“I think it could work. And frankly, I don’t see us having a lot of alternatives. Hash it out after the autopsy?”
“Yeah. Sure.” A conversation Trent was not looking forward to.
Once they were fully covered in seafoam green garb, Trent and Subera ventured back into the autopsy theater.
The cooler door stood open, a waft of colder and even fouler air drifting into the room. Harlan Runk emerged with a gurney and positioned it, and the body it bore, in front of the long, stainless steel sink. Bright lights reflected off his round, cherry-red cheeks and nose, making him look like a middle-aged Santa Claus during his off months. “Isn’t Dan Cassidy supposed to be here? Or is it just going to be you Federal folks today?”
Trent hadn’t had a chance to confront the detective, a conversation he was looking forward to much more than the one with Subera.
Trent checked his watch. “We really can’t afford to wait.”
Next to him, Subera nodded. “We’ll start without Cassidy.”
“Will do.” With the flourish of a well-rehearsed tradition, Doc punched the Play button on the boom box in the corner and unveiled Farrentina Hamilton’s body. Soft strains of Duke Ellington spiraled through the room, the energetic jazz a strange backdrop to the gruesome scene spread before them.
Like Dryden’s other victims, a deep knife slit ran from her breastbone to her pubic bone. But instead of focusing on the horror of the wound or the memories of Dryden’s other victims, Trent pulled out his notebook and started jotting down dry facts. Details. Evidence.
Later the sight of Farrentina’s body would haunt him, torment him, just like all the others. The cruelty she’d endured. The degradation and pain and terror she’d felt in her last moments. The evil that had stolen her life. But now, the only way to stop Dryden was to pay attention.
As unkempt and eccentric as Harlan appeared at first, the man seemed to be conscientious when it came to his job. He prodded and measured and weighed and photographed, dictating into his voice recorder as he worked. He started with the external exam, documenting each scrape, bruise, and cut. Ligature marks circled her wrists and neck. Fish hooks punctured various parts of her body, the more sensitive, the better, it seemed. Her hands, knees and the bottoms of her feet were scuffed and gashed, debris clinging to the wounds. Her nails were chipped and something that appeared to be soil was lodged underneath.
Harlan would describe it all in his report. But a picture of what had happened was already forming in Trent’s mind.
Like with the others, Dryden had kidnapped her, tied her hands, stripped her naked, and maybe started the torture. Fish hooks were a new twist, but eventually, as with the others, he’d let her loose in a remote forest. Her bare feet would have grown sore as she ran over the forest floor. Branches and brambles would have ripped at her hair and torn at her unprotected skin. Dryden would have given her a head start, only a minute or two, and then he would have set out after her, hunting her, terrorizing her, until he finally either caught up with her or shot her to slow her down.
Harlan found no bullet wounds, so either he had outpaced her, outsmarted her, or she returned to him, unwilling to believe he would do something so horrible. However it had played out, Dryden enjoyed the hunt because it allowed him to feel his victim’s fear and pain. And catching her, however he managed it, proved his superiority.
It wasn’t a unique signature. Most killers of his type found some way to cause their victims fear and pain. There had even been an infamous killer in Alaska who had kidnapped prostitutes and flown them into the wilderness to hunt them. Trent had suspected that was where Dryden had gotten the idea.
The bastard was cruel, but he didn’t have a lot of imagination.
After the quarry was under control, Dryden’s signature got more personal. This was the portion Trent believed that gave the psychopath the most satisfaction.
Ed Dryden had grown up in a deer hunting family, common in this part of Wisconsin. What was less common was the severe abuse and humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of his drunken wreck of a father. But from the time Ed Dryden was small, he’d been charged with removing the deer’s organs and preparing the venison. It was something he was good at, the only time he truly felt capable and confident.
So that’s what he did to the women. He would hunt them down, sink the knife, and slice from sternum to pubic bone. As the last of life drained from his victims, he would clean out their organs, every one, and hang them from a tree.
