Mick rolled to his back, catching his breath. Hard living was catching up with him. He usually hadn’t even broken a sweat at this point in his run.
“Misinformation,” he assured them, “to fool the killer.”
“Figured as much,” Brady said doubtfully.
Yeah, right. “Any reporters hanging around?”
“A bunch last night. Neighbor dude ran them off.”
“Roger?” The sneaky little man who’d called the cops on him and Caro. “How?”
“Threatened to shoot them for trespassing. Got out his shotgun an’ everything.”
“Maybe you should look over his background check again,” Denny suggested.
Mick pretended to consider, out of politeness. “The guy’s a weasel. But I doubt he’s our man. Doesn’t fit the profile.”
“No harm in a closer look.”
“Good point. So, how many plates you get tonight?”
“Nine or ten,” Brady said. “More’n usual.”
“Same with the others,” Mick said. “Must be because it was a Friday night.”
“Maybe we’ll get the right one today,” Denny said.
“God willin’,” Brady said. “We need to catch this fucker soon.”
“We will,” Mick said with authority. “Listen, send the list of plates to Bobby, okay?”
“Why not you?”
He opened the door. Jetted out a breath. “There’s probably going to be some reorganization on the task force this morning.”
With that, he jogged off before they could ask any more questions. He headed for his next stop and then up Mountain Ave to the main leg of his run, down the Arroyo and through the Rose Bowl, where he could work off some of the nails and acid churning in his stomach.
Today was going to be one bad-ass bitch of a day.
The perfect climax to a lifetime of bad-ass bitch days.
He ground his jaw, picked up speed.
And if it was really, really bad, he might even live through it.
Chapter 23
“Madre Dios! Querida!”
Caro heard the exclamation from far, far away. Slowly she came to consciousness, felt gentle hands on her wrists, her throat, seeking... seeking... a pulse?
“Julio?” She opened her eyes. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around, expecting to see her own room. “Where—” Ah, yes. “Where’s Mick?”
“Guadalajara by now, if he’s smart,” Julio seethed. “I can’t believe— He’s not going to get away with this. I’m sorry, Caro, this time he’s gone too far.”
Damn, Julio was serious. She dragged her thoughts from where Mick might be, to focus on her partner. Former partner. Whatever. “What are you talking about? If you mean this place, I can ex—”
“The place is bad enough,” he interrupted. “But look at you! My God, Caroline, just look at yourself, at what he’s done to you!”
“What?”
She raised her head off the pillow and glanced down at her body, trying to remember. Instantly she realized what he meant.
She really couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Okay, it’s a bit theatrical I’ll admit, but—”
“Don’t you dare dismiss this, Caroline Palmer! It’s sick, it’s perverted, it’s...sick. He deliberately sent me here, wanting me to think you were dead!”
“Julio, calm down. Please.”
“Don’t you tell me to calm down, chica. He arranged you in exactly the same way as the Teddie victims! Same outfit, same pose, same...makeup. There’s even a chair at the end of the frigging bed!” Julio’s horrified gaze caught sight of the orange scarves dangling from the bedposts. “Jesús! You let him tie you up?”
“For a minute or two.” She definitely wasn’t about to elaborate. Julio would go postal. “Jul, trust me, he’s just trying to get into the killer’s head.”
“He’s over the edge, querida. After what he made you do yesterday— I don’t care what you say, I’m reporting this to Internal Affairs. For your own good. The man’s a psycho. He should be put away.”
IAB? Hell. “I told you. He didn’t make me do anything.” She regarded her partner calmly, seeing a new bloom of bruises on his beautiful olive-skinned face. “And at least Mick doesn’t hit me.”
Julio snapped back as though she had. “Tell that to the jury after he strangles you!”
“Don’t be silly. He’s not going to strangle me.”
“I’ll have you know, there’s a rumor going around the station this morning. That the Teddie Killer is a cop.”
“Why would they say that?”
“The way he’s eluding us. The fact there’s never any evidence.”
“He might just watch the Discovery Channel,” she said wryly. Everyone was a forensics expert these days thanks to cable.
“They found fingerprints, Caro.”
She sat up. “You’re kidding.”
“I’ll give you one guess whose.”
Shock slammed into her momentarily. “Mick’s? I don’t believe it. Where?”
“At yesterday’s crime scene.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Big surprise there. He was all over the place as lead detective! Hell, he probably just picked something up.”
“Wasn’t he wearing gloves?”
“Of course.”
“Shoots that little theory, doesn’t it?”
She thought back. Yes, they’d both put on gloves outside the apartment, as soon as they’d arrived from his place.
“Maybe he took them off for some reason.”
But she knew he hadn’t. Why would he?
Damn. What the hell was going on?
“There’s a perfectly plausible explanation,” she insisted, climbing out of bed.
“Yeah,” Julio said. “There is. Mick McGraw is the Teddie Killer.”
***
Caro indulged her former partner as he spun out his absurd theory in detail on the drive to her place to change into her work clothes, and then to the station. On the surface, he made a pretty convincing case. Of course, she didn’t believe it for a nanosecond. Yeah, Mick certainly had his dark and dangerous side. But a serial killer? Please.
