Killing Ways

by Alex Barclay

  ‘Probably because it would have sounded like he was inviting you.’

  ‘True …’ Ren sighed. ‘It’s all rather exhausting.’

  ‘Let’s check out Vine’s website,’ said Ren. ‘If that was his first point of contact with Duke Rawlins – if that’s how Rawlins found him, I’d like to know what it was that drew him in.’

  They opened up ForTheForgotten.net.

  They scrolled through the images.

  ‘He wasn’t a bad photographer …’ said Janine.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ren, pointing to the screen. ‘These ones were in the Denver Post after that retrospective series on asylums. And then … the rapes happened. It’s Kennington – that was the building Everett was talking about.’

  Ren could feel Janine tense beside her. They both knew that the Kennington rapist, now in prison, had attempted to rape Ren. Janine simply squeezed Ren’s forearm, and stuck with the task at hand.

  God bless you.

  ‘And look at all the eerie woodland shots,’ said Janine.

  ‘This kind of shit fascinates me too, though,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m still going to decide he’s a psycho and I’m not.’

  ‘Look at this place – the Ostler Building – it’s an old toy factory,’ said Janine, pointing. ‘“Creepsville” as you would say.’

  ‘Don’t touch my screen,’ said Ren.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Janine.

  ‘Where is this place?’ said Ren. ‘Oh … it’s in RiNo by the railroad, near my filthy man-gym. Yikes. I think you can see that from Safe Streets. I always thought that part was just a chimney.’

  ‘These external shots are old, though,’ said Janine. ‘They’re vintage. Sixties looking.’

  ‘Yes, because I think we may have noticed if there was a giant cut-out doll’s head towering over RiNo. Vine must have found the building, bought the vintage shots of it online somewhere. Or found the photos, then tracked down the building. I mean, you can’t get more abandoned than that.’

  ‘And yes,’ said Janine, ‘look at the inside – there’s the head propped up against the wall.’

  ‘Jesus – a flat, timber doll’s head,’ said Ren, ‘beside a plastic bucket filled with regular dolls’ heads … terror overload.’

  ‘Why are dolls heads so sinister?’ said Janine.

  ‘Because they rotate three-sixty, their dead eyes blink twice, and, at night, they push nightmares – via your tear ducts – into the back of your eyeballs.’

  ‘Did someone actually tell you that?’

  ‘My brother, Jay,’ said Ren. ‘No wonder I’m screwed up. And he said they block up your tear ducts so you can’t cry, so no one can hear you cry.’ She looked at Janine. ‘I think you need to stay over tonight …’

  59

  Ren spent the next morning at Safe Streets studying everything that was pinned to the noticeboards. She was briefed by the investigators present on their progress. She went for a late lunch with a paperback so she could breathe, have space, detach. Instead, she was drawn to thoughts of Duke Rawlins. She switched to thinking about Ben. And that led her to Joe.

  Grr. Get out of my head.

  Shaun’s graduation!

  She texted Joe.

  Good luck to Shaun! Forensic Psychology – we may employ him in the future. To the great horror of his NYPD dad …

  Joe replied: Promise me, son, not to do the things she’s done …

  ‘Coward of the County’! Kenny Rogers!

  Ren replied: LMFAO!

  She could see Shaun Lucchesi as an FBI profiler. A sullen one. Serious. Dedicated.

  Oh. Jesus.

  She looked through her contacts for Vincent Farraday and dialed his number. It rang over and over, until he picked up as she was about to abandon hope.

  ‘Mr Farraday, it’s Special Agent Ren Bryce,’ she said. ‘I met with you and—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said.

  ‘Could I ask you a question?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You mentioned a young man from New York calling to your home to ask you questions about Duke Rawlins. You said he seemed like he was interested in the truth, so you spoke with him. Was he one of the “forensics” people you mentioned who called on you?’

  The silence stretched.

  Please, please, please remember this.

  ‘Yes,’ said Vincent, ‘yes he was.’

  ‘Forensic Psychology?’ said Ren.

  ‘That was it,’ said Vincent.

  ‘When was that?’ said Ren.

  ‘That would have been oh, last year, definitely.’

  ‘Did he give you his name?’ said Ren.

