Devoted in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Detectives Peabody, Santiago, Carmichael, Deputy Banner.”

  After an exchange of nice-to-meet-you’s, Eve studied the nearly completed board. “Are you caught up?” she asked Carmichael and Santiago.

  “Peabody filled us in.” Santiago tapped Campbell’s photo. “We’ve got under two days to find her.”

  “Then let’s not waste time. Deputy, give what you have to Peabody. She’ll get it up. I’m going to run through what we’ve talked about for the others while we get the board finished. Melvin Little,” she began.

  She found herself pleasantly surprised when Mira came in. It meant pausing for more introductions, and a quick reprise.

  “Rough, steep trail like that?” Carmichael studied the images Banner had brought with him as they ran on screen. “He could’ve slipped off. I’m not saying he did,” she added. “I’m saying if you ran that probability, it would come in high.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it would – and did – but not if you knew Little Mel. I don’t care how messed up he was, he never set a foot wrong on a trail or a track.”

  “The cabin, the small amount of blood.” Mira crossed her legs, angled her head. “If, as the ruling determined, he had injured himself while rummaging through, there should have been more blood, not just a few drops in one location.”

  “Agreed,” Eve said. “Did your sweepers run the lights?”

  “Sweepers?”

  “Your crime scene people.”

  “Oh, yes, sir, they did. No sign there’d been blood cleaned up. And I can tell you, he wouldn’t’ve bothered.”

  “None of the stolen items were recovered?” Santiago asked.

  “There wasn’t much of real value taken. And not the sort of things that would raise a flag if you took them to a pawnshop or, hell, a flea market.”

  Mira folded her hands as she examined the image of the victim. “Your medical examiner ruled those burns as self-inflicted.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Either accidental or when he was high.”

  “I strongly disagree, and believe our own ME will also.”

  “I’m right pleased to hear that.”

  “Morris and DeWinter will get a shot at these remains, and the remains of the suspected victim found in West Virginia,” Eve said.

  “Your locals botched this one.” Santiago looked over at Banner. “The feebies, too. No offense.”

  “Not a bit taken.”

  “We speculate,” Eve began, “they worked as a team, had a routine on Little. Had the cabin, vacant at that time, he wandered in or by, they took him, used a tarp to catch blood and fluids, transported him to the high track, dumped him off and went on their way. The lack of the carved heart? They hadn’t started that flourish at this time. He was early on. Not the first, but early. So we work back from this point.”

  “A lot back from there.” Carmichael frowned. “What got them started, that’s going to be key. What set them off? If they’re lovers, and that’s how it reads, maybe somebody – a parent, authority figure, a spouse – trying to keep them apart. Or somebody moves on one of them, and it goes south from there. The first kill, whoever, wherever, whyever, it’s what sparked it.”

  She looked at Mira for confirmation.

  “In my opinion, yes. That’s the break, the ‘spark,’ if you will.”

  “I’ve got a few possibilities,” Banner told them. “Mostly I’ve been working forward from Little Mel, and beating my head against the FBI, but I’d started working back some. I’ve got three that are… well, just maybes right now.”

  “Let’s see them.”

  He looked at the unit Peabody used. “That’s a little more advanced than what I’ve worked with.”

  “I’ll get them up. Doc code?”

  “Ah, not a code so much. I filed them under MBM – Maybes Before Mel.”

  “On it. I’ve got a cousin who lives in the Ozarks,” Peabody said as she worked. “A little place outside of Pigeon Run.”

  “I know Pigeon Run. Pretty spot.”

  “It is. I haven’t been there since I was about sixteen, but I remember. She and her man and their boys run a farmer’s market co-op.”

  “Lydia Bench and Garth Foxx?”

  Surprised, Peabody glanced around. “Well, yeah. You know them?”

  “A little. My sister more. She hauls harvests down to them, and hauls stuff back at least once a month. It’s a small world no matter how big it gets.”

  “Let’s keep the world focused on murder for now,” Eve suggested. “Get the data up, Peabody.”

