Lesley Davis - Dark Wings Descending

by Lesley Davis

  “And he could do what if you were attacked? Beat them to death with his wings?”

  Ashley slapped at Rafe’s stomach. “Do you know nothing of the weapons angels possess, Raphael?” She ignored Rafe’s growl at her use of her full name. “You have the name of an angel and still have no clue. Angels are not defenseless beings of light. They are equipped with the Weapons of Truth.”

  “Weapons of Truth?” Rafe said. “I damn well want to know that if my girl is out sniffing around the body of a recent murder, she’s protected by something more than just truth, justice, and the American way.”

  “Trust me, Rafe, Eli’s more than ready to keep me safe.”

  “Is he here now?” Rafe scanned about her. “I can’t see his white light.”

  “He’s here, just not in a physical form or any you can see.” Ashley knew exactly where he was. She could feel his presence near. She could always sense where he was.

  “I need to go down into the garden. This woman needs me to find her killer.” Rafe began edging toward the stairs.

  “Go take a look, Detective, but you can’t linger. You’re going to need your people here to do their job.”

  Rafe led their way back down the fire escape. Ashley loved that for all her haste, Rafe was still thoughtful enough to guide Ashley’s way down. Her gallantry didn’t go unnoticed by Ashley and it just made her love her more.

  The garden gate had been left open, as if inviting everyone in to witness the cruelty laid out inside. Rafe turned on the small flashlight she’d brought from her car. She let it play over the ground, marking a path where she and Ashley could step without contaminating the scene. They both looked at the body, and for a long moment neither spoke.

  “Goddamn him. She’s been killed exactly the same way as the others.” Rafe knelt and shone her flashlight on the woman’s face. “Christ,” she said as the contorted face was caught in the harsh beam. “Her throat is cut. And I’d wager from the state of her clothing, her back has been ripped to shreds.” Rafe took a step aside and waved Ashley forward. “Take your pictures, Sparky, then let’s get out of here and start the investigation properly.”

  Ashley picked her way around the body, taking her photographs as swiftly as possible, recognizing the familiar pose once again filling her viewfinder. How many more? She wondered, deliberately trying not to look in the haunted eyes of the dead woman, knowing the terror left in place there.

  “Ashley?”

  Rafe’s voice was soft in the silence. Ashley looked at her as she took her last snap.

  “Are we looking for an angel killer here?”

  Ashley glanced at the body on the ground as if seeing it with new eyes. “These women aren’t angels, Rafe. They’re entirely human.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m certain.”

  “I’ve seen it for myself. You have angels that hunt down demons. What if you’ve got a rogue element in the demon class who’s taken it upon himself to even the score?”

  Ashley considered this. She made certain Rafe was all done, at least until she could return in her official capacity. Then with a quick scan of the area, she had Rafe lead them back out of the garden. Once satisfied they were far enough away from the scene, she made a call.

  “Have it called in, Eli.” She ended the call and slipped her arm around Rafe’s waist, grateful for Rafe pulling her in even closer. Ashley needed the physical reassurance; it had been desperately missing at all the other crime scenes she’d walked away from alone. She relished Rafe’s presence now in every sense of the word. “This woman wasn’t an angel and neither were the ones who died before her. His drawing wings in their blood isn’t to show what they were.”

  Rafe stopped in her tracks. “What if it was to point out what they weren’t?”

  Iced blood ran through Ashley’s veins at Rafe’s hesitant question. “If you’re right, then we really are looking for a demon. And one, it seems, whose taste for killing humans has escalated from weeks to just days. He’s on a rampage.”

  *

  Dean hurried to Rafe’s side the second she stepped from her car. He crowded her, keeping her hidden from the other officers who were starting to cordon off the area.

  “Did Ashley get a call for this one too?” He gestured to the scene behind him.

  “Yes, we got here just after one this morning.”

  “She called you?”

  Rafe hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to reveal to him. She was still coming to terms herself with a relationship that had sprung out of nowhere and was developing at the speed of light. “Yes, I tagged along.”

