The Butterfly Murders

by Jen Talty

  Shane stood in front of the wall as everyone but Morrell and Kara filed out of the conference room.

  “Agent Martin,” Morrell said. “Can you give us a moment?”

  “Sure.” She stepped out into the hallway. When Shane turned to face his captain, Kara stood just outside the door, waiting.

  “How are you holding up?” Morrell asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We need to discuss the obvious conflict. Everyone in the office is painfully aware that Kevin could be a target if your theory is correct.”

  “And you’re worried I won’t stay focused,” Shane said.

  Morrell nodded.

  “You can’t pull me off this case.”

  “I’m not going to,” Morrell said. “For now. But I will if you give me a reason, or if anyone on that task force does.”

  Shane nodded. No use in arguing with the captain.

  “We’re putting a car on Kevin. Won’t be ‘round the clock, we don’t have the resources, but I’ll check with Kara as well.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “One more thing.” Morrell pointed to Kara. “She really was your girlfriend all through high school?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Shocked that a dumb jock like you could get a girl like that,” Morrell said.

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “I suppose,” Morrell said as he moved toward the door. “Good for you back then. Not a good idea now.” He stepped into the hallway and disappeared down the corridor.

  “What did he want?” Kara asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “Not much,” Shane said, letting his frustration out with his tone. “Next time, don’t go assigning people shit on my task force. You had no right.”

  “Would you have done it differently?”

  “Not the point.” He pushed one of the chairs into the table. “Not only did you take over, you did it in front of my boss.”

  “What are you really mad about? Because it certainly isn’t that.”

  “Really?” He glared at her. “Because of that he thinks I’m not focused. Considering taking me off.”

  She clicked the door closed and took a few steps toward him, resting her hands on the table. “Maybe you should take yourself off. No one would blame you.”

  “Screw you,” he said, turning his back. “I’m not stepping down. Kevin wouldn’t understand.”

  “Yes, he would,” Kara said.

  He laughed. “You’ve been around a couple of days, and you think you know my son? Please.”

  “That hurt.” Her fingers wrapped around his bicep with a gentle squeeze. “I know you, so tell me what this is all about.”

  “It’s Thursday. I hate briefings. The woman I’m sleeping with just hijacked my briefing. My boss thinks I’m screwing the FBI agent who is here helping.”

  “We all know you’re not Foster’s type.”

  He chuckled, but his mood turned serious again. “Morell is putting a car on Kevin, but it won’t be all the time. I can’t leave Theresa and Kevin alone at night.”

  “I agree,” she said. “So, let’s come up with a plan that works so you don’t have to drop lead and your son is safe.”

  “I texted Theresa and told her to go to my parents’ after she picks up Kevin, then come home when I get there.”

  “We can take our paperwork back to your place,” she said. “That’s why I wanted to make sure we got that task.”

  “I know.” He looked down at the hand still firmly around his bicep. “Not professional.”

  Chapter 22

  A CLICKING NOISE PULLED Shane from a light sleep. He stretched as he opened his eyes. Kara had propped herself against the headboard, sitting cross-legged, her laptop balancing on her knees. “What time is it?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  He pushed her laptop.

  “Hey,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to look up your skirt to see if you’re wearing that tiny little thong I took off you last night.”

  She smiled. “Nothing but skin under this skirt.”

  “That doesn’t help the morning hard-on.”

  “You really are insatiable.” She set her laptop on the nightstand.

  “I noticed a little landing strip growing back.”

  “Why do you like that so much?”

  He kissed her knee, sliding his finger up her thigh.

  “The very first time I saw you naked, that’s what you had. Kind of stuck with me.”

  Her laugh was cut short by Shane’s phone going off. “That can’t be good.” He rolled over, snagging his phone. “It’s Pollock. Hello?”

  “Double homicide,” Pollock said. “Two kids…”

  Shane jumped from the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a loud thud. He yanked up a pair of underwear and tossed Kara her duffle bag.

  “…both bound and naked. Candles,” Pollok continued.

  “Text me the address. We’ll be there as fast as we can. Did you call Jones?”

  “Next,” Pollock said. “What about the Feds?”

  “I’ll get a hold of Kara and Foster.” Shane ended the call and tossed the phone to the bed. “Call Foster. Double homicide.” Shane paused for a moment, taking a huge breath. “Two kids.”

  “Fuck,” Kara said.

  “I have to wake Theresa. Let her know I’m heading out.”

  “Maybe you should leave a note.”

  “No,” Shane said. “I promised Theresa I’d let her know if I ever had to leave before she woke up. Me telling her to go to my parents’ yesterday freaked her out.”

  “Probably a good thing,” Kara said. “She’ll be more aware of Kevin’s and her surroundings.”

  Shane grabbed a new shirt from the closet before opening the bedroom door, to find Kevin walking across the hallway. “What are you doing up?” He pulled the door shut.

  “Bathroom.” Kevin rubbed his eyes. “Why are you getting dressed when you obviously haven’t showered?”

  Shane ran a hand through his hair. “I have to go into work, so waking—”

  “I’m up.” Theresa stood in her doorway. “Been studying.”

