by Jessie G
“Your serial killer?”
Davin remembered every family he destroyed in his years on the force and not one of them had been as composed as Alaric was now. Tone even, face carefully blank, Alaric didn’t question whether Davin had made the right identification, didn’t beg him to be wrong, didn’t lash out or cry. He simply stood there, watching and waiting.
“Yes.” While he couldn’t give too many details, Alaric would never accept the party line and Davin wasn’t capable of lying to him anyway.
“Davin—” Alaric began when he didn’t say anything else— “did you really come here on Christmas morning, after eight silent years, just to tell me my brother was dead?”
“What? No! Davin!” Behind him, Claire pushed the door open and stared at him in horror. “Davin, please, no!”
“Claire.” Helpless to do anything else, he wrapped her in his arms and let her cry.
What happened to not letting your emotions get involved? Huh, Detective Moron?
The answer was simple. He was never going to be able to separate his emotions from this family and Davin knew that before he ever knocked on the door.
Chapter Two
Davin
Now that he knew it was Christmas, Davin wasn’t surprised to find the department nearly empty when he returned to the precinct. As long as there weren’t any new call outs, most of the detectives could afford to take a few hours to celebrate with their families because they knew the single guys like him would hold down the fort.
Since work was all Davin had, he was just fine picking up the slack and after this morning’s disastrous notification, the silence was a welcome reprieve. Weaving around the empty desks, Davin headed straight for the conference room and closed himself in with the murder board. Up until he rolled Terence’s body, he believed in his ability to catch the killer. Now, with the weight of the Bennett’s grief weighing him down, he wasn’t so sure.
“You look like shit.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t sleep for five days.”
Captain James stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and stared at the board that had been haunting them all week. All five and a half stocky feet of him screamed top cop. He could dole out an ass whipping or an inspirational speech without changing expression and leave both new recruits and seasoned detectives walking on eggshells.
“Did you talk to the family?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d that go?”
Yeah, how did that go, Detective Moron?
“I brought their dead son home to them for Christmas. How do you think it went?”
James nodded. “It’s the worst part of the job on any day.”
“As understatements go…” Davin couldn’t think about it anymore. “I have to find this guy.”
“You will.” That quiet confidence should have boosted his own and instead it just made Davin want to tell his Captain the truth. He didn’t. Not because he feared the well-deserved reprimand, but because he couldn’t risk having the case taken away from him. “But not if you’re falling on your face. Why don’t you take a few hours and get some sleep in the rack? Then you can come at it with fresh eyes.”
“He’ll kill again in a few hours.” He understood that James was concerned for his well-being as well as his ability to do the job, and Davin appreciated it. Unfortunately, there was too much to do and not enough time to do it before they were starting all over again.
When it came down to it, his boss had no choice except to trust him to know when he’d reached his limit. “Have you heard from Sully?”
“He calls me every morning.” Thanks to a stray bullet, his partner wasn’t around to share the caseload. Luckily for his family, it wasn’t anything more than an annoyance wound. “He’s useless to me until he’s cleared for duty, so I told him to stay home. But don’t worry, I tagged a few guys in the pit to run down some leads in the meantime.”
“Good. Every uniform out there has been told to do whatever you say, so don’t hesitate to use all the resources available to you. You don’t have to do this alone, Monroe.”
“I know.” Davin glanced at his watch and stood, snagging his keys and cell phone. “All the evidence is being dissected. If there is something to find, I trust the team will be all over it. Until then, Everly’s waiting on me in autopsy.”
Falling in step beside him, James asked, “So, why don’t you look convinced?”
He’d been trying to figure that out himself. “Our guy is smart and sex clubs are notoriously secretive, even with dead bodies showing up every night.”
“Is he smart or is he just taking advantage of an opportunity?”
“Both. Somehow, he’s convincing these men to leave the safety of the club and go with him alone. So, he’s smart enough to take advantage of the opportunity he’s been given.”
“I thought people were smarter than that these days.”
“They are, except in the places where living on the edge is the point.” Thankfully, the elevator was there when he hit the call button, allowing him to end the conversation without being rude. “I’ll keep you posted.”
James stood there watching until the doors closed and Davin tried not to fidget. His captain was also a smart man who had once been an excellent detective. Davin would be foolish to think he could keep his secrets for long. All he could do was catch the bad guy and present a flawless case. Then, when the truth came out, James might be more lenient with him.
Not that Davin planned to be lenient with himself. Fact was, he was wasting too much time thinking about Terence and the Bennetts and not enough time focusing on the other victims. He was sabotaging his own case by allowing their emotions to weigh him down and he was too exhausted to stop. If he could get in a good hard run, he might be able to push through, but there was still hours of work to do before that happened. Instead, he banked on a brisk walk to the morgue, using the exertion and solitude to work through the crimes.
