On the Count of Three, page 26
“Okay, I’ll have Nadia take care of all that,” Jack said as his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered on speaker. “Talk to us, Nadia.”
“I’ve got some updates for you,” she started. “The threat sent to that lawyer, Henderson, came from a free online account. I tracked down the IP address, and from there I can get a physical one, but I have to wait until the morning to reach the owner of the IP.”
Zach perched on the edge of his chair, surprised. One didn’t need to be tech savvy to utilize an open-source router that hides IP addresses and provides fake ones. “You got an IP?”
“I did, but it’s too early to get excited about it.”
“I agree,” Zach said. Just as Brandon had pointed out, following the hate mail might not even take them to the killer.
“I’m still working on compiling a list of people whose names popped in relation to all the victims from the accidents and the ones who were murdered. I’ve just scratched the surface,” Nadia said. “I’ve found three names so far that are the same—one female doctor, a male nurse, and a female paramedic. Given their clean backgrounds, I’d say none are worth further scrutiny.”
“Let us be the judge of that,” Jack told her. “Send their information over to us, just in case.”
“You got it.”
“And what about the delivery guy?” Jack started. His phone pinged with notification of a message. “Tell me he was in the system.”
“No can do, but I wish I could. I ran his pic through facial recognition databases. Nada.”
Jack went on and requested what Paige had suggested, then added, “Did you get the deposit information from the church about the unsub’s payment to Ava Jett?”
“Not yet.”
“Let me know the moment you do.” He hung up. “Let’s carry on. Find out if the families affected by West’s accident received donations. See if they recognize our supposed unsub or delivery guy.” Jack sighed and pulled out his cigarettes. “We’ll talk to those families, then get a fresh start tomorrow.”
“I realize there are three families,” Kelly started, “but do you want me to go to one of them or get the signed subpoena for the cardholder information?”
“Stick with the latter. The team will divvy up the three families.” With that, Jack was out the door.
Zach was too tired to move. If he kept his job with the BAU, even if he did come home alive, would he have any energy left for his wife and child? He yawned, not too sure that he would.
-
Forty-Four
The Night burned within him, and it was becoming next to impossible to ignore. It spoke to him, taunted him, lured him with memories of how glorious it felt to have the power of life and death within his grasp.
He gripped his head, willing the Night to disappear into the darkness, even if just for a little while. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?” he mumbled to himself and shivered at the realization that he’d said it aloud.
His hands were shaking, and when he looked at them it was as if they were no longer his own. He tucked them into his pants pockets, letting the tremor of the Night lace through him.
As he felt it calm, he slipped the key into the door of Roxanne’s apartment building.
Kill her tonight.
He stopped, glanced around, but no one was there. Now he could hear the Night talking to him?
He gulped. Each step he took inside the building was tentative. He had to slow the killings. And this was Roxanne. Harmless Roxanne. Unless she’d talked to the police… But she’d told him she hadn’t, and she hadn’t pressed his interest in the police any further. Her birdbrain had likely thought he was concerned about getting in trouble for breaking a paper towel dispenser.
He picked up his speed, opting to take the stairs to her fifth-floor apartment instead of the elevator. A part of him defended Roxanne’s life. She was of more use to him alive. It’s why he’d apologized for running out on her at the restaurant and for choking her. Sometimes the words I’m sorry were necessary, whether true or not. It kept her compliant, submissive.
He stopped outside her apartment door and took a deep breath, not fully trusting the Night to stay concealed. He lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could. She was standing there staring at him, a scowl on her face.
Ah, so she wants to play hard to get…
“I thought we were good, baby.” He reached for her hand and she recoiled under his touch, though she didn’t step out of reach. She wanted him to work for her forgiveness.
“I can understand you being angry.” Though it was about as laughable as an ant raging at a tromping shoe.
“You left me there, all alone,” she whined. If she was trying to put up a brave front, she was failing bitterly. She had no backbone. In fact, he smiled as he caught a whiff of fried ground beef, onions, and mashed potatoes.
“You made my favorite meal,” he said and tossed out a smile. He’d almost killed her, yet she was making things up to him.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you.” She pointed a finger at him.
He pulled her arm down, smooshed his body against hers and captured her mouth. He kept pressing, backing her into the apartment. He closed the door with his foot, his hands running over her body. She melted against him, the embers of her supposed contempt already turning to ash.
He pulled back, ran a hand over her head, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Am I forgiven?”
She tilted up her chin, being harder to appease than normal. But even so, her performance was lacking; weakness was in her eyes.
He took her mouth and this time it stirred awake the Night. He pulled back panting and pushed away from her.
“Hey,” she cried out. Her eyelids were lowered seductively.
He turned his back to her, clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He stuffed the Night deep down inside and faced her again. “I wouldn’t want dinner to get cold. You have worked so hard on it.”
