Then there was Paige. Our relationship was at a stalemate; it was either us or our jobs.
Fast-forward to the present with Becky… The job had gotten in the way again. Or that was the gist of it. If there hadn’t been a last-minute investigation out of state, we’d still be together. And maybe I should have just told her, but it’s not like I’d intentionally kept it from her. I had gotten caught up in the case quickly; it hadn’t been personal. And she was well aware of my fluid work schedule. Come to think of it, she hadn’t given me the benefit of the doubt in any of her messages. She’d basically just attacked me as having abandoned her, as if there had been something I could have done about it.
A knot settled in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I didn’t have a broken heart, but I was disappointed. At least there were some perks to bachelorhood. I wouldn’t have to worry about Valentine’s Day or romantic gestures, for one.
“Earth to Brandon.”
I snapped out of my thoughts to see Paige waving her hand in front of my face, and I smiled.
What had I missed?
Jack had called someone on speaker and the line was ringing.
“Hey, everyone,” Nadia answered, sounding wide-awake. “All right, I have a lot of info for you guys.”
“We like to hear that,” Paige chimed in with a smile.
Zach raised his cup as if he were toasting the air.
I just took a long draw on my coffee.
“I’ll start with the men who found the remains—Tucker and Graham. You asked me to see if I could find another connection between them besides possibly running into each other at the plantation. Well, my searches into their finances didn’t turn up anything in common. They don’t even go to the same grocery store.”
“What about properties registered to either one of them?” Jack asked.
“Only their houses.”
Dead end there.
“Now Holt…” Nadia paused. “Records show he was arrested last night?”
Paige slid her gaze to me, and there was a slight curve to her lips. At least we knew if Holt was the killer, there wouldn’t be any more murders with him behind bars. I smiled at her.
“That’s right,” Zach confirmed. “Paige and I got a front-row seat.”
“I’d love to hear that story, but as I said, I have a lot to share. Holt’s search didn’t show any properties in his name. He’s renting the house where he lives now, and I have the landlord’s information if you want it.”
“Just keep it handy,” Jack said.
“Will do. Now, I looked for cases that were similar in Michigan and did find one from five years ago in Lansing. A woman’s body was found in the Red Cedar River.”
“An entire body?” I said. “That’s different from what we have here.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Nadia said. “The body was severed into pieces, and everything but the hands and feet were found.”
Jack sat up straighter and leaned on the table. “ID on the victim?”
“A prostitute by the name of Esther Pearson.”
“Our unsub could have been working out his MO. Took someone who might not be missed,” Zach reasoned.
“The victims we’re trying to identify don’t seem to have been reported missing by anyone,” I reminded the others. “Coincidence? Maybe not. Maybe the unsub has been killing transients or young men who live or work on the streets.”
Jack nodded. “Were there any suspects?”
“None. The case went cold.”
“Send us the information so we have it,” he directed.
“Done.”
I no sooner heard a mouse key click on Nadia’s end than Jack’s phone chimed with a new message.
“Do you want me to dig into people who moved from Michigan to Savannah, Georgia?” she asked.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Jack responded.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hold on, Nadia,” Jack said to her, and then to the person at the door, “Come in.”
Lieutenant Pike entered, and his jaw was as hard-set as his eyes. “More remains have just been pulled from the river.”
“Nadia—”
“I heard.” She disconnected, and we all hurried out of the room.
-
Chapter 12
KILLING WAS THE BEST SEDATIVE. Just knowing that the time was coming had allowed him to fall asleep the second his head had hit the pillow last night, and now the clock on his nightstand told him it was almost noon.
He got out of bed and opened the curtains, letting the sun spill in and blanket him in its warm glow. Closing his eyes, he bathed in its splendor. His breath was calm and deep as he got down onto his knees and spread his arms heavenward, giving thanks for not just another day but for the blessing of life. Not his, but what would be the beginning of another offering.
He remained there in a meditative state, letting his consciousness drift to the other realm, a place far too few visited or were even aware of. But it was in this stillness that he found his true self, his identity, and his purpose, where he became centered and focused on the seriousness of his mission.
He wrapped himself in a black robe and shuffled downstairs and out the back door. He stood on the patio facing the riverbank with his eyes closed.
As the sun warmed his eyelids, he imagined himself being carried up toward the sky, merging with the flames, the source of life, and shedding his human form. He knew that he belonged somewhere else—a different plane of existence—but the physical required roots. So for now, he was grounded.
He remained standing there until the sun ducked behind a cloud, the shadows casting over him. He opened his eyes and knew. It was time.
His stride was full of purpose as he returned inside to where he kept the man in a dimly lit room. He closed the door behind him and headed for the preparation room.
