Mutilated Dreams

by Hadena James

  “Only if they are looking for the bodies.”

  “We cannot afford for my brother to fuck this up. This is the largest shipment so far and it’s supposed to be great stuff.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Talk to my father, and see if we can remove Grigori from town for a little while. Send him surfing or some such nonsense very far from here.”

  “Why don’t you talk to him?” Dmitri asked.

  “Because I just got him to agree to pay someone off instead of killing them. I’m out of goodwill for the day.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Dmitri stood up, pausing as if he were going to say something, but then left without another word.

  Nikita sighed and slumped against his desk, rubbing his temples. His brother was going to give him an ulcer or worse. There were times when Nikita wished he were an only child, now was one of them. How could he have one sibling that was a complete fuck-up and one sibling that had turned out to be picture perfect and angelic? He wasn’t sure. He was somewhere between the two. His sister knew about the business, but she had nothing to do with it. Instead, she had gone to dance school and worked as a dance teacher. Maybe Nikita should have done that. His father was a huge fan of symphonies and the ballet. He might have been able to switch from bookkeeper to dancer or violinist if he had wanted to when he was younger.

  His cell phone rang. It was his father’s number. He considered not answering it; certain it was going to be about his suggestion to move Grigori away from the business for a while.

  “Hello?” Nikita answered.

  “Did you authorize this?” His father shouted.

  “Um, what? I admit to authorizing checks to be paid to a pregnant woman in the event that my brother did get her pregnant. I admit that I asked Dmitri to see about taking Grigori out of town for a while since the SCTU is here. That’s all I’ve done today except paperwork on the shipment of Matryoshka dolls that came in yesterday.”

  “Well, I just got a very interesting phone call. Someone is using my money to put a hit out on the SCTU.” The words made Nikita stiffen. There was no reason to go at the SCTU directly. It would be like attacking a group of sharks with only blood soaked gloves.

  “I would never authorize such a thing. The SCTU and VCU are not our concern, despite my brother’s proclivities. Going after them is a bad idea.”

  “Well, someone did it. I just got to looking and there was ten million dollars moved last week. Ironically, that is the exact same amount being offered for a contract on US Marshal Dr. Lucas McMichaels. It’s hard to believe that you didn’t authorize it.”

  “I didn’t, I swear.” Nikita was at a loss. “Which account?”

  “My personal account,” his father’s voice held an edge to it.

  “I do not have privileges on that account. Those are held by you and…” Nikita stopped. His cousin had access, the one tapped to take over the family business upon his father’s death. However, why his cousin, Boris, would take out a hit on an SCTU member was beyond him, especially for such a large amount. Contract killers worked for less all the time.

  “So far, no one has taken it. However, I’ve been told that Apex, Nightstalker, and Monster all looked at it and passed.”

  “If Apex passed, the job is undoable,” Nikita said without thinking.

  “Exactly,” his father hissed. “I want all of you at the house tonight, no exceptions. Do I make myself clear?” His father’s tone was dangerous.

  “I will be there. I will have Dmitri tell the others.” He hung up when his father disconnected.

  He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was possible that Boris and Grigori had hatched this scheme together. The reason for it was totally beyond his comprehension though. He could not think of a single reason for them to go after the VCU. Sure, they had sustained losses in Detroit, but they weren’t that bad. The people were replaceable as were the drugs. As for the target, that was mind-boggling. If you wanted to cripple the SCTU, you took out their leader, not their psychiatrist.

  His head was starting to pound. He wasn’t sure how much worse this day could get. He was sure he would find out tonight.

  Twenty-five

  The second apartment was setup much different from the first. There was a large sofa and love seat that matched. Both appeared newer and comfortable. A flat screen TV was mounted to the wall with an entertainment center below it. The power was on the satellite box and Blu-ray player. A coffee table held magazines, one with a coffee cup ring on the face of a smiling blonde girl. I didn’t know who the blonde girl was or why she was on the cover of a magazine. I guessed it had something to do with fashion.