  “It’s coming.”

  “This here’s the first.” Banner nodded toward the screen as the name and ID shot scrolled on. “Vickie Lynn Simon. A licensed companion, worked out of Tulsa mostly. Her body was found on a farm road about ten miles out of the city. Beaten and stabbed. Overkill, they called it.”

  “That was closed yesterday,” Eve told him. “You were probably on your way here. They tied a second vic to it, and tracked down the killer. It looks solid, and the second vic was killed last week. This isn’t ours.”

  “Then I’ve only got two maybes. This one, Marc Rossini, owned a restaurant in Little Rock. Beaten, stabbed, burned. Right inside the restaurant, after closing. Busted the place up, too.”

  “I looked at that one,” Eve remembered. “We can leave it as a maybe, look deeper, but it doesn’t ring for me. Rossini had a gambling problem, and owed a couple hundred K. Reads like enforcement that went too far.”

  “One more, then. Robert Jansen. Beaten – defensive wounds on this one. Head caved in – likely by a tire iron. Broken leg, blows to his back, face. Defensive wound on his hands, arms. His body was found off the road, in some high brush off Highway 12, some south of Bentonville. They figured he’d been dead about a week before some kid needed to pee, and his mama pulled over, took him into the brush. Likely scarred that boy for life. The animals had been at the body by then.”

  “That’s one of mine,” Eve said, gaze sharpening. “I’d just started looking at this one. It fits the route. Business trip, right? Guy’s on a business trip, and driving from Fort Smith to Bentonville in a rental car. Car’s never turned up.”

  “No, ma’am.” Banner caught Santiago’s smothered laugh. “Sir, that is. FBI dismissed this one out of hand. No signs of torture. It reads like maybe he had car trouble, or he stopped – maybe to pee or to give somebody a hand. That somebody went at him, he fought back, and got a tire iron to the back of the head and across the face for his trouble.”

  “Took his vehicle, wanted the vehicle.” That was the play as Eve saw it. “Where’s their vehicle?”

  “Didn’t find any. I checked, and none of the towing companies picked one up. None of the local law enforcement has a report on any abandoneds in that area.”

  “Could’ve been on foot, but I don’t much like it. One could’ve driven each vehicle, then they’d sell one. Opportunity.” Eve began to pace. “Get him to stop. Seasoned business traveler, why does he stop on some bumfuck road?”

  “A skirt,” Santiago offered.

  “Yeah, most likely. Having some trouble, honey? Why, yes, I am. Thank you so much for stopping. It’s dark and scary out here. Partner moves in. Looks like a slam dunk, right? Maybe even something they’ve done before. Just boosting a ride, but this guy does some damage. Maybe he goes after the woman, and the partner bashes him. Maybe he’s getting the best of the partner, and the woman grabs the tire iron and whales in. Oh-oh, look at that. Dead guy, or seriously hurt guy. What to do.”

  “Drag him into the bushes,” Peabody finished, “and get the hell out of there.”

  “Then, look what we did, together. Wasn’t that exciting? Wasn’t that a rush?”

  Oh, it played, Eve thought as it ran through her head. It played like a big, fat violin at the opera – and just as tragically.

  “His blood’s on them. Bashing heads will do that. The smell of it, the feel of it, the look of it, all warm and red and wet. It just gets them going.”

&
nbsp; “Together.” Mira nodded. “It cements their relationship, takes it to this new level. He – the victim – becomes the enemy they defeated for each other. And sex is a reward. It then becomes a goal. And it requires more. More time, experimentation. This, if this was the first, or at least one of theirs, was quick and brutal, and not necessarily premeditation.”

  “Jansen was their happy accident,” Eve said. “So they think, What if we planned it out, what if we set it up and did it again, knowing how it’s going to make us feel? It works for me.”

  “Just like that.” Banner looked around with a kind of wonder.

  “No, not just like that. Santiago, Carmichael, you’re going to – Where the hell is this?”

  “Closest would be Monroe, Arkansas, not far from the Oklahoma border.”

