by Angie Martin
“Sir, Wichita is the largest city in Kansas. That may be small to the people in Los Angeles, but to me it’s very large and very important. I was born and raised right here in tornado alley. These are my people and I intend to stay here until I retire.”
Her words sealed Lionel’s decision to bring her into the homicide fold. “When do you take your detective exam?”
“In two months and three weeks, sir.”
“I imagine you plan on passing. If you want a run at homicide, you need a test drive first, but there’s a case on your record I’m concerned about.”
Her forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Sir?”
Lionel opened the file in front of him and skimmed the details. “Four months ago, you answered a call to a hit and run. Several blocks away from the accident, you arrested a woman named Jillian Waters at her apartment based on witness statements. The pedestrian she hit was taken to the hospital.” He looked up at Officer Rogers. “Why was she released without being formally charged?”
She dropped her gaze to the desk.
“Did you want to review the file to refresh your memory?”
“No, I remember the case.” She cleared her throat and adjusted in her seat. “The man she hit disappeared from the hospital. We had a witness to the accident, but because Waters fled the scene so quickly, he couldn’t positively identify her. He only knew the make, model, and color of her car, a partial license plate number, and which direction she headed.”
“Wasn’t the damage on her car along with that witness statement enough to charge her?”
“Not according to the D.A., sir.” Her stern voice had an edge of disdain. “He claimed we needed a victim for it to be a hit and run and that Waters would just say someone else used her car. He said we couldn’t prove otherwise.”
“You disagreed with his decision to release her?”
“I felt she could have been put away with the damage on her car and the witness statement. We could have matched the blood from the broken headlight to the blood taken from the victim at the hospital and worked with that to get her to make a deal. The D.A. didn’t like that because Waters lawyered up as soon as she was brought in. He didn’t want to take the case to trial with such little evidence.”
“Did you search for the man she hit?”
“For several days. He disappeared into thin air. He gave a fake name at the hospital and he had no identification on him at the time of the accident.”
“Did you find it strange he disappeared from the hospital?”
“Extremely, sir.” She leaned in, as if ready to share a secret. “Truth be told, I wanted to find him not just to charge Waters, but also to find out why he ran. People only run if they are in trouble or if they are hiding something.”
“Why didn’t you get a sketch of the victim made?”
“My commanding officer ordered us to stop working the case. He felt we had better things to do with our time, and he didn’t want to pass it off to detectives to investigate.”
“Do you always do what your commanding officer tells you?”
Officer Rogers hesitated. “No, sir. I kept looking off the clock for another week and came up empty. I couldn’t use department resources to get a sketch made, but I found something interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“At the hospital and in my interview with the victim, he gave the name John Smith, but when the paramedics asked his name at the scene, he said it was David.”
Alarms sounded in Lionel’s head, but he wanted to give Officer Rogers a chance to relay her theory. “What does that mean to you?”
“That his real name is David. He was in shock at the time he was hit and mistakenly gave his real name to the paramedic. Later, when he woke up in the emergency room, he lied about his name. To me, it means he was running from something and may have had a warrant or been involved in some kind of illegal activity.”
Lionel saw Shawn pacing in front of their office and he waved him in. “Officer Rogers, this is Detective Sergeant Shawn Brandt. He’s been my partner for longer than either of us care to remember.”
Officer Rogers got to her feet and shook his hand, clearly impressed with meeting Shawn. “It’s an honor, sir. You have a great reputation with the beat cops.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Lionel said. “Most of it is just rumors.”
Shawn laughed, and Officer Rogers slowly joined in the laughter.
Once they were both sitting, Lionel turned to Shawn. “Rogers just shared an interesting theory about the man that Jillian Waters hit. He gave the name David to the paramedics at the scene, but told the hospital staff and the officers that his name was John Smith. Rogers believes he gave his name correctly the first time due to shock, but changed it later because he might be in trouble with the police.”
Shawn arched his eyebrows. “Rogers has a good theory there.”
Lionel reached under the folder on his desk and held up the sketch of their serial killer for Officer Rogers to see. Before he could say a word, her face lit up with recognition. “That’s him,” she said, pointing to the picture. “That’s David.”
Lionel laid down the sketch. “That’s what we thought. I’m going to let you run with your theory again. I’ve taken you off your beat for the next few weeks to work on our task force that’s searching for the serial killer. Who is your partner?”
“Officer Andre Wilham, sir.”
“I haven’t heard of him. Is he as good as you are?”
“No, sir,” Officer Rogers said with a smile. “But he’s close and he’ll make a fine detective someday.”
Lionel mused that her answers were getting better the longer the meeting continued. “I’ll make sure Officer Wilham gets a solid replacement for a partner while you work with us. I want you to shadow Detectives Aurelio and Timmons. Do you know them?”
“Detective Aurelio, sir. She’s an excellent role model for women on the force.”
“That she is,” Shawn said.
