by C. M. Sutter
I let out a disgusted sigh and scratched out another note on my list. We needed to know for sure if the torso found that morning actually belonged with the legs it was bagged with. Or could it possibly belong to the legs that were found in Oakland City? I tapped the legal pad with my pen.
No matter what, besides the heads and fingers, we’re still missing two sets of arms and a torso. Where the hell can they be, and why aren’t they with the body parts we’ve found?
I set my notes to the side—it was already eleven o’clock, and I needed sleep. I’d see what the verdict was from Dave before contacting Jack in the morning and asking for an extension of my vacation time. There was no need to jump the gun.
I had zero confidence that I’d get a restful night’s sleep and thought about the poem ’Twas the Night Before Christmas, but instead of visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, it was body parts. I groaned at the image I had just concocted. Would I wake from nightmares that could possibly move the case along or just nightmares that were horrific? I had no idea, but I twisted the knob on the table lamp, closed my eyes, and hoped that a peaceful night’s sleep would somehow find me.
Chapter 25
The familiar-sounding bell rang above my head as I crossed the threshold into the butcher shop and saw a half dozen people standing in line. I took a number and browsed the shelves as I waited my turn. My heart began to race wildly as a quick glance at the butcher brought back that image of the man at my car window who was wielding the meat cleaver. Was he the killer or not? I stepped back to an inconspicuous corner and watched as he raised the cleaver over his head on a human arm and, with a loud whack, separated it from the hand. He dropped the arm on the scale and weighed it.
“That’s eight pounds. Good enough?”
The customer nodded, pulled out his wallet, and paid for the wrapped piece of meat. The next customer ordered a quartered leg, and the customer after that, two hands. Each body part was weighed, wrapped, and happily paid for as I watched in horror. The butcher called my number, and it was my turn at the counter. I couldn’t find my voice—I was frozen with fear.
“What can I get for you, little lady? Today’s special is body parts.” He grinned as he lifted the cleaver and came down on another human arm.
I bolted upright and gasped. My heart felt as though it was about to explode. I flipped the light switch and reached for the bottle of water then held its cool plastic surface against my face. I twisted the cap and guzzled half of it without taking a breath.
The nightmare I’d just had nearly made me physically sick. I took in deep, deliberate breaths to slow my heart rate. I knew that dream couldn’t possibly come true, but once again, my nightmare involved that butcher, and I didn’t understand why. For now, I’d keep the disturbing dream to myself. It was too disgusting to share with anyone. As I shook a melatonin tablet into my hand and swallowed it with the rest of the water, I knew in my heart that tomorrow, I’d walk through the door of that butcher shop again.
With my eyes squeezed tight, I prayed that Dave Masters would come through for me. Even though the Atlanta PD didn’t ask for my help and probably didn’t believe in my abilities, I felt my dreams would solve the case that the PD couldn’t.
I woke to voices in the hallway just outside my bedroom door. I listened—it was Mom and Kim up and starting their day. I reached for my phone to check the time—7:44 a.m. I believed Dave’s work day began at eight o’clock. It would be a few hours before he’d call, I was sure of that. I slipped on my bathrobe and joined Mom and Kim in the kitchen as they sat at the table while the coffee brewed.
“Morning, guys,” I whispered. I looked around. “Beth still sleeping?”
Kim raised a brow. “She probably is now. I heard her sobbing all night in the guest room. Unfortunately, we have adjoining walls.”
“Sorry, Sis. I’ll swap rooms with you if you want. I’m not the best sleeper, anyway.”
Kim swiped the air. “Who can blame her, poor thing.” She pushed back her chair and brought over the coffee carafe. She filled our cups then set the carafe on a trivet while Mom opened a grocery store tray of assorted Danish and placed them on the table.
I gave her an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
Mom’s shoulders dropped as she let out an involuntary sigh. “What’s your gut telling you, Kate?”
I glanced down the hallway before speaking. “It’s telling me the PD needs my help because at this point, they have zilch.” I lowered my voice even more. “Janine is a cop, and if anyone knows how to get out of trouble, it’s going to be a cop. It’s not looking good, Mom, and she’s been missing since Thursday night.”
I took a sip of coffee then heard footsteps approaching. I made a zip-it motion across my mouth. Seconds later, Beth entered the kitchen and plopped down at the table.
“Any news, Kate?”
“Sorry, but it could take a while. I’m sure the sergeant has to get the day started with his unit, then hopefully his boss can spare a few minutes of his time. Let me get you some coffee.” I walked to the cabinet, pulled out another coffee cup, then set it in front of Beth. She nodded a thank-you.
“I hope I didn’t keep anyone awake last night, but I’m beside myself with worry.”
Kim squeezed her hand. “Don’t give it another thought. We’re fine. Just stay positive. Janine will be back soon.”
I nudged Kim’s foot under the table and gave her a stern look. She and I needed to talk later. Giving people false hope and encouragement in the worst of times was more detrimental than helpful. Janine’s disappearance was a serious matter, and as the hours ticked by, the hopes of finding her alive were fading quickly. My hands were tied for now, but I could do a bit of investigating on my own, just without the benefit of a badge.
