Missing Hearts

by Wright, Kenya

  My eyes watered.

  Calm down. It’s fine.

  “Sorry. I skipped breakfast due to the Angel Maker’s surprise. I had to get in a quick protein shake.” Dr. Ross slurped through the straw, making a rather loud noise. Then, she burped.

  I looked away.

  Do not throw up! Do not throw up!

  “Protein.” Alexander walked over to the other side of the table. “I thought it was a chocolate shake. Figured you were finally treating yourself.”

  “No way. The hubby has us going on a surprise vacation this summer for our anniversary. I’m trying to get into a bikini.”

  “Oh.” Alexander smiled. “You’ll fit.”

  “I’ll fit, but it won’t look as nice as the girls in the magazines.”

  “Men don’t care about the models in the magazines. They like someone who is warm, soft, sweet-smelling, and a good listener.”

  “And one that looks good in a bikini.” Dr. Ross took another sip of her protein shake and set it down on the table. “Hey, we’ve got a newbie.”

  I swallowed down more bile, unable to comprehend how Dr. Ross could eat or drink anything around all these dead bodies.

  Dr. Ross turned to Alexander. “Is this a new agent, or are you finally dating?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you think a morgue would be a pretty shitty date?”

  “Not if she’s adventurous.” Dr. Ross eyed me.

  I smiled at her. “I’m Special Agent Haven Barron.”

  “Dr. Ross.” She looked me up and down. “I can already tell you’re going to give Agent King hell. Good for you.”

  I was going to respond, but she turned to Melody and reminded me sadly of why we were here. I focused on my breathes—slowly inhaling and then exhaling.

  Melody lay nude on the table. The little girl’s small frame was stiff, and her brown skin had grayed. Her chest was open. Dr. Ross probably had taken out her organs to test them. Her hair was braided into two long bows. According to the files of the other girls, the Angel Maker would have done that. He liked to have the girls dressed and looking nice before they died.

  Oh my God. I don’t know, if I’ll. . .ever forget this.

  Alexander walked around the table and studied Melody from every angle. Those blue eyes narrowed and intense. No fear or horror lay within him. At this point in his career, Melody’s body must’ve been the sixtieth corpse he’d evaluated.

  He leaned forward. “Time of death?”

  “6:00am.” Dr. Ross put on blue gloves. “Just like the other girls.”

  “Right at the break of dawn.” Alexander grabbed white plastic gloves from the box in the back and handed me some.

  Oh. Um. . .I’m going to be touching. . .her. . .too?

  The chemical stench around Melody burned my nostrils. I focused on breathing out of my mouth as I put the gloves on.

  Alexander continued. “He smothers them with the pillow, right when the sun hovers over the Earth. That’s important to him.”

  Dr. Ross jumped in, “Her stomach was full of bacon, eggs, a mixture that suggests pancake and syrup. Orange juice. He gave the victim a big meal before smothering her.”

  Alexander murmured, “Just like the others.”

  “And more similarities, the pillow matches the fibers found in her throat and nose. While he was smothering her, she would’ve struggled for breath under the pillow, ingesting material from it.”

  I gathered my voice and spoke, “Any bruises or marks?”

  “No.” Dr. Ross shook her head. “No sign of sexual or physical abuse besides the smothering. While he keeps them, he doesn’t restrain the girls. If he did, then there would be small bruises around their wrists or ankles. Some tell-tale sign that they’d been held by rope, chains, or something.”

  Alexander frowned and looked up at Dr. Ross. “Then, what is new?”

  Dr. Ross’s blue-gloved fingers pointed right above Melody’s mouth. “He left a mini cross inside her mouth. He placed it on top of her tongue.”

  Alexander and I exchanged glances.

  “And that’s not it.” Dr. Ross walked to the counter and picked up a bag. “This is one of those pendants that have mini messages inside. Have you ever heard of them? People use a magnifying glass to write an itsy-bitsy message on it.”

