Jamie Hill Triple Threat (A Cop In The Family)

by Jamie Hill

  Mel watched him flash his badge and begin speaking with the obviously distraught woman.

  Stone pulled out his camera but stood looking at Mel. "So, how was your weekend?"

  "Typical. Slept a lot. Same old, same old."

  "What did Agent Serious do all weekend?"

  She threw up her hands. "How would I know? Probably stared at the crime scene photos and reports until he turned blue in the face."

  He smiled and began snapping photos. "Yeah, probably. So this one isn't a prostitute. Everything else matches the MO."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mel saw Juanita Richards being comforted by a new arrival. They said a few more words to Nate, then the older black woman whisked Juanita to her car and away.

  Nate paused long enough to make a phone call before joining them again.

  Mel leaned down to scrutinize the cheerleading uniform. Through the deep crimson blood she spotted the small cardinal patch. "What is it with this guy and cardinals?"

  "Following our theory from the other day, if the perp was scorned by cheerleaders in high school, maybe their mascot was a cardinal."

  "Or maybe those are the only uniforms he had access to," Nate offered as he approached.

  From her crouched position, Mel looked up at him. "You really think it's that random? I thought you people believed that every detail has meaning."

  He touched his chest. "You people? If I was black, I'd be really offended right now."

  She stood and brushed alley dust off the sides of her slacks. "If you were black I wouldn't have said it. No, I was referring to a more injurious race. FBI agents." She screwed up her face as if she'd mentioned something disgusting.

  His eyes danced but he didn't crack a smile. "Not much more injurious than pain-in-the-ass cops. Are you going to question everything I say today, or only the really profound comments?"

  Mel shrugged. "We'll see. Now if I recall, you were going to ask your 'crackerjack analysts' to research cardinal mascots from the seventies. Any word on that?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes. We'll discuss all their findings when we get back to the war room."

  Glancing around the alley, Mel spotted Martin and Zybowski approaching. "CSI is here."

  "Great," Stone muttered and hurriedly snapped a few more photos.

  "Stone!" Zybowski called from halfway across the alley. "Still jockeying for a position on our team? Give it up, man. You have to be at least this tall to go on this ride." He raised his hand to chest height.

  "Son-of-a-bitch," Mel whispered.

  Nate frowned. "Take as many pictures as you can in the next couple minutes, Henry, then call it good. We'll get more from your shots now than we will from theirs in four or five hours." He looked at Mel. "I'll handle these guys."

  She raised her eyebrows and nodded, interested to see what he was going to do.

  Nate met the two men a few feet away. "CSI? I'm SSA Willis of the FBI. I presume you heard we were invited in on the case."

  "Agent Willis, good to know you." Martin, looking dutifully impressed, extended a hand. "Investigator Aaron Martin."

  "Joe Zybowski." He also extended his hand and Nate shook it.

  "It's a real honor to meet you both. I've heard great things about you. The work you've done on this case has been top-notch."

  "Well, thanks." Zybowski appeared surprised.

  "Oh yeah." Nate grinned and shook his head. "Once this case is solved, I wouldn't be surprised to hear the Bureau has snatched you up. We're always in the market for a few good men."

  "Really?" Martin straightened his tie. "This has been a gruesome one, but we're doing all we can to help you out."

  "And we do appreciate it." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "A word to the wise. Be nice to Stone over there. When the job offers are handed out, he might be running the new team we're putting together. If you guys want in on it, you could very well be working for him."

  Both men blinked in surprise.

  Nate closed his eyes and gave a deep nod.

  "Yeah, well, thanks." Martin glanced at Stone.

  "We'd better get to work." Zybowski headed toward the body. "Hey Curtis. How's it going Stone? Anything special you want us to focus in on this one?"

  Stone slipped his camera into his pocket. "Just the usual. Thanks, boys." He turned and walked away.

  Mel added, "Any chance we can get your findings tout suite?"

  "Absolutely. We'll get them to you as soon as possible," Martin said cooperatively.

  She smiled and repeated Stone's words. "Thanks, boys." With a sharp glance at Nate, she turned and followed her partner.

