by Sara York
The sound of Rex’s voice carried into the closet. Tony found a stool and leaned against it, making as little noise as possible.
“I received the DNA analysis from Sekorski on the hair strand found on Tony yesterday. It was mine. I guess I cross-contaminated the scene when I arrived. So now we have one less piece of key evidence to go on.” Rex’s words didn’t surprise Tony. He doubted the suspect would leave much behind.
“Excuse me,” Janice interrupted. “Did Sekorski give any indication whether or not the hair had blood on it? I thought...well, I mean it looked like it was in the blood smears.”
“I thought the same thing, but Sekorski said it must have fallen on Tony when I first arrived.”
Tony’s memory was sketchy from yesterday, but he could have sworn the hair had been encased in dried blood. If the blood was dried then Rex had to have been there when the murder took place. Could Rex have done this? How could Rex, the man who stood up with him at his wedding, the godfather they had chosen for Ashley, the man he trusted as his partner, be their killer? Tony shook off the thought and thumbed through the file.
All of the fingerprints found in his house were from the investigative team. The drugs in Tony’s system were the only real lead. If Tony had been drugged then it would have been impossible for him to have preformed the acts committed on this woman.
Tony sat in the back storage room and read through the reports as Rex, Michael, and Janice developed a plan of attack. The report detailed the sick manner in which Latisha Enzer had been raped and murdered. Possible forced penetration with a long cylindrical device not found at the scene. Possible forced penetration by suspect, condom most likely used since there was no seminal fluid found in the vagina.
Something had been shoved into her mouth repeatedly, tearing the skin around her lips. There was no semen or residual fluid found on or in the victim. Pinch marks covered her breasts and buttocks. The instrument used was akin to a roach clip. This ran against the profile he, Rex, and Jackson Spade had built. They didn’t think the killer was a drug user, too precise and clean to mess with it.
Next the report detailed how the suspect had fashioned a garrote with one of Tony’s ties--his favorite one--and strangled his victim. Tony hated the next part. The hands had been cut off post mortem. Janice had made a note about the victim scratching the suspect. Tony touched his cheeks and neck. No scratches.
Had Latisha been a willing partner for most of the night? Then at some point things turned ugly and she fought back. Or had she fought all the way to Tony’s house, forcing her will to live on the suspect and leaving evidence of the fight under her nails?
Tony paused as the team listed off the victims’ names. Angela Longfellow, Kelsey Ingles and Latisha Enzer. All three women were young, attractive and loved by someone. Tony felt grief well up in him. Somewhere, there was a woman marked with an ‘H’, just waiting to be found. Damn it, he should be part of the team, not some bozo hiding in the closet.
He would work on this case without their knowing. Somehow, he’d get the material and sift through it, looking for anything that pointed to the real killer.
Tony heard Rex’s voice change. He was winding down the meeting, preparing the team to go out and catch this sicko.
“I wanted to say I agree totally with the chief’s decision to ask Tony to leave the department. However, I know Tony is innocent. Please don’t contact him, or talk to him if he contacts you. I want him free, and I don't want our case compromised.”
Michael and Janice said nothing. Tony guessed their silence was agreement on their part. No one wanted to associate with a cop who found a dead body in his bed. Who cares that he had nothing to do with her death? Circumstantial evidence weighed against him. The whispers and gossip mill would be filled with innuendo and compromising tales by this afternoon.
The team filed out, leaving the conference room empty. Being at the police station was dangerous, but he needed to gather a few more items before sneaking out. He’d take what he needed then come back tonight if he missed anything. He crept out of the closet, double-checking the room. He sighed and slumped his shoulders forward. Yesterday he had authority here. Today he was breaking in and sneaking around.
His cell phone vibrated and he jumped. It was Marissa. Tony drew in a deep breath before he tapped the green button, connecting her call.
“Tony, I don’t want you to come by again and please don’t call.” Marissa’s voice was sharp and the words cut through Tony like a knife. First work, now Marissa. Would life ever get back to normal?
“What?” Tony said in a hushed voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the apartment.”
“Don’t leave. I’ll be there in an hour and we can talk over some pizza.”
“No. We don’t need to talk.”
The phone disconnected and Tony stared at the far wall, wondering what had gotten into his wife. Could she tell him face to face to leave her alone forever?
The path out of the conference room was blocked. Randall stood with Michael Rains at the end of the hallway. Tony pulled the door shut. His only escape from the room was the hall.
Seconds turned to minutes, and Tony poked his head out again. The coast was clear. Carrying two folders, he made a dash for the exit. Only when he was safely ensconced in his car did his breath ease back to normal. He wiped his brow with his shirt, and stuck the key into the ignition.
The passenger door flew open. Tony yelped and reached for his gun. It wasn’t there.
“Tony, not surprised to find you here. How long were you in there?” Rex closed the door and inclined his head towards the dangling keys. “You want to start this thing?”
Tony turned the engine over and directed a vent towards his face. Rex was a close friend, yet he was still a cop. With a nervous jerk, Tony reached out and grabbed the file folders he’d taken from headquarters. “I was going to return them.”
“I know, but I can’t let you take anything from the police station.”
