by Vella Day
Ethan stood. “Lake Keystone isn’t our jurisdiction. Why are we involved, Cap?”
“The sheriff over there called. He doesn’t have the manpower to handle the salvage. The HOPEFAL lab has a dive team on standby, so he called them in, and they called us. We’re there simply to assist. You okay with that?”
“Yup. Do you think this case is related to one of ours?”
“Always possible.”
Captain Willard spun around before either of them had a chance to ask for more details.
Ethan looked down at him. “What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.” Answers and assurances, two things he wouldn’t get unless he got his ass into the car and saw the scene for himself.
During the thirty-minute ride to the four hundred plus acre lake, he and Ethan batted around possible persons of interest for Lara’s case but came up empty-handed.
Police cars, vans, and cruisers lined the crime scene along the north shore, one of the few areas where houses didn’t butt up against the water. He and Ethan strode over to a clearing, forty feet from the water’s edge. The Medical Examiner had set up a portable table next to a drop cloth that contained his tools of the trade.
His brother patted him on the back. “What do you make of all this?”
“Me?”
“You have a lot more experience as a homicide detective than I do.”
“Four whole years.”
“Still more.”
He shrugged and checked out the Medical Examiner’s badge. The nametag read, Willows.
A CSU tech rushed up and handed the ME a severed arm sticking out of a paper bag that was missing a hand. Before Trevor could ask any questions, a diver shouted from the water. As the two of them rushed to the lake, mud oozed over the top of his shoes. This was definitely not his day.
Three men in scuba gear trudged onto land. Two carried a headless female torso tied down with cement blocks, and the third carried a leg. Trevor’s gut soured.
He and Ethan followed them back up to the ME’s cordoned off area. Trevor stepped up to the diver who looked in charge and flashed his badge. “Where exactly did you find her?”
The divers deposited what was left of the body on the plastic drop cloth. “Everywhere. There’s a swift current at the bottom. We found the torso about twenty-feet from the arm, but the leg was a good hundred yards away. Never did find either hand or the rest of her. The lake’s big.”
Willows looked up at the diver. “So where’s the damn head?”
The diver ripped off his headgear. “With all due respect, with the mud and sludge down there, we were lucky to find what we did. As I told this guy, the current’s a bitch.”
“Bitch or not. I need the head.”
The spokesman turned back to the other two divers. “Let’s go, men.” His voice came out gruff.
Trevor studied the remains. Given the amount of soft tissue still on the body, he guessed the woman had been submerged less than a week.
Ethan spun around and trotted toward the water.
Trevor went after him. “What are you thinking?”
“We’ve got a real psycho on our hands.”
“Ya think?”
Ethan shoved a hand in his pocket and looked out over the lake. “Those divers better find that head.”
“What we really need is for this case to have no relation to mine or yours. I don’t want this sick bastard near Lara.”
“Amen.”
For over ten minutes, they watched the divers surface, motion to each other, and dive again. He turned to his brother. “We’re wasting our time here. Let’s see what the doc has come up with.”
They picked their way back across the soggy path to the ME’s camp. Willows glanced up.
“Do you have a fix on the time of death?” Trevor asked.
“Once the divers give me the temperature at the bottom of the lake, I’ll have a more precise estimate.”
“A guess is good.”
“I’d say two, three days tops.” Doc Willows lifted a thick rope attached to three cement blocks wound around the woman’s waist. “Algae didn’t have time to grow on the line, which means she hasn’t been down long.”
Trevor squatted to get a different view of the body. Without the head, identification would be hard but not impossible. He hadn’t received any missing persons calls in the last week, but if her chipped, black toenail polish, silver toe ring, and lack of sagging skin were any indication of her age, he’d say she was no more than twenty. What would possess someone to kill like this?
Ethan pointed to the yellow, braided rope. “What do you make of the knot? It’s rather unusual.” His gaze shot between him and the ME.
Dr. Willows leaned closer. “Never was into Boy Scouts, myself.”
