Deep as the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  “Did he introduce himself?”

  The man cocked his head. “Anas. Anos. Anis. I think he said Anis. Anis Tera.”

  A hard clutch of nerves tangled in Alexa’s belly. The UNSUB had used the same name when he’d contacted Simard. The offender had to know they’d come to talk to Reisman. He must be confident there was no way to tie the alias to his true identity. Certainly, the team’s attempts to do so had been unsuccessful. But the alias was important to him; it closely entwined the insect predator he emulated with his own acts.

  “You say he was here around two?”

  Reisman answered Ethan sullenly. “I said about then. I don’t know precisely. We spoke a while out here before I invited him inside.”

  A serial killer had elicited an invitation to step inside Reisman’s home. His wife’s daughter had been met with vitriol. The irony was jarring.

  “What did he look like?” she asked. She hadn’t looked forward to this meeting, and she desperately wanted it over now.

  Reisman shrugged. “Not that tall. Maybe this high.” He touched his shoulder. Alexa made a mental measurement. That would make the offender no more than five feet six inches, which contradicted the five feet eight inches two other witnesses had pegged him at.

  “What color was his hair?”

  “Blond, I think.”

  She and Ethan exchanged a glance. “Thomas.” Alexis deliberately gentled her voice. “I don’t remember you wearing glasses.”

  “Macular degeneration,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t see a man sitting not three feet away from me.”

  Depending on the progression of the disease, it could mean exactly that. “Did you see him get into a car?”

  He shook his head definitely. “I walked him to the door and he thanked me for my time, and shared a Bible verse with me. And then I watched him walk away. He didn’t get into a vehicle.”

  “Which way did he go?”

  In answer to Ethan’s question Reisman pointed east, but his gaze settled on Alexa. “He wanted to know all about you and I told him. Every bit. All your sins. Your willful lack of repentance.” His smile was sly. “I don’t believe he left here with a very good impression of you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  There is none righteous; no, not one. —Romans 3:10

  Anis Tera lingered over his breakfast of coffee and a sweet pastry. This was one of those times that it was a blessing to have the sort of face that blended into a crowd. Today, he wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, on top of a scraggly brown wig that hung below his earlobes. The patchy mustache and goatee were itchy, but in service to the Lord, sacrifices must be made.

  Today’s treat was a rare indulgence for him. Over the top of his newspaper he watched people in the coffee shop bustle about with their orders, finding places to sit with friends or family. A few of them, like him, were alone. He approved of that. Only those who weren’t at peace with themselves feared solitude.

  There was a big splashy news article about Jeanette Lawler’s body being discovered, followed by a few smaller ones filled with juicy tidbits from her sordid show. Anis read the first article carefully. There was mention of a canine unit, and a professional photo of Lawler, along with a plea for anyone who’d seen her last night to call a police line.

  He pursed his lips as he considered the development. It had happened before, over the years, and the tactic had yielded nothing. Given the crowd in the club and the pains he’d taken with his appearance, Anis wasn’t worried.

  He picked up the pastry and bit into with relish. At first he’d lived in fear of being found out, but his paranoia had long since dissipated. He’d had some close calls with his subjects a time or two, but never with the police. He’d thought he was lucky until the truth had been revealed to him: The Lord was paving the way for Anis’s holy work.

  Still, care had to be taken. Anis worried about whether he’d overstepped caution yesterday. He’d never tarried after a mission like he was now. There had never been a reason. Alexa Hayden had changed everything.

  So, he’d had to change, as well.

  Sipping from his to-go cup, he contemplated the actions he’d taken yesterday. Dangerous, but he’d mitigated the risk. The van had been safely stowed away while it was still dark, and he’d switched vehicles before returning to Truro. He’d stayed away from cameras and had only been seen by a kid and an old man, neither of whom would be good witnesses. And what could they tell the police, anyway? That they’d spoken to a man decades older than Anis. Wearing clothes he’d already thrown away.

