Trix

by Kate Morris

  After reading the FBI profiler’s file on the killer they were officially calling the Tooth Fairy, Lorena made notes about the assessment. She agreed with most of it. He was definitely middle-aged, experienced at not being caught, probably married, possibly had kids. He was likely a professional, someone who sometimes traveled for his work and kept up the façade of being a good, law-abiding citizen- other than the minor secret of being a serial killer.

  The FBI had questioned quite a few men, everyone from drifters to ex-boyfriends of victims. None of it panned out, and they were left scratching their heads.

  She sat back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her head. He wasn’t just kidnapping hookers and raping them, then murdering them and dumping their bodies. He was snatching women off the streets that would most likely not go noticed as missing for a while, women who would get into his car with the enticement of money for sex. Then he was taking them somewhere, a safe place that nobody else but him knew about. There he was raping and torturing them for a long time, maybe months before killing them. This was something new for her. She hadn’t seen this in her career. There were the women in Cleveland who were kidnapped and kept in seclusion for years by Ariel Castro. Things like that happened all the time in America, but she hadn’t busted someone like that before. Plus, most of the men who did what Castro did to those young women didn’t go on to murder them. They kept them for years in hiding. They didn’t want to kill them, either. They wanted them alive to serve them.

  None of the suspects in the file matched the profile, either. The FBI had hit a dead-end, which was why Craig was involved and why he called on her and Jack to help. Lorena didn’t know if she was going to be much help on this, though. The best profilers and agents in the country were already working on it. All she knew was that she was going to give it her best effort. More women’s lives were at stake in this. She had to do something, so she made another pot of coffee, crept to Jack’s room again with a fresh mug, and resumed her work.

  Chapter Four

  Jack

  He took Lorena, who he found in his room this morning at six a.m. doing yoga, to his old precinct where he wanted to talk with some friends in Vice and narcotics to see if they could help. As he held the door open for her, Jack noticed that not much had changed since he left. He also observed the many glances of appreciation that Lorena received as she walked past men working at their desks, although she was oblivious.

  “Walker,” he greeted his old friend with a handshake and a smile.

  “Foster!” his friend, Brent Walker, said in return and pulled him in for a hug. “Man, I haven’t talked to you in a while. How’s it going in Cleveland?”

  “Same as here. Chasing bad-guys and such,” he joked and patted his friend’s back. “This is my new partner, Evans. Evans, this is Brent Walker.”

  “Hello,” she said and shook Brent’s hand.

  “Can we talk somewhere, Brent?” Jack asked, watching his friend’s eyes rove over Lorena as she spied around the room checking things out.

  “What? Yeah, sure,” he said and led them to an interrogation room.

  Jack laid out the case, which Brent was already familiar with, and asked his friend for help.

  “I’ve got a few informants down at the shelter that you can talk to. I don’t know if it’ll do any good or not, but you can look ‘em up.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one,” he told his friend at the end of their conversation and stood. Lorena had remained quiet during their talk, but knowing her as Jack did, she was probably solving the case in her mind.

  “Hey, I heard Elizabeth’s in town,” Brent told him. “My sister went to some ritzy thing she was holding downtown, art exhibit charity shit or something like that. She moved back about six or eight months ago. Jen talked to her because she didn’t want to be rude, but she sounded like the same old Elizabeth.”

  This news stopped Jack in his tracks. “What?” he whispered, not wanting Lorena to hear.

  “Yeah, she moved back. Guess he’s running for Attorney General,” Brent said with a scowl of dislike. “Dick.”

  “Yeah. Right. Thanks,” Jack said, hating the monosyllable answers he was giving.

  “Well, you shouldn’t run into them,” he said.

  Jack nodded. “Nah, don’t circulate in the same circles.”

  “Right?” Brent joked and punched Jack’s shoulder playfully. Then he whispered, “Hey, so what’s the deal with your partner? She single?”

  “Don’t bother. She hasn’t figured out that there’s a whole other world out there yet. The job’s her only life.”

  “I could introduce her to some things that aren’t related to work,” Brent hinted.

  Jack laughed heartily, watching Lorena through the open doorway as she perused their wanted fliers tacked on a wall in the main room and chewed on a Twizzler.

  “Good luck with that, brother,” he said and shook Brent’s hand.

  “Hey, check with Terry down in Narcs. He might be able to help you. He made a lot of busts down in that area in the last few months. He’d probably be able to point you in the direction of some other contacts.”

  “Thanks, man,” he said with a nod.

  “Call me while you’re still in town and we’ll meet up for some beers,” Brent said as he walked away with files tucked under his arm. “And bring that cute partner of yours.”

  Jack lifted his chin in a nod toward his friend of many years. Brent had started his career in California and moved to Portland around the same time Jack had. They’d come to the area for very different reasons, though. Brent had been trying to get as far away from his ex as he could, and Jack had taken a promotion. In the end, their roles reversed, and Jack left for Miami to get away from his ex and Brent had stayed and taken a promotion. They’d become good friends quickly and worked quite a few cases together.

  Jack talked with some friends in narcotics and found some information about two of their victims and that they had records for being picked up on drugs before. One of his friends even remembered the younger victim. They chatted a few minutes, but it became clear that the drug angle wasn’t going to get them anywhere. He led Lorena back to their rental car and drove them to the women’s shelter downtown.

