Download Murder

by Patrick Logan

For a moment, Officer Herd looked like he might give in to her pleas, but then Officer Lincoln stepped forward.

  “Sergeant Adams, I’m sorry, but—”

  A fourth person entered the small office just then, and all eyes turned to him.

  “You’re sorry? For what? Because you interrupted a federal agent in the middle of an investigation? Why? Because some social justice warriors think that she made some sexist remarks?” Agent Stitts said angrily. He strode forward, and Chase thought she saw Herd flinch. “Chase was trying to protect people, women in particular. This isn’t some power play, or some bullshit political ploy. This is about saving lives. Why don’t you take that up with Deputy Inspector Albright? Hmmm?”

  Herd’s upper lip curled, while Lincoln looked generally confused.

  As did Chase.

  Federal Agent? What the hell is he talking about? Is he saying that I’m an agent, or is he speaking about himself?

  “I’ll talk to Inspector Albright,” Herd said at last.

  “Yeah, you do that. In the meantime, let us stop a fucking killer, alright?”

  With that, Agent Stitts stepped fully into the room, and the other two officers took their cue to exit.

  Chase rose and shut the door behind them, briefly considering locking it in case the men changed their mind.

  She left it unlocked.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked.

  Stitts smirked.

  “What? I fudged the truth a little. You know how it is. As soon as I saw the images online of the crime scene, of you running through the snow, I figured this was coming. And then with the Meitzer article…”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed.

  “The what?”

  Agent Stitts hesitated before answering.

  “You don’t know? Shit; it’s out, Chase. The cat is out of the proverbial bag.”

  Chase wasn’t sure if it was the cold weather, the shock of almost being suspended, but either way, she wasn’t grasping what Stitts was saying.

  “Jesus, is this some sort of FBI code that I’m just not getting? I mean—”

  “Ivan Meitzer from the Times just posted an online article about the murders and the books… the print version will be in tomorrow’s paper. And now Red Smile is just flying off the virtual shelves; people just can’t get enough. And this is only the beginning.”

  Chase’s heart palpitated in her chest.

  “How? What?” she paused for a second, her eyes narrowing. “Did you say Ivan Meitzer published the article?”

  Agent Stitts nodded.

  “You know him?”

  Chase swore under her breath.

  “I don’t, but I know someone who does.”

  CHAPTER 46

  “I was just trying to help! You said to do what I can, and that’s what I did. Ivan was my contact and he—”

  “Every time you try to help, something gets fucked up!” Chase shot back. “Every time!”

  Drake shook his head, trying to stem the fury that brewed inside him.

  “I thought he could—”

  “Keep your voice down,” Chase instructed.

  “—help, provide some information, use his contacts in the publishing industry to find out who the real author of Red Smile is.”

  Chase shook her head, then looked over at Agent Stitts, who appeared confused.

  Confused, and none too happy about the situation. Although the agent had yet to explicitly state his dislike for Drake, it was all over his face.

  “Yeah, you heard right. He thought that Ivan Meitzer, the same one who has it out for him, would help solve the investigation. That he wouldn’t print what he told him.”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Chase. Speak to me, not to—”

  Chase’s eyes whipped around.

  “Speak to you? Speak to you? That’s the problem, Drake. You don’t fucking listen. Don’t you get it? I brought you onboard here, and it’s my ass on the line. Not yours. You’ve got other… shady… business going on, don’t you? I mean, I make money, sure, but you know where I get it from. But how about you? Where are you getting the envelopes of cash that you keep dropping off to your dead partner’s wife?”

  Drake was floored.

  How does she know about that? Is she following me? Is that it?

  “There’s nothing shady about Triple D, Chase,” he said, trying to skirt the subject. “And I—”

  “Uhh, I’d love to sit here and listen to mommy and daddy fight all day,” Agent Stitts interrupted, “But we just don’t have the time. The book is selling now, but tomorrow when the Times article is out in paper form, it’s going to be a real shit-show. We need to get on this now, before we’re completely drowned in copycats and dead-end tips. And before Herd and Lincoln return.”

  Drake was still fuming, but Agent Stitts level-headed words struck a chord with him.

  The man was right; they were going to be overwhelmed starting tomorrow morning. Time was one thing that they just didn’t have.

  And that said nothing of the killer’s next victim.

  How long before he kills again? A day? Two at best?

  Drake took a deep breath, his eyes darting over to Chase. She was pissed, too, but he could also see that she was over her head, and maybe a little scared, too.

  She wasn’t ready for Sergeant, and perhaps never would be. She was a field agent, and that was where she belonged.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to bury the hatchet. “I was trying to help, but I fucked things up. I get that. Nothing I can do about it now will change the facts. Let’s just move on, alright?”

  Chase bit her lip, and looked as if she wanted to say more, to further berate him, but she held back. Eventually, cooler heads prevailed, and she turned to Stitts.

  “No luck pulling the books from online retailers, I guess.”

  Stitts shook his head.

  “Not happening. At least not without a court order,” he looked over at Drake. “With the news breaking now, it might actually be easier to get one, but it will still take a few days.”

