Hunter's Way

by Gerri Hill

  Sam nodded, walking toward the street, checking the cans. Tori walked beside her, letting Sam take the lead. Most of the cans were dented.

  “Green paint on this one,” Sam said, pointing. “Could be anything, but it looks fresh.”

  “Yeah.” Tori lifted the lid. The can was full. It smelled. “Great.” She looked back at the two uniforms who were standing in the alley waiting. “Sam, what’s that guy’s name again?”

  “Sanchez.”

  “Right.” Tori motioned to the two guys. “Sanchez? Find out what store this belongs to. I want to take it. Send it to the lab. I want this paint.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They squatted beside the trash can, looking at the small scrape of paint on the side.

  “He drove in here,” Tori said, “bumping the can as he tried to squeeze between it and the wall. Parked up there. Carried the body to the Dumpster. Laid her out like all the others, then walked back to his car, leaving the one footprint.”

  “Why just one?”

  “And why that far from the Dumpster?”

  “Maybe he left it on purpose,” Samantha suggested.

  “A clue? To tease us? Then we really have a sick bastard,” Tori said.

  “She was so much worse than the others,” Sam said quietly. “Why?”

  Tori shrugged. “Maybe she put up more of a fight. I don’t think she was a hooker, Sam. Her face looked too clean. There was no makeup. Her nails were short, not painted.”

  “He could have cleaned her up.”

  “Why would he do that? The other two were made up. They looked the part. Not this one.”

  Sam shrugged. She didn’t have an answer.

  69 They had barely walked into the squad room when Malone called them into his office. He shut the door behind them.

  “Captain called. Wants to know if it’s a serial for sure. If we think it is, we need to call in a profiler from CIU.”

  “The first two are definitely linked. Won’t have lab reports until tomorrow.”

  “What does your gut say, Hunter?”

  “This one is different. I’m not certain she was a hooker. The first two were. The first two were strangled. This one had her belly ripped open. The first two had clothes on. This one was naked,” Tori stated.

  “Copycat? Two murdered hookers has barely made the papers. I doubt a copycat,” he said.

  “No. She was laid out in the Dumpster like the others. But maybe our angle of hookers is wrong.”

  “What makes you think she wasn’t a hooker?”

  “She was just different.”

  “She had no makeup, Lieutenant,” Samantha said. “Her nails were short, not long and painted like the others.”

  “Hardly conclusive. Come up with something. Two hookers slipped through the papers. Three? It’ll make front page. Mayor’s office will be calling. They’ll want to send someone over for a report. I’ll try and stall them for a few days.”

  “At least until we get the lab results. I want to sit in on the autopsy tomorrow, too.”

  “You want a profiler?”

  “CIU? That ought to go over well,” Hunter said.

  “Maybe you should let Kennedy handle that part. I don’t believe she pissed them off quite as much as you did.”

  Tori was still entering notes about their case when Sam tapped her on the arm. Tori looked up wearily.

  “I’m going,” Samantha said. “It’s after six.”

  Tori nodded, then went back to her notes.

  “I know you’re tired. Why don’t you give it a rest until tomorrow?” Sam suggested quietly.

  Tori leaned back in her chair, watching Sam. Her pressed slacks were a little wrinkled now, but still neat. Her sleeves were rolled nearly to her elbows and her blond hair was in disarray. Tori knew it was from the numerous times Sam had run her hands through it during the day.

  “I just want to make sure I get all the notes in the computer, while they’re still fresh.”

  “Fresh? We’ve been going over this all day,” Samantha said. “I suppose you’ll be staying here tonight?”

  “Probably.”

  “Will you at least get dinner?”

  “Yeah. I’m on first-name basis with the pizza delivery guy.”

  “Okay. Then I won’t worry about you.”

  “I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” Tori said.

  “Well, get used to it,” Sam said as she walked away. Then she stopped. “I don’t even have your phone number. If I need you for something, how will I get in touch with you?”

  “There’s just my cell.”

  “Yes. I don’t even have that.”

  Tori pulled out her drawer and grabbed one of her cards. She scribbled her cell number on the back and handed it to Sam.

  “Thank you. Now get some rest.”

  Tori nodded. “You, too.”

  “I wish. I promised Robert I’d go to a dinner party with him. That’s the last thing I want to do.” Then she paused. “I could stay here with you and work. Then I’d have an excuse not to go,” she said hopefully.

  “You don’t want to stay here with me, Sam. Go and have a good time. At least you’ll get dinner.”

  Samantha nodded. Then she smiled and walked away, knowing that Tori would spend many more hours right there at her desk. She made a mental note to invite Tori to dinner again tomorrow after their workout.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tori blindly grabbed for the last piece of pizza, and she scanned the computer again, going over the files for all three women. She was tired and her vision was blurry, but she didn’t stop. It wasn’t adding up. It was no longer about random hookers being murdered. She was convinced the third girl wasn’t going to be lumped with the others.

  She landed again on the tattoo that Lorraine had on her arm. She had already read the report Sara supplied. It was brief. The design dated back to the early 1900s as a symbol of the first black krewe that secretly participated in Mardi Gras. It was now used by local gang members in New Orleans. Not much. Maybe the Internet could provide more.