Jeremy Hargrove, the first known victim, was last seen at the underground dungeon Collars and Cages. A bartender remembered him coming in alone, ordering a scotch on the rocks, and politely rejecting anyone who approached. No thanks, I’m just looking. He stayed a couple of hours, taking up a bar stool, nursing a single drink, and shaking his head at any potential suitors before he up and left alone.
Yet, Davin knew that somewhere in that two-hour span, he connected with his killer. Someone that no one else saw. Where did he come from, what made him choose Jeremy, and most importantly, how did he convince Jeremy to leave with him? None of the victims tested positive for Rohypnol, so Davin could only assume the killer had the looks to attract his prey and the personality to control them.
Sex on the beach? It’s quintessential Florida. Secluded spot in the middle of the night, a few drinks, and a blanket of stars—what’s so wrong with that?
On your knees now, just like that... If they offer willingly, why shouldn’t he reach around to work their cock? Make them moan and scream and, yes, that’s the moment, that beautiful moment of vulnerability and ultimate surrender. They wouldn’t see it coming, not the glint of the knife, maybe they don’t even feel that first prick of the blade. They’re still smiling, still trembling from their final orgasm, as their blood mingles with the pool of semen in the sand.
But then why right the clothing? Pull up the pants, tuck in the shirt, fasten zippers and buttons and belts, before letting the body rest in the sand. Why bother? Leave the phone, the wallet, the jewelry…everything. It didn’t make sense.
Don’t you want a trophy? Of course, he’d want a trophy, so what did he take? A lock of hair, a cell phone picture, a selfie with the body…what? Dial nine-one-one from the victim's phone and then just drift away. No one to see him go, so it’s easy enough to get lost in the never-ending Miami nightlife before the cops arrive.
“You can go in, Detective.”
Davin jerked back at the friendly voice and issued a blistering curse when the visual he’d been working through
vanished. His gut said he was on the right track and the interruption was… He looked around and sighed. The interruption was warranted. Somehow, he walked all the way from the precinct to the medical examiner’s office and couldn’t recall a single step. Now, Everly’s receptionist was looking at him like he’d sprung a second head.
“Sorry, that was…”
“I’ve heard worse.” She waved him off. “You better get in there. He’s been waiting for you.”
Well, that was never good. Offering another apology as he hustled off, Davin could only hope Everly was waiting because he found something on Terence that was different from the other victims.
Everly stood when he barreled into the room, his gaze sharp as he handed over the file he knew Davin would want right away. “Walk over?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“I study bodies for a living. When you trudged away from the scene this morning, you were beaten, exhausted and frustrated. Now, not so much.”
“A run would have been better, but this was a good start.”
“Sleep would be better.”
So everyone kept telling him. “Not until I’ve got this bastard in a cage.”
Not wanting another lecture, he focused on Everly’s preliminary report and felt the first stirrings of hope. “You found DNA under his fingernails. Terence scratched him?”
How’s that for something new, Officer Ridgeway?
“Scratched someone, yes,” Everly agreed, then held up a hand before he could get too excited. “The system didn’t pull up any matches in the local database, so I sent the sample off to your forensic team. Not sure if they’ll find anything, but at least you’ll have something for comparison when you catch this guy.”
When. Not if. He liked the sound of that even if he had to pretend to be objective. “Terence was in a sex club. It could be anyone’s DNA.”
“It could, that’s true, but I didn’t find any evidence of a third person. Just Mr. Bennett and the single-donor DNA under his nails.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Evidence of another person would have made his job that much harder, so Davin took it as another win. “Let’s say for arguments sake that Terence arrived at the club late and the perp picked him out before anyone else could claim his attention.”
“Sounds right. He wouldn’t want to take the time to discourage another would-be suitor.”
“Buy him a couple of drinks?” Though he knew it would all be in the autopsy report, Davin much preferred talking it out and Everly was always willing to humor him.
“Some vodka, some tequila, some juice…all the makings of a couple of fruity cocktails and maybe a shot or two. None were spiked.”
“And not enough alcohol to take down a man this size.”
“Either he has full confidence in his own ability to seduce or he knew they’d be willing.”
“Easy prey.” And a few drinks would only help make them easier. “They make a little small talk, do a little flirting, whatever it takes to create a connection before he suggests they go somewhere private.”
“Somewhere romantic,” Everly corrected. “He’s seducing them.”
“Yes.” That was the perfect description. “Sex on the beach is romantic. Can’t walk out together though, gotta be discreet. How does he convince them to be discreet in such a place?”
“Maybe he tells them he’s married. Gives them some sob story about the wife that doesn’t understand his needs.”
“Does that still work?” If it did, it wouldn’t be enough to keep Terence quiet. In fact, he would get perverse satisfaction in outing a cheater.
“I’d like to say no, but…” Everly shrugged. “What if he was claiming to be famous or important? Like an actor or a politician.”
That would be gold to a man like Terence. Discreet? He’d be screaming it from the rooftops, posting it all over social media, making sure everyone saw them together. So, who could get Terence to keep his mouth shut?
“No,” Davin whispered. “Someone that represents authority.”
“A cop?”