The man was standing, restrained at the wrists and ankles, and held up by a clasp around his neck. His arms and legs were stretched out like rays of sunshine. The offering was free to talk, but his spirit had become broken with the passage of time and he rarely whispered a word.
The preparation room was about eight feet by ten feet and boxed off within a larger room where he made the sacrifice—a room within a room. The floors were poured concrete, and there were drainage holes—both practical investments. In the corner of the preparation room, there was a small table where he kept his supplies, including a knife. He’d grabbed it as he’d entered.
He ran the back of a hand along the offering’s cheek. “Soon, it will be your time.”
The offering trembled beneath his touch, and tears streaked down his cheeks. “No, please…” he pleaded, but his eyes disclosed a resignation to his fate.
The man sobbed heavily. “I…have…a…family.”
“And you will be honored.” He lifted the blade, jabbing the point toward the offering’s lips. “Now open your mouth.”
“No!” The offering thrashed, but the restraint around his neck didn’t leave much room for mobility. The chains around his wrists and ankles clanged against the concrete as he tried to worm his body away from his captor and closer to the wall. As if that would stop him…
He grabbed the offering’s jaw with one hand, tempted to squeeze hard enough to pop the bones out of joint, but he preferred to dole out torture in increments so that each infliction could be fully felt.
The offering was mumbling incoherently. He opened the man’s mouth with sheer force and slid the knife inside.
The offering’s eyes grew large and panicky, sweat beaded on his forehead and face, but none of that would stop the enviable.
He swiped the blade inside the offering’s mouth, and blood poured out. He withdrew the fine morsel, taking for himself what he saw fit. Words were no longer necessary.
-
&n
bsp; Chapter 13
PIKE TOLD US WHERE TO GO—nicely, of course—and the four of us split up in the two SUVs and followed his directions.
A man’s torso and a human skull had been pulled from the river at the outer edge of Blue Heron Plantation, but the easiest way to get there would be by going through the property.
At the end of the road, next to the river, there was a cluster of local law-enforcement vehicles, including one belonging to Forensics.
I barely waited for Jack to stop our SUV before jumping out. For my enthusiasm, I received a mild glare as Jack snubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray—yes, he was smoking again.
Paige and Zach parked behind us and the four of us approached three male investigators who were standing around a tarp that would hold the remains.
The skull was simply bone, and it was intact except for the lower mandible. The face could still be reconstructed. The torso had skin, though, and it appeared to be blue, but the coloring didn’t look like it was from natural decomposition.
I crouched down on my haunches beside it, stupidly banking on adrenaline to help me process the scene in front of me.
Flies were buzzing all around the area, and bugs crawled over the torso. It stank beyond belief. I held my breath, hoping the nausea would abate.
Taking a closer look at the torso, I realized my initial assumption about the blue coloring had been correct. There appeared to be a coating on the skin. A type of paint perhaps?
Beneath the blue, however, I could see that the skin was pale. We were looking at another Caucasian male. The sockets where the arms and legs would have been attached at one time were badly decayed. But, hopefully, the medical examiner could confirm or retract his previous thought about the limbs being torn at the joints.
There was something else, though: a horizontal slice going across the chest on the left side, a couple inches down from the nipple. I looked over a shoulder to my team. “I think his heart was removed.” I could barely slide the statement from my throat.
“We think so, too,” one of the investigators said. “An on-call ME’s on his way. We’ll know for sure soon enough.”
“Where did you pull the remains from?” Jack asked.
I went back to standing.
The same investigator pointed off to the left of where the road met the river. “Just right there.”
“Outside of the plantation property?” Jack put his hands on his waist and turned to Pike. “You had men watching over the river in this area last night?”
“I did.”
“And they kept a low profile?”
Pike crossed his arms. “Absolutely. They were under strict orders to do so and to keep their distance.”
“Now, if a boat or a person had come along—”
“If they’d been close to the perimeter of the property, my guys would have seen them,” Pike stated.
Jack turned to his team. “Things have changed. Our unsub might not be as closely connected to the plantation as we had thought. We had Nadia look at similar cases in Michigan. It’s time to have her look for similar crimes here in Savannah.”
My eyes drifted to the skull. The skin had been removed from the arms and leg found previously, but there had been muscle tissue left over. Was the head only bone because of bacteria, or a predator, or was it just further along in its decomposition? And assuming it had something to do with the latter, what caused the different rates of decomp? All the remains were pulled from the river. It was likely the victims weren’t killed at the same time, but there had to be more.
“Ah, guys…” Everyone looked at me. “Remember that case we worked near Dumfries?” It was a stupid way to start; there’d be no way any of them would forget. “I’ve just been thinking about rate of decomposition and trying to figure out where the remains might be coming from.”
“The Dumfries victims were buried near water,” Paige said.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Maybe we’re looking at that here.”