  But an hour later, she was still surfing through yet another Web page of tattoos. So far, no match. She’d found other Mardi Gras masks that had been used as designs for tattoos, but not this one. This one was dark, evil looking. Sinister. No wonder a gang had adopted it. She had given up hope that she would find it but continued flipping through the Web pages. She very nearly skipped right over it when it popped up on her screen.

  “I’ll be damned,” she murmured.

  “You still here?”

  She jumped. She hadn’t heard Andy come in. He pushed the large trash bin in front of him, bending at Sikes’s desk to collect the trash.

  “It’s late, Detective. I got your cot all ready.”

  “Thanks, Andy. But who could sleep with all that racket down there. What’s going on?”

  “They busted up some rave. Got teenagers running all over the station.”

  She nodded, then looked back at her printout.

  “Hey. Come here a second, Andy.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.”

  “Look at this.” She pointed to the screen. “Does it match?” She held up the printout of their girl’s tattoo.

  “Well, let’s see.” He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slipped them on, peering over her shoulder at the screen, then to the paper.

  “Yup,” he said. “Appears the same.” Then he took the printout. “Except this here has that circle thing at the bottom.”

  “Let me see.” She took the printout and squinted. Yes, at the bottom of their tattoo was a circle with a… damn, a female symbol. She looked back to the screen, then clicked on “variations.” Four came up. One had the female symbol. She clicked on that.

  “I’ll be damned,” she murmured as she read. “Thanks, Andy.”

  “Sure thing.” He walked on, emptying wastebaskets as he went.

  “You hardly said two words all night,” Robert complained as they got ready fo
r bed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just really, really tired,” she said. She brushed her teeth, then sidestepped him as she walked into his bedroom. She should have gone home. Damn, she should have stayed at the office with Tori. The dinner party had been unbearable. All she could think about was the case and the autopsy she would have to sit through in the morning. It had been years since she’d done an autopsy, and the last thing she wanted was to get squeamish in front of Tori.

  “If you were that tired, we could have stayed home.”

  “Robert, these are your colleagues. You couldn’t have stayed home.” She pulled back the covers and crawled under, sighing heavily.

  “I just wish you had, you know, enjoyed yourself.”

  “I got dinner,” she said, echoing Tori’s words. “That’s all that mattered,” she said quietly, rolling over and closing her eyes. She felt him crawl in beside her, felt his arm as he snaked it around her waist. She didn’t move.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tori was in much the same position that Samantha had left her. Staring at her computer, one hand on the mouse, chin resting in the palm of the other hand. Sam walked over and set a cup of cappuccino in front of her.

  “How can you possibly look so fresh and rested?”

  “What do you mean?” Tori asked as she pulled the lid off the coffee. “Mmm, thanks.”

  “How late did you work?”

  Tori shrugged. “Not late.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t sleep much.”

  “You look like you got eight hours.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot.”

  “How did your dinner party go?”

  “It was awful.” Samantha sat down and pulled off her own lid, sipping quietly at her coffee. “I was so tired and the last thing I wanted was to be at a dinner party with defense lawyers telling war stories.”

  “Is that what he is?”

  “Yes. And he loves it.”

  “Someone’s got to do it,” Tori said. She went back to her computer, flipping through the notes she’d made last night.

  Samantha watched her. She really did look rested. Maybe she’d taken her advice and made an early night of it. She looked… well, fresh. Her dark hair was as neat as always. Her ever-present jeans were complemented this morning with a light blazer.

  “You look nice,” she said.

  “Nice?”

  “The jacket. What’s the occasion?”

  Tori grinned. “Ran out of clothes here. The T-shirt is dirty.”

  Samantha sighed and shook her head.

  “When do you do laundry?”

  “When I run out of clothes.”

  “So tonight?”

  “No. I have a stash at my apartment.”

  “Can we do a workout?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  “Yes. I’m still sore, but I want to continue.” She flexed her muscles. Yes, definitely sore. “Dinner?”

  Tori raised her eyebrows.

  “After our workout,” Sam explained.

  “Sure, if you’ve got time.”

  “I have time. Besides, I know I’ll be starving. After this autopsy, I doubt I’ll want to eat for the rest of the day.”

  “I guess at Assault you didn’t have much occasion to witness an autopsy, huh?”

  “It’s been years,” Sam admitted.

  “You can skip it,” Tori offered. She remembered the first time she’d done an autopsy with Kaplan. He’d barely left the room before losing his breakfast. She’d never let him live it down. She wondered why she was offering Sam an out now.

  “I will not. We’re partners. In everything.”

  They both looked up as Donaldson walked over. In the few weeks Samantha had been here, she’d hardly spoken to the guy.

  “Kinda need some help, Hunter,” he said hesitantly.

  “What’s up, Donaldson?”

  “Gay bars? How well do you know them?”

  Tori glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

  “Black clubs? How well do you know them, Donaldson?”

  “I’m just asking for some help here, Hunter.”

