Thicker than Water

by Danae Ayusso

  The tears staining Mickey’s cheeks looked genuine, but Colt couldn’t risk being wrong, not again.

  “Who else is here?” Colt demanded.

  “No one,” Mickey whispered. “I was with the tribal elders when they breeched the estate. They were helping me translate Raven’s notebook.”

  Colt motioned with the gun for Mickey to lead the way. At the end of the hall he poked his head out the door then looked around and saw that the office was empty. He kept the gun trained on Mickey with one hand and rummaged through the evidence box sitting on Raven’s desk labeled FURY, C with the other.

  “What did the notepad say?” Colt asked, clipping his badge on the front of his hip.

  “The stones were nothing special,” Mickey said. “They were cut by hand then polished with a standard jewelers or crafters tumbler. They were cut and set into a belt buckle by a local jeweler that used cheap glue to adhere the rocks to polished silver. The weight of the stones, which were much too thick for that particular application, caused them to easily loosen and fall out.”

  “Where were they sold?”

  “Only one place: Eureka Gifts Galore,” Mickey replied. “Natalie pulled that particular belt buckle from the shelves when the stones started to fall off of the ones on display.”

  Colt looked up at him. “Does she have a list of those that purchased them?”

  He nodded. “She only sold one because they were so heavy and gaudy.”

  Colt nodded, emptying the box out. “Good. That will narrow it down. Where’s my gun?” he demanded.

  ****

  Cat closed and locked the door as James made himself comfortable at the eating bar just inside the cabin. “How did it go at the Mayor’s estate?” she asked conversationally.

  “Oh, it went accordingly,” James said and leaned back against the counter.

  “What did Colt say?” she asked.

  The soft tap of something hard bouncing off of the hardwood floor pulled Cat’s attention and she watched as a small, polished red rock rolled across the floor away from him.

  “Actually, I haven’t been back to the station,” he amusingly said.

  Cat’s hand slid around to her back.

  The cocking of a hammer stopped her.

  James smiled as he leveled a gun at her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Sit,” he barked at her, motioning towards a chair.

  Damn it.

  Cat held her hands up, showing she was unarmed, and sat in the wooden high back chair Colt had brought over because she commented on how beautiful it was when he gave her the tour of his workshop. “Now that I didn’t entirely see coming,” she admitted.

  James smirked. “The great ones are usually the last person you’d ever suspect,” he agreed. “Kind of like you. You were the very last person I suspected. The hair, complexion, eyes, none of it added up to Fury’s taste. Yes, the chemistry between the two of you was rather obvious, but the perfect woman in his eyes would never have been blonde or have brown eyes. Take it off,” he snarled.

  Cat pulled the wig off and tossed it on the floor then repeated with the scalp cap before running her fingers through her hair to loosen it. She popped her contacts out and flicked them at him.

  “Aw, now that’s more like it,” he said.

  “Glad I could be of service,” she said, not bothering to hide her accent. “Now what?” she asked, well aware of what was next.

  He tossed her two pairs of handcuffs, and her hand snapped out and caught them. “Put those on and don’t insult my intelligence by saying you need help. Figure it out and be quick about it.”

  Cat glared at him and snapped a cuff around each wrist then secured each to the arms of the chair. “And for my next trick, I’m going to kill you,” she informed him in a level tone.

  He chuckled. “Really? And how do you suppose you’re going to do that? You’re handcuffed to a chair, there’s no one around that will hear you scream, and, if my timing is right, which it always is, Agent Gerard is putting a bullet in Fury’s head.”

  She growled under her breath.

  “Human nature is so predictable,” James informed her. “Take out a few of his men and push the proud Agent with a temper over the edge of reason and he’d take it out on the man obviously responsible for it. Though, I suppose you’re to thank for that one as well. The other agent, Agent Marrows, I wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with that ball breaking bitch. But, at the same time, it would have been fun to see if she picked up on what was right in front of her since so many others hadn’t. Gerard, now that was a ticking time bomb that I couldn’t wait to play with! Did you know that he had been on administrative leave more than four times in three years for, what the official report called, a volatile anger problem due to perceived injustice.”