  “You really need to sleep more,” Shane said. “And do something other than studying.”

  Theresa shrugged. “I’ll go make a breakfast sandwich for you to take.”

  “Make it two,” Shane said as Kara stepped from the master bedroom.

  “Will do.” Theresa headed down the stairs.

  “Morning, Kara.” Kevin scuffled his feet until he was close enough to give her a hug. “Dad said you have to go into work.”

  “We do.”

  Shane watched as Kara wrapped her arms around his son, then kissed the top of his head.

  “Is it really bad?” Kevin stepped back, looking up at Kara.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  Shane stared at the two most important people in his life in awe. Their bond had developed quickly, which did concern him on some levels. Part of the reason he hadn’t dated. Kevin missed his mother, and he craved that kind of connection.

  “Come on,” Kara said, looping her arm over Kevin’s shoulder. “Let’s go make a couple of coffees to go and wrap up those sandwiches.”

  Shane stood at the top of the stairs, watching Kara and Kevin as they carried on a conversation. After they disappeared into the living room, Shane snagged his tie and sport coat. No way was he letting Kara walk out of his life this time.

  * * *

  Kara stepped from Shane’s car in the parking lot of one of the town parks in front of a lodge, which was out of Shane’s jurisdiction; but at this point, it didn’t matter. The Sheriff’s office, the Rochester PD, and the Feds were all in bed together on this one. The sky brightened with the morning sun. A fresh layer of snow covered the ground. Kara pulled her coat tight and walked toward the police line, Foster giving her the evil eye. She showed her badge, signed the log, then stepped under the yellow tape. Shane did the same, bu
t he went straight inside the cabin.

  “Save the lecture,” Kara said to Foster as she watched Shane disappear into the lodge. “Tell me what we have.”

  “Two kids were reported missing last night,” Foster said.

  “From where?”

  “A support group for transplant patients.”

  “Christ,” she said. “How old?”

  “Both seventeen.”

  That explained why no Amber Alert went out. “Organs?”

  “Parents stated one had a pancreas transplant, the other had a lung transplant.”

  “What’s it like in there?”

  “Fresh,” Foster said. “Lots of blood.”

  Kara scanned the area, noting the CSI team working on a possible tire tread. “We haven’t had two victims at once before.”

  “We haven’t had an eye witness before either,” Foster said.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the word ‘witness.’ “To what, exactly?”

  “A park worker who noticed a small SUV, maybe a CRV or Tucson, something that size, parked next to the cabin.” Foster pointed toward the CSI truck. “Worker noticed flashes of light, so he went to the door and opened it. Said he saw a figure over one of the bodies. Next thing he knows our killer whacks him upside the head, knocking him out.”

  “Can he give us anything on the suspect? Height? Build? Eye color? Female? Anything.”

  “Didn’t think our perp was too tall. Maybe five-seven or eight, but he couldn’t be sure.”

  “Did you talk to the witness?” Kara blew into her hands and then rubbed them together.

  “I did,” Foster said. “He’s not in a very good head space after seeing those two bodies. It’s brutal.”

  “Guess I’d better go take a look.”

  Foster grabbed her arm before she took a step. “I’m not going to lecture you, but I am going to say my peace.”

  “Not the time or place.”

  “Just listen,” he said. “I don’t care you’re screwing him. I got no problem working with Jones, but I’m concerned you’re putting your career on the line and going to get your heart broke—”

  “Don’t go there.” She turned, looking Foster in the eye. “I might be riding a little too close, but I’m doing that so this case doesn’t derail if Shane…if something goes wrong, and if Kevin is a target, then consider me extra protection for both Kevin’s safety and Shane’s ability to do his job.” She poked Foster in the chest. “We’ve got a lead detective who is too close, but it’s not our call to pull him—”

  “I don’t want Shane to be pulled off. He’s a good detective and has valuable insight. I just want you to see what everyone will see, or already does see, and the impact it could have on your career.”

  “I can’t worry about that right now,” she said. “Until this killer is caught, I’m glued to Shane and Kevin. So back the fuck off.”

  Foster held up his hands. “I said my peace. Now let’s go inside.”

  The temperature was in the high teens, but Kara’s blood boiled. She took long strides across the parking lot, not caring if Foster was one step behind or not. Squaring her shoulders, she checked her emotions at the door as she stepped into the small cabin, her nostrils immediately assaulted with the smell of pumpkin, vanilla, and copper. She covered her mouth as some acid hit the back of her throat.

  A couple of quick flashes of light illuminated the dark room. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The CSI team had labeled evidence and was now cataloging them with the camera. The M.E. and his team were hovering over the two bodies. Jones was talking with a tech and Shane stood behind the M.E., his notebook in hand, his face pale.

  She took a couple of tentative steps forward, then looked left and right. Clothes were folded neatly and placed on the counter.

  “Hey Kara,” Jones said.

  “When Foster said fresh, he wasn’t kidding.”

  “M.E. said both victims haven’t been dead very long.”

