by M. Z. Kelly
“Never heard of it,” Joe said.
“It’s a delusional disorder in which a person believes that someone they know has been replaced by an identical impostor. Martin believed that Macy’s delusion was born out of the trauma of seeing his sister murdered by his father. He’d been choosing his victims as replacements for his dead sister. Apparently something happened to the girl’s body after she was killed and she was never given a proper burial. Martin told me that Macy’s killings were based on his belief that he could avenge Corinne’s death.”
“By his killing rituals,” I said.
She nodded. “Macy believed that he was brought into this world to seek vengeance for what his father did to his sister. He is symbolically killing those who he believes have taken her place in the world. And it is only through the rituals associated with death that his sister will finally be at peace.”
FORTY-NINE
My phone rang after we left Christine Javier and walked to the car. I let Bernie sniff some flowers as I answered the call from Molly Wingate.
“We received a report that a girl was abducted from a convenience store in North Hollywood last night,” Molly said. “A witness said there were two men involved and he got a partial plate. The numbers come back to an older model Ford that was registered to Joshua Brown.”
“Can you give me the information on the girl, where her parents live?”
After getting the address and ending the call, I told Joe what I’d learned. “Her name is Marianne Dolan. Joshua Brown’s car was used in her abduction. She has to be the next victim.”
“Let’s go talk to the parents.”
As he drove, I asked Joe for his thoughts on what we’d learned from Christine Javier. “It just confirms that we’re dealing with the 5150 poster boy, and he’s operating in his own parallel universe.”
5150 was the California Welfare and Institutions code for someone who had a mental disorder that made him a danger to himself and others.
“At least we now know what’s behind his crazy death rituals,” I said.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t bring us any closer to stopping him.”
As we got on the freeway, I called Leo and told him what we’d learned, adding, “I’ll text Oz and tell him I’m feeling better and I’m back on the job, if you want to meet us at the Dolans’.”
“I’ll be there,” Leo said.
“How did the news conference go?”
“Lots of talk and bluster. The media’s playing up the public safety issue, saying no one is safe.”
“They might be right about that,” I said before ending the call. I then thought about what we’d learned and said to Joe, “Do you want to fill Rose Castillo in on everything?”
He nodded. “I’ll call her after we talk to the girl’s parents. Maybe she’s got some ideas about how to proceed.”
Marianne Dolan’s parents lived in a small house that wasn’t too far from a cemetery. I mentioned that fact to Joe and Leo as we met up on the street in front of the house. “There’s a memorial park a couple of blocks over from here. Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe not.”
“Something to keep in mind,” Leo said as we walked to the front door with Bernie.
The door opened before we got to the porch. The Dolans came out and introduced themselves.
“Is there any word on Marianne?” Millie Dolan asked.
She and her husband were probably in their mid-fifties, a bit on the heavy side. I immediately got the impression they were a hard-working couple who were good parents, on the verge of falling apart after their daughter’s disappearance.
“Not yet,” I said.
I took a moment, introducing myself, Joe, and Leo before we all went inside and took seats in their living room. We learned that Bob Dolan worked for the post office and his wife was a grocery clerk. Their grandson, who looked to be about two, was playing with a wooden train set in the corner of the room. We learned they were caring for the toddler after their oldest child, a son, had gotten involved in drugs.
“Marianne was supposed to babysit last night,” Bob Dolan told us, after some small talk. “It’s not like her to not come home.”
“I’ve been so worried about what I’ve seen on the news about those two men,” his wife said.
Despite what I knew, I did my best to lower their anxiety level, without giving them any false hope. I then asked, “Did Marianne have a cell phone?”
Millie held up a phone and brushed her tears. “I’ve probably called her number a dozen times and left messages. She doesn’t pick up.”
I got the number from her and told her that we would try to trace their daughter’s whereabouts through the phone, but I also knew it was likely Macy had either turned off the phone or had tossed it.
We spent a few minutes, getting information about their daughter’s friends and her boyfriend. The Dolans then gave us a photograph of their daughter. She was a pretty girl, with shoulder-length dark hair. Her physical traits matched the other victims.
As we were leaving, Marianne’s mother followed us outside, leaving her husband in the house. We stopped at the cars, where she lowered her voice and said, “My husband…” She choked up and couldn’t continue.
Leo stepped forward. “We’ll do our best to find her.”
Dolan brushed her tears. “It’s not…you don’t understand. My daughter…” She took a breath. “My husband doesn’t know yet. Marianne and I have been trying to find a way to tell him.” There were more tears.
“Tell him what?” I said.
“My daughter. She’s pregnant.”
***
We’d learned that Marianne Dolan was a few weeks pregnant. She and her boyfriend had told Marianne’s mother about the pregnancy the night before she’d disappeared. Her husband, who didn’t approve of his daughter’s relationship, still didn’t know about her condition.