“Or someone pretending to be a cop.”
“Why?” Everly frowned doubtfully. “If word got out about a cop in the club, they’d think he was there to make a bust, not get laid.”
“Maybe that’s part of the thrill. Convincing them that he is a cop and that he can be trusted. The mask of authority allows him to immediately assume the dominant role and he knows just how to wear it. Winning them over will be all the sweeter and of course they’d go off alone with a cop. We’re the good guys.”
“It’s a good theory, but how would they know he was a cop or pretending to be one? Is he flashing a badge? Wearing a uniform?”
“No, that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? He’s giving himself away though.”
“Body language. Some men just have that look about them.” Everly made a point of looking him over from head to toe. “How many times have you been pegged for a cop?”
“Hmm, that might leave a little too much to chance, but okay. He’s dominant. He’s got the authority persona down to a tee.” Let’s go, but we have to be discreet, can’t let my cop buddies know I like pretty boys. “And if he picks the right guy, the whole cloak and dagger shit would only turn them on and make them that much easier to manipulate.”
A knock on the door had Everly covering the body again as one of the lab techs stuck her head in to inform them that the family had arrived for identification. “Give us a few minutes. I’ll come out to get them.”
Hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat, Everly rocked back on his heels and murmured, “MPD doesn’t need the bad press from another cop gone wrong.”
“You’re right, but I don’t believe he’s a real cop.” At this point, all he had were theories and the feeling in his gut. The one that said he was onto something and getting closer. “What do they call those guys that go deep into a role? Method actors? That’s what he is. He’s defined a role for himself and he’s playing out a script each night until he gets it right.”
“That’s some complicated role.”
“Somewhere in the method is the real man. He’s fucking guys every night, so he’s gay or at least bi. He’s successfully coming off as dominant in a sex club, so he’s got some experience in the BDSM scene.” After storing his backpack under Everly’s desk, he walked to the door and turned back to add, “He’s a killer and it’s getting easier with each body he leaves behind.”
In the small reception area, Dante and Alaric stood waiting and turned when they heard him approach. When Dante started to step forward, Alaric grabbed his arm, reminding him with a subtle shake of his head that no one could know of their association. In all his years on the force, Davin rarely broke the rules. Bent them maybe, but today he’d broken two: failing to give full disclosure to Captain James and asking the family he’d just destroyed to keep their secret.
This isn’t going to end well for you, Detective Moron.
“Doctor Everly has taken very good care of your son, Mr. Bennett, but I want you to be prepared.” Davin turned sideways and motioned for them to follow. “We have an active investigation going on, so we won’t be able to release the body right away and identification will be done through a viewing room to preserve any evidence. When you’re ready, Doctor Everly will reveal your son’s face and I will ask you to confirm his identity.”
The viewing room was small and sparse, and once the door was closed, the privacy would quickly become suffocating. The window opposite the doors was covered and would remain so until the family indicated their readiness. Davin stood off to the side, waiting as they stepped forward and Dante nodded to him. The privacy screen parted and, at Davin’s instruction, Everly pulled the sheet down just enough to reveal Terence’s face.
There was always that moment of incomprehension when the family would be looking at their loved one without understanding what they were seeing. Then reality would hit with all the subtlety of a tidal wave, pulling under even the stro
ngest and most stoic.
It was Alaric who voiced what Dante couldn’t, taking the older man in his arms as he gave the confirmation Everly needed. Immediately, Davin engaged the privacy screen again, blocking their view of the body as they clung to each other. It was time for grieving, for facing reality, and he could not get pulled into that emotional vortex.
But Alaric wasn’t that polite. He grabbed Davin’s hand as he tried to ease out the door and tethered them together once again. Before he could think to pull away, Dante reached out and covered their joined hands with his own.
Chapter Three
Davin
Night had long since fallen when Davin pulled into the only reserved spot in front of his apartment building. Shortly after graduating from the academy, he had moved into the tiny one bedroom on the border of Wynwood and Overtown. The superintendent had been so thrilled to have a cop in the building, he installed a sign at the first spot near the door that read ‘Reserved for Officer Monroe.’ It stood proudly until he made Detective and was replaced. That and rent increases only every three years had made him stay long after the money was there to move up.
The location, size, and total lack of Miami charm—none of it mattered. It was a place to eat, sleep, and store the few things he cared to own. And since he didn’t date, there was no one to impress. Tonight, it was a haven away from the precinct and a chance to regroup. It wouldn’t have been enough to hit the rack for a few hours. He needed some food and a good hard run to get his brain working again, and if he managed to close his eyes for a little while, that would just be a bonus.
Juggling the reusable grocery bags, he hip-checked the door open and winced when it banged into the wall before swinging shut behind him. In an instant, he took in the small duffel near the couch, the aroma coming from the kitchen, and the open balcony door. Not that there was a view, but that wasn’t the point. What kind of thief aired out a stale apartment?
Really, Detective Moron, what kind of thief? The heart-stealing kind.
