“Get this, though,” said Reilly. “They’re saying that the penetrating was done after rigor mortis set in the on the body. They can tell because of the way the trauma presents itself on the body. So, that’s a few hours after death.”
“Really?” Wren looked at him.
“Yeah,” said Reilly.
“What the fuck?” said Wren.
“Right,” said Reilly. “He killed her, then sat around with her for several hours, let her get stiff, and then decided it was time to rape the corpse. What’s that say to you?”
“I don’t know,” said Wren. “I don’t know.” She folded her arms over her chest. “This scene is nothing like the last scene.”
Reilly surveyed it, nodding. “No, you’re right, it’s not.”
“And can they confirm that this girl was killed first?”
“Oh, sure looks that way,” said Reilly.
“So, he’s had her stashed someplace,” said Wren. “He’s had her stashed, but the other girl, he kills, rapes, and leaves. This one he lays out in a place that’s different from where the crime took place.”
“Ooh,” said Reilly. “That’s an organized thing, right? Moving the body instead of leaving it at the scene?”
“Yes,” said Wren. “And he posed it. He’s both disorganized and organized at the same time. My professors at the Academy would have a field day.”
“Well, you know, we could maybe get a profile,” said Reilly. “We could submit to the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“I can do it,” said Wren. “I’ll figure it out. You keep saying you don’t want to put pressure on me, but then everything out of your mouth is pressure.”
Reilly raised both of his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
Wren looked back at the body. She sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess I just feel confused.”
“Hey, I’m with you,” said Reilly.
“You know, earlier, I had a voicemail, and I worried it was going to be you, telling me there was another body. But I told myself there would probably be a cooling-off period, because we’d moved out of the window for a spree killer, and he’d probably wait a while. But he didn’t. Or, more accurately, he started earlier than we thought.” She sighed. “Oh, hell, I feel awful. What do we know about the victim?”
“Megan Wallace. Another high school student,” said Reilly. “She’s been missing for a few weeks, but no one reported it, because apparently, she lives on her own. She’s an emancipated minor. Bad home life, apparently. Mother’s been in and out of jail for prostitution and drugs for years.”
“Aw, hell.” Wren’s shoulders sagged. “What a life. To go through all that, to finally get out from under her past, and then…” She drew in a shaky breath.
“Hey,” said Reilly. “You okay?”
Wren clenched her hands into fists. “I want to catch him before he does this again, Reilly.”
“You and me both.”
* * *
“See, that’s where it all gets really weird for me,” said Reilly as he and Wren stepped into the Daily Bean. They’d been up all night with the crime scene and the body, and now the coffee shop was opening. It was just after dawn. “I can understand wanting to have sex with a corpse, but—”
“You can?” Wren gave him a disbelieving look.
“No, I can’t.” He flinched. “That’s not what I meant. I need coffee.” He stepped up to the counter. “Hey, Angela.”
“Hey,” said Angela, the barista. “Good morning. Triple shot ginger latte?”
“You know it,” said Reilly.
“And for you, Wren?” asked Angela.
“Um… I’m going to try that coconut chocolate thing on the specials board. But can you make that a triple shot, too?”
“I sure can,” said Angela. “You’re going to love it. I shaved the dark chocolate myself.”
“Sounds delicious,” said Wren. She turned back to Reilly. “Why would you say that about sex with a corpse?”
“I’m just saying, you know, if I’m going to rape someone, I can see why I’d want to kill her first, because then there’s less, you know, struggle and everything. It’s easier to deal with. And I’m going to have to kill her anyway, because she’s seen my face, so… okay, I get it.”
“Right, I see what you mean,” said Wren. “I mean, that does make sense.”
“But,” said Reilly, “I don’t really understand using an object for the penetration.”
“Well, he might be impotent,” said Wren.
Reilly considered. “Okay, that could be. I get that. So, he wants to rape her, but he can’t get it going.”
“Exactly.”
“But the rigor mortis thing, I mean that’s just…” He threw up his hands. “I don’t get that at all.”
Angela made a funny noise on the other side of the counter.
Reilly exchanged a look with Wren.
She cringed.
Reilly cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, Angela.”
“It’s fine,” said Angela in a tiny voice.
Reilly held up a finger. “We’ll finish this conversation in the car.”
“Sorry,” said Wren.
“Really,” said Angela, “I’m okay.”
“No, I mean, we shouldn’t be discussing it,” said Wren. “It’s sensitive police business.”
“No, we really shouldn’t,” said Reilly.
They waited as Angela made the drinks.
She put them on a counter a few minutes later.
They paid.
They went back out to the car.
“So,” said Wren as she pulled the door closed behind herself, “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“About what?”
“The rigor mortis thing,” she said.
“Okay,” said Reilly.
“Um, so this is his first victim,” she said. “I mean, he killed her before he killed Bristol.”
“Yes,” said Reilly.
“So, maybe it took him a while to work up to being able to, you know, get the courage to do the raping. So, he sat there with the corpse, maybe trying to get an erection?”
