig reached for the handle on the door. “There’s always evidence. You just have to find it.”
He ducked out of the car and into the weather. His heartbeat quickened as he spotted Gina standing off to one side, her slim figure hidden under a heavy police-issued poncho. He knew it was her though. She was as familiar to him as the shape of his own body. He moved toward her. Her head came up. Their gazes locked. Her eyes went wide, and her lips fell open. Then an expression of utter, radiant joy filled her face.
He knew this was not the time or the place for a tearful or joyful reunion. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure if she had moved on, if she had a new man in her life or not. He walked up to her, and he reached out a hand. He let his hand just graze her shoulder and what he hoped she would understand was the only gesture he could make it that moment. She sucked in a breath. Then her smile came up, and it held everything beautiful and sweet and good. He had hoped then. She said, “There you are. I had just about given you up.”
And just like that, and in a way nobody around them would be able to pinpoint or mark upon, she had told him that she was still his.
The sheer utter exaltation that filled his body at that moment threatening to topple his common sense. The need to kiss her, to take her into his arms and hold her close to his body, was overwhelming. But this was a crime scene. There were too many people standing around. He said in a husky voice, “I’m glad you didn’t.”
She gave him a brief nod. “Me too.”
It wasn’t what either one of them wanted to do at the moment, but they both turned their attention toward the victim lying on the ground. Jack, standing a small distance away, looked battered and slightly fatigued. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands shoved down deep into the poncho. He said, “It’s good to have you back, Craig. Heard you were deep undercover for a while there.”
Craig nodded. “Yes, I was. I tell you all about it, but you know, top secret.”
The CSI team was busy. The body was still fresh enough that they were attempting to collect whatever evidence they could from around it and under it. They had had to erect a small tent-like structure over her to keep the rain off.
Craig called out, “What do we have?”
One of the CSI guys looked up and shook his head. “Number two. She’s one of his all right. Everything matches.”
Yes, but something was wrong. Craig’s eyes narrowed with contemplation. He turned his head slightly and asked Gina, “Am I crazy or just experiencing déjà vu? Does this seem familiar to you?”
Gina frowned and cocked her head as she looked around. “It’s not one of his priors. I know that.”
Craig said, “No, but you know what? We were just at the scene last year. Remember? This is where those two drug dealers shot each other.”
She nodded briskly. “I think you’re right.”
Her finger traced the outline of the street and then she turned to look at the buildings behind her. She spun back around to face him and said, “You know what? You’re right. But you’re not just right; take a look at her body.”
He took a step back and then angled his body out and away from the victim. It hit him then. He said, “She’s positioned the right way, I mean she’s positioned in the typical position we see on his victims, but her feet are facing the wrong way.”
Jack ambled over. He was breathing a little heavily. Craig asked, “Are you okay?”
Jack let the little sniffle out. “Yeah. This god damn weather’s given me a cold. I can barely even breathe. I wish this rain would stop.”
Craig squinted upward at the sky. “I think it will last a while longer.”
Gina said, “We were considering that perhaps this year it’s copycat. There was no talk yet. Not after the first and if there’s been an update issued, we haven’t gotten it yet. Not only that, but the first body was left the dock.”
Craig said, “I know. I was already at the morgue. Robert told me. Doesn’t make sense. It’s not what he does.”
Gina said, “But every other detail is right, even the ones that we have never released to the press.”
Jack said, “It’s almost like…well, shit. It’s like he wants to be caught.”
Peterson chose that moment to land himself into the conversation. “Doesn’t the Gripper always turn his victims with their feet facing west because, well, the FBI thinks he has some sort of sunrise and sunset ritual?”
Craig snorted. “That was the most sensible thing they could come up with. But honestly, this guy defies imagination.”
He shuffled a little bit, shaking as much of the rain gathering in the wrinkles and hills forming in the poncho as he could. He said, “I think the FBI profilers got it all wrong. Robert thinks so too
. On his last vic, he had to kill her before he could finish mutilating her.”
Gina said, “He didn’t tell Jack and I that.”
Craig said, “He said he took her out the drawer to give her a quick check before going home for the day and getting some rest. He hadn’t seen it when you guys were there.”
