“They probably came prepared, with a bigger vehicle, or a trailer.”
The snow had been wet, mixed with rain. Every trace of the vehicles could have been washed away. This theory could explain though why the slasher cases had spread coast to coast, if he, if the couple had opportunity to pack up and leave whenever the trail got too hot—but how come no one had ever stopped them? They needed supplies, possibly weapons, tools to alter their appearance.
“I think you’re right!” Christina sat up in her bed, a determined gleam in her eyes. “I got so dizzy and sick, felt like the ground was moving, but I thought it was the drugs. I’m trying so hard…I’m trying to remember how I got away, but all I can think of is running in the snow and falling down all the time. I don’t think I even looked back once.”
Frustration had won over hope once again.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t look back,” Joanna assured her. “In the movies they always do, and that never ends well. I’ll call Theo and see if that helps him in any way. They’ll be on the lookout for a bigger vehicle, something big enough to hide the murder freak show.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No problem. Just for the record, I’ll be glad to be far from the madness soon. I just want them caught, so this can be over.”
“I appreciate it,” Christina said.
On the way back to the hotel, Joanna called Theo. “You probably already know I saw Christina. Don’t get mad—she called me. You scared her. She thinks she might have been in a moving vehicle, something like a trailer? Okay, who’s that woman, and how reliable is the witness description?”
“No and no,” Theo said. “It’s nice talking to you again, and I’m sorry we all sucked as friends, but you promised.”
“It’s the slasher, right? Are you going to release a sketch to the press?”
“Whoa. Time-out. Joanna, am I speaking Chinese? Do my words make any sense to you at all?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“About that sketch. I need you to come in as soon as possible.”
“What? I didn’t do anything, I—”
“I know,” he interrupted her. “Something came up. Not on the phone.”
“Can I have breakfast first? There’s somebody waiting for me.”
“Tell her to wait a little while longer. I just need you to take a quick look.”
“Can’t you send it to me now? I swear I’ll delete…”
The instant ping indicated a message sent. Joanna parked in the lot of the hotel and opened it.
“Oh my God. Damn. Fuck this.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Theo said dryly. “You really have a knack for attracting trouble.”
Staring back at her from the sketch, hair straight instead of wavy, was Grace. Why hadn’t Christina recognized her? She gave herself the answer. Hair color, make-up, and Christina had admitted she’d already had a few drinks by the time she met the couple. Joanna stared at the screen for a long moment, considering her options. She could make a positive ID and then leave it up to the professionals, that exclusive group she didn’t belong to anymore. She could go back up, hide under the covers in the warmth of Rue’s embrace and pretend she’d never been so desperate for sex and escape that she’d hooked up with a murderer.
Or she could do the right thing.
“It’s her,” she said. “Grace. I’m sure they use contact lenses in different shades, change hair color a lot. Can you meet me at the station? I just have to make a quick call. See you there.”
Joanna realized she wasn’t so brave after all.
I’m sorry, I won’t be able to make it. Something came up, she texted.
There was no need to drag someone innocent into this mess.
Chapter Seven
It was the first time Joanna had been to the department since her arrest. It was obvious that no one had forgotten, considering the heavy silence that fell over the room the moment she walked in. The place was busy—it might be Sunday, but with a new victim having turned up, there was no rest for the investigators. The killers were still in town. The police had to make sure they didn’t get out.
Theo appeared out of nowhere, taking her arm.
“What do you think you’re doing? Come with me.”
When they were on the roof, out of the earshot of curious colleagues, he took out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. Joanna gladly accepted. Act now, worry about the consequences later, as usual.
“Tell me about that other victim,” she said.
Theo sighed. “Same MO. It’s definitely them, and Grace or whatever her name is, is part of this. By choice or coercion, we don’t know yet. The apartment is empty, and the phone number she gave you doesn’t exist anymore. We think he took her somewhere else, probably still in the city limits. We’re keeping the idea of the trailer in mind.”
She had assumed they were still around. Joanna wasn’t so convinced of how Theo interpreted Grace’s role in this mess.
“Come on. She seemed pretty independent to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving. He probably watches her when she’s approaching a victim…I’m sorry,” he said when Joanna shuddered.
“Don’t be. I think I was a distraction, nothing more. I don’t fit the profile.”
“You were an investigator on the case. Don’t you think the slasher remembers you? Joanna, I want you to be more careful. Until we get this guy…”
“You want me to do what, take a vacation out of town? You seem to forget that I’m living on a different kind of pay check now. Besides, Grace didn’t contact me again. They killed another woman, and now they need to find a way to get out of town. So tell me about her.”
“The witness saw her dance with Grace. They seemed to spend most of the evening together, very hands-on. A man approached them, they talked for a few minutes and then all left together.”
“She doesn’t kill by herself,” Joanna surmised. “Why do women trust men they don’t know? Let me rephrase that. Why do women trust any men?”
“That’s harsh.”
“That’s a valid question, actually. There aren’t so many female serial killers.”
