Still Waters [A Kyra Moray Mystery]

by Deanna Lee

  "Yes, Inspector.” He cleared his throat. “I'm not someone who is so easily led. I don't normally think with my dick."

  "We all make mistakes.” She started to stand, but then changed her mind. “Listen to me, Justice. You might be harboring some anger about how my partner and I dragged you in here and embarrassed you in front of the people you work with. It might occur to you to think that I'm after this man you know as Robert for some other reason than the justice you are named for."

  "What are you trying to say?"

  "If he contacts or tries to meet you, don't give in to his demands or requests, no matter how reasonable his arguments may be. It is my belief that he is dangerous to anyone that knows him."

  Justice was silent for a moment and then sighed. “And if you're wrong?"

  "If he isn't the killer I'm searching for ... then you need to remember that he has at the very least impersonated three dead children. If he had nothing to hide, he wouldn't hide behind fake names."

  "Yeah. Yeah.” He rubbed his face. “I'll let you know if he contacts me."

  * * * *

  "I want every female employee on the mayor's re-election campaign interviewed. We've got three missing tattoos, and one of them is going to be there.” Kyra added a picture of Robert to the pictures she had of Samuel Killian and Aaron Belton.

  "You needn't look far."

  Kyra turned and watched the district attorney and her commander walk into the room. “Ms. Ford."

  Jessica shrugged out of her jacket. “To be truthful, I wasn't going to reveal this.” She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off her left shoulder. The fanciful little rainbow flowed from the top of her left breast almost to her collarbone. “I've been working closely with the mayor's campaign. After all, his support secured me my position and will continue do so as long as he's in place."

  Kyra's mouth tightened. “Clear this room."

  The six men and women who had been in the briefing room jumped up and fought each other to get out of the room. When only the DA and the commander remained, Kyra walked to the murder board where her victims’ pictures hung.

  "Suppose you considered this a matter of privacy."

  "Something like that."

  "You realize that a public recognition that you had one of the missing tattoos could help the other women come forward."

  "Perhaps.” She refastened her blouse and considered her next words. “I was drunk and being stupid with a friend. I'd managed to go an entire evening without being recognized."

  "Deller?"

  "Has no clue.” Jessica snorted and shook her head. “He would likely keel over from the pure shock of it. Everyone is very aware of his stance on homosexuality."

  "Yes, I was surprised to see him here with O'Malley."

  "He likes to play the compassionate conservative for the mayor."

  Kyra shook her head. “I don't buy that our guy would pick you out as a victim."

  "He couldn't have known who I was that night."

  "Once the choice was made...” Kyra sighed. “Fuck."

  "Do you think he'll try for me?"

  "Not at the moment, which will make his next victim one of the ones we don't know.” Kyra frowned. “How the hell did he know to pick women who lived here? Mardi Gras fills up with people from all over the freaking planet ... there were even three ships from the moon colony that week, full of people with nothing better to do than get drunk and screw in the streets."

  "Inspector.” Jessica clicked her tongue. “The city of New Orleans doesn't encourage the citizens to screw in the streets."

  "You paid cash."

  "Yes."

  Kyra rubbed the back of her neck. “Fine, write out your statement, and forward it to me and my partner. I'll make every effort not to make this an issue with the press."

  "That's acceptable."

  "By the way, he dubbed you Bitch 5.” She watched the color drain from the lawyer's face and nodded. “You'll get a protection detail assigned. I would suggest that you do nothing to hamper their ability to protect you."

  * * * *

  Desi Marcos was wearing a pair of goggles that had more functions than her vibrator, and she had to admit they were almost as exciting. She pulled them off, and the spectrum of colors disappeared. “Inspector."

  "Make my day, Dr. Marcos."

  "O'Malley keeps a spotless apartment. I did find some hair in the bathroom; I'll need a DNA sample from him so that I can eliminate him from my samples. From his statement, we know that the man he knew as Robert was in here a handful of times."

