Deadly Games Read online

  The items immediately went to the crime lab for testing, and the ballistics on the gun that was under the floorboard matched to the bullet pulled from Latoya Lamarre. Additionally, it had Carlos Garcia’s prints all over it. His DNA was on the crack pipe, so we had him for that, too. I finally got the bastard, and he’d be going away for a long time.

  I volunteered to go tell Latoya’s grandmother the terrific news.

  “Oh my heavens, thank you! I’m so relieved you caught the scum responsible,” she cried in relief. “I’m so glad you all didn’t forget about my poor Toya.

  “We’re happy to be of service, Ma’am,” I assured her and then headed back to the station and the nightmare case we were working on.

  HE LOOKED AT the man with his wrists and ankles chained to the wall and felt smug. The man was bigger and stronger than him, but he’d broken him down into a pile of sobbing nothingness.

  He took several photos of the man’s grief, and that gave him another idea. It was pure genius.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” the man sniveled through tears and blood-filled slobber. “What do you want? I have money, and you can have it if you just let me go.”

  He laughed at his victim. “I don’t want money. I want to see your pain.”

  He set the camera up on the tripod and grabbed the baseball bat from the table. He took a hard swing at the man’s right knee, hearing the bones splinter into tiny shards while one large piece ripped through the flesh. He pressed the remote for the camera and captured the moment. Then he picked up a large knife and plunged it into the man’s stomach several times, taking plenty of photos of the victim’s tortured screams. He plunged the knife into the man’s heart to finish the task and then collected his blood in the same bottle that held the woman’s.

  He unchained the body and drug it to the walk-in cooler. He’d leave it there until he chose the perfect dumping spot. Then he poured bleach onto the floor and mopped up the mess.

  Satisfied, he went upstairs to his studio and got to work on his latest masterpiece, using the photos to guide him. He filled the canvas with anger, denial, grief, pain, agony, and the acceptance of inevitable death before going to Larissa Ray’s funeral. There would definitely be grief there. It was the perfect muse.

  WE WERE APPLAUDED when we got back to the station. Eric gestured to me, though, and told them, “Hey, this is all hers. She’s the one who got the intel. I was just along for the ride.”

  I held up my empty coffee cup in a toast. “To good informants and quick search warrants.”

  They all cheered, “Here-here.”

  “We’ll all have to get a real drink after work to celebrate,” Eric jovially suggested, and it sounded good to everyone.

  “Now, back to the Slasher case,” Liam mumbled. “We didn’t come up with anything new, so we’re still at a stalemate until he kills again or fucks up. We still don’t have any forensic evidence or suspects.”

  I tapped my desk in thought. “Since we don’t know how long he’s been refrigerating bodies, I wonder why he chose now to drop them in our laps.” I looked at the blotter on my desk and doodled to help me concentrate. “Perhaps it has to do with the Fourth of July holiday weekend coming up,” I theorized.

  “But why?” Marisol questioned, and I couldn’t answer…yet.

  I shook my head out of frustration. “I don’t know, but we have only a week to figure it out.” I looked at my watch. It was already 5:45. “I’ll have to have that drink when we finish this case,” I announced and gathered my things up. “I’m going to go home and go over all this tonight.”

  “Me too. No rest for the weary when there’s a crazed killer on the loose,” Liam stated and grabbed his things as well.

  “So, we’ll all work tonight and compare notes in the morning then,” Eric agreed.

  We filed out to the parking lot, and I knew we were wondering the same thing. What fresh hell will greet us tomorrow?

  After a light dinner, I spread my notes out on the dining room table along with some criminal investigation books. Duke wanted to play, so I engaged him in a game of fetch with his tennis ball while I worked. I was relieved that he was adjusting to his new home.

  I wrote down anything I knew that had to be a given. For instance, the killer had to have a quiet secluded place to torture his victims, or someone would have reported the disturbances. Gunshots in the city were so common that they were often ignored, but not the sick shit this man was inflicting on his victims. I printed off a map of St. Louis and the surrounding areas and circled anywhere considered rural. I highlighted Eureka, Wildwood, Ellisville, and Town & Country to start. He also had to have enough room in his home or on his property for a large walk-in cooler. Unfortunately, Eric hadn’t found records of any recent cooler purchases in the St. Louis area, so I jotted down a note to check in Illinois. Hell, for all we knew, he resided in Illinois.

  I considered how he was transporting the bodies to the dump sites. He’d need trunk space or a large vehicle. Possibly, he had tinted windows on his vehicle. Without eyewitnesses, it was difficult to know. We couldn’t even set up roadblocks since we didn’t know where he was coming from. He was, so far, untraceable.

  I thought about how he was kidnapping his victims, especially the men. How was he luring them or taking them by force? Chris’s reports didn’t say anything about taser burns, so he wasn’t using that. Their toxicology screens came back clean, so he wasn’t drugging them either.

  Duke whimpered at my side, so I reached over and petted him between the ears.

