Fallen Angel: An absolutely addictive crime thriller with a nail-biting twist (Detectives Kane and Alton Book 13)

by D. K. Hood

  “Locked in my room.” Bradford rolled his eyes. “Alone.” He sighed. “I was in the shower but I managed by my phone light to dry off and get into bed. I slept until the lights came on again, but I just turned them off and went back to sleep. These conventions are exhausting. I was resting in my room before. I broke my toe and only came out of the moon boot last week.”

  “How well do you know Jedediah Longfellow and Kitty Pandora?” Kane raised one eyebrow.

  “They autographed books for me but we didn’t say much to each other.” Bradford shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I knew them.”

  Jenna checked her notes. “Would those books be their recent releases by any chance? Do you recall the titles?”

  “Sure, that would be Nailed It and Frizzled.” Bradford’s lips turned up at the edges. “I guess now as both are autographed, they’ll be worth more seeing both authors are dead. I’ll be sure to wrap them in plastic.”

  “What about Paul Tate?” Kane looked disinterested. “Know him?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Bradford’s gaze slid across to where Emily was sitting and then moved back to Kane. “What does he write?”

  Jenna ignored him. “Just one more thing. Do you own a laser pointer?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have it with me. Do you need to borrow one?” Bradford looked amused. “Most of the people on the panels have them. I’d speak to them if you need one.”

  “Okay, Mr. Bradford, we’ve held you up long enough.” She stood. “Thank you for coming by.” She nodded to Rio, who came over and ushered Bradford to the elevator.

  After waiting for Rio to return, she looked at Kane. “Get anything?”

  “Yeah, he has an underlying resentment. He steepled his fingers, which is something a person does if they believe they are superior and have the upper hand.” Kane rolled his shoulders. “He looked straight at Em when you mentioned Paul Tate.”

  “He doesn’t have an alibi for any of the TODs, same as Grayson.” Rio shrugged. “Both seem suspicious to me, but Bradford more so. He might have tipped his hand when he looked at Em. Do you think he might be Paul Tate? He’d be the right age.”

  Jenna chewed on her pen and, staring into space, gathered her thoughts. “All the male suspects are around thirty but I’m not discounting these murders could’ve been committed by a woman. None of them took great strength—the victims died where they lay. They’re spiteful kills and, trust me, a woman getting even wouldn’t hold back. The trouble with this theory is how would she have Diana Tate’s earrings in her possession from twenty years ago? Paul had no sisters or aunts and she’d be too old to be his child. I’ll talk to Parker Rain after lunch, but the chances of the killer being female is remote.” She sighed. “I’m ready to eat as soon as I’ve updated the files.”

  “I’ll help.” Rio sat down at the table.

  “As there’s nothing left to do here. When you’re done, I figure we grab Julie and head down to lunch together.” Kane pushed to his feet and pulled on a thick woolen cap with the Black Rock Falls Sheriff’s Office logo on the front. “But first, I’m going to walk Duke. When I have him settled, I’ll go find Julie. How about I meet you outside the Roasting Hog? We haven’t tried that place yet.”

  “Sure.” Jenna stared at him. “Don’t let Julie out of your sight.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kane touched his hat and headed out the door.

  Running a hand through her hair, Jenna caught Rio’s strained expression. She cleared her throat. “Don’t even think about it.” She gave him a sideways glance. “It’s taken me years to stop Kane and Rowley from calling me ma’am. He’s just doing it to annoy me.” She let out a long sigh. “It makes me feel like Whistler’s Mother.”

  Forty

  Cold still lingers in my hands and feet, but the scent of blood has regrettably gone from my nostrils and is replaced with the aroma of gastronomical delights as I line up to enter the Roasting Hog Restaurant for lunch. My heart still races, the effort of dismembering a person harder than I imagined. Even frozen flesh caught in the blade and the kickback when I cut through bone was nothing like sawing through a tree branch. I’m glad my plan was well executed. I chuckle to myself for making a play on words.