“Damn it, Rex. I should still be working this case. I’m innocent and I know what’s going on.”
“And I don’t? Wait, don’t answer that,” Rex spat out, shaking his head, leaving Tony wondering what was up. “You can’t take the files with you. You know that. But I could use some help evaluating the evidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, I sometimes make extra copies of important information. I think some of those copies could find their way into your possession. But you can’t act on any information you find.”
“What?”
“We would be breaking every rule in the book,” Rex said.
“That’s rare. I think I need to make a note in my diary about this. It’s amazing. One day in the lead position and you’re already starting to sound like the brass at HQ.”
“Enough, you can rag me about this later. Now be a nice cop on administrative leave and give me the files.”
“You’re making a mistake.” Tony clutched the files tighter.
“Let me make it then. I want you back on the force, and if Randall found out you broke in to steal files, he would be livid.”
“So, don’t tell him,” Tony replied, holding the folders against his chest.
“It’s not going to work that way. I’ll make copies, but you can’t have the folders.”
“I need those copies tonight.”
Rex nodded. “I’ll run them by your house.”
“That won’t work. I’m staying at the Beach Combers Motel. Room one forty six.”
“I’ll be there at nine.” Rex jerked the files out of Tony’s hands.
“Don’t be late.”
Tony watched as Rex walked to his Hummer and drove off. The last four hours had been a waste.
****
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” The killer watched in disgust. Detective Tony Santos was a pig. He couldn’t believe the bastard had broken into police headquarters. It was only by accident that he’d seen Tony’s car. Rage
washed over him, drenching him in sweat and making him feel dirty.
The great detective was out of a job. Hopefully the stress would take its toll soon and send Tony into a downward spiral.
A deep chuckle escaped his throat. Tony fired from his job. This news was rewarding. He had worked at destroying Tony’s world, and was happy to see he was making progress.
He was satisfied after Latisha. Arisa Fink had been somewhat less satisfying. She was a whore, but she was fulfilling her role. She hadn’t been chosen because of his attraction to her. No, it was the location of her house and her name. It would take the police days to find her body, and when they did, he wondered if they would recognize her death as one of his projects.
Really, they weren’t that different, he and the great detective. Except the killer had a plan and Tony was still flailing in the wind, hoping something he did would work out.
It was time to up the ante, Tony needed to lose big. The killer hadn’t planned to wait, hadn’t planned to prolong the agony, but now he could. He would make Tony wonder. The game was just getting good.
Chapter 17
Tony stuffed a wad of french fries into his mouth. He chewed, savoring the salty taste. Normally he ate salads and grilled chicken, but there was nothing normal about his life right now. He needed the comfort of feeling full no matter how many inches this would add to his waist. If he kept this up, swimming wouldn’t be enough to keep the weight off. He would have to jog too.
A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He checked the peephole. Rex stood on the other side of the door, holding a small case file in his hands.
“Tony, you need something to eat?” Rex yelled.
Tony cracked the door open, checking if Rex had come alone. “No.”
“Wow, I smell fast food. Tony Santos eating a cheap burger and fries?”
“It’s the stress. Tell me you’ve brought more than one folder?”
“I’ve got more copies coming, but it will be tomorrow.”
“Damn it, I need more to clear my name.” Tony turned and kicked at a chair. It knocked into the table and a few fries bounced to the floor.
“We’re all working hard to get you cleared.”
Tony slammed the door behind Rex. He picked up the chair and righted it next to the table. “You can sit on the chair, I’ll take the bed. I brought some note cards so we can do a run through of what we know.”
“I can’t stay.”
“What?” Tony burst out, wondering how hard Rex was working to clear him.
“I have plans. Did you really want me to tell Janice I was spending the evening with you? She’s smart. If I told her I was busy, don’t you think she would follow me over here?”
“Yeah, fine. You go do your girlfriend, but don’t forget to get me the rest of the files.” Tony clenched a handful of his hair, pulling his skin tight. The pain felt good and gave him some clarity. “I’ve got to get back on the force. I need to be cleared.”
“I’ll help you as much as I can, just not tonight. It’s almost nine and Janice is expecting me soon.”
“Go,” Tony said. His voice was flat, draining the energy from the room. He felt his resolve slip away. He needed answers now, not later.
“You going to be okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” Tony lied. He wasn’t going to be fine until this string of murders was solved. Until he found out who had killed Ashley, until this psycho stopped coming after him, he wouldn’t be fine. But Rex couldn’t see that.
The door shut behind Rex and a painful silence followed. Tony picked up his phone, thinking about Marissa. He placed it back on the table, fear of rejection weighing heavy.
Tomorrow. He would contact her tomorrow.
Tony turned off the light and shifted his body into a more comfortable position. His plans had changed. He needed sleep now, because in the morning he was driving to Houston. He tossed and turned for a short while before succumbing to sleep. Dreams pulled him in fast. He rolled over in his sleep, tossing the covers to the floor.
A shiver raced up Tony’s spine when he touched the icy glass. They were here. The beautiful couple stepped out of their sparkling white car. They hugged. Holding hands, they walked towards the entry. He would have a future.
