Murder Stalks

by Sara York

  He hated dead bodies. He hated having to look at them, hated the smell that came from them, but the pulse of his life was catching criminals.

  His stomach clenched as he walked into the tiny apartment, reminding him that a life could be taken anywhere and from anybody. He scanned the place. Two picture frames sat on the bar. One held a happy family at a theme park, the other a group of girls at the beach holding drinks. A shabby orange sofa sat next to an old milk crate with a piece of painted plywood used for a tabletop. Above the sofa a neon sign hung, sporting a green and yellow palm tree. ‘Angela’s Beach’ was scrawled across the bottom in blue.

  “Do we have a positive ID on the victim?” Tony asked.

  “Not yet. The manager called it in.” Rex took out his Blackberry and read from the screen. “Said he was doing a visual inspection of the place. Cracked the door open and smelled the stench. Said he saw her hand sticking out from behind the bedroom door. He ran back to his office and called it in. That’s all he told us. He didn’t see her face. We’re still looking for a picture ID.”

  Jeans, t-shirt, panties and a black lace bra were dumped on the floor of the living room. Tony looked around, searching for any other clothing. He stared at the top of a chipped, metal desk where Rex carefully pulled open the drawers, searching their contents. The place was clean. There wasn’t even a light dusting of particles that he knew usually stayed settled on the top of his dresser at home. Dusting wasn’t his forte, and after Marissa left, the thin dirt layer had grown thick, but this apartment was spotless.

  A glass containing brown liquid sat on the kitchen countertop. That was the only indicator that someone had actually lived here, that and the clothes on the floor. Tony made a note to collect the liquid from the glass and bag the clothes after Janice Owens showed up to photograph the room. The lack of dust on the flat surfaces disturbed him. Maybe Angela was a neat freak and dusted every day.

  He glanced into the bedroom. The killer had positioned the poor girl’s body. Tony rolled his shoulders, easing the knots forming in his muscles. A chill settled over him. Just knowing a dead girl lay in the other room, cut down before the prime of her life, twisted his gut. An image of Ashley flashed into his mind. It hadn’t been the same, not murder at all, but he was her daddy and now she was gone. He steeled himself against the barrage of memories, refusing to let the past stop him from doing his job.

  He paused next to the crime scene kit to pull green booties over his shoes before heading into the bedroom. A sliver of apprehension held him back. “It’s not her,” he whispered. The memory of Ashley’s tiny body, broken and ripped apart, shot to the front of his mind. His blond haired sprite of a daughter was gone, and this girl, this victim, hadn’t been killed by a ravaging mountain lion. Cold hard murder, that’s why he was here.

  A dim bulb hung in the center of the room, casting a dismal glow. Tony pulled a small flashlight from his hip, sending a narrow beam of light on the walls. He would ask Rex to set up a couple of spot lamps after the initial walkthrough.

  Tony swiveled his head, keeping his eyes off the floor where the victim lay. He scanned for anything out of place, something off kilter, or otherwise incongruent with how a nineteen-year old college student kept house. No expensive jewelry decorated the top of the dresser. However, he did spy a thin gold chain with a jewel-filled pendant hanging from a hook next to the mirror. Diamonds? Without a jeweler’s help, he could only guess at their value.

  A set of keys served as a paperweight for a pair of twenties. From his years an investigator, he knew thieves usually took all the cash they could get their hands on.

  Finally, after he’d finished looking everywhere else and couldn’t delay the inevitable, his eyes dipped to the floor.

  She was a young Caucasian, presumably Angela from the neon sign. Her dark spiky hair reminded him of a hedgehog stuffed animal, like the one his daughter used to sleep with. He stared at the victim, wishing he could bring her back, change what had happened. But no one could save her now. Damn it, no person, good or bad, deserved to die the way this woman had.

