by G. K. Parks
Past Crimes
An Alexis Parker novel
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2021 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN:
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-29-5
For my mom and dad
Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:
Likely Suspects
The Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Whitewashed Lies
On Tilt
Purview of Flashbulbs
The Long Game
Burning Embers
Thick Fog
Warning Signs
Past Crimes
Sinister Secret
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
Reparation
Retaliation
Hunting Grounds
Liv DeMarco Novels
Dangerous Stakes
Operation Stakeout
Unforeseen Danger
Deadly Dealings
High Risk
Fatal Mistake
Lucien Cross Stories
Fallen Angel
Calculated Risk
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
One
“I told you to wait in the car,” Detective Derek Heathcliff whispered while the medical examiner went to grab the files.
“You forgot to crack the window,” I said.
He dug the car keys out of his pocket and shoved them into my hand. “Go wait in the car.”
“But you might need my help. I can consult.” I looked at him with big puppy dog eyes. “Please, Derek. My skills will get rusty if I don’t put them to use.”
“I doubt that. You work cases all the time for Cross Security.”
“It’s not the same.”
“You should have thought about that before you resigned from the FBI.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” I’d been having a lot of second thoughts about the path my life had taken after recent events. “Resigning was the right decision. Going back to the OIO is the mistake I’m paying for, that everyone’s paying for.”
He watched me from the corner of his eye. “Is that what you got out of the meeting we just left? Because that wasn’t the point.”
“What was the point? To make me cry? Every time someone shares during these little group therapy sessions of ours, I nearly lose it.”
“It’s not group therapy. It’s a support group.”
“Yeah, for those of us dealing with survivor’s guilt. News flash, the meetings make me feel worse. Working will take my mind off of it and make me feel better.”
“Are you sure? I know you don’t like bodies, and this one’s not pretty.”
“I can handle it.”
“I don’t have authorization to hire you as a consultant. That would require Lt. Moretti’s signature and paperwork. Lots of paperwork. The last thing you need—”
“Is to sit alone in your car and dwell on everything discussed in group. Let me focus on something else. Work’s always a good distraction. I’ll consult unofficially.”
“Fine, you can stay, but you can’t examine the body. Don’t say or touch anything. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re not here.”
I held up my palms and took a step back. “Hey, I’m invisible.”
The look in his eyes told me he regretted not dropping me off before coming here, but he didn’t want to ditch me after the meeting. We both needed moral support. He scanned the log sheet on the desk while we waited.
“All right, Detective Heathcliff, the medical examiner is ready for you.” The lab tech handed him a copy of the preliminary report.
Heathcliff flipped the pages, reading as he went. “Thanks.” He headed toward the door in the back, and I followed at his heels.
“Uh, Detective, your date can wait out here,” she said.
I turned to her. “I’m not his date.”
“Okay,” she checked the sign-in sheet, but I hadn’t signed in, “who are you?”
“She’s no one,” Heathcliff said. “She’s invisible, and she’s going to wait right here and not say a word.” He gave me a hard look. “Right, Alex?”
“What if someone sneezes? Can’t I say bless you?”
Rolling his eyes, he headed for the door. “I won’t be long.”
“Fine.”
When he opened the glass door, the smell of decay and industrial strength cleaner grew stronger and lingered even after the door shut. I studied the room. I’d been here a couple of times before. Frankly, I didn’t need to see an autopsy in progress or a body butterflied open on a table. The last time I did, I scrubbed my skin raw and even that didn’t get the smell off of me. Hopefully, being in the outer office would save me from such a fate. Heathcliff, on the other hand, was a goner.
The lab tech retook her seat, working on a report while glancing in my direction every few seconds. “Sorry, I know you’re invisible and not supposed to speak, but can I get you anything while you wait? A coffee or soda?”
“No, thanks.” I couldn’t see much through the hanging blinds, except for Heathcliff’s back and an occasional glimpse of a white lab coat or sheet. From this angle, it was hard to tell what the white fabric was. “Does Detective Heathcliff bring dates here often?”
“No, but a few of the guys in the department have tried it a time or two.”
“Badge bunnies,” I murmured.
“Most likely, unless they’re just into that whole death-goth scene.”