  “I know, buddy. It’s getting late, and we should think about going to bed. Go potty for me,” I told him and opened the back door.

  While he was outside, I went online and looked up extra-large dog doors on Petco’s website. They had some in stock, so I purchased one to pick up tomorrow. Of course, I needed someone to help me install it, and since Dave had left already, I thought about asking Eric to help. I heard Duke scratch on the door, so I let him back inside.

  “Momma’s shopping for you,” I cooed to him just as my cell phone rang.

  I expected it to be SLCPD calling with a new case or an update to the current one, so I was surprised to see Justin’s name on the screen. With a sigh, I took the call this time.

  “Yes, Justin?”

  “Hi. I wanted to check up on you. I know about the case you’re working on and how tough it is. You just live for danger, don’t you?” His voice had a hint of teasing in it, but I knew he was serious.

  “You know me. Besides, I’m not undercover, so it’s not so bad,” I replied.

  I felt the tension radiating through the phone, and it gnawed at my stomach. Why was it perfectly fine for men to work in my field, but not women? They were in just as much danger as we were.

  “I suppose,” he finally mumbled. “Anyway, I called to see if I can take you out to dinner.”

  I glanced at the back door as a plan formed. “I’ve got a better idea. I need a dog door installed, so if you want to come over tomorrow night to help me with that, I’ll fix you dinner.”

  “A dog door? You finally got a dog, or are you planning on getting one?” he wondered.

  “I got one. I took my neighbor’s dog because he was deployed again.” I reached over and scratched Duke’s head some more, which came well above my knee when we were both sitting.

  “Hmm…what will you make for me?”

  I giggled softly, “I’ll make you a T-bone steak. I’ll even fix it medium-well for you; although, I still don’t understand how people can eat undercooked meat.”

  Laughing, he asked, “What time do you want me there?”

  I looked down at my notes and told him, “Co
me over at 6:00. That way I’ll have time to pick up the dog door after work.”

  “All right, I’ll be there at 6:00, and I’ll bring the wine,” he stated. “Bye.” He hung up before I could object to the alcohol. He knew wine loosened me up, and I figured it was his ploy.

  I looked down at Duke. “It looks like we’ll be having company tomorrow night, but don’t get attached to him. I’m not taking that road again.”

  I pushed my notes aside and headed to my bedroom with Duke in tow. I checked the alarm clock and turned out the lamplight while he climbed into the bed next to me. I fell asleep with my arm over him. I felt so much safer with him there, and that was more important to me now than ever before. Not only did I have the elusive psycho serial killer we were chasing, but I was probably on the hit list for the Bloods since I arrested Carlos and two of his bangers.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the nightstand where my gun and badge rested, focusing my eyes on the badge.

  “You sure come with strings attached,” I mused aloud.

  AFTER ADDING A few more brush strokes to the canvas, he went down to the cellar to give his new guest a sip of water. He couldn’t have her dying of dehydration; it would spoil his fun. He smiled to himself as he relived the moment they’d met last night. He had found her waiting in the parking lot at the local truck stop. She was what they called a “lot lizard.” She was a hooker looking to give her next ride. He had pretended to be a customer and told her he lived nearby. Then after she had climbed into his vehicle, the chloroform-soaked rag had rendered her unconscious.

  “Good morning, dear,” he said in a sickening-sweet tone. “How did you sleep?”

  The woman’s eyes were stained black from her eye makeup smearing in her tears, so she reminded him of a raccoon. “Did I sleep?” she snarled. “Who the fuck are you?”

  He narrowed his eyes to mere slits. “You can call me John. Get it?”

  She closed her eyes to blacken out his scornful face, but the sound of his approaching footsteps made her open them back up.

  “Okay, I guess you’re not in a joking mood,” he stated. “But I do suppose you’re thirsty, so I brought you a drink.” He held the water up to her mouth, and she sniffed it, causing him to laugh. “Do you think I poisoned it? And if I did, would that be worse than this?” He gestured to the chains holding her against the wall.

  “No, I guess not,” she spat and accepted the water. When he pulled the bottle away, she pleaded, “Please let me go. I’ve not done anything to you. Why are you doing this?”

  He found joy and amusement in her tears, so he took a photo. Then he answered her question. “I’m doing this simply because I can.” He went back to snapping pictures.

  Her expression hardened, but he could still see the fear in her eyes. “Why are you taking photos of me?” she demanded in a threatening tone.

  He cocked his head and set his mouth in a hard line. “It’s for my collage,” he answered with authority in his voice. “However, you’re not cooperating, so I need to correct that.”

  He approached her with a knife he had hidden in his pocket, and she screamed for help. Instead of covering her mouth with the duct tape, he surprised her by matching her volume with his own blood-curdling cries. She stopped her fit immediately.

  “There’s no use, so you might as well save your breath,” he advised her. “You know, if I cut you right here”—he put the tip of his knife to her carotid—“you’d bleed out within minutes, but I’m not going to do that.”

  “Fuck you!” she spat at him and struggled against the chains until her skin was bloody and raw.