In Farrentina’s case, he’d transported her body to Rees’s porch and displayed her for the police to find. An attempt to humiliate, dominate, and control. Not just Farrentina, but Risa, too.
But the question wasn’t only about what the monster had done and why. The most urgent question in this case was where.
Dryden needed a secluded place to stage his hunt. Farrentina owned a vast estate, but if he had hunted her down on her own property, the deputies outside her house surely would have heard her screams. And since he and Rees had seen Farrentina mere hours before she died, Dryden’s secluded spot couldn’t be too far from either Farrentina’s house or Risa’s.
And Trent had a feeling that if they found that secluded location, they’d find Dryden.
Trent moved to the bottom of the gurney and examined the debris sticking to the blood on her feet, hands, and knees. To the naked eye it looked like it could have come from any forest in southern Wisconsin. But detailed analysis just might narrow down the area. That, along with what they knew about the time frame in which the murder occurred, could give them a location.
“Can we get a rush on the analysis of this debris?” Trent asked Subera.
“I’ll push for it.”
Doc’s assistant began collecting the debris while Doc continued his prodding. Once he’d put every last bit in an evidence bag, he left for the lab.
Dan Cassidy strode into the room in the assistant’s wake, still pulling his protective clothing on over a wrinkled white shirt. “Sorry to leave you here alone with the famous-but-incompetent, Doc.”
Trent focused on the detective, taking in the lines of tension ringing his mouth, the shadows creasing the skin under his eyes. “We need to talk, Cassidy.”
Cassidy’s gaze shot to meet Trent’s. An unmistakable shift of wariness crossed his sharp features. “What’s up?”
“You tell me.” Trent skewered Cassidy with a glare. “Why didn’t you tell Special Agent Subera or me that Farrentina Hamilton was bribing prison guards on Dryden’s behalf?”
“What’s wrong? You feebs couldn’t figure it out on your own?”
“You could have saved us time. We’re supposed to work together.”
“Work together, my ass.” He scoffed. “You exaggerated a sighting you knew was bogus so you could take over.”
Trent eyed Cassidy. He’d known from the beginning the detective wasn’t happy to lose control of the manhunt. Could the detective’s secretiveness merely be resentment of the FBI? He had to admit it was possible. He’d seen it before. “Care to explain how you stumbled upon the bribery in the first place, Detective?”
“Ever hear of police work? You should try it sometime.”
“Cut the crap, Cassidy,” Subera said. “We have a serial killer out there.”
“One of the other guards tipped me off a few weeks ago. Complained that Dryden was getting preferential treatment. Apparently he reported it to the warden, but he didn’t get results. He thought Hanson might be sharing in some of the green flying around. I was investigating before Dryden escaped.”
Trent nodded. Cassidy’s explanation sounded plausible. And it would be easy to check.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Burnell. You’re trying to keep your little professor from putting herself on a hook. Well, don’t bother looking at me. I’ve done my job. I’ve turned the lives of those three guards upside down and haven’t found a damn thing beyond them trading TV time for a little cash.”
“You’d damn well bet
ter get me copies of those reports, Detective,” Subera said.
“Turned ’em over to one of your men on my way here.”
The guards weren’t the only ones in position to help Dryden escape. There was still Warden Hanson.
As if reading his thoughts, Cassidy grinned. “If you’re betting on the warden giving you some answers, don’t. I’ve been through his financial records. His wife’s aunt died recently and gave him an infusion of cash. Other than that, the man lives within his means. Besides, we’ve had officers watching him and his wife since you alerted us last night. So far he’s gone to work, and she shopped for handbags. Not exactly suspicious activities.”
“A few hours of working and shopping doesn’t mean anything.” Trent filled Cassidy in on Warden Hanson’s thwarted Supermax ambition.
“Who hasn’t been informing who?”