“Oh, the movies in the cemetery crowd. I know the type. It’s just another trend I don’t understand.”
“Me neither.” She stopped what she was doing. “I didn’t mean to offend you. But you didn’t sign-in, and I don’t see a badge hanging around your neck or from your belt. I figured since Heathcliff’s off-the-clock,
maybe he was actually enjoying some off duty companionship. The guy’s always so buttoned-up and serious about his job. I didn’t think he had any friends outside of work. I’m glad he was out, enjoying himself.”
“Enjoy would be the wrong word.”
“Well, whatever it was, I’m sorry it got interrupted.”
“I’m not.” The last place I wanted to be was stuck in a church basement. I moved closer to the desk, so I could glimpse the report she was working on. “Who’s the DB?”
“No idea. We’re hoping dental records will give us a match. Prints were beyond the realm of possibility, and DNA hasn’t gotten us anywhere yet.”
“But you’re already running it. When did the body come in?”
“Yesterday.”
“Cause of death?” I asked.
“We weren’t sure at first since there were so many options, but it looks like a fatal gunshot wound to the chest.”
“Why couldn’t you pull prints?”
“His fingertips were damaged, a combination of perimortem injury and degradation after being in the ground for so long.”
“In the ground?”
“Yeah,” she quirked an eyebrow, “he got dug up accidentally.”
“From where?”
“You’re inquisitive.”
I tried another approach. “How long do you think he’s been in the ground?”
“Are you sure you aren’t one of those death-obsessed freaks?”
“I’m sure.” I wasn’t obsessed with death, but it followed me around like a stray dog.
“Okay, who are you? You’re not a cop. You’re not the detective’s girlfriend or date. So why do you want to know these details? You’re not a reporter, are you?”
“No, just a police consultant.”
“I didn’t know the police hired a consultant for this case. We don’t even have the victim’s name yet.”
“They didn’t. I just happened to be with Heathcliff when he got the call, so he let me tag along.”
“I see.” She turned back to her report. Her attitude toward me had become less friendly in the last two seconds, though I wasn’t sure why.
“How long was the guy in the ground?” I asked again.
“Our best guess, based on the rate of decomp, is seven to ten years.”
“Wow, no wonder fingerprints aren’t viable. That’s a long time to be dead. Why the urgency?” DNA analysis usually took time because of the backlog. Why would a cold case get bumped to the top of the list?
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask the detective that question.”
I didn’t recall any high-profile unsolved murders from ten years ago, but around that time, I was just starting law school. I wasn’t paying attention to such things. Still, Heathcliff wouldn’t have come here immediately after our group therapy session if this wasn’t important.
While I waited for him to finish speaking to the medical examiner, I looked around the office. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see inside the lab, and the tech had stopped answering my questions. Maybe if I’d told her I was a private investigator or former federal agent, she would have been more forthcoming. It was hard to say for certain, but no matter my title, I had no authority to be here or request information. Those days ended the moment I handed in my badge.
“Sorry about that,” Heathcliff said as he stepped out of the lab, the door automatically closing behind him. He tapped the edge of the folder a few times against his palm. “Are you ready to get that drink now? I know I am.”
“Sure.”
We returned to the car, and he locked the folder in the trunk. I gave him a suspicious look when he got behind the wheel, but he pretended not to notice. “Do you need to call Martin?” He pointed to the clock on the dash. “We’re usually at the bar by now. You don’t want him to worry if he gets there before we do.”
“It’s Monday night. There’s not a chance in hell Martin’s even left the office yet. If you need to check-in at the precinct, we have time.”
“No, I already called Moretti and passed along John Doe’s COD. The ME sent the slugs to the lab, so ballistics should be back by morning. Hopefully, we’ll have an ID by then.”
“In that case, it looks like the rest of our night is free. We could go to a different bar. One that’s closer. I just have to let Martin know where to pick me up.”
“Nah, I like our usual bar. It’s quiet. I don’t know anyone there.”
I wondered if he was embarrassed to go to a cop bar with a security consultant or if he just didn’t want his brothers-in-blue to see us together. After all, I’d nearly gotten him killed not too long ago, and then I bungled a case with another police detective not too long after that, resulting in an innocent man’s murder. The police department probably figured I was a jinx.
