Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

  “And you know this because...”

  “There’s no blood on the clothes,” Greg said before Russell could.

  “Exactly,” Russell said. “This woman bled a lot. But there’s not a drop on the clothes. At least not enough to seep through. But from the location of a few of the deeper cuts, she had some gushers. Her clothes would have been saturated. The mouth wounds alone would have drenched her front.”

  “So she was naked. Why dress her again?” Voegler asked.

  “Personal respect for the victim.” Greg said. “Make sure we know this isn’t sexual. The controlled stab wounds, chopping out her mouth, kidnapping and holding her, it’s very calculated. Dressing her fits somehow.”

  “How?” Voegler asked.

  “And therein lies the million dollar question.” Russell pointed at them with a scalpel. Greg took an involuntary step back while Voegler flinched.

  Russell was a little scary. Which, considering her job, wasn't too surprising.

  “Fortunately, that’s your job, not mine. Let's take off her clothes, see what’s underneath.” Russell removed the shirt and bra and put them in an evidence bag, which she put with the rest of the collected evidence. The dead woman’s breasts revealed more of the same knife wounds as the rest of her body.

  “These look shallow,” Russell said. “Most of the serious damage was done down here.” She ran a finger over the deep gashes on the lower abdomen.

  Greg and Voegler stepped out of the way so Russell could remove the shorts. Greg watched as Karen Schreiber’s genitals came into view.

  “Holy shit.” Voegler moved next to Russell, nudging her to the side. “What the fuck?”

  That pretty much summed up Greg’s reaction.

  Like her face, Karen Schreiber’s genitals had been mutilated.

  Chapter 8

  “There goes the theory it wasn’t sexual,” Greg mumbled. The skin and hair between Karen's legs had been hacked away, leaving raw, exposed flesh.

  “Why did he do this, then dress her afterward?” Voegler asked.

  Russell bent closer to the vaginal region. “She was raped by something sharp. See how she’s all torn up here?”

  Greg walked around the table and came up on Russell’s other side. The three of them examined the torn up flesh at the dead woman’s vaginal opening.

  “Looks like he used his knife, or a broken bottle.” Greg tried to ignore the churning in his stomach. The dead body, the dried blood and the exposed flesh didn’t bother him. He had plenty of experience with that.

  But the depravity of violating a woman with broken glass or another equally destructive object sickened him. Enraged him. How did a human being get to the point where they wanted to do this to another person?

  “I’ll do a rape kit and see what I can find.” Russell sighed as she straightened.

  “No, he used wood,” Voegler said, still studying the wounds. “There’s a splinter.”

  Sure enough, a shard of wood poked out of the raw flesh.

  Greg closed his eyes, trying to quiet all the questions whirling in his head. He had to stay focused on the autopsy. He could hammer out theories later. “This case just got a whole lot more fun.”

  Voegler snorted. “Welcome to Homicide.”

  Greg rolled his chair to Amanda’s desk. “You ready to call it a day, Detective Schreiber?”

  She looked up from the paper she was reading. “I, uh...soon.”

  As long and frustrating as his day had been, Greg couldn’t help smiling at her. She had that effect on him. Part of him felt like he’d never stop smiling when she was around. How disgustingly corny.

  “Care to join me for dinner?” It was after 7:00 and his stomach started growling at least an hour ago. But he didn’t want to go home and eat takeout alone.

  She looked down at her paperwork, then back up at him. “I can’t. I’m supposed to go to my dad’s. To discuss things. About the funeral.”

  He tried not to be disappointed. He’d hoped maybe they could make an evening of it. Spend time getting to know each other.

  Anything to keep him from having to go back to his empty house where he’d start thinking about her losing a family member. Which would lead to thinking about Phil.

  “I wouldn’t want to keep you from family stuff.” Greg pushed his chair back toward his desk.

  She closed her file folder. “Sorry. You don't mess with Emily about schedules.”

