Sinful Deception

by Mel Comley

“Dinner’s ready if some of you yahoos could get enough gumption to set the table,” Nobby called out from the stove. “No shop talk.”

  ~

  Alex toyed with her food and enjoyed the banter of the crowd around the table but was uncomfortably aware of Blake Morgan seated next to her. She felt Nobby’s eyes on her and glared at him.

  Blake leaned over, his breath warm on her face. “Matt should have said no shop thought, either.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t thinking about the case.”

  “Care to share what you were thinking about?” Blake asked.

  “Nothing in particular, just how nice it is to have everyone enjoying themselves. We don’t get that often, and as soon as dinner is over, we’ll jump right into work.”

  “As soon as you go home, grab Dixie and Cinders, and change into your pajamas,” Tamara said. “I brought a bottle of champagne, so we can work and celebrate all at the same time.”

  Chief Brown pushed his plate away. “Well, I hate to leave the party, but I need to get home. And as much as I enjoy seeing my men… and women having a good time, lay off the champagne. I’ll expect all of you at HQ no later than eight. Alex, walk me to the door.”

  Alex moved to push back her chair only to find Blake had already risen and was holding it for her. “Thank you.” She walked beside Chief Brown, the sounds of the table being cleared behind them. “Thank you for coming, sir.”

  He placed his hand on the doorknob. “Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for all of us. In case I forget—happy birthday, Alex.”

  “Thank you, sir. I mean…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Alex. You are who you are, and I couldn’t be more proud of you if you were my own daughter.”

  Alex stood at the door for a moment, watching him walk to his car. She wondered how he’d managed to elude the bodyguards who normally accompanied him everywhere he went.

  Crimshaw walked up beside her. “There’s a big-ass cake in the kitchen with your name on it, and I’m still hungry. Tamara’s refusing to let us have any until you go home, get the animals, and change into pajamas.”

  “For a major detective team and supposedly New York’s finest, you’re all acting like a bunch of kids,” Alex grumbled. “Whoever heard of grown men having a pajama party?”

  Crimshaw chuckled and pushed her through the doorway and onto the porch. “Go on, Alex. It’ll be fun.”

  Alex walked across the dewy grass, mumbling to herself. She wasn’t sure she even had pajamas, and if she did, there weren’t any she wanted Blake Morgan to see her in. At least she would have Dixie and Cinders as a buffer. She climbed the steps and opened the door. An odd smell wafted out into the night air right before a cloth clamped over her nose and mouth. Alex fought against the darkness as he laughed near her left ear. Warm breath flowed across her face. “Happy birthday, love.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The clock struck ten, and an uneasy feeling started in Crimshaw’s gut. Alex had been gone for almost forty-five minutes. How long could it take for a woman to change into pajamas? “Maybe somebody should check on Alex.”

  Tamara downed her glass of champagne and stood up on shaky legs. “This stuff sucks; somebody should have brought some beer.”

  “Beer doesn’t taste good with cake”—Reefer reached for the champagne bottle—”and you’ve had enough.”

  Tamara grinned at him. “I’ll go check on Alex.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Crimshaw said.

  “And what if she isn’t dressed?”

  Crimshaw flicked a finger across the cake icing and popped it into his mouth. “If you ain’t back in ten minutes, I’m eating this.”

  ~

  Tamara stopped on the porch to breathe in the fresh night air. Reefer was right—she’d had enough to drink. She’d have to chug a lot of coffee before they discussed the cases and brought Morgan up to speed. She skipped down the porch steps, chuckling softly to herself. There were sparks between Alex and Morgan, and Nobby was matchmaking to the hilt.

  The apartment was dark, and she started singing “Happy Birthday” as she climbed the steps. “Happy Birthday, dear Alex. Happy birthday to you.” Tamara pounded on the door. “Hey, Alex, Crimshaw is going to have a conniption if you don’t hurry up in there.” She raised her hand to knock again as the door creaked open. “Alex?” Maybe she took Dixie for a run.

