Deadly Games Read online

  I grabbed a baked good from the vending machine to eat at my desk while I combed over my notes. I drew circles on a piece of paper with the names of the victims split up one to a circle. I listed what had happened to each victim in their final hours within the circle and then marked the common denominators. I also listed their personal information, and there still wasn’t anything overlapping. He had to be choosing them at random.

  My desk phone rang and made me jump in my chair. “Detective Delossa,” I answered. There was only the sound of heavy breathing on the other end, so I repeated myself.

  “I read about you in the paper, detective. How are you enjoying your promotion?” The voice on the other end was deep and muffled.

  “I’m enjoying it just fine. Can I help you with something?” I asked while still working on my notes.

  “I also read about the arrest you made recently. I bet there are a lot of pissed off gang members out looking for you,” the man continued. “What I want to know, however, is if you’re so smart, why can’t you find me?” He laughed and then hung up before I could utter another word.

  I put the phone back in the cradle and stared at it while my body trembled. Clearly, our killer is not only smart, he is also into mind games.

  Marisol sat down in her chair and stared at me. “What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost,” she observed.

  “He called me,” I stated without looking at her. “The killer just called me.” I looked up, and her eyes were bulging just like mine were.

  Eric overheard me and rushed to my desk and asked, “What did he say to you?”

  I repeated what the killer had told me just as Liam rounded the corner. “What happened?” he wondered, and I explained once more.

  “Shit! He’s taunting us. He is dropping bodies on our doorstep like a proud cat with mice, and he wants to brag about it,” Liam shouted.

  I stood up and paced the room. “Reaching out is just part of his narcissism, and I’m sure he’ll do it again.”

  “But why you? Why did he contact you directly?” Eric inquired, and the question was valid and something I was already considering.

  I rubbed my neck. “He said he read that article on my promotion in the paper, and he also read about us arresting Garcia. I suppose, though, he’s trying to test the new girl.” I laughed nervously. “I have to admit that it worked.”

  “It worked on us all,” Eric mumbled. “What affects you affects the whole team.”

  Jackie approached us with a photo in hand. “I’ve finished with the surveillance footage, and this is the only person fetching a wheelchair. It’s timestamped 10:28 last night”—she flipped the photo around for us—“With his hat pulled down, though, we can’t see his face in any of the footage.”

  “He was deliberately avoiding the cameras, and no one walked past him either. It was from a more secluded entrance, wasn’t it?” I questioned.

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s from the side entrance that’s around the corner from the ER.”

  Liam took the photo from her and thanked her for bringing it up to us. “He looks to be around six feet tall, but he could be hunching over. At least we know he’s white with brown hair and has an average build. That’s a start.”

  Marisol rolled her eyes. “It’s still not much, but I suppose it’s more than we had, so we should be glad about that.”

  I was only half-listening because my mind had drifted elsewhere. Is he watching me too?

  I drove straight home and kept my cop eye out for any vehicles that might be following me. I parked in my garage as opposed to the driveway like I normally did. Even if he wasn’t watching me, the Bloods might be. My address and phone number were unlisted, but still, criminals had a way.

  Duke barked with a low growl at the door that led from the garage into my kitchen. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just me,” I called out, and he began whimpering. I unlocked the door and punched in my alarm code on the keypad. “There’s my good boy,” I said softly and petted him.

  He followed me through the house as I put my purse and badge on the nightstand in the bedroom. I almost set my Glock down, too, but then I thought better of it. I kept it tucked in its holster on my hip and kicked off my standard issue cop boots. I changed out of my required blue shirt and slacks and threw them in the washer before feeding Duke and working on my own dinner.

  I looked at him while I ate my spaghetti. He was sitting protectively next to my chair, so I tossed him a meatball.

  “I just don’t know about this case,” I mumbled. “I wish you were a police dog at times like this. Maybe you could see something we aren’t.”

  Justin called while I was loading the dishwasher. He said he hoped we could get together again, and I moaned to myself.

  “I don’t know, Justin,” I sighed. “Nothing has changed between us. You—”

  He interrupted, “Yes it has. I had a problem with you being undercover, not with you being a cop. You aren’t going to be undercover anymore, so everything has changed.”

  I flopped on the sofa with a grunt. “I don’t know. Last night was kind of nice, but I’m too wrapped up in work right now to consider anything else. After this case is over, then maybe…”

  “But then there will be another case, so is that going to be your excuse then too?” he asked, and I heard the frustration in his voice.

  “Yes, there will always be another case. What that means for you and me, well, I don’t know,” I professed. “I can’t make any promises.”

  There was an awkward silence before he told me he had to go and hung up. I blew out a rush of air and rubbed my eyes.

  “Duke, I’m so glad you’re not a complicated man,” I moaned and stroked his back.

  He looked up at me with love in his eyes before flopping down, so his belly was exposed. I gave him a good scratching and then took a relaxing bath before bed. I’d brought my files home, but I couldn’t deal with any more horror today.