  Chase frowned.

  “Days we don’t have. The killer’s cooling off period is slowing. Drake, you still have the e-reader? What are the time stamps between the books?”

  Drake felt his face flush, remembering how in a fit of rage he had thrown it across the room.

  When he had regained control, he had tried to put it back together, but it was impossible.

  The screen was completely destroyed.

  “I don’t have it,” he said softly.

  “You what?”

  Drake shrugged.

  “I don’t—”

  The door to the conference room suddenly burst open, and a red-faced Detective Yasiv burst through.

  “Chase? Chase?” he asked, his eyes darting.

  “You ever hear of knocking?”

  Yasiv’s face reddened until it was almost purple.

  “Sorry, it’s just—there’s someone here to see you.”

  “Who? This better be—”

  Yasiv swallowed hard.

  “It’s a woman… and she says she’s been raped by your killer—by the author of Red Smile.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Chase strode down the hall with Drake and Agent Stitts at her side, and Detective Yasiv taking up the rear.

  She moved briskly, ignoring the stares from everyone in the precinct, knowing that the news of IA coming to her office must have already been going around.

  Raped by the killer?

  It must have been some sort of hoax given that the news of the book had just broken, but given the severity of the accusation, and considering the public outcry at her choice of words at the media address the other day, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Interrogation Room 1, you said?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Yasiv hurried to keep up.

  “Yes—Room 1. She came in less than an hour ago, said she would only speak to you.”

  Chase nodded, and broke into a walk s
o fast that it was nearly a jog. Instead of taking the elevator, she opted for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, she quickly found herself outside the door marked INTERROGATION ROOM 1, and was reminded of being here with Tim Jenkins, Drake furious, insisting that this wasn’t their guy, that he wasn’t the Butterfly Killer.

  The last time that she had seen Tim Jenkins alive.

  Chase shook her head, clearing her thoughts, then turned to her entourage.

  “She said she only wants to talk to me, so I’ll go in alone. You guys head into the adjacent room; you can watch and listen on the monitor.” Then to Yasiv, she said, “You notify medical? If she’s been raped, we should swab her and run the kit as soon as possible. Did she say how long ago the attack happened?”

  Yasiv shook his head.

  “She said she would only talk to you. Wouldn’t even tell us her name. And medical is on their way.”

  Chase nodded.

  “Good. And get Dunbar up here, tell him to watch on the monitor as well. Get him to cross reference anything she says about the low-income area that the IP address pinged, and anything about L. Wiley or R.S. Germaine or the books. Got it?”

  The man confirmed that he would.

  “Drake, get ready to move. If she reveals anything that you think you can act on, I want you to get out there. Don’t hesitate, just go. And Take Stitts with you.”

  Drake nodded.

  It felt strange and maybe even wrong to give Drake the reigns over Stitts, especially given that this whole mess was partially Drake’s fault, but Stitts had told her to use her gut.

  And her gut was telling her that she still needed Drake, which was why she hadn’t told him to fuck off already after his colossal mistake.

  Another deep breath, a curt nod, and then she opened the door to the interrogation room.

  “My name is Sergeant Chase Adams. Why don’t we start with yours?”

  CHAPTER 48

  Drake tapped his foot anxiously as he stared through the two-way mirror, waiting for Chase to get through the legal jargon before questioning the woman.

  She was in her mid-twenties, he guessed, with a shock of black hair that was shaved on the sides. Her pale face was punctuated by piercings in her nose, eyebrows, and lips.

  Drake doubted if they ended there.

  “So what happened, Hanna? Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Chase said. Her voice was strange coming through the speakers above Drake’s head, and there was a slight delay between her lips moving on the other side of the two-way glass and the sound, giving the entire scene a bizarre, ethereal quality.

  The woman crossed her arms over her narrow chest.

  “I was raped,” she said, lips pressing together. “The bastard who wrote those books raped me.”

  Drake could see Chase struggling to keep her emotions in check, and knew that she was frustrated.

  “Hanna, from the beginning. Tell me where you met this man.”

  Hanna’s scowl deepened.

  “Why? So you can tell me that I deserved it? That the fact that my clit is pierced means that I deserved to be raped, hmm?”

  Drake was caught off guard by the comment, and evidently so was Chase. He had heard this line of speech before, of course, but usually it was in reference to a shirt being too low cut, or a skirt too short.

  A clit piercing was a new one for him.

  Chase leaned forward.

  “I’m here to help, Hanna. And don’t forget, you asked for me. Did you come here just to berate me over my comments to the press? Is that it? It’s disgusting that you would—”

  The woman lowered her eyes and she shook her head.

  “No,” she said softly, “I was raped. I was raped by him.”

  She’s lying, Drake thought suddenly. Clit piercing or not, the woman hadn’t been raped.

  The door to the observation room opened, and Dunbar burst through, open laptop in hand. He offered a curt hello to Stitts and Drake, then set his computer down on the table.

  “Did I miss anything?”

  “Not yet,” Drake said, still staring at Hanna.

  She was nervous, a dead give away that she was lying.

  “Tell me, then. Tell me what happened.”