  ‘Erm … Banner,’ said Vincent.

  ‘Banner?’ said Ren.

  ‘Shaun Banner,’ said Vincent.

  Banner, my ass. And no wonder Joe Lucchesi looked familiar to you, Mr Farraday.

  Ren called Denver University’s Admissions Office. They had no Shaun Lucchesi, but they did have a Masters student called Shaun Banner, with an address on the Auraria Campus. Ren got there in ten minutes, and ran to his room.

  There were groups of frightened-looking students gathered down the hallway, and a voice raised to an alarming level inside Shaun’s room.

  That is Joe Lucchesi.

  ‘What have you done?’ he was roaring. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  Ren held up her creds to the students. ‘Please, move along, everyone. This is under control.’

  ‘Nothing to see here!’ said one of the kids, and everyone laughed.

  She waited for them to start moving.

  There was the sound of a crash, and broken glass from inside the room.

  Jesus Christ.

  Ren hammered on the door with her fist. ‘It’s Ren. Open up.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Joe!’ said Ren. ‘Open up. Now.’

  Silence.

  ‘Don’t make me kick the door in,’ said Ren.

  The door unlocked. The first person she saw was Shaun Lucchesi, sitting in the chair by his desk, but facing the door. He was ghostly, his eyes rimmed in red. There was a smashed lamp at his feet. There were books around the floor, on the bed.

  Joe was standing there, red-faced, sweating, wild-eyed.

  A force.

  Ren closed the door behind her. She moved the books along the bed up toward the desk, cleared a space.

  ‘Joe – sit down,’ said Ren.

  ‘I’m good,’ he said.

  ‘You need to sit down,’ said Ren.

  Whatever was in her tone, he did as she said. She leaned against the wall opposite him.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ she said.

  Neither man spoke.

  ‘I’m going to get the ball rolling, then,’ said Ren. ‘I spoke with Vincent Farraday this morning—’

  Joe stood up. ‘We need to talk in private for a moment.’

  Ren glanced over at Shaun.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘You can go into the hallway. I’m not going to do anything.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ said Ren.

  He nodded.

  She stepped into the hallway with Joe, but left the door open.

  ‘He was registered here as Shaun Banner,’ said Joe. ‘For obvious reasons. But before you talk to him, you need to know that he doesn’t know we’re looking at Duke Rawlins for this case. I made up some other bullshit as to why I was working with you. And you guys didn’t release enough details to the media for him to come to that conclusion. Either way, he’s been all about getting an internship and his graduation over the past few months. I’ll let him tell you what he’s been doing. You obviously know some of it already. But, yes, as you can see, I just fucking lost it with him, Ren. I lost my fucking mind. I hope you can understand why. I didn’t lay a finger on him, but—’

  ‘I know that,’ said Ren. ‘Of course.’ Jesus. ‘Take a moment, OK?’

  Joe nodded. He rubbed his hand through his hair, took some deep breaths.

  ‘I heard he was ask
ing questions around Stinger’s Creek …’ said Ren.

  ‘It’ll blow your fucking mind what he’s been doing,’ said Joe.

  They went back inside, and Joe took his seat on the bed. Ren stood where she had been.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ said Shaun, looking hopefully in his direction.

  Well, your father is clearly not ready to accept that apology.

  ‘Tell her,’ said Joe. ‘Tell her what you did.’

  Shaun looked reduced, stripped of his twenty-six years, back to sixteen, back to infuriating his father.

  ‘My dissertation for my Masters was on serial killers, and I included in that Duke Rawlins and Donald Riggs.’

  Holy. Shit.

  ‘He only told me this now,’ said Joe.

  ‘I’m not surprised your father lost it,’ said Ren.

  ‘I cannot believe that he kept that from me all this time,’ said Joe.

  ‘I guess your professors couldn’t have stopped you doing this, if they didn’t know your real name,’ said Ren.

  Shaun nodded. He turned to Joe. ‘I thought you’d be proud.’

  Joe erupted. ‘Proud? Are you out of your mind? Proud that you threw yourself in the path of the man who has already done his best to destroy us and who will finish the job, given half the chance?’

