“It was definitely premeditated. That was the one thing that has my partner and Commissioner Anders holding onto this one. Your brother planned to see your mother. They figured why not just plan her murder too?”
“Beau isn’t a killer. Your suspect is going to be a little off his rocker. He bludgeoned a woman to death, and likely called it in to frame my brother. This was planned.”
He didn’t disagree.
She was good at this. He’d thought the same thing when he did the walk through.
“So, how did he escape, and right before your brother arrived? He said he sat outside and finished his coffee. The cameras in the coffee shop have him there a tiny bit before eight thirty. That means the killer could have been in here still. That’s cutting it close.”
“The bathroom window was unlocked.”
“So, he or she went out that way, where there were no cameras or any traffic. Which means, again, premeditated. If this was heat of the moment, he would have been dazed, scared, and not thinking straight.”
“True,” he admitted.
Tori continued, “This killer wanted her dead for a reason. She was bludgeoned, left in her blood, and suffered in her last moments. This killer was angry, and he isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”
He waited. “Why?”
“He intentionally wanted my brother to suffer. He could have not called it in, and when my brother got here, it might have been a different outcome. Dive motel, Shelby Christensen the money grubbing bitch, and drugs in her room…as a cop, what does that scream to you?”
“Drug robbery. They happen in this area all the time.”
“Yeah, and granted it was only twenty bucks, but that, and the small amount of weed would have been the perfect way to hide her death in a sea of other drug related ones.”
He didn’t think of it that way.
“Maybe she was selling drugs,” Arsen offered. “If it looks like a drug buy gone bad, and smells like a drug buy gone bad, it probably is a drug buy that went south.”
She didn’t disagree.
“But he left behind the pot,” Arsen stated. “No druggie is going to do that. They take EVERYTHING. She only had a couple ounces of weed. That’s maybe ten bucks on the street.”
Tori realized that Arsen was missing part of the picture.
“She also had a whole shitload of oxycodone in her bloodwork. Did you find any here?”
He paused. “Wait, what?”
“Your ME did bloodwork, like they’re supposed to do. She had narcotics in her blood, but none were found here. Shelby had stage four pancreatic cancer. She was on her last month of life. She had to be in horrible pain, and you know doctors are pill pushers. She likely had a prescription. Where are they?”
He didn’t know.
Arsen, in his attempt to figure them out, had missed that in the evidence.
Shit!
He’d dropped the ball.
“The question is now, did a tech steal them, or did a killer take them? They weren’t on my brother when the cops caught him holding his mother.”
This was one more detail in his column. Had he killed her, and stolen her drugs, they would have found them on him.
They didn’t.
Arsen had to be honest. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, that’s an issue. We need to figure that out too,” Tori wanted to catch him off guard, since she could see him cracking and leaning their way.
They needed his help.
He was on the inside.
“Who was on her cell?”
He could answer that but he knew what she was doing. He was a cop too. He could play the game.
“You show me what you have, and I’ll think about playing nice.”
Tori laughed. She’d gotten all she was going to get by being sneaky, tricky, and an ex-Fed.
It was time to do a deal.
Julian cleared his throat. He knew this was going to happen. “We’ll play ball, but only if you keep our names out of it. After we solve this, we don’t want anyone to know of our involvement.”
“You don’t want the world to know you solved it?” he asked. “Really? You don’t want to be the heroes?”
“NO!” they all said together.
Julian continued, “And anything you see here, or hear, is off the record. We can work together, but at the finish line, we walk away. You get the accolades. We just get Beau off of this bogus arrest.”
That was more than fair. In fact, that worked better for him than for them, but he wouldn’t force them to do anything they didn’t want. They had to have their reasons.
The man held out his hand.
Julian took it.
“Deal.”
“Tori, continue,” Julian stated, now that it was negotiated and in the books.
“Did Beau tell you about the man he heard on the phone?” she asked.
“Yeah, and I ran the numbers in her cell. She had one hell of a call list. Some I could find, and some I haven’t. Now, whether that’s intentional or not…?”
“Will you share?”
“Yes.”
Tori was glad the man was going to keep his word. She needed to work this case, for her and for Beau.
Shelby…she was a lost cause.
“I want to see your guy do his thing,” Arsen said, pointing at Beckett. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but if he can do what he says he can do, that might give me something.”
“You’re stuck,” Tori stated. “That’s why you let me have the files and followed Vivian. You have nothing.”
“Guilty as charged, ma’am. I needed a catalyst, and you…well, you’re it. Granted, I feel like I walked into the Twilight Zone.”
She got it.
Tori would have done the same thing.
“Beckett can do his thing,” she offered, “but you keep it quiet. His gift is brutal.”
The man didn’t get it, but he’d play by their rules. “I just want to see him in action.”
“Well, don’t I feel like some cheap parlor trick?” Beckett muttered, as he mentally prepared himself for what was coming. This was going to be hellish.
He could tell.
“I have you,” Claire whispered, as she stared up into his eyes. “I will pull you back.”
He pulled off his gloves a second time. When the cop was watching him, he explained, “They protect me from accidentally reading something. With my gift, I can’t shut it on or off. I’m live, waiting to touch some things, twenty-four-seven.”
This whole thing was fascinating. Arsen was curious by nature, and this was something new. This piqued something in him that he couldn’t help but want to watch.
Did life exist after death?
He was dying to know.
“Okay, let’s start,” Beckett said, releasing the breath he’d been holding.
Claire moved closer to his body.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Hell no!
This always hurt.
It always scared him.
And he always wanted to skip it.
But this was for the family. Beckett knew that intentionally allowing himself to fall into a death scene was risky.
He could get trapped.
He could be overwhelmed.
He could…die.
“Yeah, I’m ready, baby.”
Beckett kneeled on the disgusting old carpet and Claire moved to stand behind him. She was so close, he could smell her perfume, but he couldn’t feel her.
It was perfect.
She was his safety net.
“We have you, Beck,” Julian offered. “Get it done and come back to us.”
Oh, that was the damn plan.
He didn’t want to linger in a murder. That was way low on his list of favorite things to do. It was right below getting chased by an ax-wielding killer.
“I’m going in.”
Gently, he lowered his hand to the dried blood. It hovered just above it, and he knew this was g
oing to suck seven ways to Sunday.
There was so much energy, and it was already threatening to pull him under.
“Someone call for a tetanus. I’m going to need it,” he admitted, assuming he’d need one when this was done. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let me fall face first into this mess.”
Julian moved to stand right in front of him in case he fell forward. Claire had him if he went backward, Tori was watching the invisible dead race around the room, and she was praying this didn’t go bad.
They didn’t need that.
“Here we go. Hopefully, I see you again.”
Beckett placed his hand on the carpet, and immediately, the whole world around him began sliding away. It was like a spiral of gray, black, and white, pulling him under, like water going down a drain.
He couldn’t fight it.
Beckett tried to focus, but it wasn’t easy.
He was sucked back further than a week. Around him, there was so much sex, screaming, and orgasms, that he covered his ears and tried to hang on. At least they weren’t being killed.
There was his silver lining.
Beckett forced himself to stare into the blur of memories as they whipped past him in a frenetic fast forward.
Women were everywhere.
They shouted.
They wept.
They sold their bodies to make a living.
Beckett had to tune in to Shelby. He had to search her out, locating her in the cacophony of memories.
It wasn’t easy.
Then he found her.
The rest fell away.
There was Shelby. She was sitting at the small table in the corner, and she was making a list. Beckett focused on her, and she didn’t look good. She was pale, gaunt, and the cancer was winning. She didn’t have much time. Around her, there was a death halo.
She was laughing.
Smoking.
Counting money.
He could see her flipping through some papers but not what was on them. It looked like a little book of sorts.
Beckett watched as the scene moved in slow motion for him as he took in all the details. He observed Shelby as she made notes, made a phone call, and then back to the notes once more.
She was smiling.
She looked evil.
The woman was her true self, even in death.
Beckett held the scene the best he could. It wasn’t easy. It was draining him, but he needed more for the team.
Then she looked up at him.
Well, she looked right through him.
Shelby moved slowly toward the door, her body taxed by the sickness growing in her.
She was weak.
She was decaying from the inside out.
He could smell death there with them.
Beckett waited. He watched. He hoped he’d see the killer’s face. It sometimes happened.
Not always, but he had to have hope. He didn’t want to take another trip later.
Beckett slowed it down even more as she opened the door. There was a bright light behind the visitor, and he had to squint to see him. It came from the lights in the parking lot.
Damn it!
Beckett needed more. He focused on what he could see, and it gave him a little to give the team.
There was the killer.
White.
Male.
Young.
The room shifted as her laughter pulled the memory back to its original speed. Beckett was forced to focus on Shelby. She was talking, smiling wickedly, and she was almost gloating.
Then she held out her hand.
The visitor was shaking. Beckett could feel the rage, but still, he placed the money in her outstretched palm.
He was curious to see what it was for, but when Shelby turned around to place it on the table, that’s when he struck.
Beckett could see the pipe. It glinted in the dull light of the room.
Now came his least favorite part.
He was going to live it.
Beckett could feel the pain of her being hit over and over again. He could hear the crunch of her skull. He could feel the pipe hitting his own body as he fell to his knees at the same time she did.
Beckett could taste blood coating his mouth as it ran down the back of his throat.
He could feel his teeth going through his tongue.
His initial gut reaction was to stay to see the killer’s face, but Beckett couldn’t do it.
If he didn’t get out, he wouldn’t.
Beckett could feel death looming around him, her, and the whole room.
It was now or never.
“Claire!” he screamed.
He could feel the light surrounding him. Beckett could feel her mouth moving over his. He clung to that. He tried to focus on her against him.
Not the death.
Not the destruction.
Not the way Shelby had died.
When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on the floor, and his back was against the bed. Claire was in his lap, and she was stroking his face. His hands were under her shirt, resting safely on her hips. The soft flesh offered him an escape. There were no bad memories attached to Claire.
She was home.
She was his anchor.
“Are you okay?” Claire asked.
“I’m back.”
That said it all, and everyone in the room knew it. He looked worn down.
No, that was an understatement.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Well?” Detective Woods asked, moving closer to the man out of curiosity. He’d watched him stare into the blood, as if by a trance, and then he appeared to have something that looked like a seizure. He wasn’t under too long, but now would come time to see if he was full of shit.
“It wasn’t pretty,” he muttered. The taste of blood was gone, but he was still shaky.
He would be for a little while until the after effects kicked in, and he became hypersensitive to every single thing. He would need Claire in the worst way.
“I bet. What did you see?” Arsen asked, crouching down near the man, but not touching him.
He told them everything. From the moment Shelby made the call to the moment she took her last breath at the hands of a pipe wielding murderer.
Still, the man didn’t look convinced.
“That could be speculation. Plus, you already had the autopsy report. How am I supposed to know if you didn’t just make all of that up?”
There was one thing not in the ME’s report. He knew because he had read it earlier.
“Her tongue was cut. She bit into it,” Beckett stated. “From the amount of blood, it felt like she nearly bit it off.”
That was news to him. If that did happen, it wasn’t in the autopsy report. Yes, it said wounds to the tongue, but bit off?
No, that wasn’t in it.
Arsen pulled out his phone and made a call to his ME for more details. As he waited for the man to come on the line, he watched them.
Tori and Claire were talking to the downed man, and Julian was standing protectively beside them, watching over his people. From the looks on their faces, they were concerned. Apparently, what Beckett did was worrisome.
That made him curious too.
“Doctor Banks, the Christensen victim—did she have any injuries to her mouth?”
He waited.
The entire time, he was holding his breath.
“Yes, she did. I noted it on the autopsy report.”
Yeah, Arsen was aware. “I saw that, but it’s not really specific. Can you elaborate for me? It has wounds due to extreme duress. What does that mean?”
“As the victim was being attacked, she bit down so hard that she severed her tongue.”
Shit!
He’d been right.
There was something to this after all.
“It was hanging on by a thread. I found it partially lodged in her throat. It’s a miracle she didn’t choke on it.”
Arsen was gross
ed out. “Uh, Doc, she was beat to death. I think that was the least of her worries.”
He laughed. “Yes, you have a point.”
“Okay, thank you,” he offered before hanging up. People who played in the dead were definitely a little off center. Here was his proof.
Arsen focused on Beckett. “I believe you.”
“Gee, thanks,” he muttered. “Here I was worried I wouldn’t impress you with my skills.”
“Someone has a bad attitude,” Arsen stated. “I had to double check what you said. I’m a cop.”
“I was a cop. I get it.”
Arsen hoped so. He didn’t want to offend any of them, but if they looked at it from his perspective, they might see how INSANE all of this was for him.
“And this man you saw. Describe him.”
“White, male, and young. That’s all I got from him. I didn’t get to see his face. He was blocked.”
“So, someone say…Beau’s age?”
Tori tensed.
“Around that age, but it wasn’t Beau.”
“How do you know?” Detective Woods asked. He refused to exclude anyone from this mess. He was going to do his job as a good cop and find the killer.
Beckett glanced over at him. Yes, he could lie, but instead, he went with the one thing he did recognize as different.
“He was wearing a stainless-steel watch. The diving kind with the really big face. It was pricy. It was also on his right hand. Your killer is a leftie.”
Okay, that was something to work with, and Arsen knew it. “If you saw it again.”
“Yeah, I could recognize it. The hands were pointing at seven fifty. I could see the time. He attacked her before eight, and she died after.”
In a way, that helped too. It gave them a little more of Shelby’s timeline.
Tori knew what that meant. “Yes, before you ask, Beau has a diving watch, but he wasn’t wearing it. He rarely wears that one. He was wearing a leather strapped watch that I gave him for his birthday. He stopped wearing the military grade one after he met Nyx. He said it kept getting caught in her hair.”
Was it enough to clear him?
No, but it was enough to give Arsen some reassurance. This was one more lead that was dying. The pieces didn’t fit.
Arsen went all in.
“Yeah, okay, so let’s say that clears him. What’s next?” he asked.
“I need those phone numbers,” Tori stated. “Once I get them, we’ll start working this case.”
Kiss of Souls Page 10