by Rick Murcer
Manny shrugged in surrender. “All right. Fire away. But this better be good.”
“I’ll keep it simple. This is a smartphone with a touchscreen. If you touch the screen here, you can get your e-mail. This one lets you download and play videos or music. This one will let you buy certain applications, like GPS or games. Touch it here, and you can surf the web. This has 4G, which means you can search the Internet from almost anywhere. You can check Facebook, Twitter, and whatever, all of the social websites you’re a member of.”
“Yeah. My heart beats just to check those out.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. This is good stuff.”
“And that helps me how?”
“What if you found something at a scene that you didn’t recognize, and you thought it was important? Just snap a picture, upload it to your e-mail, like this, and send it to Alex or whomever. A few minutes later, you’ll have his input. You can even get ballistic and DNA reports from the lab.”
“Great. What about dinner?”
“What?”
“You said it would order food.”
“Men. It’s all about food, sports, and women, isn’t it?”
“What else is there?”
“You ain’t right.” Sophie pointed to the touchscreen. “Put in the web address of your favorite food joint here, hit the menu, and order away.”
“Okay. I might use that. Are we done here? We have that meeting with Alex and—” Mike’s statement about Stella came storming back. They’d been so busy with the new phone, he hadn’t mentioned anything to her.
Sophie cocked her head. “And what?”
“We have to talk about my interview with Mike. He said something that seemed absolutely nuts, at first. But now I’m not so sure.”
“Did he shoot the guy?”
“I don’t think so. I believed him when he said he didn’t.”
“What else did he say?”
Manny opened his mouth to speak when Alex strolled through the door and stopped. He stared at the plastic, yellow tape guarding Gavin’s office, shook his head, and moved to where Manny and Sophie stood.
“You two ready? We’ve got some crazy stuff going on here, and we need to go over all of it. This is getting weirder by the minute, and honestly, it’s on the bizarre side.”
“How can it get any stranger?” asked Manny.
“Sparky will be here to confirm the other crime-scene findings, but for starters, the small pieces of paper found in the nostril of both of last night’s victims. Each had a small letter printed on them. The first victim’s note had an ‘S’; the second one had a ‘U.’”
“Up their noses? Eww,” squirmed Sophie.
Manny scratched his head. “Great. A freaking message from a serial killer. Not good.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” said Alex.
Sophie spoke. “You didn’t mention anything like that from Morse, the first vic, right?”
Alex looked at Sophie and then back to Manny. “The body was so swollen, we didn’t notice it. I called the ME and she confirmed, after digging for nose gold, that there was indeed a note. It had the letter ‘J’ printed in the middle. She’s having it sent over by courier. Dollars to donuts says it’s the same handwriting.”
“J-U-S? What the hell does that mean?” swore Manny. He felt his blood pressure rise as the shooter’s intent became clear. “This could mean that this unsub is a mission-oriented killer. If I’m right, and he’s spelling something here, the murders won’t stop until the message is complete.” He glanced at Alex. “We’re going to have a lot more bodies if we don’t nail this guy.”
“I think you’re right,” said Alex.
“It fits the profile,” said Manny.
“There’s something else. These murders seem to be just an hour or so apart. I know a little about escalation, and this is one busy killer.”
Manny frowned. “But what set him off? Starting this fast doesn’t fit.”
“Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they worked on it somewhere else. Not that unusual,” said Sophie.
“True. We’ll have Buzzy research for similar MOs around the state in the last year.”
Sarah Sparks rushed through Manny’s door. “Boss, you gotta see this report.”
“Slow down, Sparky. What report?”
“I know a guy in ballistics. We dated for a while, until his wife found out, but anyway, I was waiting for my DNA reports to process, so I asked him to rush whatever he had on these shootings.” She grinned, still catching her breath. “I had to promise him a couple things, but he came through.”
“What things?”
“You don’t want to know. Anyway, you know how the department requires every service pistol to have a ballistics profile? Well, Lansing also requires that if an officer owns a second gun, it has to be profiled too. In case the backup weapon is fired, yada, yada, yada. Look at this.”
Alex’s eyes scanned to where she was pointing. “I’ll be damned. Didn’t I hear you say that Mike didn’t shoot that sick troll in his apartment complex last night?”
“Yeah. He didn’t. Why?” answered Manny.
“You need to rethink that. He was killed with Mike’s backup weapon.”
Chapter-34
“Hey, Mom.”
Stella turned to see Mike standing by the elevator, turning his hat in his hands like he did when he was a little boy and knew trouble was on the horizon. There were still faint lines around his nose and eyes that reminded her of that ten-year-old.
Gavin had been a busy man back in those days, and Mike and she were on their own a great deal more than the norm. But the family of an ambitious cop knew what was required. The two of them had done their best to support Gavin and had grown close because of it. She was glad to see him.
“Hey, buddy. Come give your old mom a squeeze.”
“I’ve got some of those.”
They hugged, and Mike whispered into her ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my problems that nothing else seemed to matter.”