I made eye contact with Kim and tipped my head toward the hallway. Mom and Beth were deep in their own conversation. We stood, cleared the table, and casually walked down the hall to my old bedroom. I turned the knob and quietly closed the door behind us.
“Kim, you can’t talk about the Fulton County Butcher in the same sentence as Janine’s disappearance. Beth almost blew a gasket last night. And please, don’t give her false hope.”
Kim took a seat at the foot of my bed. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do, be positive?”
The box springs squeaked as I plopped down next to her. “In a perfect world, yes, but this is far from a perfect situation. It’s actually a very grim ordeal, and in my heart, I don’t foresee a good outcome.”
Kim frowned her disagreement. “That’s being negative.”
“No, it’s being realistic, and I’m a cop. I know the outcome statistics when somebody has been missing for more than two days, and they’re usually bad. Giving Beth that kind of hope will lead her to believe Janine is coming home unscathed. She’ll expect it to happen, and when it doesn’t, Beth will go off the deep end.”
“Well, shit, Kate, what am I supposed to say to her, then?”
“General responses like ‘The cops are working hard at finding her’ or ‘We’ll know something soon.’ It’s really all we can do.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, and I’ll be more careful.”
“Good. I’m going to shower and then do a little PI work on my own until I hear from Sergeant Masters.”
Kim’s eyes bulged. “Really? Can I go along?”
“Hell no. I have to watch every move I make so I don’t interfere with their investigation. At this point, I’m only going to follow my notes.”
“Your nose?”
I smiled. “Yeah, and that too.”
Chapter 26
As I tossed my backpack on the passenger seat, I realized that it was Sunday, and the butcher shop was closed. I smacked the steering wheel with my open hand. “Damn it. Hold on a minute.” I rifled through my purse and found the butcher shop receipt buried at the bottom under the rest of my useless stuff. I smoothed it out on the console and took a closer look. I remembered the store was called Greg’s Chop
Shop, but I didn’t know whether the proprietor’s name was listed on the receipt. “There it is, Gregory McMillian, Proprietor. Now all I need is Wi-Fi and a good cup of coffee.” I thought about my mom’s coffee and wondered why it tasted bad.
Maybe it’s the water.
With a quick search on my phone, I found a coffee shop only a half mile away and headed in that direction. Once inside, I ordered a grande latte and settled in at a corner table with my laptop in front of me and a legal pad to my right. I set my phone to vibrate in case Dave called, placed it on the table within sight, then typed the name of the butcher shop in the search bar and waited for the results to come up. I chose the first link under the slew of ads that held the top positions on the page. It looked to be the official website for the butcher shop, and I clicked it. Across the top of the website were several tabs, but the only one I was interested in was the one that said About. I moved the cursor to that tab and opened it. The butcher shop had been in business for forty years and had originally belonged to Greg’s father, Ted. Greg learned the trade as a teenager while helping out during the summer months and eventually bought the store from his dad when the parents moved to Arizona.
Come on. You had to have some formal training, didn’t you?
I searched that question and realized that butchers usually learned the trade on the job, and no formal education was necessary.
Shoot. So he could be a very skilled cutter just because he’s practiced the art for years. There’s still the chance that a real surgeon or somebody who’s going to medical school could be involved, or anyone who has watched online videos, for that matter.
I still hadn’t gotten anywhere, and I was on my second cup of coffee. I checked the time—8:52 and still no word from Masters. I did a BBB search for the butcher shop to see if there had ever been complaints against Greg McMillian, and there hadn’t. I logged in to the criminal database using my law enforcement ID and password. He had never been arrested either.
So he doesn’t even have prints on file unless he was in the armed forces.
I checked that too, and he had never been in the military. I jotted down every detail that I could find about him as I conducted the search. It was looking as though Greg McMillian was as clean-cut as any law-abiding citizen, and I’d dreamed about him only because Kim and I had been in his shop. Still, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I packed up my computer and headed home before making an unplanned stop in the parking lot of the butcher shop. I sat in the car and stared at the building but saw nothing remarkable about it. It didn’t look as if any remodeling had been done during those forty years, but maybe the customers liked it that way. It gave a sense of longevity and security—it had been in the neighborhood forever.
I pushed open the driver’s-side door and stepped out. Traffic was light that Sunday morning, and I wasn’t actually trespassing, only walking up to the building’s entrance to check the hours on the suction-cupped door sign. I casually glanced around and didn’t notice cameras mounted on the building, anyway. I assumed that since it appeared to be a relatively safe neighborhood, nobody would think it suspicious that a female was walking the property in broad daylight. I glanced down the left side of the building, peeked through the window, then crossed to the right side, where the dumpster was located. I lifted the lid and immediately backed away as I covered my nose with my forearm. The sickening scent of rotting meat overwhelmed me, and my gag reflexes kicked in. Gravel crunched, a siren squawked at my back, and I spun at the sound.
You’ve got to be shitting me. A cop is pulling in.
I reached my car and leaned over the hood as the officer approached me. If I hadn’t felt like throwing up, it might have seemed funny.