Trevor knew. “It’s a bowline. The sucker will secure anything. I use it all the time when I rock climb. I’ll have to hand it to him. The scumbag did his research. He probably calculated the body weight to determine how much cement he needed to keep her submerged. Those blocks weren’t going anywhere. That knot, and this rope, will hold down hundreds of pounds. I guess he thought that if he tucked the severed arm under the body, it would stay submerged.”
Dr. Willows shot him a thumbs up.
He and Ethan stepped back to let the ME complete his examination. As Willows was finishing, the divers returned.
Willow’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t find anything?”
“Sorry, Doc. No luck.” The lead diver glanced at the sky. “A storm’s brewing and the wind’s kicking up. Visibility is getting near zero. We can try again tomorrow if you wish.”
His shoulders relaxed somewhat. “I’d appreciate it.”
Trevor stepped closer to the doc. “You going to send her to HOPEFAL?”
“Those were my instructions. One less body to process suits me just fine.”
He gave the doc some room and turned to Ethan. “Somebody has to be missing her. I want to check back at the office to see if anyone called her in while we were here.”
“You’re the boss.”
After giving the ME his card, he and Ethan headed back. At his desk, Trevor checked his three phone messages. “Shit.”
Ethan leaned back in his squeaky chair and swiveled toward him. “What?”
“I think we may have found her.”
“Who?”
“Our Keystone Lake woman.”
“That was fast. Who is she?”
He glanced down at his pad. “Mary Reed. Her mother called to report her missing. You won’t believe her ethnicity.”
“Don’t tell me she’s Native American?” Ethan reached across his desk and scooped up his coffee mug.
Trevor could use some black sludge right now. “Right on.” He sure as hell hoped this case wasn’t related to his missing Seminoles.
“What’s with you and those Indians? Eight of ten missing people have been from the same tribe.”
“Can we say vendetta?” There must be some clue he wasn’t seeing. Lara’s first impression was that of a hate crime, and maybe she’d been right.
“Our killer must not be a Native American.”
“That would be my guess. I don’t know what good that detail does us.” Trevor studied the name, trying to remember if he’d heard the last name of Reed before.
“What about the note to Lara. Could this be the same guy?”
Part of him wanted there to be a connection to help solve the crime, but another part didn’t want this filth in any way connected to her. “I don’t think so. Referring to Lara as an Indian Princess implies he likes Native Americans.” He leaned forward. “It’s almost as if he reveres them, or her, for some reason.”
Ethan took a sip of his coffee and his face relaxed. “If there is a connection to either case, the part that sickens me the most is the fact our serial killer is now gunning for women.”
His thoughts shot to Lara. Her dark coloring and long hair might fool the killer into thinking she was Seminole. Damn. �
�You aren’t helping. I’m going over to HOPEFAL to see if I can learn anything from the pathologist.”
Ethan glanced up at the large clock on the opposite wall. “I bet the body’s not even on the slab yet.”
“I’ll take my chances.” It wasn’t the only reason he wanted to go. He wanted, no needed, to make sure Lara was okay. “Mary’s mom told me about some identifying markings I should check out.”
“Did you tell her about the dismemberment?”
He fisted his hands. “Hell, no. I’d never mention the horror until we’re sure it’s her daughter. Do you want to come?”
“I have enough to keep me busy. Have fun.”
Right. Trevor shoved back his chair and nearly toppled it. On his way out, he made a cup of not-so-hot java to go. Outside, the day had turned both chilly and drizzly, a far cry from the typical Florida spring day. The small storm that had swept through the area had yet to dissipate. He debated calling Lara to let her know he was on the way but decided he’d let her work a little longer before he interrupted her.
Twelve minutes later, he pulled into the HOPEFAL parking lot. He checked the area for anyone who might be waiting for Lara to leave. Everyone looked like they had a purpose.
