BLOOD
WALK
Book 8 of the Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Series
Melissa Bowersock
Copyright © 2018 by Melissa Bowersock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in an online review or one printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
First Printing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover image by coversbydesign.net.
ISBN-13: 978-1984979766
ISBN-10: 1984979760
Books by Melissa Bowersock
The Appaloosa Connection
The Blue Crystal
Burning Through
Finding Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 1)
Being Travis
(No Time for Travis Series Book 2)
Fleischerhaus
Ghost Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 1)
Skin Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 2)
Star Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 3)
Dream Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 4)
Dragon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 5)
Demon Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 6)
Soul Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 7)
Blood Walk
(Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud
Mystery Book 8)
Goddess Rising
Lightning Strikes
Love’s Savage Armpit by Amber Flame
(Originally published as The Pits of Passion)
The Man in the Black Hat
Marcia Gates: Angel of Bataan
Queen’s Gold
The Rare Breed
Remember Me
Sonnets for Heidi
Stone’s Ghost
Superstition Gold
BLOOD
WALK
Melissa Bowersock
ONE
Lacey unpacked the second to the last box and arranged her books on the bookshelf. Criminology, Modern Forensics, Practical Profiling. Those books of hers went up next to Sam’s collection of Magnum PI DVDs.
Weren’t they a pair, she thought with a wry smile. The Irish and the Navajo, the ex-cop and the medium. She couldn’t remember a stranger pairing, but they made it work. And when they got married…
That was still weird to think about. After her ex had trashed their relationship along with his and her careers in the LAPD, she’d put aside all thought of marriage. But with Sam, well, the idea just made her all warm and mushy inside.
She stood back and studied the bookshelf one last time. It was good. Tucking her dark red hair behind her ears, she broke the box down for recycling. It felt good to be done. The last box was pictures they would hang on the wall, and there was no hurry for that.
The new apartment felt absolutely spacious compared to the old place. This last weekend, they’d ferried over truckload after truckload of furniture, both from Sam’s old apartment and hers, and even the combined households didn’t crowd the new place. Now, Sam’s kids Kenzie and Daniel both had their own rooms whenever they visited on weekends.
Perfect, she thought.
She’d gotten a lot done that day. She checked her watch; after four. Time to start dinner. Sam would be home soon.
She thought he would be surprised at how much she’d accomplished, how much the apartment looked like a real, lived-in home and not a storage locker packed with boxes.
She did not expect him to surprise her.
She was just checking the chicken in the oven when he pushed through the front door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called, imitating a clichéd greeting from 50’s TV programs.
“In the kitchen,” she said. “But I’m not wearing pearls.”
She pushed the wire rack back into the oven and stood up. When she turned toward the door, there was Sam, lunchbox in one hand, a red rose in the other.
“Wha—?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. “If you’re not familiar, the red rose is a mark of passion.”
“Valentine’s Day? Oh, no! I forgot all about it.” Lacey’s face flamed almost the same color as the rose.
“Eh, you’ve been busy,” he said. He pushed the rose at her.
“Oh, you’re so sweet. Thank you.” She took the rose and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Passion, huh?” she asked. “Maybe I can think of an appropriate response for later on tonight.”
“You think?” He chuckled, but his black eyes gleamed.
“Yeah. I think.” She kissed him again. “Go shower. Dinner will be ready in a half hour.”
“Yes, ma’am, whatever you say.” He set down his lunchbox and headed for the bedroom. “The place looks great, by the way.”
Pinch me, she thought with a contented sigh. Then she went to set the table.
“How was work?” she asked over dinner.
“The usual. I tell you, there’s no end to the new apartment buildings going up all over LA. Pretty soon there won’t be any houses left except for the rich and famous.”
“Good for your job security, but bad for anyone trying to get anywhere in all the traffic,” she said. Sam worked construction, when he wasn’t talking to ghosts. “I just don’t think people were meant to live in such huge conglomerations. Makes ‘em crazy. Which reminds me. There was another dumpster murder last night.”
“Oh? That’s too bad. Same style?”
“Yes. Young woman, twenty-five, I think, her body cut up into pieces and dumped in a dumpster. This was near Echo Park.”
“That’s four, then,” Sam said. He frowned. “And still no suspects? No ‘persons of interest’?”
Lacey shook her head. “No. I’ll bet Captain Shaw is shitting bricks. The style is the same, but the locations and the backgrounds of the women are all totally different. One student at UCLA, one waitress, one real estate agent and now a secretary, I think. Nothing to establish any kind of link.”
Sam sighed heavily. “That’s a bad crazy out there.”
