Deadly Games Read online

  I got right on it and was able to get the warrant from Judge Holkem. The reports came in on the current case, though, so we had to tend to that first.

  Chris brought all the reports up to us from the autopsy and crime lab. The man’s prints weren’t in AFIS, but his DNA was in CODIS because he was reported missing on March 12th by his parents. He was twenty-year-old Tucker Brown from Webster Groves. He was working as a car mechanic for Ray Unnerstall at Ray’s Garage and Used Cars in Webster Groves and had failed to show up or call into work. After a couple days, Mr. Unnerstall called his home and notified his parents, who’d just assumed he was gallivanting around with his girlfriend, Janine Barber, but she’d not heard from him either, so they filed the missing person’s report and used his toothbrush to collect the DNA sample.

  “I’ll go downstairs and send uniforms to Webster Groves to notify the family and assure them that we are going to be working on this,” Marisol offered and took the parents’ address information with her.

  While she did that, the rest of us began going over the autopsy results with Chris. “He died from internal bleeding, but he suffered major organ damage, sustaining stab wounds to his kidneys and liver. I’m surprised his heart didn’t give out from shock—it would’ve been the better way to die. He wasn’t sodomized, but he was tortured. He has burns on his soles, and as you saw at the body dump, he has broken wrists and legs too. Just like with the first victim, the slashes were made over a period of time, and he was starved. He suffered a world of pain”—he rubbed his temples—“I just can’t imagine someone being this sadistic.”

  “Could he have been in cold storage for very long?” I asked. “He’s been missing for over two months.”

  He nodded. “He could have been in storage for several weeks.”

  “I’m going to see where large coolers or meat lockers can be bought around here and if any had been sold in the last two months,” Eric offered.

  I paced the area between our clusters of desks and thought aloud. “Larissa Ray wasn’t in storage, so he must have taken the full two weeks with her and then dumped her when he took Tamara Boyd, assuming he did. But where and how is he getting them, why dump them so far apart, and of course, what is his motive?”

  “That’s where our job comes in,” Liam stated. “We need to find the connection. We know he has no gender, race, or economic preference, so what is his end game?”

  But where do we even look?

  TEARS STREAMED DOWN her face, and she felt like her legs were rubber. They kept trying to give out, but with her arms restrained above her head, she had to try to stand, or she risked breaking her wrists against the cuffs binding them. She shook from hunger pains, and her head spun as she repeated silent prayers. Her mouth was still taped, and her throat burned from screaming into it. She was thankful that at least he hadn’t raped her. The thought of his vile touch made her dry heave against the tape, and only stomach juice came up. She had no idea what time it was or what day it was. The windows were blocked by shrubs and only let in a crack of light. She heard dripping from somewhere and used the noise to count off minutes until her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. She knew she was going to die. She just hoped it would be over soon.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened with a loud creak that pierced the quiet, and her heart thudded in her chest. Maybe he’d kill her now. Maybe he’d give her the sweet relief she longed for. His heavy footsteps down the groaning stairs echoed off the concrete walls and made the slash in her arm burn worse. She supposed if the blade had gone deeper, she would’ve bled out. She’d be okay with that at this point. It was just a matter of time. If no one heard her screams yesterday, or whenever it was, then no one was coming to save her. She was alone in her hell, and the despair was crushing her heart and soul.

  He loved the look of defeat in her dull eyes. “Did you miss me?” he cackled. “I’m guessing you want some of this refreshing cold water”—he held up a bottle of Aquafina—“I’m sure you’re a little thirsty by now.”

  She nodded with what little strength she had left in her neck.

  “This might sting a little,” he sneered and ripped the tape off her mouth with one quick and hard yank.

  She cried out from the pain and the relief. It was so good to take a deep breath again. She accepted a drink from the cold bottle, sucking the refreshment down her scalding throat. He only gave her two pulls before yanking it away, though.

  “Not too much. I wouldn’t want you to get sick,” he sneered and scooted an empty bucket underneath her. “In case you have to pee.”

  “Please…my arms and legs hurt so bad. Please let me down,” she begged. “I won’t tell anyone if you let me go. I promise not to tell.”

  He chuckled, and the sinister sound made her shake more than she already was. It was a clear no.

  “I think you know I can’t do that yet, but I promise to let you go eventually. I’m just not done with enjoying your company,” he ground out with a malevolent smile. He picked up a knife from his table, and the small crack of light coming down the stairs glinted off it, making it even more threatening. “I’m not going to lie to you; this is going to hurt.”

  “No, dammit!” she screeched. “If you want to kill me, just kill me and get it over with!”

  He wagged his finger at her like he was berating a child. “Ah-ah-ah…we’ll be done when I say we’re done. Now smile for the camera.” Click. Click. He snapped her picture and then raked the tip of the knife down her other forearm while snapping a close-up of her terrified, pain-filled screams.

  He stood back and flipped through the photos on the digital camera. Something was missing. He needed more terror, more pain.

