Kitabı oku: «A Serial Affair», sayfa 3

Chapter 4

Marina arrived at the station early the next day to find Reed at his desk, already at work on the computer. “I ran a cross-search of the violent death files on the computer with Merriwhether and hit the jackpot,” he said proudly.

“How many did you find?” she asked, praying that several murders hadn’t already gone by without someone making a connection.

“Just one. I’m printing the file now.”

Stepping around the stack of files on the floor, she stowed her purse in the desk drawer and locked it. Then she dropped into her chair and scooted close to Reed.

The printer whined just behind them and began spitting out the pages. Swiveling her chair around, Marina grabbed the first couple of sheets and began to scan them.

The victim’s name was Aubrey Russell. Twenty-seven years old, his body was found behind a popular nightclub, the Hot Spot, in the early morning hours. He’d been stabbed, his body mutilated. He’d also been killed about four months prior to the discovery of Colton Edwards’ body. Four months! “I think we’ve got a big lead on the cooling off period between the murders,” Marina said, grabbing a pen and a slip of paper to jot down the record number for the file.

Reed’s voice sounded close to her ear. “I’ve already ordered the full file. It has a lot more in it than they put on the computer system.”

Marina turned, her face almost colliding with his. She was excited about the new information and knew he was, too, but as their gazes held, something deep inside her heated and she momentarily lost her train of thought. Recovering quickly, she asked, “Did you notice that there was about four months between each of the murders?”

“Yeah, I’ve sketched out a timeline.” He showed her a piece of graph paper where he’d written down the months and marked the date of each murder with a star.

Marina glanced at her watch. It was only a quarter to eight. She worked to keep the note of censure out of her voice. “You’ve been at this awhile.”

“Yeah. I really want to catch this killer and I’ve got a lot riding on it.” Reed rubbed his eyes absently with the sides of his forefingers. “I woke up early this morning thinking about it and decided that I might as well get in here early. We’re going to find this killer, whoever he is.”

“Yes, we are.” Marina inserted her laptop into the docking station. She liked to be first in everything and on a team she drove herself to do her share or more. Right now it looked as if she would have to start getting into the office a little earlier if she wanted to keep up with Reed. “How long before we get the hard copy of the rest of the file?”

Reed stood, tall and broad-shouldered in a deep blue shirt and navy slacks. “It should be ready. I’ll go get it right away.”

Marina’s gaze strayed and she noticed the way the slacks covered his nicely shaped butt and hinted at muscular thighs. Reed had always been something of a contender in the eye-candy department. He had nice, big shoulders and an easygoing walk that radiated confidence. Gritting her teeth, she headed to the coffee area with a big cup. Did he have to look so good this early in the morning?

Together, Marina and Reed studied the details in Aubrey Russell’s file. She’d braced herself for what she’d see in the pictures, but her stomach still bucked and her throat froze. Somehow she managed to maintain her dignity. Russell had been stabbed in the chest and abdomen, like the others. He’d also been unmanned, the severed organ left close to the body.

Giving Reed the pictures, she pulled out another section of the file to study. “We need to get down to MUC to get their records,” she told him.

He nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing and I put in for a warrant, but we still don’t know what we’re looking for. Maybe we should talk to Washington’s friends and family first, and see what’s been dug up in the investigation? We need more to go on.”

Marina glanced at her spreadsheet and agreed that they still knew too little about the victims and the things they had in common. “Has Forensics got enough to give us some preliminary findings?”

Reed checked his watch. “SaintCloud, the forensic specialist assigned to us, said we could come by after nine and he’d be ready.”

Reed led Marina through the glass doors of the Forensic Sciences department. Eric SaintCloud was a wiry, intense man of about thirty-five with dark hair and piercing gray eyes. His gaze was steady as he shook Marina’s hand firmly. He directed them into his lab area where he’d set up most of the work he’d done so far.

Going through his analysis of the victim’s wounds, he informed them that the serial killer had used a knife similar to a common steak knife with a serrated edge on all three victims.

“I found something interesting. None of the three victims had defensive wounds on the hands, arms or forearms of their bodies,” Eric said. “Most stab victims have defensive wounds. Preliminary results of blood samples taken from Mr. Washington have been inconclusive, but I suspect that he was drugged. Maybe the others were, too.

“The killer probably used ketamine, a date rape drug, which would have impaired motor function, distorted perceptions of sight and sound, and given him a dreamlike feeling. Washington had been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. Samples from the glasses at the scene are being analyzed. Alcohol alone would have slowed his reflexes enough for someone to take him by surprise, but I’m betting that an additional drug immobilized him enough for his attacker to repeatedly stab him.”