  Didn’t you say you believed that Duke Rawlins wasn’t after you? Oh, you lied, Joe Lucchesi. You want him to be after you. It’s your only way of getting your chance to kill him.

  ‘I cannot believe,’ said Joe, standing again, stabbing a finger at Shaun, ‘the risk you took, after everything I’ve done to protect you: the name, the move from New York, your little sister, for crying out loud – didn’t you consider Grace? Wouldn’t you want to protect her from even a fraction of what you’ve been through? You selfish, selfish, brat. I thought you’d grown up, Shaun. I thought you’d fucking grown up. But you’re still a self-indulgent little shit.’

  Oh, Jesus. Rein it in, Joe.

  Shaun stood up to face him. ‘I do want to protect Grace!’ he said. ‘I love her more than anything in the world. How fucking dare you? That’s the whole point! I wanted to find a way of getting Duke Rawlins that was peaceful, sensible, non-violent: by analyzing his psychology, predicting possible future behavior, thoughtfully studying him, not by firing a fucking gun in his direction! Which is your approach to everything!’

  ‘My approach to everything?’ said Joe. ‘Jesus Christ! That’s what you think?’

  ‘Well, look where it got us the last time!’ said Shaun. ‘Your solution to Donnie Riggs – shoot the fucker! And here we are. This is what that gets you.’

  Oh, no. Worst possible thing to say to Joe Lucchesi.

  I can’t even bear to see that pain in his face.

  Shaun looked horrified himself.

  ‘Please, guys,’ said Ren. ‘Everyone is angry—’

  ‘Of course I’m angry!’ said Joe. ‘He has jeopardized his entire family. And all I’ve ever done is try to protect you …’ He looked deflated.

  ‘Sit down, both of you,’ said Ren. ‘This has gotten too … this is too much.’

  They sat down, fuming, staring at the floor.

  You look so alike.

  ‘Shaun, do you want to talk to me about what you found out about Duke Rawlins?’ said Ren.

  ‘I believe that Duke Rawlins was systematically physically and sexually abused from when he was a very young child. And that his mother, Wanda Rawlins, pimped him out to pedophiles in return for drugs.’

  Oh, God.

  60

  ‘How did you work that out about Rawlins’ childhood?’ said Ren.

  ‘I thought of us …’ said Shaun, gesturing toward Joe.

  Joe and Ren looked at him.

  ‘Yourself?’ said Joe.

  He nodded. ‘I thought about how people leave places that bring them bad memories. We left New York to go to Ireland, we left Ireland to come back to the US, I left New York again to come here …’ He shrugged. ‘People leave the places that hold memories they would rather forget.’

  He’s right. Where is he going with this?

  ‘I looked at all the people who moved away from Stinger’s Creek,’ said Shaun. ‘People who were there around the time that Rawlins and Riggs committed these crimes, people who were in school with them, people connected in any way to the crimes. I spoke with everyone I could get a hold of. I researched the ones I couldn’t. I found a woman called Dorothy Parnum. Her husband, Ogden, was the Police Chief at the time of the Crosscut Killer investigation. When he killed himself, she relocated to Wichita Falls—’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ said Joe. ‘The summer camp at Wichita Falls – you didn’t work there at all!’

  ‘No, I did,’ said Shaun. ‘Just not as much as you thought …’

  Joe looked at Ren. ‘Can you believe this shit?’

  ‘Keep going,’ said Ren.

  ‘I tracked Dorothy Parnum down to a meeting for child sex-abuse victims,’ said Shaun. ‘I joined the group. She spoke. She said she had discovered that her husband had been abusing children. She found photos after he died …’

  Joe nodded. ‘I spoke with the DA, Marcy Winbaum, back in the day,’ he said. ‘She told me that Duke Rawlins visited Ogden Parnum at the police department when the investigation was at its height. Parnum gave Rawlins and Riggs an alibi for the night of one of the murders. Marcy Winbaum guessed he was blackmailed into it – she just didn’t know why.’

  ‘I spoke with her too,’ said Shaun. ‘She said the same thing to me. When I put it together with what I knew about Dorothy Parnum, it made sense. I also cross-referenced a whole lot of things that I don’t think law enforcement did. I researched every single kid who went to school with Duke Rawlins or Donnie Riggs – I interviewed some of them, I interviewed their teachers. I looked at all the information I gathered from a psychological angle, with a view to building up a profile of Duke Rawlins and a full picture of his childhood.