  “Tsk-tsk…I don’t think these will do. Something is lacking on your end, my muse. You need to try harder,” he sniped and approached her.

  He marred her face this time with a scalpel. He began underneath her left eye and made an arc to her chin. Then he stepped back to admire his work. He liked the pain and rage in her eyes, so he took more snapshots. Then he finished off the water bottle and used it to collect her dripping blood.

  “I think this will do for tonight, but I’ll be back down if not. Rest well. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you,” he threatened and climbed back up the stairs.

  He got into his car and drove to his second location. He had someone else to check on.

  WE HAD SPENT all afternoon going over the details of the case and rereading the reports on the victims. The only thing they had in common with each other was that they had crossed paths with a merciless son-of-a-bitch. Serial killers always had something that linked their victims, so what were we missing?

  We called it a day at 5:30, even though we were still stumped, and I was on my way home. When I pulled into my driveway, I realized I needed to go next door to get Duke yet. I put my purse and gun inside the house and then trotted over to Dave’s and rang the bell. Duke barked ferociously until he saw it was me.

  “Tough day?” Dave asked when he saw my drawn expression.

  “Tough case,” I moaned and rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”

  He let me step inside the house, and Duke sat down in front of me and pawed my leg. I sat on the couch and petted him while looking into his big brown eyes.

  “Yes, I saw the news, and it’s just awful. It’s hard to imagine something that horrible in our backyards, even with the high crime rate around here,” he replied. “Do you have any suspects at all?”

  I swung my head. “Not a one. Nothing ties the cases together so far, but of course, I’m not allowed to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation either.”

  “I understand. Well, I have all of Duke’s things together for you”—h
e picked up a large cardboard box—“It’s heavy, so I’ll carry it over for you.”

  I rose from the couch and snapped the dog’s leash on him. “Okay, buddy, let’s go to your new home.”

  As soon as I opened my front door and unhooked the leash, Duke took off running through my small single-floor house to thoroughly sniff everything.

  “He looks like he’s going to be fine,” Dave chuckled. “And I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m heading to the Airforce base in Virginia for a day before deployment.”

  I laughed as Duke buzzed by us again. “I promise to love and care for him dearly. You don’t have anything to worry about with him but take care of yourself over there. Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

  He stretched his arms behind his head and sighed. “I’m going to do my best to be careful. They said to anticipate being gone at least a year, but they said that last time, too, and I was gone for over two years. I got Duke when I returned home because I didn’t expect to be sent back over, and he helped me with the PTSD.”

  Duke stopped running and stood protectively by Dave’s side. I tossed some of his toys around the living room to make it look more like home to him, and he watched me curiously.

  “I have all of his vet paperwork in the box too. He’s three years old, and he’s up-to-date with his shots and whatnot,” Dave told me before bending down to hug his dog goodbye. “You be a good boy for your new mom. I’m really going to miss you. When I get back, we’ll hang out sometime, okay?” He held his hand up, and Duke tapped it with his paw. “High-five…good boy.”

  I gave him a hug and wished him well again before he left. In another time, he would have made a great catch for me.

  Duke whimpered and planted himself in front of the door after Dave left, so I attempted to distract him with his toys. He played for a minute, but he lacked interest for the most part. It broke my heart to see him sad.

  I put leftover roast with veggies in the microwave for my supper while I filled his bowls with food and water. I gave him some of the cold roast I still had left on top of his food to help him relax.

  “You can’t bribe an officer, but I can certainly try to bribe you,” I cooed and scratched him between the ears while he chowed down.

  After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen up while he played with a squeaky toy in the living room. Then I played tug of war with him, using his rope toy, and naturally, he won. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was already 8:00, so I ran a hot bath. He lay on the bath mat, whining softly for his dad, while I soaked. After everything I’d seen in the last two days, it felt good to have the large dog there even though he was sad.

  I double-checked the alarm and doors after his last potty and then climbed into bed. Luckily, I had a fenced yard for him to go out in, and I decided to get a dog door installed as soon as I could to allow him to go out during the day. He curled up on the floor, but I patted the bed until he jumped up and lay next to me.

  “That’s a good boy,” I said soothingly. “Give me cuddles.”

  I closed my eyes, thinking my dreams wouldn’t be as bad tonight, especially since I didn’t do any heavy reading before bed.

  I HEARD ON the local news that there was a wreck on Lindell Boulevard, so I left early to take an alternate route to work. Unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea, so Grand Boulevard was a sea of red brake lights and honking horns. I was five minutes late by the time I reached the third floor at SLCPD.

  “Sorry that I’m late. There was a wreck, and going around it wasn’t easy,” I mumbled to Liam.

  He smiled and assured me, “You’re not the only one. Marisol and Eric aren’t here yet.”

  “Maybe I should’ve used my siren,” I joked, and he chuckled with me. “Any news on the case?”