  “You’re going there.”

  “Yee-haw,” Santiago said.

  “Dig into it. At some point there was a second vehicle. Find it. Peabody, do a full run on this vic, talk to his people, get a good sense of him – and pull all salient reports and files. He could be the first, it works. They didn’t really mean it, but it felt so damn good. Mel Little, look at the route. He could’ve been the next – more planned out. Not refined yet, but more planned. Maybe we’ll find another between, but not more than one. Oklahoma?”

  She signaled for Peabody to bring up the map. “If this is the first, they probably came from Oklahoma. Maybe that’s their origin – it’s likely, it’s logical. We’re going to do an IRCCA search on stolen or highjacked vehicles moving back. Maybe they started out stealing cars, using a network to strip them, chop them, sell them. Working the back roads, the small towns. This area – they’d need to be familiar with the area for that. So Oklahoma’s where we start. Grab some gear,” she told Santiago and Carmichael. “I’ll get you a shuttle, and a vehicle at destination.”

  “Road trip.” Carmichael pushed up, pumped a fist. “I drive first.”

  “Damn it.”

  Ignoring them, Eve pulled out her ’link, wandered a few paces off. Clock’s ticking on Jayla Campbell, she reminded herself. She’d use whatever resources she had to save time.

  She’d thought to tag Roarke’s brilliantly efficient admin, Caro, but his face slid onto her screen.

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Hey. I need a favor.”

  “Didn’t I just receive payment for one of those?”

  “Let’s start fresh. I need a shuttle, fast.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re not. Santiago and Carmichael are going to Arkansas. We’ve got a lead. I need them there as fast as possible, with a vehicle – nothing fancy – waiting for them on the other end.”

  “I can do that. I’ll have Caro send you the appropriate data.”

  “Thanks. I can squeeze the standard fees out of the budget.”

  “I prefer other methods of payment. Have you found their first victim, as hoped?”

  “It looks good for it.”

  “Then I’ll get this ordered. Caro will pass on the docs and numbers. And I’ll take my fee later.”

  “Ha ha.” She clicked off. “Shuttle in the works,” she told the room, and kept going. “I’m going to clear the paperwork. Carmichael, Santiago, get that gear and be ready to move. Peabody, look after Banner. Mira, I could use a quick meet before you leave for the day.”

  So saying, she strode out.

  Banner let out a long, long breath. “Does everything always move so fast around here? Does she always move so fast?”

  Peabody considered, smiled. “Pretty much.”

  11

  Mira poked her head in Eve’s office. “I’ve got about ten minutes before I have to start a session.”

  “Great.” Eve swiveled around from her desk. “We’ve got two days – some under that now – but you’d agree that’s the pattern.”

  “It’s unlikely they’d shorten the time. There could be unforeseen events that would shorten it, but the torture is the thrill, and the bond. The killing is necessary, the end goal and the final release, but prolonging it sweetens that release.”

  “They need a place.”

  “Yes. Private.”

  “I’d lean toward a private home, or a building with low security. So far the abandons and vacants haven’t panned out. Not a flop – not private enough. Not a hotel, and they just don’t strike as the type that can afford to rent a nice roomy brownstone. Anything like that, they’d need to pass some sort of security check first, have the damage deposit. A basement unit, maybe, in a low- to mid-level building. Or… they snagged somebody who already had what they wanted.”

  “You think there might be another victim?”

  “The timing’s tight, but they have to have a place. So either they set it up on their way here, hit on one pretty much right after they got here. Or they scoped somebody, along the route, in New Jersey maybe, or locked one in after they arrived. If that’s how they’ve worked it, they took some care disposing of the body, or kept the vic alive so we can’t track them through the vic.

  “My question. Are they smart enough for that? Smart enough to plan that out, to case a location, a building, and grab a vic who could give them access?”

  “Yes, I think so. They’ve had months on this spree. If, as you believe, New York was the destination, they’d plan. They’ve gotten better at their hobby. It’s not a mission,” Mira said when Eve lifted her eyebrows at the term. “It’s not their life’s work. It’s entertainment for them, and that bonding.”

