Leaving the bathroom, she headed toward the kitchen again, but her phone suddenly rang, causing her to nearly leap out of her skin. She thumbed it on. “Brooks.”
“Find anything,” came Marco’s voice.
“Nothing,” she answered, moving into the kitchen. Officer Tate glanced over at her and went back to her search. “I’d have thought it’d be by the body.”
“That’s where they’ve all been. Shit, could I be wrong?”
Peyton sighed in frustration. “Maybe. I don’t know. But you’re right. Every single card has actually been on the body.”
“Except…” said Marco, his voice faltering.
Peyton’s head lifted. “Except the security guard.” Peyton whirled around and spotted a door in the back corner of the kitchen by the stove.
“He sent that one to Ryder through…”
“…the mail,” She went to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open. “I’ll call you back.”
“Be careful,” he warned.
“I will.” She leaned in, locating the light switch and turned it on. It revealed a long row of stairs going downward. Drawing her gun, she tried to see to the bottom. “Jake?”
He appeared at her side a moment later. “What’s going on?”
“Where were the Clean-up Crew cards always found?”
“On the bodies.”
“Except.”
“Except?” Jake frowned, then his face cleared. “The security guard on Alcatraz. I got that one in the mail.”
“Precisely.” She glanced over her shoulder at Officer Tate. “Please wait here and keep an eye on the front door.”
“Will do,” she said, backing up.
“Stay close to me and don’t do anything unless I tell you to, okay?” she told Jake.
Jake’s expression grew alarmed. “What do you think is down there?”
“A creepy staircase in a dead guy’s house leading down into the dark. It could be anything.”
“Like what?”
“Body parts in freezers, women chained up behind padlocked doors…”
Jake swallowed.
“Vampires.”
“Vampires? Peyton!”
“Zombies…werewolves…” She stepped through the door and they started to go down. “Aliens.”
Jake followed right on her heels.
“Deranged mothers holding butcher knives.”
The stairs ended on a landing and so did the light. Peyton ran her hand along the wall, feeling for the switch, keeping her gun pressed to her thigh. She could sense a large open space directly below them and she could hear Jake’s anxious breathing behind her.
Just as she located the switch, Jake let out a squawk and grabbed her shoulder, bumping into her. Her heart slammed into her ribs and she threw on the light, lifting her gun. A row of fluorescent tubing came on, revealing a single car garage, a work bench and a number of tools stashed in cardboard boxes. A beat-up old Ford Escort sat in the middle of the room, its paint oxidized from the ocean air.
She glanced over her shoulder at Jake. He straightened, adjusting his evidence bag and smoothing down his shirt. Peyton couldn’t help but smile.
“Something get you?”
He ran a hand across his hair and pulled away cobwebs. “I felt something on my face.”
“Ooh, spider webs.”
He shuddered. “No, spider. Biggest freakin’ monster you’ve ever seen.”
“Right.”
“I think he tried to take my ear off.”
“Sure he did. What? No big, scary bugs in the Midwest?”
“Can we get this over with? It’s your fault with all your vampires and mothers with butcher knives talk.”
“And ghosts?” Her eyes lit up as she replaced her gun. “I’ll bet it wasn’t a spider. I’ll bet it was a ghost and…” She gave him a once-over. “Now you’re possessed.”
He pushed past her down the remaining few stairs into the garage. Just as his foot met the garage floor, something streaked past him, racing for the workbench. He threw himself back against the wall, his evidence case sliding off his shoulder.
Peyton burst into laughter.
“All right!” he said, straightening again.
Peyton couldn’t stop laughing and took a seat on the stairs. “Oh, God, Marco’s gonna love this,” she gasped out.
“All right, I said.”
“What’d you think it was?”
He pressed his lips back against his teeth. “I know what it was. A rat as big as Pickles.”
“And what was it going to do?”
He picked up the evidence bag. “Give us rabies.”
Peyton laughed so hard, tears filled her eyes.
Jake moved toward the garage door where daylight showed around the mail-slot. Someone had affixed a cardboard box beneath the slot to catch the mail so it wouldn’t fall on the garage floor. Jake drew a deep breath, then reached inside, pulling out a stack of envelopes and catalogues.
Peyton pushed herself to her feet and walked over to him as he sorted, dropping the letters back into the box after he looked at them.
“I don’t think it’s here,” he said as he neared the bottom of the pile, but just as he lifted a catalogue for karate clothing, something slipped free and floated down to the garage floor.
Peyton and Jake went still, staring at it. The red lettering was unmistakable, glaring up at them from the concrete. Suddenly Peyton’s phone rang, making both of them jump. Jake dropped the rest of the mail as Peyton grabbed his arm.
Pressing a hand over his heart, Jake nodded at her pocket. “Answer it, for God’s sake.”
She fumbled to pull it out, watching him hunker down and begin gathering the loose mail. “Brooks,” she gasped into the line.
“Are you okay?” came Marco’s voice.
“Except for the heart attack you just gave us, yeah.”
