SEALs of Honor: Taylor

by Dale Mayer

  “Good,” he said. “Put a star beside her name and keep going.”

  It was painful work as she dredged through the parts of her life she didn’t want to look at again. She had good reasons why she wasn’t friends with these people anymore. By the time she was done, she had added three more names to the list. She handed it to him and said, “For the moment, that’s all I can think of.”

  “Good,” he said, “and, with that out of your brain, hopefully you might sleep.”

  “Actually I was wondering if I could impose just a bit.”

  “Anything,” he said. “Name it.”

  “That whiskey you mentioned earlier. Any chance I could have a shot?” she asked hopefully. “I don’t usually, but I think it would help me sleep tonight.”

  Taylor was already up off the couch and headed for the whiskey decanter and two glasses. “I’m so glad you asked,” he said, “because I’ve been dying for some myself. I wasn’t going to but …”

  She chuckled. “You could have had one without me, you know.”

  “What I should have done was offer you one,” he said with a grin. “Then we could have both enjoyed it.” He returned with two beautiful cut-crystal glasses and handed one to her.

  She smiled and accepted it, then took a sip of the whiskey and let the aroma float through her nostrils and through her mouth at the same time. Sitting back, she said, “This is very nice.”

  “It is, isn’t it? A friend of mine sent it from Scotland.”

  “Nice to have friends in high places,” she said with a smile.

  “Actually he’s in the industry,” Taylor said with a smirk. “Not so much in high places, but well-placed friends come in handy at times.”

  “The best kind.” She tilted her glass and clanged it gently against his. “Thank you for helping me today.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now what we both need is a good night’s sleep.”

  She nodded and smiled, then took the whiskey and drank half of it in one go. She could feel the burn down her throat all the way to her stomach. She smiled. “I don’t usually like to shoot them like that, but, man, that was irresistible.”

  “I’m impressed,” he said. “Most people I know can’t do that.”

  “It’s a guy thing,” she said. “And very few women drink spirits neat.”

  “Are you going to do that with the rest of it?”

  She shook her head and asked, “Do you mind if I take this while I get ready for bed?”

  “Not at all. Come on,” he said, then led the way to a spare bedroom barely bigger than a closet. “It’s really small. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “My place is exactly the same on the other side. Remember?”

  “Right,” he said. “I’d forgotten that.”

  She walked in and turned to face him.

  “So it’s a good thing,” he said. “You know where everything is. I don’t have clothes or anything in there, but you should be warm enough. And I can give you a couple towels if you want to shower.”

  “A shower would be helpful,” she said, and then she stopped and shook her head. “No, I think I’ll have one in the morning. I don’t want to interrupt the flow of sleep, and I am very tired now. Good night, Taylor.” Stepping into the guest room, she closed the door.

  She placed her whiskey on the night table and pulled back the covers on the single bed. She still wore her work clothes. Which, in her case today, were slacks and a dressier shirt over a T-shirt. But she would need her slacks and shirt for work again, at least for part of tomorrow, until she could get back inside her apartment, so she took them off to keep them as unwrinkled as possible. Realizing she’d never get any sleep with her bra on, she took that off too, leaving her T-shirt and panties on. She curled up under the covers, then reached over and tossed back the rest of the whiskey, replacing the now-empty glass on the night table.

  She closed her eyes, hopeful the whiskey would stop any violent nightmares, but she also knew it would be hard to sleep regardless. Three people had died, and she might be a target. But she could do little about it tonight, so she tucked the covers firmly under her chin, closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  *

  Midge was right; Taylor hadn’t seen very many women shoot whiskey neat before. He sat in the living room after she had turned out her light and sipped the rest of his whiskey. He stared down at the list of names she’d given him. First and last names and, in some cases, phone numbers. He brought up his laptop and searched the names. He found the first three fairly easily. One of the three had married since the time she had been friends with Midge. And another of the three had moved east about six months ago. He made notes on the list. Happily married women were rarely serial killers. The third name he couldn’t find any information on. Another he found didn’t appear to have made any positive changes in her world. He put an asterisk by that one. And the person who had blamed Midge for getting fired was still around. He put an asterisk there too.

  His phone rang. He checked the Caller ID and saw it was Nelson.

  “Hey, you holding up okay?” Nelson asked.

  “Yeah,” Taylor said, keeping his voice low. “She’s asleep in my spare room.”

  “Good. I heard something on the news about the super and his wife.”

  “Yeah, both of them shot. Looks like first thing this morning, while they were still in bed. They didn’t look like they even struggled,” Taylor said.

  “Probably hard of hearing. He must have crept into the bedroom while they were sound asleep, popped the first one and then the second right away. Whichever one was the worst off would have been the second.”

  “Well, the woman was on oxygen.”

  “Jesus. That’s so sad. They should have been allowed to live out the last of their days in peace,” Nelson said.

  “I know. And the only thing I can think of is that the murderer then gained access to Midge’s apartment through them.”

  “Christ, learn to pick a lock,” Nelson said in disgust. “They didn’t have to shoot those people.”