  HE PACED THE floorboards of his studio. It was the smaller of the two he had, but he liked it all the same. He just couldn’t concentrate on his work because the curator had dismissed his talents…again. He’d teach her a lesson—that was a given. First, though, he had to make room or, at the very least, install more chains. With a smile, he went to his garage and gathered supplies. Then he went to the basement to check on his guest.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked her with mock politeness.

  “Yes.” Her voice was so scratchy he could hardly understand her, and she was too weak to nod.

  “Here, drink this. It will make you less hungry.” He held a straw to her mouth that was stuck inside a meal replacement shake, and she quickly sucked it all down until he heard the slurping of air. He pulled it away saying, “See? I’m not that cruel.”

  “Then please just let me go,” she wept for the hundredth time. “I have a child, and he needs me.”

  He cocked his head at her. “I could let you go if I wanted to, but I’ve had a rough day today, so I need the company. Misery loves company, right? Do you know what my father did to me when he had a rough day?”

  Tears trickled down her dark, hollow cheeks. “Was he mean to you?”

  He laughed in response and told her, “Mean? He was a monster. He’d beat me with his belt until I had whelps all over my body. Then”—he held up his palm for her—“he’d place my hand on the hot stove just for the hell of it.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

  He stepped closer, assessing her current pitiful condition. “That’s what my mother used to say too. She’d tell me how sorry she was, but she never did anything to stop him.” He grabbed her jaw and made her stare into his eyes. “Don�
��t worry, my pet. I’m not going to slap you around like he did me, and I won’t put your hand to the stove either. However, I can’t let you go. No one was around to witness my pain, but the whole world is going to see yours.” He reached out with the knife and sliced her across the abdomen. Over her screams, he told her, “If I’d cut any deeper, your guts would be hanging out. You’re welcome.” He held the camera up. Click. Click.

  With a low chuckle, he walked to the opposite wall and began pounding a new set of chains into the concrete. The noise was deafening and almost drowned her screams out. He yanked on the cuffs to ensure their strength and then turned back to his victim.

  “You’re going to have company soon, so do be sure to hang on. You don’t want to miss it.” He laughed again and headed back up the stairs to paint while he had the inspiration.

  I STILL WOKE up at 6:00 on Saturday even though I had the day off work. We were all on call over the weekend, however, and I’d be working on my notes too. I’m sure the rest of the team would be doing the same.

  Before it warmed up more, I put on a T-shirt and shorts and took Duke for an early morning jog around the neighborhood. Actually, he took me for a jog since the massive dog pulled on the leash in his excitement to be out running. I knew Dave used to go running with him, but he didn’t keep him on the leash. I was just afraid Duke would take off to go look for his former daddy. After a quarter-mile, however, I gave up and unclasped him. He surprised me when he stayed faithfully by my side.

  We were on the last stretch toward home when a car heading toward us slowed down. We were at least a half-mile from the house yet, and of course, I didn’t have my gun. I wouldn’t have cared, but the men inside the car looked like they were up to no good. The car came to a stop, and the passengers began making lude catcalls while the driver opened his door. Before he could climb out, though, Duke charged the car and jumped on the hood to stare him down with a ferocious growl. The driver closed the door and honked the car horn, but Duke held his stance.

  “Damn bitch, call off your dog!” one of the passengers yelled out the window.

  With a smile, I approached the car on the driver’s side. “It’s awfully early for you boys to be stinking up the neighborhood, don’t you think?”

  The driver looked down, and I prepared myself in case he drew a gun. “Get your dog, lady, and we’ll be on our way,” he grumbled.

  “Be sure that you are,” I told him, and then I whistled for Duke to follow me.

  I made sure they were no longer around before I went home. I certainly didn’t need the thugs to know where I reside. After a quick shower, I fixed sausage and eggs for breakfast and fed half to Duke.

  “Who’s Momma’s tough and protective boy?” I cooed while scratching his head. “You did a great job, but I think I’ll carry my Glock next time too.” I laughed to myself. Were you packing heat? No, I was packing fur.

  After I cleaned up the breakfast mess, I kept going and cleaned the whole house. Soon, it was early afternoon, and I was left with nothing else to do, so I tackled the files on my coffee table while I had the movie Copycat on in the background for inspiration.

  “Is that what you’re after too, dickhead? Are you seeking fame in the media?” I questioned aloud.

  I went over everything, trying to find a common denominator, but I came up empty. Not even the hair or eye color of the victims matched, so he clearly didn’t have a type he was looking for, which struck me as unusual. If he was committing these heinous murders strictly at random, he had to have a lot of rage bottled up, and I wondered why. Normally, the victims had common traits because they served as surrogates for the real target of the killer’s rage, but this man seemed to hate everyone. I considered the possibility that he was a former soldier who had been at war and suffered from PTSD. It seemed likely that he’d witnessed torture firsthand. Given the lack of evidence at the crime scenes, I also considered the possibility that he currently was or had been a member of law enforcement. I jotted my thoughts down into lists of why each scenario made sense, and both options churned my stomach. I certainly didn’t want to find out that a former hero had become a villain.