“What’d you find?”
She watched as Jake uncovered the card again, her heart sinking. “It’s here, Marco. The card is here in the mailbox.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the garage door. “Which confirms it. The Janitor is someone in our precinct.”
CHAPTER 6
“And I will dwell in the Houz of the Lord forever,” said Jake, turning the shot glass over and placing it down on the coffee table.
Marco closed his eyes, laying his head back on the couch. Peyton sat curled up in the recliner, her arms wrapped around her knees. Pickles stretched on Jake’s lap and rolled over, going back to sleep.
“What timez it?” Jake asked. He was a little dismayed his words slurred when he spoke.
Peyton glanced toward the kitchen. “Nearly 1:00AM.”
Marco opened his eyes and rolled his head along the cushions. “Tell me again what Defino said. Why didn’t they go through the mail when they found his body?”
Jake noticed Marco wasn’t slurring, but his eyes were heavy.
Peyton pressed a hand to her forehead. “She called in a bunch of favors to get us the case and after they removed the body and bagged the evidence directly around him, they shut up the house.”
Marco nodded.
“Who do you…” Jake licked his lips, hoping that would help him form words. “Who do you think it iz?”
“Who what is?” asked Peyton.
“The Janitor.”
“I don’t know. I mentally tried to go over everyone in the precinct, but I just can’t see any of them being a serial killer. It could be anyone.”
“I vote for Adoniz here,” said Jake, then laughed.
Marco glared at him. “I vote for you.”
“Me?” He placed his hand in the middle of his chest. “Come on.”
Marco looked away. “Yeah, that’s nuts.”
“I’ll bet it’z Stan,” said Jake.
Peyton gave him an annoyed shake of her head, but Marco shifted and pinned her with a stare. She glanced at him. “It’s not Stan.”
“How do you know? He’s obsessed with you.”
“How can you say that? I saw him sniff your hair once.”
“I saw that too,” said Jake, then he laughed again. “It wuz creepy.”
“Shut up,” she hissed at him. “You’re drunk.”
“We’re all drunk.”
She ignored him and turned back to Marco. “It’s not Stan. He has a crush on me, but that’s all. He’d never do something like this.” She gave a shudder.
“If he thought it was the only way to win you over?”
“Really, Marco? Become a serial killer? It’s just a crush.”
“The hell it is,” he grumbled.
Jake tilted his head at him. “Be careful,” he said.
Marco visibly checked himself.
Peyton narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
Jake opened his mouth, but his brain was too clouded by Jack Daniels to think quickly.
“He’s drunk,” said Marco.
“We’re all drunk,” repeated Jake.
Peyton studied both of them, but Jake refused to meet her eyes. “Fine,” she said, climbing to her feet. “I’m going to bed.”
She started for the hallway, but the slamming of a car door outside the house brought her back around. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Marco was across the room and reaching for the gun in his jacket, while Peyton hurried to the peg by the front door and drew hers.
Jake gathered Pickles and shifted on the couch, watching the entryway.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs filtered through the locked door. Peyton backed up, putting the couch between her and the door and Marco stepped away from the windows. Jake felt like his heart was going to pound out of his throat.
A moment later a key went into the lock.
“It’z Maria,” said Jake, his voice breaking with tension.
Peyton and Marco lowered their weapons, both of them exhaling in relief. Maria appeared in the doorway and reached in to turn on the light. Behind her was Nathan Cho. The two of them took in the scene, then Cho pulled Maria back beside him, blocking her with his body.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
Peyton shook her head, going to the door and closing it behind them, then she put her gun back in the holster. “I didn’t think you were coming home,” she told Maria.
Maria gave her a critical look. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
She shifted and surveyed the scene, taking in the Jack Daniel’s bottle and the shot glasses. “Are you all drunk?”
Marco moved then to put his gun away.
“Were you going to shoot us?” An edge of panic crept into Maria’s voice.
Cho put a hand on her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
Marco and Peyton exchanged a look. “It’s late and you startled us.”
“The hell,” said Cho. “What the hell did you think was coming through that door? Obviously you weren’t expecting us.”
Peyton looked at Marco again. He shrugged and settled into Peyton’s recliner.
“Sit down, Nate,” she said, pointing to the couch. “We need to talk.”
He did as she asked, and Maria perched on the arm beside him. “Give me a shot,” Maria told Jake. “I need something after that craziness.”
He released Pickles and grabbed a shot glass, filling it and passing it to her. She downed it in one swallow. Cho gave her an appreciative look, then focused on Peyton. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“If I do, it can’t leave this room.”
“Does this have to do with work?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want me to tell Bill?”
Cho and Simons had been partners longer than Peyton and Marco. Jake figured they probably told each other everything. There were few relationships as close as two long-time partners, especially when your very life depended on that other person.
“You can’t say anything to Bill until we clear it with Defino,” said Marco.
“Are you reinstated now?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly?”
“He’s undercover, sort of. That’s why he’s staying here.”