  "The bed?"

  "If there has been activity in it, the evidence has been cleared. My personal opinion is that O'Malley would have no reason to lie about any sexual contact. It isn't like he's in the closet or anything."

  "Yeah.” Kyra looked around the living room of the apartment and frowned. “How can anyone be this neat?"

  "It's sort of sick,” Desi agreed. “He doesn't even have leftovers in his fridge. I'll have the CSU team packed and ready to go back to the lab soon."

  "Did you get the offer from the commander?"

  Desi paused. “Head of Forensics for Major Crimes?"

  "Yeah, that one."

  "I told him I'd think about it."

  "Good.” Kyra turned to Ana as Desi went back to her team. “Okay, tell me what you think of Justice O'Malley."

  Ana paused and seemed to consider what to say. “He's a precise man who likes things to be neat and orderly. He is unashamed of his lifestyle and makes no excuses for it. Justice O'Malley isn't the sort of man to knowingly involve himself with a criminal. He'll have nothing more to do with the man he knew as Robert."

  Kyra nodded. “I agree. Anything else?"

  "Yes.” Ana paused briefly. “He was more emotionally involved with Robert than he'd realized. When he was faced with Robert's obvious betrayal, he realized how invested he had been in the relationship. He found it unsettling."

  "Our suspect has a way of ingratiating himself with people around him. When I first met Samuel Killian, I actually felt pity for his grief. I really believed he loved Donna LaRoux."

  "He may have, in his own sick little way."

  "No, if he'd loved her ... the crime would have been so much more passionate."

  "Like Stacey Valteau?"

  Kyra turned and looked at her. “Yes, exactly like Stacey."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Inspector,

  Your lack of attention to my work has been frustrating.

  You don't understand how important I am.

  Your arrogance will not go unpunished.

  The Waterman

  Kyra read the note with dread and fury pooling in her stomach. Her first impulse was to call everyone that she loved and ensure that they were alive and well. Since giving in to such an impulse would have been a weakness, she handed her p-pc to Desi Marcos and turned her back on the people in the room. The killer was baiting her, and it was important that she not allow herself to dwell on it. The note was no more personal or intimate than the others.

  Detectives Brant and Trane sat at the table along with Detective Ryan Jennings, who had come from Police Plaza to join her task force. She knew why he was there, and for the moment, she didn't resent it. His father had been a cop for twenty-seven years and had retired as the commander of District 1. His son hadn't been given a free ride, but he did get his choice of assignments. He'd asked to join the team that would catch a serial killer, because it would be exciting.

  * * * *

  "He's shifted his focus,” Desi said as she began the process of tracing the transmission.

  "Yes."

  "It's no longer about his power but about your indifference.” Desi frowned and sighed. “He used a p-pc registered in Justice O'Malley's name. Not really a surprise."

  "So how will he punish us for not getting on television and proclaiming his brilliance and our fear?"

  "The wait won't be long,” Kyra mused. “Not long at all."

 
"CSU came back with the data on Stacey Valteau's personal compu-station. There were a few emails that seemed to be intimate, but they came from a young woman living in the New York Dome. She and Stacey attended a youth camp in Florida about two years ago and remained close friends after they returned home.” Desi paused as she continued to look over the report on her p-pc. “Nothing from any of the known aliases of the suspect."

  * * * *

  It was the scoop of a lifetime. Jeff Marks watched the recording several times in awe; the ceremony of it was astounding, the positioning of the body shocking and horrific. He knew he'd never get that past the censors. He'd have to blur the body parts, of course, maybe then ... Christ, it was so good. How had he gotten so fortunate?

  * * * *

  She made me do it. My vision should have been hers. Why didn't she believe in me? All I needed was a few more days. Just a few more, and she could have continued on with her life. Did you see how she made me treat her? It wasn't supposed to be her! It just wasn't time. It's all her fault, I swear. I know you wanted it to be different. I've disappointed you again. Failed again. I promised you I'd never do that, didn't I? So long ago, I promised that I would never fail you again.