“Yes, it is. And the worst part is, with this spread all over the LA area, no one is safe. This guy could strike anywhere.” She blew out a breath. “I hated this kind of thing when I was on the force. There was nothing you could do to be proactive except warn people to stay off the streets alone at night. And you know that’s not going to happen.”
Sam ate silently for several minutes. Lacey let him be. It was certainly a sobering subject. She didn’t envy her former co-workers on the LAPD.
“Hey,” Sam said abruptly. Lacey looked up. “What would you think about calling the captain?”
“Calling... for what?” Her brows knitted in confusion.
“Ask him if we can help.”
Lacey set down her fork. “Help? As in picking up clues from the victims?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Do you think he would let us in?”
She tilted her head and considered that. “I don’t know. He might. Remember the Griffith Park case.”
“Yeah. They were up against a wall on that one, too.”
A slow grin spread across Lacey’s face. “You know, that just might be a very good idea. Sure, I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Good.” The single word put a satisfying end to the subject.
Lacey watched him return to his dinner, silent but thoughtful.
Maybe it was time for both of them to switch into cop mode.
~~~
TWO
The next morning, she waited until ten a.m. to call Shirley So, Captain Shaw’s assistant. Any overnight emergencies would have been dealt with and the office should be calm.
“Captain Shaw’s office,” the familiar voice answered.
“Shirley? It’s Lacey. How are you?”
“Lacey, hi. I’m fine, honey. How are you?”
“Doing good. But listen, Sam and I have been reading about the dumpster murders. I’d like to talk to the captain if I could for a few minutes.”
Shirley huffed out a breath. “Those things. My God, they’re awful. They’ve got us all scrambling.”
“I’m sure,” Lacey said. “What do you think? Could he give me five minutes?”
“He’s on another line right now. Can you hold? I’ll see how long he’ll be.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Okay; hang on.”
The line went silent but not dead. Lacey stared out the window at the gray February day. Winters weren’t much in LA, but cold enough for any native Angelino like her.
“Shaw.” The brusque voice broke into her reverie.
“Captain, it’s Lacey. I’d like to talk to you for just a minute. I know you’re busy.”
He let out a sigh. Lacey could imagine the large black man relaxing his shoulders for just a brief spell. “That’s about all I’ve got. What’s up, Lacey?”
She licked her lips. “Sam and I have been following the dumpster murders in the news. We’d like to help.”
There was no immediate response. In her mind’s eye, she could see him weighing the offer, considering the pros and cons.
“Is Sam… feeling anything?”
“I don’t believe so, not directly. But I’m pretty sure he thinks he might, if we could get near the crime scenes. It was his idea to call you.”
Shaw blew out a breath. “You know calling you guys in on this brings almost as much heartburn as help. Even if you two are rock stars now.”
Lacey smiled. He didn’t have to tell her he’d seen them on TV. And she understood completely.
“I know, sir. No PD wants it known they have to resort to psychics to solve their cases. We’d be discreet, I promise you.” She took a chance on a little nudge. “It’s just that four murders in a month, with no suspects… We thought you could use a little help.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he said in a low growl. “Let me think about it, Lacey. My guys are still sifting through the latest dumpster. This one was… messy. Let me get back to you.”
“Of course, sir. Anytime.”
“Okay.” She thought he might click off, but he hesitated. “Thanks, Lacey.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Goodbye.”
She tossed her phone aside and fired up her laptop. She’d read every word about the murders at the times they appeared in the news, but now re-read them with particular attention. Grabbing her notebook and a pen, she began to block out a timeline.
January 12 – 31-year-old waitress Joyce Augustine found in Silver Lake. Cause of death: stab wounds. Arms, legs and head severed from body.
January 28 – 19-year-old UCLA co-ed Stephanie Haise found in a dumpster in Westwood. Cause of death and condition of body the same.
February 7 – 28-year-old real estate agent Paloma Garcia found in Cahuenga. Ditto.
February 13 – 25-year-old administrative assistant Nikki Latrice found in Echo Park. Ditto.
In each case, the women had been out alone at night, disappeared, and were found a day or two later in pieces.
Lacey looked over the skimpy timeline. Different ages, different professions, different areas of town. The only common threads were they were all women and all brutally murdered. Stabbed to death, then cut up.
The perp—whoever he or she was—was one pissed-off wacko. Lacey had never been an expert profiler, but she knew stabbing deaths usually were indicative of rage. The body count alone spoke of a deep-seated, unresolved rage, very probably from childhood trauma. She would bet dollars to doughnuts that none of these women knew their attacker. They were all stand-ins for someone else.
And she would bet her last dollar that the killer was a man.