“I understand, but you’re here now.” She heard him catch his breath and felt hot tears against her cheek.
“How’s the Old Man doing?”
She moved away, looking down to the floor. “He’s hanging in there. His heart stopped a couple of times, but they brought him back and he seems stable, for now. They . . . the prognosis isn’t good, but he was always a fighter . . . until lately anyway.”
Mike knitted his brow together. “What do you mean?”
“Since Lexy . . . well, it took a huge toll on him. He’s been withdrawn, depressed, and not around much. He spends a lot of nights in his office, and I spend a lot of them alone.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know.”
Stella smiled that smile mothers use to show their children everything’s all right, even when it isn’t. “No worries. I’ve got a strong support group, and I’m getting through it. It’s amazing what you can do with the right kind of people around.” This time her grin held a double-meaning that Mike would never understand.
“I suppose that’s true.” He walked to the room where his dad lay between life and death, and disappeared inside. She waited. A few minutes later, he emerged with fresh rivulets of tears funneling to his beard. He was whiter than when he first came through the door.
“I hate all that stuff hooked up to him, it’s . . . he’d hate it,” he said in a quiet voice.
“I know, but all of that equipment is doing its job.” She gazed at her son and felt the anger snake its way back to her. Her son looked like hell, and worse, seemed lost. More to blame her weak, pathetic husband for. If he’d just done his job, professionally and personally, Mike wouldn’t be in this state, and of course, Lex would be here. The anger grew, and little dots of rage teased the corners of her eyes.
You bastard, Gavin Crosby, look what you’ve done to my kid, my life.
Stella put her hand on Mike’s, masking what she felt inside. “It’ll be over soon, one way or the o
ther. Then life will get back to normal, at least as much as it can.”
Puzzlement shrouded Mike’s face. “What does that mean? That it’ll be over soon.”
“I only mean that he’ll pull through, or he won’t. That’s all.” She forced her eyes to moisten. “I can’t take much more of this whole thing. I just want it over.”
Her son hugged her again. “I’ll be here, for both of us.”
“Okay. Enough of the sappy crap; your dad would have a fit,” she said, pulling away from him. “We just have to hang tough and expect the best.”
“Deal. God knows I’ve a got a few other things going on too. There was a man killed in the apartment next to mine last night.”
Stella glanced to the floor. “How awful.”
“Not really. He was a real scumbag, big-time pervert. I won’t miss him.”
She watched him twirl his hat around again and suddenly felt uneasy.
“Mom. I think I saw the woman who did it.”
Stella’s heart dropped to her toes. “Really?”
“Yeah. It was late. I had too much to drink. But I could have sworn—”
“Sworn what?” her heart threatened to pound right through her chest.
“Mom. Where were you last night about 2 a.m.?”
His eyes were clear, pointed, but the little-boy look had returned. He was afraid of her answer. The honest one. She opened her mouth to speak just as the elevator door clanked opened. Detectives Ross and Wymer stepped out with a big, burly, uniformed officer.
Kathy Ross pulled her cuffs and moved to Mike. “Mike Crosby. You’re under arrest for the murder of Blake Harris.”
Chapter-35
Manny pulled into his driveway, the window down on his Explorer, feeling the heat of the late afternoon sun and wondering where the last two days had gone. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder and was spent, physically and mentally.
Josh had called and said his plane would be in about midnight, earlier than first anticipated, but a good thing. Manny told Sophie and Alex to go home, get some sleep, and they’d meet with the Feds back at the station to bring them up to speed, then take it from there. Plus, they were bringing in some help from the Detroit FBI field office. The more the merrier on this one, especially with the forensic processing. Alex and his staff were amazing, but they couldn’t be in that many places at once. The Feds seemingly, however, could.
For once, Manny was going to follow his own advice. All he wanted was one of Louise’s famous barbequed steaks, a hug from his daughter, and a king-sized nap. As much as he hated shutting down for a few hours, even he was going to be out on his feet if he didn’t take care of business.
Every available officer was coming in to shore up patrols for the midnight shift, and his department would be out there too. Maybe with the stepped up patrols and the FBI involvement, they’d get lucky. Maybe not. He’d take anything at this point.
FBI involvement. That fact brought into focus again just how many resources the FBI had—and Lansing didn’t. Working for the Feds would have serious benefits, but could he leave the Lansing life? Especially now? What if Gavin didn’t make it? And what about the Crosby family? Stella was tough, but how tough could anyone be under all of the dire circumstances involving her family?
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. By now, Mike would be in jail. He’d apparently blown smoke up Manny’s ass about what had really happened in the apartment next door. Odd though. He’d never known Mike to lie about anything. Stress does odd things to people, and a night behind bars just might improve Mike’s memory.
His new phone rang just as he reached his front door. He did a double take. The caller ID said it was Chloe Franson.
Keeping busy had kept her out of his thoughts, yet there she was again, bigger than life and twice as beautiful. Shaking her image from his thoughts seemed to be getting tougher. He did it anyway. The phrase “Out of sight, out of mind” had helped. Not to mention, these cases would take everything he had . . . and more.