  No. The police would yip excitedly about the sightings, but in the end, they’d have nothing new. The risk was balanced by what he’d gained—information on Alexa Hayden.

  A small smile tilted his lips. Had she gasped when she’d seen his gift to her? Had she realized his power? The police would test the container, of course. And they’d find prints. Possibly DNA. But both would belong to the person who’d thrown the to-go box in the Dumpster for him to fish out. His smile grew at the thought of them wasting labor and time testing the container. Possibly chasing down the poor sap who’d discarded it and hauling him in.

  Licking the last of the pastry frosting from his fingers, he reached for a napkin, looking idly out the window while he wiped his fingers. He froze. The street beyond the sidewalk outside was busy. But there was a van very much like his pulled to a stop beside the opposite curb. A patrol car, lights still flashing, was parked behind it, and a uniformed officer was approaching the driver’s window.

  His heart beat faster. Coincidence? He might have thought so had he not passed a similar scene on his way back to Halifax yesterday. He couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility that the police might have a description of his van.

  How? There was no way to know. But he hadn’t remained free this long by ignoring warning signs such as these. He’d been spooked when Simard had looked right at him when he’d been surveilling the man. He’d seemed to recognize Anis despite the simple disguise he’d been wearing. After that, he’d rented a car and started adopting a different appearance.

  Now those precautions appeared serendipitous. A signal of the Lord’s hand directing his actions.

  He’d have to leave the van behind when he left Nova Scotia. The thought was accompanied by a pang, one he immediately shoved aside. He’d salvage the contents he could carry in the car, but he’d burn the Econoline and the magnetic signs he’d used on it, destroying any chance the police could get evidence from the vehicle even if they happened to look.

  How long had they had the description of the van? Perhaps remaining in the province longer than he normally would had saved him from detection. If so, he had Alexa Hayden to thank for that.

  Alexa. He picked up his cup, drank slowly. It was her job to try to understand him, and yes, that gave him a thrill. Now he understood her, as well. While it was disappointing that she’d rejected a solid godly upbringing, he was used to discovering that the most innocent facades masked hideous sinners. He was prepared to offer her a chance at redemption. Plans to that end were already taking shape. She’d be wise to take the opportunity he’d offer. For penance. For peace.

  Because if she didn’t… He drained his cup. Set it down and got up from the table. If she refused the light, he’d have no choice but to condemn her to darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The interview with Reisman was sort of a bust.” Ethan slanted a glance at Alexa, who seemed too still, too damn pale to his eye. The man was a snake, and it’d been all Ethan could do to allow him to spit his venom at Alexa. In the end, little new information had been revealed, so the scene had been unnecessary. She’d suffered too many hits, coming too fast together. He didn’t doubt her strength; he knew better than most what she’d been through. But even the strongest person had a breaking point.

  She shook her head. “Nothing that gives us a new perspective on the offender is wasted. Reisman revealed far more to the UNSUB than he gleaned i
n their meeting, that’s true enough. But I’m stuck on the comment Anis Tera made about having a family.”

  Ethan glanced at the clock on the dash. They wouldn’t make Lawler’s autopsy. He’d known that. But Nyle had gone and hopefully they’d hit the tail end of it. “Isn’t that just something he’d say to get Reisman comfortable? Like the way he spouted Bible verses.”

  She turned a bit in her seat to face him, her expression becoming more animated. “Yes, very possibly. But most people couldn’t have gone to see the man on a pretense and done the same. Few are familiar enough with random Bible quotes to use them as freely as he did when he spoke to Reisman. So today wasn’t a waste. It verified my belief that the UNSUB uses religion to condone his behavior. That he steeps himself him a faith-based system. I think he may have been raised in a family that adhered to a strict religious upbringing. He got the foundation from somewhere, before he perverted it into a rationalization he uses now.”

  “So, was he blowing smoke about having a family?”

