by Herron, Rita
Rafe closed his eyes. “How bad? Were the woman’s hands missing?”
A long pause fraught with tension followed.
“Jake?”
“No. Her eyes.”
Rafe’s chest constricted. “Jesus. You think it’s the same perp?”
“I’ll let you decide. I’m texting you the address now.”
“I’m on my way.”
Rafe ended the call, then rushed to find Liz.
Liz had to get her head in the case. In the mind of this killer.
A dark place to be when the perp was dissecting and collecting body parts.
Rafe parked on the edge of the road behind Jake’s police car and grabbed his kit from the back. A Jeep Wrangler sat beneath some trees, a bumper sticker for the local high school on the back. The Jeep obviously belonged to the teens who found the body.
Together Liz and Rafe hiked through the woods until they reached the embankment where the girl and her boyfriend sat huddled together on a rock, clinging to each other. The girl had been crying and was leaning into the young man. He had his arm around her, offering comfort, but his features were strained with shock as well.
Jake stood between the body and the teens, his phone pressed to his ear.
Liz stopped beside the couple and knelt to speak to them while Rafe strode toward Jake. “You two found the body?” she asked quietly.
They both nodded, and the girl looked up at her with tearstained eyes. “It’s so horrible. The vultures were on her. . . .”
The boy hugged her to his side.
The girl sniffled. “My mom’s going to kill me for cutting school.”
Liz smiled softly. “I’m sure your mother will just be glad that you’re okay.”
“No, I’ll be grounded for life,” she sobbed.
Liz squeezed her arm. “Maybe, but she’ll also be relieved that you aren’t hurt.” She turned to address the boy. “Tell me what happened.”
He squared his shoulders in a show of bravado. She was sure that act was for the girl. In truth, he looked as if he might hurl any second.
He gestured toward the canoe on the bank. “We came out here to be alone.”
“Did you see anyone else around the area?”
He shook his head. “Carina saw vultures diving toward the ground. That’s when we spotted the woman.”
“How about where you put the boat in? Anyone there? A car, maybe?”
They both shook their heads.
“Did you hear anything? Voices in the woods? A boat or car motor?”
The girl swiped at her tears. “No.”
“The place was deserted,” he said.
Liz pushed her card into the boy’s hand. “If either of you think of anything else, please let us know.”
The boy looked up, shading his eyes with his hand. “You’re going to catch whoever did that to her, aren’t you?”
Liz offered him an encouraging look. “Yes, we’ll catch him.”
Of course, the police had told her the same thing when her mother was murdered. But her case had gone cold until Liz reopened it.
She wouldn’t let this one go cold. She’d get justice for these women.
Chapter Eleven
Rafe grimaced as he studied the scene. Leaving the woman’s body in the weeds by the creek for the vultures to feast on was consistent with the last murder.
But if they were dealing with the same killer, why the eyes this time, instead of the hands?
In light of the fact that Liz thought she’d seen Harlan the night before, he had to consider the possibility that he had resurfaced and changed his MO. Instead of slashing his victim’s throats, he’d decided to sever body parts.
But that was a drastic change.
He glanced at Liz, and saw her rub her fingers across her temple in thought. She was thinking the same thing.
Except for Liz’s mother and Liz, who’d been abducted in a desperate attempt to cover his crimes and save himself from apprehension, all of Harlan’s victims had been young single mothers, all DHS cases.
But Ester Banning was not a young woman. She was in her early fifties. The woman on the ground looked about the same age. The victimology didn’t match the pattern of Harlan’s targets.
Leaves rustled, and Dr. Bullock appeared, glasses slipping down his nose as he picked his way through the weeds. A tall, lanky man with dark curly hair, bright blue eyes, and a nervous tic in his jaw followed on his heels. Dr. Bullock introduced him as a bone specialist.
Liz joined them, her gaze raking over the victim’s tattered clothing and mangled face. Blood had trickled down her cheeks, her face looked gaunt and muddy, and the vultures had pecked at her eye sockets, face, and arms.
“My God,” Liz murmured. “Poor woman.”
“What do you think?” Rafe asked.
Dr. Bullock knelt beside the victim and touched her skin, then conducted a liver temp test. “Hard to tell time of death till I get her on the table. Clothes are wet, so I’d say she was dumped in the creek like Ester Banning and washed up on the bank with the current.” Dr. Bullock touched the ground and then gestured toward the creek. “A storm threatened last night, making the current stronger. Soil is damp, too.”
Liz used her hand as a sun shield as she pivoted to look downstream. “There’s an old dirt road that leads to a campground on the west side of the river. He could have put a boat in from there.”
Rafe gestured toward the teens. “What are you going to do about them?”
“They already called their parents,” Jake answered. “They should be here soon.”
Dr. Bullock examined the ends of the woman’s fingernails, then took scrapings. “Nails are jagged, indicating she put up a fight. Maybe we’ll get some DNA.”
