Malice

by C. M. Sutter

  Don chuckled. “That was funny, sir.”

  Silence filled the other end of the phone line.

  “Sorry, boss. Anyway, yes, we may have a lead. Paul and I are headed back to the station. We were told a Liz Manthis, one of Sarah’s coworkers, wasn’t too fond of her, and they argued often. Several library employees actually heard threats from Liz aimed at Sarah.”

  “Go pick her up for questioning. I want to have a word with her myself. There’s been another murder.”

  Chapter 8

  “Kind of late for your phone to be ringing, isn’t it?” Amber jumped off the couch and retrieved it from the breakfast bar.

  “Huh? What about my phone?”

  Spaz hissed his disgust at the interruption. He had been comfortably sleeping on Amber’s lap.

  I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and reached for the cell phone in Amber’s outstretched hand. “My throat feels like sandpaper. I was snoring, wasn’t I?”

  “Yeah, like a freight train.”

  I grabbed the nearest pair of reading glasses and put them on.

  Amber smirked. “Those are mine.”

  “I don’t care, at least I can see through them.” I squinted at the screen. “Oh no, it’s Spelling. I hope it isn’t bad news.” I gave the wall clock over the kitchen table a quick check—10:07 p.m. After a quick gulp of warm beer from the half-empty glass on the coffee table, I answered the call. “Evening, boss. Is everything okay?”

  “Sorry for the late hour, Jade, but I have a confidential question for you that I don’t want to discuss tomorrow morning in front of the group.”

  I felt a temporary sense of relief even though I had no idea what was coming next. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Do you, as his partner, feel that J.T. is ready to go back out in the field?”

  I took in a deep breath and thought carefully before answering. “Physically or mentally?”

  “Both. Cam has filled J.T.’s shoes for the last six weeks, but it’s hard on his family life. He was also injured in that fiasco with Carden Vetcher.”

  “I know, boss, and Maria as well. As far as running, jumping, or climbing if need be, I’d say maybe not quite yet. Those Pirelli goons did a number on him. On a day-to-day basis, without that extra physical effort, yeah, sure. The doctor has already cleared him for normal activity.”

  “And mentally?”

  I finished the last two swallows of beer while I pondered that question. “Boss, J.T. is a strong, level-headed agent. He knows what this job entails.”

  “He also saw his former partner tortured and murdered right in front of his eyes, not to mention the physical and mental anguish Julie went through. J.T. carries a lot of guilt even though he tries to hide it.”

  “Counseling has helped both J.T. and Julie. I believe he’s ready to get back out there, sir. I know he hates sitting behind a desk all day, and he feels bad that Cam has taken over his out-of-town responsibilities for the last six weeks.”

  “So, if a situation occurred and your life depended on J.T., do you think he’s up for the challenge?”

  “If we were running for our lives, we’d depend on our weapons to get us through. Anything else, absolutely. I trust J.T. one hundred percent.”

  “Good answer, Monroe. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I just received a call from Captain Kip Hardy of the Omaha Central Police Department. He’s an old friend of mine who’s asked for our assistance. There have been three similar murders this week, two being just tonight. They need this nipped in the bud before another killing takes place. You and J.T. are heading to Nebraska tomorrow. I’ll update everyone during our morning meeting. Get some sleep, Jade, and thanks.”

  “Thank you, sir. Good night.”

  As I lay in bed a half hour later, I was filled with both hope and worry. J.T. was chomping at the bit to get back in the field, yet would those nightmares he endured after seeing Curt’s murder and Julie’s abuse come back with a vengeance? I let out a deep sigh.

  I guess time will tell.

  I reached for the switch on the table lamp and turned it off. With a few punches of my pillow to fluff it, I closed my eyes and said a prayer for J.T.

  I woke to what felt like a frown on my face. I squinted toward the window. A sliver of sun found an opportunity to pierce a laser ray right between my eyes. I sat up in bed and groaned. The blackout curtains weren’t completely closed, and the rising sun took full advantage of the opening.

