“Detective Laws, if you will, please.”
“Okay. Detective Laws, do you think she’s Megalo Don? Do you think she’s been killing those girls and chewing them up like that?”
“She could be his accomplice.”
“You’ve lost your perspective for personal reasons, Detective Laws. You’re guessing, and guessing doesn’t cut it in court. You need to get your shit together.”
This is starting to feel like theatre of the absurd, and I don’t do ridiculous well. “Fuck this,”I say. Turning from her, I start walking toward NPD’s front entry. If DeeDee’s going to shoot me, now’s her chance. “We’ve got a meeting to get to,”I say. “Standing out here arguing isn’t getting us anywhere on this case.”
“They found Robin Colby’s overnight bag in that Coca-Cola truck,”DeeDee says, catching up. “What about that?”
“I have no idea what was in Robin Colby’s overnight bag, or what it was doing in that Coke truck,”I say, absorbing DeeDee’s point. Agreed: it doesn’t look good, his overnight bag in that truck, but I keep arguing. “Maybe whoever planted the shoulder in Alaina’s fridge put the overnight bag in that truck.”
“That’s what you want to believe,”DeeDee says. “Now who’s guessing, Detective?”
The remark shocks me. DeeDee’s right. I keep making up reasons not to believe Robin’s Megalo Don. Why am I refuting the possibility?
Was the sex that good?
Damn straight, it was.
Pissed, more at myself than DeeDee, I ignore her. Alaina doesn’t need defending. She’s done nothing. My good mood, left over from last night like the residue fumes from a heady perfume, is evaporating fast.
“Robin Colby’s on probation, you know. You read the background report on those Colbys.”
I stop and turn toward her. Standing toe-to-toe with DeeDee, I keep my voice calm. “Why are you so down on the Colbys?”
“They’re deadbeats, criminals. They’re . . . trash.”
“In your opinion.”
I disagree with her on that point, partly, but can’t deny that at least the mother and, possibly, the brother are exactly that—trash. But Alaina isn’t.
“They’ve led a crime wave in Goshen for years,”DeeDee says.
My mistake was having DeeDee do background on the Colbys. I should’ve done it myself. Still, it’s water under the bridge. I’ve now got to deal with my screw-up. DeeDee would have gotten her hands on the information by now anyway.
“Does that make Alaina a piece of trash, too? Is that what you’re getting at? Is that the real reason you’re pissed? You don’t like her because you’re jealous?” I fight the anger seeping into my voice. DeeDee has gone too far. Alaina Colby is none of her business. “Because if you are—”
She steps back. “Why, I believe y’all have gone and lost your temper with me, Detective.”
“Damn straight. You’re the rookie. I’m team lead, so if I want to bed a witness, or if I want to fuck Megalo Don himself, I will. Got it? So stay the fuckout of my personal life, DeeDee.”
“And your professional life, too, Aidan? What about that?”
She’s threatening me with her mother. I shrug. I’m done with her. “I’ll ask Captain Meyers to transfer you to a different partner.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself,”she says, tailing me.
I mount the steps and head for the station’s front door.
“You’re such a bastard.”
“You’re not the first woman to call me that.”
Alaina had, too. But in her case I’d only gone to her apartment to warn her. I can’t say truthfully I hadn’t hoped she’d at least kiss me, or that she’d agree to go on a date. But the result of last night’s visit with her far exceeded my initial goal. However, I have no regrets. In fact, I’ve every intention of repeating it, once I find a way to work out our differences.
“I hope my mother gets you fired,”DeeDee says.
Ever the gentleman, albeit a bastard, I open NPD’s front door for her. “Ladies first,”I say, smiling. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before DeeDee Laws’ mother gets me fired. My family’s a network of judges and lawyers. Who’s hers?
“Your mother’s the mayor,”I say, feeling small but unable stop myself from speaking harshly,“so I’m betting she’ll protect her ass over yours and do what’s best for Newport, which doesn’t include keeping you on the force.”
“Oh, you think because you slept with my mother she’ll do you any favors?”
She strides ahead of me, shoving through the thick glass doors. Turning, she gives me one last scathing glare. “Yeah, I know about you and her. For the record, I don’t give a damn. I know you’re a man whore, but I’m still going to make your life a living hell, Hawks.”