  I've always done what needed to be done to serve the mission. I killed my friends to protect it, didn't I? I lured all three of them from home and killed them because I'd been so foolish to contact Jason. I was lonely! I was so lonely until he found and saved me. If I'd just waited, they could have lived.

  I know I know. I've helped them live in the only way I could. I tried to make up for what I did. It won't ever be enough, not for them. But it will be for you. I've laid out the rest of my plans ... you will be so pleased with what I have in mind. So pleased.

  * * * *

  Ana paused at the doorway of the conference room and stared at the news feed on the vid-panel for several moments before she moved closer and cleared her throat. “Panel, volume four."

  "Again, this exclusive footage obtained from an anonymous source.” Jeff Marks looked appropriately serious and concerned as he spoke. “The footage, of course, is shocking, and I caution parents about allowing their young children to view the following images. At this point, we are uncertain as to who made this recording...” His face was gone, replaced by a close-up of Casey Mills's face. Then the camera drew away from her face and over the position of a body that was so familiar, for a moment Ana lost the ability to move.

  "Kyra!"

  * * * *

  Kyra reached out for Ana as soon as she could, steadying her, and shouting that the vid-panel be turned off. “Detective Brant, I want that bastard in my custody within the next twenty minutes.” She shoved Ana into a chair. “Constable Salanti, look at my face."

  Ana, pale and shaking, met Kyra's gaze and flinched. “Yes, Inspector."

  "You are not going to cry, and you are not going to lose it. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes. Yes.” She nodded abruptly.

  "You're going to be mad.” Kyra gripped her chin roughly. “Pissed. Get that way right now."

  "I'm going to need my crown,” Ana whispered.

  Kyra almost laughed. “Get up, and get me an interrogation room.” She backed off, and Ana scurried away. The door closed on Ana's retreating back, and Kyra turned on the two cops still in the room. “He killed a cop and sent a fucking recording of it to the press."

  "A cop.” Ryan Jennings looked toward the screen.

  "A beat cop, Ana's former partner. She was reassigned to Anti-Crime. Find out where she's supposed to be."

  * * * *

  "Look, you can't do this to me."

  Kyra sat down in front of Jeff Marks and very calmly laid her p-pc down in front of her. “Did you talk to him?"

  "To who?"

  "The man who sent you the recording of a dead cop."

  Jeff paled and swallowed visibly. “A cop? Look, it just came to me on mini-disk about an hour before the afternoon news. I didn't know who it was. I ran with it. I thought it might be a copy of a police scene report."

  "Since you have gotten copies of scene reports illegally in the past, you are aware that they are always marked with time, date, and case number. The footage you received and that you put on the afternoon news wasn't dated and was obviously not official police footage. You knew what you had. You knew you had a recording of a fresh murder scene, and you didn't care.” Kyra watched him squirm in the chair.

  "Today, you notified every loved one Constable Casey Mills had that she was dead. They saw her lying dead in that filthy alleyway, and it is entirely your fault. Every news station in the country will pick up that footage, and just in case there is someone that knew Constable Casey Mills and didn't see your disgusting display, they can tune in to the station of their choice to see that crap that you thought was news. How does it feel to be chosen by a psycho? He considers you his voice, his outlet to the world."

  "You can't be serious.” Jeff paled further, his hands clenched into fists.

  "He'll watch you. You should be careful not to disappoint him.” Kyra stood.

  "You have to protect me."

  "I have to go find a dead cop."

  * * * *

  They found her two blocks from her apartment. The Anti-Crime unit she'd been assigned to skirted the edge of the scene, keeping reporters and onlookers away. Senior Inspector Liz Givens was off to Kyra's left, silent and watchful. Kyra hadn't made any effort to remove her, and wouldn't as long as she didn't interfere.

  "Is she married?"