  “If you recall, you tried to last night, and it didn’t work then either. You’re not my type,” he remarked. “But I suppose you do have something I want.”

  “What do I have that you want?” she demanded.

  “Blood and pain,” he sneered and sliced through her pants and into her thigh muscle.

  He snapped several photos of her despair. It was like porn for him.

  “I have to go for now, but I’ll be back later to pick up where we left off,” he threatened.

  She yelled a string of obscenities as he climbed up the stairs, and it made him laugh. She definitely had spirit.

  BEFORE I WENT to work on Thursday, I put the T-bone steaks in a pan of sauces and spices to marinate. I had to laugh at Duke because he watched attentively and licked his chops.

  “Don’t worry, buddy. I left a thick steak out just for you,” I promised him.

  I fed him while he did his morning business, and then I kissed him goodbye and left for work.

  Traffic was better than yesterday, so I arrived on time, and so did the others. Eric had the coffees for everyone this time.

  “I’ll bring them in tomorrow, just write down your preferences for me,” I volunteered.

  In unison, they called out, “Black,” and I was relieved. It was difficult to remember all the half-this, one- pump-that combinations offered at Starbucks.

  “Did anybody think of anything new last night?” Eric probed.

  I pulled out my marked maps and told them my thoughts. Funnily, Marisol had done the same thing.

  “Well, we could get in touch with the police departments in those areas and see if they’ll help us search,” Liam offered. “Maybe dogs can sniff around the woods.”

  I also interjected an idea. “We can contact the St. Louis County Assessor's Office and ask the Real Property Division about any homes with outbuildings large enough to hold a walk-in cooler or special permits to build attached ones onto the home.”

  “Excellent idea,” the lieutenant called out from behind me. “I’m glad to see you are all finding ways to track this perp. Hopefully, we’ll have him in custody soon.”

  I tucked my dark hair behind my ear while I chewed on his words. “What if it’s not a man? What if it’s a strong woman? That might explain the lack of sexual assault, and also how the perp is abducting men. She might not even have to be big or strong if she uses something to overpower them.”

  Eric cocked his head at me, and I could see his wheels turning. “But the tox screens came back clean, and there aren’t any wounds to suggest a taser was used, so how else could she subdue them?”

  “Chloroform would work,” I suggested, “and you have to be specifically looking for it.”

  Marisol picked up her desk phone and began dialing. “I’m calling Chris to have him check the male victim if the body is still here.”

  We all waited quietly for her to finish the call. She didn’t look pleased. “Damn. Tucker Brown has already been released to the funeral home.”

  I tried to stay positive and told them, “Well, now he knows to check for it. He should also check for scopolamine next time.” I jotted a note down on my blotter so I wouldn’t forget to ask. Next time? I knew there would be one.

  We spent the day searching through the records we retrieved from the St Louis County Assessor's Office, and there were a lot of them. Several residents in the rural areas we were primarily focused on had outbuildings or special permits for attached structures, which came as a surprise to me. It didn’t mean they were for walk-in coolers, though, so the police were going to have to knock on doors. We were going to have to knock on doors as well, but not today. It was quitting time.

  I went straight to Petco and picked up my dog door and then headed home. Justin was already parked along the curb even though I was a few minutes early.

  “Here, let me get that for you,” he offered and took hold of the large box.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled and got the door for us. It was hard not to laugh when Duke almost knocked him over.

  “Damn,
that’s a big dog!” he yelped. “What kind is he?”

  I told Duke to sit, which he did, and answered, “He’s a Belgian Malinois and a very good boy.”

  Justin eyed my pet suspiciously. “I’ll take your word for it. I don’t care much for big dogs.” He gestured toward my kitchen. “Do you have the tools I need? If not, I brought a set.”

  I opened my hall closet and drug out my single woman’s toolkit and drill. “This should work.”

  “Really?” he joked when he accepted the lightweight box. “This is your go-to toolkit?”

  I put my hands on my hips and stuck my chin out. “I’ve never needed anything more.”

  He laughed at me and walked into the kitchen while shaking his head. He set the box down, examined the door, and then walked back toward the living room.

  “I need to get a reciprocating saw out of my car,” he announced.

  While he did that, I started supper. I was going to fix a tossed salad, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob as our side dishes. I added another coat of marinade to the steaks and put them in the oven to broil, making sure to set the timer, so I would get his out before it turned well-done.

  He came back in, and Duke jumped up from the kitchen floor to check things out. I assumed he recognized Justin’s cologne since he didn’t bark or growl.

  “Your butler let me in,” Justin teased.

  I winked at him. “You’re lucky. He normally asks for a cover charge.” I noticed the saw in his right hand and a bottle of Chardonnay in his left. Shit. I thought he forgot about it.

  He took the door off its hinges, carried it out to the backyard, and started working on it until I called him in for dinner. I set the third steak aside to cool off for Duke, and Justin noticed.

  “Are you eating two steaks? I don’t think I’ll have room for seconds,” Justin chuckled and patted his stomach.