“Oh, gross,” said Reilly. “But I guess that might make sense. Eventually, he just can’t, so he uses something else, calls it good.”
“And then he’s established his method, so next time, it goes more smoothly,” said Wren.
Reilly nodded. “You’re brilliant, Delacroix.” He winked at her.
She lifted her chin. “I have my moments.”
Reilly started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot. “Does that help us?”
“I don’t know,” said Wren. “Because I still can’t figure out why he posed this body and didn’t pose the last one.”
“Yeah, that’s all kinds of weird, huh?”
“Well, if we go back to the two-killer theory—”
“Which blows all this discussion we’ve been having of impotence and stuff to hell, right? Because one killer who can’t get it up, okay, but two?”
“Well, maybe they’re doing it together, and they’ve got some kind of homophobic panic about it, so they settle on the shovel handle because they don’t have to see each other’s dicks.”
“Also a possibility,” said Reilly, staring out at the road as he drove.
“Hey, speaking of which, did we ever get back the analysis on the mop and broom handles at the school?”
“Not a match,” said Reilly.
“So, probably not the janitor.”
“Well, it doesn’t prove anything one way or the other,” said Reilly.
Wren took a drink of her coffee, which was as delicious as Angela had promised. “If it’s two killers, I still haven’t established the relationship between them, how any of it’s working… I don’t know. I’m nowhere, Reilly. I’m seriously blowing smoke up my own ass.”
“Calm down,” said Reilly. “Drink your coffee. Caffeine will bring clarity.”
She snorted.
“I’m serious,” he said. “We’ve been up all night, and we were drinking alcohol when we were called in. We’re not at optimal performance here.”
“Maybe he did leave Megan Wallace where he killed her, but no one found her,” said Wren. “So, he moved her, because he wanted her found.”
“Could be.”
“But no, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Because of the videos,” said Reilly. “If he wanted the body found, why not just make another video telling where the body was?”
“Yeah,” said Wren. “And why a video for the second but not the first, and…” She shut her eyes. “I’m getting a headache. I really am.”
“Maybe he’s going to make another video,” said Reilly. “I should call Frederick, see if they can get someone to go check out the building. Maybe we catch him this time.”
“Yeah, good thought,” said Wren.
* * *
“I found the video,” said Maliah when they entered headquarters.
Wren was sipping her coffee. “Good morning, Maliah. How are you doing?”
Maliah gave her a withering look. “Yeah, I could waste time on shit like that, or we could get down to brass tacks. The killer uploaded a video to the same YouTube account. I’ve been keeping tabs on it. I traced the IP. It was uploaded in the high school library.”
“At the scene where the body was laid out?” said Reilly.
“Yeah, that’s where he filmed the video,” said Maliah. “You want to watch?”
“You got it up on your computer in your office?” said Reilly.
Maliah motioned with her head.
They trooped down the hallway and into her office. Maliah sat down in her desk chair. Wren and Reilly scooted around behind her to look down at the screen over her shoulder. She pulled up the video.
It was the same figure as before, in a hooded sweatshirt. This time, he hadn’t managed the lighting from behind so well, and it was obvious that he was wearing something over his face. It was black, and there were no holes for the eyes or nose or mouth, just black fabric. As before, his voice was digitally distorted.
He stood in front of the table where the body had been laid out. The feet of the girl were in the frame.
“I promised that the first body would not be the last, and now I have killed again. As I predicted, the police and authorities have no clue. They aren’t even close to catching me. No one knows who I am and no one can stop me. I am imbued with the same spirit that fueled the killers of this region. I am driven by the legacy of David Song and Lucas John Jackson and Oscar Robinson. I am full of the power of the Horned Lord. I am the knife in the darkness. I am the rage in the fire. This is not the end. I will not stop. I will kill and kill again.”
The screen went blank and then a K appeared.
Then the video ended.
“Well, that was basically a rehash of the last video,” said Reilly. “Just in a new location. He’s still doing the hyperbolic thing, taunting the authorities.”
“Didn’t say anything about the CIA this time, though,” said Wren. “He also mentioned the Horned Lord.”
Reilly turned to her. “You think that’s significant?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” It had given her chills, if she was honest. She didn’t know why the strange deity from her childhood still creeped her out so much, but it did.
“He signed with a K again, too,” said Reilly. “You think that stands for anything?”
“Maybe something generic, like ‘kill,’” said Wren. “He could be taking a page from the BTK killer, only simplifying it.”
“So, does this video tell us anything new?” said Reilly, moving back around to the front of Maliah’s desk.
“He has the password to the school’s Wi-Fi,” said Maliah.
“And,” said Wren, following Reilly out from behind the desk, “he has access to the school.”
“Well, of the list of people close to Bristol who had access to a handgun, all had access to the school,” said Reilly.
“I don’t suppose the school has surveillance videos?” said Maliah.
“No, we asked,” said Reilly. “First thing we asked. Couldn’t get that lucky.”