  “Damn it, I could have slept for seven more minutes.”

  With the blankets tossed back, I grudgingly climbed out of bed and knotted my robe belt around my waist. I stumbled down the hallway to start the coffee then realized Amber had set the auto-start feature last night. A full pot of piping hot coffee waited in the carafe in front of me.

  “Bless you, Amber, and bless the person who invented coffee.” I reached for my favorite cup, a chipped one, from the cabinet above the dishwasher.

  “Talking to yourself?” Amber chuckled when she reached the kitchen and grabbed her own favorite cup from the cabinet.

  “Isn’t coffee amazing?” I took a seat at the breakfast bar to enjoy a leisurely cup of the brew before I began my frenzied routine to get ready for work and actually make it there on time. Traffic into the Milwaukee suburbs was always unpredictable.

  I finished the first round of coffee and poured a second cup to take into the bathroom with me.

  “Have time for breakfast?”

  “I’m good with a couple of raisin English muffins.”

  “Okay, just yell when you want me to pop them into the toaster.”

  I stopped and hugged Amber before I headed down the hallway. “I love you, girl.”

  “And I love you. Now get showered before you’re late for work.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  I gobbled down my muffins twenty-five minutes later after finger styling my damp hair. It would dry during my drive to Glendale.

  “Good luck in Omaha, Jade, and text me when you have a chance.”

  “I will, hon. Gotta brush my teeth and hit the road.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving now. Talk to you later, and be safe.”

  “Always.”

  Amber kissed Spaz and headed out the door.

  After a thirty minute drive, I reached our satellite office at 7:52—eight minutes early. I grinned as I rounded the back to our parking area until I noticed that J.T.’s car wasn’t in his slot. He usually arrived at work before me since his commute was a short ten minutes. My heart began to race until I heard the familiar chugging sound of him driving in second gear but going only ten miles per hour. I turned to see his new V8 six-speed Camaro stalling out. I laughed when he coasted into his parking spot and killed the engine.

  “What’s the problem? Do you need more lessons?”

  He climbed out of the low-slung seat and gave me a frown. “I don’t know how I ever let you talk me into buying this hot rod.”

  “Because a four-cylinder base model Corolla is so much cooler?”

  “This car is a lot of work, especially in heavy traffic. I-43 is like a parking lot.”

  “Accident?”

  J.T. shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is that my knees are throbbing.”

  I felt an instant twinge of regret. I razzed J.T. so much about getting a manly car after the Corolla burned in that warehouse fire that I gave no thought to the low seat or the clutch and his injured body. With his knees still healing from the constant abuse he endured from the Pirelli brothers, I realized now that a sports car with a manual transmission was the wrong choice. Manuals were a lot of fun but also a lot of work, especially in stop-and-go traffic. In hindsight, I knew he’d agreed to buy the Camaro only to get me off his back.

  “J.T., I’m sorry.”

  He raised his brows. “You should be.” He grinned. “About what?”

  “The car. I feel terrible. You’ve never complained about your knees hurting before.”

  “Nah, don’t sweat it. I’ll learn how to drive tha
t beast sooner or later. Some days my knees hurt more than others. It comes and goes.”

  I hoped whatever our task was going to be in Omaha wouldn’t involve overexertion on J.T.’s part. His broken jaw was healed, and the wires were removed only four days ago. His physical therapy sessions had gone from twice a week to three times a month, yet now I was second-guessing the overly confident conversation I had with Spelling last night. I wondered if J.T. was truly ready.

  “What’s with the face?”

  “Who, me?” I gave him a side-eye glance.

  J.T. slid his ID badge through the slot and pulled the back door open after hearing the click.

  “Yeah, you. You’re wearing a weird look.”

  “Hogwash. I just worry about your well-being, that’s all.”

  J.T. grinned again. “Thanks for caring, partner.”

