Malice

by C. M. Sutter

  I spoke for the group. “Coffee for starters would be great.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am. I’ll make a fresh pot.”

  “How old are those doughnuts?” Hardy pointed at the glass case behind the man.

  “The bakery delivers them every morning at three o’clock. We get our morning rush of customers”—he looked at his wristwatch—“in about forty-five minutes.”

  “Then I’ll take two chocolate-filled eclairs.” Hardy rubbed his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch.”

  “None of us have. I’ll take two apple fritters,” J.T. said.

  We took turns ordering our sugary breakfasts, knowing we’d be back at the interviews before the morning crowd entered the diner. With the carafe of hot coffee and plenty of doughnuts in front of us, we’d be set for the next few hours.

  “Maybe we should pass the interviews off to the local beat cops and busy ourselves with something more productive,” Hardy said. “This actually isn’t our jurisdiction.”

  “It’s your call, Cap,” I said. “We’re here to help with whatever we can.” I poured another round of coffee for each of us and bit into my second French cruller.

  Hardy’s phone rang as he took a gulp of coffee. “Nothing good happens at this time of morning.” He furrowed his brows and answered. “Captain Kip Hardy here.” He paused while the person on the other end spoke. “What? Where? Who found her?” He slammed his open hand on the counter. “Son of a bitch. Thanks, Mike, we’re on our way.”

  I jumped off my stool. “Somebody found Jackie?”

  “No, another murder, except this time it was in Bellevue. Let’s go. The locals are already on-site.”

  I turned to the four officers. “Guys, please continue the interviews. Have your sergeant call me as soon as he can. I slid my card across the counter then handed the waiter a twenty. I grabbed my cruller and raced out the door behind Hardy, Lyles, and J.T.

  We headed to our vehicles as Hardy explained what the caller had said.

  “That was Chief Mike Gebhardt from the Bellevue PD. He’s been following the sporadic news broadcasts and thought the crime scene was similar enough to alert us at the central station. The night desk sergeant patched him through to me.”

  “Who found the victim?” I asked.

  “The newspaper delivery driver saw something odd in the yard when he stopped to toss the newspaper in the driveway.”

  “What the hell could be in the yard?”

  “The body,” Hardy said. “Mike told me the victim has a neck wound just like the others.”

  “So it’s a female?” J.T. asked.

  Hardy nodded. “The only difference is, she was placed outside and covered by a white blanket. The perp leaned her against the For Sale sign.”

  Lyles whistled. “Holy shit, that’s brazen.”

  Stress covered Hardy’s face. “Chief Gebhardt said the sign was replaced with a different one. The new one contained a message from the killer himself.”

  “He’s getting bolder. Apparently, he isn’t getting the reaction he’s looking for. How far is Bellevue?” J.T. asked when we reached the vehicles.

  “It’s about fifteen minutes to our south,” Lyles said. “We’ll lead the way.”

  Chapter 33

  J.T. checked his mirrors and fell in line behind Lyles. We merged onto the freeway and headed south.

  “This is getting out of control. Spelling thinks we should start over. We need to develop a profile of this killer and what his motivation is before we’ll ever know who we’re looking for. You caught that about the neck wound being the same as the others.”

  “Sure,” J.T. said. “The victim is a woman.”

  “Then Spelling is on the right track. The killer isn’t after Stewart. He’s someone who’s enraged by a particular woman. He’s taking out that hate on other females, surrogates in a way.”

  “Then why kill Bob King?”

  “Wrong place, wrong time, possibly?” I thought hard about my response since Bob King was indeed the only man killed so far. “J.T., I think I have it. The newspaper was lying open to the crossword puzzle, and Chad’s name was written in the margins. We’ve established that was Gloria’s chair since ladies’ glasses were on the side table, along with the house phone. Somebody with a burner phone, probably the killer, was the last entry in the call log that night. Gloria had to be the one who answered the phone. Maybe the killer thought she lived alone and had no idea Bob was there. It was the perp who pretended to be Chad Nolan. That’s why his name was penciled in on the edge of the newspaper.”

