by Virna DePaul
But just as he knew she would, Lana continued to argue with him. “You’re right. She was already at a heightened level of anxiety because of the newness of the situation. Having to shoot someone on the job is always a risk. Whether it’s the bad guy or an innocent that dies, chances are good that someone’s going to. She couldn’t do it then, yet you’ve assigned her to a serial case that’s bound to end up in more deaths. I just don’t think she’s ready to deal with that.”
Simon immediately recognized the unspoken message behind her words and wanted to howl with frustration. Lana hadn’t been able to deal with it, hadn’t been able to live with the implications of Simon’s job, especially once he’d chosen to go back on the streets. And he wasn’t willing to give it up.
Rationally, he understood she was just protecting herself. But, God, he missed her. It had been weeks since they’d been together. Weeks of trying to forget her. And finally realizing that no matter how many women he slept with, she would always be the one he thought of when he went to bed at night and when he woke in the morning. “Lana…”
She cleared her throat. “So please tell the commander that my recommendation remains the same. I’d be happy to talk to him further if he likes.”
He stared at her. Her body language gave nothing away. Usually, people saw only what she wanted them to see. But he knew there was more. He saw the regret in her beautiful blue eyes. Echoing his own.
“All right. Thank you.”
She nodded. Looked at a point somewhere over his right shoulder. “Goodbye.”
Refusing to respond, Simon watched her walk away. Again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CARRIE HUNG UP THE PHONE and turned to Jase, who was sitting at this own desk at SIG headquarters. “Well, looks like you’ll have me out of your hair soon,” she said brightly, hoping to mask the disappointment she was feeling. “My place is finally ready. I’ll have to shop for a new sofa and stuff, but other than that…”
He nodded. “That’s great, Carrie. And they even caught the guys who did it. Looks like you’re in luck.”
“Right. Luck.” The cops had gotten a positive ID on two known gangbangers who used to run with Kevin Porter. That his gang had taken revenge on her didn’t surprise her, but the fact they’d chosen to do it on her own personal turf did. They had to have followed her to her house without her knowing, and that reminded her of how vigilant she had to be given the kind of work she did. It was too easy to let down her guard and pretend she was safe.
Even though it wasn’t fair, her thoughts about the gang members led her to another: Jase, and the way she’d let her guard down around him. Granted, they’d only made love the one night, but each day they were together, she could feel her defenses deteriorating more and more where he was concerned. Talk about dangerous. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, trying to work out the kinks that had settled into her back. “If I was lucky, we’d get a damn break on this case.”
“We’ll get there.” With that and one last enigmatic look, he returned his attention to his file.
Days had passed since they’d made love and, amazingly, the mutual desire between them had ceased to be a source of tension as they worked on the more pressing matter of finding a killer. In truth, they didn’t have time for anything else. All their energy went to tracking down leads on the case, and when they had a spare moment, it was to eat or sleep. Though the thought had occurred to her more than once that she should leave Jase’s house and check into a hotel, it hardly seemed worth the effort, given all the time they had to spend together. In a sense, they became the same person, the same cop.
That meant they shared the same frustration, too. It was only a matter of time until the killer struck again. They were hoping that Kelly Sorenson had been a fluke, that the killer would return to his more predictable, slow-moving ways, but they didn’t really believe it. Something had set The Embalmer off course, prompting him to deviate from his routine. Once that happened in these types of cases, it was almost always the beginning of the end.
“Let me know if you need help moving in that new sofa, Ward,” DeMarco said.
She glanced at him. He was walking toward the doorway, jacket in hand. “I will. Thanks.”
DeMarco had returned to SIG two days after they’d discovered Kelly Sorenson’s body. When he did, it was clear something devastating had occurred. He walked around with a dark cloud over him, blowing off any attempt they made to make him feel better. When they finally asked him about Sorenson, he’d stared at them with obvious shock in his eyes. “The brunette who gave Jase her number? She was a hooker? And picked off by your serial killer?”
“A high-class escort,” Carrie clarified. “A picky one normally. But her roommate said she left McGill’s around nine that night with a ‘charity case’ of a client. Those were her words, not mine.”
“Shit.” DeMarco looked at Jase. “Did you keep her card?”
“No. I didn’t. But we got copies. She had two kinds. Purple for social situations, green for business calls.”
DeMarco shook his head. “Figures.”
Carrie and Jase shared a confused glance. “What do you mean?’
“I mean, despite the fact she clearly favored Tyler here, there was something about her I liked.” DeMarco pulled out his wallet and took out a small green card. Carrie immediately recognized the distinctive color and cursed.
“Kelly Sorenson’s business card,” Jase said. “She gave it to you after I left?”
“No. Worse. She disappeared after talking to us, so I snagged it from the bar.”
“She left her calling cards at the bar?”
DeMarco shrugged. “I was talking to the bartender about her. He said they were friends. That I should call her sometime. And he gave me her card. Have you talked to him?”
Carrie shook her head. “Not yet. We’ve been working our way down the list of witnesses from McGill’s. He hasn’t called us back yet.”