“Except I have one on my hands now.”
Joanna pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat.
“Look, I know you could get in trouble for discussing the case here with me. You got enough of that from our colleagues and the press after…Decker. I don’t want that to happen again, but no one says we can’t meet off the clock, at The Copper Door or wherever we might run into each other. We could bounce off ideas. And…I’d like you to get me my old notes on the slasher. We need to compare past and present cases, see what changed besides Grace and the marker. We need a clearer profile. What happened? He hates women, yet he lets one work alongside him, to do what? Show off his power? Show Grace her place in the world?”
“You’re the one who said she seemed independent,” he reminded her.
That, in itself, was a victory. He hadn’t brushed her off again. One foot in the door, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to walk through, but didn’t have a choice.
“Yeah. Maybe I should try to contact her.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? Okay, let me rephrase that. I thought you met someone.”
“Gee, I need Vanessa to stay out of my affairs for five minutes or so.”
He laughed. “Don’t blame her. I saw you two together for five seconds, and that looked pretty intimate to me. Besides, you had to go somewhere earlier, so I thought…”
“You thought wrong. Who would want to get dragged into a disaster like this?”
“Come on…”
“The first time I called you after all this time, you yelled at me. Believe me, I know, being associated with me can kill your reputation. I have no illusions about that.”
“You do have illusions about people’s memory though. What happened, was bad, there’s no denying that. I can guarantee you most of the people downstairs dreamed about doing what you did, but there’s a lin
e that we draw, and if we step over it, we create chaos, not order.”
“I know. I’ve had this conversation with Vanessa many times.”
“Good, then it’s about time you realize something. Even if you can’t work for this department again and you made life difficult for quite a few of us…”
She shook her head and turned away. There was a killer couple on the loose, no time to turn this into a therapy session.
“It doesn’t mean no one cares about you. Remember that sometime.”
“Yeah, well, thanks. I need to…” Go to work, she’d almost said, but the truth was she had nowhere to go. Was her decision regarding Rue premature?
No, she decided. With the latest developments, it was even more important to keep her away, keep her safe. She’d always cherish the memory. Wasn’t that one of those platitudes people used to console themselves?
* * * *
When she was still working as a cop, with a reputation, a regular salary and high hopes for her career, Joanna had been by the book. She used to shake her head about cop dramas and books in which the heroine went off by herself only for dramatic effect, to create the ultimate showdown.
She had become a fictional cliché, and it wasn’t something she would recommend to anyone.
Back in her apartment, she went straight for the half-filled bottle of vodka, lighting another cigarette. Joanna wasn’t sure if Theo would come through with her old files. It would be helpful to look at those notes now…She’d understand if he didn’t. In the meantime, there was something she could do. He would be spitting mad and probably reconsider the cease-fire or giving a damn, but the results might be worth it.
The reason why Grace seemed so off and bizarre, might be that she was under some influence, drugs, intimidation, or both. If they could isolate her and convince her to give up the slasher…First, they had to find her. Joanna didn’t owe anything to anyone. There was no book to go by anymore, and besides, no one could arrest her for asking questions.
She got up, picked up her keys and left, thought twice and went back to grab her coat when she saw the snowflakes swirling around.
Almost Christmas. For some reason, that made her think of Rue, something she had successfully avoided, and as if on cue, a missed voicemail popped up on her cell phone screen.
Hey, Rue said, I’m really not into texting, sorry. She laughed self-consciously, the sound filling Joanna with irrational longing. It had been just one night, damn it. She had other things to do now. Being distracted could get her killed…or worse, someone else. I’m not sure I understand what’s going on, but I’d love to see you again and just talk. Last night…It meant something to me. I hope you feel the same. See you soon and…thanks for everything.
She turned off the phone and walked the few blocks to The Copper Door, wincing at the Christmas music coming from the speakers. It was becoming infinitely harder to escape the holiday cheer. Luckily, she saw a familiar face behind the counter and approached the bartender.
“Hey. You remember the girl who kicked the jukebox?”
He filled a glass for her without asking. The gesture made Joanna cringe, but not enough to reject the offer.
“Yeah, the police was here to ask about her. You a cop?” She couldn’t blame him for sounding this incredulous after seeing her come in night after night, drinking with Vanessa or by herself, and on occasion, hooking up with a woman.
“No. I was just wondering if you could help me find her. She left something of hers with me. If she comes in again, could you tell me? She has my number.”
He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I bet,” then cleared his throat.
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.” Joanna put a bill on the counter to pay for her drink, wondering what to do next. It was only early afternoon, and she didn’t want to spend the day in here—she could sadly tell how that would work out.
She walked out the same time another patron came in, and they nearly ran into each other.
“That’s lucky,” Rue said. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”
Joanna didn’t answer, feeling trapped in multiple ways besides the physical. She couldn’t push her aside and leave, or run for the backdoor, both of which would make her look immature. She couldn’t… “I’m sorry, I need to go.”
