Bring Me Flowers_A gripping serial-killer thriller with a shocking twist

by D. K. Hood

  Jenkins’ mouth dropped open but he remained silent.

  “At the moment, we are conducting searches of his car and house, and any computers he has in his possession will be examined for evidence.” She reached for her coffee and eyed him over the rim of the mug. “I read your client his rights and he has remained silent. If you would like to speak to him, I will take you to him now.”

  Jenkins made a great show of reading the documents, punctuated by huffs and puffs of annoyance. “You have nothing. This is all supposition. I will speak to my client—alone, as is his right.”

  Jenna pushed to her feet, eyeing the muffin on her plate with a sense of loss. “I’ll take you to him now but we need to interview him as well.” She called to Walters to follow and left him on guard outside the cells.

  Delivering Jenkins to his client, she offered him a smile. “You should be aware I am issuing a statement to the press this morning, and with luck we’ll have more witnesses coming forward. I’ll send the evidence we discover to the prosecutor; I’m sure under full disclosure he will forward the details to your office in due course.” She turned and headed back to her muffin. I sure hope my deputies find something.

  Thirty-Eight

  After dressing in protective coveralls, booties, and mask, Kane pulled on a pair of latex gloves then popped the trunk of Steve Rogers’ dark blue sedan. A waft of sewerage hit him in the face and he whistled. “Ah, Wolfe, I think we have something here.” He waved Rowley over to take photographs. The camera clicked twenty or more shots and he waved to get his attention. “That’s good enough.”

  He stood to one side to allow Wolfe, dressed in blue coveralls with only his eyes visible, to peer into the recess. “Muddy boots and a shovel. What do you think he was doing in the forest?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but from the smell and what looks like blood and definitely hair, he wasn’t up to anything good.” Wolfe’s pale eyes peered at him over the top of his mask. “I’ve collected an assortment of hair and fibers from the interior and swabbed any suspicious areas. If you could collect fingerprints, I’ll work here. Rowley is in charge of the samples—it’s best we have one man doing that job so we don’t step on each other’s toes.” He removed the boots from the trunk and dropped them into an evidence bag held open by Rowley. “Cover both ends of the shovel then roll the entire thing in plastic.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rowley juggled the huge evidence bag as if it had a severed head inside, gave a snort of laughter, then complied.

  Kane nodded. “Right, I’ll leave the logging of evidence to him. I’m interested to see what shows up under luminol.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  After dusting the car and running the scanner over the prints, he returned to watch Wolfe. The meticulous way he collected evidence impressed him. The man was so methodical and nothing escaped his attention. One hour later, satisfied he had everything he needed, Wolfe expertly sprayed the trunk with luminol. Kane extinguished the lights and gaped at the bloodstains showing under the UV black flashlight.

  “I know it’s blood but I have yet to determine if it’s human blood. He could have killed a dog and buried it in the forest. If it is human, I’ll run a DNA test to see if it matches any of our victims.” Wolfe’s blond eyebrow rose. “If it doesn’t fit the genetic profile of any of the victims here or interstate, and it is human blood, then we’ll have another mystery on our hands.” His gaze moved to Kane. “We should search the house first and grab his laptop. If this blood is human, we’ll have to backtrack from where you saw his car parked in case he buried a body close by. It won’t be easy to do a grid search of the forest on our own. We’ll need cadaver dogs. If the test is positive, I’ll make a few calls when we get back to the office and see if we can get a team down here first thing in the morning.”

  Mind reeling with the implications of Wolfe’s statement, Kane frowned. “I’m confused. If Rogers is our killer, burying a body is a complete turnaround in behavior. I have yet to hear of a psychopath who enjoys exhibiting his kills one day then burying them another. I’ve read about killers burying their victims and digging them up later but not both fetishes at the same time.” Every hair on his body stood on end at the idea of two killers in town. “What if Rogers isn’t our man?”

