Better the Devil You Don't Know

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Thank you, Captain. I’d very much like to help catch the person who wants to kill me,” Celine replied.

  *

  Before we went into the interrogation room, we observed him from the booth. It was a typical interview room like all the others — metal table, metal chairs, noise-reducing walls, no windows. The suspect sat across from the one-way mirror, his hands on his legs, looking relaxed but cautious.

  “He doesn’t look very worried,” Celine stated.

  “No, in fact, his body language indicates that he’s not,” I added. “That he has nothing to hide.”

  “That’s actually pretty typical for a serial killer,” a familiar voice behind us interjected.

  We all turned to look at the intruder, and I recognized Bobbie immediately.

  “My, God. What are you doing here?” I asked, shaking her hand with a quick hug and slap to the back.

  “We think you have our serial killer,” she replied.

  “Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing in my interrogation booth?” Captain Simmons asked tersely.

  “Oh, sorry. You must be Captain Simmons. I’m Special Agent Bobbie Vandyke with the FBI, Houston division.” Bobbie pulled out her badge and ID card and handed it to the captain, who examined it and handed it back to her.

  “And why is Houston so far from its jurisdiction?” the captain asked.

  “Actually, someone up here requested an alert from the FBI if CODIS found DNA from extracted teeth. That’s the connection between your serial killer and ours, so headquarters temporarily transferred me to the Boulder division because I’m lead agent on the Houston case. And now that your boy has four kills, it’s in the FBI’s purview to investigate.” Bobbie looked at me curiously. “Casey, are you the lead detective on this case? Damn, what a small world that would be.”

  As great as it was to see a familiar face from home, Bobbie’s voice brought back the vision of blood on her hands from where she tried to save the boy. I dug my hand into my pocket and squeezed the bullet until the pain forced my mind back to the present.

  “No, that would be me,” Becky snorted, obviously not pleased. “Detective Rebecca Littleton.”

  “Hey, good to meet you, kid,” Bobbie said, glancing quickly at her before looking at me again.

  “I’m not on the police force anymore, Bobbie,” I explained. “I work at the hospital now.”

  “Oh, well, too bad. You were damn good,” she replied.

  “Thanks. So is Becky, here. She knows her stuff,” I said, wondering why I felt the need to brace the probie up.

  “And will the FBI work beside us or over us?” Simmons asked pointedly.

  “Beside you, of course,” Bobbie answered.

  Captain Simmons gave her a dubious stare. My captain had been the same way when she waltzed into his office. I had no doubt she would win over Captain Simmons just as she did my captain.

  “They were just about to go in and interrogate the suspect. Would you like to observe?” the captain asked.

  “No, I’d rather interrogate him myself,” Bobbie rebounded.

  “Not without me, you’re not,” Becky protested. “He’s my catch, and I’ll be the one to break him.”

  “Fine, you take the lead if you want, Detective. But I know the particulars from the Houston murders, so I think we can come at him from different angles and knock him off kilter.”

  “I guess you won’t have to go in after all, Chief Dennis,” the captain said.

  Bobbie glanced at me. “You were going to question him, Casey?”

  Nodding, I explained, “Long story short, I’m the Chief of Security at the hospital where the last murder took place in our parking lot. This guy hit me up for a job. I don’t need to be in there, but I would like to be.”

  “Sure, it’ll be like old times,” Bobbie asserted.

  Captain Simmons pulled Becky to the side and I had a bad feeling about what they were talking about. Becky glanced at me, her face red, her lips pursed. My first thought was to back off; this wasn’t my house.

  “Listen, Captain, it’s okay,” I said loud enough to interrupt their arguing. “It’s Becky’s find; she should be in there.”

  “Very perceptive, Casey, but it’s not about ego here,” Captain Simmons stated. “It’s my call, and Becky will sit this one out.”