“Detective Aurelio will teach you how to follow the rules,” Lionel said. “Detective Timmons will teach you how to bend them the proper, legal way. The three of you will get a subpoena for hospital footage from the time David was brought in until he went missing. The hospital won’t just release that due to patient confidentiality, so the subpoena will be necessary. The fact that the sketch of our killer has been positively identified as your hit and run victim, David, is the primary reason you will give for the subpoena. It’s also justified on the basis that Jillian Waters was identified as our killer’s latest victim, and her attack was different than those of the other victims.”
“He slashed up her face,” Shawn said. “It was personal.”
Officer Rogers scribbled in her notepad as he spoke. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll need to scour the security tapes with other officers until you find him. We need more than just a sketch on this guy and we need it right away.”
Officer Rogers looked up at Lionel with curiosity.
“He took another girl,” Shawn said in response to her unasked question. “He’s had her for almost two days now and he could kill her at any time, if he hasn’t already.”
For the first time since entering his office, Officer Rogers faltered. Her lips parted, and her bottom lip trembled with shaky breathing.
Lionel leaned forward. “Do not misinterpret our meeting today, Rogers. It isn’t set in stone that you’re coming to homicide once you pass your detective exam. This is a test, not only of your detective skills, but also of your ability to look at victims who have been ripped away from their loved ones while keeping your composure at all times.”
“Homicide is not pretty,” Shawn said, “and it’s not what you see on television. Bodies are not always freshly dead and in good condition. Victims are sometimes extremely young and vulnerable. The one who commits the crime is sometimes the person you think is least capable of doing so. Next thing you know, you start having bad dreams, and then the people you love ar
e affected.”
“If you don’t think you can handle it,” Lionel said, “you can say so and no one will hold it against you. Most officers can’t handle what we deal with here, yet they still have exemplary careers as detectives in other divisions.”
Officer Rogers’s resolve returned and she stood up. “Sir, I am completely confident in my ability to handle everything homicide has to offer.”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way at the end of this case,” Lionel said. “Now, go get a subpoena.”
“Thank you, sir.” She turned to Shawn and nodded at him.
As she reached for the doorknob to go, Lionel stopped her. “And Rogers?”
She whirled around and faced him. “Sir?”
“When you work in homicide, you always do what your commanding officer tells you.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Forty-four
The wait was finally over. Stephanie’s fear spilled out from the basement, seeped through the walls, and pulled him toward her. David caressed the sharp blade of his knife with his fingertips and descended the steps to the basement. He ran his tongue across his dry lips and tried to contain his excitement. For two days, he resisted the urge to kill her, and now he could savor the way his knife would dance across her skin and slice through her.
Cowering in a corner, Stephanie looked up when he entered the door at the bottom of the steps. As he neared, he showed her the knife, and her eyes filled with tears, exactly like so many others before her. She appeared to have been expecting another plate of food, not pain and death.
She stood up and pushed her back up against the wall, as if trying to become part of it.
David stopped walking. “Feel free to sit,” he said. “Let’s talk for a bit.” He sat down on the floor, shifted into a cross-legged position, and encouraged her to do the same.
Her eyes darted between his face and the knife. After a long moment, she followed his lead. She took a couple steps toward him and sat back down on the tiles. When he brought her lunch earlier, she no longer asked questions or screamed at him. She continued to maintain her silence now, despite his invitation to talk.
“Do you still want to know who I am and why you’re here?”
She nodded.
“First, I have a question for you.” He gestured with his knife as he spoke. “Why are you so nice?”
Bewilderment sparked in her vacant eyes, and David sensed her fear taking a backseat to confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Everywhere you go, you’re friendly to people. You were friendly even to me, and I’m going to kill you tonight.”
At his words, Stephanie scrambled backward until she crouched against the wall.
David laughed at her actions. “Well, what did you think the knife was for, if not to kill you?” She didn’t respond, so he gave her the same nugget of hope that he enjoyed sharing with his other victims. “Your answer to my original question might change my mind about killing you.”
As a peace offering, he laid the knife down by his right side. He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.
Stephanie’s eyes darted around the room, as if searching for either her answer or for her escape. “I-I never really considered m-myself ‘nice’ or ‘n-n-not nice’ or anything else. I’m j-j-just myself with p-people.”
Her sudden stutter surprised David. “I haven’t heard you stutter yet.”
“I st-stuttered as a k-kid. I haven’t d-d-done it for years.”
“It’s because you’re really scared now,” David said. “Think out the words before you say them and think about how they sound. The stutter will go away again.”
“Okay,” Stephanie said.
“Kids who stutter usually are teased a lot by mean kids. Did that happen to you?”
“I w-w-w...” Stephanie paused and took a deep breath, focusing on her words just as David suggested. “I was teased a lot,” she said.
“If you know how cruel people can be, why are you so nice? Why invite cruelness into your life?”
“I never wanted to treat p-people the way those kids treated me. I d-didn’t want anyone else to feel what I felt.”
David rolled her explanation around in his mind. “That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard someone say when they’re sitting where you are now. I’ve heard a lot of lies, a lot of stories, a lot of exaggeration. Why is it when someone is facing death, do they feel the need to lie? It’s never made much sense to me.