Trent narrowed his eyes on the detective. “You obviously dislike Risa Madsen. And her sister. Why?”
“What does it matter? I’ve done my job.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“What the hell don’t I have against them, that’s what you should be asking.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Do you want to know what I think about women like them? Do you really want to know?”
Trent said nothing, just waited for him to continue.
“Women who find toying with that kind of danger fun? Whether they are marrying him or studying him, it’s all the same. Either way, if he got the chance, he’d string ’em up and kill them in a minute.”
“It’s not the same.”
“How? None of them want to see what a monster he really is. They think he’s fascinating, exciting, even a victim of big bad law enforcement. They blame us and glorify him. It makes me sick.”
Though what Cassidy was saying rubbed Trent the wrong way, he could understand the detective’s frustration. He’d felt it himself more than once. Trent could probably cross Cassidy off the Dryden-helper list.
“Fellas, before you do much more talking, I think you’ll want to take a look at this.”
Trent, Cassidy, and Subera leaned over the autopsy table. Deep in the chest cavity, something glinted dully in the bright lights.
After snapping a series of photos, Doc reached into the cavity with a forceps and grasped the object. A silver chain, muted by blood, unfurled as he pulled. A silver locket emerged on the end of the chain. Doc held up the find.
Subera leaned forward, trying to get a better look. “What the hell is that doing inside her?”
Trent’s stomach hardened like a cold, tight fist. He thought of the photo of Rees and Nikki with the teddy bears. In that photo, Nikki had worn a locket. Risa had said she’d given it to her little sister as a gift. “Open it.”
Doc grasped the locket gingerly with latex-gloved fingers and pressed the release. The tiny door flipped open.
Folded inside was a photo of Rees as a girl posing in front of a beaten-up trailer. Trent had seen the picture before, and Risa had explained that it was taken the day she’d moved into her dad’s house. She’d given the locket to Nikki, and told her little sister she would always be with her.
A promise that didn’t come true.
But as sad as that memory was, the condition of the photo was more upsetting. It was slit down the middle, just as the photo of Nikki they’d found in Dryden’s cell had been.
Trent stepped away from the body, pulse hammering in his ears, drowning out the beat of Harlan’s jazz. He’d finish with Cassidy later. He’d go over the autopsy protocols later. Now he had to get to Rees.
This locket was a threat… and a promise. And Dryden wasn’t one to patiently wait to deliver on either.
Trent only prayed he wasn’t too late.
Nikki
“I told you he would keep her close.”
Nikki peered out the dirty windshield at the county sheriff’s car parked in front of the Sauk Trail Inn. Eddie had insisted she call almost every hotel and motel in Lake Loyal and the surrounding area to find out where Trent Burnell was staying. She hadn’t even known her sister’s ex was in Wisconsin, but Eddie was sure. He was also sure Risa would be staying with Trent, even though Nikki told him they weren’t together anymore. And to top it off, Eddie had predicted a police car would be waiting at the hotel.
Eddie seemed to know everything. But more and more, Nikki wondered if she really knew him.
Nikki looked down at her hands, ashamed she would feel that way about her husband. The man she loved. The man who loved her.
She was so mixed up.
The sound of Eddie opening his door made her jump.
“The cop, Eddie. He’ll see you.”
“The cop’s inside. With Risa.”
“You shouldn’t go in there. He’ll—”
“I’m not worried about the cop.”
“But why risk it?”
“I have to see your sister.”
Nikki couldn’t help but remember what she’d overheard at Farrentina’s house. She’d been thinking of Trent’s comment ever since. That Eddie really loved Risa. That Nikki was a stand-in. That Risa was the special one. Again. “Why do you need to see her? Why can’t you just stay here with me?”
“I have to tell her she was wrong.”
“About the article?”
A muscle twitched along Eddie’s jaw. “About you.”
“Did Risa say something about me? In your meetings?”
“She couldn’t stop talking about you.”