“I talked to Rosie,” Leo said as he pulled away from the curb. “She’s going to meet up with us at a coffee shop on La Brea. Maybe she’ll have some ideas on where they took the girl.”
Leo had volunteered to check out the nearby memorial park. It was a long shot, but it was all we had.
“I wonder if it would make any difference to Macy if he knew his next victim is pregnant,” I said to Joe.
He glanced at me. “He’s a cold-blooded killer, Buttercup. You think he suddenly developed a conscience?”
I exhaled. Darkness was settling in, and a heavy fog had drifted in from the ocean. “I’m just grasping at straws, feeling like we’re out of options.”
“Hang in there. I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’s going on with your other two detectives, Darby and Buck?”
“Not sure. Last I heard, Oz had them working on the shootings at the cemetery where our first victim was found.”
He rubbed his jaw, taking a moment, before he said, “Maybe we’ve missed something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“The two rappers…” He looked at me.
“Duncan and Hanks.”
“Yeah, maybe there’s a connection to Macy and Brown that we’ve missed all this time.”
“As in?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure, but let’s keep it in mind.”
We met with Dr. Castillo at Dirty Ray’s, a small coffee shop on La Brea near Highland. I knew we had a long night ahead of us, so I ordered a latte, with two extra shots of caffeine, and a muffin. I broke off a piece of the muffin for Bernie after we’d all settled in at an outdoor table that overlooked the city.
Joe had talked to his boss while we’d ordered and he gave us an update on the FBI side of things. “We’ve got a BOLO out on Brown’s car, and I filled Greer in on what we learned from Javier’s wife. He’s got agents spread out across the city, focusing on churches and cemeteries.”
Leo had texted me, saying all was quiet at the memorial park. After we told Rose what we’d learned about Macy’s motives from Christine Javier, I asked her, “Any thoughts on what he’s
likely to do next?”
“I believe that Dr. Javier’s theory was accurate. He is symbolically killing those who he believes have taken his sister’s place in the world. His next victim will likely re-create that scenario.”
“How do you get that nuts?” Joe asked her.
Rose tucked one of her braids behind an ear and smiled at her old friend. “Our subject is not only insane, he’s also extremely delusional. We need to be prepared for another death ritual as a display of his deep-seated psychological trauma.”
“What’s left?” I asked her. Her brows lifted. “Death rituals. What other kind of rituals are possible?”
“As we know, every culture has different beliefs associated with death. One possibility is that he will engage in some kind of burial ritual.”
“But we know he wants a public display. How would he make a burial a public spectacle?”
My phone rang before I got an answer to my question. It was Natalie. “We’re all at Nana’s Mardi Gras party on Hollywood Boulevard, Kate. Nana’s on one of the balconies, with her blouse off, throwing beads at the crowd.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That just might send everyone home early.”
“Mo and me thought you might wanna come by. Carly gonna get her bloody head whacked off before the party’s over.”
“Sorry, but I’m busy with work.”
I heard voices in the background before she said, “There must be close to ten thousand people out here. It’s crazy…”
Her voice faded and I heard people screaming. I raised my voice. “Natalie, what’s going on?”
I waited until she finally came back on the line. “You’re not gonna believe this, but there’s a horse coming down the boulevard.” Her voice faded again, before coming back. “There’s some kind of crazy…” She took a moment, before she apparently realized what was happening and went on. “It’s a body, Kate! The horse is being ridden by a dead man!”
FIFTY
Ten minutes later, Joe had used his badge to get us past the traffic barriers set up on Hollywood Boulevard. As we slowly weaved our way through the crowd of Mardi Gras revelers, we saw the horse in the distance. The nearby crowd looked like it was in a state of panic, running from the display.
“Let’s get out,” I said. “It will take forever to get there in the car.”
We left the car and ran up the street, stopping a few yards from the horse. I saw that the rider appeared to be dead. He’d been trussed up on some kind of leather device and blood was running down his face and arms. Despite the horrific nature of the display, I recognized the rider from the photographs we’d seen of him when he’d been a security guard at the state hospital.
“It’s Joshua Brown,” I said to Joe.
“His partner must have turned on him.”
The horse was in distress, probably both because of its rider and the crowd of onlookers. It began to rear up and lash out with its front legs.
I handed Bernie’s leash to Rose, and said to Joe, “Let’s see if we can get the body free, get the horse to calm down.”
We went over to the panicked animal. We made a couple of attempts to calm him, but it became startled when a drunken man came out of the crowd and tried to help. It began running down the street with the body still attached. That caused the crowd of revelers to scream and also begin running.
“Let’s get some more officers out here,” Joe said. “We need to clear the streets. We’re also going to need animal control.”
I made the calls, then thought about Buck. I called him and explained the situation about the panicked horse. He was a few minutes away, and said he would come by and try to help.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?” I heard a woman saying.
I turned, seeing that Nana was with Natalie. She was wearing a short skirt and had several Mardi Gras beads around her neck. I was grateful that at least she had put her blouse back on.