“I think you owe me a word…some words. I’m sorry, that sounds bad. I don’t mean to be that kind of woman, but I couldn’t help feeling something changed after that phone call, and I’d like to know…” She took a deep breath. “Okay, please, let me start over. I haven’t had breakfast yet. Could we go somewhere together? Just talk? I swear, if you want, I’ll leave you alone after that. I just want to know where we’re at.”
Joanna wished she hadn’t started the day on regrets and vodka. In the privacy of her apartment, it didn’t matter if she was sorry for herself and giving in to the sentiment. Even though she was certain letting Rue go was the right choice, she didn’t want to, and she felt deeply embarrassed by the present situation.
“I could use a coffee,” she said.
“Good.” Rue gave her a hopeful smile. “I’m starving. Last night was as exhausting as it was beautiful.”
Joanna knew she was in deep trouble.
Rue had legitimate questions, she was sure, none of which Joanna could answer without telling her that only days before they met, she had hooked up with a murderer. She had overlooked signs, because usually it didn’t matter, if you didn’t plan on seeing the person ever again. It was what Joanna did. It might not be terribly healthy or sane, but getting close to someone, inevitably disappoint them, was worse, wasn’t it?
To her surprise, Rue didn’t press for answers. She seemed perfectly content to just sit in the café and chat. It had stopped snowing, and the clouds had moved to make room for a brilliant blue sky. More Christmas music. There was no escape.
“While I was trying to figure out what to do about your message, I did an internet search. I thought you looked familiar.”
Here we go.
“Does that make me seem more interesting or insane?”
“You served your time. You don’t owe me any explanation…for any of that, anyway.”
“Maybe I do.” Joanna held on to the cup like a lifeline. Maybe it was that she really wanted to touch Rue instead, believe that there was a way to outrun the shadows. “I don’t have a definitive answer. I haven’t thought about long term in…anything for quite some time, though I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to see you again. There’s just a lot of baggage I should have told you about sooner.”
Rue shook her head. “I understand this isn’t something you roll out on the first date, or even the morning after. Besides, everybody’s got…stuff.”
“Yep, you’re working for the conservative guy. That’s hardly a comparison.”
“I never used to do one-night-stands either, or search my dates on the Internet. The truth is I want to spend more time with you, get to know you better, beyond what the newspapers said. If you want that.”
“You’re pretty brave.”
“Selfish maybe. Last night…I loved every moment of it.”
Me too. “It’s not that easy. I’m kind of connected to this case now, and they haven’t caught the killer yet. I don’t want to…” This sounded like a lame excuse even to Joanna, and she’d set the bar pretty low before.
“You think you’re in danger? Or that I am?”
“I can’t say for sure. That’s enough to worry me.”
“It’s just that? Nothing I said or did?”
“Of course not. Everything you did was perfect.”
Rue smiled as her cheeks reddened, and she took a hasty sip of her juice.
“Let’s pretend for a moment all those complications didn’t exist. What would you like to do with the rest of the day?”
There was no what if, when you were trying to make it day to day, pay check to pay check—or when you had just put out the word for a likely dangerous individua
l to contact you.
Joanna knew for sure what she didn’t want to do. Go home to her cold, lonely, not to mention, messy, apartment by herself. Do the sensible thing, or maybe irrationally feel responsible for every ugly thing in the world as usual. Theo was right—chances were Grace had long moved on.
Why couldn’t she?
Joanna put a couple of bills on the table to cover the check and tip.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They walked along the river that was partially frozen, snow crunching under their boots. Rue linked her arm around Joanna’s as they passed by a group of kids having a snowball fight.
When was the last time she’d gone out to simply take a walk that didn’t lead her to The Copper Door or the next liquor store?
“I think we both need a change,” Rue said. “Maybe we can inspire each other to get it done.”
“You are surprisingly not freaked out. I don’t know what to make of that,” Joanna admitted.
“I think you and everyone else have been incredibly hard on you. I don’t need to add to it. You crossed a line and you paid for it. Maybe I need a little bit longer to process all of this, but it doesn’t matter. What I feel is still the same. I felt safe with you.”
“Thank you.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d said those words, not just in her mind, but in an urgent whisper.
* * * *
Felicity hadn’t done the trick. Grace didn’t understand why it was so easy for Edward to let go of Joanna when she couldn’t. She had once hunted him, and from the looks of it, she was doing it again. Shouldn’t that encourage him, challenge him? Even after working alongside of him for years, she hadn’t completely figured him out, and it was driving her crazy. He was packing the van.
She stood, fists at her sides.
“Tell me again why we shouldn’t have a go at her? We were careful. The police have nothing on us as long as we are careful about our appearances.”
“You can’t be careful enough,” he said, unimpressed. “Besides, she doesn’t interest me. Too old.”
“Well, we all get older, even you, Prince Charming,” she sneered, offended. The woman was younger than her, if only by a couple of years.
Killer Instinct Page 7