  “Considering three bullets were in Gary Sims,” Taylor said, “what are the chances that killing the old couple was the warm-up? Maybe the killer needed that to do the rest.”

  “In which case we need to stop them before they get to liking it.”

  “May be too late,” Taylor said succinctly. “Before she went to bed, Midge gave me a list of five names. I’m working my way down the list. But I can’t find anything on this one. His name is Joseph Barnes.”

  “What’s the connection?” Nelson asked.

  “She dated him briefly. He wanted more, but she didn’t, and they had an ugly breakup.”

  “Yeah, isn’t that lovely? So we have an ugly breakup, and I murder some guy in your bed so you get to suffer for it for the rest of your life?” Nelson’s tone was disgusted. “It’s a sick world we live in.”

  “I think it’s also connected to that much bigger and related issue, but I haven’t heard anything from anybody on the hacking of the staff records department.”

  “We’re not likely to either. You know that, right?” Nelson asked.

  “I know, but it would be nice to know what the hell was hacked and why anybody would want to get in there. Speaking of which, one of the women Midge was on the outs with, I don’t see her on Facebook and find no mention of another job or anything suggesting she’s still in town. And another woman got fired and blamed Midge for it.”

  “What? Explain that.”

  Taylor went through the quick synopsis of what Midge had said about her and some of the others on the list.

  “Interesting,” said Nelson. “That’s definitely the kind of person we’re looking for. But I don’t know why she would have chosen Gary.”

  “That’s a very good question,” Taylor said, sitting back. “I’ve been focusing on Midge, but maybe we should be focusing on Gary’s life. Who hated him enough to kill him?”

  “Oh, I think I would have do
ne the same as you. I would have tried to figure out who hated her enough to kill him in her bed. But you’re right. We have another victim here, and he was chosen for a reason.”

  “Detective Butler has her cell phone, unfortunately. I wish I had it, though I’d hate to hack into it without asking her,” Taylor said.

  “True, but you did show Midge the app and stuff earlier, right?”

  “Yeah, and I might know her password too. Stand by a second. I’m gonna grab my laptop.” In no time he had her account brought up online. “Yeah, I’ve got it here, and I’m looking at Gary’s profile. Loves outdoor fun and games.”

  “I’ll never put that down on a dating site,” Nelson said, “because gunfire and bloodshed aren’t my idea of fun and games.”

  Taylor chuckled. “Lucky for you, Elizabeth isn’t likely to ever leave you and for sure will never let you put your profile up on one of these dating sites.”

  “Nope,” Nelson said in a smug tone. “She won’t.”

  Taylor continued to read Gary’s profile. “It doesn’t say anything more than what you’d expect. Says he’s thirty-four and single, looking for a serious relationship. It does, however, give his general residential area, which is also on base.”

  “And you know, Taylor, maybe the killer is a woman and was using the hookup app to search for anybody eligible on base.”

  “Yeah, Midge brought up the female killer angle too. But think about it,” Taylor said. “How many guys are on Tinder here at the base?”

  “Do a search,” Nelson urged. “Type in Coronado and see how many pop up.”

  “Four hundred and sixty-two male profiles listed,” Taylor announced a moment later. “Hmm, I thought it would be more than that. Then again, the base isn’t a separate directory.”

  Nelson continued, “If our theoretical female killer can’t single out men on the base from the Tinder search functions alone, she would have to go through all the names.”

  “Actually, if it was Jenny, that former coworker of Midge’s,” Taylor mused, “she was working in staff records, so her search would be that much easier.”

  “True enough,” Nelson said. “I’m liking Jenny better and better for this.”

  “The problem with that thinking is that Midge fits better and better too, since she still works in staff records. You know the detective will zero in on that.”

  “So get more intel that leads to Jenny.”

  “She’d still need access to a weapon and that cold-blooded killer mentality to take out three people just because she hated Midge,” Taylor replied.

  “But that rage can grow on a person. We see it where, on the outside, they appear totally normal, but, on the inside, they’re just empty.”

  “I know,” Taylor said, remembering a few cases where he’d stared into a killer’s eyes, usually in a war-torn country, and saw either a pure hatred of his enemy or the emptiness of somebody who had suffered and done so much wrong that they couldn’t function normally anymore. “Jenny certainly would have had the access.”

  “Except her access would have been revoked the minute she was fired,” Nelson said.

  “Unless she’s the one who hacked into the database. Just because we’re assuming she wasn’t into IT doesn’t mean she wasn’t a hacker. Or that she doesn’t have a hacker for a partner. What if that was the reason for going into the databases to check out these local guys on Tinder?”

  “That’s some pretty major hacking for a revenge that she waited six months for. I don’t know that it washes, buddy.”

  “I don’t know either,” Taylor said. “It probably doesn’t.” He leaned back and rubbed his forehead. “My head’s going around in circles over this.”

  “Means downtime for you too,” Nelson ordered. “You don’t know what else will happen tonight. Three bodies so far.”