“What are you talking about?” I said, after going over to them.
“You and your copper buddies and that ridiculous corpse on a horse just ruined the party of the century. I’ll never forgive you.”
“It wasn’t Kate’s fault,” Natalie said. She looked at me. “Was this the work of the Reaper?”
I glanced down the street, seeing that the crowd was still panicked by the distressed horse. “Probably.” I looked back at them. “You’re all going to have to clear the area.”
“I think we got the girl,” Mo said, coming out of the crowd and joining us.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s sittin’ over there on the sidewalk.” She pointed to a young woman a few yards away. “She’s been talkin’ some crazy shit about the guy that took her, killing his buddy, then puttin’ his body on the horse.”
She led Joe and me over to the terrified young woman, who was crying. She was mumbling something about being held captive, and I realized she was our kidnap victim, Marianne Dolan.
Joe and I led her away from the crowd, where I gave her a moment, telling her to breathe slowly and try to explain what happened.
After she managed to tell us about being taken from the convenience store, she pointed to a building down the street. “He’s in there. The man who took me…he did something to his friend that paralyzed him. He then slashed his throat and put him on the horse.”
I took Bernie’s leash back from Rose. Joe and I then went down the street toward the building where Dolan said Quinton Macy had held her captive. We made our way inside the building, but saw no sign of Macy anywhere.
“He’s probably long gone,” I said, after checking the area.
Joe glanced through a window, into a back alleyway. “Maybe not. I think he would hang around and want to see his creation.”
We checked the alleyway and then met up on the street in front of the abandoned garage building. I saw that a crowd of onlookers was still milling around down the street, but no one seemed to be panicked. Several uniformed officers were starting to come up the street to clear the area. My eyes held on one of the officers. Something about him seemed off. I knew all the cops that worked out of Hollywood Station and I’d never seen him before. Then I knew.
“It’s him,” I said, pointing out the uniformed cop to Joe. “It’s Macy.”
We made our way back down the street toward the crowd and the officers. No sooner had we arrived than Macy apparently realized what was happening. He moved back down the street, glanced at us, and then took off running.
When I was sure that Bernie had a clear path, I snapped off his leash and gave him the attack command, “FASS!”
My big dog closed the distance between us and the killer in a matter of seconds, clamping down on Macy’s leg. Macy managed to pull away, stumbling into a music store, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Bernie on the sidewalk. When we got into the store, Macy was already running up the escalator.
Bernie took off running again as we scrambled up the stairway behind him. We heard a yelping sound, Bernie crying, before we came around the corner onto the second floor. My heart was slamming against by ribcage, panic overwhelming me as I rushed over and held my dog in my arms.
He was covered with blood!
FIFTY-ONE
“Everything went well,” Noah said. “We repaired the artery and reattached the severed tendon.”
“What about…” I took a breath, stemming the tears that threatened to flood from my eyes. “Will Bernie be able to work again?”
His blue eyes blinked several times. “It’s too early to say. I’d like to keep him here for a few days and begin physical therapy when he’s ready. We’ll know more then.”
I nodded, my head slumping forward.
Noah came over and held me for a moment. He then took my arm and we walked down the corridor, away from the operating room. We went outside to the small patio adjacent to Hart Veterinary Hospital. Bernie’s surgery had taken several hours and I saw that the sun was coming up, filtering through a stand o
f eucalyptus trees.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Noah asked after we sat down.
“You haven’t seen the news?”
He shook his head and smiled. “I was a little busy last night.”
I thanked him again for everything he’d done for Bernie, then said, “There was another killing, this time on Hollywood Boulevard. Macy turned on his partner, Joshua Brown, killed him, and used his body in a display. We chased after him. When Bernie clamped down on his leg for a second time, he used a knife on him. Macy jumped from a window onto the roof of an adjacent building and got away in the aftermath.”
Noah’s response was muted. “I’m sorry, babe.”
I was running on empty, exhausted from last night’s events and my lack of sleep. I’d talked to Joe a couple of times during the night. Despite a building by building search of downtown Hollywood, there had been no sign of Macy. The only good to come out of the long, miserable night was that Marianne Dolan had been freed and reunited with her parents.
“It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?”
Noah’s words surprised me. I glanced over at him. “What?”
“Your job, the danger.”
I exhaled and nodded. “It’s not going away, if that’s what you mean.”
Noah’s gaze had moved off and he didn’t respond. I finally said, “You’re still having doubts, aren’t you?”
He met my eyes again. “I’m worried about you, if that’s what you mean.”
I regarded him for a long moment after he’d looked away. “Tell me about her.” He looked back at me, his blonde brows inching together. “Your fiancée.”
He leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, and looked down. “Stephanie and me…we were college sweethearts. We planned to get married when the war came along. She understood when I joined the army—the first time.” He met my eyes. “When I re-upped, she was against it.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “As it turned out, I guess she was right. All I know is that, with everything that happened—it was too much for her.”