“How many times?” Marina asked, determined to keep her cool.

“Preliminary count, twenty.” SaintCloud didn’t skip a beat.

Marina blinked, swallowing a curse. There was a lot of anger and rage in twenty stab wounds. She added the information to the profile she’d been building in her head. “What about the other two victims?”

“Twenty to twenty-five times.” SaintCloud turned to remove something from the table. “This was found on Mr. Washington’s body.” He showed them a magnified photo of a blond hair. “It’s from a wig that can be bought in any number of stores in the Chicago area.”

“But that doesn’t mean that our killer has to be a woman,” Marina put in.

“That’s true.” SaintCloud continued, “Some of the stab wounds were to the chest, but most were below the waist on all three victims. Analysis shows that the attacker stood at least five foot eleven.”

Marina nodded. “We need forensics to see if the same knife was used on all the victims, and if the angles and depth of the blows indicate whether we’re looking for a man or a woman.”

“Already working it,” SaintCloud said smugly.

Reed’s head came up. “You don’t think we’re looking for a man? Aren’t most serial killers lower-to middle-class white males?”

“Been doing your homework?” Marina teased, raising an eyebrow.

When Reed merely flashed her a lopsided grin in response, she continued. “Yes, most serial killers are male, but the things that have been done to the bodies could also have been done by a woman who hated men.”

“It’s just less likely,” Reed put in.

Marina agreed. “Maybe these guys knew each other. Maybe they knew their killer, too. Then you probably know that serial killers usually choose victims that are vulnerable. I don’t see anything in the files that shows these guys as being vulnerable in any way.”

Marina left the forensics department with Reed, certain that the evidence supported their initial assumption that all three victims had the same killer. There still wasn’t enough information to determine if the killer was male or female.

By nine Reed and Marina had their notebooks and files and were getting into Reed’s unmarked car, headed for Lissa Rawlins’ place. They didn’t call first because Reed didn’t want to spook Lissa and give her a chance to run.

Apparently remembering their visit yesterday, the guard in the lobby simply nodded when he saw them. They buzzed the condo and a woman’s sleepy voice answered. Reed gave her their names and asked to be let into the condo. As Lissa buzzed them in, Marina glanced at him in surprise. Taking the small success in stride, Reed pretended not to notice.

Lissa Rawlins opened the door to her loft condo and Reed’s first look was enough to make him pause. Lissa was barely dressed in a revealing pair of red baby-doll pajamas and matching red-mink mules. Her double-D-size breasts thrust out like ripe melons. With effort, he focused on her face, made up Marilyn Monroe style. “We can wait for you to put something on,” he suggested carefully.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant Crawford,” she said, flashing him a smile right off the ad for 1-800-HotBabe. “Come on in and get comfortable.”

Reed strode into the high-ceilinged entryway, and onto a patch of the morning sunlight spilling in from the palladium windows. Marina followed close on his heels.

“This is my associate, Special Agent Marina Santos,” he added.

Barely nodding at Marina, Lissa faced Reed.

“This is about Elliot, isn’t it?”

Marina spoke from just behind Lissa. “Yes, it is.”

Lissa ignored her. “Have a seat on the couch,” Lissa told Reed. She moved ahead of him, spicing up the view with a provocative rotation of her slim hips.

Glancing back, he almost laughed at the annoyed expression on Marina’s pretty face. She hated to be ignored. Was she a little bit jealous, too? He suppressed a smile at the thought. Why should she be comfortable when just being around her kept him on edge? He hadn’t gotten over her yet, but he wasn’t going to let that or a nearly naked woman stop him from doing his job and finding the serial killer.

Reed took one side of the plush white sofa and Lissa sat with a knee beneath her, effectively taking the rest of the couch with a long leg spanning the distance between them. Marina settled for the matching chair across from them.

“I’ve been out of town,” Lissa explained, “but I knew that sooner or later someone was going to come around asking questions about Elliot. Am I a suspect?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Reed said carefully. “I’d describe you as a person of interest in the case.”

Lissa seemed to like that response. She leaned toward him.

He fed her his first question. “When was the last time you saw Elliot?”

Lissa rolled her eyes. “It’s been at least a couple of months.”

“Where did you see him?” Marina interjected.