“You’re thinking these victims were buried and then their remains were carried out to the river?” Pike’s brow raised, skeptical.
“Exactly. It could explain the slower decomposition, as well, that led us to believe these victims were killed more recently.”
“I’m also going to have Nadia take a look for missing twentysomething white males within twenty miles of Savannah going back, say, ten years.” Jack had his phone to his ear by the time he was finished talking. “Nadia?”
“Have you had any heavy rain lately?” Zach asked Pike.
“Yeah.” Pike glanced at one of the investigators. “What, two weeks ago?”
The investigator nodded.
“Around the time the first set of remains were found?”
“It rained for at least three days on end,” Pike added.
“Savannah’s already below sea level. Then combine a shallow grave with heavy rainfall…” I let my words trail off.
“You think the killer was stupid enough to risk burying his victims near the river?” Pike retorted.
The three of us were looking at him until our conversation from a few seconds ago seemed to strike.
“Ah, guess it’s been done before,” Pike said.
“If this is the case, it could potentially tell us something else about our killer or killers. They might not be concerned about the bodies being found,” I added.
Pike’s brows were raised again. “Keeping in line with that theory, why bury them at all, then?”
“The lieutenant has a point, Brandon,” Paige treaded delicately. “I don’t think our unsub wanted the bodies to be found.”
Pike continued. “Then that means if they see the local news—”
“It might cause them to act,” Zach concluded.
Pike faced Zach. “Why not keep a low profile?”
I had the answer to that one. “They’ve already been exposed. Self-defense instinct will kick in. They also might want to prove they have something over us—intelligence, power.”
There was the crunching of tires, and a news van was pulling in. Before the van stopped, a cameraman jumped out along with a reporter.
“Get them out of here!” Pike barked to anyone who’d carry out his order.
An officer took care of it, and the newspeople were sent on their way.
I looked past the tarp to the river. There was a boat out there, and investigators were wading in the water, combing for more remains.
Zach gestured to the river. “I could probably calculate the distance the appendages could have traveled by factoring in regular water flow and comparing it to the higher water levels. I’ll just need access to a computer and few minutes.”
Pike nodded and glanced at an investigator, who waved Zach over, saying, “This way!”
If Zach could pull this off, we just might be able to figure out where the limbs had come from.
-
Chapter 14
MY GAZE WENT BACK TO the remains in front of us, and I refocused. What sort of killer were we looking for? Running on the assumption the bodies had previously been buried, we were likely searching for an unsub who preferred isolation for their murders.
I was running through our unsub’s profile when Zach returned to the group. Not that I consulted my watch, but I didn’t think he’d been gone five minutes. He looked at Pike. “Are there any areas within, say, ten miles that are either public or obscured property?”
“There are easily hundreds of houses along the river, and there’s definitely not enough manpower to go from door to door,” the lieutenant responded.
“What about having officers go down the river and look along the banks?” Jack asked.
Pike wiped his forehead with his arm. “Could be done, for sure. Not sure how much they’d see, but you never know. I’ll have that arranged.”
“Thank you.
”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. It was rare for Jack to verbalize his gratitude.
“Yep. There are some public areas I know off the top of my head, as well. We could have officers go in on foot to check those.”
“Sounds good.”
Pike pulled out his phone, but Jack held up his hand. “Before you call…”
Pike stopped, his finger poised over his cell phone.
Jack filled him in on the prostitute found in Red Cedar River. “Get some uniforms or detectives on the street, too, and have them ask around about missing vagrants and prostitutes.”
Pike put his phone back to his ear, walked off a few feet, and started making arrangements.
I glanced at Zach, whose gaze was fixed on the tarp and the remains. He had that glazed-over look in his eyes he’d get when he was deep in thought. “What are you thinking, Zach?”
“Hmm?” He looked up at me. “Oh. Well, I don’t think this guy’s just adhering to a MO… I think he’s conducting a ritual.”
Based on the flicker in his eyes, this was going to be good. “Go ahead,” I said.
“This is just a theory, and it might be a reach, but I am going by what’s in front of me. We have two missing hands and a missing foot, both of which were cut off. It’s an assumption—but also a likelihood—that the unsub does this to all his victims.” Zach gestured to the torso. “Now, we have a missing heart. Add to this, the blue coloring of this torso.” He paused, his gaze going to each of us. “Did any of you study the Mayans when you were in school?”
I was no history major but the mention of the Mayans brought human sacrifice immediately to mind. “They cut people’s still-beating hearts out of their chests.”
Oh, this wasn’t good. If Zach was right, there’d be nothing textbook about this, not that most serial killers fit neatly into a predefined package. In fact, with each new case, I wondered how the next would top the last, but somehow they always came to us more gruesome and depraved than the previous.
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