Jack said, “Maybe she died too soon. You know he likes to keep them alive for a little while as he tortures them. Maybe she couldn’t take it.”
Craig said, “It’s possible, but she could have simply been too much for him. Maybe she put up too much of a fight.”
Peterson said, “Wasn’t she a junky? I mean, how much of a fight can a serious addict put up against somebody determined to kill them?”
Gina snorted. “You’re letting the fact that your rookie show. Wait until you see a meth addict climb up the face of a five-story building without any kind of climbing gear. Then ask us that question.”
Peterson’s mouth fell open. He stuttered out, “That happened?”
Jack growled out, “Yes it happened. I had to bring that raging asshole in. Was the least amount of fun I’ve ever had making an arrest.”
Peterson shook his head. “Wow. Okay, so what happens now?”
Craig said, “We work the evidence. We need to get all the info on the first vic and this one. Did Robert ever get a name for her anything like that?”
Gina said, “Oh, I don’t think so.”
Craig said, “Then we go back to the station. We start hitting the streets and start working missing person cases. Anybody that came up missing that fits the vic’s description could be our victim. Peterson, this is where you come in. You’re gonna sit down with a stack of the missing and are going to start cold calling. Try to get in touch with anybody and everybody who might be able to tell us if they’re still missing and who might be able to identify the first and this victim. Got me?”
Peterson nodded eagerly. His hands patted at his poncho, and then he said, “I’ll head that way now. Are you coming?”
Craig fastened his eyes on Gina’s face. “No, I’ll ride with them.”
Jack leaned back on his heels. His eyes surveyed the scene again, and he shook his head. “I am so glad that I retire next month. I am too old for this shit”
That struck Craig like up blow to the head. He said, “You are retiring?”
Jack grinned at him. “I am. I put in my twenty, and now I’m headed for sunnier shores. Retiring down south to the beach, where the days are warm and sunny and the rain is sparse, and according to everyone who goes there, the fishing is good.”
Craig gave the older cop a fond smile. “I had no idea you knew how to fish.”
A hacking cough came from Jack’s lips. He slapped a hand towards his chest and said, “I don’t. That is not going to stop me. I have to tell you, I will be glad to put this behind me.”
Craig looked at the dead woman on the ground. His heart went out to her. Who had she been before she had met a serial killer who had killed so many others in that city? That was the question that might, perhaps, be able to give them some new information, a fresh way of finding the killer known as the Gripper.
He said, “There’s really nothing we can do here. I guess we should also get busy trying to find out who our victims are.”
Jack said, “Hell, we still haven’t identified some of the earlier ones. He has a habit of picking transients. The people that nobody goes looking for. These people he kills are the people nobody wants to admit to knowing.”
It was true. Sad but true. Craig said, “Well perhaps this time he picked the wrong victim. Maybe this time he picked one that…” Something came to his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was some sort of half-formed idea that was struggling to make itself known. He paused to try to let it come up but it wouldn’t. He said, lamely, “Maybe this time he just picked someone who wasn’t really a transient.”
Jack said, “I don’t think he’d make that kind of mistake.”
Gina said, “But he is making mistakes. He’s going off course. He’s doing things differently this time. Either he’s making mistakes and doesn’t know he is making mistakes or he’s making them on purpose. I don’t know why he would make mistakes on purpose. It can’t be a copycat because of the bodies having all the things done to them, even things that nobody outside of the police force knows.”
Craig said, “I have to agree.”
They turned and headed back for the squad car. Gina got into the driver’s seat, and Jack said, “Are you okay with the back, Craig?”
Actually, he wasn’t. He wanted to sit up next to Gina so that he could maybe press his leg against hers or maybe give her a light touch to show her that he was really there. But Jack was a senior detective, and so the question was asked more out of politeness and not because Jack truly wanted to give up the shotgun seat.
Craig said, “I don’t mind.”
The ride back to the station was the longest he had ever had in his life. The rain kept ticking and tapping down at the roof and the windows. He stared at the back of Gina’s head. She had shucked the poncho’s hood down so that the long and creamy flesh of the back of her neck showed. He wanted to run his fingers along it. Kiss it, stroke it. He wanted to wrap his fingers into her hair and fist it and tug her face close to his for a kiss.