  "See you soon," Nate told the CSI team, and caught up to Mel.

  She and Stone were barely holding back their laughter.

  "What team would that be?" Stone whispered.

  "The chess team?" Mel offered.

  "Maybe," Nate chuckled. "Just giving them something to think about. You know, when the Bureau is invited in on a case, we have to be careful not to step on any local toes. Sometimes that's tougher than others. When I run into people like those two, I'd really love to put them in their place."

  Mel smirked. "In lieu of that, you lie to them."

  "Whatever." Nate glanced over his shoulder. "Guys like that suck. Can't stand to be around them."

  Henry offered Nate a small salute. "That makes three of us. See you at the station." He climbed into his Volt and drove away.

  Mel walked Nate to his car. "You know, I could kiss you right about now, but that wouldn't be the prudent thing to do."

  He smiled. "Prudent, no. Sexy as hell, yeah. Can I take a rain check? Maybe later tonight?"

  "Count on it. Follow me to the cop shop?"

  "I'm going to stop for coffees. I'll make my way there." He slid into his vehicle.

  She batted her eyes. "Stone and I drink lattes if anyone is asking."

  He bowed his head. "Lattes it is. See you in a few."

  She watched him drive off in the completely wrong direction and had to smile. Hope he finds his way back. She was starting to hope a lot of things where Nathan Willis was concerned, but she refused to let herself think about them. Work first. Mel sighed, and pulled out onto the street.

  At the department, Stone was uploading photos to his computer when she arrived. She'd barely gotten in the door when Reeder summoned her. She entered his office and he let loose.

  "Another dead hooker?" His voice boomed.

  Mel shook her head. "This one's a waitress. Rest of the details are the same."

  His face reddened and he shook as he spoke. "We have some hot shot from the FBI here and this happens right under his nose? What was he doing? What were you doing all weekend? I thought I authorized overtime for you and your team. Instead I hear you all went out drinking Friday night."

  She tried to determine if Reeder knew any more about her and Nate. She really didn't think he did. He was just frustrated with the responsibility of the case falling on his shoulders. "It was the usual Friday night crowd at Morgan's, Captain. Someone invited Agent Willis along to be polite. We worked Saturday, but no one can work 24/7. The team needed a break. Willis took the case files with him to study over the weekend. We have several theories to check out today."

  The explanation didn't calm his demeanor. Spittle flew as he shouted, "I'm sure our latest victim understands that your team needed a break. I hope you're all well-rested. We need to put a lid on this thing, now."

  "I agree. With your permission, I'd like to call in Brady Marshall from Special Investigations. Willis thinks he might be able to offer some insight."

  Reeder waved a hand and stomped back to his chair. "Marshall's on his way. Find this guy, damn it, Curtis. Pressure's coming down from all sides. The media is going nuts. We don't want another BTK on our hands. The shit from that one went national."

  "Yes sir." She knew Reeder was one of the few cops left in the department who'd been around when the self-proclaimed 'Bind, Torture and Kill' nutcase started his spree i
n the seventies. Her father was on the job then as well. Most of the current force remembered the media feeding frenzy when Dennis Rader reappeared a few years ago and was eventually apprehended. No one, especially Mel, wanted a replay of that ugly scenario.

  Reeder washed back a couple of aspirin with a swig of coffee and grimaced. He shook a handful of antacids into his palm and popped them one at a time. "I mean it, Curtis," he mumbled as he chewed. "Your ass is grass if we don't see some results on this thing soon. Don't make me reconsider your detective status."

  "No sir. I mean, yes sir." She retreated from the office and noticed everyone in the bullpen watching her. Their captain's shouting rarely went unnoticed. Mel felt her face heat and knew it'd flushed a deep shade of red. She hoped to slip into the ladies room and take a minute to compose herself before Nate arrived. She took a few steps, spun around and nearly ran him over.

  "Hey." He held a four-cup drink carrier with a fifth steaming cup sticking up in the middle.

  She tried to deflect his sympathetic gaze. "If one of those is for Reeder, this might not be the best time."

  "I heard. Sorry he did that, Mel. If he's pissed at me he should take it out on me. As you can imagine, that rarely happens."