  “Did you see anything?” Dean led her toward the murder site.

  “Only what he wanted us to see.” Rafe could see a small crowd already beginning to form. “Don’t these people have anywhere better to be at this time of night?” She wished she was back in the comfort of her own bed with Ashley curled up beside her. She rubbed at her cold nose and caught the acrid scent of the lemon that had soaked the wet wipe Ashley had laughingly wiped her hands and face with. Can’t have everyone know what you were pulled away from, can we, Detective? She had teased Rafe before kissing her softly and heading back to her own apartment in a taxi.

  “Didn’t being on the scene so fresh after the kill give you the chance to see anything?”

  “His blood patterns form wings when painted on the right surface.”

  “Shit,” Dean exclaimed. “For real?”

  Rafe cocked her head to the neighboring apartment. “From up there you can’t miss it. Down here we need to keep the foot patrol to a minimum. I don’t want the evidence disturbed.” She caught sight of Crime Scene Photographer Jim Pope getting out of his team’s van. “Get Pope to go up high. I want everyone to see what I saw.” She waited while her orders were carried out.

  “Does it mean we’ve got a religious nut on our hands after all?” Dean asked, returning with latex gloves and booties for the scene.

  “He’s a freak. I don’t care what he wraps it up in.” Rafe was pleased to see only one person beside the body. Dr. Alan nodded to her as she walked toward him.

  “This killer is steadfast in his pattern, Detective. You’ve got to give him credit for that.”

  “Show me what we’ve got, then we can get Pope to take her picture. I want her either covered or removed by the time the kids in that apartment block start waking up.” She knelt beside the doctor, who got down on one knee to lift up the long blond hair that was draped over the massive wound in the dead woman’s throat.

  “It’s the same initial attack, deep enough to incapacitate but not enough to kill outright. It would appear he likes his ladies alive, at least for a little while.” He pointed to the woman’s face. “Contorted in terror again. I swear I’ll see these women’s faces in my nightmares for years to come. To freeze them like that in the last seconds of their life. What the hell do they see?”

  Rafe kept quiet. She’d seen a man transform into a demon before her very own eyes. Would it have been written as clearly on my face too if he’d killed me? “Whatever they saw, I pray we never get to witness it.”

  Dr. Alan ushered Rafe and Dean around the body. Rafe stopped him. “Don’t step anywhere in the blood.”

  “That’s a mighty big ‘keep off’ area,” he said.

  “I need the crime scene photographer to get a shot from above. I want to preserve the blood pattern enough before everyone has to walk through it to get this woman out of here.”

  Dr. Alan squinted at the blood spread high and around the body. “There something about the blood I should be seeing?”

  “I believe it’s part of his M.O. that he couldn’t properly display in the alleys previous. But here, on the paved stones, it might yield some clues.”

  “What do you see here, Rafe?”

  “He’s painting wings with their blood, Doc. I need it undisturbed to prove it.”

  His eyes shot back to the blood pool. He shifted a few steps, stood back, and let out a gas
p. “Damn, I can see it myself. Crudely done, but then blood isn’t really the perfect medium in which to paint. What have we got here, Rafe?”

  “Hopefully, answers this time. Four bodies are four too many.” She walked around the woman’s feet and watched closely as Dr. Alan eased the body up to reveal the butchered back.

  “No doubt whatsoever in my mind this is the same killer,” he said, laying the body back down at Rafe’s nod.

  She stood and waved a hand in the direction of the fire escapes “Doc, step back from the body. Pope needs to get a few aerial shots before he can get down to the scene.” The bright flashes of the professional camera lit up the darkness. The smell of fresh blood permeated the air, and Rafe swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat.

  “Once the body has been transported, you and I are walking the scene,” she told Dean. “Only us. Keep the other guys back for now. I don’t want twenty pairs of feet trampling through this garden until we’ve cleared the area.”

  “That will piss the CSI team off. What are we looking for exactly?”