  “I can’t be sure,” she admitted, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. She’d worn it down today. With her hair loosened, she seemed younger. More vulnerable. He had a feeling that she’d been running late this morning. Maybe she hadn’t slept well last night. God knew, he hadn’t.

  A slow heat bloomed low in his gut and he shifted uncomfortably. Ethan had gotten used to living his life by the book the last few years. Life had thrown him enough curves that he’d come to welcome some predictability. But there’d been nothing predictable about his response to her last night. Nothing expected about him throwing caution to the winds and diving headlong into the fire.

  Maybe he could have forgiven himself the lapse had he discovered that the chemistry had been inflated by memory. That the intervening years had burned it out.

  Maybe—his hands clenched on the wheel—she could have pulled away. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d kissed him back. And that had sealed his complete loss of reason.

  “A-and…you didn’t hear a thing I said.”

  He looked at her blankly. “What?”

  Her lips curved. “Do you still zone out thinking about hockey statistics, or is your mind on the case?”

  He seized on the excuse she’d offered. “Just thinking it was wise for us to talk to Reisman’s neighbors after we left his house. The lady two doors down gave a description of the UNSUB as he walked away that was a lot closer to the one we got from the kid yesterday. What were you saying?”

  “You asked if I thought the offender really had a family. I wouldn’t give the remark a lot of credence, given the context in which it was made. But it does raise an interesting question.”

  “Not all serial offenders are lonesome losers without a support system in place.”

  Her brows shot up. “Someone’s been paying attention. Yes, you’re right. This offender is perfectly capable of juggling two lives and keeping them separate. I don’t have an opinion on whether or not he has a family. There’s just not enough information.”

  And that, Ethan thought, as he pulled into the parking lot for the Burnside morgue in Halifax, could be the summary of the case so far against this offender. Maybe Dr. Conrad could give them a few more details.

  The skull on Jeanette Lawler’s body was being sewn up by one of Conrad’s techs when Ethan and Alexa entered the autopsy suite. Nyle and the ME were hunched over something at the back counter. The officer sent a look over his shoulder. “Didn’t think you were going to make it.” He searched their faces. “Learn anything important?”

  “Nothing we didn’t already know.” Like the UNSUB’s obsession with Alexa was causing him to take the sort of risks he’d avoided throughout his criminal career. Which told Ethan that the offender had much more in mind for her than a few communications. It was exactly that fear that had him wanting to keep her in the background of the investigation, despite Gagnon’s wishes.

  She brushed by Ethan with the laptop and briefcase she’d grabbed from the front seat to join the men in back. “What’d you find in the victim’s mouth?”

  “She was minus her tongue, which Officer Samuels informed me you already knew about.” Conrad looked at her over the top of the glasses perched on his nose. “That’s a very personal message the killer sent to you. What do you think he was trying to tell you?”

  “I assume he wants to go steady.”

  “You need to take his focus on you seriously,” Ethan said, more sharply than he intended. The two other men nodded soberly.

  Alexa blew out a breath and set her laptop on the counter. Booted it up. “He wanted to get my attention. Sending the tongue to me was him showing off. ‘Look at what I can do. See my power?’ So, when I go on TV today, I’ll acknowledge that power. Play to his ego. And do everything I can to continue to draw him out. Because the more risks he takes, the more likely it is that he’ll screw up.”

  Conrad stared at Ethan. “I trust your men will see to her safety.”

  “That’s the plan.” One meeting with Alexa and even the recalcitrant ME’s protective instincts had risen to the surface. Giving a mental head shake, Ethan came to a stop behind her. There was something about her that drew men in, had them rising to her defense. And she was as oblivious to that trait now as she’d been as a girl.

  “You received the organ? I sent it over yesterday from Truro.”

  Conrad nodded. “DNA tests will be run, of course, but the cutting marks match. It’d been removed by a small sharp blade. A scalpel perhaps. Or possibly a skinning and caping knife. It’s not especially easy to cut the tongue out. Hence the slicing, chopping and sawing marks I found. I found a contusion on her scalp beneath her hair, on the left rear portion of the skull. Not nearly as much force used for the head wound compared to the first victim you brought me.”