  “You know, Jade, that’s the most logical thing I’ve heard since we got to Omaha. That has to be how it happened. So what is similar with all these women that he chose them?”

  “I don’t know. Their ages were totally different. They didn’t live in the same neighborhoods or work in the same fields. They didn’t have friends in common.” I rubbed my temples and hoped it would help me think. “Hair color, maybe? Each woman’s hair was a shade of brown, but none were exactly the same.”

  “Let’s revisit that theory and others when we get back to the station. It looks like Lyles is slowing down.”

  We exited the freeway at the ramp and turned right at the lights. Traveling several more blocks down Grange Street took us to Fremont Court.

  “I guess we’re here,” J.T. said as we made a right turn behind Lyles and were immediately stopped by a patrol unit blocking the street. We waited as Lyles spoke to the officer and handed over his badge. The officer clicked his radio and spoke to somebody farther down the street before giving the badge back to Lyles. He moved the barricade aside and waved us through. The sun, peeking over the horizon, was lighting the sky. I was thankful for the daylight. We’d be able to check out the crime scene and evaluate it much better.

  We couldn’t make it to the end of the cul-de-sac, so we exited our vehicles and walked the final hundred feet.

  “Looks like everyone is here,” I said as we got closer. “I hope they’re keeping this off the scanners.”

  The ME and crime lab vehicles filled the driveway, and three squad cars and several cruisers took up the curb space in front of the victim’s house. The yellow tape that wrapped the perimeter of the property flapped in the breeze. A privacy barrier had been erected in front of the body to hide the gruesome scene from curious neighbors. The officers on-site were instructed to keep them away and say nothing.

  Hardy jerked his chin toward the foldout barrier. I had seen and used them plenty of times in my career. Nothing good ever lay beyond those curtains.

  A man who looked like the one in charge at the moment turned toward us and reached for Hardy’s hand. “Captain Hardy.”

  “Mike. Hate to meet up under these circumstances.”

  The man nodded and shook Hardy’s hand. Cap introduced the chief to J.T. and me.

  Joe Torres, the ME, looked up over his shoulder. “Cap.”

  “Joe.”

  We moved in closer and knelt at Joe’s side. “What have we got?” J.T. asked.

  “Dead middle-aged female. Her name is Marilyn LaSota, according to the newspaper delivery guy. All we have so far is that she lived here alone.”

  “What’s your initial assessment?” I asked.

  “Rigor has begun. I’d say she’s been dead at least three hours but not more than seven. Manner of death is the same as the other women—multiple stab wounds to the throat. Strangely enough, she’s been hit in the face with the Taser.”

  The blanket had been pulled down to the woman’s waist, and her nightgown was exposed.

  J.T. spoke up. “She was obviously in bed when he attacked her, hence the sleepwear and blanket. Her face could have been the only area exposed as she slept. What’s with the mark on her cheek?”

  “At the moment it’s only a guess, but I’d say he punched her.” Joe carefully cupped her face and nodded. “Feels like her left cheekbone is broken.”

  I pushed off my knees a
nd stared at the sign in front of me. “J.T., what do you make of that?”

  “He wants to get in people’s heads.” J.T. mumbled a few curse words before reading the sign in a whisper.

  Hatred fills your heart and arrogance spills from your mouth. Innocent blood stains my hands because of it, and in the end, you’ll be forced to swallow your pride.

  J.T. pulled out his cell phone and snapped several pictures. “These words could mean a hundred different things depending on how they’re interpreted. This sign is one more riddle we need to decipher, just like everything else with this case.” He turned to everyone in the yard. “Listen up, people. I don’t want the media to see this sign. They’d have a field day with it, and that’s what the perp wants. He needs to feel in control, to run the show, and that’s why he wrote it. He wants to see his work on TV. We aren’t going to play along. If this sign or any information that didn’t come directly from me or Agent Monroe gets leaked to the media, everyone standing here will answer to the FBI. Got it?”