  I was ready to take a break for a while when my cell phone rang. I grimaced before peeking at the display, expecting it to be the station, but it was my younger sister Denise. She was going into the criminal justice field too. She was studying law.

  “Well, I’ve not heard from you in forever,” I greeted her.

  “You know the phone works both ways, right?” she teased. “Actually, I wanted to give you time to settle into your new position, but I see the ride has been bumpy.”

  I nodded on my end. “Yeah, it sure has been,” I sighed. “How’s school going?”

  “It’s fine, but I’m taking the summer off for a change,” she informed me. “What can you tell me about this case you’re on?”

  I rolled my eyes. She was always inquisitive, which made her a strong student. “You know I can’t discuss the particulars of an ongoing investigation,” I groaned.

  “I know, but I’m going to be a prosecutor someday,” she reminded me.

  “Well, when that day arrives, then we’ll talk.” I laughed because I could picture her pouting.

  We discussed how our parents were doing, the guy she was involved with, and I told her about Duke. She asked me if I was still seeing Justin, and I almost disclosed that we’d had dinner together the other night, but I couldn’t handle her reaction. She’d always told me I sold him short and should’ve tried harder to make it work. I, in turn, accused her of being prejudiced since he’s the ADA. We chatted until her call waiting beeped.

  “It’s Marcus calling, so I need to go, but let’s get together soon,” she suggested, and I agreed.

  I went into the kitchen to make a pitcher of iced tea. It was going to be in the upper nineties today, and I was already feeling it. I turned the thermostat down to seventy-three and sat back on the sofa with my tea and my dog to finish watching the movie.

  “You know, Duke, if my life were like TV, I would’ve already caught the guy,” I mumbled before curling up into a ball and falling asleep.

  I was running through darkened alleys in the city in pursuit of a suspect. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I knew it was him. I was close and getting closer when I tripped over something and fell to the ground. I looked at the obstacle, and it was a dead body with multiple slash wounds. I felt for a pulse, but there wasn’t even a faint heartbeat. I heard laughter in the distance, so I picked myself up and took off again.

  As I neared the end of the alley, my view of cars zooming by was quickly blocked by the outline of several individuals, and I recognized the colors they wore—it was the Bloods gang. They drew their weapons, so I drew mine, but when I fired a warning shot, the gun jammed. I was as defenseless as a cat toy.

  I turned back, but the dead woman had risen and was heading toward me.

  “Why can’t you catch him? I wouldn’t have died if only you’d caught him,” she moaned and had her arms out to strangle me.

  Duke barked and made me jump upright on the couch. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I was glad he woke me up from the nightmare. I supposed, doing what I do, I could expect many more bad dreams to come—especially during this case. I took several deep breaths until my pulse returned to normal. Then I got up and got ready to go do my grocery shopping. I needed to take advantage of my time off while I still had it.

  HE SCROLLED THROUGH all the photos and chose the ones with the most suffering to be his muse. Then he painted his dark thoughts on the pure white canvas until it looked like something from a horror movie or a bad dream. He stepped back to examine his progress and felt like something was missing. It had plenty of fear, but it needed more pain. He grabbed t
he camera and went to the cellar.

  The hooker yanked against her chains, cursing him all the while. “You can’t keep me here forever, you piece of shit!” she spat. “Do you fucking hear me? I hope you burn in hell!”

  He calmly approached her with the large knife, but something she said caught his attention and gave him an idea—a superbly morbid idea.

  “Thank you,” he told her and walked off toward the attached garage.

  Moments later, he stood before her with a container of paint thinner, a large paint brush, a plastic funnel, and a pair of rubber gloves.

  Her eyes bulged out of their sockets, and she demanded, “What is that? What are you doing?”

  With a sadistic smile, he donned the gloves. “You have given me a wonderful idea,” he growled while setting the tripod up. “And to answer your question, since I’m in a good mood, this is paint thinner.”

  “What for?” she shrieked. “What are you going to do to me?”

  He smiled again and approached her while whispering, “I’m going to take ten years off your face with a chemical peel. You’re welcome.”

  She thrashed against the cuffs so hard that her wrists broke. The snapping sound of bone and her screams accompanying it made him light up much like his father had done during one of his many beatings. He poured enough thinner onto the paint brush to saturate it before sweeping it across her face. Her screams bounced off the walls while her skin turned scalding-red and began to blister. He took several photos to capture the magnificent moment.

  Her body went into convulsions, causing her head to bang relentlessly against the concrete wall while her eyes rolled back. He didn’t want her to knock herself out or worse. That’s not the ending he desired. He scrambled to grab the funnel, forced it into her mouth past her writhing tongue, and then poured in the lethal chemical. Foam came up her throat, spilling past her lips and making her look like a rabid animal. He took photos until her body ceased its twitching.