  Alexander picked up the bag and assessed it.

  “I had my assistant blow up the message.” She picked up a card and handed it to me. “It’s the Lord’s Prayer.”

  I read it, “Our Father who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. . .”

  “It’s all there within that tiny cross.”

  I tried to ignore the scent of death that shoved up my nostrils. “Do you think he wrote this or bought it from somewhere?”

  “We tested the ink and metal. It’s all old. The cross was around longer than my kids. At least twenty years.”

  Alexander turned the bag around. “I wonder if the cross was a family heirloom.”

  “Or a family business,” I added.

  He nodded. “Either way, this cross could help us find him. Thank you, Dr. Ross.”

  I turned back to Melody and stared at her ponytails. “Did you do any tests on her hair? In Melody’s school pictures, her hair was curly. Now it looks pressed.”

  Dr. Ross turned back to the body and stared at it as if for the first time. “Fascinating. I didn’t think about that.”

  Alexander gave us an odd look. “About what?”

  I answered, “If I remember correctly, Melody had natural hair. Right now, it looks pressed.”

  “I see what you’re saying.” Dr. Ross leaned down and sniffed. “Hot combed even. I can check.”

  Dr. Ross knows about a hot comb. She must have a little sister in her.

  Alexander set the bag on the counter and studied Melody’s hair. “So, you’re saying that the Unsub possibly changed her hair somehow?”

  “Yes. The texture. Back in the day, mothers would get a metal comb and put it on a stove to let it get super-hot.” I grinned at Alexander’s shocked expression. “And strand by strand, they would comb the hot metal through to straighten the hair.”

  Dr. Ross shook her head. “Don’t even remind me. I still have the scars on my scalp. And my edges have never been the same. I’m so glad people don’t do that anymore.”

  Alexander pointed to Melody’s braids. “But our Unsub does. He thinks a hot comb is what a girl needs before she gets dressed and ready to go.”

  “Yes.” I let out a long breath. “This could mean that he’s older than what Tina thought. She said thirties. I would say at least late thirties to early forties. He would’ve seen it a lot more.”

  Alexander crossed his arms. “And. . .he may be she after all.”

  I swallowed. “Yes. He could be a she.”

  “I’ll do tests on the hair.” Dr. Ross grabbed a pen and scribbled notes onto a pad. “Hopefully, I could let you know what type of hair products were used and if it was a hot comb. Maybe I can even figure out what type of hot comb. Give me twenty-four hours.”

  Alexander gave her his winning smile. “You get it done faster and I’ll bring you two packs of high-end protein shakes.”

  She quirked her brows. “How fast?”

  “Have it in by tonight.”

  “Then, you better grab those shakes. There’s a Whole Foods in Colesville. Five minutes away.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Movement came from behind. I glanced over my shoulder. Several Fullbrooke police officers followed Sheriff Michaelson as he marched toward us.

  I remembered him from my childhood. Every now and then he would invite my father, mother, and me over to one of his barbecues that coincided with football season. He was one of the few cops that my father liked on the force.

  He’d changed from when I’d seen him long ago. The sun had tanned his skin to a ruddy reddish tint. Wrinkles decorated his cheeks and forehead. Gray dotted the black hair near his temples.

  Sheriff Michaelson nodded at me. “I heard y
ou were back Haven.”

  I smiled. “News travels fast around here.”

  “As always. Your father sure would be proud to know you were down here helping to find these little girls.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You’ll have to come over for dinner one of these evenings. Betsy still makes a mean apple pie. I know how you loved that when you were a little girl.”

  “I sure did. I’ll make sure to let you know.”

  “Then, I hope to see you soon, Haven.” Sheriff Michaelson directed his attention to Dr. Ross. “What’s new?”

  Dr. Ross handed him the bag with the holy cross. “Our guy left this in the victim’s mouth. It has the Lord’s Prayer on it.”