  A dozen people looked at J.T., nodded, then went about their business.

  I patted J.T.’s shoulder and gave him an eyebrow raise. “All good, partner?”

  “Yeah, sorry, that sounded too threatening.”

  “Nah—cops are tough. Harsh words roll off them like water off a duck. No worries.” I approached Stan Fleet. “How far have you guys gotten?”

  “We’ve photographed everything out here, primarily the victim. Now we’re ready to go into the house. My guys will print all of the doorknobs, windows, and check for forced entry. I’m guessing the perp spent most of his time in the master bedroom. We’ll go over that room thoroughly.” He pointed at the vacant lots in the neighborhood. “Gebhardt’s officers already cleared the yard, and now they’re expanding their search out there.”

  “Okay, I’d like to join you in the house.”

  “Sure thing, Agent Monroe.”

  I jerked my head to get J.T.’s attention. He pocketed his cell phone and crossed the lawn.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m going inside. Just wondering what officer took that newspaper delivery driver’s statement and if the driver is still around.”

  “I’ll check that out. Go ahead with Stan and his team.”

  I walked to the house with Stan, Todd Mills, and Tony Myers. “Which door do you think he used to get inside?”

  Stan stood back and took in the length of the house. He pointed at the side door that led into the garage. “Let’s start with that one. Normally the bedrooms are the farthest distance from the garage. If I were an intruder, common sense would say to gain entry a good distance from the sleeping homeowner’s bedroom.”

  “And the exit point?”

  “He knew where and how he wanted to stage her, so likely the closest door to the sign in the yard.”

  “Makes sense, so that would be the front door.”

  “Correct.”

  We reached the side door, and Stan turned the knob. It popped open.

  “Just as I thought. Either the victim forgot to lock the door or this is how the killer went in. He wouldn’t care about locking the door at his back.” Stan flipped on the interior garage light. “That door should be unlocked too.”

  It was, and we entered the laundry room.

  “Watch your every step. There could be evidence anywhere.”

  “Understood.” I glanced at the floor before I stepped in. “Stan, what’s your take on those tiny pieces of dirt?”

  “Check it out, Todd.”

  “It’s real dirt, boss, like from outside.”

  “Okay, bag it. He could have crossed those vacant lots after all. Good eye, Jade.”

  We passed small pieces of similar looking dirt as we entered the kitchen. The trail, like little bread crumbs, ended before the hallway. “Give me a second. I want to see something.” I crossed the living room to the front door and knelt. “Check it out, Stan. This is where he left his shoes.” Crumbled pieces of dirt lay next to the doormat. “He must have carried them over here so he wouldn’t wake her up. If he had them on, there would be more dirt on the floor.”

  Stan smirked. “You’ve never studied forensic science, huh?”

  “Nah. Common sense, remember?” I gave him a quick smile.

  “Let’s check the master bedroom. We’ll give the house a thorough going-over later, but since the homeowner lived alone, she likely slept in there.”

  I followed the forensic team down the hallway to the last door on the right, which stood wide open.

  Stan gave me a questioning look. “Tell me this, Agent Monroe. Are you someone who sleeps with your bedroom door wide open, halfway closed, or fully closed?”

  “I close my door completely, but we do have a cat and two birds in the house. Without pets, maybe halfway but never fully open.”

  “Most people don’t sleep with the door open. He sneaked in here without waking her, so maybe it was partially open, but he’d have to swing it all the way open if he was carrying her out. We’ll print the entire bedroom door, not just the knob.”

  We stepped into the room and looked around. The only noticeable disturbance was at the bed, where the sheets lay partially on the floor.

  “It doesn’t look like there was any kind of a struggle,” I said.

  “I’m sure there wasn’t. He zapped her then cold-cocked her as soon as he reached the bed. She didn’t have a chance. I just hope the poor woman never woke up before he killed her.”