  The hole in the snow I’d dug made a perfect workplace and, once I’d removed the limbs, I’d covered everything in snow ready for retrieval later. I also used snow to wipe down the chainsaw and then took my time sawing up fallen logs to remove the grease before returning it to the shed. The old man I’d disabled earlier, still lay there, out cold but breathing and the small heater he kept inside his shed would keep him from freezing to death. I had no need to kill him and soon he’d regain consciousness believing he’d had a fall. The bruise on his head from where he hit the floor will convince him.

  I still have plans for Riggs. I must admit I gave him the best experience of them all. I had to because he did show interest in me toward the end. Pity the die was cast or I may have forgiven him, but it’s not my place to forgive, and when I decide on a path, I never take a step back. Not as a kid, not now. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when I held up one of his feet and then the other. Did he know he was living a scene from the novel he crowed about and went the extra mile to promote for the best deal? Did he understand why he must die? You see, the story had a major flaw. The author concentrated on the cop’s angle the entire story, and I couldn’t believe the killer’s enjoyment wasn’t even a consideration. To me, that makes a boring crime story, and it only came close to the truth when the cop had to face down the psychopath. Now that part excited me.

  I listen with interest to the announcements. They mention the times of the afternoon sessions and the closure of the emergency exit door for smokers. My fingers close around the passkey in my pocket. I don’t need the door open any longer. When everyone is asleep, I’ll be on the move again, setting up a wonderful surprise. I must finish the story, and then take time to indulge myself in a fantasy that haunts my dreams. The cravings are becoming overpowering, but I smile as I’m ushered to a seat. I join a group of people from my critique group. They understand me and, apart from Jed, not one of them made my list. This alone proves I can control my urges, as most like me would kill them all and this alone makes me special. My gaze scans the room and rests on a blonde head. My hand trembles as her long red nails comb through her white-blonde glossy hair. She will be my ultimate reward and I must concentrate hard on keeping control, but seeing her so close makes my heart race. Right now, nothing else matters but Julie.

  Forty-One

  It was like eating in the middle of a flock of geese. Jenna winced as a woman sitting at the next table screamed with laughter and almost spilled her glass of wine. It seemed the convention was two weeks of continuous celebration. She rolled her eyes at Kane. “They sure know how to party.”

  “The ball on the last day is on my ‘not to be missed’ list that’s for sure, and I have a ticket.” Julie grinned. “I hope you’re coming.”

  Jenna leaned back in her seat and sighed. “The ball is the last thing on my mind right now.”

  “I hope we find the killer before the convention ends.” Rio eyed her over the rim of a glass of soda. “You’ll have one hell of a time keeping people locked up here once their stay is over. Do you figure the mayor will meet the costs of all these people if you insist they stay? The forecast is for clear skies after the next blizzard. They won’t believe the roads are blocked.”

  Shaking her head, Jenna attacked her slice of Black Forest cake. Her appetite was ferocious of late. “If we can’t catch this killer in the next ten days, when he is locked up right under our noses, I’m quitting.” She glanced around the table. “I called Bobby Kalo before and he has nothing on Paul Tate after he left foster care. He is checking other states, but unless he has priors, we’ll never find him.”

  “He could have changed his name.” Kane added cream to his cherry pie. “Has Kalo looked into that angle?”

  Jenna swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, but
there are a ton of men by that name in the States.”

  “What if he didn’t change his name… as in legally.” Julie’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “We’re at an author’s conference. What if he’s using a pen name? Many of the authors here are using their pen names. Kitty Pandora’s real name is Doris Slaughter. She’s married to an IT company director by the name of Ed Slaughter.”

  Jenna stared long and hard at Kane and then moved her attention to Rio. “I have two of the most intelligent deputies in the state, and you didn’t think about checking out people’s pen names? Really? What’s happening here?”

  “I was concentrating on the crimes and trying to link them to the suspects.” Rio looked taken aback. “I’m doing my best. I’ve never seen such diversity in crime scenes before—what we’re dealing with here is one of a kind.”