Cho shook his head. “This isn’t making sense.”
“Want some Jack Daniels?” asked Jake.
Cho glared at him. Actually, Marco glared at him too, but that happened all the time.
Peyton hit him in the shoulder. “Why don’t you go to bed?”
“Because people are sitting on my bed.”
She dismissed him. He realized she did that a lot. “Nate, we think the Janitor is someone in the precinct.”
He went still. Jake had always been a little afraid of Cho. There was something quick and deadly about the man, but Jake especially hated it when he went still. Sure, Marco made two of him, physically, but he was mostly bluster. Nate Cho was not a cop anyone should tangle with.
“Come again.”
Peyton drew a deep breath, then launched into their theory, giving Cho all of the circumstantial evidence they had, until she came to the coup de grace – the Clean-up Crew card in Junior Walker’s mailbox.
Cho slumped back against the couch. “I can’t believe that.”
“That’s what I keep saying.”
Maria poured him a shot and handed it to him. He took it without looking and tossed it back.
“How can this be?”
Peyton rolled her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know. Do you have any idea who it might be?”
Cho shook his head, staring at nothing. “I don’t. I can’t even get my head around it.”
“Then do you think we’re wrong?” she asked.
He looked over at Marco. “No, it makes sense, but then again, it just doesn’t. How could it be someone in our precinct? Who would do something like this?”
Jake started to answer, but Peyton kicked him in the calf. He clamped his mouth shut again. Fine, but it’s always the quiet ones, he thought to himself.
“I think we should get some sleep,” said Marco. “None of us is going to be any good tomorrow. We need to come at it with fresh minds.”
Sober wouldn’t hurt either.
“So, you moving in?” Jake asked Cho.
“What?”
“You’re staying tonight, right?”
He glanced at Maria and she nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Good, ‘cause we got a bathtub just going wanting.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Preacher?”
“Bathtub, you know? To sleep in? Abe’z got dibs on the counter.”
Cho gave Peyton a bewildered look. She shook her head as if to say Jake ought to be ignored.
“Idiot,” hissed Marco.
“Cop,” Jake hissed back, sticking out his tongue. Good lord, was he ever drunk.
* * *
Peyton came around the corner of the kitchen and found Jake at the stove making pancakes. Jake always made pancakes when they went on a bender. She grabbed the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, then held the aspirin over his shoulder.
He took it without speaking and popped it open, swallowing two and placing it back on the counter, then he went back to flipping. Peyton noticed he had a mountain of pancakes already prepared. She guessed that made sense because she seemed to be running a bed and breakfast now.
Marco appeared at the counter, climbing onto the stool, and Pickles came into the kitchen giving Peyton a sad look, then he looked at his food bowl. Peyton poured Marco a cup of coffee and passed it to him with the bottle of aspirin. He was showered and shaved, but his eyes were a bit blood-shot. Still he made a pleasant sight in the morning with his Patrician good looks. She could get used to having him here.
Forcing that thought away, she went to the cabinet and pulled out Pickles’ food, filling his bowl.
“Any reason he has to come into the bathroom with me?” asked Marco, taking a sip.
“He’s alone in the hou
se most of the day,” she answered.
“Must be nice,” grumbled Jake.
“He just wants company,” Peyton finished.
Jake glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t have free roaming chicken eggs or anything, Adonis, but there’s no animal flesh in these.” He motioned for Peyton to grab the dish of pancakes.
“It’s fine,” Marco said, opening the aspirin and popping three in his mouth.
Peyton gathered everything they needed for the pancakes and placed it on the counter, then took a seat by Marco. She passed out the plates and offered him a fork. He gave her a tired smile as he took it.
Jake turned off the stove, then poured himself more coffee, coming to take a seat on her other side. As they fixed their plates, he sipped his coffee and braced his head on his hand. “I’m a little unclear about last night. Did I accuse Stan Neumann of being a serial killer?”
Peyton took a bite of pancake and chewed, nodding her head. Yep, syrup was the thing to fix a hangover.
“Repeatedly,” said Marco, pouring syrup.
“You know I don’t think that, right?”
Marco used the side of his fork to cut the pancake. “I think everyone needs to be looked at, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Peyton gave him a frown. “Stan, Marco?”
Marco met her look. “If the serial killer is killing to impress you, Stan rides right to the top of my list. I wish you’d break your date with him.”
Jake sputtered on his coffee and began coughing.
Peyton patted his back. “Are you okay?”
He blinked his watering eyes. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Tried to swallow and breathe. You have a date with Stan?” He looked so bewildered.
“It’s just dinner.”
“When?”
“The Friday before my birthday.”
Jake leaned forward so he could see Marco. Marco returned the look.
Peyton sat back. Okay, this was odd. “What’s going on?”
“Do you have to go on this date right now? With everything that’s happening?” asked Marco.
“How do I say no? I told him I’d go with him. He’d be crushed.”
“So you admit he’s obsessed with you?”
Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6) Page 8