Lissa made eye contact with Reed. “I met him at the Hartford Hotel. He was good and it was his favorite place to screw, you know. He paid the staff and they gave him his privacy. I just got tired of being second and third on his list of women. That man was doing me, little Miss Dansinger and whoever else he could get. He couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Reed made notes in his little black notebook. “Do you know the names of any of the other women?”

Lissa shrugged. “Except for Jade, I didn’t care.”

“Some of his friends thought you were stalking him,” Marina said.

“And they’re lying asses,” Lissa countered shrilly. “Elliot asked me to meet him.”

Reed studied her, trying to look past her innocent expression to see if she had the will to kill Elliot. He knew she was lying. He held up a file. “I have a copy of a police report he filed, accusing you of stalking him.”

“That was before he realized that Jade wasn’t nearly enough woman for him,” Lissa snapped. “He came to me and begged for it, begged me to come back. It was the best sex we ever had.”

“Where have you been the past few days?” Reed asked.

“I was in Detroit, checking on my mother. I wasn’t even in town when he got killed and I can prove it. I’ve got the ticket stubs.”

Marina’s voice was cool and professional. “We’ll need to see those and we’ll also need your mother’s name, address and phone number so we can check your alibi.”

Lissa’s eyes widened momentarily, as if she was a little intimidated. “I’ll get it for you,” she promised Reed.

He went to the next question on his list. “Did you ever see Elliott with a man named Colton Edwards? Or Aubrey Russell?”

Lissa shrugged again. “I don’t know. They could have been the guys in that stupid fraternity Elliott used to belong to.”

Reed’s glance shot up from his notebook. He sensed that this was the break he and Marina had been looking for. “What was the name of his fraternity?”

Sucking her bottom lip, Lissa tilted her head. “Alpha Kappa Epsilon? I think that was it.”

Reed’s pen sped up. “Did you ever meet any of Elliot’s frat brothers?”

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Lissa put her back on the armrest. “No. He didn’t want to share me with them. Isn’t that a laugh?”

Before Reed could answer they heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Lissa seemed to grow smaller as she lowered her legs to the floor to sit primly on the other end of the couch.

The atmosphere in the room changed drastically. The man who opened the door was built like a wrestler with a short, powerful body and pugnacious face topped with glossy black curls. “Lissa,” he said, taking in her scantily clad form, “why you sitting around guests in your underwear? What are trying to do, huh? Give the man a heart attack?”

“Relax, Tony,” she snapped. “They’re cops. They came to ask questions about Elliot.”

Tony slammed the door shut with an air of barely controlled anger. His wary gazed flicked over Reed and Marina, lingering longer over Marina’s breasts and finally her face. “You two got a warrant?”

“No.” Marina’s tone implied that it wasn’t a problem.

Tony gave off powerful waves of suppressed violence as he flicked a thumb at the door. “No warrant, then get out.”

Sizing the other man up, Reed spoke. “Tony, chill. We need to see Lissa’s airline ticket stubs and proof that she was in Detroit when Elliot Washington was killed or we’ll be taking her downtown with us.” He didn’t know how much control Tony had over himself, but he wasn’t taking any chances. His hand was close to the gun he wore strapped at his waist, just beneath his suit jacket.

Lissa scrambled to her feet. “I’ll get those stubs for you,” she said, hurrying into the back.

Tony approached Reed, his eyes sparking with aggravation. “I don’t know why you come here bothering Lissa about that bum. She was over him a long time ago.”

Marina stood. “How long have you been with Lissa?”

Tony rotated his shoulders. “About a month or so, why?”

“We need to know where you were the night before last, the night someone killed Elliot Washington. Maybe you decided to take him out of the picture.”

“No. I didn’t have to kill the bum. I already told you. She was over him,” Tony replied angrily, narrowing his eyes.

Marina didn’t argue. She simply waited for the answer to her question with an unwavering expression.

“I was playing poker with the boys from about eight till about two-thirty in the morning. I drank until I passed out.”

“You got someone who can verify that?” Reed asked.

“Yeah, Vince Vanetti.” Tony rattled off a phone number.

Bent on verifying the alibi, Reed whipped out his cell phone and called the number. Identifying himself as a police officer, he asked about Tony and the card game, deliberately giving the wrong day. Vince, the man on the other end hesitated for moment, and corrected him. Tony had been at his house playing cards, passed out and ended up spending the night. Vince promised to come down to the station to sign a statement.

Reed switched off the phone. Lissa had thrown on a robe and was waiting while Marina copied the numbers and information off her airline ticket stubs. Afterward, Lissa gave Marina a slip of paper with her mother’s name and address printed on it.