  Cat glared at him.

  “And if that didn’t work, I planted enough evidence to point to Fury,” he said in a singsong tone. “There isn’t a jury in the world that wouldn’t convict him with the insurmountable circumstantial evidence that I’ve provided.”

  She nodded, mentally berating herself for missing all of the signs. “Tell me something, Jimmy...or would you prefer I call you Pope?”

  James smiled wide. “Pope is so much more poetic.”

  “No, it isn’t. You like Pope better because it’s the pet name that Fury coined for you. The only slight term of endearment that he’d give you since you were nothing but a friend and brother to him. Isn’t that right?” she tauntingly said and he glared at her.

  I was right. My gaydar is never wrong, and Fury so owes me a drink.

  “Is that why you killed your sister?” Cat continued. “Your own flesh and blood, your own twin, because she could be somewhere you could never be: in his bed.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Fury wasn’t into you like that and never would be. That man is as straight as they come, and you couldn’t handle that, could you? You had to take out the competition. You killed all those who fit into his preferred type, anyone who could possibly fill the void that Vicks left when you killed her and carved her up before displaying her body as if she was nothing more than an animal, a prize kill. Isn’t that right?”

  James smiled, looking like a psychotic killer. “Yes, that’s right. I killed my little sister, my twin, the person who was like a mother to me after our own died. It wasn’t fair that Vicks had to pick up the slack,” he said, sounding slightly remorseful. “But in all fairness, the bitch should have died in that fire as well. If it wasn’t for our lovely father and the fact that he was a light sleeper, the three of them would have died as the happy family they were.”

  Cat nodded.

  I knew it. You sick sonuvabitch.

  “It was all so easy, wasn’t it?” Cat said, ready to lay some cards on the table. “You just had to make it look like accidents. First Fury’s parents, then his grandfather, not to mention, your parents. You kept cock-blocking your sister every time she was going to get give herself to him, and you kept trying to convince your own sister that Fury wasn’t good enough for her, giving her a complex and low self-esteem, and you chased Mr. Hall out of town with the threat of finding child porn on his computer... In case you were wondering, I made some calls and he was more than happy to tell me all about it.”

  James chuckled, appearing completely at ease, as if they were talking about something as innocent as the weather. “You aren’t nearly as dumb as you look. Accidents are the easiest way to cover one’s ass, but they are oh so boring after a while. Yes, I had to get creative when I was younger because I was physically limited. The fire at the estate was a means to cover my ass. I was a kid, not as versed in forensics as I am now, so I acted rashly and hastily covered the crime.”

  “But that wasn’t enough for you,” Cat said. “You didn’t get the credit for it, the mayor did. He was the bad guy, thus he wasn’t someone to fear. There was no mystery or villain; he was dead.”

  He tapped his nose with his finger. “Smart girl. The daughters w
eren’t satisfying because they died quickly and without pleading. Their eyes snapped open and locked on mine as I straddled them, holding the plastic over their lower faces. The youngest, she was four, actually looked excited to see me before her eyes widened as I placed the plastic over her mouth and nose. The seven-year-old thrashed and fought, but she was no match for my strength. The ten-year-old...oh yes, she was more fun to play with, but not nearly as much fun as their brother. He was such a sound sleeper, always had been, and I used his Boy Scouts belt to strangle him with. I wanted him to know that I was the last thing he’d see before he died, before I killed him. Their parents were killed quickly, they bore me greatly. You know what the mayor’s last words were?”

  Cat gave him a look. “Please don’t kill me you sick little bastard?” she offered.

  “No,” James said in a clipped tone. “He said, ‘But Marty cared about you.’ Ha! Marty didn’t give a damn about me. He pushed me away and threaten to tell people... I really should have taken my time killing him for lying to me, but it was getting late and it was well past my bedtime.”