“You’re such a nice person that I wish I could tell you this will be painless and quick. I just don’t want to lie to someone as honest as you. You almost make me want to be a better person.” A vicious smile grabbed his lips and he held up the knife. “Almost.”
She lifted her hands and covered her face. Her shoulders heaved with her tears. “Please don’t,” she said through her hands.
“You and I both know that I’m not going to let you go. But since you’re such a nice person, you should take some comfort that all the pain you experience is for a really good cause. You’re going to help Emily and I become part of each other. That’s the only way I can get her to come to me.”
Stephanie lowered her hands away from her face. “You want me to help you t-trick someone to come here so you can k-kill them?”
“No, Stephanie,” he said in his softest voice. He stood up. “I love Emily. I could never hurt her, but the only way to bring her here is to hurt you. Unfortunately, I have to hurt you a lot to make that happen.” He pulled her up by her shirt as gently as he could.
As she got to her feet, she gave a preemptive yelp and scream. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “Now, I want you to scream her name.”
Chapter Forty-five
Emily used her toes to rotate the faucet in the bathtub until the water slowed to a drip. Not for the first time, she wished she had whirlpool jets in her tub to massage the stress of the day away.
That was the wine’s job, she thought, and lifted her glass to her lips. Where she usually opted for one glass at the end of the day, lately that one glass had turned into three or four.
The day hadn’t been all that bad. After she returned to the office from interviewing Lindsay Alcott, Emily managed to catch up on most of her paperwork. Cassie finished the background check on Gina Cobalt, and Emily had the privilege of calling to offer her the job.
The excitement in Gina’s voice when she accepted the job had been the high point in Emily’s day, until she saw Jake an hour later. Spending time with him trumped everything else in her life. They enjoyed a late dinner at a pizza and beer place near her office, and reluctantly parted ways after a long, sensuous kiss goodnight.
Dealing with the growing darkness all day had drained Emily’s energy. She enjoyed the reprieve from it while with Jake, but it returned once she left his side. Though she intended for the bath and wine to relax her and help her ignore the presence in her mind, the nausea that came with the darkness curdled her stomach, making it difficult for her to focus on the paperback mystery novel she tried to read.
She set the book down on the edge of the bathtub next to her wine glass and closed her eyes. She leaned her head back and the ends of her hair fell into the warm water. If only she had stayed later with Jake. He had invited her back to his house for a drink and to spend more time together, but with an early morning fast approaching, she decided to be responsible and go home.
Now she wished they were still together. He was the only one that made the darkness disappear. She didn’t know why he kept it away, except it stemmed from the night they met, when he broke into her mind without trying. Because of that night, they had an incredible connection. It was the only explanation of why he could override the entity that wanted to take over her mind.
Tomorrow she planned on taking Cassie to see Marta Mendez to see if she could help Emily with the darkness. When Aunt Susan was alive, Emily had spent a lot of time at Marta’s flower shop with Aunt Susan, where the long
time friends helped her explore her talents and hone her abilities. After she passed away, Emily’s visits became less frequent until she stopped going altogether. Marta reminded her too much of Aunt Susan, and the painful memories prevented her from seeing Marta.
Emily climbed out of the bathtub and dried off with a fresh towel. She retreated to her room and put on a pair of pajama shorts and a camisole. As soon as she finished dressing, the throbbing in the side of her head worsened and her stomach cramped from overwhelming nausea.
Looking around her room, she realized Bob had disappeared while she was in the bathtub. She called his name, but he didn’t run into the room. Even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to cure her of her physical ailments. Only Jake could do that.
She grabbed her cell phone off her dresser and pulled up Jake’s number. Tomorrow was a long time away, and she wanted some help before she spoke to Marta. Jake might know something that could help once she told him what was happening to her. Even if he didn’t, he could repel the darkness and provide her some relief.
Emily!
A violent cramp seized Emily’s midsection. She grasped the phone and doubled over in pain. The voice came again and weakness seized her limbs. Her legs failed and she crashed to the ground. The darkness slithered through her mind, expanding until she felt nothing else. The cell phone slipped out of her hand, and she lowered her head into her hands. She couldn’t handle much more. With Stephanie Price still missing, it had to be her calling out to Emily. She didn’t want to hear Stephanie die in the same torturous manner as the women before her.
Another cramp gripped Emily’s stomach and a vise tightened around her head. “Stop it!” she cried out. The longer Stephanie suffered, the closer she got to death. Emily closed her eyes and gave into the pain. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered to the entity within the darkness. “Just stop hurting her and tell me.”
Emily!
Bile filled the back of her throat and she crawled into her bathroom. She lifted the toilet seat lid just in time to throw up her dinner. Her throat turned raw from the regurgitated pizza sauce, and she wretched into the toilet until her stomach was empty. After several dry heaves forced her to throw up stomach acid, the cramping in her abdomen subsided just enough for her to sit up.