  ****

  Tony wanted to get the murder scene processed. “Where’s Janice?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  He turned to find her standing in the doorway with her camera slung around her neck. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, giving her the image of a young girl, but the sharp look in her eyes clearly showed she wasn’t a child. Janice’s features were already masked, letting the guys know that this murder, like everything else, didn’t affect her.

  “Do your thing so the ME can join us.”

  “Consider it done.” Janice removed the lens cap and began snapping pictures.

  Tony watched, unable to leave the room. He didn’t want to think about death, but with it right in front of his nose, he couldn’t help but dwell on the subject. “Janice, you about done?”

  “Almost, a few more shots then you can ask Sekorski in. He’s out in the parking lot.”

  “Good, at least we don’t have to wait for him.”

  The crinkle of booties on Janice’s feet annoyed him. He hated the things but knew that any evidence they took out of here on the bottom of their shoes would be lost forever once they left the scene.

  “I’m done in here.”

  “Shoot the other room, and I want some outside shots too.”

  “Like always.” Janice nodded and strutted out of the room.

  Tony pulled his phone from his pocket and thought about calling Marissa. He missed her. Instead he punched in Sekorski’s number. “It’s all yours, doc.”

  “I’ll be there in a few. Do I need anything extra?”

  “Tell Rex to pull in a few spot lamps. It’s too dark in here.”

  Tony moved aside when the medical examiner came in. Sekorski didn’t waste any time with formalities. With gloves in place, the ME started his examination. Tony gritted his teeth as Sekorski placed a clear plastic probe in the victim’s mouth.

  Tony watched the procedure, hoping the ME would pull something from her mouth, yet cringing at the thought of him fishing out the perpetrator’s ear lobe or a finger. Few women were strong enough to bite a full digit off their attacker, but one could hope for undeniable DNA evidence...and that she had managed to inflict pain on the bastard who’d done this.

  Sekorski pushed the probe around the victim’s mouth one more time before pulling it out. Her mouth was empty. Tony sighed, letting go of the breath he unconsciously held.

  “Sekorski, you think her nose damage came recently?” Tony asked.

  “Are you asking because you think this was domestic abuse?”

  “It would make our job easier. Find the boyfriend, find the killer.”

  Rex groaned as he entered the room. “Damn it, I hate it when their eyes do that.”

  Sekorski slid a glance at Rex. “Detective Hague, death isn’t pretty. Her eyes are just bugged out a little and rolled up in her head. So get over it. She was probably strangled. See the ligature marks? Once I get her to my office I’ll know if that was the cause of death.”

  Tony glanced down to her arms and cringed. The hands were gone. He bent closer. “The cut looks clean, no knife marks above the amputation. Sekorski, when do you think he cut off the hands?”

  The ME turned the bright light, shining it on the victim’s arms. He peered through a magnifying glass, examining the stubs. “The edge is clean, no mistakes there. She couldn’t have been alive. She would have jerked at the pain. Unless he drugged her heavily. There is some blood, but no spray anywhere. She was dead when he dismembered her.”

  “Shit,” Tony cursed. Dismembering a body wasn’t unheard of in a murder case, but it spoke volumes about the type of killer they were up against.

  “Look at those bruises.” Rex pointed to the victim’s upper body.

  “Which ones? The ones on her ribs or those around her neck? Her legs are fairly beat up too.” Tony swiped a hand down his face, pulling harshly at his skin.


  “He burned her.” Rex’s voice was tight.

  “You think that’s what happened to her belly?” Tony asked.

  Sekorski pointed to the marks. “It’s recent damage. Doesn’t look like a cigarette, maybe a heated piece of metal.”

  Tony wanted to kick something, but didn’t. Violence for violence’s sake had made him want to be a cop, but every time he saw the result of violence, it ripped a piece of his heart out. Before things went south in his marriage, it was a little easier to work a murder scene, but since Marissa had walked out, his life had been turned to hell. His wife blamed him, and she was right. He had been wrong. Add that to the guilt over losing Ashley, and he was fucked. He should have been there for his daughter that weekend. Instead, he had spent the time at work. Hell, he should have been there for Marissa too, but something urgent was always happening.