“Any ID on her?” Liz asked.
“I didn’t find any,” Jake said. “No wallet or purse anywhere nearby.”
“How about her eyes?”
Jake winced. “Found one of them. Other one is missing.”
Liz released a weary breath. “Another trophy.”
When Lieutenant Maddison arrived, he hurried over to Rafe. “We found something interesting on the Banning woman.”
“What?” Rafe asked.
“A drop of blood that didn’t belong to the victim.”
Liz stepped closer. “It was from the killer?”
“That’s the logical explanation.”
“So you have DNA?” Jake asked.
“That’s the strange part,” Lieutenant Maddison said.
Liz cleared her throat. “What do you mean? It is human blood, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but there’s an odd marker that indicates that the person may have had genetic altering. If you find a suspect, this could make identification easier.”
Rafe curled his hands into fists. “Damn. It also suggests that our unsub could have been part of the Commander’s experiment.”
“What if Banning worked with him? She called the prison to see if he could have visitors,” Liz said.
“That’s a possibility,” Rafe said. “I still think Truitt is connected. He might even be working with an accomplice.”
Dr. Bullock pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I detect a faint scent of some kind of strong soap on her hands.”
“Like hospital soap?” Liz suggested.
Dr. Bullock nodded. “Yes. And maybe bleach. Which would fit if she worked in the medical field.”
“Or the killer could have tried to wash away evidence,” Rafe said.
“If the unsub knew both women, there’s our connection,” Liz said. “Let’s check the HomeBound office and see if Samson recognizes this victim.”
“Good thinking,” Rafe said.
Liz frowned. “Considering that our unsub likes to collect body parts, what if he actually has some med
ical training himself?”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Rafe folded his arms. “But look at the crude way he extracted the woman’s eyes. If he was trained in the medical field and had any skill, his cutting would have been more meticulous, wouldn’t it? Smoother, not jagged.”
“In theory, yes.” Liz pointed to the torn skin and cartilage. “But our killer is not rational. These cuts are full of emotion. Rage.”
“He’s trying to throw us off?” Rafe suggested.
“That’s also possible,” Liz said. “Either way, I have a bad feeling he’s not done yet.”
He strolled the halls of Slaughter Creek Sanitarium, noting how little the mental facility had changed. The chipped paint and dank rancid odors reminded him of his childhood.
Painful memories had embedded themselves so deeply into his psyche that they’d become part of him. A familiar part that he didn’t know how to live without.
Pain. Pleasure.
A fine line between the two.
The sound of a crying patient down the hall made him think of CHIMES. The others he’d been locked away with had been his friends, his brothers and sisters.
Yet most of them were dead now. Dead because the Commander was covering his tracks.
At least two others had turned into killers. Giogardi. Seven.
Ah, Seven. So beautiful.
But she was also the Commander’s daughter.
Yet none of them had known it at the time. And the ruthless bastard had not spared her because of it.
He’d wanted to make them strong. Fearless.
Putty in his hands.
And then there was Amelia. Vulnerable, confused Amelia.
He had lusted after her from the time he’d been old enough to know the meaning of lust. He closed his eyes and felt her tender touch on his skin. Felt her lips touching his.
Felt her body opening up to him. His thick cock sliding into her. Pumping hard, thrusting over and over until they came.
A medicine cart clanged against a wall, and footsteps pounded the floor. Loud voices and shouts erupted from the end of the hall leading toward the lockdown unit, which held the most dangerous patients.
Seven had been there before they’d moved her to the psychiatric unit in the prison. Word was that she was being transferred back to the sanitarium.
That a special new doctor was coming in to treat her, to see if they could reverse the damage done to her mind.
Was there a way to reverse it?
And if so, could it erase the twisted thoughts in his own head?
A middle-aged nurse with a scowl on her face raced toward the area where the alarms were pealing. She reminded him of Ester Banning and the others who’d tortured him and Amelia.
If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up dead, too.
Chapter Twelve
Rafe and Liz left Lieutenant Maddison and his team to finish processing the area where the victim had been found. As with Ester Banning, the woman had been murdered someplace else and her body dumped into the creek.
If they found the original crime scene, they might learn more about their killer. But that was difficult to do at the moment, with so little to go on.
The killer had an altered genetic structure.
They needed a DNA sample from Truitt for comparison.
That was a lead, Rafe reminded himself, as he and Liz drove toward HomeBound.
Twenty minutes later they entered the office. A friendly redheaded receptionist greeted them. “We need to speak to Mr. Samson.”
“Just a minute.” She pressed an intercom and announced their arrival.
“I’ll be with them in a second,” Samson said.
“How long have you worked here?” Rafe asked the young woman.
She picked at the end of a fake nail. “I just started last week.”
Liz flashed a photo of the latest victim that she’d taken with her camera. Although she had close-up shots of the woman’s mangled face and eyes, she’d taken this shot with the woman’s eyes closed to camouflage her injuries. “Do you recognize this lady?”