“You got his name?” DeMarco asked.
“Lance Reynolds.”
Now, Carrie watched DeMarco leave with a frown on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Jase asked.
Carrie shook her head. “Nothing. But DeMarco doesn’t seem like himself. And he seemed pretty upset about Kelly Sorenson. Like he really liked her or something.”
“He did like her. So did I. She was a likable person. And beautiful.” Jase shrugged. “If he took her card, he was obviously attracted to her. Maybe he actually planned on calling her. It would be a shock, that’s all.”
“Right,” Carrie said. “That’s all. I finally tracked down Lance Reynolds. I’m going to talk to him. You want to come along?”
“You bet,” Jase said.
Once again, they found themselves back at McGill’s. Lance Reynolds denied knowing what Sorenson did for a living. According to him, he’d simply given her card to men he thought his friend would take a liking to.
“Had you ever slept with her?”
“Yes,” Lance said.
“But you didn’t mind finding her other lovers?”
“I wasn’t in love with Kelly, if that’s what you mean. We were together one night. It didn’t mean anything, but we were friends, and I know she liked to have fun. Who she liked to have fun with.”
“Did you see her leave that night?”
“I saw her talking to him and the other one,” Lance said, referring to Jase. “She left soon after that.”
Carrie frowned. “What time?”
“I don’t know. Early. Maybe eight?”
“Susan Ingram says Kelly called her from McGill’s at nine.”
“I saw her leave at eight. I remember because I gave your friend her card a few minutes later, then went on break. Maybe she came back, but I didn’t see her. I worked my shift until the bar closed that night.”
That was something they’d already confirmed. And since the coroner had estimated Kelly’s time of death as approximately 11:00 p.m., that prett
y much put Lance Reynolds in the clear. It also meant DeMarco had the card with her phone number before she’d died.
Jase had wondered if DeMarco had planned to call her. But maybe someone had called her. If they couldn’t find a witness who’d seen her leave with someone, she’d probably have to check Sorenson’s call log to her cell-phone number. That would involve filling out the appropriate paperwork and waiting on the phone company to do their thing. Nonetheless, she added the task to her already extensive list.
That was how things pretty much progressed, with them chasing one lead after another but coming up with absolutely nothing.
One afternoon, in the midst of yet another review of the file, Jase threw his pencil on his desk. He stood, stretching muscles weary from lack of use. Both of them were very active. Used to physical exertion, whether it was on the streets or in a gym. The back-to-back shifts of investigative work were beginning to take their toll.
She was about to suggest he go to the gym when Jase turned to look at her.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Her head throbbing with a persistent headache, one likely spurred on by all the time she’d been spending looking at a computer screen, Carrie leaned back in her chair and frowned. “Where do you want to go?”
“I just need some air. Let’s take a ride. I’ll meet you outside.”
He walked out, not giving her a chance to argue with him. She took her time, needing to remind him and herself that she wasn’t going to jump simply because he snapped his fingers. But she had to admit, she was curious. And excited to be going somewhere with him. Ten minutes later, she couldn’t take it any longer and she met him outside. Silently, he led her to his car, a gorgeous little Mustang that she’d always secretly coveted. At first, he simply drove, luring her out of her dark thoughts with a little fresh air and scenery. About an hour later, he pulled up near the San Francisco Zoo.
“What are we doing here?”
“Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”
There were myriad trails near the zoo that she’d run before. She’d always enjoyed the scenery, and after walking several minutes, she felt some of the tension leave her body. When they worked their way back to the zoo, he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the front entrance where he bought two tickets.
Knowing how restless he’d started to become, she decided to indulge him. They made their way past the flamingos and toward the red panda habitat. At some point, he bought her an ice-cream cone and grabbed her other hand while they walked. The casual gesture of affection felt foreign to her, and she tried to recall the last time she’d held a man’s hand.
To her surprise, she wasn’t sure she ever had.
Such a simple gesture between two people, yet she’d never done it? What a sad commentary on her life. What a sad commentary on who she was, Carrie thought.
She held her arm stiffly for several moments, but by the time they reached the chimpanzee exhibit, she’d finished her cone and had gotten used to the feel of her hand in his. It didn’t take them long to navigate the small zoo, and she felt the sharp pang of disappointment when they reached the exit. She smiled at him.
“Thanks, Jase. That was fun.”
He shook his head. “We’re not done yet. Let’s get some popcorn and do one more lap. I’m not ready to dive back into the case. Not yet. Are you?”
She raised her eyebrows and said nothing. He was in an odd mood. Playful and intense at the same time. She wasn’t sure how to deal with him. But she nodded. Because, no, she wasn’t quite ready to get back to work. Frankly, she was enjoying this time with him too much.
They viewed the animal exhibits a second time. Ate popcorn. Even held hands again, like teenagers at the county fair.
“So about this new sofa you’re going to get? You have anything in mind?”