  The sheriff didn’t look at the bag. Instead, he checked the little girl. “Any signs of nasty things? Sexual stuff?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Make sure you check again.” Sheriff Michaelson pointed at her. “There’s no other reason that this man is taking these little girls, but to do nasty things to them. I bet when we find the place, there will be semen all over it.”

  With a bored expression, Alexander asked, “What gives you that impression?”

  “He’s a pervert. That’s what?”

  Alexander countered, “I believe there’s something more to him taking the girls than sexual perversion—”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m rounding up more pedophiles today and throwing them in jail.”

  Alexander crossed his arms over his chest. “My understanding was that you did that last month and Melody was still kidnapped.”

  “That just means I missed a few pedophiles.” The sheriff’s mouth widened into a smile. “I heard that you all are looking for a black man for this. Last month, I grabbed all the white perverts. This week, I’m going to get all the black ones.”

  Alexander frowned. “Not that I care about protecting pedophiles’ rights, but we have not made an official report on the profile of the Unsub yet.”

  “There are whispers that he’s black and goes to Pastor Miller’s church. Why else would you send forensics down there?”

  “We’re following a trail of evidence.”

  “And I’m trying to get a mad man off my streets—”

  “By arresting random people?”

  “By rounding up the usual suspects.”

  Alexander shook his head. “That could be a mistake.”

  I spoke up, “Sheriff Michaelson, men who are listed as sexual offenders run a long list of offenses. Some of the men could have been eighteen and dating a sixteen-year-old and the parents had them arrested. Others could truly be sick and disgusting. The problem is that this town is already hot with fear and rage. Mass arrests may not be the solution.”

  “Haven, you’ve been gone a long time.” Sheriff Michaelson gave me a sad smile. “This town is not as peaceful as you remember it. Action must come.”

  “Action.” Alexander snorted. “You waited for seven months to call us.”

  “We had no idea it would get this out of hand.”

  “You should’ve called us for missing girl number two at least.”

  The sheriff growled, “Agent King are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”

  Dr. Ross raised her hands in the air. “Excuse me, guys, but I have a lot to do. Unless you want examination notes, I would love for you to finish this conversation outside.”

  The sheriff and Alexander exchanged angry expressions. Sheriff Michaelson looked like he wanted to punch Alexander in the face. Regardless, I knew he wouldn’t. Alexander was too big and tall. And the sheriff was too old to be scrapping with anybody.

  Chapter 7

  Lover Boy

  Alexander

  The sun set. It had been a long day. The morning began with Melody’s body. The afternoon brought the new agents—Haven and Tina. As much as I disliked new people, they had been a huge help in the case.

  I may let Barron stay longer. But when it gets too dangerous, she’ll have to go.

  She was too beautiful to be harmed. Too kind to be changed from this case. Every person that knew her had smiles on their faces and good memories of Haven in their heart. While it was clear she’d been a troublemaker as a kid, the town loved her dearly.

  As we drove toward Haven’s ex-boyfriend’s house, I glanced her way. “You’ve helped a lot today.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “I hope so.”

  “Trust me. I wouldn’t have caught the hot comb with Melody’s hair.”

  She laughed. “Let’s hope that’s a big clue, but I doubt it.”

  “It sounds like a big one to me. There’s a reason he pressed her hair. It also points to his background and culture.”

  She let out a long breath. “God, I hope he’s not black.”

  “You would rather he be white?”

  “It’s messed up to say, but yes. Am I racist for saying that?”

  “Most people don’t want a killer coming from their racial groups. It’s as if the person is muddying the whole group’s name.”

  “I guess. Also, I don’t want this killer being from Fullbrooke. I would rather he be some crazy stranger from far away.”

  “Too close to town, the killer’s reveal might hurt everyone even more?”

  “Yes. It would break everyone’s hearts.”

  “But at least other little girls will be safe.”

  “Which is more important.”