  “Don’t get sidetracked. There is no evidence of another murder and we have no one else reported missing in the area.” Wolfe’s stern gaze got his attention. “We don’t know if he kidnapped Felicity. We are assuming he killed her in the river. What if he disabled her and transported her to the river in the trunk of his car? When you caught him beside the forest the other night, he could have been burying his trophies. Felicity’s clothing or the knife he used to kill Joanne.”

  Wolfe made a lot of sense and Kane’s hackles went down. “How long before you know if the blood is human?”

  “I’ll check it now. I can do a precipitin test. It distinguishes between the blood of humans and animals. I have a kit in the lab.” Wolfe let out a long, tired sigh. “It will take time to run the DNA tests. I have purchased the latest equipment but we’re looking at three days at least before I’ll get a result.”

  * * *

  Kane followed Wolfe from the garage and into a small laboratory Wolfe shared with the previous M.E. The room was cramped yet sterile and he wondered how Wolfe managed to juggle so many jobs at once. He waited for the result, and when Wolfe held up the test tube and his ice-gray eyes met his over the mask, his stomach dropped to his boots. “It’s positive, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s human blood, but until the DNA results come back or we find concrete evidence in his home or on his hard drive, we can’t assume he killed the girls—or in fact anyone. The blood could be his, for all we know.” Wolfe’s blond brows met in a frown. “In forensics it’s baby steps, not rushing to conclusions. What comes out of my lab, I’ll need to verify with proof in court. I know it’s frustrating but as you only have circumstantial evidence, the blood work has to be conclusive.”

  Kane stripped off his gloves, blue coveralls, and booties. “You get the tests started and we’ll search Rogers’ home. If I find anything of interest I’ll call you, and if not I’ll bring any computers I find back to the office.”

  “Okay.” Wolfe’s pale gaze remained on his face. “Take your time. If this is our man, we need to do everything by the book.”

  He gave him a wave and headed for the door with Rowley on his heels. “By the book it is.”

  * * *

  The drive to Steve Rogers’ house took longer than usual. Traveling through town with the hustle and bustle of the rodeo crowd was bad enough but jaywalkers streamed across the road dodging vehicles as if they had a date with the Grim Reaper. They took no notice of the blue flashing lights on Kane’s SUV, and waved or grinned at him as if he had turned them on to join in the celebration. “Is it like this every year?”

  “Every year?” Rowley flashed him a cheeky grin. “We’ll have a least another four events at the fairgrounds this summer. Right now, it’s tame; wait until later, they go a bit crazy after the dance and once they get the drink into them. The park becomes party central and Aunt Betty’s Café stays open twenty-four hours to keep the food coming.”

  Kane hit the siren a couple of times to move a bunch of teenagers from blocking the road, and rather than quiver with fright at his stare of death, they made a cacophony of grunts. He shook his head, biting back the laughter threatening to break his austere façade. “The Blackwater deputies are going to have their work cut out for them. I might see if I can borrow a few extra men from Durum County. With all of us covering the murder cases, we don’t have time for this shit.”

  “Sometimes when it’s tough with murders and the like, I look forward to normal times like these.” Rowley’s mouth turned down at the corners. “How do you handle the nightmares?”

  Kane fell back on his cover story; only Jenna and Wolfe knew the truth about his past. “I don’t have nightmares. At first, yeah, it was difficult workin
g homicide and seeing up close what people are capable of doing. The kids’ murders got to me but when I shot my first killer, I sure as hell didn’t lose any sleep over it.”

  He turned out of town and doused the lights as they hit Stanton Road ten minutes later. He turned into Rogers’ driveway and parked. “Full gear, same as before, we don’t want to contaminate a possible crime scene.” He slid from the car and opened the back door to pull out his bag. “Here, help yourself.”

  Using Rogers’ keys, they entered the premises, and just in case Mrs. Rogers was at home and thought blue-suited aliens had invaded her house, he pushed the door open slowly. “Sheriff’s department. Are you there, Mrs. Rogers?”