  Tamara scanned the street and pushed the door open wider. “Alex? Dixie?” The silence was unnerving, and she stepped through the doorway and flipped on the kitchen light. “Ah shit.”

  Rose petals lined the floor, leading from the kitchen to the bedroom door, which was closed. Tamara instinctively reached for the gun on her belt, cursing when she realized she wasn’t wearing it. “Alex?” She approached the bedroom slowly, swallowed hard, and opened the door. Tears filled her eyes at the ghastly scene in front of her. The room was lit with flickering candles, and every available space was covered with vases of roses in red, pink, yellow, and white, but it was the pale, naked form on the bed that caused bile to rise in her throat. “Dammit!”

  Tamara rushed to the bed to feel for a pulse. Breathing a sigh of relief, she scanned the room quickly then crossed to the closet and pulled out a blanket. She would catch hell for disturbing a crime scene, but she’d be damned if she was going to leave Alex there exposed. Swiping at her eyes, she pulled out her cell and dialed Reefer’s number.

  “What’s keeping you two?”

  “Ben, get everyone up here quick. He’s been here, and I think Alex has been raped.”

  ~

  Chief Brown stood as the doctor walked toward the sullen group seated in the waiting room. “How is she?”

  Dr. Yon handed the chief a slip of paper. “Madder than hell and getting dressed. I wrote a prescription for some sleeping pills, but I doubt you’ll get her to take them.”

  Reefer placed an arm around Tamara’s shoulders. “Was she raped?”

  “We found semen on her stomach but no signs of penetration. We’ve turned that over to evidence for DNA processing.”

  Crimshaw slammed a fist into the wall. “Sick son of a bitch.”

  Chief Brown shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. If you’d let her know we’re waiting on her.”

  “I should have seen this coming.” Blake Morgan flopped into his chair. “He had to know she’d tell you about the phone call and you’d be waiting for him tomorrow.” He glanced at the wall clock. It was already two in the morning. “Make that today.”

  “Shit, Blake, we were all right there, less than two hundred feet away. Even if we thought he was going to pull something, we didn’t think he’d do it that close.” Nobby squirmed on the couch, shifting Cinders to a more comfortable position and moving Dixie off his feet. The two of them had recovered quickly from whatever drug they’d been given, and Nobby had demanded he bring them. Alex would need her best friends. “If we go blaming ourselves, the bastard will sit back and laugh while we’re all falling apart.”

  “She’s coming,” Chief Brown said. “And if eyes could shoot fire, this whole damn hospital would be burned to a crisp.”

  Alex stopped in front of the group, reached for Dixie’s leash, and took Cinders from Nobby’s arms. “I’ll only say this once, if any of you even try to treat me with kid gloves, I’ll kill you. Crimshaw, would you give me a ride home, please?” She turned to Chief Brown. “If it’s okay with you, sir, can we wait until morning to discuss this?”

  “Of course. Why don’t you come home with me, Alex? Forensics will be going over your apartment for the next few hours.”

  “Thank you, but no thank you, sir. I’ll be fine at Nobby’s.”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “All right, but don’t think you have to come in tomorrow. Take all the time you need.”

  Alex turned and headed for the entrance.

  Chief Brown nodded in her direction. “Take care of her, Crimshaw, and from this point on, she doesn’t go anywhere by herse
lf.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Crimshaw kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road. Morgan wasn’t the only one feeling guilty. Alex was his partner, and it was his job to have her back.

  “Don’t,” Alex whispered.

  “Don’t what?” Crimshaw asked.

  “Don’t beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault except the Escape Artist’s.”

  Crimshaw stole a sideways glance at her face. He’d dealt with rape victims before, and although Alex hadn’t been raped, the feelings of violation had to be close to the same. “Do you want to talk about it, Alex? If you don’t, I’ll shut my trap.”

  “I have to give someone a statement—it might as well be you.”

  Crimshaw turned into an empty lot and parked. “I’m listening.”

  “There’s not much I can tell you. The apartment was dark. I noticed the smell as soon as I opened the door, but he had the rag over my mouth and nose before I could think what it was.”