“I guess this means our date’s off for tonight?”
She’s already marched inside.
I follow. It’s going to be a long day, if DeeDee has her way. I was right when I guessed she’d turn venomous. What’d she say?
I’ll make your life a living hell?
The only living hell I can imagine is one in which Alaina Colby doesn’t figure prominently.
Chapter 42
Every organization’s got its proverbial water cooler, where rumors get started and spread. NPD’s is the kitchen off sixth floor conference room. I’ve never thought I’d be the source of those rumors, but when Wes stops to grab a cup of coffee, I learn—I am.
Since suffering DeeDee’s outburst in the parking lot, I’m growing a mood blacker than the sludge Wes dumps from the pot, so it doesn’t help when he says,“I gotta tell you, Laws is boiling mad,”he says. “What’d you do to that poor little girl?”
“Sick bastard, you watched, didn’t you?”I say, catching the mischievous gleam in Wes’ eyes. We’d been partners before Meyers busted us up, sticking me with breaking in the force’s rookie, DeeDee Laws. Wes and I are like brothers.
“Guess the Captain wants to see me?”I say, gulping coffee. “Damn, this tastes good. I need it.”
“Mayor Laws is in there with him,”Wes says, nodding toward the conference room as we leave the kitchen. “She’s called for a case review. Meyers is pretty riled. It won’t help that you’re late.”
“Did he watch the fight in the parking lot?”
“He did. Still won’t cut you any slack, though,”Wes says,“although you’ve got my sympathy. C’mon, let’s go get your flogging, bro.”
I nod. Captain Meyers is Mayor Darlene Laws’ lap dog. He’ll do whatever she asks. “Guess I’m in for it, huh?”I say, and wink. I’m not too worried he’s going to try to cut me from the force. He can’t get it done. My family’s got too much pull. Still, I don’t need this right now. The case requires my full attention.
Wes swings a wiry arm around my shoulders and then wallops me center mass. “Yep, Hawks, you’re in deeper than flies in my grandma’s shithouse.”
I laugh. Small and wiry and mean as hell. “Devil Anse II,”the murderers he’s convicted, and his NPD brothers, call Wes, usually with less than full admiration. Wes migrated to Kentucky from West Virginia, home of the infamous Hatfields and McCoys. I like him, though, most of the time. He and I are just two old homicide buds, partners. We can read each other’s minds, but I’ve learned the hard way he can be quirky, unpredictable.
“What’s going on with the little honey from Omar’s?” He laughs when I choke on my coffee. More rumors. Damn.
“Don’t deny it. It’s all over NPD. You got busted with your pants down this morning at her place, bro.”
My thoughts turn to Alaina, the chief source I’m certain of this morning’s rumor mill. “Let’s discuss her over a beer at Buffalo Wild Wings. Right now I’ve got to focus on finding Megalo Don.”
“Sure thing, Hawks. Your FBI buddy’s in there waiting on you, too.”
“SAC Smith?” I say, and then I tell him about the FBI agent who’d scoffed when I arrived late at the scene where Megalo dumped his most recent vic’s body. �
�You know anything about why the FBI was at that scene last night?”
“Not sure,”Wes says. “Maybe the latest vic, the one whose shoulder showed up in Alaina Colby’s fridge, was murdered in some other state, and then dumped across a state line.”
“Maybe,”I say, nodding,“but he could also be snooping around because of Meera. No one knows her state of origin. Maybe she’s from Florida. Hell, maybe she’s not even from the U.S. Who knows?”
“There’s always the chance Sheriff Cornwell screwed up, and Meyers invited the Feds in to help with the case.”
“Yeah, I know,”I say, mulling over Wes’ comments. But same as before, same as I told DeeDee, it’s all speculation, guess work. SAC Smith is here for only one other reason I can think of. I didn’t permit myself to contemplate that reason last night. This morning, however, as I conjure an adequate greeting for Darlene when I hit that meeting—“Nice to see you again, Mayor Laws, outside the bedroom. No, sorry, but I’ve no idea who’s killing all these women and dumping them in your alley”—I have to consider the third option, the one I didn’t want to at all last night.