  At no response, he moved inside the family room, placed his bag on the floor, and glanced around. The room smelled like cleaning products and mildew. “The Chinese rug is missing. I remember seeing it when I came to interview him. It was bright red and blue, very distinctive.” He strolled across the room and flung open the drapes. “Turn on the lights, start this end of the room, and check every surface for blood spatter or hair. I’ll take a quick look through the house. If you see anything, mark it and photograph it. I’ll take samples when I return.”

  His gut gave a small twist; something did not ring true with the home. When he had looked inside the last time, the home was as neat as a pin; now the kitchen had dirty plates stacked on the counter but the sink was empty. Why?

  Most people would pile plates in the sink if they did not have a dishwasher, and he could not see any appliances other than a stove and refrigerator. From the state of the house, Mrs. Rogers had not returned to collect her belongings. Takeout cartons littered the trashcan overflowing onto the floor, and the smell of spoiled food was disgusting. He peered down the sink, surprised to find the smell of cleaning products missing. Returning to the family room, he collected a specimen jar from his bag of tricks and headed back to the kitchen. After removing the p-trap under the sink, he carefully tipped the contents into the specimen jar then bagged the pipe. He might find trace evidence if Rogers had washed blood from his hands in the sink, and by the color of the water in the trap, he had hit pay dirt.

  Thirty-Nine

  Kane took the samples back to the family room and, leaning against a dresser, labeled each one then stashed them in a main evidence bag. He turned to Deputy Rowley. “I’m labeling these specimens ‘Rogers House,’ then the room and numbering each one.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Kane watched as Rowley collected a couple of what looked like fingernails and bagged them. “When you spoke to Mrs. Rogers at her sister’s house, did she say when she would be returning home?”

  “When hell freezes over, I believe.”

  Kane glanced around. “No wonder the place is such a mess.”

  Taking his time, he moved through the house, doing a preliminary search. Most of the rooms appeared undisturbed but the main bedroom had clothes on the floor, and on the unmade bed sat a laptop. He bagged the device then did a quick search of the area. Taking photographs of each section, he opened the cupboard doors and peered inside. The couple had a his-and-hers built-in wardrobe, and from the amount of clothes hanging on Mrs. Rogers’ side, she had not taken much with her. The racks appeared full and the neatly lined-up rows of shoes undisturbed. He had known frightened women to walk out with just the clothes on their back, but she had not mentioned her husband had abused her. Something isn’t right here.

  He turned a full circle, examining the room in small sections, then noticed the purse tucked down beside the bed. His wife, Annie, had kept her purse next to the bed and her cellphone on the bedside table; maybe all women did the same—except Jenna, she kept a loaded Glock 22 beside her bed. He smiled at the conflicting memories and bent to retrieve the purse. Inside he found the normal array of female necessities but goosebumps prickled his flesh at the sight of a wallet and credit cards.

  He reached for his cellphone and dialed Mrs. Rogers’ number. A ringtone blasted, sending his heart racing. He slid open the top drawer of the nightstand and the bright light from the screen illuminated the contents. The cellphone sat beside a carved wooden box containing an assortment of gold jewelry.

  He disconnected and stared at the cellphone in disbelief. Sure, a woman might leave in a hurry during an argument but not without her purse, jewelry, and cellphone. Mrs. Rogers had been at her sister’s when Rowley had taken her statement. She had made a point of saying she would be staying with her sister, and his gut screamed that something did not gel. A pang of worry curled in his gut as he stared at the cellphone sitting in the drawer. He called Jenna and waited for her to pick up. “I’ve found Mrs. Rogers’ cellphone here at Rogers’ house and her purse but before we jump to conclusions we’ll need to check if she is still staying with her sister.”

  “I’ll ask Maggie to give her a call. Perhaps she wanted to break all contact with her husband?”