  “But of course,” she agreed. “Why Fury’s parents? That’s the one thing I haven’t been able to figure out. There was no need to kill them other than his mother was a crazy bitch and his dad a push over.”

  James smirked, looking overly proud of himself and happy to finally have an audience to brag about his crimes to. “They weren’t a concern, not in the least... That is until that push over was offered a job in Seattle at a custom furniture factory that specialized in high end antique reproductions. That drunk bitch mother of his didn’t care if they moved; it simply meant more money for her to drink herself stupid with. But the push over was worried and he came over to talk to me and Vicks since we were Fury’s best friends. He was worried that his son wouldn’t be okay with the move, would resent him for it since his life and friends were here in Eureka. Vicks assured him that Fury would be okay, and that if he wanted to visit Fury could stay with us. Traitorous bitch,” he snarled the latter, his eyes narrowing.

  Schizophrenic...he has to be.

  “That was yet another perfect crime thanks to an apparent accident,” he continued, appearing, once again, rather proud of himself. “I ran out on the bridge as they started over it, they swerved to miss me and went over. The bitch was unconscious and he was dazed and groaning, but was conscious enough that he was able to unhook his seatbelt and crawled out the side window. Goddamn seatbelts. Always the stickler for the rules, just like Fury, but when given lemons one must make lemonade,” he cheerfully said. “I helped him get the bitch out and when his back was to me as he assessed her injuries, I picked up a rock and bashed him in the head with it from behind. That wasn’t good enough though, no, that would never do. He was trying to take away my best friend, so he had to pay. I dragged him into the creek and held his head under the water until he stopped flailing and struggling. The bitch, now that was a first. I had seen it in so many movies, and it looked so easy, but breaking a neck isn’t nearly as easy as it looks. It took a lot of effort, but on the fifth try I was able to torque it just right.” Contently he sighed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced firsthand the joys of snapping a neck with your own bare hands. The loud pop it makes...” his words trailed off and he shivered.

  This isn’t fucked up in the least.

  “It truly is a spiritual moment of enlightenment,” he informed her.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Cat dryly commented.

  James’ head tilted to the side to regard her. “You’re different than the others.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

  “I just did,” he pointed out.

  “Did you just get lazy with Gramps?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

  He glared at her. “Not in the least. By the time I was barely a teenager I had already mastered fire, suffocation, strangulation, drowning, cervical fracture by my own two hands, and staged suicide via gun. I will admit, I was getting bored, so I thought outside the box. The Reverend, what a bitter old bastard,” he dramatically huffed. “Somehow the bastard proved to be rather difficult to kill, and the few failed attempts I had made were taken out on Fury as if they were his doing...”

  Softly he sighed, his face showing sadness and remorse. “Seeing Colt’s beautiful ivory skin blemished in black and purple bruises, his mesmerizing brown eyes swollen and red-streaked from crying when he didn’t think anyone was looking... The Reverend even shaved Colt’s golden locks off just to be a bastard.”

  Obviously Jimmy calls him Colt, I don’t know if I like Pope calling Fury by his last name like I do. I’m extremely conflicted about that.

  James shook his head before looking intently at Cat, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “I went to the lake when Fury was with Vicks and Emma, tending to his wounds, and I pushed the old bastard into his fishing hole. He was a fighter, that’s where Fury gets it from, so I took his hatchet and buried it in each hand when he tried to pull himself out of the water. You know what his last words to me were?” he mused.

  Cat nodded. “If I was a betting woman, I’d say ‘I’ll see you in Hell, you little bastard.’”

  James chuckled. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  This is fun and all, but it still isn’t making sense. There are too many damn dots that don’t connect. Jimmy isn’t being helpful in the least, so it’s time to push the crazy sonuvabitch so I can get a confession that will hold up in court this time. It’s like the goddamn alley all over again, but this time the murderous bastard’s confession will hold up in court.