And want to even less this morning.
“C’mon, Hawks,”Wes says. “Face the music.”
* * *
First thing I see when I walk into the meeting, other than DeeDee still looking ready to kill, is Mayor Darlene Laws, DeeDee’s mother. Her presence at the head of the conference table is no surprise. Darlene’s Newport’s mayor, and I know well how she has to be on top—in everything. Darlene’s smile, a more worn version of her daughter’s, freezes when she sees me. I don’t expect her to be as crazy about me as she once was, not after the way I cut her loose, but a little civility would be nice.
“Mayor Laws, nice to see you again—”
“Detective Hawks, have you seen this?”
I stare at the Cincinnati Enquirer, which the honorable Mayor Laws holds off to her side like a beautifully aging TV game show hostess. If she’s not careful, she’ll break her index finger pointing at the headline.
I glace around the room. Darlene’s passed out copies to all, including Captain Meyers, Wes, and Sheriff Cornwell, who has claimed his favorite seat by SAC Smith.
The headline screams: Police-FBI Find Frozen Body in Serial Murder Suspect’s Apartment.
Below the fold, where everyone can read it and arrive at their own conclusions, another article reads: NPD Detective Involved with Murder Suspect’s Sister?
I want to choke DeeDee. I’d been right. She’d tailed me to Alaina’s apartment. Figuring out I’d stayed all night—and all the other lascivious details—she’d called her compatriot at the Enquirerand given Stewart the headline. Controlling my anger, I keep my steady gaze on the newspaper Darlene’s holding.
“That headline’s inaccurate. There was no body,”I say,“only a shoulder.”
But why argue? I don’t know what Captain Meyer’s has or hasn’t told Mayor Laws about the investigation and, frankly, I don’t care. Besides, word’s out in print now, and it can’t be retracted. It’s borderline libel, but since it’s worded as a question and I’m a quasi public figure and my name’s not used, I don’t have much of a case against DeeDee or the Enquirer. It’s not my fault, but the thing I hate is that it’s just one more problem Newport PD now has to contend with, when we need our attention focused on finding Megalo Don. Still, it’s hard not to miss that accusing headline, even tougher not to realize who was responsible.
I gaze at DeeDee for the first time since entering the conference room and make a decision on the spot. I can engage on her level, or I can stick to my guns and ride this out. I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’m not going to be intimidated. I’ll also not sink to her level. I was tasked with mentoring her. I’m going to teach her the ultimate lesson, one every street criminal knows: never roll over on your partner. My focus this morning has to be on the investigation, not the character assassination campaign DeeDee has mounted against me. Her behavior, partly due to ambition, partly due to personal jealousy, is predictable. I wish I could say I saw it coming.
Feeling Wes’ amused gaze, I ignore my former partner. The headline wasn’t even the one I’d at first expected. I thought Stewart might have printed the story from last night’s crime scene in the alley, but he must’ve decided not to, maybe because that was a Newport headline. I’ve no doubt, however, that a headline as lurid as this morning’s Enquirer’sis soon going to be plastered all over this morning’s Newport Gazette.
“I don’t know who gave the Enquirerthat scoop,”I say, gazing directly into DeeDee’s and then into Mayor Laws’ eyes. It’s a lie, but giving up DeeDee to her draconian mother isn’t going to happen. It’s a point of honor with me. It’s a lesson DeeDee needs to learn. You don’t roll over on partners, not even venomous shits like DeeDee. I instead teach them lessons. Why? I was a rookie once, and someone had to teach me.
“No one on my team would do something like this,”Captain Meyers says, struggling to take control of the meeting.
Everyone gives him respectful nods. The man’s Darlene’s lackey, but he’s still captain. The moment is uncomfortable, with everyone glancing around the conference table, trying to figure out who gave the Enquirer this awful scoop and who, of a more prurient interest, is the NPD detective involved with the murder suspect’s sister?
Most gazes land briefly on Sheriff Cornwell, then pass to Wes, then land on me. What had Wes said? The word’s all over NPD. Damn, I hate rumors, especially when they’re true and even worse when I’m the one bearing their brunt.