  “Me too.” I took in a deep breath. “I’ll let you guys get on with your work. I’m going back outside.”

  Stan nodded and began snapping photos.

  Chapter 34

  “Learn anything new since I was out here last?” I approached J.T., Lyles, Gebhardt, and Hardy, who had gathered a few feet from the body.

  Gebhardt spoke up. “We called our tech department and gave them the plate number off her car. Her full name is Marilyn Jane LaSota, age fifty-six. She’s a divorcee and has lived at this house for just over two years.”

  “Hoping to sell after the two-year capital gains time frame?”

  “Maybe. We don’t know who her next of kin is yet. I’m sure there’s a cell phone in the house somewhere, but we’ll get to that soon enough. I don’t want foot traffic in there while Forensics is working.”

  “What about the statement from the newspaper delivery guy?”

  “We took that as soon as the first officers arrived on the scene. He’s going to come into the station and give us his formal written statement once he finishes his route. He was pretty shaken at the time, and I’m actually surprised he could work at all with her image in his mind.”

  Joe Torres joined us. “I’m about to load her up, guys.”

  “Yeah, go ahead. How soon before you have something for us?” Gebhardt asked.

  “I’ll email all of you my findings before five o’clock. I should have enough basic information by then.” Joe called out to the assistant ME. “Let’s get her on the gurney.”

  Stan and his team met up with us in the yard. “I’ll take that blanket and sign back to the lab and go over them with a fine-toothed comb. If I was a lucky man, the paint on the sign would be something unique and easily traced, but in reality, it’s likely just an acrylic base found in any store across the country. Todd and Tony are processing all the doors in the house along with the master bedroom. The dirt Jade noticed is probably from those vacant lots.” Stan pointed beyond the house. “There look to be five or more empty lots on this cul-de-sac. I’d suggest having your officers walk all of them. There could be footprints leading back to where he came from.”

  Gebhardt called several of his men over. “Have you walked every vacant lot?”

  “Only the one on the left side of the house, sir.”

  “Clear all of them. Make sure you’re watching for footprints leading in and out.”

  “We need to get back to the station and figure out this maniac,” J.T. said. “He’s spreading his wings to
different cities, which means nobody is safe.”

  We said goodbye to Chief Gebhardt and exchanged cards with him. I was certain we’d be in close communication with the Bellevue PD until this case was solved.

  Back in the vehicles, we followed Lyles north to the central Omaha police station.

  “Kind of quiet, Jade. What’s on your mind?”

  I shrugged. “Just trying to put the pieces together. We need to decipher that sign and figure out who this man hates so much and why his actions seem to revolve around Scenic View Realty.”

  J.T. gave me a surprised look. “Do you think they’re actually related, or is it only because Scenic View is the largest real estate company in the area?”

  “Who the hell knows? Every murder took place at a house with their For Sale sign in the yard. That can’t be completely coincidental. Like Spelling said, we need to pound the pavement and talk to everyone these victims knew.”

  “Hardy’s guys are already on that. We’ll get their updates once we get back to the station.”

  “What about the news coverage and the tip line? Anything there?”

  “Only what has come in, which isn’t much, and what has aired, which is very broad. Don’t forget, we haven’t given the media a lot of information, only that several murders have taken place, and of course, they know the addresses. They’re loose cannons, Jade, and have already given the killer a moniker. I’m sure he’s totally on board with that. I had an idea I was about to share with you yesterday that got interrupted when Hardy had Tara on Skype.”

  “And that was?”

  “Well, it’s actually something you told me you and the team did when you were trying to find Julie and me.”

  “Go crazy?” I gave J.T. a thoughtful smile. “I don’t ever want to relive that week again.”

  J.T. smirked his response. “Neither do I. Anyway, you said you guys watched street camera footage for days looking for the same vehicle to pass my condo.”

  “Right, the gold Mercedes. There were a lot of repetitive cars, though. People use the same routes to and from work every day. The Mercedes only stood out because it was going suspiciously slow and had limousine-tinted windows.”