  There was a small dining room table made of wood with matching chairs near the kitchen. A bookcase was against the wall beside the fridge, which seemed like a weird place to put a bookcase. The shelves were full of books on all sorts of topics and included a mix of fiction and nonfiction.

  A big dresser with matching wardrobe looked like it was straight out the Victorian era. It seemed out of place. The walls had framed photos on them and one giant collage on the wall, the stuff in it making a lighthouse and ocean. What was missing was the bed. There wasn’t even a murphy bed in the place. I pulled the cushions from the couch and sofa. Neither hid a bed. I stood and stared at the one room apartment.

  “I found a hamper!” Caleb was going through the bathroom.

  “Did you find a bed?” I asked.

  “No, but I found tampons, dirty clothes, towels, toilet paper, a toothbrush, floss, toothpaste, hair care products, styling products, and makeup,” he answered.

  “Well, that is just weird as hell.” I looked over the wall. There was no way I was going to leave one apartment in my pajamas and go to another to sleep.

  “Nice view.” Hunter had opened the French doors onto the balcony. “The other apartment doesn’t have a balcony, but this one does and there’s some furniture on it.”

  “What’s up?” Gabriel asked me.

  “I am looking for a door.” I moved closer to the wall. “Some sort of hidden door. There is no bed in here, so either she sleeps on the couch or she goes into the next apartment to sleep. I am not walking from one apartment to the other via the common hallway in my jammies. There is no connecting balcony and I would not use that either, so how does she get to her bedroom?”

  “I thought secret doors only existed in movies,” Caleb said.

  “I have one at my house,” I told him. It had been installed after I had moved in. I had closed off one room that shared an adjoining wall to my bedroom, removed the hallway entrance, and installed a hidden door in my bedroom. People who knew it existed joked that it was probably my trophy room, because I didn’t allow anyone in it. It wasn’t, at least not in the sense they meant it. I had no serial killer trophies. It did contain every award I had ever won, as well as a computer that had no internet access. The hard drive was full of short stories, detailing the serial killers Malachi had encountered over the years. He gave me the case files and I made a narrative out of them. Sometimes, it was easy. Sometimes it was hard, because I knew that Malachi didn’t actually have a personality. However, I didn’t need anyone else to know about it. They would want to read them and I thought that was a terrible idea. I moved my focus to the floor. My house had carpet, but this apartment was hardwood. I knew from experience that a secret door would leave a scuffmark on the floor.

  My gaze scoured the floor, looking for something that was out of place. Considering the glow on the floor, it was obvious that it was waxed often. This worked against me. The wax would protect the wood. So I looked more intently at the wax. It should be roughly the same thickness all the way near the wall, unless it was removed by a swinging door.

  And there it was. The entertainment center had a streak in front of it, but only on one corner. I looked at the wall more closely. It looked like it was all one piece because it was paneled. I pushed and the door latch popped. I pulled it open and entered the ap
artment where Valerie McGregor had been found. On the other side of the wall, the fridge moved. It was pretty neat really. She had installed very small rollers under the fridge to let it roll, but they weren’t so tall as to make it seem like there was a space under the appliance.

  “Ta-da!” I said as I showed off her secret.

  “Now, I’ve seen everything,” Caleb said.

  “You haven’t seen inside Aislinn’s lair,” Gabriel corrected.

  “That’s true,” Caleb said. “What’s she got in there?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen inside it either.” Gabriel shrugged. “So, now that we know she has access to her bedroom from this room, does that help us?”

  “Probably not,” I told him. “But you have to admit, it is very cool.”

  “Um, not as cool as this,” Hunter’s voice came from behind us. We turned from the door and looked at him. He was standing in front of the Victorian wardrobe. There was a keyhole and when he had turned the key, a little drawer had popped open.

  “Why?” Gabriel asked.