  She focused her attention on the victim closest to the door. A blonde girl. Her blue eyes still open, but dull and lifeless. Her head turned toward the door. The victim’s hands were above her head, wrists bound with duct tape. Ankles crossed, and bound with duct tape as well. Kara stepped closer, pulling out her notepad. The victim had a large incision on her stomach, and some of her internal organs were piled on the floor in a pool of sticky blood.

  “M.E. said it’s probable that the victims were alive when our killer sliced into their bodies.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered. The second victim was presented in the same way. She was a redhead, and her eyes were thankfully closed. She had two long incisions on both sides of her body, starting from under the armpit and ending about twelve inches later. Kara pointed. “Lungs?”

  “M.E. hasn’t confirmed, but yeah, says that would be how to get to them. We’ve confirmed she had a lung transplant in the last six months. On a Thursday,” Jones said.

  “Pancreas for the other victim,” she said. “That leaves the thymus and the heart.” She lifted her gaze, studying Shane. He’d put his notebook away and was currently talking with one of the CSI team members. He stood tall, one hand stuffed in his pants pocket. His other hand twitched at his side, something he always did right before he strapped on his helmet before a ski race. To anyone who didn’t know him well, he looked calm.

  But his stiff, closed-off exterior told her otherwise.

  “There are two doors,” she said, pointing to the kitchen. “Which door did the witness come in?”

  “Front door,” Jones said, motioning behind him. “Witness says the killer was kneeling over, lighting a candle at the foot of one of the victims. He was so stunned and shocked, he said he couldn’t move. Next thing he knew, he’d woken up on the floor next to the victim. He ran out and then called the cops.”

  “How close was he to the victims?”

  “In their blood close,” Jones said as he pointed to the bloody hand- and footprints where the witness obviously scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door. “But according to the witness, the killer’s car was parked on the other side of the lodge, in a grouping of trees.”

  “Do we know how long the witness was unconscious?”

  “Based on the time he thought he pulled in and the time he called 9-1-1, it was twenty minutes,” Jones said. “Why wouldn’t our killer murder the witness?”

  “I’m guessing it’s some moral code or something. Only killing those who had a transplant.” Kara stepped carefully around an evidence marker and to the foot of one of the victims, Jones following. “All the other crime scenes, the killer cleaned up the blood, or at least tried before lighting the candles. Or even putting them down. Why are these different?”

  “And why two at the same time?” Jones added. “Feels rushed, doesn’t it?”

  “Something happened to our killer. Something that forced him to change his ritual.”

  “That’s not good,” Jones said.

  Shane nodded to Kara, and pointed to the kitchen.

  “Foster give you shit this morning?” Jones asked.

  She whipped her head around, glaring at Jones. “What do you know about that?”

  He held his hands up. “For what it’s worth, I think Shane needs someone with him all the time,” Jones said. “He was barely pulling it together after Janet died. Then Kevin’s health went downhill. The pressure of it all nearly broke him.”

  “How was his job performance during that time?” She swallowed the lump of guilt that formed her throat.

  “Had he not put himself on administrative duty when Janet died he would have been fired, but not because he wasn’t doing his job. His record is one of the best in the station. The problem was his anger, which made him a loose cannon to work with. Never knew what he was going to do next.”

  Kara figured outside of Shane’s family, Jones was the closest thing he had to a best friend. “Professionally, you know him better than I do.”

  “If you’re aski
ng me if I think he needs to step down from lead, I honestly don’t know. He’s been hyper-focused since he came back to work. Crossing every ‘t’, dotting every ‘i’. Even more so working with you, but this is a lot to take in.”

  “But he’s not angry, like he was back then?”

  “No,” Jones said. “But he is scared, and that can be just as bad.”

  Kara pulled out her phone and hit*3.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure we’ve got a car on Kevin and Theresa around the clock.”

  “He’ll never forgive you for going behind his back, or using resources on him when there are dozens of other kids in this town just like Kevin with a target on their back. Besides, we have a rotation.”

  “I’m willing to risk Shane hating me. I’ve lived through that. I’m not willing to let anything happen to his son.”

  * * *

  Shane stepped from the cabin, using the back door, careful not to disrupt a few evidence tags. The crisp morning air burned his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. He’d worked some nasty homicides in his day. He’d seen some gruesome crime scenes over the years. But nothing in his life could have prepared him for this one. He rounded the corner of the cabin and faced the woods, needing a short break from it all. The inch of snow they’d gotten overnight lined the tree branches, forcing them to sag.

  “Hey,” Kara’s voice echoed through the air. “Holding up okay?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. “What those two girls went through to get a transplant is hell. Surviving one, equally hard. And it’s a constant battle. Organ rejection can happen at any time. You learn to live with that fact. I know it’s very possible my son won’t outlive me. His life is never going to be normal.” He waved toward the cabin. “But to have all the possibilities of a future that you fought so hard to get, wiped out by a…it’s just senseless.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze on the snow-covered path leading to the hiking trails that surrounded the park. “How are you holding up?”

  “Not too well either,” she said. “This is one of the toughest cases I’ve ever worked, and I’ve been assigned some pretty crazy ones. But this one is exceptionally tough because there are now only two organs left to be collected, and your son—”