  “Not only that,” Taylor said, “I’m pretty sure the killer was in Midge’s apartment when I was here because, when I came home, her door wasn’t open. Only after she stopped in to tell me that mine was open did I notice hers was too.”

  “Yeah, that’s a little odd, isn’t it? And you never heard anything? No shooting or anybody leaving?”

  “Nothing. I came home, turned on the stereo and collapsed on the couch. You know what it’s like when you come back from a mission. Even though home is not much, it’s still home, and all you want to do is chill.”

  “Not to mention you weren’t expecting anything unusual,” Nelson said. “In a way that’s even worse because you get up, thinking all is well, and then find out something major happened and how you didn’t hear it. At least if you’d heard it, you would have had something to say about it. But to know you were home and somebody was over there, well that just sucks.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that reminder,” Taylor said in a grouchy voice. “Like I needed more guilt.”

  “Not guilt,” Nelson said. “Never that. But just the awareness that things happen behind closed doors which we aren’t aware of. And that’s sad. Just think about the old couple downstairs. How long before anybody would have knocked on the door if you hadn’t gone after them?”

  “For all I know, several people did knock on the door today. The cops said they would check the video on the building, but I suspect they’ll find the video system was down or that the person is completely disguised so they’re unrecognizable.”

  “They wouldn’t have gotten away with three murders so far if they weren’t at least that good,” Nelson said. “Listen. Call it a night. Morning will be here fast enough.”

  “Thanks, man. You too,” Taylor said, and he hung up. He’d heard worse advice. He headed to bed. What he needed was sleep, and he knew it. And maybe, if he was lucky, his brain, which was wired to sort out puzzles, would wake up with some decent answers come morning.

  Chapter 6

  Midge woke early in the morning, feeling groggy, her mind slow to respond to the morning stimulus. When she reached for her phone, she remembered she didn’t have it. She sat up to look out the window to see if she could get an idea of the time. The light was barely breaking on the horizon, so she thought it wasn’t quite five in the morning yet. She collapsed back on the bed, wishing she was still asleep. She wasn’t sure what had woken her up. Taylor was in a corner apartment, and hers was on the opposite side of the building.

  Something had woken her. She got up, partially dressed, then slipped out of the room and walked down to the bathroom. When she walked back out, she stopped in the small apartment and cocked her head, trying to figure out what she still heard. It was coming from the hallway. Frowning, she walked over to the door and peered through the keyhole. She could only see directly in front of her. But, as she angled her view, she saw somebody close to her apartment. She froze, desperate to open up the door but knew Taylor would have a raging fit if she did that. Suddenly she wasn’t alone.

  He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “What’s the matter?”

  After her initial start, she pointed at the keyhole, and he leaned down to take a closer look. Dressed only in pajama pants, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Instantly footsteps ran away. Taylor went after the guy as she waited, wondering what she should do. Her door didn’t seem to be open, but it looked like her intruder had left something in the doorknob, trying to open it up. There was little she could do at the moment.

  But she grabbed his phone and stepped out into the hallway and took pictures of whatever it was in her door. He had gotten her apartment door open. But it was barely ajar, which explained why she hadn’t noticed that from Taylor’s doorway. She didn’t know why anybody would want to return to the crime scene, but she stepped back, waiting and hoping Taylor managed to catch him. And, if not him, then at least the cameras caught his face, and maybe she could identify whoever it was who had just raced through the hallway. She leaned against Taylor’s doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for Taylor to come back.

  “What are you doing out here?” Taylor whispered a
s he came through the door to the stairs.

  He was alone and wore a pissed look on his face. She turned and walked back inside his apartment. She checked the time on his phone and saw it was five-thirty. She couldn’t go back to sleep now for sure and walked over to the coffeemaker and prepared to put on a pot.

  He came in behind her and slammed the door, leaning against it, his eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she filled the carafe with water.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was mine. He had a vehicle waiting. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “With somebody else driving?”

  He nodded slowly. “Whatever the hell is going on here involves more than one person.”

  “Oh, well, that changes things,” she said. She turned to finish the coffee and pressed the button on the machine. “Do you need a shower, or do you need to at least treat your feet?”

  He looked down at his bare feet in disgust. “I’ll call the detective as soon as I get a shower. That’s all the babying these feet will get.”

  “You could let somebody look after you for a change.”

  “When I calm down, maybe,” he said. “Right now, I want to wring someone’s neck. And I wish it was your intruder.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

  A few moments later she heard the shower going and smiled. Seeing how someone handled themselves in a conflict or a crisis was a really good way to find out what their true character was like. He had no intention of letting her bear the brunt of his temper, and she appreciated that. He was a good man. The fact that he had done as much as he had to look after her already was amazing.

  She couldn’t believe the speed and the power she witnessed when he’d gone after that guy, but, with a head start and a vehicle ready—she stopped and walked over to the notepad and wrote down “Vehicle?”

  She’d never been that interested in knowing about vehicles. She just wanted to get in, start the engine and have it work. Other than that she didn’t care.