“What did she say?”
“I think you know.”
Tears pressed to break free. Nikki knew too well. Risa would say Nikki wasn’t trying hard enough. That she wasn’t living up to her potential. That she needed to be different… quit her job, go back to school, be more like Risa herself. Never mind that Nikki was never smart enough to do any of those things. “What are you going to say?”
“That I love you, for starters.”
Nikki felt a flush warm her body. Now she really was going to cry. “Oh, Eddie…”
“It’s true, babe. I chose you. I can have any woman I want, and I chose you.”
“You’re going to tell her that?”
“Yes. And I’m going to tell her exactly why.”
“But the cop, the guy at the desk…”
“They won’t be a problem. Because you’re going to help me.”
Nikki wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “I can’t. I—“
“I thought I could count on you, Nikki.”
“You can.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
“You can, Eddie. I promise. It’s just…” The thought of what Eddie might do flitted through her mind. No. She couldn’t think that way. Eddie said he just wanted to talk to Risa. And he was being sweet now. Normal. The Eddie she knew.
“This is starting to make me angry, Nikki. I’m doing this for you, and you can’t even be there for me?”
“I’ll do anything you want. I just… I don’t want to see Risa.”
“You don’t have to. I want to take care of Risa alone. So you’ll help.”
It wasn’t a question. And even though Nikki didn’t understand what help he would need, she was too afraid to ask. “Okay.”
“Just do what I tell you. Even you won’t be able to fuck things up.” Eddie drove the car around the motel and stopped in front of a construction fence. He got out and started walking back to the entrance.
Nikki scampered to keep up. Just before they entered the lobby, he stopped.
“Wait.” He unbuttoned her blouse, leaving it gaping almost to her waist.
Nikki wanted to gather the fabric together, cover herself. But she didn’t want to make Eddie mad.
“Now go in and talk to the guy at the desk. Distract him. Get him to turn his back to the door so he doesn’t see me sneak past.”
Nikki focused on the paunchy older man behind the counter. “What do I say?”
“Flirt. Sel
l it. And if he wants to fuck you, let him.”
“What?” Nikki turned back to Eddie, but he was already walking away.
She wanted to think he didn’t mean that, that he couldn’t mean that, but she knew better. The thought seemed to excite him, just as it had on that dead-end road. And when he stopped just out of sight of the door and gave her a pointed stare, she knew she would go through with it. She didn’t have the strength to refuse.
Nikki opened the glass door and walked to the counter.
The man glanced up from his computer. His gaze rested for a second on her swollen lip, then slipped down to the open blouse. “Uh, hello.”
Nikki scrambled for something to say. “I need a room.”
“We don’t rent ‘em by the hour here, honey.”
For a second, Nikki was taken aback. “You think I’m a hooker?”
“You’re not?” The man’s eyes didn’t lift from her cleavage.
Nikki paused. She had to think.
Think.
“Listen, I really need a room. I’m tired. But I’m also lonely.”
The man looked her up and down. “Thought you said you weren’t a hooker.”
“I’m not.”
“You ain’t some kind of cop, are you?”
“Cop?” Nikki shook her head. She didn’t know when Eddie was going to make his appearance, but this was not going well. Not at all. “I’m not a cop.”
“Prove it.”
Nikki wanted to turn and run, get out of here, get lost. Instead, she spread her blouse open, exposing herself to him. As he stared, she could feel a flush of shame heat her skin.
“Is there a back office or something where we could go?” Nikki asked. “I saw a cop car out there, and…”
“You are a hooker, aren’t you?”
“I’m not. I just don’t want the whole town seeing, okay?” She forced what she hoped was a sexy smile. With the throbbing lip, it was hard to tell. “Just you.”
“What do you take me for, lady?”
Nikki had no idea how to answer.
“I’m a good, God-fearing man, I’ll have you know. I ain’t interested in some kind of piece of shit whore.”
Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1) Page 12