  He looked up from the papers he had retrieved from the fax machine, and tension was pooled in his eyes. “Possibly so,” he mumbled and sank into his chair. “This is from downstairs. Some blood was found in the parking lot of the Fox Theater, and it matched in CODIS to a missing man from Kirkwood. Thirty-year-old Andrew Adams was reported missing four days ago by his wife, Jane, when he didn’t come home after work. He works in Kirkwood at a butcher shop, and no one there has heard from him either.”

  Marisol and Eric rounded the corner, and they were both out of breath. “The elevator was on the top floor, so we took the stairs,” she explained and noticed our grim expressions. “What did we miss? You two look like someone stole your puppy.”

  Liam told them everything he’d just told me, and we put our heads together, going over the facts we had so far. Our killer had no preferences showing yet. He didn’t care about race, gender, or economic status. He was a sadist, and he appeared to be sticking to the St. Louis region, which likely meant he lived in it.

  “He’s not leaving trace evidence, so he has some degree of education, possibly in forensics. The torture suggests that he kills for pleasure, and it might indicate ties to organized crime, but I don’t think that’s the case. He’s likely white and between twenty-five to forty years old,” I suggested, based on the months of profiling research I’d completed to get the job when it was close to becoming available.

  They all stared at me, and I felt self-conscious as if I’d said something stupid. I crossed my legs and waited for the critique to begin.

  “I think that’s a solid assessment,” Liam stated. “I can see you learned a lot before joining us, and that’s good. It will help with this case.”

  I felt myself blush harder, and I wanted to fan my face. “Thank you. I appreciate your feedback. Now, how do we put it to use, and when can we do the search on Carlos Garcia’s crib?”

  He tapped his pen on his notepad. “Let me answer the second question first. You and Eric can go search his place now. I want you to partner with each of us to learn the dynamic. I’ll stay here with Marisol and work on this Slasher case.”

  “Slasher case, huh? Is that what we’re going to call it?” Marisol inquired with a smirk.

  “Do you have a better name?” he wondered, and she shook her head.

  Eric gestured for me to follow him, so I grabbed the search warrant off my desk as well as my notepad, Glock, and the file folder. It wasn’t my first time serving a warrant, but it was my first murder investigation, and I was chomping at the bit to bring in Garcia.

  Considering Garcia ran with the Bloods, Eric had three patrol cars go with us to help keep the peace. Several men and women scattered as soon as we rolled up on his address, but he stood on the porch with his arms over his chest. He was always so cocky, and I desperately wanted to wipe the smug smile off his scarred face. A few of his boys stayed behind and puffed out their chests as a threat.

  “Wassup, pigs? Why you be rollin’ up in my face?” Carlos asked.

  I showed him the search warrant. “We’re going to take a look around your place and your ride”—I turned to the uniforms nearby—“You two search the Impala, and you two keep an eye on him,” I directed them, and they nodded in affirmation.

  Eric patted him down while two uniforms patted his lackeys down. They were both packing heat, and the weapons were quickly confiscated.

  “Whoa there,” Carlos exclaimed. “You can’t take those. Those belong to us for protection.”

  I smiled smugly at him. “Actually we can since that’s what we’re looking for, and I’m sure you don’t have licenses for conceal and carry. They belong to the evidence department at SLCPD now.”

  He grumbled something incoherent and took a seat by his homies.

  I followed Eric into the dump Carlos called home. It was a run-down two-story clapboard that had to be at least sixty years old. I knew from previous dealings that his grandmother had left it to him in her will
. It smelled like a mixture of booze, cigarettes, sweat, urine, and garbage. I had to cover my mouth with my shirt to keep from gagging, and it looked like Eric was having the same trouble.

  We rummaged through the first floor while two uniforms went upstairs to search. There was a lot of junk to dig through, and I tried to put myself in his shoes. Where would I hide a gun with at least one body on it? I checked in the toilet tank, under the mattresses, and tapped on the walls for hollow hiding spots. They were the same places druggies liked to hide their stashes.

  Eric checked the floorboards for any loose ones and the ratty furniture for hidden pockets. Sure enough, under the floorboard, we found some drug paraphernalia and a 9mm with the serial number filed off. I tucked the gun inside my waistband and bagged the drug-related items, which included a crack pipe and about two ounces of cocaine.

  Just in case there were more guns, we kept looking through the rat hole. In the kitchen, I found another 9mm on top of a cabinet, and then the uniformed officers came down the stairs with several grams of heroin.

  “We didn’t find any weapons, but we found this beauty,” Officer Taniya Ames stated with a smirk.

  Eric looked at me in surprise. “Didn’t the Drug Unit have its eye on him at some point?”

  “Yeah, they always watch the gangs. We brought him in a few times, but someone always took the fall and did his time for him. That’s why I need to tie him to the murder weapon. I’m tired of seeing this piece of shit walk,” I replied.

  After the basement was checked, we were done sweeping the house, and the officers checking his car were finished as well. They hadn’t found anything.

  “That’s okay because we’re bringing them in anyway for these,” I told them and held up the guns and drugs.

  “Those aren’t mine,” Carlos yelped. “They belong to my homies, man.”

  “Tell it to the judge,” I snapped and cuffed him.