  “Chloroform?” Crimshaw asked.

  “I think so. He said, ‘Happy Birthday, love,’ and that’s all I remember until I woke in the ambulance.”

  Crimshaw started the car and pulled onto the highway. “We’ve got his DNA. We’ll find the bastard this time.”

  “I don’t think so. He was wearing gloves. I remember touching them right before I passed out.”

  “Why wear gloves and leave—”

  “His semen on my stomach?” Alex finished his question. “The logical answer is the semen isn’t his.”

  “Bloody hell, then whose is it?”

  “The obvious choice is Patterson,” Alex said, gently rubbing Cinders’s fur. “You should tell the forensic team to match anything they find against Patterson’s DNA.”

  Crimshaw shivered. The question of how the Escape Artist had managed to get sperm from Patterson caused his stomach muscles to clench, and a sharp pain shot through his groin. “What do you want to do, Alex?”

  “We have three dead teenagers; that’s our priority right now. We’ll go to Nobby’s and bring Morgan up to date on what we’ve found so far, get his insight, and look for an answer before another kid goes missing.”

  Crimshaw gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her words said a lot about her character, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted. She should be screaming, raging and going after the bastard. If Crimshaw found him first, he would choke the life out of him then shove a stick of dynamite up his ass and light it.

  Alex interrupted his thoughts. “What else did they find in my apartment?”

  “Candles and about a thousand dollars’ worth of roses. Damn place looked like a funeral parlor, with you stretched out lifeless on the bed. Scared the shit out of me.”

  “I want to keep the roses.”

  “What the fuck for?” Crimshaw growled. “I’m pretty damn sure you don’t need a reminder of tonight sitting around all the time.”

  “Morgan was right. I need to convince him my feelings toward him are changing. The roses were a birthday present, so if I keep them, he may think I like them. It’s the only way we’re ever going to catch him, Crimshaw. You know that in your heart, and so do I.”

  Crimshaw shook his head but kept his thoughts to himself. “So you want to stay on the kids’ case?”

  “That’s our priority right now.”

  “What about Patterson?” Crimshaw asked, pulling up in front of the house and parking. Even with the stop, they’d managed to beat the rest of the crew home.

  Alex pointed at a pink box on the swing. “I think I just got the rest of my birthday present.”

  Crimshaw stared at the package then turned to watch the forensic team going up and down the steps to Alex’s apartment. He was pretty sure they’d been there all night. “What is this guy, some kind of freaking ghost?”

  “That’s why we called him the Escape Artist. Even when he was close, he seemed to disappear right in front of our eyes.”

  Crimshaw opened his door. “I get the son of a bitch in my sights, and I’ll make him disappear permanently.”

  ~

  Alex sat quietly with the rest of the group as the forensic team photographed, fingerprinted and x-rayed the package. She didn’t expect them to find anything. He wasn’t going to kill her, at least not yet.

  “All clear. It’s safe to open now.”

  She reached for the package, stopping only when Blake’s hand closed around her wrist. “No, Alexandra. I’ll open it, or Crimshaw. You’ve had enough for one day.”

  His touch sent tiny spikes of electrical charges through her arm, and the tone of his voice told her he wasn’t going to accept no as an answer.

  “All right. You open it.”

  Blake tore off the ribbon and pink wrapping paper. “Anybody got a knife?”

  Crimshaw withdrew one from his pocket and passed it over.

  Slipping the knife under the tape on each end, Blake opened the top. “There’s another box inside, and a card.” He pulled them out. “And a DVD.” He started to rip open the second box.

  “Don’t.” Alex reached for the present, her gut tightening and her whole body trembling. “Nobby, put the DVD in please.”

  “Shouldn’t we get Forensics in here and fingerprint it first?” Crimshaw asked.

  Nobby reached for the DVD, crossed to the TV, and turned it on. “Waste of time. That son of a bitch isn’t going to leave any trace we can use.” He inserted the disk in the player.