  “It is.” I rounded the corner to his street. “Are you nervous about seeing your ex-boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “I would rather approach this as interviewing Mr. Sean Thompson.”

  “But, one can’t forget your connection to him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess because I’m intrigued.”

  “But it has nothing to do with the case.”

  “Or it could.” I shrugged. “He loves black women, but is ashamed of it—”

  “Sean is not the Angel Maker.”

  I held in my skepticism. “How did you two meet?”

  “We went to school together.” Haven looked out the window. “It was a typical nerd meets jock situation. He was a quarterback failing Algebra. The coach was going to hold him back from football games, if he didn’t get his grade up.”

  “So, you tutored him?”

  “No.” She laughed. “I made him pay me ten dollars to do his math assignments. When we had a test, he sat next to me. The answers were always multiple-choice A to D. I wrote my letters huge so he could see them.”

  “How much did that cost him?”

  “Twenty dollars every exam.”

  “Did he pass?”

  “Sean and I were the highest students in the class, and he ended up being the Most Valued Player of the season.” She gazed off in the distance with a silly expression on her face. “During Christmas break, the idiot snuck into my neighborhood, climbed my back fence, and tapped on my window. If my father had caught Sean, he would’ve shot him. It doesn’t matter what race or age he was. According to my father, nobody could get close to me.”

  “He sounded like a good father.”

  “He was, and very protective.” She sighed. “Either way, Sean brought me a bouquet from the gas station, ice cream, and a calculator. I didn’t need a freaking calculator, but it was the thought that counted. After a while, Sean continued to sneak to my house, and we would just talk at first.”

  “And then it became more?”

  “Much more.”

  I wasn’t a fan of their history. If Sean became a suspect, it would cause conflict with the case. I liked to think that it was the only reason these details annoyed me. However, I didn’t like the idea of a young Sean sneaking into Haven’s room. I didn’t want to say it was jealousy, but I had no other emotion to point to.

  I cleared my throat and decided to change the subject, not wanting to hear more of their love affair. “How are his parents? Did you know his father and mother well?”

  “His father knew something weird was goin
g on with Sean. Lots of sneaking off in the middle of the night. Reverend Thompson followed Sean to my house one evening. Dad was off at work. Cops do crazy hours. Mom was at church for something. I pretended to be sick. By this time, Sean and I were doing more than eating ice cream and talking.”

  “Reverend Thompson got an eyeful?”

  “He went crazy and took us down to the police station to give me to my father. The whole town knew by the next day.”

  “You two stopped then?”

  “Not really. We tried, sneaked back a few times, and then we graduated.”

  They have a lot of history. Too much.

  I frowned. “Tell me more about his parents.”

  “Sean’s father used to be a Reverend of a church, although he still expects to be called Reverend Thompson. No one would ever let him head a church again. They said he stole lots of money and put the past church in a quarter million in debt. They ended up closing the building and selling it.”

  “What’s the building used for now?”

  “I think it’s a restaurant that plays jazz, but I don’t know if it’s still here. I haven’t been back in years. For the holidays, I’ve been flying my mother to me. She likes getting away from Fullbrooke and shopping in DC. It’s fun for her. Last Christmas I took her to the Bahamas.”

  “You’re a good daughter.”

  “It’s all guilt for leaving her here by herself, but she refuses to move up to DC and stay with me. Claims she doesn’t want to get in my way.” Haven shook her head. “Regardless, Reverend Thompson has a reputation for being a cheat. Sean used to talk about it sometimes when we were teens. He claimed his father would go over to Colesville and hook up with the Spanish and Black girls on the downlow.”

  “Interesting. So, Reverend Thompson isn’t that much of a racist as the town thinks?”

  “He’s messed up in the head for sure. Publicly, he is as racist as can be without sounding too politically incorrect. Behind doors, apparently, he’s butt naked and chasing women of color around the bed, trying to give it to them.”

  I laughed. “And Sean’s mother?”