  “It is very steampunk,” I admitted and walked over to look in the little drawer. There was a lock inside. A combination lock of sorts, but not with letters or numbers, with shapes. Five shapes to be exact and five reels. Someone would have to be able to guess all five shapes in order or force the door. Guessing the shapes would take forever. “Thoughts?” I asked Gabriel.

  “How much damage are you going to do if you force it?” He asked.

  “Maybe a little, maybe a ton,” I answered, looking at the door. The hinges were flat, butterfly style hinges sunk into the wood and partially obscured. There was no way to force them off without removing the wood around them. It would be easier to force the actual lock, maybe. If the lock were actually in the same place as the keyhole, it would be easy enough. If it were near the combination lock box, it would be harder. My guess was that it was near the secret combination box. It was a mix of old and new components with excellent craftsmanship. I was guessing that despite the appearance of it being old, it was really somewhat new and it had been custom designed. I liked shit like this. I would have to ask where she had it made and get me one too. I didn’t know what I would put in a wardrobe, but I was sure I could find something.

  “I’m going to regret this,” Gabriel said. “Force it open.” I nodded and dug out my gun. I didn’t shoot the wardrobe or the locks. That didn’t work. Instead, I hit the combination lock and the box it was in repeatedly with the butt of my gun until it fell out and clattered against the floor. With the mechanism now exposed, I stuck the tip of one of my knives inside and began turning the tumblers until they were all open. The door opened.

  Locked doors, especially complicated locked doors, meant that whatever was behind the door was a huge secret. I expected something like a mummified body, a diary, or the Holy Grail to be inside. I did not expect to see tanning supplies. I also didn’t expect to find a leather quilt draped through the center of a cushion coated hanger. It was a light brown with colored designs on it. My brain took a minute to catch up with my eyes. I was staring at tattoos and tanned human skin.

  “Holy shit,” Hunter said and took a step back. I picked up the hanger. The quilt was heavy. I brought it into the light for my cohorts to see. Caleb blinked a few times at it. Gabriel looked slightly shocked.

  “If Valerie is our mutilator, then who the hell cut her up?” Gabriel asked.

  “Valerie,” Caleb answered. “Psychotic break as the result of killing someone.”

  “So, why did she kill him?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, because she isn’t a psychopath or sociopath and she had never lost control before.” Caleb was now inspecting each square. “Hey, this is a gang tat from LA.”

  “Any thoughts?” Gabriel asked me.

  “At least she has a hobby.”

  “Seriously?” Gabriel frowned at me.

  “Hobbies are important. I get it. She was a victim who took back control by doing to others what had been done to her. I agree that she had a psychotic break with reality and probably did cut herself up in a dissociative state. However, we have got to figure out who he is to figure out why she killed him, because if we are right about the psychotic break, there is a good chance she will not even remember doing it. She is not a serial killer, but she is just as dangerous as one. The paperwork is going to be a nightmare and she needs to be locked inside an asylum. She is not Fortress worthy.” I shrugged. “This one is from a Satanist who belongs to the Church of the Rising Star.” I pointed to one of the tattoos. “No idea how she got it or why it wasn’t reported, but it is worn by members of their clergy.”

  “Any chance it’s a coincidence and just looks like one of their tattoos?” Gabriel asked.

  “Nope,” I answered.

  “I hate this.” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

  “Yep, makes you wonder what they were doing that they did not report being sliced up.” At one time, the Church of the Rising Star had been mainstream Satanism. In recent years, it had gone downhill because a madman was currently running it. A serial killer in Minnesota had killed one of their members, theoretically. She had been found with other victims of his, but I still had some doubts that the same person killed her. Now, finding one of their marks stitched into a serial mutilator’s quilt raised even more questions. Someone was going to have to look into them a lot more closely. I hoped it was not us.

  Twenty-six

  “Wait, our victim is really our assailant?” Xavier asked.

  “Yes,” I told him. Gabriel was driving us back to the Marshals building. Caleb was hanging out waiting for crime scene techs. Hunter was in the backseat, which was why I didn’t have my phone on speaker.