  She shook her head. "It's my case, but he's the one catching the shit at the moment." She felt tears threaten which totally pissed her off. She sniffed and looked at the coffee again. "Last time I counted we had four on our team."

  Nate started to reply when someone entered the room.

  "Greetings, homicide peeps." Brady Marshall knocked knuckles with Stone and a few others as he passed them. He got almost to Mel when he paused and grinned. "As I live and breathe, is that Melanie Curtis with blonde hair?"

  "Light brown," she corrected, and let him envelop her in a bear hug. "And shut up about it. It's not that different."

  Brady chuckled as he hugged her. "It's totally different, and I like it. You still got it, Black Widow."

  Her tears were free-flowing now, and she hated to leave his comforting grasp. She drew back and immediately turned her face away. "And you're still full of shit you big dummy. You better have baby pictures on you. I need to use the john. I'll be right back. Willis, introduce yourself." She couldn't get away fast enough.

  * * * *

  Nate watched Mel run off and his gut clenched. It hurt like hell that he couldn't go after her. He'd seen the tight grip she'd had on the tall, good-looking man just moments before. I want to be the one holding her, comforting her. Somehow, he'd find a way to make it up to her.

  He turned his attention to the newcomer who was obviously Brady Marshall. About his height with a similar frame size, Nate couldn't help but wonder if Marshall and Mel ever had a relationship. A niggling thought in his mind reminded him of the work at hand and Nate forced himself to focus. "Marshall? I'm Nate Willis with the FBI. We spoke on the phone earlier."

  Marshall started to extend a hand to shake then obviously realized Nate's hands were full. He smiled. "I'm Brady Marshall. Good to meet you."

  Nate nodded toward the war room. "Let's go in here." He raised his voice and called, "Stone, bring the latest photos when you get them please."

  "Right behind you," Stone replied.

  Nate entered the small room and flipped the light switch with his elbow. He set the drink carrier on the table and removed the coffees one at a time. "Hope a latte is okay. Mel insisted."

  Marshall chuckled. "A latte is fine, thanks. Speaking of Mel, what's up with her? She looked upset."

  Stone joined them, tacking one photo of Sissy Warsaw on the bulletin board and setting others on the table. He reached for one of the cups and punched the drink spout. "Captain Tactful just reamed her ass in front of the whole department. Threatened her rank if he didn't see some results on this case very soon."

  Marshall picked up a cup and shook his head. "Reeder's a dick. He was a dick back in the days when Jack still worked here, and apparently nothing's changed."

  Nate sipped his drink. "Who's Jack?"

  "Former cop buddy of mine. Worked in homicide for ages—how many years, Stone?"

  "Who can remember? A long time."

  Marshall smiled. "He wised up, found himself a good woman and a less taxing line of work. They adopted a of couple kids and had a couple more of their own."

  "Oh, Jack?" Mel perked up as she came in to the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed but the expression on her face warned all the men present that they better not mention it. "How is he doing? How's the new baby?"

  Marshall's grin widened. "Jack's on the top of the world. Scotty's doing great. Pudgy little chow hound. Two months younger than the girls and almost as big as them."

  Mel held out her hand and snapped her fingers. "Don't try to tell me you don't have pictures because I know you do."

  He pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket and started scrolling through it. "Are you kidding? My phone has a mega-sized memory card. We could stand here all day looking at pictures." He settled on one and handed Mel the phone.

  "Aw, look at them!" She held the phone so Nate could see the two little dark-haired babies. Both had wild, unruly hair, and he had to admit, pretty damned cute expressions on their faces. "Brady and his wife had twin daughters, what, four months ago?"

  "Four and a half," he corrected.

  Mel smiled at Nate, and he had to grin. Only a new parent would care about that extra half month. Saps, the whole lot of them. He bit his tongue and continued to smile pleasantly.

  Marshall advanced the frame to another photo. "This is Carina, and that's Daniela. We call them Cari and Dani."

  Oh my God. Nate bit his tongue again.

  "Too cute!" Mel passed the phone to Stone so he could get in on the gushing.