  “People get tired of hobbies, and give them up.”

  “Yes, they do, and, yes, at some point they may. Right now, it’s much too exciting, and they’ve had success. Factor in we believe this is a couple, romantically and sexually, as well as a killing unit. Couples have… spats, disagreements. They fall out of love. If that happens…”

  “They could turn on each other,” Eve speculated. “Or separate. We have to hope they stick. Separating or one doing the other? That changes the pattern, and it would change the MO.”

  “As long as they’re bonded, as long as they love, they’ll not only work as a unit, they’ll protect each other. If/when you find them, they’re still bonded, it’s possible – probable – they’ll die together rather than allow themselves to be taken – and separated.”

  “Yeah, I’ve already considered the suicide-by-cop angle. Catching them comes first, not giving them the satisfaction of going out together in a fucking carved heart is next on the list.”

  She pushed up, paced. “What’s your impression of Banner?”

  “Committed to this, a little wide-eyed, but solid. I suspect he’s taken a lot of rejection – the FBI, other law enforcement – through his investigation. He hasn’t given up, and giving up, putting it aside, would’ve been easier.”

  Eve nodded as she moved around the room. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who’d go rogue. If he did, I’d cut him loose. Okay, thanks.”

  She dropped down in the chair again, looked over at her board. “She’s in pain, and she’s scared. ‘Why is this happening to me?’ That’s what keeps going through her head. She wants to see her family and friends again. She wants it to stop, just stop. If we find out anything from Arkansas, if I can work the location – because it has to be downtown – and if she’s tough enough to hold on, we’ve got a chance of getting her out of this.”

  “If there’s anything else I can do, you’ve only to let me know.”

  Eve shifted around. “When the remains get here from the two vics we’ve got coming in, it would help if you either worked it with DeWinter and Morris or reviewed their reports. The shrink angle’s an angle. I don’t want to miss any of them.”

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Alone, Eve set up another missing-persons run looking for any individual or individuals reported missing since the previous August with a residence or business in New York.

  When her ’link signaled she noted Garnet DeWinter’s readout, answered.

&n
bsp; “Dallas.”

  “You might have asked.”

  “Asked what?”

  “If I had the time to examine and report on two sets of exhumed remains. It may be you don’t fully understand what we do here, or the fact I currently have on my table bones from two subjects recently discovered buried in concrete footings after the demolition of a building.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Approximately one hundred and twenty years.”

  “Then they can probably fucking wait. Jayla Campbell,” she snapped and turned so the ’link showed the board and Campbell’s photo. “She has maybe thirty-six hours – with luck – before the two lunatic lovers who are currently torturing her end it by slicing her across the belly from hip to hip and letting her bleed out, probably while they have hot sex.”

  The insult on DeWinter’s striking, sharp-featured face faded. On a sigh, she ran a hand over her sleek-for-work hair. “You might have given me some background.”

  “I’m in a little bit of a hurry considering Campbell is only the last of at least twenty-one confirmed victims. And I have four more probables, including the remains heading your way.”

  “If you’d given me some background, I might have been able to use some influence to get the remains here quicker.”

  “How?”

  DeWinter aimed a cool look out of sharp green eyes. “I have connections, and ways to use them. Which I’ll be doing right now. I’ll need a full report on this investigation, the profiling, and the previous victims.”

  “I sent it to you about fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Oh.” This time DeWinter huffed out a breath. “We really need to learn how to communicate better.”

  “Right. I’ll get on that.”

  “If you do, I will.”

  Eve struggled back an impatient retort, mainly because DeWinter had a point. “Fine. Review what I sent you. Any questions, tag me. Morris will be working with you, and Mira’s going to make the time. I need to know everything I can know about the two vics. The feds don’t group them in with this. I do. Prove me right.”

  “I prove you right, you buy me a drink.”

  “Sure, whatever. I’m pressed here.”