Her snarled expression relaxed, and she smiled. “Guess I can’t be mad at you forever, and shepherd’s pie is a little work.”
He inhaled, this time for show, though he did savor the smells associated with the dish. They were homey and comforting, like life before it had darkened.
“When’s it going to be ready?” he asked.
“I put it in the oven just a bit ago. It has more than thirty minutes to go. Come, I have a surprise for you.” She hooked her finger and moved toward the living room.
He followed. “A surprise?”
“Here.” She picked up a package from her coffee table, one of the few pieces of furniture in this room. And like the rest, it would have been picked up at IKEA.
The box was wrapped in silver paper and red ribbon—likely leftover from Christmastime. He recalled her wrapping his gift with the same paper back then. Only the box from the holidays was much bigger than this one. He struggled to stamp down his amusement. He messes up, and she makes up for it—in spades.
He pointed to the gift. “What’s that?”
“You can open it before dinner if you’d like.” She handed it to him and sat on the couch. She patted the cushion beside her.
The package was light. Two pounds at the most. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I really wanted to.” She smiled, naive and pathetic.
“I’m the luckiest man alive,” he said, humoring her without her even knowing it.
“You are.” She was still smiling. “Go ahead and open it. I hope it makes you happy.”
I hope so, too…
He looked at her, baited by her words. He took hold of the ribbon, tugged an end, and slid the bow apart. He then tore the paper, without care or precision.
“Oh.” Roxanne clapped her hands and was grinning like a baboon.
He glanced over at her but went back to attacking the paper. It ripped away to reveal the box for a cell phone. The blood in his veins went cold.
“To replace the one you broke.” She was still smiling at him. “I thought I’d surprise you. Turns out all they needed was the SIM card, but I did pick up all the pieces—” She stopped talking, frozen under his glare.
His insides darkened and swirled. His heartbeat sped up, and he could hear its thumping in the back of his neck. The Night clawed up his spine. This phone now had Jenna’s SIM card in it. The police could be tracking it right now.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” he said, struggling to keep the Night’s rage tamped down.
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. The salesman said all your contacts should be in there.”
All of Jenna’s contacts…
Again, he said, “You shouldn’t have done this.” Heat blanketed him even as shivers danced across his skin. The Night was stalking in. It would do whatever was necessary to protect itself.
He stood, grabbing the phone from the box, the packaging falling to the floor. He pressed a button on the phone and the screen remained dark. Yet, it did little to reassure him. “Did you turn it on?”
“No, no, of course not. The guy at the store had to turn it on to add the SIM card—just to make sure it was working—but I swear I didn’t violate your privacy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Furthest thing from my mind…
The cops tracking the damn thing was foremost. He had no doubt they’d be watching the phone, and they’d have known the second it was reactivated. But maybe there was a chance they wouldn’t find their way here.
He got down on his knees in front of Roxanne and gripped her shoulders, his face mere inches from hers. “How did you pay for this?”
“I… I…” Her eyes were full of tears, and he could feel her trembling beneath his hands.
He took a few deep breaths in through his nose, exhaled through his mouth. He should have just taken her with him when he’d left the restaurant. He could have prevented all this…
He held the phone up in her face. “How. Did. You. Pay. For. It?”
She swallowed loudly. “Credit card.”
He didn’t know how fast the cops worked, but they could be moving in on the building now. He got up and paced in a circle. “When was this?” Regardless of her answer, he had to be running out of time.
“Just after work today,” she said between clipped breaths. “I got to the store at about five thirty.”
Kill her!
The Night screamed for her blood. He pinched his eyes shut for a few seconds. Opened them. “Which store?”
“Bob’s Wireless—”
He stopped moving. “The one we’ve gone to together before?”
She nodded.
Kill her!
He took another breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. What the hell was he going to do?
He pinched his eyes shut again. Surely it would take the cops some time to track Roxanne’s apartment down through her credit card. Everything might be okay—for now. As long as she hadn’t turned the phone on. As long as she had told him the truth. He opened his eyes. “You swear to me you didn’t turn the phone on since you left the store?”
“I promise I didn’t.”
He lunged across the room, closing the distance between them again, and gripped her throat in his hands and squeezed. Her eyes bulged. “Did you—”
“No, no,” she croaked. Tears ran down her face. “Please…” She clawed at his hands. All he’d have to do was squeeze and squeeze until he watched the life drain from her eyes, give release to the Night. An offering.
But when will the killing stop?
He loosened his hold incrementally, forcing himself to release her, and seconds later, he stepped back from her. He took another deep, centering breath. He was barely keeping the Night at bay.
She touched her neck, and her entire body was shaking as she heaved for breath.
“Thank you for the phone,” he forced out through gritted teeth.