The dust had barely settled when one afternoon Heathcliff barged into my office and forced me to go with him to a support group meeting. He’d been dragging me to these things every Monday and Thursday for the last four weeks. Tonight was the first time we broke from our routine of heading straight to a bar afterward to get sloshed.
“Not that I mind, but why did you have to rush down here after our meeting? I thought you were off duty,” I said.
“I’m a major crimes detective. There is no off duty.”
“I guess not.” I paused, but he remained tight-lipped. “This case must be really important. We could have ducked out of the meeting early.”
“The guy’s dead. He’s not going anywhere, but since the ME texted me that he finished the preliminary examination and determined COD, I figured it’d be best to find out what else he might have learned about John Doe.”
“Isn’t this a cold case?”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Didn’t you promise not to speak or ask questions?”
“I don’t recall.”
He let out a displeased humph. “If we’re right about who the victim is, this is an eight-year-old case.”
“I didn’t think John Doe had been IDed.”
“Not officially, but the LT has a theory who he might be.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where was the body found?”
“Near the airport. They just started clearing that spare field to expand the parking lot, and a backhoe dug him up.” Heathcliff remained facing forward, but his tone and body language stiffened. “Why are you so curious?”
“It’s in my nature. Do you want me to tell you the story of the scorpion and the frog?”
“Parker, you are not the scorpion. The scorpion couldn’t resist inflicting harm. That’s not you.” And just like that, he’d changed topics.
“You wanna bet?”
He hit the brakes, and I jerked forward in the seat. “Stop that right now. Agents Lucca and Jablonsky getting attacked and Cooper getting killed weren’t your fault.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re not okay. And I’m the one who dragged you into that mess.”
He hit the gas, waving at the motorists behind us who had honked at our abrupt stop. “Don’t start. You didn’t get me involved in anything.”
“Derek, you stepped in to save me. You’ve done it more than once, and every time, it’s cost you.”
“This last time it didn’t. I walked away, and you barely survived.”
“You didn’t walk. You set yourself up as bait. If that psycho hadn’t taken Lucca, he would have come for you.”
“I failed, and you were shot. He nearly killed you.”
This kind of thinking was the reason Heathcliff needed group therapy. Admittedly, I exhibited the same self-loathing and blame for the role I played in others’ suffering, which is probably why he made me endure these sessions with him. “Good thing scorpions are hard to kill.”
He slammed on the brakes again. The seatbelt caught me just before my face collided with the dashboard or the windshield. “Alex Parker, you are the biggest p
ain in the ass I know, and you’re also one of my closest friends. I care about you, which means I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you. I lost one partner. I won’t stand by and wait to lose another one. The entire point of these sessions is so you figure out this isn’t your fault and recover from this ordeal. But somehow, you seem to be missing the point.”
I ignored the angry beeping coming from behind us. “It seems you missed the point too.”
“No. I accept that I can’t control everything. I accept that I didn’t pull the trigger or hand my partner the razor blades. That’s not my fault. Sure, I wish I’d seen the warning signs, but she took time off. She didn’t want me to see her downward spiral. She didn’t want me to stop her. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done about that. I’ve learned to let that go, just like Gwen when she left the safe house. I could have kept her safe, but she didn’t let me. Now I’m working on letting go of the shit that just went down with you.”
“Derek—”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to turn a blind eye to someone in trouble. I won’t step away when there’s something I can do, some action I can take, to prevent a tragedy or stop an offender or save you if I can. You’re the same way. That’s why we fought. It’s why we’re fighting now.”
“We’re not fighting.” I held up my palms. “All I meant by my comment was that I have an inquisitive nature. I can’t help it.”
“Uh-huh.” Again, he waved off the annoyed drivers and continued to the bar. We didn’t speak again until he parked a block away.
“I hate how well you know me,” I said. “Not many people know where my thoughts will go, especially before I do. Honestly, I thought we could just talk about your case.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time together under tense conditions. I know how you operate.”
“I also know how you operate.” He’d intentionally changed the subject and put me on the defensive to avoid answering my questions about John Doe. “Why did you put the folder in the trunk? Why don’t you want me to read it? If you don’t think I pose a danger to you by getting involved, why are you afraid of me poking around in your case?”
“It’s not that.”