  Becky was glaring at Bobbie. Can’t say that I blamed her. I would be pretty pissed, too. I thought about insisting on staying out, but then I looked at Celine, who had been observing the politics. It wasn’t in me to stand by and do nothing when someone I cared about was involved. And in that instance, I admitted to myself that I did care about her, and not just for the possibilities of sex either, although that was certainly a good incentive to get this case solved quickly.

  “It’s all right, Casey,” Becky said. “Show the FBI how it’s done.”

  “Damn straight, I will,” I boasted, winking at Bobbie.

  When I was in the hospital, Bobbie came to see me often. Bobbie was older than me by six years, but she always acted younger. She and Michele have that in common. After I got out of the hospital and tried to drown my sorrows in women and whiskey, she was one of the women I slept with to numb the guilt. I think she might have wanted more, but I wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with it then. I’m still not sure that I am. Not with her and the memories she represented. Who knows, maybe working with her again will replace the bad memories with good ones. She was really fun to work with and knew her business.

  “Hi, Terry. Remember me?” I asked causally as Bobbie and I walked into the room.

  He seemed relieved to see me. “Yeah, you’re the security lady from the hospital.”

  “That I am. And this is Special Agent Bobbie Vandyke with the FBI. Terry, were you read your rights when you were arrested?” I was sure they had been read to him, but I wanted it on the recording as further proof. If this was our guy, I’m not letting him get off on a technicality.

  “Yes, but I didn’t do what they say I did. I would never hurt anyone.”

  “Then help us prove it,” I said pointedly.

  “Fuck that. Why are we even bothering with this guy?” Bobbie growled. “We’ve got him dead to rights.”

  I leaned back in my chair and covered my mouth with my hand. Bobbie leaned back also. “I thought I was playing the bad cop?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “You were the bad cop last time. Kiss his ass and let me hang it out to dry.”

  Bobbie and I grilled a suspect who we thought was an accomplice to Harold Brooks, the man who kidnapped the little boy. We worked on the suspect for over an hour until we broke him and he told us where to find Brooks. I got to play the bad cop on that one. But now, I needed to distance myself from those memories so I could concentrate on playing the good cop. Still, it’s much more fun to play the bad guy.

  Nodding at Bobbie, I leaned my elbows on the cold metal table and gazed at Terry. “Terry, were you in the Boulder Mental Wellness Center on September 23?”

  He stared at me incredulously. “I work there, I mean in the building, so yeah, I probably was.”

  I continued unperturbed. “And were you at the Angelstone Women’s and Children’s Center on October 24?”

  “No, why should I be?”

  “This is a waste of time,” Bobbie growled and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms.

  I made a point of rolling my eyes at her where Terry could see it. “Perhaps you were coming to see me about that job opening I had.”

  “No, I told you. I wasn’t at the hospital.”

  “I’m not a cop, Terry. It’s okay to admit you were just looking for a job.”

  Bobbie slammed her hand on the table, and I had to pinch my lips together to keep from laughing. Terry was startled, which of course was the reaction Bobbie was hoping for.

  “She may not be a cop, but I am,” she snarled. “Did you kill that woman?”

  “No! No, I didn’t. I promise,” he squeaked, his voice an octave high
er than normal.

  “Terry, she thinks you did it because the police confiscated your dental tools and found blood on one of them that looked to be fairly recent.”

  He looked from me to Bobbie, his eyes filling with a questioning fear. Was it fear because he knew that he was trapped, or because he was innocent and afraid he couldn’t prove it? I’ve seen many an innocent person panic under the pressure.

  Bobbie jumped up and leaned over the table, taking Terry by the collar and shouting, “Where are the damn teeth, Terry?”

  A look of vindication crossed his face as he pointed at his mouth. Bobbie let go of him, and he hooked his finger in his mouth and pulled the cheek back. He tried to talk and his words came out garbled, but it was plain to see the gum where a tooth should have been.

  “Do you expect us to believe that you pulled your own tooth?” Bobbie asked, sitting back down.