“But this school has horrible security,” said Maliah. “How’d this kid get in? Wasn’t the library locked? How’d that girl get in to run the track?”
“The track is outside,” said Reilly. “And it’s open to the community. It’s a public track. But the library, he seems to have broken into.”
“Yeah, there’s a door in the basement that he rigged so that he could get in,” said Wren. “At least, that’s how it looks. All the doors have an instant locking mechanism, so it’s all done on a timer, but if you wedge an eraser into the lock, it won’t shut.”
Maliah nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have to admit, that sounds like something we would have figured out how to do when I was in high school.”
“He could be a student,” said Wren. “He could have done this during the day, and then come back at night.”
“But he could have easily been a teacher or the principal or the janitor,” said Reilly. “They all had access to the school, but via keycards that they would scan, which would have been logged, showing them on site during the time when the body was being laid out.”
Maliah’s fingers flew across the keyboard.. “Okay… give me a minute.”
“For what?” said Wren.
Maliah squinted. Typed a little more. Used her mouse. And then nodded, her features relaxing. “Okay, according to the logs, the principal and the history teacher were both in the building at the time when the body was being laid out. The janitor has a morning shift. He checked out at noon.”
“Wait, you’re looking at the school’s logs?” said Wren.
Maliah nodded. “Yup.”
“Hey, I thought we agreed no more hacking into things,” said Reilly. “Hacking is illegal, and we are the police, and—”
“Oh, come on,” said Maliah, glaring at Reilly. “This is faster than filling out all the paperwork to get the records. If you need them for an arrest, we can do it the slow way, but if I can get in, then I’m going to get in.”
“That was fast,” said Wren. “I can’t believe you did that so fast.”
Maliah laughed, looking pleased with herself. “What can I say? I do what I can.”
“Badass,” said Wren, grinning at her.
“Thank you,” said Maliah, grinning back.
“All right, back on topic,” said Reilly, “it still doesn’t eliminate anyone.”
“Well, it seems awfully complicated for the janitor,” said Wren. “I can’t see him wedging open a door.”
“And if the principal and the teacher are already in the building, why tamper with the lock?” said Reilly.
“To throw you off?” said Maliah.
“Right,” said Wren. “Because this killer is half evil genius and half impulsive mess. I forgot. Nothing makes any sense at all.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Peter Baker dropped his back pack on the table in the room that Reilly and Wren had set up in the school to talk to suspects. Since they had more than one person to see that day, it seemed easier than chasing them around the school.
Peter was Bristol’s boyfriend. He was a skinny guy with greasy dark hair which hung in his eyes. His clothes hung off his frame. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I want my mom here if you’re going to question me.”
“Okay,” said Reilly. “That’s fine. We can do that. We’ll call her, okay?”
“Won’t matter if you do,” said Peter. “She’s not here. She went to Ohio to see my grandfather, because he’s sick. I asked her to stay, because my girlfriend freaking died, but she wouldn’t. She just left.” He sank down in a chair, looking sullen. “I needed her, you know?”
“Sorry,” said Reilly. “So, what about your father?”
“Not in the picture,” said Peter.
“Okay,” said Rei
lly. He looked Peter over. “Well, that makes things a little tough for us, doesn’t it? When’s your mother get home?”
“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “I’m not letting anyone screw with me, though. I know how this goes. People are going to think I did it, because I’m Bristol’s boyfriend, and it’s always the boyfriend. Well, I didn’t do it, and I’m not going to let you guys force me into some kind of confession.”
“Hey, no,” spoke up Wren. “That’s not what we’re here for. Honestly, we’re looking to eliminate you, that’s all.”
“Exactly,” said Reilly. “We find out that you’re not responsible for this, and we’ll be done looking into you. So, do you think you could talk to us without your mother present?”
“I don’t know,” said Peter. “That sounds kind of dumb of me to do. I’m not dumb.”
“How about we ask you some questions, and you see if you want to answer them?” said Reilly. “Anything makes you feel uncomfortable, you say you’re done, and we’ll come back when we can have your mother here.”
Peter sighed. He looked them both over. “Yeah, whatever.”
“You’re consenting, then?” said Reilly.
Peter hunched down, glowering across the table at them. “Fine. Sure.”
“Okay, so, um, several days ago, the day Bristol was found. Can you account for yourself around 4:00 in the morning?” said Wren.
“Not really,” said Peter. “I mean, I was in bed, asleep, but no one was watching me sleep. My mother was asleep too. So, I mean, I don’t know if that counts.”
“And last night,” said Reilly. “Yesterday evening around 8:00, where were you?”
“I was home alone, because my mother left me alone,” said Peter. “While I’m in the middle of grieving. What kind of mother does that? You know?”
* * *
“Noah,” said the young man, offering Wren his hand. “Noah Adams.”
Wren took his hand and shook. “I’m Wren Delacroix. I work as a consultant to Detective Reilly here.”
“Detective,” said Noah, offering him his hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Reilly gestured to the seat where Peter Baker had been sitting recently.
Noah sat down.
“How are you?” said Wren.
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