  Frowning at the open purse, he sighed. “I hope so but I don’t know many women who would leave home without their purse, credit cards, and cellphone. The entire situation isn’t sitting right with me. I’ll keep looking around and see what I can find.”

  “Bag and tag and I’ll try to find her. You might want to check her calls and see who she contacted. If I find her in the meantime, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Roger that.” He hung up, removed the cellphone from the evidence bag, and finding it unlocked, scrolled through the list of recent calls and texts.

  He found the usual banter between two sisters and a few references to her husband being a pig, meeting other women, and spending too much time in town with his students. He recognized the number of her last call and, replacing the cellphone in the evidence bag, pulled out his own device and scrolled down his contacts. He blinked in confusion. The last person she called was Jake Rowley.

  What the hell is going on here? He jogged down the stairs and came close to colliding with Rowley as he came through the family room door. “Did you receive a call from Mrs. Rogers after you’d interviewed her?”

  “Yeah.” Rowley gave him a bemused stare and pulled out his cellphone. “I must have been calling someone because she left a message. When I returned the call, she didn’t pick up.” He hit a button and replayed the message.

  “Deputy Rowley, this is Millicent Rogers. You said to contact you if I remembered anything and I have. I will call you back in the morning.”

  “With all that has been going on, I completely forgot to mention the call to you.” Rowley looked chagrined.

  “I understand, it has been hectic and it sure doesn’t sound like she was in trouble or worried about her husband. If the sheriff locates her, we’ll follow up on what she remembered.” Kane headed upstairs to search the bathroom.

  The dirty laundry hamper overflowed onto a pile of wet stinking towels on the floor. Photographing everything as he moved through the area, he noticed the neatly lined-up beauty products on the shelves. The mess was certainly not usual for Mrs. Rogers and again, women who come back to pack take everything; hell, he had a good idea how much money women spent on face cream alone. Glad of the face mask, he bagged all the dirty clothes and pushed the towels into a separate bag. Concern for Mrs. Rogers’ welfare became a priority. He collected the hairbrush and toothbrushes in case Wolfe could find a DNA sample. Something stinks and it isn’t the dirty laundry.

  Mind reeling with confusion, Kane went downstairs and back into the kitchen. He noticed a few dark spots on the ceiling and took samples. The idea Rogers had murdered his wife flashed in his mind like a neon sign but the practical side of his brain insisted a psychopathic killer capable of dissecting three young women and putting them on display would be unlikely at best to risk murdering his wife. Add the fact he had searched every damn inch of the place and so far had found nothing in relation to the three victims. Psychopathic murderers keep trophies, and if Rogers had hidden them somewhere, they would be easily accessible. The need to touch and relive the thrill was a common trait.
He met Rowley in the hallway. “I’ve found nothing relating to the victims. You?”

  “Nope, mostly dust and a few smears of something on the hall floor. I’ve marked it and taken samples.” Rowley’s dark eyes moved toward the hallway. “If it is blood, then it’s feasible something or someone was wrapped in the Chinese rug and dragged out the back door. I found a couple of dark spots in the laundry; the back door leads to the garage.”

  A tingle of worry crawled up Kane’s spine. “Wolfe gave me a test kit. If it’s blood, we need to call Wolfe.” He strolled into the family room and retrieved the kit from his bag.

  The test was simple enough: drop a swab into a small test tube and shake. He flicked a gaze at Rowley, who watched him with interest. “Yeah, it’s blood. I’ll call Wolfe then I guess I’ll have to check the cellar.”

  “You must hate checking cellars?”

  After finding two bodies and Jenna fighting for her life in various cellars six months previously, he understood Rowley’s worries. “Yeah, I do. Let’s hope this one’s empty.”

  He contacted Wolfe and gave him the rundown on the situation and Wolfe had offered to take over. He sighed with relief—once he cleared the cellar, he could get back to the office and go over the facts and timeline with Jenna. As he had not heard back from her on Mrs. Rogers’ whereabouts, the possibility something had happened to her shouted loudly in his head.