  After a deep, shuddering breath, one that to Drake looked orchestrated, rehearsed even, Hanna started to weave a tale that started with a writer’s group, then extended to her asking for help after class. She went on to describe the rape scene in great detail. So much detail, in fact, that at one point Drake found himself cringing.

  He looked over to Stitts, who was staring intently at Hanna as he had been moments ago.

  Drake wondered if the man was thinking the same thing he was; mainly, that those who undergo a traumatic event, such as rape or violent assault, usually couldn’t recall this level of detail. During these horrible acts, the victims are completely overtaken by one of the three main evolutionary precepts: Fight, Flight, or Freeze. Memory, on the other hand, is a distant faculty, and all of the human machinery is rerouted for one of those three acts.

  Too much detail, she’s remembering too much.

  Drake looked over at Dunbar next, who appeared oblivious to the graphic account as he punched at his keyboard.

  “Writer’s group in New York…,” he mumbled, presumably to himself. “There are dozens of these things. Need more information.”

  Drake reached into his pocket, intent on fondling the finger bone.

  Only it wasn’t there.

  Panic overtook him, and he searched his other jean pocket.

  When his hands still came up empty, he patted his chest, the inside of his jacket.

  Still nothing.

  “Drake? You okay?” Agent Stitts asked, sounding far away.

  Where the hell is it? Where is it?

  Drake tried to think back to the last time he had seen it.

  Was it yesterday? Did I have it when I visited Ken and asked for the money? At Patty’s? Did I bring it out when Ivan had arrived? After he left?

  “Then where the fuck is it?” he asked out loud.

  A hand came down gently on his shoulder, and he glanced up.

  “You alright?” Agent Stitts asked, concern on his face.

  Drake swallowed and shook the man’s hand away.

  “I just—”

  But he was interrupted by Chase’s voice filtering through the intercom.

  “Medical will be here in a few minutes to take swabs, Hanna. But before they come, can I just ask you one more thing?”

  A dry swallow.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know the name of this man who did this to you? Did you get his name?”

  Hanna’s eyes shot up, and Drake saw that they were red from crying.

  “Colin… his name was Colin Elliot. And I’m just happy that he didn’t kill me like those other poor girls.”

  CHAPTER 49

  There were three hard knocks on the door, and then it opened. A portly nurse in a white gown looked in with a severe expression on her face.

  “Medical,” she said simply, and Chase rose to her feet.

  “Thank you, Hanna,” she said to the woman across the table from her. “And we’re going to catch this guy. I promise.”

  Hanna nodded, but said nothing. Her demeanor had completely changed from when Chase had first arrived in the interrogation room.

  She remembered what Stitts had said, that in his profile he had stated that the killer was a man who had been emasculated.

  And yet none of the other victims had been sexually assaulted.

  Chase pushed these feelings aside for the time being. The woman had made a claim, a very vivid and graphic account of a rape, and it wasn’t her job to judge her in this moment.

  She would make sure that this man… that Colin Elliot, would be brought in for questioning. And if he did rape her, then…

  Chase left the room, and headed to the adjacent one.

  “Did you get that?” she asked, after entering. She clicked a button a
nd the glass went dark, and the intercom shut off, offering Hanna privacy as she was examined and swabbed.

  “Dunbar? Any hit on the name?”

  Officer Dunbar didn’t look up, he just continued to type furiously.

  “Not yet, working on it.”

  She turned to Drake next.

  “Something’s not right here,” she said absently. Drake was looking particularly pale, almost as if he were going to be ill. “You alright?”

  “Fine,” he grumbled, even though it was clear that he was anything but fine.

  Chase instinctively sniffed the air, trying to pick up the scent of alcohol, even though this was one of the first things she had done when Drake had come down to the precinct.

  She smelled nothing, and then considered that this was perhaps that reason why he was acting so strangely, and looked sick.

  After her brief addiction to heroin, she knew how bad things could get before they got better.

  She swallowed, and tried to focus on the task at hand, on Hanna, on her story, on the killer that they so desperately sought.

  “What’s not right?” Agent Stitts asked, bringing her out of her head.

  Chase turned to the now black two-way mirror.

  “The rape… the other girls, all four of them… none of them had signs of sexual assault, did they?”

  Detective Yasiv shook his head.

  “CSU and the ME’s office tested them thoroughly. Melissa had had sex recently, as recent as a day or two before she went missing, but her mother confirmed that she was seeing someone. An ex-boyfriend, and he was cleared. Incarcerated when both she and Tanya went missing.”

  “So why now, then? If this Colin Elliot is our killer, why did he just start raping now?”

  “And why did he let her go?” Drake added.

  Chase agreed.

  “It doesn’t make sense. Drake, in the books, was there any mention of rape?”

  Drake shook his head.

  “No. None. Only about the killing. And us discovering the bodies, of course.”

  “Then why now?” Chase asked again.

  “Maybe it’s not—” Drake began, but Dunbar cut him off.

  “Got it! Colin Elliot, Elgin Street, Apartment four.”

  Detective Yasiv grabbed for his coat.