“If you…don’t…like it…I can…just take it…back.” The sentence fragmented as she continued to fight for air.
“It was a lovely thought,” he said, using every morsel of willpower inside of him to come across as calm and collected. It appeared to be working, as she was palming her cheeks and no new tears were falling.
“So you like it?” She sounded hopeful but fragile, though she always came across as fragile. And it was just the way he liked her. Fragile things broke easily.
-
Forty-Five
I’m going to hold it together. I’m going to hold it together.
I was armed with peppermint gum and chomping down on it like a nicotine addict trying to shake smoking.
Kelter’s severed head was on the gurney in front of me. The team was with me, but Marsh had an appointment at the bakery this morning. Lucky her. Better scenery. Better smells.
We were waiting for Lily to start the autopsy, and I had to put my mind elsewhere for a bit. At least we were finally starting to get some traction with this case. Before we had come to the morgue, we’d briefed one another on how we’d made out with the three sets of parents affected by West’s accident. Each of them had confirmed receiving donations of thirty thousand dollars apiece. So we knew now that our unsub had a generous heart—as cold and ironic as that seemed. Especially considering Exhibit A in front of me.
Chomp, peppermint, chomp, peppermint, chomp, peppermint.
“I had some time to look over the remains before you got here,” Lily began. “And I’m pretty sure you’re going to be interested in what I found.” She snapped on a pair of gloves and traced around the base of the neck where it had been severed. “If you look closely, you’ll notice faint bruising. At first, I thought it had to do with the beating inflicted on the head, but that’s not what it’s from.”
Tingles ran down my spine. I had a feeling I knew what she was about to say. “She was strangled?”
Lily simpered. “You stole my thunder, boy.”
I winced. “Sorry. I’ll keep quiet.”
Lily looked at me with a cross between a smirk and scowl. “She was strangled—”
“That’s the cause of death, then? She wasn’t decapitated when she was alive?” I asked.
“She was decapitated alive, of that I have no doubt, but before that she was also strangled,” Lily said. “She likely lost consciousness if the bruising is any indication. But a lot of people are into that sexual asphyxia crap these days. Why anyone wants to see the white light to orgasm beats me, but to each their own, I suppose.” Her last sentence was riddled with judgment.
“Strangulation is intimate, and even if sexual assault isn’t involved, it can be a sort of sexual release,” Zach explained. “We’ve already surmised that the sexual element is very important to our unsub.”
My stomach tossed. Severed heads approached the scale of being bearable compared with necrophilia. I didn’t want to give the matter too much thought—or any actually. Whether our unsub sexually violated the corpse or the unconscious Kelter—or both—I really didn’t want to know.
“Is it possible that West and Sullivan were strangled, as well, and the MEs could have just missed it?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely,” Lily said. “It could have easily been overlooked. And I’d wager the deceased—” she gestured to the severed head “—was strangled within just hours of decapitation.”
“There was more decomp with Kelter, as well,” Paige said, “than there was with West and Sullivan. It’s possible the bruising hadn’t shown up by the time the MEs did their thing.”
“Possible, but it’s more likely there would have been some,” Lily said. “Though the contusions would have been fainter. I will request autopsy photos from the previous victims and see if I can spot signs of strangulation. Don’t hold your breath. Like I said, they might be harder to see, and depending on the quality of the photographs and the lighting…” Lily pressed her lips. “What I can confirm is I stand by my original estimated TOD, which I know isn’t a very narrow window, but I might have something for you.” Lily smiled, and I looked at her sideways. Her eyes spoke of a secret. “I was able to do what I did with Banks’s contusions and estimate the person who killed this victim was also six three or roundabouts. I have even more for you. I have fingerprints.” Lily was grinning like the cat who ate the canary now. “They were pulled from her neck and were a match in the system to ones pulled from the restroom at La Casa de Jose.”
Now the entire team was grinning, myself included. We could finally link our unsub to a murder.
-
Forty-Six
Kelly had hardly slept last night. How could she have when she’d been so busy tossing and turning, wondering what else Christine from Sweet Tooth Bakery had to share? Or maybe it was the sugar intake after eight at night when she finally had eaten the cookie she’d bought.
She shook that notion aside. It had definitely been about Christine. Kelly wished she’d made arrangements to meet Christine when her shift ended. But there had been the call about Bob’s Wireless… That had sent her off on another path for a signed subpoena.
She’d already run this morning, had eaten, and was fully caffeinated when she set out for the bakery at seven thirty.
Christine greeted her with a serious expression and gestured for her to bypass the line that went from the doors to the counter. Some customers grumbled as Kelly brushed past them. They didn’t want to hear her pardons or apologies. When she got to the front, Kelly saw that Christine was working with three other women. Kelly stepped to the right of where Christine was posted.