  We followed the hallway to the conference room, where our usual morning update awaited us. That morning would be slightly different since I already knew J.T. and I were heading out as soon as the meeting wrapped up.

  “Good morning, agents.”

  We responded as we pulled out our usual pad of paper and pens. Spelling gave me a few extra seconds of eye contact before he began.

  “A request for our assistance came in last night.”

  “That’s odd,” Val said. “Who calls an FBI satellite office at night, and who would have answered?”

  “Well, the call would have been kicked back to the downtown office, but this was a call to my cell phone. A personal friend, Captain Kip Hardy of the Omaha Central Police Department, asked for our help.” Spelling waited until each of us stopped writing and returned our focus to him. “It appears that there have been three very similar murders just this week. Two of the deaths were a retired husband and wife and the other was a widowed woman who lived alone. They haven’t gotten the ME’s reports back yet, but they think the woman was murdered on Monday. She was discovered on Wednesday.”

  “Just yesterday?” Maria asked.

  “That’s correct, and the husband and wife were murdered last night. Several people have been interviewed and let go. There were no eyewitnesses, weapons, or unidentified prints found in either case. Normally we wouldn’t be called in so quickly, but the fact that all three victims had nearly identical stab wounds and were murdered in their homes leads the PD to believe they have a serial killer roaming the streets of Omaha.”

  “Any personal connection between the victims?” J.T. asked.

  “Not at first glance. Like I said, these are very new cases, but Captain Hardy doesn’t want to wait around for more murders to take place before asking for our assistance. One other thing, in both cases the homes were for sale by the same realty company.”

  “That’s a new one and maybe something we can work with,” Cam said. “When do we leave?”

  I shot a quick glance at Spelling then returned my attention to the notes I had taken.

  “Jade and J.T. are leaving after the meeting. If anyone has concerns with that, speak up now.”

  The room fell silent.

  J.T. jerked his head toward me and grinned. I returned the smile.

  Cam leaned back in his chair and let out a relieved sigh. “It’s about damn time.”

  Chapter 9

  I drove to our hangar at the airport. It was the least I could do. I was horrified to realize that J.T. actually hated his Camaro.

  The flight from Milwaukee to Omaha would be an easy hour and a half. We got comfortable as the plane took to the sky, yet J.T. seemed quieter than I would have expected. “You’re happy to be back in the field, aren’t you?”

  “Sure I am. That’s saying Spelling is confident that I’m good to go.”

  “And are you? Confident, I mean?”

  J.T. stared out the window as if deep in thought. I looked out too. Farm fields dotted the landscape in rich October tones of yellow, brown, and green.

  “J.T.?”

  “Curt’s brother lives in Omaha, you know. Maybe I should stop in and see how he’s doing.”

  “That would be nice if there’s time.” I reached across the table that separated us and covered J.T.’s hand with my own. “Curt’s death wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done to change what happened.”

  J.T. frowned and turned his head to the window again. “Isn’t that our job, Jade, as FBI agents, to change things and stop the bad guys from killing people? What about justice?”

  “Carden Vetcher and the Pirelli brothers won’t see freedom for quite some time. Isn’t that a form of justice?”

  “Sure, but not enough. Try telling Curt’s mother and brother that being locked up in prison is justice.” J.T. groaned and pressed his temples. “I’m so sorry, Jade. You know all this firsthand. I completely forgot about your dad while I sat here and wallowed in guilt.”

  I unfastened my seat belt and stood. “Want something to drink?” I needed to regroup and think of a different topic of conversation before we both started to cry.

  “Yeah, a soda is fine, thanks.”

  I grabbed two out of the jet’s mini fridge and took my seat. “Come on, enough sad sacks. Let’s brainstorm this new case even though we don’t have much information.”

  We landed at Eppley Airfield without incident at eleven o’clock. The central police department was a short five and a half miles away. We deplaned on the tarmac and entered the building on the lower level.