  “When people started looking into the Lakes,” Cat said, trying to get Pope to connect the rest of the dots, to admit to the rest of the crimes since the hidden cameras throughout the cabin are recording their every move and word, “asking why Vicks was targeted when she was seemingly perfect, it turned their attention to you: the Lake that was questionable. So you made it about something other than the Lakes. June Warren had a well-known crush on Fury and a few others she graduated with, but never was she competition for his attention. However, she was tall, dark haired and light eyed, and fit your need—she was the perfect distraction. But I don’t think that was the same with Sandra Adams and Monica Ramsey. You enjoyed killing again. No longer were you bored or simply killing to protect your secret, to get rid of the competition, to protect the man you love. No, you finally found your niche.”

  A smile filled his face. “Cleaver girl. And they say that reading is a wasted past time,” he mused. “It no longer was a past time or something I found myself daydreaming about. No. Now it all made sense. I was an artist and each of those virgins were my canvases. You have to admit, they truly were awe inspiring pieces of art.”

  “Eh,” Cat said, “I’m an en plein air impressionism fan myself, but to each their own.”

  “Obviously they didn’t teach you taste in the Midwest.”

  She simply smirked.

  “Why are you dragging this out?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Are you waiting for reinforcements?”

  “Perhaps I’m trying to make you realize your mistakes, Pope,” Cat mockingly said.

  James glared at her before smiling wide. “I don’t make mistakes. The fact that you’re handcuffed to a chair and have a gun pointed at you is proof of that. You can scream all you want and no one will hear you, in fact, there’s no one living for miles and miles.”

  Cat’s eyes widened before they narrowed. “You finally added Emma to the list,” she surmised, noting the blood under his nails.

  “Grandmother just didn’t know when to stop. With her blood pressure and medication, she bled out before the heart attack killed her.”

  “She wasn’t trying to sleep with Fury, and she sure in the hell wasn’t a virgin or a smooth canvas to carve up, so why her?”

  He pushed his free hand through his hair and his features softened some. “I was her grandson, her own flesh and blood, but guess
who got the house when she died? It wasn’t Vicks, it wasn’t even Vicks and Colt. No. That she left the entire estate, including the four buildings on Main Street, solely to Colt.” He looked at his hands and a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth as he admired the blood staining his nail beds. “Even before I took out his goddamn family she viewed Fury as hers. There was something about that blond haired, skinny kid that she loved. Loved more than her own flesh and blood.”

  “Jealous much?”

  “Not in the least,” he assured her with a sheepish smile. “Once Colt was mine, we could have the estate together. After all, he did fix it up masterfully. The woodwork, that was all him. The custom shelves and kitchen, the staircase, even most of the furniture, that was all Colt over the years. He was slowly but surely turning it into his... What right did he have?” he snarled the latter.

  Rossi, this is getting dangerous. Obviously Pope and Jimmy have difficulties cohabitating the same body; they don’t agree on anything, it appears.

  “Did it ever occur to you,” she said, “that he was simply being nice and grateful to the family that took him in?”

  James’ lips twisted into a contemplative pout. “No, but it didn’t matter. That was my house, my estate to inherit, not some bastard child’s to do what he wanted with it.”

  “He didn’t want it,” Cat informed him, trying to bid herself some time.

  “Oops,” he said with a smile. “I guess it’s a little too late to say sorry, huh?”

  “A bit,” she agreed. “It’s safe to assume that you used me as a pawn in your little scheme once you had gotten bored.”

  James held the gun out and mockingly waved it back and forth along her body, as if he was trying to decide on where to shoot her first. “Now, that’s impressive,” he eventually said.

  “Not really,” Cat said, rolling her neck to crack it. “You purposely told me which routes to take for my run, you knew which I was going to take that day so I’d come across Five. You killed an innocent girl that did nothing wrong but ask for help to find her dog, because she walked into your station with a purity ring on, had long black hair, light eyes and pale skin. She was kind and sweet, and you just couldn’t help yourself. That itch was back and you had to scratch it, especially since it was nearing the five year anniversary of your first master piece. Beside the perfect canvas that walked in your door, you saw a means, a way to get Fury off of the mountain and back at your side where you feel he belongs.”