“Hey, I'm not a ditzy blonde waiting for some slimy guy to take my picture and splash it across YouTube.” She winked after she said it.
“Far from it, I'm sure. You sound quite educated. I'd imagine if you were associated with the industry, you'd be the one calling the shots.”
Another smile. How sweet and semi-sincere.
“I'm actually still in school,” she leaned in and whispered. He gestured for more information.
“Well, I'm getting my MBA at SMU. Just spent a semester in China. My focus is macroeconomics.”
With the flip of a light switch, his urges felt a shot of adrenaline. He wanted to begin the more serious game soon. Maybe too soon for his own good. They ordered more drinks.
“Is it safe to say that I'm looking at the future Federal Reserve chairperson?”
“All in due time,” she said with another wink. Her neck just twitched. On the right side. Odd, he'd never seen anything like it.
“I graduated from UCLA, no grad school for me. I've been out three years.”
“Still getting by on that entry-level job?” she teased.
“Not exactly. They moved me out here. Just got named VP of marketing and sales.”
Her pupils just expanded. The blood rush was on, which made him laugh inside.
“You must be doing something right.”
“Well, my father owns the company, so it's all in the genes.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks lost some color. She looked disappointed.
“Just kidding.” He touched her hand, and she nearly shot out of her chair.
“I wouldn't mind getting in your jeans. OMG, did I just say that?” She blushed and thumbed her necklace.
He leaned back and laughed. “As long as you play nice, I'll let you go anywhere you please.”
She put her hand on top of his and gave him a seductive smile.
“I'm ready. Are you?” she whispered, her lips puckering for an extra second.
“Check please.” He raised his hand to no one, and they shared a laugh.
They waltzed along the sidewalk. She rubbed her arms, and Harold removed his thousand-dollar coat and cloaked her body. He pressed a fifty into the palm of the valet boy.
Once the vacuumed doors of the Infiniti shut, Jordan touched every knob, button, and touch screen in the luxury car. She might be intelligent, even worldly, and well on her way to attaining her MBA, but Harold was certain she had her eyes on the ultimate prize—an MRS degree.
They traveled south on Turtle Creek, took a slight left on Maple, then turned right onto Crescent Court. Her face was calm, her body relaxed. He could see this five-star hotel was not virgin territory for Jordan.
“Let's go up, shall we?” he said.
She took his arm and looked into his eyes, the look of youthful trust. For him to accomplish tonight's mission, she had to trust him.
Before he locked the door to the two-thousand-square-foot suite, he could hear her dancing around, jumping on each piece of furniture. He just shook his head. She really thought she'd made it. Maybe she'd fallen and hit her head and awoke thinking she was Julia Roberts in God love Ireland. But he didn't have a million dollars in jewels, and he certainly wasn't going to pay her to have sex with him. That would defeat the whole purpose.
He decided to go the extra mile, and he popped the cork on a bottle of champagne.
“Another toast?” she asked.
“Only if you need it.”
“Oops.” She purposely dumped the glass on her dress then playfully touched her lips. “I guess I need to get into something more comfortable.” Off she skipped to the bathroom.
He went up to the second floor, where floor-to-ceiling windows provided a majestic view of the skyline. The world could watch.
“Where are you, Harold?”
“Up here, Jordan.”
She pranced up the carpeted steps, giggling like they were playing hide-and-seek. He faced the world a foot from the window, cool air escaping through a vent on the floor, touching his genitals. He throbbed for her...really more for the moment. He heard two footsteps hit the plastic, then she smacked his ass, which caught him off guard. They could get rough. He'd once played that game when he was much younger. But that wasn't built into this script.
He turned to face her. She was full monty. She couldn't hold back, and she attacked him like her life would end if she didn't feel his body immediately.
“Let's slow it down just a tad.”
Her tongue licked every bit of his skin. He was covered in slime.