  “Another time then.” Maybe Dave was free. They could get a burger and a beer, watch the Brewers game.

  “I’ll make sure my dad comes down to talk to you and Al tomorrow. It was hard for him today. Finding out about Karen’s affair.” She stared at her desk, her expression unreadable.

  If only he knew what she was thinking. Knew how to make things less complicated and painful. But nothing could do that. “We talked to her boyfriend.”

  Her eyebrows raised.

  “He was teaching a class when she disappeared and was in a deposition all day yesterday, which covers her time of death. And he was at a charity dinner during the time we think she was dumped.” Greg had hoped it was the boyfriend. In the long run, that would’ve been easier for Amanda and her family. But besides having solid alibis, Derek Townsley didn’t fit the rest of the facts.

  “So it wasn’t him.”

  “Nope.”

  She closed her eyes for a long moment. Opened them. Stood.

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she came over to his desk. “I wish I could join you for dinner. I could use...” She inhaled deeply, let it out slowly. “I could use a distraction.”

  “I’m a distraction, huh?” Greg smiled as he stood and gestured for her to precede him toward the door. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She chuckled as they headed for the elevator.

  That he could make her laugh on such a grim day he also took as a compliment. Too bad he had something to tell her that would erase her smile. "Voegler and I watched the surveillance video from the parking garage."

  She didn't look at him as she pushed the down button. "Yeah?"

  He'd promised to keep her in the loop. He hadn't promised she would like what he found. "Her car was in the garage, suitcase still in it. On the video, your dad's car pulls up, she talks to the driver, then gets in and they drive away."

  Long silence stretched between them. Greg held his breath, tension knotting his muscles as he waited for her response. Her face remained neutral.

  The ding of the elevator was so loud in the silent hallway it made his pulse jump. Amanda's expression jolted. She pressed her fist into her stomach as they boarded the elevator.

  The tension followed them and the doors closed, trapping it with them. He watched her, waiting for a reaction.

  "The driver. So you didn't see my dad's face."

  "No. But it's his car, his plates." Voegler had the same reaction. Insisted it wasn't proof Charlie Schreiber was their guy.

  Was it strong enough evidence to hold up in court? No. But was it a good start? Of course. Did it make the jilted husband look like a damn good primary suspect? Hell yes. Was Greg the only one with enough distance to see that? Apparently.

  The elevator doors slid open. She stepped out and started across the lobby, setting a rapid pace. Clearly trying to get away from him.

  "Let me know when you have something solid. Until then, good night, Cole."

  To say the atmosphere in the house was tense would have been a gross understatement. Such a huge understatement it could have been in the Guinness Book of World Records for Biggest Understatement Ever. Even Rocky, lying in the corner and watching everyone warily, seemed to know something was wrong.

  “How are we supposed to notify people about the funeral when we don’t even know when we get her...” Emily’s voice trailed off. She stared down at the yellow legal pad in front of her on the dining room table.

  “When are they going to be done?” Dad looked at Amanda.

  Wasn’t there a way she could b
e around Dad without seeing the pain in his eyes? It pulsed in the air around him. She didn’t believe in auras, but she imagined his would be bright with whatever color represented soul-deep grief.

  They had to find out who did this to him.

  “I don’t know.” Amanda put as much compassion as possible in her voice. “It’s different with every case. They did the autopsy today, but the coroner might have more tests to run before she’s ready to release the body.” It felt weird to refer to Karen as the body. Amanda still hadn’t absorbed that Karen wouldn’t be walking in at any moment and making a snarky comment to her stepchildren.

  “Once again, you’re a big help,” Hank muttered.

  And he was so useful. Amanda didn’t dignify his comment with a response.

  “Can’t we make all the arrangements and let the funeral home know later when we want the service?” Amanda asked. “We can still pick a casket and music for the service and pallbearers and stuff.”

  “Oh, right, like they’re going to sit there on pins and needles, waiting,” Emily snapped.