  ‘I found a girl who had moved away from Stinger’s Creek – a girl called Ashley Ames. In school, she gave Duke Rawlins the nickname that apparently tormented him – Pukey Dukey. She told me that Duke Rawlins and Donald Riggs raped her when she was sixteen. She believed this happened because she was the one to have given him this nickname. I thought that seemed extreme, even for Duke Rawlins. Then I discovered that Ashley Ames’ father was arrested five years ago on a child pornography charge. I think he also abused Duke Rawlins, and that was why Ashley Ames was raped – revenge. I was able to connect her father, Westley Ames, to Ogden Parnum – they went hunting together. And there were more men who went hunting with them … I’m waiting to hear back from a source who promised to give me more names. I haven’t put these details in my dissertation, because I would need the legalities to be perfect, but they’re part of my research.’

  Ren nodded.

  ‘I worked up a profile on Rawlins,’ said Shaun. He went over to the pile of papers and books on the bed. He pulled out a slim file, passing it right in front of Joe’s face to hand it to Ren.

  Ouch.

  Ren started to read the profile. ‘This is great, Shaun. You’ve picked up on a lot of points from the FBI’s profile.’

  Nothing new, nothing new, nothing new.

  Oh.

  There were two things at the end:

  Duke Rawlins has a deep hatred and mistrust of law enforcement, or anyone in a position of trust. This is likely due to the abuse he may have suffered at their hands as a child. It culminated in his particular hatred of NYPD Detective Joe Lucchesi, whose family he targeted in a sustained campaign following the shooting dead of Rawlins’ accomplice, Donald Riggs.

  ‘What is it?’ said Joe.

  ‘Let me keep reading,’ said Ren.

  She read on about the rapes and murders. But it was the final comment that sent a shiver up her spine.

  Combining the background, experience, modus operandi, behavior, interests, and obsessions that come together to make up Duke Rawlins, I believ
e that his deep mistrust of law enforcement will lead him to pursue any law enforcement officer who has engaged with him in the past on any level. Duke Rawlins is a psychopath, and as such, suffers from all forms of cognitive distortion; his thought patterns are entirely weighted toward the negative in all aspects of his life. He is consumed by what he sees as his righteous entitlement to vengeance following the death of his closest ally, his accomplice, Donald Riggs. For Rawlins to achieve his goals, having perceived any original failures in that regard as catastrophic, he will stalk, study, and watch his targets closely before he attacks. He will leave nothing to chance.

  Ren could feel a rush of realization.

  The glass in Donna Darisse’s feet: clear, blue, green … the color of dolls’ eyes.

  Duke Rawlins. Law enforcement. Watch them.

  Like a hawk.

  This was what Duke Rawlins wanted from Kurt Vine: access to the tower of the toy factory in RiNo … whose windows overlook Safe Streets.

  Ren closed the file and handed it back to Shaun.

  Jesus Christ. Duke Rawlins has been watching us all this time.

  61

  Ren moved toward the door, looked from Shaun to Joe.

  ‘OK,’ she said, her face impassive. She checked her watch. ‘The graduation is in what – forty minutes? I’m going to leave you gentlemen to it. You can make up … hopefully? And go in peace?’ She smiled. ‘And Joe, I’ll see you when you get back from Breckenridge. Congratulations, Shaun.’ She handed him her card. ‘If your source comes through on the names of Rawlins’ abusers, could you please forward them to me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Shaun. ‘I’ll do that. Thank you. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.’

  ‘You didn’t cause me any trouble,’ said Ren. ‘And – to reassure you,’ she said to Joe, ‘I’m going to have Everett King and Robbie Truax stationed at the auditorium for the ceremony.’

  Joe’s eyes widened.

  Ren shrugged. ‘Peace is good.’

  Joe smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Ren got in the Jeep and called Everett.

  ‘Everett, have you got your magic fingers to hand? Fingers, hand – see what I did there?’

  ‘I do,’ said Everett. ‘What do you need?’