  This killer had damaged the victim and made her into a thing, but Tony knew someone had loved this woman and thought of her as precious.

  He covered his mouth with his left hand, stifling the curses that came to mind, while obscuring a bit of the smell that emanated from the body on the floor. The gesture was hopeless. Once the scent of death settled in his nostrils, he knew only time would take it away, usually a long time.

  ****

  The thick brown drapes blocked the bright sunlight, but not the heat. Temperatures hovered in the mid-nineties, and there was no hope of relief in sight. Sweat beaded on his forehead and pooled under his arms.

  Doctor Sekorski flipped off one of the high-powered bulbs. “We’re not gonna get much. She’s clean.”

  “There has to be something. Unless David Copperfield took up murder for his next act, there has to be a fiber or hair shaft somewhere in this apartment. Hell, in this heat, he would have dripped sweat on the victim.” Tony shook his head, not wanting to believe that Sekorski could be right. “How could this guy have done this so cleanly?”

  “Once I get her back to the lab I’ll have a better idea on the trace evidence. But honestly, it doesn’t look good. Take a look at the rug.”

  “What about it? It’s tan, cheap, probably the same stuff from when Marissa and I lived in this complex.”

  “Those marks, see them? Look more closely. Someone vacuumed recently. Then look here.” Sekorski focused the other light on the victim’s legs. “Those bruises, what do they look like to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sekorski pointed to a long bruise on the vic’s upper right thigh. “That looks like a vacuum wand to me. I’ll match it up once we get back to the lab.”

  “I’ll go search for a vacuum.” Rex volunteered and left the bedroom.

  Tony clenched his fists and bit his tongue. He wouldn’t blow his anger on his team. It might spark a fire under his colleagues, but experience taught him that kind of fire burned up quickly in police officers. He wanted his team committed to finding this killer, not committed to looking for a way to escape his wrath. Finally he said, “Find something to work with. Do we have a name yet?”

  Chapter 3

  Rex came back into the bedroom, a frown furrowing his brow. “Why don’t these dudes do their killing in December, when it’s cold? By the way, the vic is Angela Longfellow, twenty-one. She’s got a different address on her driver’s license. Found her purse in the closet, but no vacuum.”

  “Search for mail, something with her name and this address. I want to know how long she lived here. I want to know if she was enrolled in classes. Was this her first or last semester. And I want to know if she was planning on moving soon.”

  Tony turned his attention to the double bed. The covers were gone, only the white mattress pad was left behind. He stepped closer, shining his high-powered flashlight onto the surface. In the middle of the bed lay a long strand of blond hair, almost indistinguishable on the white cloth. Tony stared at the victim’s jet-black hair cropped close to her head. “Rex?”

  “Yeah, Tony.”

  “Someone collecting evidence yet?”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Good, check this room over. I’m taking a walk.”

  The heat hit Tony first then the humidity settled in on him. He walked around the building, careful to stay on the sidewalk and not disturb any evidence. He could have stayed in the vic’s apartment, but he needed air. It was something a rookie would do, not a seasoned detective.

  Hell, he needed a break. An image of he and Marissa squeezed in the tiny box shower, like the one in the vic’s place, flashed in his mind. It had been a magical time together, before things got difficult and life happened. A year in the apartment had been more than enough. They’d moved to a bigger place, something with more shower room. Somehow, in that move, they lost something.

  A chill spread through Tony’s chest and down the back of his neck. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He paused, trying not to be obvious as he bent to tie his shoe. His excuse to search the area was useless.

  Nothing. That’s what he saw. There were no cars with people ducking their head or flashes from light reflecting off a camera lens. His muscles were coiled, ready to spring, but there was nothing to go against. Tightness clawed at his chest, bringing him to the realization that he was being overly aware of his surroundings.