Startled, she looked at him, unable to believe he actually cared about something like her choice of furniture. “Um—I figured something floral, like the other one I had, would be good.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah, I noticed you go for the flowery stuff.”
“Surprised you, huh?”
“Yes. And, no,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“It surprised me that you’d like a flowery sofa. It didn’t surprise me that you’d keep something like that a secret.”
She stopped in her tracks. “A secret? Because I didn’t advertise it? Listen, Jase—”
He tsked and, making her heart thud against his chest, raised their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I’m going to miss you,” he said quietly.
She stared at him blankly, struggling over what to say, but the words didn’t come easily. Finally, she managed, “Don’t be silly. You’ll see me all the time. We have this case to finish.”
He shrugged. “It won’t be the same. But tell you what, if you need help moving your sofa and DeMarco’s not available, feel free to call me, too. That goes double if you want to talk about the punks the police caught. If you want to talk about anything. Okay?”
With that, he started walking again.
“Yeah, sure,” she responded softly. They took a few steps before she did something completely out of character for her. She raised their still-joined hands in turn and, just as he’d done, kissed his fingers. “Thanks, Jase. You’ve been a good friend through all this.”
“We’ll work on your definition of friendship later, Carrie. Now, let’s head to the parrot cage. I wanna see if I can get ’em to talk again.”
It was an amazing couple of hours that managed to push darker thoughts out of their heads. At least for a brief moment in time.
On the drive back to work, however, the pleasant haze that had surrounded her began to fade. Inevitably, her thoughts returned to work and all the dead ends they’d encountered. She’d heard back from all the local hospitals and funeral homes she’d contacted and none of them had reported thefts of supplies or unauthorized usage of their facilities. It was becoming more and more likely that if The Embalmer was indeed performing gruesome procedures on his victims, he was doing so in a private space, someplace he’d likely retrofitted and stocked between the time he’d moved from Fresno to San Francisco....
“He moved!” Carrie exclaimed.
“What?” Jase asked even as he kept his attention on the road.
“The Embalmer. His first two victims were in Fresno, his next two in San Francisco, with a year in between. I was thinking that the move explained the year lapse, and that he would have used that time to set up shop. Maybe he found a private place to do his work or maybe he renovated his house so it could accommodate his needs.”
“Right. And that makes total sense,” Jase agreed. “Only he’s done his job too well, and we can’t find where he’s holed up.”
“Even so, maybe what we need to be searching for isn’t his location, but his identity.”
Jase frowned then slowed the car. He pulled to the curb and shifted in his seat to face her. “Explain.”
“We know The Embalmer is organized and methodical. What he’s choosing to do to the victims, embalming them and cutting off their eyelids, presenting them in such a meticulous way in the photographs, it hints at someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone who’s been trained for that kind of thing. That’s why we’ve been focusing our efforts, in addition to anyone associated with the college, on finding someone who’s been medically trained, like a doctor or a mortician.”
“I’m still not getting where you’re going with this.”
“Medically trained, Jase,” Carrie said. “As in licensed to practice within a particular state or county. When someone in a licensed profession moves, even within the same state, don’t they have to let the appropriate governing authority know? Wouldn’t that governing authority then keep track of where they’ve set up practice again?”
“Damn, you’re right. Funeral directors and morticians need a license to practice. So do doctors. Lawyers.”
“Since we know he
was in Fresno and is now in San Francisco, we can focus our inquiries on professionals who’ve moved their practice in the past year. Check with whatever licensing agencies might be appropriate, as well as places like the Chamber of Commerce.”
He pulled his car back on the road. “Let’s talk to Stevens. See how many hands we can put to work on this. It’s a good lead, Carrie. A damn good one.”
She settled back into her seat, excited by the prospect of exploring another lead when before there’d been so pitifully few. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jase smiling, as well. When he caught her looking at him, he said, “I told you so, Ward.”
Her eyes rounded with surprise before she laughed in disbelief. “And what, exactly, was it that you told me?”
His eyes widened in mock innocence. “Just that a drive and a breath of fresh air would do you some good. Maybe the next time I make a suggestion, you’ll be more amenable to going with the flow rather than questioning me like you always do.”
He placed a friendly hand on her knee and patted it.
Carrie laughed. Reaching out, she took his hand in hers again. “Maybe I will, Jase.”
* * *
ONCE THEY KNEW WHAT THEY were looking for, it didn’t take them long to come up with a list of names. That was especially true given the manpower Stevens had gathered to help them with their quest. By the next day, after checking with a variety of state agencies, they knew that six doctors had started practices in the San Francisco area in the past year, and two funeral homes had changed ownership. Jase and Carrie were going to spend several hours meeting with the individuals on their list.
The first doctor they visited was a cheery pediatrician who wore brightly colored Adidas. He’d been a keynote speaker at a conference at the time Kelly Sorenson was killed. The second doctor was female, a slight Asian woman with a serious demeanor and a clipped way of speaking. She’d moved from Fresno because her husband had been transferred to the bay area. They’d just returned from a monthlong vacation overseas.