Back at the station, Jack headed off to make a report to the captain. Gina and Craig rid themselves of the soaking ponchos and took seats at Gina’s desk. The room was too busy for them to have any sort of personal and intimate conversation but he did manage to put his knee against her thigh and press forward a little bit as he leaned in to look at the files. Her fingers stroked over his hand, just a fast and light touch that nevertheless made his heartbeat go rapid, and his breath go tight.
Gina said, “Something is wrong this year.”
Morgan shuffled through the files. There were more Jane Does and John Does there than he would’ve liked. It brought home Jack’s words at the scene in a way that bothered him. Too many of these people didn’t have names. It wasn’t right. “I know. Robert and I think he’s older than what the FBI thinks he might be. I’m wondering if it’s possible that he is actually even older than I think. If maybe he has some sort of dementia or physical condition that’s causing him to make mistakes this year.”
Gina sat back in the chair. The dark blue top of her uniform molded itself to the luscious upper curves of her trim body. His attention immediately went to her breasts and his pulse quickened yet again. “It’s a good question. You know what; you might be right. If he’s aging, that would make a lot of sense. He’s made mistakes this year, but it’s definitely him. If he’s suffering some sort of mental or memory loss, or even suffering from some sort of physical condition that’s slowing him down, it would make sense that he had to kill the first victim and then mutilate her.”
She pressed her thigh deeper against the skin of his knee. Their hands lay so close together on the desk that if he nudged his pinky forward just a bit, it would brush against her index finger. He did that. Her eyes dropped to their hands and then went back to his face. A small smile played out on her mouth. She said, “You do not look worse for wear.”
He shot a glance around the room to make sure nobody was paying much attention and then dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. “I’m sorry it was so long.”
She didn’t look away. “I really was almost about to give up on you. I’m sorry for that. It just…” Her shoulders lifted up and then dropped again. That was when her gaze dropped. He said, “I know. I would’ve come sooner, I swear.”
There was a rattle of a chair moving across the floor from somewhere nearby. The sound broke off their conversation. She snatched a file up and riffled through it, a frown of concentration marring her forehead. She said, “So what we might have now is a killer who is aging or losing his physical or mental abilities: victims that matched the method of his usual kills and crime scenes that have slight but serious mistakes in them. We
know it is not a copycat. We know it’s him. There’s something that we’re missing here. I keep thinking about how you said that we were overlooking something so obvious and so simple.”
He said, “Yeah, me too.”
Just then Peterson bounded up to her desk with a sheaf of papers in his hands. He said, “I just printed all these off. I printed them so we could actually look at the faces. It’s kind of hard sometimes on the computer to get the general idea.”
He laid the sheets of paper out. His finger moved to one of the pages, which were all mugshots. “I think this might be the victim we just found.”
Craig and Gina both leaned in. When they did, their shoulders met briefly. Craig immediately moved his chair a little bit so that he wasn’t blocking her view of the page and she gave him a smile that held a little bit of rueful humor in it.
Craig studied the picture, and so did Gina. Gina said, “Same age, same height, it’s hard to tell about the eye color. Hair too. She’s listed as having brown hair, but her hair was blonde. But I know a dye job when I see one. But just based on the facial structure, there is a serious resemblance.”
Peterson nodded. “I actually might know this girl. Well, I know her in the way that I have seen her out on the street sometimes. She works or did work that corner over there by Main and Growth streets. You know the one?”
Unfortunately, Craig knew it way too well. That area of the city was a hotbed of crime and drugs. He said, “No luck with the first one though.”
Peterson shook his head. “I mean, she could be here, but I just looked at a photo of the crime scene and seriously, she’s so messed up in the face from drugs that it’s hard to tell what she looked like before them.”
Gina said, “That seems to be a common problem.” Her fingers traced over the faces of the mugshots. She reached for a file and opened it. Then her fingers traced over the photograph within. She said, “You might actually be on to something, Peterson. We’ve tried to match the faces of the dead with our mugshots, but we have no idea of knowing what they looked like before drugs wasted them away. Especially not if they avoided arrest for even a few months. Addiction spirals fast. It wipes someone’s looks right off the map just as quickly.”