After signing in with the guard on duty, Trevor took the stairs to the second floor. The elevator was too damned slow. He punched in the key code to her lab and waited for the door to swing open. “Hey, Lara?”
No answer. Trevor looked around. She wasn’t there, but one of the gurneys in the middle of the room held remains. The hair on his neck bristled. Had Bernie done something to her? Trevor rushed out and headed straight for Phil Tedesco’s office. The head honcho might know where to find her, but Phil’s office was also vacant, and the secretary wasn’t at her desk. Damn.
As he strode back into the hallway, he nearly collided with Gina.
She grabbed his arms to stop him from plowing her over. “Hey, Trevor.”
“Do you know where Lara might be? She’s not in her lab.”
“Something wrong?”
Other than he needed to see she was okay? “No.”
Gina blew out a breath. “She’s in pathology. Eric Markowitz is doing the autopsy on the unidentified headless woman Pasco County sent over. We might need her to take a look at her once Eric finishes his examination.” Her eyes widened. “Have you found Lara’s intruder?”
He forced his shoulders to remain strong. “I wish. Where’s the lab?”
Gina told him where to find Lara, and he hightailed it down the stairs. With the butt of his gun, he rapped hard on the heavy steel door. A few moments passed before a thin male dressed in scrubs allowed him access.
“I’m looking for Lara.” As soon as Trevor spotted her, the tension left his body. He flashed his badge and slipped by the attendant.
The lab was set-up similar to hers, except there was no maceration station, and the far wall had more autopsy drawers than Lara’s. The ongoing autopsy also had an officer present.
The pathologist nodded and waved to get Lara’s attention.
Lara turned around, and her bright smile lifted a heavy veil from around his heart—a heart he’d shut down two years ago.
With as much ease as he could muster, he nodded to the officer witnessing the autopsy and stepped toward the work in progress. The gurney was hanging over a blood-filled sink, and containers on the counter held the removed organs.
“Mind suiting up, Mr. Kinsey?” Dr. Markowitz said, a slight smile touching his lips.
“Sure thing.”
“Allan, can you get the detective some gear?”
The lab tech’s lips peeled back into a sneer. He gathered the necessary coverings and tossed the pile at Trevor. What was his problem?
Once gowned, Trevor returned to the gurney. “Did you determine cause of death?” He kept his tone as even as possible as he looked everywhere but at Lara.
“No,” the pathologist said with more swagger than Trevor had expected. “Whoever did this, cut off her head, arms, and legs with a chainsaw. So if she was strangled, beaten about the face or shot in the head, I wouldn’t be able to tell.” His slightly bowed shoulders deflated. “I’ll do a tox screen, but I don’t expect to find much.”
“Chainsaw? Someone’s been watching too many horror movies. Do you have a time of death?”
“In the last forty-eight hours.”
That matched the ME’s estimate, take or give a day. He told them about Mary Reed and the time she’d disappeared. “Her mom said she had her appendix taken out.”
Dr. Markowitz’s cheeks sagged. “Our victim is missing hers, but there are a lot of people who’ve had their appendixes taken out. Did her mother mention a butterfly tattoo?”
Crap. “The first thing I asked about was any markings. She said her daughter didn’t have any tattoos because the dad would have disowned her.”
Eric held up the victim’s arm where a colorful butterfly tattoo was etched on her inner wrist. “Then I guess you need to keep looking for this woman’s identity.”
Christ. He wanted one case to go smoothly. He touched Lara’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you outside for a moment?”
She widened her eyes. “Why?”
Always questioning. “I want you to—”
“I know. This girl could be Native American and I need to be careful.”
How did she read his mind so quickly? “In a nutshell. Yes.” His cell buzzed. He slipped it from his pocket and held up a finger. “It’s Ethan, excuse me.” He pressed the On button. “Yeah.”
“Is the woman in the lab Mary Reed?”
“No.”
“Figured. Another call came in, and you’re never going to believe what I found out.”