“You got everything you need from us?” Tony asked, looking as if he’d sat on the sharp edge of a tack.

Reed closed his notebook. “Yeah, but we’ll be back if this stuff doesn’t check out.”

“It will,” Tony stormed. “Now get the hell out of our house.”

Reed stopped in the act of gathering his things to confront Tony. “Hey, you need to watch your language. We’re just doing our jobs and we’ve treated you with respect. We expect the same back. If it’s too hard for you to be civil enough for us to do our jobs here, we can all go down to the station. Understand?”

Tony turned red and his dark brows pulled together like thunderclouds, but his head dipped slightly in acknowledgment.

Reed and Marina made a dignified exit.

“Do you think Lissa did it?” Reed asked as they got into the car.

Marina cinched her seat belt. “No, but before Tony showed up, I was sure she was going to try to get in your underwear. I’m still checking out her alibi. She could have taken a quick flight back here, killed Elliot and gone back to Detroit. If her mother is elderly or sick, how would she know?”

Reed thought back to Lissa’s obvious anger with Elliot. Had it been enough for her to kill? And could she have killed Colton Edwards? He’d seen no signs of recognition in her facial expression. They were looking for a serial killer, but they had to make sure that none of the killer’s supposed victims had died by another hand.

“For a moment there, I thought you were going to pull a gun on Tony,” Marina said as they pulled away from the curb.

Reed kept his eyes on the road as he answered. “For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to.”

Marina stretched and yawned in the seat next to him. “It got pretty tense.”

“And you loved it,” he shot back, enjoying the banter between them and her presence beside him. “If I’d had to draw my gun, you’d have been right there with me.” He glanced away from the road to catch a glimpse of her soft berry-coated lips turning upward in response. Heat went through him like lightning. He’d always been a sucker for that smile. He jerked his gaze back to the road.

He guessed that Marina hadn’t noticed. Her voice was slow and thoughtful. “Let’s pick up the warrant, get something to eat, then head up to Merriwhether. Maybe we can find that frat house.”

Tapping the steering wheel, he said, “We need to check university and fraternity records for each of the victims. I’d bet money on the frat being the link between them.”

“They’re already linked by the fact that they all went to Merriwhether and are pretty close to the same age,” she reminded him. She pulled her wallet from the pocket of her jacket. “How much do you want to bet?”

Reed laughed out loud. “I change my mind. I’ll bet, but let’s not use money. The loser, and that will be you, has to do something for the winner.”

“What do you want, Reed?” she asked, trademark toughness creeping into her tone. “I wouldn’t jump into bed with you if you won the bet.”

Inside Reed froze. She had to go there, didn’t she? He kept his physical reaction to a minimum. “What makes you think that’s what I’d want?” he quipped. He heard her barely audible gasp. It salved the part of him that was still hurting over the way she’d just dropped him for another man.

“Then what do you want?” she asked, trying to read him.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, “but if you don’t want to do it, I’ll settle for this statement, ‘Reed you’re simply the best, even better than me and I simply don’t have the guts to do what you want.’”

Those were fighting words. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lips tighten. Marina didn’t like conceding defeat to anyone.

“Too much for you?” he asked, needling her just a little.

“No. It’s a bet,” she insisted. “I’ve just got to think of something embarrassing that I’d like you to do when you lose. And you will lose.”

Reed started laughing all over again.

Turning her head, Marina pretended to look out the window.

For lunch, they stopped at a little Greek restaurant close to the Merriwhether University campus to eat. The Greek music playing in the background and the easy atmosphere took Reed back to earlier times when they’d hung out in places like this.

Marina sat next to him in the booth, looking comfortable. Reed didn’t buy into the illusion because he felt the weight of her gaze on him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d managed to get her attention this time. Maybe she’d finally realized that she’d made a big mistake. He didn’t ever plan to pursue her again, but pride drove him to prove that she’d welcome him if he tried.

“I’ve got it,” Marina said, flashing him a devilish smile. “How about you doing my laundry for a week if you lose the bet?”

Reed’s mind conjured up several filmy, silky, lacy pieces of sexy lingerie that could reasonably be included in Marina’s laundry. He swallowed hard.

“Gotcha!” Marina burst into laughter.

“Actually, I’d consider you doing my laundry for a week if you lose,” he said, taking some of the sting out of her laughter.

Shaking her head, she finished the last of her salad. “Let’s get going,” she said, gathering her things. “We’ve got a serial killer who’s probably out there getting ready for the next victim.”