Lacey laughed humorlessly at herself. She was already kicking into cop mode, and she didn’t even know if they’d be allowed to get involved. But, she reasoned, even if Captain Shaw couldn’t bring them in officially, they could still do their own peripheral investigations. And in that vein, she knew she couldn’t share too much with Sam. He didn’t want his left brain cluttered up with too many facts before he went into a “walk” with his mediumistic feelers out.
She was just about to table the whole thing and turn her mind to something else when her phone rang.
Winston Brown, the screen read. The PR manager for the LAPD.
“Hey, Win. How you doing?” She took her phone and sat down to get comfortable.
“Don’t ask, Lacey. Living the nightmare right now.”
“Oh, I know. Sorry. I’m really hoping we can help you out.”
“Yeah, Captain told me. He’s willing to try it out, but with conditions.”
Lacey was not surprised. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
Win hesitated, perhaps checking notes, Lacey thought. As the top spokesman for the PD, the man was uber-cautious.
“First off, you’ll report to Tommy Belvedere.”
“Tommy?” she asked in surprise. “When did he switch from Vice to Homicide?”
“About six months ago. Captain needs to know if that will be an issue.”
Tommy had been instrumental in bringing the case against her ex-boyfriend, Derrick Nelson. Lacey knew Tommy did a boatload of guilt over ratting out a fellow officer, but she had no such qualms. Derrick was a criminal, whether he wore a badge or not.
“Absolutely not,” she said forcefully. “We’re good.”
“Okay. Point number two: you will not, under any circumstances, talk to the press. You will route all questions and inquiries to me. No exceptions.”
“You got it,” she said.
“And point number three: you will keep a low profile. No coming onto a crime scene like Rambo and busting the balls of the beat cops.”
Although slightly shocked at the implication, Lacey laughed. “No problem. Come on, Win. Have you ever known me to do that?”
There was no response.
“Well, okay, maybe once or twice,” she backpedaled. “But no, that will not be a problem. Sam and I will go into stealth mode.”
“Glad to hear it,” Win said. “We got enough on our hands without having to take flak for bringing in a psychic. And you know I mean no offense. I know what you and Sam can do, but…”
“Yeah, I know. Perception is everything. Don’t worry, Win. We’ll keep it low key.”
“Okay.” He let out a deep breath. “Final point: keep track of your time. I’ll have a standard contract drawn up. Now, we should be done with our investigation of the dumpster today, maybe tomorrow morning at the latest. Why don’t you two come out tomorrow about four p.m.? I’ll meet you there. Here’s the address…”
Lacey copied it down. “Got it,” she said. “I think you know the drill. Sam won’t want to hear about anything you found until after he walks.”
“Right. I’ll let my guys know.”
“Will Tommy be there?”
“He will if you want him to be.”
She thought about that. “Yeah, sure. He can meet Sam and we can set up the ground rules.”
“Consider it done.” Win hesitated, and Lacey imag
ined him making notes. “Okay, any questions?”
“Nope. Sounds good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, Lace. See you then.”
~~~
That evening, Lacey gave Sam the good news. “We’re in,” she said with a grin.
“Good,” Sam said. “We need to be.”
She watched him closely. “Are you picking up on it already?”
He frowned, his brow creased. “No, I don’t think so. But I do think this guy is a crazy. It feels… scattered. It feels just all over the place. Like the police may be having trouble picking up on a pattern because this guy isn’t rational enough to think in patterns.”
Lacey’s eyes widened. “Are you picking this up from him?” That would be a first.
He shrugged. “Lacey, I honestly don’t know. All I can tell you is what I feel. This just feels… completely out of control.”
“Okay.” She backed off. “Well, we’ll go tomorrow and see what we get. And then we’ll see where it leads.”
Sam nodded. He seemed content to leave it there, although Lacey thought she detected some distraction, as well. She wondered if his right brain was working overtime.
“One more thing,” he said finally.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s get a map tomorrow. A big one.”
~~~
THREE
Sam took off work a little early so he could come home and shower and change before they drove to Echo Park. His blue-black hair was pulled back in his usual ponytail, and he wore his soft suede moccasins, laced up to his knees over his black jeans. Lacey knew he was settling into ghost-walker mode even as she drove west toward Echo Park.
She was glad it was February. They drove past Dodger Stadium, quiet now for the winter, and she was grateful that the freeways were only ordinarily crowded and not bursting at the seams as during baseball season.
Sam navigated them to the address Win had given them. It was actually an alley that backed a J.C. Penney store on one side and assorted small businesses on the other. Crime tape still bounded the investigative area, and police cars blocked both ends of the alley. Lacey pulled up into a nearby parking lot and parked the car. The two of them walked to the yellow tape barrier and she hailed the cop who stood guard.
Blood Walk (A Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Book 8) Page 1