  “It’s the truth,” he protested. “Why pay a dentist when I can yank it out myself?”

  That raised the question I had been wondering about. “Terry, why did you drop out of dental school?”

  His face fell, and he looked to the left as if the answer was there. Classic signs. He was either thinking up a cover story or which part of the truth he wanted to tell us. He had a skeleton in his closet, and we were going to find it.

  “We’re going to find out anyway,” Bobbie threatened.

  He hesitated, and I pounded my fist on the table. He jumped. So did Bobbie, which almost made me blow my cover again trying to stifle the laugh in my throat. “Tell us, damn it,” I demanded.

  “I was kicked out, okay,” he relented, pushing back from the table.

  “Why?” Bobbie asked.

  “I went a little crazy with the laughing gas and got fresh with another student.”

  He was lying. I could see it in his eyes. So could Bobbie.

  “Tell us the damn truth,” she insisted.

  He crossed his arms and glared at us. “I raped a student who was drunk.”

  I heard a gasp from the booth and knew it had to be Celine. Of course she’d be upset knowing a rapist worked in her building. Escorted her to her car at night. Helped her lock up the office after everyone had left. The thought of a rapist being that close to Celine made my blood begin to boil.

  He held his hands up, shaking his head. “But I served my two years and just paid off the fine. I’m a new man now, I promise.”

  Turning to Bobbie, I said coldly, “The one thing I hate almost as much as murderers and child molesters, are rapists. They violate a woman in the most private of ways, taking away her self-worth and self-esteem and all they get for their punishment is a measly two years in prison. Personally, I have always been a proponent of public castration.”

  “Really?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye. “So have I. We’ll just have to settle for the death penalty on this one, I guess.”

  Bobbie and I both stood up and walked over to the door.

  “No, no! I didn’t do it!” Terry yelled.

  “Get comfy, Mr. Wilkerson,” Bobbie said as she walked out the door.

  “And you can forget about ever working for me,” I added, following Bobbie out and shutting the door behind me.

  We went into the observance booth where Becky, Celine and Captain Simmons were waiting for us.

  “You got the bastard,” Becky said as soon as we walked in.

  “Yep. It was almost too easy,” Bobbie confessed. “I’ll need to interrogate him again to connect all the murders, but I think we’ve got our man.”

  Bobbie, Becky and Captain Simmons began strategizing as I stood back and analyzed what we had learned. Everything about him matched our serial killer; rape, tooth extraction, security guard. But Becky only found the one tooth, the DNA analysis hadn’t come in yet, and the guy just didn’t seem narcissistic or maniacal enough.

  Celine walked over and leaned against the wall beside me. “You got him, Casey.”

  I gazed down at the relieved look on her face. “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Michele Michaels

  Was I floating? It felt like my feet weren’t touching the ground, and I was floating through the halls of the hospital, spreading love and good cheer to everyone I met. Maybe I was dead and this was heaven. Lula had been right; it was indescribable ecstasy last night and again this morning. As much for her as for me. She only wanted to please me, but I couldn’t be that selfish. I had to know that I could please her also, and from the shocked look on her face when I released her and she screamed at the apex, I’d say she was pretty pleased.

  We walked into the hospital holding hands, but then, knowing the chief’s dictate about relationships in the department, we assumed the façade of co-workers. But we could never be just co-workers again. We had transcended onto a higher plane. A lover’s plane where the air smelled like roses and the clouds looked like soft pillows inviting us to lay down and have sex on them. That’s where my head was at this morning, floating in the clouds.

  Lula nudged my shoulder and asked, “Are you ever going to tell me how you did that last night?”

  Giggling like a teenager, I shook my head. “No, I’m not. But if you’re a very good girl today, I’ll do it again.”

  I was cursed with my mother’s bad teeth. She had to have all of hers pulled in her thirties. I’ve worn an upper denture for nearly twenty years now, and absolutely no one but my dentist knows it and no one ever will. But life compensates for what you don’t have. Without my teeth to hold me back, I could go deeper inside of Lula and manipulate her, possess her, caress her, and catch her when she came. It was as satisfying for me to know that I could still make a woman scream as it was to scream with her.