  Reaching around, he slapped the back of his neck. A bloody mosquito stuck to his palm. The tingle was from a small, bothersome bug. Disgusted with his overactive imagination, he slapped his hands together, wiping the insect and its blood away. Moving quickly, he made his way back to the victim’s apartment. No one was spying on him, only his mind working overtime.

  The activity in the victim’s apartment had accelerated to one step below Hobby International. Janice snapped more pictures, and Rex searched for evidence to collect so he could fill his plastic pouches. The victim was still uncovered on the floor, the blue and purple bruises marring her flesh were highlighted by Janice’s flash as she snapped picture after picture.

  Tony pulled out his high-powered flashlight, focusing it on the center of the bed. “Rex, you already collect the blond hair on the bed?”

  “Snap, can’t believe I missed that.” Rex pulled his tweezers from the pack and secured the thin strand in an evidence bag.

  Tony squinted, looking closely at the bed. He moved the light across the surface, examining every inch again. “Funny, one blond strand and no black.

  “Excuse me, Detective Santos?” A fresh-faced young officer, dressed in a crisp blue uniform stood just inside the apartment. His eyes darted to the dead body on the floor. He took two steps back before blanching.

  “I’m Detective Santos.”

  “There’s a g-guy from a TV station in Houston. He wants t-to talk to you,” the newcomer stuttered, beads of sweat poured off his pale face.

  Tony’s first instinct was to yell at the kid, but he didn’t. He kept his voice even. “Did this reporter ask for me by name?”

  “Well, n-no sir.” A deep red blush settled over the officer’s washed-out complexion making him look years younger and much sicker than he probably was.

  Rookies. Everybody was one in the beginning, but why today? Trying his best not to scare the rookie, Tony calmly said, “Ask him to stay behind the yellow tape. You have blocked the area off with tape?”

  “Yes sir. Gerrig, I mean Miss Gerrig—Officer Gerrig—checked it for me. She told me to tell you about the reporter.”

  “Really? Well, would you please tell the reporter to stay behind the yellow tape? As soon as we set a time for the news conference he’ll be the first to know. By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Officer Farris, Dickey Farris. This is my first day out of the academy.”

  Tony covered his smile. He waved his hand as a dismissal. In the next twenty years that kid would see plenty of murders, humanity at its lowest, but hopefully he would be able to compartmentalize his feelings and keep them from exploding back onto the world.

  Tony rolled his shoulders, easing the irritation building under his exterior. Sally
knew better than to send the rookie in here to ask about the reporter. Something would have to be said, and that meant seeking her out. Tony didn’t look forward to the task because it would interrupt his efforts to stay away from the woman.

  Rex pulled open another drawer, searching its contents before shoving it closed. “The press is going to be crawling all over this. With all the tourists being in town for the Fourth, this will be prime news.”

  “Hopefully most of them have left. And nothing about the body gets to the press.” Tony’s voice was cold as steel. There would be no leaks to the press on his watch. Letting the general population know that female coeds were getting their hands hacked off and their bodies burned didn’t help the police solve the crime. This woman’s death hadn’t been pretty, and the press didn’t need the sick details.

  Tony’s phone chirped. He looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. He stifled a groan and could only guess why the Chief of Police was calling him so early in the investigation. Dirty work should be left to the detectives, not the politicians.

  Tony was almost glad ‘the big blowup’ with Marissa had already occurred. There wasn’t time for a regular life while working a murder case like this one. He would spend his time at headquarters following up on leads and racking his brain trying to figure out the evidence. Assuming the killer had left anything other than the murder victim behind.

  “Sir, we have nothing so far,” Tony said before the chief could question him.

  “I know that. Damn it, you guys aren’t psychics. The press is all over this. Must have gotten wind because of the holiday. I don’t want anyone talking to them. Got it? No talking.” Chief Randall’s voice boomed over the phone.

  Tony fisted his free hand, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. “No problem, no one will talk to the press about any part of this case.”