  “Because she was already impaired by alcohol, maybe,” Nyle put in. He moved aside to allow Alexa more room.

  “Or she was weaker and less difficult to overpower.” Ethan positioned himself to Alexa’s left. The familiar dragonfly was lying on a sterile cloth in front of her. But it was the contents of the glassine bag she held that he was interested in. She used a pair of forceps to withdraw one insect from it and laid it beside the dragonfly. Conrad handed her a magnifying glass.

  “Jesus,” Ethan muttered. He couldn’t get used to the nonchalant way she handled the bugs. And this was a big one even without the magnification. Not that he was squeamish about that sort of thing. “Is that some sort of cockroach?”

  “Looks like a relative of the grasshopper,” Nyle observed, peering closely.

  “Your guess is closer than Ethan’s. It’s a good-sized specimen,” Alexa set the glass down and sent Ethan a sly smile, half-lifting the paper towel the bug rested on toward him. “Did you want a closer look?”

  He remained rooted in place, but it took effort not to move away. “Brat. What is that thing?”

  “Anabrus simplex. The common name is Mormon cricket, but it’s actually a katydid, not a cricket at all. They’re flightless, except when they’re craving protein and salt, during which time they swarm and are quite destructive to crops.” She reached into her briefcase and took out her reading glasses, putting them on before leaning forward and bringing up several articles about the insects, clicking out of each before he was even half way done skimming it. “Found in the range areas of North America. Ah.”

  She went silent then, long enough for Nyle to say, “Well?”

  “They’re known to cannibalize members of their own species, usually, again, when craving protein and salt. The slowest and weakest, of course, are the likeliest candidates.” She tapped an index finger thoughtfully against the counter.

  “Well, that sort of makes sense, given the removal of the tongue.” When everyone looked at Nyle, he flushed. “I mean…given Lawler’s profession. She was known for inviting high-profile controversial guests and then pulling the rug out from under them during the show. That’s predatory behavior, if you ask me.”

/>   “You have to consider how the UNSUB would view it.” Ethan looked at Alexa. “He wouldn’t have sympathy for the type of guests Lawler had on. Few people would. So, I don’t see this as retribution for her treating people unkindly on her show.”

  “The Mormon crickets prey on the slowest and weakest among their species,” she repeated. Then went silent for a moment as if thinking. Finally, she said, “I don’t know if the UNSUB is saying Lawler secretly preyed on other people in some way, or on females in particular. But whatever her perceived sin, he saw it as worthy of death.”

  Ethan looked at the ME. “Sorry for hijacking the procedure here.”

  The man waved a hand. “I’ll admit to being a bit fascinated. I had an insect collection when I was a kid.” That was actually a thing? Ethan wisely swallowed the question as the man went on. “As I was telling Officer Samuels earlier, tox screens will take a couple of days, but Lawler’s blood alcohol level was two point oh three, which is well beyond the legal definition of impairment. She ate approximately six hours prior to her death, which may be when she consumed the wine she drank.”

  “Most of the clubs closed at three-thirty. A few at four,” Ethan said. And they’d missed her at every one of them.

  “Like Simard, her hands had been treated with bleach and the nails clipped.” Dr. Conrad strode back to the stainless-steel table on which Lawler’s corpse laid. “No defensive wounds are present. Manner of death is unclear.”

  “So she didn’t die from having her tongue cut out.”

  “It’s possible a person could die from having the lingual artery severed, if that person had no assistance and was unable to stem the bleeding. However, the removal of the tongue occurred only minutes before death.” Conrad leaned down to inspect the sutures around the skull, before straightening again. “As your colleague will tell you, I found three sets of numbers written on her shoulder in what appears to be ink from a pen. Two of the numerals were worn off.”