  “Well, there are some other differences with this victim. He’s older than any of the others, a lot older, I’d say mid-forties. Also, he’s had extensive dental work and it wasn’t cheap. Three teeth are implants, the jaw has been broken and reconstructed surgically, and some of his other teeth have veneers on them.” I was getting ready to shell out about fifty grand on my teeth, so I understood exactly how expensive dental work was. Part of the expense was reshaping my lower jaw as well. It would be surgically broken and screwed back together so that denture implants could be put into my mouth. This was especially nice since I had just broken a denture.

  “Okay,” I answered. “Work on the identification process. Maybe that will help us figure out the mystery,” I told him.

  “Fiona’s on it.” Xavier hung up. I sighed. She had killed him for a reason, and we needed that reason. It wasn’t just a matter of tying up loose ends, there was more at stake than that. Her ability to stand trial and her ability to be prosecuted under the serial killer and mass murderer laws was involved. I didn’t want to send a non-serial killer to the Fortress. They wouldn’t last very long.

  We drove the rest of the way in silence. Upon arriving at the US Marshals building, I didn’t wait for Gabriel or Christian Hunter. I got out and walked to the conference room where I knew Fiona and Xavier were working. I slumped into my seat. Part of me hoped the guy had been identified, all the loose ends had been connected, and we could head home to work on stuff that was more important. My first goal was to track down Apex. If I could find the contract killer, maybe, just maybe, I could find some more information regarding whoever had hired him. It wasn’t a given that the man had more information, but the top contract killer in the country, possibly the world, seemed like a great jumping off point. I needed Lucas back. I could not deal with Christian Hunter replacing him, because I could not deal with Christian Hunter.

  “You look like you ate something poisonous…” Xavier stopped mid-sentence as the door opened. Gabriel and Christian Hunter walked into the room. “Huh, you left with one color and came back with another.” Fiona stifled a giggle, but I didn’t stop myself from smiling at the joke.

  “Same basic shade though.” I smiled wider.

  “Done?” Gabriel asked.

  “Nope,”
I answered. It was Xavier’s turn to giggle. Most men didn’t giggle, but Xavier wasn’t most men. Technically, he had brain damage from being shot in the head. It seemed to manifest itself with a strange sense of humor and a high-pitched madman’s giggle that always made me smile. It was my understanding that before the bullet wound, he’d been meticulous with no sense of humor. Now, it always appeared that he had slept in his clothes and his sense of humor was as warped as mine was. Lucas was his only remaining friend from before the shooting. As much as I needed Lucas, Xavier needed him more. I didn’t know how long Xavier could go without him.

  “Both Christian Hunter and Caleb Green will be on temporary assignment with us. Caleb hasn’t got a home, so to speak, and we are a man short for now. We’ve been offered both and accepted both,” Gabriel informed us. I didn’t immediately lodge a protest. That could wait until Gabriel and I were alone. If nothing else, I could Taser Gabriel at that point without witnesses. “Where are we with the dead man?”

  “Still trying to identify him.” Fiona sighed heavily. “You’d think someone would have reported him missing by now. Since they haven’t, I’ve been running facial recognition software borrowed from an alphabet agency to see if I can find him on social media.”

  “Sounds illegal,” I said.

  “Technically, it’s a grey area since we are the SCTU.” The US Marshals Serial Crimes Tracking Unit was governed by a different set of laws than most. We were more akin to black budget operatives than actual law enforcement. For this reason, I could kick down a door that Malachi couldn’t. It was the same reason I thought the VCU should go away and just have another SCT unit created. It was silly that Malachi and I could not kick down the same doors for the same reasons.

  Christian Hunter took the seat next to me. I resisted the urge to get up and change seats, but it was hard. A cell phone rang. To my surprise, it was mine, and I didn’t recognize the number. I considered sending it to voicemail, but that meant sitting in silence next to Christian Hunter.