The redhead gasped. “Oh, my God, is she dead?”
“Yes—do you know her?” Rafe asked.
The receptionist shook her head. “No. Who is she?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Liz answered. “Her body was found earlier, and we need to identify her.”
“Did you know Ester Banning?” Rafe asked.
Eyes wide, she shook her head again. “No, but I saw her picture on the news.”
Rafe studied her face. “We think the two deaths may be related.”
“What’s going on?” Samson asked from the doorway leading back to his office.
Rafe explained about finding another victim, and Liz showed him the picture. “Do you recognize her?”
“No—should I?”
“We thought she might have worked for you.”
Rafe reminded himself that they had to keep the MO and other details of the crimes quiet, to weed out the crazies who inevitably called in false leads and information.
“She didn’t work for HomeBound,” Mr. Samson said. “It’s unfortunate that the Banning woman was associated with us. When I came on board, I made it a point to carefully check applicants’ references. I understand the dangers of the health care business, and want to provide quality care for our patients.”
“Except that you hired Ester Banning,” Liz said softly.
Samson’s brown eyes flickered with irritation. “I told you we were still checking her references.”
“Actually I did discover something,” the receptionist said meekly. “When I called Dr. Lowens, a psychiatrist who was one of Ester Banning’s references, I found out that he died ten years ago. According to the nurse I spoke with, Ester Banning never worked for him. In fact, the nurse I talked to worked with the doc back then, and remembered Ester because she was so volatile. She was one of his patients.”
Nick Blackwood studied Seven from across the table at the prison. Her feet and hands were cuffed. Cut marks reddened her wrists and arms. A guard stood at the door for Nick’s protection.
His sister was a cold-blooded killer.
She had murdered several men, repeatedly strangling them, then reviving them only to kill them again. She did this because their father, the Commander, had done the same to her as part of his training to make her stronger.
“Hello, Nick.”
Her dark eyes were so much like his and Jake’s that it still tore him up inside to think about how much she’d suffered.
“How are you doing in here?” he asked.
She shrugged, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her face. “Shrinks are having a heyday dissecting my mind.” Laughter erupted from her, shrill and bitter. “They say they’re going to move me back to the sanitarium, that some hotshot doctor from Europe is flying in because he wants to save me.”
Nick arched a brow. “How do you feel about that?”
Seven traced her finger along a scar on her wrist, making him wonder how she’d gotten it. “You think I’m worth saving, Nick? After all, Daddy Dearest didn’t even give me a name, just a number.”
Nick swallowed hard. “Maybe he didn’t name you, but our mother called you Gemma before you were born.”
“Gemma?” Emotions spread across Seven’s face, making her look vulnerable, so young and impossibly hurt that compassion filled Nick.
He nodded. “I was too young to remember Mother being pregnant, but Jake remembered. He said she called you Gemma because you were her first daughter, a precious gem.”
Nick could have sworn he saw tears flicker in his sister’s eyes—eyes that were usually either blank or black with an ugly rage.
“I really have a name,” she said softly, almost reverently.
“Yes,
and our mother wanted you.”
She looked down at the table again as if the dark memories were flooding in. “The Commander said my mother died in childbirth.”
“He wanted you to feel guilty. But he murdered her, then took you and told everyone you were dead.”
A tense heartbeat passed. Nick had no idea what else to say, but even though she’d sadistically killed several men, she deserved the truth. “You got a raw deal being the Commander’s daughter, being put in that experiment. But there’s some good in you somewhere.”
A cynical laugh. “You and Jake got all the goodness, brother dear. Me . . . I’m just like our old man.”
“No, you’re not,” Nick said. “You were a victim. But from now on you’re Gemma, and you can be anything you want to be.”
She cut her eyes downward toward the handcuffs, then seemed to focus on a crude carving another prisoner had scratched into the table. “What fool thinks putting me back in that psycho ward where he hurt me can possibly make me better?”
Nick had no answer for that. “Have you heard from the Commander?”
She shook her head, but an odd look glinted in her eyes. Unfortunately he didn’t understand his sister, didn’t know her well enough to predict her behavior.
He only knew she couldn’t be trusted.
“No. But I’m sure he has plans.”
“What plans?”
“Who knows? He wasn’t in a sharing mood the last time I saw him.”
“But you have an idea,” Nick said calmly.
Seven pivoted, crossed her legs, and looked him straight in the eyes. “I think he answers to someone else. Someone who wanted him out of jail to keep him from divulging who really headed that project.”
“It wasn’t Senator Stowe?” Her twisted look made him wonder if she could be saved. “Who else was involved?”
She pressed a finger over her lips as if mimicking turning a key, indicating that she’d locked the secret in the vault.
“Did you know Ester Banning?” he asked, hoping to throw her off balance by changing the subject.
A flicker of surprise on her face suggested she hadn’t expected the question. “Why? Is she dead?”