  “A discarded weapon, a swatch of cloth, a footprint, even a drop of blood left away from the kill zone.” Rafe blinked her eyes against the white lights seared into her retinas from the camera’s constant flashing. “I want to check everywhere just in case he left something this time.”

  “Are we looking for occult stuff? Because, to be honest, we’d probably need the PI’s eyes to spot stuff like that.”

  “Ms. Scott didn’t see anything obvious while we were here before. I think the drawing of bloodied wings scrawled around the body gave us all we needed to know.”

  “And that is?”

  “He’s not going to stop if he thinks he’s helping these women to ascend to a better place by giving them wings to aid on their journey.”

  “And he’s accelerated his timeline. It’s only been a few days since his last murder.”

  “He’s eluding us every time, Dean, but tonight he left us more to his signature. That has to mean something.”

  “The wings?” Dean shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I’d have settled for his name and address scribbled beside the art he’s trying to portray.”

  “Let’s hope this added detail is what leads us to him.” Rafe waited as Jim Pope stepped into the crime scene and then she waved him on to start photographing the body.

  “Another family to face,” Dean murmured. “I hate doing that. I’d rather sit by the body all day than have to face their grieving loved ones.”

  Rafe agreed. She hoped they could identify this woman to spare the family any more trauma on top of what they were going to endure. The cool night air made her shiver and she tugged up her collar against the chill. She pulled her hat even further down over her ears and stood watching the painstaking process of everything being photographed and documented. When Pope was finished, he approached Rafe and Dean.

  “Detective Douglas, why did you have me go up the fire escape?” he asked, fiddling with his camera lens.

  “You saw her from up there; why do you think?” Rafe replied.

  “The wings. I don’t recall wings at the other murders. Damn, I wish I’d have thought to go above at those.”

  “The alley ground didn’t exactly let him spread the blood how he wanted it to be seen. What we saw as scuffed areas was him trying to spread the blood out. We know better now,” Dean said.

  “My mother is very religious,” Pope said, his eyes drifting back toward the body as Dr. Alan’s men were carefully lifting her up and zipping the black bag shut. The harsh sound echoed through the garden. “She believes there are such things as angels.”

  Rafe watched the body be removed from the garden. Another daughter of Eve removed from the Garden of Eden. “Your mother is a wise woman, Pope. I guess we all need to believe in something.” She gestured to the now empty space soaked in blood. “I know it’s a gruesome request, but can you take some photos of the blood, please? Anything to show the pattern of the wings.” He hastened to do her bidding.

  “You ready to take that walk in the garden, Rafe?” Dean had borrowed a flashlight from one of the officers. He switched its bright beam on and shone it on the ground. “Do you really expect to find anything more than what we’ve found at the previous scenes?”

  “I live in hope.” Rafe wished she felt as confident. “I know we’re chasing shadows here.”

  “There’s a strange smell here. It’s the damnedest thing,” Dean said after a few steps. “Can you smell anything?”

  Rafe sniffed at the air and shook her head. “What exactly are you smelling?”

  “I swear I can smell lemons.”

  Rafe prayed her face didn’t give her away. “Must be one of the bushes they have planted here.” She unobtrusively took a step away from him.

  “Probably. It’s gone now.” Dean shone his flashlight elsewhere.

  I may never have sex again, Rafe thought, then thought better of it. New rule of detective work: wash before leaving for a crime scene to remove all and any incriminating evidence.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  It was daylight before Rafe and Dean returned to the Chicago Police Department. Alona ushered them toward the coffee and baked goodies left on a desk.

  “You are a goddess,” Dean said, gathering up three doughnuts in one hand and gulping down mouthfuls of his drink. Rafe headed straight to her desk.

  “I didn’t do anything. These goodies arrived three minutes before you probably pulled up in the parking lot.” She brought up the photographs from the latest scene.

  Frowning, Dean stared at the photos over the rim of his coffee cup. “How’d you get those so fast?”

  Ashley walked into the office.