  The group sat in shock as a picture of Patterson slowly appeared on the screen. He was tied to a chair, his head bowed, blood dripping down his shirt. The trembling Alex had felt earlier increased as the Escape Artist’s voice filled the room. “I let him live, love, because I knew you would want me to. He did have to be punished, though, and he’ll never speak ill of you again.”

  The screen went blank, and Alex ripped open the card as Blake came to stand beside her. A small slip of paper fell from the card, and Blake reached for it, read it quickly and passed it to Crimshaw. “Call an ambulance and send it to the third warehouse on Garner. You’ll want to call the chief and Commander Frost, too.”

  Crimshaw took out his cell and placed the calls. “They’re on their way. Chief said to let the local boys handle it.”

  Alex held out the second present. “You should take that to Forensics. I think we all know what’s in there.”

  Nobby frowned. “What?”

  Blake answered for her. “Patterson’s tongue.”

  “Shit.” Nobby sat down on the couch. “Anything else on the card?”

  “My other present. He said I could call him Samael.”

  Crimshaw reached for the card. “Bloody bastard considers himself an archangel, does he?”

  “I don’t understand,” Alex said. “What do you mean, ‘archangel’?”

  Tamara came to stand behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “In the Jewish religion, Samael was the angel of death. In Talmudic lore, he was the devil, the accuser, seducer, and destroyer, often regarded as both good and evil.”

  “So it’s all bullshit, and he gave me a fake name.”

  “Maybe not, Alexandra. Have you got your computer, Reefer?”

  “Set up in the dining room.”

  Blake crossed to the table, the group following behind him. “You’re from Gloucester, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He opened a search engine and typed in the name ‘Samael’ plus ‘England’. The screen immediately filled with hits. “He may have given you his real name.”

  “What I want to know,” Nobby piped in, “is why he switched from texts to sending a DVD?”

  Alex stood, reached for her gun, and checked to make sure it was loaded. “Because he knew my phone was tapped, and he’s here, somewhere close right now, watching us.”

  “How about the bloke across the street?” Nobby asked.

  “His eyes were the wrong colour, Nobby, and he didn’t have an accent. It couldn’t be him, could it?”

  �
�Colored contacts, and he’s been here over a year, just like you, Alex. He could have suppressed his accent,” Reefer said.

  Alex headed for the front door, Crimshaw, Reefer and Tamara on her heels. “Nobby, watch the kids.” She turned, her gaze meeting Blake’s across the room. “Because of your situation, we can’t give you a gun, so please stay with Nobby until we check it out.”

  “Be careful, he could have the place rigged.”

  “He isn’t going to kill me, Morgan. You said it yourself—he’s in love with me.” Alex opened the door. “Reefer and Tamara, take the back. Crimshaw and I will take the front.”

  “You bring those earbuds you like so much, Reefer?” Crimshaw asked.

  “Didn’t think we’d need them tonight.”

  The group approached the house slowly, a porch light coming on as soon as they got close. “Forget about the back,” Alex said with a sigh, her eyes homing in on the message scrawled across the door. “He’s gone.”

  Crimshaw pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get Forensics over here.”

  Alex shook her head. “You might as well wait until morning. They aren’t going to find anything.” She stared at the message, her hands clenching and unclenching, then read the message aloud. “Happy birthday, love. I enjoyed our face-to-face meeting.”

  “Tamara and I will take a look around inside. We’ll meet you at the house,” Reefer said.

  Crimshaw walked up beside her. “We’ll get him, Alex.”

  “I know we will. You still want a piece of birthday cake?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Hooking her arm through his, she led Crimshaw toward Nobby’s house. She knew the group was watching her, waiting for her to fall apart. She wasn’t going to do that. She had a name and a face, but more importantly, she had a plan. “You have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me before you get any cake.”

  “You ever heard me sing, Alex?”

  She chuckled. “You listened to me snore; the least I can do is listen to you sing.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “How’s your protégé this morning?”

  Val smiled at Rico across the breakfast table. “Still asleep. Don’t worry, darling. I know a sociopath when I see one.”