  Irritation flickered in Amanda’s gut, hot and acidic. Sure, things were tense, but Emily didn’t have to get nasty. “It’s not like Karen’s the first person to have an autopsy. Funeral homes have dealt with this before.”

  “So we have to go to some place in the ghetto, where this happens every day?” Hank said. “Thanks, but we’ll skip the gang banger funeral parlors.”

  Amanda sucked in a long breath so she wouldn’t yell. “I’ve worked cases in every part of this city. So go be a racist asshole somewhere else.”

  “All three of you, knock it off.” Dad sent a stern look at each of them in turn. “We’re a family here. We need to lean on each other, help each other. Not fight. This is hard for all of us.”

  Hank glared at Amanda, clearly telling her that he didn’t believe for one second the situation was hard for her.

  He was so ignorant.

  A low woof from the corner diverted Amanda's attention. Rocky raised his head and looked toward the hallway. A moment later the side door opened.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late!” Todd called, followed by the sound of the door closing.

  “We’re in the dining room,” Emily called back.

  “So glad he could grace us with his presence,” Hank mumbled, low enough Amanda barely heard.

  Todd appeared, still wearing his blue hospital scrubs. “Sorry ‘bout that. We had a trauma come in and I couldn’t get out of there.”

  He and Dad shared a manly handshake-hug before Todd took the empty chair next to Amanda. “How you holdin’ up? This must be a tough case for you.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  The brief massage felt so good on her tense muscles, she nearly purred. Instead, she held Todd’s gaze for a minute, then looked around the rest of the table. “Actually,” she said, bracing herself for their reactions. She had no idea what those would be. “I’m not on this case anymore. I can’t exactly be impartial, so the captain took me off and reassigned it to another detective.”

  “At least we’ll have someone competent on it now,” Hank said, again soft enough so only Amanda could hear.

  And apparently Todd, who shot a nasty glance at their brother.

  “Why would they take you off the case?” Dad's frown looked more angry than confused or curious. “Who better to investigate this than someone who knew her? Someone close to her?”

  Amanda wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d been close to Karen. But she definitely knew the woman. Knew every black inch of her Wicked Stepmother soul.

  “I want the best there is on this case. That’s you.” Dad’s brown eyes flashed.

  Emily put her hand on his arm. “Daddy, calm down.”

  “I know I said I’d find whoever did this. And I’m sorry my boss took me off the case.” He had no idea how sorry. “But it would be the first thing the defense attorney jumped on when this gets to court. They’d say the investigation was tainted because I wasn’t impartial. And they’d be right.”

  “So who is doing the investigation?” Dad bit out through a tight jaw. “I saw you here this morning.”

  “I got reassigned after we got back.” Why was Dad so upset about this? It didn’t seem right.

  Unless he had something to hide. Something he assumed she would hide for him.

  Anger flushed through her, hot and cold at the same time. How could she think something so disloyal about her father? His reaction earlier proved he’d known nothing about Karen’s affair.

  Even if he had known about the affair, Charlie Schreiber was no killer. He would have begged Karen to leave her boy-toy, begged her to work on strengthening their marriage. The same way he’d done with Amanda’s mother.

  Right before she walked out on them forever.

  Shoving away thoughts she had no business thinking, Amanda met her father’s distressed gaze. “Al’s still on the case. You know he’s a good detective. He’s taught me most of what I know. And he’s working with another detective named Greg Cole. They’re both very good.”

  Damn Greg for making her question her dad. Someone else had used Dad's car; it was the only explanation.

  “I don’t like the idea of other people digging into our lives,” Dad said.

  “I know you don’t.” Amanda held in a sigh and rubbed her eyes. She thought she’d been tired last night, but that was nothing compared to the weight of the physical and emotional exhaustion crushing her now. “But it’s going to happen anyway.”

  "So who did it?" Hank asked. "I assume this is a priority case, given how important you are."