7
Maggie Sanchez turned off the television and froze. At the sound of the lock turning on the outside door, she hurried into the bedroom. Chemical Guy, or CG, as she’d dubbed him, always wanted her in bed when he came to visit. Damn. She hadn’t made the bed, but every time she washed the sheets, they tore more.
“Maggie?”
She smelled her pits, and the stench overwhelmed her, but he’d shut off the water two days ago as a way to punish her, because she hadn’t given him a blowjob the way he liked it. After seven months of doing whatever he demanded, she still hadn’t learned how to please him, or so he said.
The bedroom door burst open with such force the wood nearly came off the hinges. Shit. His scowl told her tonight would be difficult.
“When I call, you answer.” He spit. “This place is a sty.”
Like she didn’t know that? “I can’t clean without water.”
“Don’t whine. You don’t clean with water. You want me to start cutting you again? Would that help you remember how to keep this place up?”
“Please, don’t.” Maggie scooted closer to the metal headboard and rubbed the scars on her arms, places where he’d scarred her with his reminders.
Be brave. Don’t let him see you cower. She could almost hear her husband’s voice from above urging her to stand up to this monster.
CG took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the only chair in the room. As he unzipped his pants, Maggie’s hand automatically grabbed her shirt. She wasn’t sure she could take another rape. She always tried to be good and tried not to scream when he entered her, but the pain and humiliation had worn her down over the last few months.
He slipped off his pants and kept his focus on her. “You’re so beautiful.”
Psycho man. She looked a mess and he knew it. “Thank you, and thank you for the computer program.” Her lips quivered as she tried to smile.
She had been happy he’d given her something to do all day. With the windows boarded up and no telephone or Internet, she needed entertainment. Thankfully, the television had rabbit ears. The reception sucked, but it was better than nothing.
“Stand up. I want to see you.”
She didn’t know what kind of game he was playing going from mean to nice, but she obe
yed. When he lifted his wrists above her head to spin her around, his body odor weakened her knees. And here, she thought she smelled bad. Something hard in the carpet pricked the bottom of her feet and she winced.
“You’re too thin. You need to eat more.”
“Sure.” She’d say anything not to piss him off.
The scent of paint thinner clung to him. Or was it the smell of gasoline? From his fancy suits, he wasn’t a mechanic. Or did he dress up when he came to visit? Wherever he came from or whatever he did for a living, she wished he’d change his profession.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to picture the karate moves she’d practiced from the exercise channel on TV. If she tried to hurt him and lost, he’d kill her for sure.
The monster slipped her shirt over her head, lowered his mouth, and then bit her nipple hard. Bastard.
Dare she knee him in the balls now? Why hadn’t she hidden a knife so she could stab him in the heart?
Oh, yeah. He’d taken all of the sharp utensils out of the kitchen.
For a moment, Maggie tried to imagine it was her husband caressing her body, but he chomped on her other nipple, and blood dripped down her chest. “Ow.”
She instinctively pulled away, and he slapped her hard enough for her head to snap back. Tears burned her eyes and struggled to keep the fear off her face.
“Did I hurt you, my sweet?” He dragged a hand down her cheek, and then shoved a finger in her mouth. She gagged.
If she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d chain her up again, or worse, beat her. Maggie pulled away to answer. “No.”
“You’re pretty when you lie.” He smoothed a hand down her head, and she forced away the shivers. “You are such a lovely princess, but I may have a place for you after all.” He reached into his jacket pocket, took out a Swiss Army knife, and waved the blade in her face. “Now for your lesson.”
Not that Lara didn’t appreciate staying in Trevor’s one-bedroom apartment, but her options were unfortunately limited, or rather non-existent. He said it would only be for a day or two, but she’d been there five. She could handle the cramped quarters a few more days, but if the repairman didn’t show up to fix her locks soon, she’d have to insist she stay at a hotel. A few times the sheriff’s department had called and asked Trevor to come into work, and he’d told them he couldn’t leave her alone. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden.