“No. But we’re getting closer,” she lied.
He studied her again, nodding to himself. She wondered if he could see through it. Cops were good at sniffing out lies.
“So tell me, Ben,” she said. “What are your thoughts on our killer? Who do you think it is?”
He studied her again, as though checking whether her question was serious or not.
She shrugged. “You know the town and the people. What’s your take on things?”
Holt shrugged back, finished the last of his fries, and washed them down with a mouthful of soda. “Well, he’s a sick son of a bitch, that’s for sure. Doing that in our town, of all places.”
Salvi eyed him. “You think he lives local?”
Holt seemed to consider this as he sipped his drink. “Local enough.”
“Local enough? You sound like you already have a theory?”
Holt shrugged and pushed his plate to the side, then folded his arms on the table. “I got the same suspicions as you.”
“Which are?”
“Well, you’ve been out to the Solme Complex a few times, right? Gotta be a reason for that.”
“We’re simply following up witness leads.”
“And what better lead is there than a bunch of rapists, murderers and serial killers living on our doorstep.”
Salvi knocked back her second drink. “You’re really not a fan of the Complex, are you?”
“Why would I be?” he said, taking another sip of his soda. “Bountiful is my territory. It’s my job to enforce the law and keep people safe. How the hell can I do that, with those animals living there?”
“Have you ever had any trouble from them?” she asked.
“Well, no,” he said, “but it was bound to happen. Sooner or later one of them was going to crack, and now they have. I tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Who wouldn’t listen?”
“The damn council! But Attis Solme had the money and the influence, so the regular folk of Bountiful were ignored.”
“You voted against the Complex?”
“Yes, I did.” He took another drink. “What am I, stupid? Bountiful has always been nice and quiet. I’ve lived there for years. Now look at this!” He leaned forward over the table and stabbed his index finger as though banging a gavel. “This would never have happened if they hadn’t allowed those monsters into town! It was one thing having the Complex close by, but to let them out among us?”
Salvi poured another drink. “A lot of people like the Serenes, though. They say they’re doing a lot of good for the town.”
“I don’t care.” He shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned a leopard don’t change his spots. I’ve worked this job long enough to know that. I wasn’t always the sheriff of a sleepy religious town, you know. I did my city time. Sacramento.” He finished the rest of his soda. “Those Subjugates and Serenes hang around the church where two of those women went. And the third? Well, she was a purveyor of sin. I guess that was bound to happen. With everyone else being cautious and staying indoors, she was the only fresh meat left on the market.”
Salvi sat back in her chair, the bite of his words stinging her a little.
“You think that’s fair?” she asked.
“What?”
“Talking about her like that? She was a single mother doing what she could to feed, clothe and house her son.”
Holt looked at her with a plain face. “There are plenty of jobs that she could’ve done. She chose to earn it on her back.”
“Well, men are prepared to pay a lot more for sex than they are for someone bagging groceries or cleaning their house. Can you blame her?”
“Yeah,” he said standing, and pulling out his wallet, “I can.” He shook his head. “I told the preacher about this, you know. Bountiful has been going downhill for a while now. At the start it was just us religious folk, but bit by bit the normals have been moving in and setting up house. Why? Because it’s cheap and we have all that free labor with the Serenes. But that’s just the problem, you see. People want the cheap houses and the free labor, but they don’t want to live by our rules. They don’t believe in God. They say they do, but they don’t. They’re outright liars and they should not be allowed in town. But Vowker thinks he can save them, thinks he can turn them. Attis too. I say they can’t. Why? Because a leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
She downed her third drink while he threw his money down on the table. He studied her a moment and held out his hands.
“Wanna give me your keys?”
She looked at his opened hand. “Why?”
“I’ve just watched you down several drinks. You are not allowed to drive.”
“Thanks, but I’ll hold onto my own keys,” she said. “And, ah, here in the big bad city, in our cars, we have this thing called autodrive.”
“Autodrive is still illegal if you’re intoxicated, Detective. You need to be of sound mind to set the controls correctly. I’m sure you know this.”
“We also have autocabs, the Cylin trains, tuk-tuks–”
He pointed a finger at her. “I catch you driving, Detective, I will arrest you.”
She smiled back at him. “You’re outside your jurisdiction, Sheriff. I’m sure you know this. Why are you here again?”
His brow furrowed as he stared at her, then he shook his head and walked away.
Salvi watched him leave, mind ticking over, then poured herself another drink.
Her iPort signaled an incoming call. It was Mitch. She contemplated not answering it but figured she ought to. After all, if he really wanted to, he would just trace her iPort again and find her anyway. Besides, wasn’t it better to meet in a crowded place?
She engaged her lenses. “I’m still waiting for my coffee.”
“Where are you?” he asked. He looked to be standing in the hub.
“McClusky’s bar.”
“We’ve got our third vic and you’re drinking?” he asked.
“You of all people are saying this to me?”
“Salvi, we need to talk. I’ll meet you there.”
Waiting for Mitch, Salvi had now downed five shots. She didn’t know why she was doing this. Knew it was a stupid thing to do. Drinking wasn’t her. This, being a mess, wasn’t her. Not any more. Not for a long time. But she just had too much swimming around in her brain. She was tired and needed a buffer from thinking about the case. And truth be told she wanted to numb the thoughts that put Mitch on her list of potential suspects. That’s what bothered her the most. He was her partner; she was supposed to be able to trust him with her life. But who was he really? Could he have done those things to the vics? Could he have done it to his own girlfriend? Surely not. She’d worked with him for almost four months. He was the guy that brought her coffee every morning.
But how many people had she heard that from before. He was always such a nice, polite, young man…
Mitch was the guy who’d traced her iPort to find out where she was.
She felt a sense of betrayal, that her partner could’ve been the one doing this all along. That she hadn’t picked up on it. She’d always prided herself in judging someone’s character. But was she really feeling betrayal, that he could be the one? Or was it a wounded sense of pride, that she’d been wrong about him? That she’d failed in her duty to recognize him? That in her quest for privacy, she’d failed to find out who her partner really was.
That she’d been weak. That something else deep down inside had caused a lapse in judgment. Something that she didn’t even want to look at. She recalled him, once again, cupping her cheek and running his thumb over her lips, parting them.
He suddenly slid into the other side of the booth, breaking her thoughts. She poured her sixth shot.
“What’s got into you?” he asked, studying her as she downed it. He grabbed the bottle and her glass when she was done and poured one for himself.
“Nothing,” she said, feeling the alcohol warm her all over, easing
the tightness in her muscles.
“You don’t drink, Salvi,” he said, studying her with his dark green eyes. “You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, then gave a half smile. “You look relaxed for once. Last night it was the club, tonight it’s here.”
She didn’t answer, just felt the glow of the alcohol as it sheltered her, began to cocoon her.
He downed his shot and studied her again. “Relaxed but troubled. And drunk. What’s up?”
She gave a laugh. “What’s up? We have a serial killer out there, Mitch.” She stared at him, analyzing him as best she could. “A sick, twisted, fuck.”
“Yes, he is.”
They stared at each other across the table.
“You said you wanted to talk?” she asked, glancing around the bar. Through the front window she saw Holt’s police car drive by. Wondered what he’d been doing outside all this time. Had he seen Mitch arrive?
First Bander in the city, now Holt. And then there was Remmell earlier that day…
“You first,” he said.
“You called me.”
“You’re the one acting out of character.”
“Acting out of character?” She laughed, almost bitterly. “You know nothing about me, Mitch.”
“No, I don’t,” he said, pouring another drink and downing it. “So, tell me. Why’d you change your name?”
“Why did you look me up?” she blurted. “Why did you search me? That’s called stalking, you know?”
“I told you. You play your cards close to your chest. I was curious. The preacher got to you. I wanted to know why.” He shrugged. “I’m a detective. Call it a bad habit.”
“You invaded my privacy.”
He shrugged again. “Maybe I did. So why did you change your name from Salvation Brenttanovich? Why did that preacher get to you? Why has this case gotten to you?”
“This case has gotten to you too, Mitch. Don’t make this all about me.”
“People tend to legally change their name because they’re hiding from something or someone, or they’re ashamed of something. So which is it, Salvi?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“You’re my partner, Salvi. And this,” he motioned to the bottle, “isn’t you. This case, the preacher, it’s got under your skin and turned you upside down. Whatever it is, just let it out so you can move on.”
She stared at him through the blanket of vodka coddling her; felt her cheeks flush warm and pink. She wanted to yell at him, tell him he was the reason she was drinking. But she didn’t. She pictured Hernandez’s face, then Stan’s. Stan’s face looked at her calmly, his eyes pleading for her to be a police officer, to find the evidence she needed to catch this killer. To follow her gut.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll tell you why, if you tell me about the prostitute you were with last night.”
Mitch paused, and his face fell. “What prostitute?”
“Our third vic,” she said leaning forward on the table. “You were with her last night and she was found dead this morning.”
Mitch said nothing at first, just stared at her. “Riverton scanned the station footage?”
“No,” Salvi said. “You traced me to the bar, so I followed you afterward. I saw you, Mitch. I saw her get inside your car and I saw you hand over money.”
He lowered his head, running his hand through his hair as he exhaled long and slow. He looked back at her. “It’s not what it looked like, Salvi.”
She burst out laughing. She didn’t know why. Blame the vodka. She shook her head. “Mitch, you knew as soon as you saw the vic and you said nothing. What do you think is going to happen when Riverton decides to review the station footage, when Weston finds your DNA all over her?”
“My what?!” he said incredulously.
“You’re screwed, Mitch.” Salvi sat back in her seat, all humor gone from her voice. She swallowed hard. “Was it you?”
“Was what me?” he asked, long fringe resting on his furrowed brow.
Salvi reached for the bottle, but he whisked it away, still staring at her.
“Was what me?” he asked again, eyes fixed sharply on hers.
“Did you kill her?” Salvi asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Not sounding as firm as she’d like. “Are you the sick fuck I’m after?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “You’re really asking me that?”
“It’s my job to ask you that, Mitch.”
“You think I did this? You think I killed her? Killed the others?” Mitch shook his head, then looked back at her and clenched his stubbled jaw. “And I suppose you think I killed my girlfriend too.” He shook his head again. “And here I was thinking you were different from the rest.”
Salvi stared at him through the circle of light that lit the table’s booth.
Mitch clenched his jaw again. “You think I did, Salvi? Do you? Tell me. Look me in the eye and tell me you think I did it.” He leaned forward over the table, putting his face in the light.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know that much about you.”
He leaned further forward. “You think. I killed. My girlfriend?” he asked again, accentuating each word.
Salvi lunged, grabbed the bottle and took a drink straight out of the neck.
“You don’t know everything about me, Salvi, but you know enough,” he said firmly. “So, you look me in the goddamn eye and tell me you think I did it.”
Salvi glanced around the bar, mustering up the courage, then finally looked back at him. His dark green eyes stared back at hers, demanding an answer.
“Hernandez, right?” he asked. “You’ve been talking to Hernandez.” He sat back in his seat, his face falling into partial shadow again. “Yeah, that’s it. He cornered me the other night. Told me he didn’t trust me. Said he was watching me.” Mitch sat forward again. “You think I didn’t have everyone back in Chicago ask me the same question, Salvi? It’s what we do. The first person cops look at in a homicide is the partner. And trust me, they looked hard. And I was cleared. It wasn’t me! I…” his voice broke a little. He took a moment to regain his voice. “I loved her, Salvi. We were having problems, sure, but I… loved her.”
“I heard she had an affair behind your back. That didn’t make you angry?”
Mitch looked at her, paused, then dropped his head a little. “At first. But then I realized that I’d driven her to it.” He shrugged. “I was never around. When I was, I was always crashed out and sleeping, or my mind was caught up in a case.”
“What about the prostitute?” she asked, her heart thumping despite the alcohol in her veins.
“What about her?” he asked.
She stared back at him, her eyes asking the question.
“I didn’t sleep with her, Salvi,” he said, eyes piercing back.
“You paid her money–”
“For information! Who knows the people in town better than the local prostitute? The one sinner in an otherwise holy town. We’re looking for someone who has a thing for sinners, right? The killer is a sinner themselves. When I left the bar the other night I just drove to Bountiful, I don’t know why. To think, maybe. To go over the cases. I pulled up at the SlingShot and she came out and we got talking. I told her I was a cop and I was investigating the murders, told her she was brave to be walking around at night by herself. She said it was horrible what had happened. I asked if she knew anything that could help. She hesitated, then told me maybe she could help. I found out she was a prostitute. Who better to tell me who in the town is maybe not as squeaky clean as they make out? Prostitutes don’t come free no matter what the service, Salvi. I paid her for information, we went for a ride, out of sight, and we talked. That’s all!”
“So why didn’t you mention it then?”
Mitch sighed and ran his hand over his face. “It was late and the next day we got to interviewing Edward Moses.”
“No, Mitch. When we foun
d the body, why didn’t you tell me then?”
He sat back in his seat. “Because I knew what it would look like,” he said quietly. “I knew Hernandez was watching me, and this… If he found out… I know Ford’s watching me too. I saw the access logs on our case files, Salvi.”
“You know it would’ve come out eventually. Riverton will rescan the footage at some point, pick you up and flag it as a gross error. A hole in our data, which you failed to mention.”
“I know!” he said. “And I freaked out!” He leaned forward again. “Don’t you get it, Salvi? Our killer has been going for good girls turned bad. Suddenly he switches to a bad girl. You know what that means, right?”
“It’s about punishment. He’s punishing sinners.”
“No. I mean, yes, but why out of everyone in town would he hit her? Why her?” He stared across the table with gravity. “Because he’s watching us, Salvi. He knows we’re on the case. It’s a warning. It’s a warning that he knows what we’re doing. He’s trying to get us to back off. Making me look like a possible suspect is a good way to do it.”
“But why target you?”
“Because I’m investigating the case.” He shrugged. “If he makes me look guilty, it slows things down and hampers the investigation.” He leaned forward again. “This guy is punishing sinners, but he’s having fun while he does it. He likes playing with people, controlling people. He likes being dominant.”
Salvi felt more drunk now. This was not what she wanted; to have to think about the case, about the suspects. She moved for the bottle again, but he pulled it back out of reach. She stared at him.
“Salvi,” he said. “You believe me, right?”
She studied his eyes as they stared back hopefully into hers.
“Ben Holt never wanted the Solme Complex near Bountiful,” she said, changing the subject. “He voted against it. He was on Rebecca Carson’s softball team.”
Mitch stared at her, brow furrowed. “You think it could be Holt?”
“He drove past me after you left with the prostitute. I think he might’ve been following you.” Salvi glanced around the bar. “He was here tonight in the bar… but maybe… Maybe he saw you like I did. With the prostitute. Maybe he’s watching you, running his own investigation.” Salvi shook her head, and her whole body swayed with the movement. “I just don’t know any more,” she said putting her elbows on the table and lowering her head into her hand. She closed her eyes and fought hard to clear everything out of her mind.
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