She’d made love to the man. Held his body inside hers, kissed him until she didn’t know where she stopped and he began.
It wasn’t possible he could do the things the Teddie Killer had done.
But it was possible he’d somehow known he’d become a suspect, and that was why he’d tried to push her away last night.
She was grasping at straws, but nevertheless her spirits buoyed. He had to know she’d stick by him through thick and thin. Let him try to send her away. She wasn’t going anywhere.
When they got to the station, it was surrounded by reporters. “Any comment on Detective McGraw’s behavior yesterday with Officer Palmer?” one called out as the car inched through the throng.
“Should they resign from the Teddie Murders task force?” another shouted.
A third stuck her microphone up to the car window. “What do you think of the theory that McGraw is the Teddie Killer?”
“That’s it.” Caro reached for the button to lower the glass and give the reporter an earful.
Julio punched the window lock before she could get to it. “Forget it, querida. So far they haven’t figured out who you are. Let’s keep it that way.”
He parked in the underground lot and they went into the station through the back entrance. She felt like she was taking a perp walk. Though the reporters couldn’t see her, every police officer they passed either stopped to stare or turned away and wouldn’t look her in the face.
“Ho-kay, then,” she muttered. “Guess California isn’t so liberated, after all. Least not the cops.”
“Don’t pay any attention to them.” Julio took her arm and escorted her all the way to the conference room in Homicide where the task force meeting was due to start in a few minutes.
At the door she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride. And the support. It means
a lot, you sticking by me.”
He gave her a hug. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
Something in his voice made her say, “But...?”
“Walk away, Caro. From the man. From the task force. Getting into Homicide isn’t worth your reputation and your career. Maybe even your life.”
She squeezed him back. “I know what I’m doing, Jul. We’re going to catch this guy, Mick and I. It’s the only way.”
“Just don’t lose yourself while you’re doing it, querida.”
***
Caro said goodbye to Julio and went into the conference room.
The place was packed. Every cop who’d ever worked the task force was there, including Woodruff and Cody propping up the wall to one side. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the din of conversation stopped dead, like someone had pushed a mute button.
Mick was at the head of the table as usual, Bobby in the first chair to his right. At his left elbow sat Brady Washington. They both smiled as she approached—two of the few who did. Mick didn’t turn.
Further down the table where she always sat, her chair remained empty. She hesitated. She wanted to be closer to Mick. As though reading her mind, Brady got up and offered her his seat.
“Thanks,” she said, and sank into it.
With a start she noticed Lt. Fredrickson sitting across the table next to Bobby. It was the first time the L.T. had attended a task force meeting that she knew of. Was it because of the fiasco yesterday? Or because of the fingerprints Julio had mentioned....
Mick’s expression was blank and unreadable. Ignoring her, he leaned over and whispered something to Bobby. Bobby glanced at her and nodded grimly.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Mick said, cutting through the thick atmosphere of the room. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the last crime scene has produced a lot of evidence.”
“Detective McGraw,” interrupted Seth Johnson, the sergeant in charge of the canvas team. “Aren’t you going to address the rumors first?”
“Rumors?” Mick asked.
The sergeant’s face turned beet red. “Well, about...um, what the news is reporting. The window thing.”
Caro felt her cheeks go hotter than they already were. Ah, shit. Here it goes.
“I thought we cleared that up yesterday,” Mick said levelly.
She couldn’t believe he could keep such a cool demeanor when she felt like sinking right through the floor. Even Tim and Cody were smirking.
“But they’re still reporting—”
“You believe everything you hear on TV, Sergeant Johnson?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Good. Let’s move on, then.”
But Johnson wouldn’t leave it alone. “So it’s not true?”
Mick exhaled. “Does this have a bearing on the Teddie Murders?”
“It could.”
“And how’s that?” Mick asked, his patience obviously wearing thin.
“Because of the fingerprints, for instance.”
This was so unfair. Caro wanted to shout they were all crazy to suspect Mick of anything. Just because they didn’t like his hot-blooded sexual practices didn’t make him a cold-blooded killer.
“I’m not sure I follow your logic,” Mick said. “But forensics is as good a place to start as any. Maria, would you give your report?”
The chief of Forensics shot a glance at Fredrickson, who nodded slightly.
“All right, Detective,” she said. “Unlike the other crime scenes, this one contained a relative abundance of forensic evidence. We found fingerprints from eleven individuals apart from the victims, including a clear left thumb and forefinger plus two right partials. Both of which were identified as belonging to you, Detective McGraw.”
There was a moment of silence while Mick stared at Maria. “There’s no mistake?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. They’re a perfect match.”
“Where were they found?” he asked.
Maria glanced at the L.T. again. Fredrickson gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake.
Caro gritted her teeth with outrage. Withholding details so he could incriminate himself by knowing them.
“On an object,” Mick stated, ever the seasoned veteran detective. “A portable object. Am I right?”