  Ana shook her head. “No. Had a live-in, but they broke up. Her mom lives in New York.” She firmed up her mouth as she watched Kyra work over the body. She'd insisted on coming to the scene once it had been located and she regretted it. “She didn't have any tattoos."

  He'd taken a small patch of skin shaped like a badge over her heart. Her real badge had been found under her body.

  "Get on your comm-u and find out why Parker isn't here.” Kyra straightened and looked at Liz Givens. “If you want on the task force, I won't fight it."

  "She was good. When you requested that I take her on, I was surprised.” Liz shrugged. “You don't make a habit of recommending someone. You did, so I took her seriously.” She looked away from the body. “I want in. I have a strong unit; we can do a lot of the street work."

  "Yeah.” Kyra stood. “Give me two hours, then meet me back at the station."

  Liz's gaze went to Ana, who had walked quickly away from the body, her back rigid. “Is your partner going to hold?"

  "She will.” Kyra looked down to Casey Mills and wondered if she would. “She wasn't stupid, and she wasn't weak."

  "No, she never would have gone with a stranger. I'd circulated your perp's pictures through my unit this morning; she wouldn't have gone with him.” Liz sighed. “Mills was a solid cop with decent instincts."

  She would have if she'd known him, Kyra thought. Had Casey Mills gone home to a man she thought she could trust? Had she jokingly told him how much he resembled the pictures she'd viewed that morning of a suspected serial killer? Maybe she'd never know what happened, though she would have preferred to know if Casey had been a bad cop or not.

  * * * *

  Ana bent from the waist and leaned against Kyra's vehicle. She had never thrown up on a scene, and for the love of all that was holy, she never would. The closer she'd gotten to Casey's body, the more hurt she'd become. Hurt, furious, and so cold. She rubbed her arms and closed her eyes.

  "Constable?"

  She jerked up, then slumped a little when she saw Dr. Parker. “The inspector is looking for you."

  "Yes.” Jeffrey nodded and touched Ana's shoulder. “You think she won't respect you if you show weakness?"

  "I don't know,” she whispered. “I don't think I can risk it."

  "Constable Mills was your friend."

  "Yes."

  "Mourn her, Ana. I know you won't do it now, but give in to it soon, or you'll be no good to Kyra and no good to yourself."

&nb
sp; * * * *

  Kyra finished taping her knuckles and tightened her hands into fists. She had to get it out, get it out before it got someone killed. Barefoot, she faced off with a punching bag and swung hard. Sweat poured and fury flowed with each motion of her body. The bag swung out against her, and she responded instantly. But it wasn't abating; she pounded on the bag until her arms ached with it. The fury lingered. She'd stood over a dead cop and, though she would never admit it, had been punished for not taking the killer's needs seriously.

  He wanted attention; she knew that. He wanted her attention. He'd damn well get it. Leaving the abused bag swinging, she went into the locker room and stripped out of the sweats and sports bra she'd put on. The other women in the locker room were quiet—they always were when they knew she was in there—but this was even different from the usual. Cops died in the line of duty. It was something they all accepted. But to be taken like Casey Mills had been just wasn't considered.

  She showered quickly and dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the NOPD logo on it. Kyra had nothing to say to the other women, nothing that would comfort them. She just hoped that they found that comfort somewhere. The rest of the station was loud and chaotic; at least that was normal. The Major Crimes unit was like a tomb, everyone working quietly and no one getting a damn thing done.

  The moment she entered, the six detectives stood and followed along after her. The Anti-Crime unit of four men and three women already sat in the conference room, and Casey Mills's photo had been added to the victim board. Ana was the last to enter, and she looked as solid as ever. Kyra knew it was a show, but she was willing to let her partner have it. She had to hold up, because it was what cops did.

  The conference room was no bigger than the first room they'd started using for the task force, but it was more private. She noticed that Ana had already seen that the murder board and the suspect board had been moved into the room. The images of the suspected killer and his victims were prominently displayed. It was a constant reminder of what they were doing and why they were doing it.