A bubble of excitement rose in his chest. He was going home today. To a real home. Not another crummy orphanage.
Now he was in another part of the building. The door to the dormitory swung open and he saw Wuss packing his clothes. Tony yelled at Wuss, “They’re my parents not yours.”
Wuss held him down and pounded his face. Tony gasped for breath and fought for freedom, but it was useless. The other boys stood around them, laughing as Tony was pummeled.
Tony had been wrong when he came up with the name Wuss. He tried to tell Wuss he’d been wrong but words wouldn’t come, they were frozen in his throat.
Tony’s mind clicked and he saw Wuss standing with the beautiful couple. They were holding his hand and smiling down at him. Anger rose in Tony’s chest like a hot air balloon, puffing up his ego and making him feel bigger than he really was.
He ran at Wuss, knocking him to the ground. With fists flying, Tony got in two good punches before the director pulled him away. The words Wuss had whispered in his ear while they were rolling on the ground echoed in Tony’s head, “Life sucks, and then you die.”
Tony jumped, waking with a start. His heart hammered and confusion swamped him. He sat up, unsure where he was. The sound of a truck’s engine break echoed off the buildings surrounding the cheap motel. He groaned, wishing Marissa was here with him. He hated his nightmares from the past. His wife’s loving arms were a salve to his soul when the dreams crept up on him.
He dressed quickly, stopping by the all night McDonald’s on the freeway out of town. By six Tony had already made it to the outskirts of Houston
At seven, Tony parked near the FBI building and watched for Jackson to show up. He held the grainy black and white image of Jackson he’d downloaded from the web, checking it against each person who walked past. He placed the first call at seven thirty. Voice mail, he didn’t leave a message. At eight the phone rolled to voice mail again. Finally, at nine, Tony struck gold.
“Spade here.”
“This is Tony Santos. I need a favor.”
“Oh man, I heard what happened. So is your suspension over?”
Tony was quiet, not wanting to admit to the agent he was still off the force. Shame rocketed through his body. He couldn’t face the truth. He wasn’t police material anymore.
“Hey, for what it’s worth, I know you didn’t do it.”
“Know? How do you know?”
“You’re in Houston, right?”
“Yeah,” Tony answered, wondering how Jackson knew where he was.
“Come upstairs. I’ll tell the guard to let you in.”
“Wait, Jackson, how do you know I’m downstairs?”
“I saw you sitting in your car on the way in. I was going to come down and find you if you didn’t call soon.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“No, I’m just that FBI.”
Tony shut his cell phone, disconnecting the line. He made his way across the street to the tall brick and glass building. The guard waved him through the metal detectors and onto the elevator.
“Press eight,” the guard said before the elevator doors shut.
Tony obediently pressed eight and in seconds, the doors slid open. Jackson Spade stood in the hall. He wore a dark suit and his hair was combed neatly back. His gaze was sharp, missing nothing and his jaw set in a ‘no nonsense’ manner.
Yep, the man was ‘that FBI.’
“Santos, good to see you. Call me Spade, makes me feel important.”
“Sure, Spade. I need some help.”
“I have the morning I can give you,” Spade replied as he moved down the hall to his office.
“Great, but I don’t have all of the information from the case.”
“Don’t wo
rry, we don’t need much. Tell me what you know and then we’ll start.”
Tony told Spade everything he could think of. He talked about Angela Longfellow’s room being clean, Kelsey’s bruises and about Latisha Enzer’s injuries. Spade made no comment, even when Tony mentioned that all three victims had their hands cut off post mortem. The burns and pinch marks didn’t elicit a response. Even Sekorski’s theory that all three women had been molested with a long cylindrical object and tortured before their death, didn’t get a word.
An hour later, Tony was drained from reliving the ordeal.
“Tony, who hates you?” Spade asked, his voice soft, almost not getting through the mental war waging in Tony’s head.
“What?”
“None of this is about the three women, four if the ‘H’ theory comes into play. The blond hair at the first murder and the piece of cloth at the second are very suspicious. When will Sekorski have the info back on your daughter?”
“Not for a while.”
“Hmmm. This person is after you. Tell me about your life, your childhood, your girlfriends, and don’t leave anything out. We need to figure out where you made an enemy and see if we can place them in your town.”
“So you’re telling me someone hates me enough to kill my daughter, and now he’s taking his anger out on the entire town?”
“Yes, but don’t limit it to men. Your perp could be female.”
“Female? But the victims were raped.”
“With a large cylindrical object. You need to update yourself on the plethora of sexual sadist devices out there. Our UNSUB, unidentified subject, could be using any number of things. A vibrator, a dildo, hell, they even have this contraption where the dildo is attached to a harness. As far as that goes, the object could be a pipe or a beer bottle.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me? Women raping women. I don’t believe it.”
“In a murder two years ago, a lesbian was raped by another woman wearing one of those harnesses. She tore up the victim. It was bad. You can buy inserts for the harness to fit any length desired. So, this woman goes out, purchases the biggest dildo she can find, straps it on herself and rapes the victim. Bruises the victim’s insides so bad it looked like raw meat.”