Feels like a damned soap opera.
“Williams here.”
“Manny. Chloe Franson. I see you got another phone. I was going to leave a voice mail, but lucky me, I got the real you.”
Her Irish inflection caused his stomach to do that thing again. “Ahhmm, yes I did. This one lets me track the hairs on my head, my calories, and when I need to get a physical.”
“I have one of those. It also lets the Bureau know where I am every second.”
“How’s that?” Were they small talking?
“It has a special built-in GPS. Big brother’s watching.”
“Makes sense.” They were.
The awkward silence lasted only a few seconds, but long enough for him to wander to the color of her eyes. This was getting a little more than weird. She must have felt it too. She jumped back into the conversation.
“Ah, I know that you’re busier than an English dentist, but Josh wanted me to call to say we’d be on time, and there would be four other agents coming from Detroit. He also said to tell you that Argyle would be in Michigan in a couple of days, not next week.”
“Good. On all accounts. Has Argyle talked yet?”
“Nope. Just wants an audience with you. That’s why the brass hurried things up. They want to hear what he’s got to say. They’re hoping he has no other bodies, just a line of crap. Then get him locked down in the Supermax at ADX in Florence.”
Louise came to the screen door, grilling fork in hand. Manny smiled at his wife.
“That works for me. See you tonight.” He hung up, not quite understanding why he was feeling the way he was, but glad to see his Louise at the same time.
Manny stepped through the door and kissed her.
“Glad you’re home. Who was that and what about tonight?”
“The FBI, and I’ll tell you the rest at dinner.”
“Manny. It’s 5:00 and you’ve been gone two days. You need to rest.”
“There have been three more murders, including one that Mike Crosby might be involved in.”
“Three more? Mike? Really? No wonder you look like this.”
“Like what?”
“You know, tired, worn out, horny.”
“Horny, huh? You offering your considerable talents to fight that cause?”
“Honey, I’ve got things to offer I’ve been saving for a rainy day.”
“Well, I feel a storm coming on.”
She smiled and kissed him. “Later.” Louise grew serious. “I feel bad for Stella. It must seem like she’s walking around with a target on her back: a big one.”
Manny decided not to tell her about what Mike thought he saw. It was probably a diversion to keep the heat off him anyway. “She’s got support from her friends—that’s something.”
Louise looked at the grilling fork and back to Manny. “She does. And she’s a tough one. Those Yoga classes we’ve been taking will help. All this just sucks.”
“When it rains, it pours, like they say. I’ll see her again tomorrow. But for now, a good meal and a few hours’ sleep sounds like Heaven.”
“Well, Jen is spending the night at a friend’s house. So when you’re ready to lie down, I guess, if you’re up to it, I can tuck you in.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Oh, I think I could handle that.”
“We’ll see, Big Boy, we’ll see,” she laughed, turning for the deck and the smoking grill.
Manny watched her walk away and wondered how there could ever be another woman for him. No matter what thoughts Chloe put in his head.
He felt the phone vibrate in his hand just before it rang. There was an incomplete number displayed, and he didn’t recognize the area code. “Hello.”
Manny waited for the person on the other end to speak. He could hear breathing.
“This is Detective Manny Williams; who is this?”
“You can call me Lucky. Because it’s your lucky day. I have something for you.”
The caller’s
voice was masked with an audio disguiser, making him or her sound like Darth Vader with a cold.
“I don’t talk to people who hide behind this kind of crap.”
“Suit yourself, but you better think twice about turning down this information.”
“How do I know I can use this information, that you aren’t jerking me around?”
“Judge for yourself.”
“All right, I’m listening.”
“I know who is shooting the perverts in this town.”
Manny stood straight. The caller had his full attention. The latest murders hadn’t reached the papers yet. It wasn’t common knowledge that there was more than one victim or that they were being shot. He steadied his voice. “How do I know this isn’t some prank? We get these calls all of the time.”
“I suppose you do, Detective Williams. But not everyone knows what I know.”
“What’s so special about what you know?”
“I know who tonight’s victim will be.”
Chapter-36
The tall woman gazed at her reflection in the mirror, wondering how someone like her had gotten to this point. She was smart, even brilliant, according to her old professors. The shape of her face, her coal black hair, and her big brown eyes added up to stunning. Not to mention, a body to die for. A patient smile formed on her thick lips when she thought about the last part. Men had died for her body, hadn’t they? More would. A lot more. The pigs always thought with the little head, and that was fine with her. In fact, necessary. If they were thinking about her, what she was offering, then getting them where she wanted them was easy. Child’s play really.
She folded her arms together, forming a substantial cleavage, and laughed. A little boob and they would forget everything their mamas and daddies ever taught them about playing with strangers.
But that was how she’d gotten where she was. Flaunting her assets created opportunities, but it also led her to open one too many of those dangerous doors, the kind that got you killed. He had overpowered her and kept her for three days, doing things to her that she only heard about in crime story magazines. Her captor had laughed when she begged him to stop, to let her go.