“Can you turn around for me?” he whispered. “I like it better that way.” She grunted like he was already inside of her. God love Ireland.
His hand touched her ankles then slid up her calf to her thigh. She quickly grabbed his fingers and pushed them toward the warmest spot on her body. Too eager. He moved his hand to her hip, then slowly up her torso. She took his arm, bit it, then pressed his hand to her breast and massaged it.
“My, you're a voracious little thing, aren't you?”
“I just need you. I have to have you...now!”
He kissed her neck, but his lips felt a bump, like something had come alive under her skin. It was that twitch. He saw it move again. Disturbing. Jordan had so many good qualities, but perhaps he'd acted too hastily. He was losing his erection. What now? He needed options.
Before he could think, she turned and leaped liked a gymnast, her toned legs now locked around his waist. She certainly got an A for effort.
“Jordan, let's take this a step at a time.” He tried peeling her off his body with one arm still hidden behind his back.
“Damn it, Harold, don't pull away from me.”
“Jordan, please. I can't continue like this.”
She hit her knees and tried arousing him with her mouth.
He looked down and put his hand on her hair. “If only I was a normal guy, you'd be a dream come true.”
“What?”
She lifted her eyes, perplexed.
“But since you don't listen any better than a petulant child, I'm going to have to ruin this moment for both of us.”
With sweat now dripping down his nose, he raised his blade and swiped down with all his might, slicing off the front of her nose. She released a piercing scream, fell back and rolled, blood spewing everywhere. He pounced on her and slashed wildly, grunting with each thrust of his arm, until there was no movement. Then he extracted her larynx and that pesky twitch—what he thought was her tendon.
Bitch.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Andi hummed along in her pale-green Mystery Machine at sixty miles per, knowing she could drive the commute blindfolded, if needed. She'd spent the night at Lindsey's for the umpteenth time, realizing she'd have an early ride back to UNT to catch her journalism law class. She couldn't wait until these mindless classes were over, and she could finally focus on her real career. Just three more months, a couple of passing grades, she reminded herself. With this bizarre situation in Houston, it felt like her career had already started. She had to remember though, as much as Big Heart smelled liked rotten eggs, at this point she only had accusations. If only she could find that key piece of evidence that linked the company—its management team—to all of those gut-wrenching accusations.
“If God love Ireland were candy, my what a Christmas we'd have,” her auntie back east used to say.
The former lonely stretch of highway separating cornfields and an occasional power line now was littered with too many miles of strip centers, discount gas stations that were as large as regional airports, and dozens of gated communities. In other words, the concrete jungle had finally begun to invade northern Collin and Denton counties.
Her stomach grumbled for what must have been thirty seconds. She'd taken a six-mile jog the night before and blew off breakfast this morning. Not smart, especially for someone training for a triathlon. She knew one of the few remaining original mom-and-pop country stores on 380 was up ahead about a mile, just around t
he bend. She'd heat up a breakfast sandwich, grab a banana, and then top if off with a homemade protein smoothie—Miss Caroline made them right on the spot.
She turned into the gravel-and-dust parking lot, tires crunching and popping until her squeaky brakes brought the old minivan to a stop. She took hollow steps on a raised, but sagging, wooden porch, then pulled back the warped door, which wailed in return.
“Hi there, Miss Caroline.”
A plump, sixty-something woman with a hairnet and a gap between her front teeth smiled and waved from behind a counter. “I hadn't seen you in a while. I assumed you'd just gone off and graduated, and we'd never hear from you again.”
“I've got three more months, but I can't be late for my nine o'clock class,” Andi said, crossing her fingers, then glancing at the time on her phone. “As long as you're in business, I'll be dropping by at least every now and then, even after I graduate. I can't resist your homemade smoothies.”
“They do seem to keep the customers coming back for more.”
“Not surprising,” Andi said with a smile, her stomach grumbling for sustenance.
“I'll give you an extra large one today. Lickety-split, since you gotta make class and all.”