  Amanda clenched her jaw to hold back the anger and sarcasm she wanted to spew at her brother. "I don't know who did it." For Dad, she would remain civil.

  "But you're so important. They took you off the case to protect you because you can't handle it. And they gave it to people you say are so good. So why isn't it solved yet?" Hank's tone and expression took on the taunting of their childhood.

  Oh, how she didn't miss interacting with him on a regular basis.

  "I never said I can't handle it." She might not be able to handle, however, not leaping across the table and strangling him. Smug ass hole. "I said it's department policy not to work on cases involving family because it's a conflict of interest."

  "So you say."

  "Stop being a dick." Todd's voice held a quiet menace that surprised Amanda. When had he developed this outward disdain for their brother?

  She tried not to gape at Todd as his dark eyes narrowed on Hank. What the hell was going on here? She put her hand on Todd's arm. The muscles were tense, poised for action.

  Dad angry. Todd making threats. Her life just kept getting more surreal.

  "Fuck off." Hank sat up straighter and set his shoulders.

  What, now they were going to rumble on the dining room table?

  "Both of you, knock it off." Dad shot stern looks between his sons. "You're adults. Act like it."

  Heavy, uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Trying to push all thoughts from her head, Amanda watched Emily doodle on the notepad.

  Finally Emily looked up. “This still doesn’t get us anywhere with the funeral arrangements.”

  “Christ, Emily. Let it go. We can’t make the arrangements right now. Drop it!” Dad shoved back from the table and stormed from the room. All four of his children stared after him. Dad never lost his temper.

  Amanda and Hank both started to rise at the same time. “Sit,” Amanda snapped at him. Fortunately, she was closer to the door and was able to follow Dad faster than Hank. She heard the jangle of Rocky’s collar behind her.

  Amanda found Dad in his den, sitting in his chair, a picture frame in his hand. Rocky immediately went to him and Dad absently petted the dog with his free hand. The picture was of him and Karen at the Great Wall of China last spring.

  “I thought we were happy.” He didn't look up. “I thought she was happy.”

  Now knowing what to say, she sat on the ottoman. Happy wom
en didn’t cheat on their husbands. But Karen had probably never been happy. Happy women also didn’t verbally abuse their step-children.

  Not that she could say that to Dad.

  “I really didn’t know she had someone else.” When he looked up, tears shone in his eyes.

  The exhaustion gained twenty pounds. “Dad...”

  “How could she do that? How could she tell me she loved me and then share herself with another man?”

  Ten more pounds. “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t...know.” Her intense dislike for Karen grew. It took on the shape and feel of all-out hatred. Amanda didn’t want to harbor such a horrible emotion, but after all Karen did, how could she not?

  “I’m sorry you found out like that.” What a stupid thing to say. As if finding out another way was better.

  She needed to change the subject. “You need to talk to Al and Greg. You might not realize it, but maybe something you tell them can help them find who did this.” He could tell them where he was and how he couldn't possibly have been driving that car.

  His eyes never moved from the photo. “No. I’m not ready. Not yet.”

  “I understand it’s hard. But you have to. It could help them, and it might even help you.” She didn’t want to say the next part, but she had to. Maybe it would be the thing that convinced him to talk with Al and Greg. “If you keep avoiding them, they’re going to start thinking you have something to hide.”

  His head snapped up, his miserable gaze meeting hers. “They think I killed her? That’s ludicrous. How could I kill her? I loved her.” Anger flashed in his eyes, then faded back to misery.

  She took the picture from him, set it on the side table, and held his hand. “I didn’t say they think it now. But if you keep refusing to talk to them, they might start. The fact is, most murders are committed by someone close to the victim. Often their significant other.”

  “Obviously I wasn’t that significant if she had someone else. Have they talked to...him?” He spat the word.

  “Yes. It wasn’t him.”

  “How do you know? He could be lying. Maybe—“

  “Dad,” she interrupted. “He didn’t do it."