  “Pick out the most comfortable rental car you can think of because that’s the one we’re getting.”

  J.T. gave me a smirk. “Humph. That’s the best idea you’ve had in six weeks.”

  I punched his arm. “Smart-ass.”

  We viewed the available vehicles from the list behind the counter.

  “Look, they have Corollas.” J.T. elbowed me.

  “They have Camaros and Mustangs too, wise guy.”

  “Yeah, I’ll pass on both of them. How about the Explorer?”

  “Sure, it’s a Ford.”

  J.T. climbed in behind the wheel and grinned. “Man, I forgot what having room felt like.” He tilted the seat back a smidge, adjusted the mirrors, and pulled out of the rental lot. “Lead the way, copilot.”

  We reached the central police station on South Fifteenth Street twenty minutes later and grabbed a parking spot near the front of the nondescript concrete building.

  J.T. tipped his head toward the glass-walled entrance. “Let’s make our introductions and go from there. If they have another place for us to park, I’ll come out and move the car later.”

  “Sure thing.”

  J.T. held the front door open as I passed through. He followed at my back. A long counter with a thick Plexiglas wall separated us from the people behind it. Three uniformed officers sat on the other side. A large box built into the counter enabled items to be passed back and forth between visitors and them.

  “Can I help you folks?”

  I noticed the name tag worn by a middle-aged officer who approached the window separating us. T. Hillman gave us a quick smile.

  “Yes, thank you. We’re here from the FBI’s Serial Crimes Unit to see Captain Hardy.”

  “Credentials, please.”

  We dropped our badges in the box, and he pulled it toward him.

  He compared the images on our badges to our faces. I felt like a monkey in the zoo even though we had gone through that same process many times before. He placed our badges back in the box and slid it to us. “Have a seat, agents. I’ll see if the captain is available. There’s a refreshment stand at your back in the visitors’ lounge. Make yourselves comfortable.” Officer Hillman disappeared around a door on his side of the counter.

  I filled a plastic cup with water and took a seat. J.T. flipped through a car magazine while we waited.

  Officer Hillman returned to the counter and called to us through the intercom. “Captain Hardy is watching an interview in observation room one. He said you’re welcome to sit in on it if you’d like. It’s related to th
e case you’re here for.”

  I gave J.T. a nod. “Sure thing. Lead the way.”

  We followed Officer Hillman down several corridors until we saw the signs for observation rooms one through four. We stopped in front of the first door.

  “Here you go, agents. The captain is inside.”

  We thanked Officer Hillman, and he turned back the way we came from. I gave the door several knocks, and a deep voice on the other side said to come in. J.T. and I entered the standard-sized observation room that held three chairs, one of them occupied by a stocky man with a hint of gray in his hair. I guessed him to be in his fifties. He reached forward, silenced the intercom, stood to introduce himself, and extended his hand.

  “Captain Kip Hardy here. Nice to meet you, Agents—”

  “Monroe and Harper, respectively, sir.”

  He chuckled. “Please, you outrank me. No need for formalities. I just appreciate Phil allowing you agents to come to our assistance so quickly. I know it’s a bit unusual, but three victims have met their deaths in the last four days. That’s highly unusual, even for a city our size.”

  It sounded strange to hear SSA Spelling being referred to as Phil. “You must know SSA Spelling well,” I said.

  “Sure do. We went to college together in Madison. He was a year ahead of me in school but took time off after graduation to sow his wild oats before joining the police academy. We did that together too, but eventually, after being on the Milwaukee police force for two years, I was offered a nice position in Omaha. We each found our own place in life—mine here as the police captain and Phil as a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI.” Captain Hardy let out a long whistle and shook his head. “If you would have known him then”—he chuckled again—“who would have thought?”

  J.T. gave Hardy a quick grin then tipped his head toward the mirror. “Officer Hillman said this interview is related to the case at hand?”