  “Never mind,” he muttered and greeted her. “Ms. Scott.”

  “Detective Jackson.” Ashley picked up a coffee and held it out to Rafe. “Drink while you have a moment to breathe.”

  Rafe couldn’t take her eyes off her. Ashley looked bright and well rested and surprisingly chipper. In comparison, Rafe felt like shit. She was bone-numbingly tired, she ached in curious places, and her eyes felt full of grit. She tugged her hat off and tossed it aside. She accepted the coffee gratefully and sipped it much slower than she wanted to.

  “So you got a call last night saying that our killer had struck again?” Dean asked as he crammed a whole doughnut into his mouth.

  Ashley nodded. “Please don’t choke on that. There’s plenty more left.”

  Rafe was already distracted by the photographs up on the screen. She felt a hand tug at her jacket and she absently took it off, switching her coffee cup between hands and laying the jacket over her chair. Not once did her eyes leave the photos. Ashley’s warm body brushed against her side, not too close to cause the other occupants in the room to wonder, but close enough for Rafe to feel the weight of a breast. “I’d say it’s pretty clear what he’s drawing in the blood from these photos.” Alona traced the arching shapes with her finger. “Is he sending them to heaven, do you think?”

  “I don’t know what he’s doing, but he left this woman in the usual state.” Rafe asked Alona to bring up a street map alongside the photos. “The last three bodies were all in this area, left in alleys. Each of those killings gave us a gap of two weeks between them, regular as clockwork. Until last night. This time, he killed way over here.” She circled an area on the map. “He killed earlier than his usual timeframe and he switched venue. But he got to leave behind what he’d been trying to show us from killing number one.”

  “Wonder what the trigger was that tripped his switch to bring this murder forward?” Dean polished off the last bit of his final doughnut at a more measured pace. “Do you think he chose the Garden of Eden as a punch line for his sick joke with the angel wings?”

  Rafe wasn’t certain. She studied the map, wondering what the geographical profile would make of it. “Three over here, one over here. This garden hasn’t had much fanfare being built. It’s just another in the city�
��s improvement drive. The mayor thinks gardens will brighten up the areas and give people a place to go. This one is still being completed, so what does it mean to our killer? What’s its importance to him? Is it the name? The location? Was it just an opportunistic moment as another blonde walked past him?”

  Out of sight of her colleagues’ eyes, Rafe brushed her hand over Ashley’s and they linked fingers briefly. Her fatigue lessened at the touch of Ashley’s skin on her own. She wished the caffeine would kick in soon, as lack of sleep was catching up with her. “God, I’ll be glad when I’m over this damn beating.” She spoke aloud and was surprised by the looks she got. She shrugged. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m only functioning at half-speed. It’s driving me crazy.”

  Ashley steered her into a chair. “Don’t worry, Samson,” she said as she patted Rafe’s head. “Your strength will return when your hair grows back.”

  Narrowing her eyes at her, Rafe huffed. She switched topics. “Dean, how long will it be before Doc Alan will have the autopsy written up, do you think?”

  “Want me to go check on his progress?” he asked.

  “Just don’t make it look like I sent you to hurry him along.”

  “He knows you too well for me to get away with that.” He picked up another coffee and left the office.

  Alona returned to her computer screens. “Rafe, something came up this morning in the data stream. I’m not sure how much use it will be to you, but it’s to do with the search you asked me to do. The one for incidents prior to the killings?”

  Rafe wheeled her chair over. “What do you have?”

  “I did as you requested, looked for incidents in and around our area. Then I widened the search. I thought I might as well put the data streams to the test, right? Well, four months before the first killing there were reports of women being stopped on the street by a man.”

  Ashley rested against the edge of Alona’s desk to listen in.

  “They said he grabbed them, stared at them for the longest time, then let them go. The general consensus was he was seriously creepy.” She brought up a case file on the screen. “But he didn’t stop there. He started restraining the next women, pinning them against walls and brandishing a knife. Some he roughed up more, cut their clothing, bruising their arms as he held them.”