Andi picked out a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, the wrapper still warm, then found the ripest banana, although it still had a bit of green on one end. Miss Caroline met her at the register, and Andi took a bite of the sandwich while handing over her debit card.
The portly storeowner slid the card and punched the buttons three times. “These darn machines just aren't reliable.”
Andi took another bite of the sandwich, and then drew a quick slurp of her smoothie, feeling instant fortification. Still waiting for her debit card to go through, the college senior looked out the cracked front window.
A quick flash and she glanced left. A rusted pickup tore into the parking lot, skidding, fishtailing across the rocks. The bed of the truck strained from the pressure and shimmered violently until it ceased moving sideways. A combination of parking lot dust and polluted tailpipe smoke created a hazy barricade around the vehicle. One door opened and a girl in blue jeans, boots, and a green sweatshirt jumped out, yelling and shaking her arms. A boy emerged from the other side with a phone to his ear, which he then pulled away to look at the screen. He was bare chested, his unbuttoned shirt clinging to both arms. He also had on jeans and boots.
Andi watched as the pair seemed to talk to each other and themselves, agitated about something. More arm motions. Boots attacked the porch planks like a herd of horses. Then the front door was thrown open.
“Call the God love Irelandlice, call the God love Irelandbulance.” said the cowboy who looked no older than twenty, shaking his phone.
“No sense in calling the God love Irelandbulance,” the cowgirl said. “That woman isn't going anywhere. She's dead.” The girl put her hands to her face, forcing back tears.
Andi dropped her sandwich and drink at the counter and quickly approached the young couple.
“What happened? Where were you?”
“I can't describe it. I...” the cowgirl's voice trailed off. She wiped away tears, perhaps recalling the scene.
“Our damn phones won't work. Battery went out,” the cowboy said, his face contorted with fear and anxiety.
Andi could see this couple had been through some shit. She glanced back at Miss Caroline, who already had the phone to her ear and gave a knowing nod back to Andi. God love Ireland
Andi put her arm around the girl. “What's your name?”
“Tammy.” The girl, who probably wasn't any more than five-two and a hundred ten pounds, looked up at Andi with wet eyes.
“It's okay. The police are coming now. What did you see? Here, take this napkin.” Andi smelled weed but didn't let it distract her.
Tammy snorted and then shut her eyes.
“Me and Bryan were out camping for the night, down this dirt road over here. We got up a little late.” She looked over at her boyfriend, who was still playing with his phone. “Well, I had to...you know, take care of some business. I found a quiet place in the field about fifty feet or so from Bryan's truck.” She began to breathe in stuttering gusts.
“It's okay, really. Keep going.”
“I, uh, pulled down my jeans and moved back, and tripped. Fell right on my bare ass. I thought I'd stumbled over a dead tree. I turned around, and I saw a rolled up rug, with a head sticking out.” Her voice rose in pitch with every few words, nearing hysteria.
Tammy put her head against Andi's chest and sobbed. “It was the most awful sight. I gagged when I saw the face. It was all bloated and discolored. And her neck was at this strange angle.” She shut her eyes, and Andi held her.
Two black-and-whites with Denton County Sheriff etched on the side pulled up to the store. Two officers in fatigue-green uniforms and wearing cowboy hats barged through the door, wasting no time getting to the point.
“Who saw the dead person?”
Tammy raised her hand. “We were just out camping. I think she's been dead a while.”
“Take us there. You can ride in our car.” The four of them exited the parking lot, and Andi followed close behind in the Mystery Machine.
The road was full of ruts and large branches. Orange dust made visibility difficult, but they couldn't drive any faster than ten miles per hour because of the rough terrain. About fifteen minutes down the twisting path, they came to a stop. Tammy got out of the marked sedan and pointed to the left. Andi watched both officers high-step through weeds and brush, then stop and look down. One put his arm over his face, turned and acted like he might puke, while the other flipped his head around, apparently trying to purge the snapshot from his memory. He brought his shoulder radio mic to his face and started barking out orders.