“Ma’am, I’d like to know what you’re doing here since it’s obvious this business is closed for the day.”
I held up my hand and pointed toward the street. “Can we talk a little farther out?”
The officer walked toward the mailbox, and I followed a few feet behind.
“Now, again, what are you doing here?”
I checked his name patch. “Sorry, Officer Williams. I was here yesterday to pick up a special birthday party order, and I left my sunglasses behind. I was hoping there was the chance that the proprietor was around, that’s all.”
“In the dumpster?”
I forced a smile. “And I really regret opening that lid. I had no idea rotting meat could smell so disgusting. I guess it hit me all at once and overwhelmed me.”
He pulled out his notepad. “Why were you looking in the dumpster?”
“I thought he might have thrown the sunglasses away, that’s all. My mistake. I should have waited until tomorrow and returned during business hours, but the glasses were expensive, and they have prescription lenses. I need them for reading.”
He scratched his head and sighed. “The reason this neighborhood is safe is because the police patrol the area. We don’t turn a blind eye.”
“And I appreciate that.”
“Fine.” He jerked his chin toward my car. “Go on and don’t let me see you back here today.”
“I promise you won’t.” I climbed in behind the wheel and turned around in the parking lot. He wasn’t going to leave until I was gone.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m damn lucky he didn’t ask to see my driver’s license. The last thing I need is for word to get out that I was snooping around a business that was clearly closed for the day.
I continued the mile to the house, and I still hadn’t heard from Dave Masters.
Chapter 27
The scene was the same when I walked in, and the house felt heavy with despair. Beth, Mom, and Kim sat at the kitchen table, each with their chin propped on their fist and doing little else.
“How about going for a walk? You guys need to get out of the house, enjoy the sunshine, and get some fresh air.”
Kim collected the coffee cups and put them in the sink. “That’s a great idea. Come on. We’ll stop at your house first, Beth, make sure everything is okay, and then walk to Grant Park.” Kim pulled me aside as Mom and Beth dressed for the day. “Find out anything?”
My shoulders dropped with discouragement. “Nope, and it doesn’t help that I have no idea what I’m looking for. I can’t snoop around in the areas that are closed with police tape. If Masters got wind of that, he’d never let me join in on the investigation.” I cupped my hand and whispered. “I was already questioned by a cop this morning for snooping around the butcher shop.”
Kim’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “Why the hell were you there?”
I shrugged. “I’m a cop. When cops investigate things, everyone and everything is fair game.” I tipped my head toward the hallway. “Go on. Keep those two busy. I have more work to do.”
Ten minutes later, I watched out the window as they turned left on the sidewalk and disappeared from view. With my laptop powered up and on the kitchen table, I pulled up a map of Atlanta and noted the locations where the recent body parts and the ones from last year were found. I was sure the cemetery was still under investigation, and I didn’t know the exact spot in Oakland City where the body parts were found, but I could walk the streets where the body parts were dumped last year. At least it would give me something to do while I waited for the call from Dave Masters.
I programmed the largest cross streets into my phone, and just as I was about to leave, it rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the screen—a blocked number. I knew it had to be Masters. I grabbed a pen and paper and sat at the kitchen table before answering.
“Hello.”
“Kate, it’s Dave Masters.”
“Hi, Dave, thanks for calling. So what’s the word?” I had my fingers and legs crossed.
“It wasn’t an easy task, but after the honest realization that we have absolutely nothing to go on as far as the Fulton County Butcher or Janine’s disappearance, my commander agreed to have a sit-down with you. That was after he read your lengthy profile a
nd reviewed the cases you consulted on at the Nashville and Chicago police departments.”
It was hard to hold back my excitement. “Uh-huh.”
“Needless to say, although this is very unorthodox, he wants to meet you, get your take on the current situation, and if we’re all in agreement, he’s willing to bring you on board.”
“I can be there whenever it’s convenient for him.” I shut down the laptop and put it in my backpack as we spoke.
“Okay, it’s coming up on ten o’clock. Can you be here in fifteen minutes?”
“Not a problem.” I grabbed the car keys off the table and dropped them into my back pocket.
“Good. I’ll meet you at the information counter, and the commander’s name is Loren Moss.”
“Perfect, and I’ll see you in a few.” I ended the call and fired off a text to Kim. “Ask Mom where the spare house key is—I need to lock up. The PD is allowing me to help in the investigation.” I ended the text with a smiley face emoji.
I’d see how the meeting with Moss went, then I’d talk to Jack that night. I knew he’d agree to let me stay a few extra days or at least long enough to get my ideas and opinions across to the Atlanta PD.
The return text from Kim said the spare key was on a hook in the upper cabinet where the coffee cups were and that Mom said it was fine for me to hang onto the key during my stay. She included a mention that Beth was very thankful for my help. With the house locked up, I headed out with my notes and laptop in my backpack, along with a strong will to help find Janine and assist in the Fulton County Butcher case.
Chapter 28
“I like you, Tristan, and you remind me of somebody I once knew.”
Janine scooted to the backside of the cage. “That’s all sweet and good, but yesterday you said you’d release me today. What about that?”