  “They’re all one-of-a-kind murders in Black Rock Falls.” Kane continued to eat. “We’re constantly having to look outside the box to catch a killer.” He slid his attention to Jenna. “I’m aware some of the authors here are under pen names. That is why I made a point of asking the suspects if they knew Paul Tate. I’d expect some kind of reaction if it was their real name. I also asked Mr. Brightway to check for the name in his records. If anyone is using a credit card under that name, he’ll let us know.”

  Jenna raised both eyebrows. “And you decided not to inform me about this part of the investigation?”

  “It was a fail-safe, Jenna.” Kane pushed his plate away. “Paul Tate isn’t a suspect in the homicides here as far as we’re aware. The cops had no reason to believe he was involved in the deaths of his mom and the two men twenty years ago. They have him staying with a friend around the times of all the murders. From what I read from the files, he often spent the entire weekend at his friend Peter Burrows’s home, going there after school and not returning home until the following Monday. From the report, Mrs. Burrows believed Paul’s homelife with a single mother wasn’t very nice and welcomed him to her home.” He shrugged. “It’s all in the files, if you get time to read them.” He held up his hand as the waitress walked by and ordered a pot of coffee.

  “I’ve read the files, but I was searching for a clue to link him to one of our suspects.” Jenna pushed both hands through her hair. “I’ll leave you and Rio to handle the last two interviews. I’m going to hunt down Peter Burrows and his parents and see if he can shed any light on Paul Tate.”

  “Sure, but Burrows doesn’t know where Paul is. Kalo already called him to find out Paul Tate’s last known address.” Kane refilled his cup from the pot the waitress had placed on the table and added cream and sugar. “Kalo has Burrows’s details. Do you want me to call him?”

  Jenna pulled out her phone. “No, I’ll send him a message.”

  The reply came back in seconds and Jenna glanced at Kane. “I’ll call Mr. Burrows soon. He’ll be at work and he’s an accountant. With luck, he might have time to speak to me.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Kane sipped his coffee.

  “Now you two have stopped bickering.” Emily rolled her eyes at Jenna. “When this is all over, the killer is behind bars, and the blizzard is a bad memory, I hope you’ll come shopping for a ballgown with me and Julie.” She grinned. “Now dad has a chopper, he said if the weather was clear, he’d fly us to Helena for the day. He has business there next Friday… something about a medical examiners’ meeting or something. Come on, Jenna, live a little. You wear jeans all year round. It will be fun to get our hair styled and dress up for a change.”

  Unable to stop smiling at Emily’s infectious giggle, she nodded. “Okay, but so far we don’t have a clue who is murdering people. We could be still chasing him down at Easter.”

  After lunch, Jenna sent the others on their way and went back to her room. She needed a quiet place to speak to Peter Burrows. She made the call and after stating her business had the usual obligatory wait as the receptionist kept her on hold for fifteen minutes. When Burrows came on the line, he seemed to be pleased to speak to her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Burrows. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m contacting you after so many years about the murders out of Black Ridge.”

  “At the time, nobody listened to me.” Burrows’s concern came through the tone in his voice. “I was just a kid. I’m a little younger than Paul. I was nine at the time his mom died.”

  Jenna made notes. “Did he stay at your home often?”

  “Yeah, as often as his mom would allow him.” Burrows sighed. “At the time, I didn’t understand what was going on, but now I look back on it, all the signs were there.”

  Intrigued, Jenna grabbed the recording device out of her kit and put her phone on speaker. “Signs of what exactly?”

  “Abuse. Paul was a choirboy, he had the voice of an angel. He loved to sing and then suddenly he didn’t. He went from being excited about choir practice to running and hiding in the woods to avoid going.” Burrows cleared his throat. “I was at his house one time and his mother had a friend around. She’d been drinking. She sent me home and the man dragged Paul to his room. I figured at the time Paul was getting a whooping for misbehaving. He never said a word to me about anything, but looking back I’m convinced his mother allowed men to abuse him, including the local clergy.”

  Appalled, Jenna sucked in a breath, the question hovering on her lips. “Do you think he was capable of killing his mom?”