Andi could see something blue and gray through the brush—the rug Tammy had described. She thought about the lifeless body that had been tossed away like this. Her gut began to churn. This was no accident. She grabbed her phone and dialed the newsroom. Brandon didn't pick up, so she called the big man himself.
“Michael, I'm at the scene of a crime. A girl has been murdered.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Can I see the body?” I asked.
Carl removed his gold-rimmed shades, revealing his intense, dark eyes. The sun flickered across the field in waves, hiding behind spotty, white clouds. He turned back to the crime scene, about fifty feet away, which was surrounded by yellow tape and a gaggle of officials in one uniform or another. He kicked away weeds that had dusted up his brown leather shoes.
“You're already the only members of the press here. No one else even knows about it,” Carl said with his arms spread wide, frustrated. “I don't want anyone messing up my crime scene.”
“I thought it was the Denton County Sheriff's crime scene.”
“Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway. It's all going to belong to the FBI soon enough.”
Off to my right, Stu—whom I'd literally grabbed by the collar on my way out the door—wasn't wasting time. He was casually shooting the breeze with one of the techs from the CSI unit. Maybe he had a connection...or was in the process of making one.
Carl and I locked glares. Finally, he looked away with an exaggerated sigh. “Shit. You aren't going to leave until you see the body.”
“That's right.”
“Why do you want to see a dead body? It's not pleasant in the best of circumstances. And this is at the opposite end of the spectrum.”
I licked my lips, realizing I was asking to drudge up old, even painful memories. But this crime scene wasn't about the past. The emails from Yours Truly, the murders in Baton Rouge and Oxford, the follow-up emails that tried to justify homicide—all these things had touched my colleagues and me in some disjointed way. If this girl was murdered in the same fashion as the others, then I needed to see it for myself.
“Carl, we've been attached at the hip throughout this crazy odyssey. If a murderer—attached to the ema
ils or not—has invaded our area, then I feel like I owe it to everyone to not turn away when it's distasteful. I want to feel what it was like—what she went through—and this is the closest I can get to doing that. I just hope that I can protect anyone else this pervert might be targeting.”
“Marisa?”
“Her included, yes.”
Andi looked down and shuffled a running shoe on the dirt, as Carl twisted his mouth, apparently studying his options.
“Give me a sec.” Off he went, swatting at three-foot weeds. He whispered in the ears of two officers and a CSI tech. Stu had just walked up, discussing with Andi the first two people who stumbled over the body.
“I'll get you their names and numbers. I also jotted down a couple of quotes you might want to use,” Andi said to Stu.
Carl ambled back toward our group. “Sorry to interrupt your media meeting, but they're ready.”
I looked at Stu, who shook his head and held up a hand that signaled he'd seen far too many lifeless bodies. Andi's eyes were stuck open, her head leaning forward. “Do you mind?” she asked Carl.
“Sure, we'll just create a nice procession. Please pay two dollars and keep moving.” Carl rolled his eyes and led the way. “You've got two minutes.”
The wind blew wafts of something foul—the smell of death—as Andi and I stood side by side, staring down at the naked girl laying on top of the unrolled rug, her top half discolored from all of the blood that had drained from the body, or the girl...what was her name? Brown flakes of dried blood stuck to her bloated body. She'd been dead for several days, it was obvious.
Ground zero of the gory mess was at her neck and right shoulder. It would need to be cleaned to see the detailed work of the killer, but we knew two of the three other murdered girls had their carotid arteries severed and their larynxes extracted. This girl looked to be about the same age, early twenties. Her chin angled backward, exposing a gash in her neck. Her tongue sat at the edge of her mouth, almost like a prop in a movie. Her face was more blue than white, and severely swollen. A trail of blood snaked down her torso ending at her thigh. Her distended body had the shape of an alien being, possibly not even human.
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