  "Thanks." Brady beamed. "But I know you didn't call me here to look at my daughters."

  Mel cocked a brow at him. "Who did call you here? When I asked the captain if I could bring you in he said you were on the way."

  "Willis and I spoke this morning. Didn't he tell you?"

  She looked at Nate. "No, he didn't. No problem, I planned to call you today anyway. We were wondering if you could give us any insight into these women. You know a lot of them. You know the Oldtown neighborhood."

  They sat and passed the latest photos around. "This one was a waitress at Daily Joe," Mel offered. "Everything else was the same as the others. Cheerleader uniform from the seventies era, cardinal mascot on the vest, red pom poms in the hands, bodies all posed just the same."

  "Throat slashed from ear to ear," Marshall added.

  Nate studied the latest victim. I'm missing something. He tapped that particular photo on the table but didn't pass it on.

  "Any significance to the cardinal?" Marshall asked.

  "I got that." Nate pulled out his phone and found the information his analyst had sent. "Two Wichita schools in the seventies had cardinals as their mascots. St. John's and Bayside Academy. Bayside was a Lutheran school with no sports teams, so they wouldn't have had cheerleaders."

  "Which leaves us St. John's," Stone said. "I'm not familiar with it."

  "Because it doesn't exist anymore." Nate read from his phone. "The school closed in 1984 and the building was dozed to make way for a strip mall with lots of parking and a fancy seafood restaurant."

  "Gotta love seafood." Marshall stood and paced in front of the bulletin board, studying the photos and evidence. "So run the timeframe for me again."

  Mel read from her notes. "Rhonda Jensen, forty-four, found two weeks ago on a Sunday morning."

  Marshall turned to the map. "Where at?"

  Stone rose and pointed to the map tacks. "Red indicates location of the body. Blue is last known whereabouts."

  Marshall nodded.

  Mel continued, "Victim number two, Donna Leonard, forty-nine. Found one week ago on a Saturday morning. Number three was Linda Mains age fifty-two, body discovered last Friday morning."

  Nate piped up. "Sissy Warsaw was forty-eight and her body was discov
ered today, Monday." He glanced at Mel and they both looked at Marshall then Stone.

  All four murmured the same words at the same time. "He's escalating."

  "Damn it!" Nate slammed the photo in his hand down and pounded the table.

  Samantha Becker poked her head in the door. "Detective Marshall, there's a call for you out here on line three. It's your captain."

  "Thanks." Brady smiled at Mel as he passed her, pausing just long enough to tug on her ponytail. "Really do like the locks, kiddo. Brightens up your face."

  "I can use that." She smiled and exhaled a long sigh.

  Something in Nate's mind clicked. His gaze darted to the bulletin board from one photo to the next. At the end of the line, he snapped his fingers. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

  "What?" Mel and Stone both stared at him.

  He spotted Marshall returning and waited for him. "Everything okay?" He really hoped the other detective didn't have to leave.

  "Fine." Marshall waved a hand. "Captain just had a question for me and didn't have his cell so he could call mine." He rolled his eyes at Mel. "Forrest ranks right up there with Reeder sometimes."

  "Or down there, as the case may be," she muttered.

  "Okay, okay, listen to this." Nate couldn't wait any longer. "I've been trying to put my finger on something this whole time, and it suddenly just clicked. Something all these women have in common. Look at their hair."

  All eyes turned to the bulletin board. Mel spoke first. "One red-head, two brunettes and a badly bleached blonde."

  "Therein lies the connection. All four of them have artificially colored hair. Same with the two gals we talked to Friday. The Juicy Fruit chick and what was her name, Sheila? Both had bleached or colored hair."

  Mel looked at Marshall. "Skinny Sheila sends her regards, by the way. Says if you get tired of all the family togetherness to look her up. She'll give you a special rate."

  Marshall laughed. "Shelia's a good girl. Usually knows a bit more than she lets on, too."

  Frustration churned in Nate's gut. "Stay with me here, people! These are street folks. Homeless or living in shelters, with no idea where the next meal is coming from. Explain to me how they can afford to have their hair done?"