I shoot Wes a grin. He’s no one’s lackey, certainly not Mayor Laws’. In fact, everyone sitting at the table knows better than to even imagine he’s the NPD detective hob-nobbing with Megalo’s sister.
I wait. I want DeeDee to confess. She doesn’t, which means I’m going to have to take Mayor Laws’ heat for the Enquirer article.
“It’s time to stop dicking around and lay our cards on the table,”FBI Special Agent in Charge, Roger Smith says. “We all know who’s responsible for the article,”he adds. “What’s important now isn’t worrying about how unprofessional some of us are”—his gaze, upbraiding and disapproving, searches out DeeDee—“but it’s about locking down evidence and linking it to a suspect. We’ve worked behind the scenes so far, but it’s time we all worked together on this case.”
“Thank you,”I nod.
I bear no good will—nor any ill will—to the FBI suits who’ve inserted themselves into this investigation. Instead, I smile with relief, watching SAC Smith guide a chair to the other end of the conference table, scooting Captain Meyers out of the way.
“We’ve got a serial killer on our hands in this Megalo Don character,”SAC Smith says, taking charge. “What do you all know about what he’s been doing in Ohio?”
We stare, our surprised looks proving his implied point: we know nothing about Megalo’s activities in Ohio. Wes chews a frayed toothpick. The way he gazes at SAC Smith, who proceeds to fill us in, makes me worry he’s measuring the FBI agent for a coffin. Wes is clearly ready to squeeze the information out of SAC Smith for no other reason than the hell of it. Over the past six years, I’ve learned that Wes tolerates suits and bureaucrats even less than he does rookies like DeeDee Laws. Must be left over from his family’s having to fight revenuers.
“He’s been killing women in Ohio, hasn’t he?”I say.
Everyone in the room turns speculating gazes toward me, the NPD detective who cavorts with Megalo Don’s sister, if the Enquirerarticle’s to be believed, and then curiously back to SAC Smith.
“He has,”SAC Smith agrees. “In fact, he’s murdered several. Now let’s get down to business and review what we’ve got.”
Chapter 43
I start the case review by discussing what all three victims, including Meera and Angie Miller, plus our Jane Doe from the alley last night, have in common, starting from fact and then moving to possibility. It’s standard operating procedure.
“He’s killed tw
o young girls from Omar’s bar and left his signature on their shoulders.”
“You’ve verified this forensically?”SAC Smith asks.
“Yes,”I say, glad for Wes’ help with HVO, and even more glad I’d paid attention when Bite Doc explained Hollow Volume Overlay. “Doctor Brick Verbote took impressions of both girls’ wounds,”I explain,“and he’s verified that they belong to the same perp—to Megalo Don.”
SAC Smith interjects. “You’re right. I got the report Verbote sent to the Scientific Analysis Section’s hair and fiber division. He sent his renderings, too, and we ran them against our database. Doctor Verbote’s renderings match the ones we submitted to him for impressions and analysis, but”—he holds up a hand to stop the buzz of excitement—“the problem is this. Few of our databases as yet contain offenders’ odontological impressions.”
There’s a collective sigh of disappointment. Mayor Laws, who has no clue what SAC Smith is talking about, moves a chair closer to the end of the table. She wants to be where the action is, on and off duty. From her shrewd scrutiny of SAC Smith’s smooth-shaved face and sturdy frame conditioned at Quantico, I figure she’s got her cap set for him. I feel for him, but I’m glad I’m no longer her target.
Not that I didn’t enjoy being with Darlene: I did. I no longer want anyone else. Alaina Colby satisfied me completely, left me hoping for more. So if there’s going to be any further bite wound identification—any‘odontological analyses’ in Darlene Law’s world—I’m happy to let her take bites from SAC Smith’s nice white-collar neck, not mine.
“So your analyses, Bite Doc’s renderings, prove what?” Wes grumbles, switching his toothpick impatiently from one corner of his mouth to the other. My former partner and good bud is clearly battening down the NPD hatches, locking down the case, collecting facts.
“The same man’s killed all seven women in Ohio and three in Kentucky,”the SAC says.
“And he’s taking two teeth from each vic?”I ask. “As trophies?”
Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) Page 29