Maria nodded.
“Let me guess. Something found behind or beneath the bed, or some other place I couldn’t accidentally have dropped it yesterday. A condom wrapper?”
Caro gasped along with everyone else at the table.
Maria’s eyes flashed. “How did you—” She cut off, no doubt coached by the lieutenant beforehand. Mustn’t elicit a confession without issuing Miranda rights first. Sticky in court. Caro wanted to jump up and smack the woman—and the L.T., too.
“Don’t say anything more,” he said brusquely. “We’ll question you later about this. For now, let’s just move on.”
Mick stood up. “Under the circumstances, I think it best if I resign from the task force.”
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. In their eyes, she knew it was an admission of guilt. No way was she going to stand by and idly watch him deep-six his career.
“This is nuts!” she practically yelled at him. “You can’t possibly be the Teddie Killer and everyone in this room knows it!” She got to her feet and scorched the others with a deadly scowl. “If Detective McGraw’s resigning, so am I,” she declared. Not that that was any big deal, but still.
Everyone stared, but the only objection was from Mick.
“No, Caro,” he said, again with that chilly demeanor. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is!”
“You aren’t suspected of anything more than poor judgment. Bobby needs your help on the case.” The chill wavered for a split second. “Tell her, Bobby.”
“If you want to clear Mick,” Bobby said, watching her intently, “the best way is to work with me. And help me find the real killer.”
“We already know who the real killer is. It has to be Smythe. Why else would he have gone into hiding? But you can bet he’ll be at the Tether Club tonight.” She leaned over and placed her hands flat on the table. “Please, Lt. Fredrickson, let Mick go to the party with me tonight. We’ll get him. I promise.”
“No!” Mick said emphatically. “I told you I don’t want you at that party. It’s too dangerous.”
The lieutenant watched their byplay, swiped a hand over his mouth. “Detective Staunton and I will make that decision later, after questioning you both. Meanwhile, I’ll accept your resignation from the task force, Detective McGraw. You’re confined to desk duty until further notice. Don’t leave the station without telling me.”
Mick nodded stiffly, darted her a lethal warning look, and stalked from the room.
She sank back onto her chair. “This isn’t police work, this is a witch hunt,” she muttered. “Mick spent hours combing through that crime scene. Finding his prints there means squat.”
Up and down the table, people shifted in their seats.
“Evidence doesn’t lie,” Maria said quietly. “No cop likes accusing one of our own. Especially someone with Detective McGraw’s record. But there are legitimate questions. Not just about the fingerprints.”
“Such as?” Caro challenged.
“Such as fibers,” Johnson said.
“We were able to match the orange silk fibers found on the victims,” Maria explained. “They all came from a type of imported scarf sold at a shop on Fair Oaks called Rasheed’s.”
Caro’s heart sank. She’d had a feeling that coincidence would be a problem.
Johnson continued, “The owner remembered a man who bought a whole dozen of those scarves. A man named Michael.”
“Common enough name,” Caro said.
“The owner had a credit card receipt. The card belonged to Detective McGraw.”
“So what?” she said, exasperated. “Everyone at Brimstone saw him wearing an orange scarf tied around his arm last nigh
t. He was trying to attract the killer’s attention.”
Johnson looked at her with a trace of pity in his eyes. “The receipt was dated almost two months ago.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “If that’s true, the killer must have known he bought them, and deliberately used the same kind of scarf.”
“Why?” Lieutenant Fredrickson asked skeptically.
“To implicate Detective McGraw, of course!” Caro exclaimed. “That would explain the fingerprints, too,” she said. “The killer must have planted them as well, which is why he used something portable. We already know he must have taken a key because the deadbolt was locked from the outside, so planting evidence after the fact would have been easy.”
“The only way your scenario is plausible,” Agent Woodruff interjected, stepping forward, “is if the murders are somehow directed at McGraw personally.”
The L.T. frowned and said, “What possible motive would the killer have to do that?”
“To distract us! Lead us on a wild goose chase. We’re getting close and he knows it. Who better to implicate than the lead detective on the case?”
Tim nodded. “That would make sense, psychologically at least. Our killer is very smart and extremely organized. He definitely has the mental capacity to toy with his pursuers like this.”
“Thank you,” Caro said, grateful for the profiler’s support. It had to count for something with the doubters. She turned back to Maria. “Did you find any orange silk fibers at the crime scene yesterday?”
The forensics chief shook her head. “Not yet, but as you know, it will take weeks to sift through all the evidence. The lab is pretty backed up from the other scenes.”
“What about on the body?” Caro asked the assistant medical examiner, who’d been watching the debate with interest.
Benedict also shook his head. “We did examine the eyebrows first thing, since that’s where the fibers were found on the other victims. Nothing has shown up as yet. But again, it’s just preliminary at this point.”
“There! You see!” Caro said, satisfied despite his caveat. “There were none on the Atkins woman either! The pattern changed with his third set of victims—after the papers announced Mick was lead detective. Our guy is a control freak. He’d have done his research on the man assigned to stop him.”
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