  “All right, keep you little secrets,” Lula sulked. “I’ll learn them all eventually.”

  “If it pleasures you then why question it?” I asked as we stepped into the stairwell.

  “Because.” Her voice bounced off the walls as it echoed up the well. “I want to learn so I can make you as happy as you made me.”

  “Oh, honey. That’s not even a possibility.”

  Her eyes squinted as she laughed, the sound resonating in the stairwell. “That makes me very happy to know,” she said as we walked out and down the hall.

  We both swiped our badges at the time clock on the wall, and then walked into the office. I tossed my purse on my desk and went straight to the coffeemaker.

  “Listen, I’m going to run upstairs and check on Ms. Thomas and be right back,” Lula said, turning on all the lights and checking the conference room. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here,” I assured her.

  “Good.” She looked around again and then quickly kissed me on the cheek.

  My heart flushed with warmth as I watched her walk out the door. Damn, what a fine ass she has. The memory of my hands squeezing her butt checks had me simmering again. Oh no, can’t do that at work. With the coffee percolating, I opened the chief’s office and turned on the light, then I went back to my desk and locked my purse up in the filing cabinet. We had overslept, and I was running late in my morning duties. Shift change briefing was in thirty minutes, and I still needed to go to the cafeteria for the bagels. Waking my computer up, I logged in and checked my emails for anything urgent, which thankfully there wasn’t anything. Then I left the office and took the stairs up to the first floor, rather, I should say, I floated up the stairs to the first floor and glided into the cafeteria.

  By the time I got the bagels, I was running really late, so I practically ran down the hall and flew into the stairwell. Just as I stepped out onto the ground floor, I was grabbed by the arm.

  “Michele, I need your help.”

  “Byron? Um, should you be here?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Casey Dennis

  I’m not sure how, but I managed to piss off two women at the same time last night. A new record for me. We ended up at a bar, Bobbie, Celine,
Becky and I, to have a nightcap and talk about the case. After a few drinks, Bobbie started laying it on thick. I was so distracted by the case that it took me longer than usual to figure out what she was after. Sex. I think Celine figured it out before I did, because she became really agitated and stormed out before I could stop her. Becky took pity on me and assured me that she would get Celine home safely. Bobbie thought that meant I was saying yes to her not-so-subtle invitation, and got really put out with me when I told her no.

  Like a prepubescent teenager in the throes of a hormonal surge, I called and texted Celine several times. I just wanted to know she was safe, and finally, after threatening to come over there and kick her door down, she texted back that she was fine and to leave her alone.

  So, there I was, alone in my bed, staring at the ceiling of my Winnebago, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, when someone pounded on the door.

  “Chief, Chief, are you in there?”

  “Lula?” I jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a tank top.

  I opened the door to a visibly shaken, ashen face Lula, who was so agitated with fear she couldn’t stand still. “What’s happened?” I demanded.

  “Ms. Thomas. She’s gone!”

  “Oh, God. No!” I grabbed a shirt from the floor and punched my feet into my shoes. “Where was the police officer?”

  “He wasn’t there, and no one has seen him,” Lula replied.

  “Did you ask her mother-in-law where she was?” I grabbed my keys off the counter and unlocked the drawer where I kept my pistol. I inserted the magazine and chambered a round, then I tucked the gun in the back of my jeans, grabbed my jacket and dashed out the door. “Did you call the police?” I asked as I ran into the hospital, pulling out my cellphone. If Lula answered any of my questions, I didn’t hear her. Running down the hallway, past the front lobby, cafeteria and the elevators, I rushed into the ICU and over to Cody’s room. He was sitting up, drinking from a cup. As grateful as I was to see him awake and sitting up, I didn’t see Scottie anywhere and was beginning to panic.