  She leaned back, glancing at Samantha, who nodded and gave her a slight smile.

  “Okay. What do you want?”

  “We have a transvestite. He was… damn near decapitated. His landlord found him this morning. We’ve got two club stamps on him.” Donaldson looked at his notes. “One from Changes, the other from the Pink Lagoon.”

  “You and Adams got this case?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’ll bet you’re both going to be busting your ass trying to solve it.”

  “Just doing our job, Hunter. Do you know the clubs?” he asked..

  “You would think Changes would be for the transgender crowd, but it’s not. The Pink Lagoon caters mostly to them.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You and Adams going down there?”

  He nodded.

  “That ought to be fun,” she drawled. “Wish we could come and watch.” Then she leaned forward. “Be careful. Adams might get hit on,” she teased. “Make sure he knows that they’re really men under all those dresses.”

  Samantha covered the smile on her face as Donaldson’s eyes widened.

  “We’ll manage, Hunter.”

  Tori shook her head, then grinned at Sam.

  “Homophobic. Both of them. Trust me, that case will never get solved.”

  “Neither one of them have really spoken to me, you know. How long will it take before they accept me?”

  “They’re assholes. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Is that your way of saying they won’t ever accept me?”

  “No. They’ll warm up. You’re pretty. You’re straight. If you do a good job, they’ll warm up. Well, Adams may not, but Donaldson will.”

  “It’s because you’re gay, right?”

  “What?”

  “That they treat you like this.”

  Tori grinned. “No. It’s because I’m a bitch.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “What? That I’m a bitch?”

  “Well, if you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago…” Sam said. “But you put on a good front.”

  “Oh? And you think you’ve broken through? That you’ve seen the real me?”

  “Yes.”

  Tori stared at her for the longest moment.

  “I don’t know what the real me is anymore,” she said quietly.

  “I think you do.”

  They stared at each other across the desks, then Tori nodded. Sam smiled.

  “Come on. We’ve got an autopsy. I’ll fill you in on what I found out last night.”

  Samantha pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse, following Tori.

  “I knew you worked last night. Did you even eat?”

  “Pizza.” Then Tori tossed Sam the keys. “You drive.”

  “You really think she was gay?” Samantha asked as they walked into the lab. “She was a hooker. Is that possible?”

  Tori stopped. “She was a hooker. That was her job. It wasn’t making love, Sam. It was sex for money. When she wasn’t working, yes, I think she was gay.”

  “I don’t know, Tori. Just because the tattoo was a lesbian gang, that doesn’t prove anything. She was a hooker.”

  “We’ll follow up with that later. Let’s see what turns up today.”

  Jackson had already started when they walked in. Samantha stood back, away from the body. A sheet still covered her torso.

  “You’re late,” he said. “I’ve already done a prelim.”

  “Hope we didn’t miss anything.”

  “Got your skin samples from under the nails,” he said. “We got a hair, too, but no skin tag.” He pulled back the sheet and Samantha gasped. “Sorry, Detective.” He pointed at her neck. “Bruising around the neck, indicative of the others but that’s not what killed her. The wounds at her midsection were not postmortem.�
�

  “Time of death? Rita thought after midnight.”

  “Sounds right. Stomach was empty. What was left of it, anyway. She had been sodomized. Brutally. I found wood fibers in the rectum, there was hemorrhaging,” he stated.

  “I’m looking for a semen match,” Tori said.

  “Yes, I know. We’ll have DNA this afternoon. I’ll have the lab do a rush.”

  Samantha stared as they walked around the body. She watched Tori’s impassive face, then Dr. Jackson’s. They didn’t seem affected at all. She was thankful she’d not taken the time for breakfast.

  “There is bruising on her legs and arms. Look here.” He pointed. “Her wrists were bound. We have rope fibers. Well, two,” he said. “I’ll match them with the ones we found on the second victim.”

  “What was she cut with?”

  “My guess is a serrated kitchen knife or maybe a bread knife. The initial wound was here.” He pointed. “Then the killer pulled up on the knife, up to her sternum. It lodged here.” He showed Hunter. “I’ll be able to get some markings off the bone. If you can find a knife, we can match it.”

  “Sam, take a look…” Tori stopped when she saw the whiteness of Samantha’s face. She walked over quietly, standing in front of her, blocking the body. She waited until Sam met her eyes. “Why don’t you get some air?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ll finish up here. Get some air.”

  Sam swallowed, then turned and walked quickly from the room. Tori turned back to Jackson and shrugged.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. At least she didn’t throw up all over the floor like Kaplan.”

  “Yeah. I was afraid it was about to come to that, though.”

  A half hour later, Tori found Samantha sitting on a bench outside in the sunshine. She walked over and sat beside her.

  “You okay?”

  Sam stared straight ahead, her anger returning.

  “I wish you hadn’t embarrassed me like that.”

  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Sam. You were as white as a sheet.”

  Sam finally turned her head and looked at Tori. But Tori’s eyes were warm, concerned. Her anger disappeared. Tori hadn’t sent her out of the room to embarrass her in front of Dr. Jackson. She’d simply been concerned about her.