  “I really can’t say.” Burrows cleared his throat. “It’s something that has played on my mind for years. I never knew what happened to Paul after the cops took him away. He never contacted me.”

  “Okay.” Jenna chewed on her bottom lip. “How well do you recall the night his mom died?”

  “Like it was yesterday.” Burrows lowered his voice. “I recall he was staying with us. He was sleeping in my room when the cops found the priest and the other guy in the woods as well. This is where I get confused. He was just a kid, so at first it never entered my mind he might have killed them. At the time, I was never sure if I was dreaming or had made a mistake about things but the more I think on it, the more I’m sure he was somehow involved.”

  Heart thundering with excitement, Jenna leaned closer to listen. “How so?”

  “Well, the cops spoke to his mom because they’d seen her in a bar with the first guy. He’s the one I saw taking Paul upstairs to his room. The next time Paul slept over, he told me he’d told the cops he’d seen a scruffy guy hanging around the woods, a biker maybe. He was super excited, like he was playing a game or something—like he’d tricked them.” Burrows paused a beat. “This is where things get muddled in my head. You see, I’m not sure if I was dreaming, but I remember waking on three occasions and seeing his bed empty. At the time, I figured Paul was using the bathroom, but at one time, he went to bed in green PJs and the next morning woke up in yellow ones. That was the night his mom died, and when I think back, the reason I remember the nights he wasn’t there is because the cops came to our house the next day to find out if Paul was staying with us.”

  Mind spinning, Jenna checked to make sure the recorder was still working. “So, what do you think happened?”

  “I figure Paul could have murdered them all.” Burrows’s voice sounded strained. “There’s something else. My mom had one of those knives with the sheath that sharpens them when you push it in and out… know the kind? Well, she yelled at me for touching it because it went missing and showed up in the wrong drawer. I think he used the knife to kill them all.” He blew out a long breath. “Think about it… if those guys were pedophiles and Paul wanted to lure them into the woods, trust me, he was smart enough to do it. He had this way about him that made everyone believe he was an angel, but in truth he manipulated people. I can see it as clear as day the way he used to talk to my folks to allow him to stay all weekend.”

  Jenna rubbed her temples. “The autopsy report says his mom was murdered in her bed. I guess a kid of that age was more than capable of slitting her throat. But two grown men? How is this poss
ible?”

  “I heard they were mutilated.” Burrows’ voice seemed to faulter. “Maybe you should read the autopsy reports and seriously consider what could have been happening to a ten-year-old in the woods. I figure he went home and cleaned up after he killed them, showered, changed. He probably tossed his bloody clothes into a dumpster along the way and then crept back into my house.”

  Jenna nodded to herself. “And you’ve never heard from him or seen him since?”

  “Nope.” Burrows’s chair creaked. “Not a word. He could be dead for all I know.”

  “Okay.” Jenna stared at the red blinking light on the recorder. “That’s very interesting. I’ll send you photos of a few men. Could you see if you recognize any of them as Paul?” She sent the images of her male suspects.

  “It’s been a long time.” Burrows sighed. “Sorry, none of them look like Paul.”

  Jenna chewed on her bottom lip thinking. “Just one more thing. Did you ever see Paul with any of his mother’s jewelry?”

  “Funny you should say that.” Burrows brightened. “The morning the cops came around to tell him she’d died. He didn’t cry or anything. He just stared into space. When they informed him he couldn’t go back to the house, they asked him if he wanted anything of his mother’s. He shook his head, but when they left, he said he had a remembrance of her and showed me a pair of earrings.”

  “Hang on.” Jenna sent him the image of the earrings they’d found at two crime scenes. “Did they look like this?”

  “They sure did.” Burrows sounded intrigued. “That’s them. Where did they show up?”

  Staring at her phone, Jenna shook her head. “I wish I could tell you. Right now, they’re evidence in an ongoing investigation. I really appreciate your help. Would you sign a statement, if I write this up?”

  “Sure, but it’s only recollections of a kid. I’m not sure it will hold up in court.” Burrows sounded confused.