  “Hey, kid,” Lorena said into the phone to Grace. “Don’t watch too much t.v. Get some reading time in. You were supposed to finish Crime & Punishment this spring for school, remember?”

  Jack smiled as she talked to her niece about the school schedule, her friends back home, and then lectured her on the dangers of internet predators. Jack could imagine Grace rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone.

  “Well, just don’t go on certain sites when I’m not home with you, young lady,” she dictated in a motherly tone.

  Jack chuckled, but Lorena sent him a deadly glare and kept on going with her niece.

  “Oh, oh, oh, pull over!” Lorena interrupted, placing Grace on hold.

  He stopped at the gas station, and his partner ran through the rain into the store. She emerged a few minutes later with a bag of loot.

  “Yeah, we won’t be late. We’ll order pizzas when I get home,” she said and ended her call with her niece/adopted daughter.

  “What’s in the bag?” he inquired.

  “Coffee for you,” she said, handing him a paper mug. “Red Bull for me.”

  “And?” he asked, knowing her so well.

  “Maybe some candy bars.”

  He grinned and pulled back onto the road.

  “Thanks for the cup o’ Joe.”

  “No prob,” she replied and opened her energy drink. “Look what I found?”

  She held up a small bag of Atomic Fireballs.

  Jack turned to her and said, “Good Lord. Get any sleep last night?”

  “Nope. Not a wink,” she replied.

  “Find anything interesting on this guy?”

  “He’s known as the Tooth Fairy. Even the press out here is referring to him like that. Kinda’ creepy.”
r />   “Yeah, I read that, too,” he admitted.

  Lorena sighed heavily.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I think this guy is lonely.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, he’s lonely. He’s a pathetic loser.”

  “Who also happens to be killing women left and right without a care in the world.”

  “Uh-huh, I get that, but I think he’s keeping them somewhere for an extended period of time, maybe months before killing them.”

  “That is interesting,” he said. “I don’t remember reading that in the profile.”

  “It’s not there. It’s just a theory I’ve got. There is long-term bruising and also multiple healed scars on their wrists and ankles. The medical examiner mentioned them, but someone must’ve missed it. I think he keeps them until they either displease him or maybe try to escape or he grows bored of them.”

  “So, maybe we should be working missing women cases instead right now.”

  “That’s a good idea actually. Plus, did you notice the clothing they all had on when they were found?”

  “Not really,” he said, sipping the hot coffee as the wipers beat out a rhythmic cadence against the windshield. “Just looked like normal women’s clothing to me.”

  “Yes, but they were all wearing longer or long-ish dresses,” she explained, flipping open a file. “See? Long dresses. Someone mentioned it in one of these reports. I don’t remember where. Anyway, I think he’s dressing them in these dresses.”

  “Think he’s making them up to look like his fantasy or something?”

  She shook her head and took a swig of her Red Bull. “No, I think he’s trying to make them look like someone in particular.”

  “His mother. Like your average, everyday Norman Bates type of weirdo?”

  Lorena shrugged. “Maybe. These outfits, the long dresses worn with bobby socks, they seem old-fashioned. None of these women would’ve worn stuff like that. Some were prostitutes. Others were homeless girls. They don’t wear clothing like that at all. I mean, unless they were going for the Little House on the Prairie look. They wear provocative clothing or clothing that would keep them warm on the streets at night.”

  “True,” he agreed with a nod. “Although, the Little House on the Prairie clothes might be hot, too.”

  “Shut it,” she replied with an eye roll before biting into her donut.

  “Candy bars weren’t enough?” he criticized.

  “Those are for later, Foster. You have to plan this stuff out. An apocalypse could hit and I’d only have candy bars,” she said through a mouthful of sugar. “Stop judging me.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t want our police force’s insurance premiums to go up to pay for your diabetes medicine.”

  “Pie hole it,” she said.

  “Good Lord, you’re starting to sound like Grace.”

  “You mean super cool?”

  He nodded and smirked, “Sure, that’s it exactly.”

  “Who’s Elizabeth?” she asked out of the blue as she flipped through a file and blobbed cream filling from her donut onto it. “Crap.”

  He watched as she tried to clean her mess with a napkin and hoped she’d forget her question.

  “So? Who is she?”

  Jack sighed. Of course, she wouldn’t forget. Lorena never forgot anything. “The ex-wife.”

  “Oh,” she said without emotion. “You don’t want to see her?”

  “Not particularly. We didn’t exactly part as friends.”

  “Most people don’t when they get divorced. It’s kind of why they aren’t still married.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly. “I wouldn’t have figured that out on my own. You just saved me thousands on therapy. As a matter of fact, you’d make a great detective.”

  She slugged his arm.

  “You better not get your junk food on my jacket,” he warned and turned left through the blinding rain. This wasn’t something he missed about Portland. As much humidity as Cleveland had, Portland had the same in the form of rain. Of course, it didn’t get the shitty snows that Cleveland did. The Gulf Coast of Florida had seemed awfully nice. He’d like to go back there, maybe retire there. Not Miami, though. He hadn’t liked the weather down there too well, or the city, or the high crime.

  “Afraid you’re gonna’ gain a pound, Foster?” she teased.

  “You won’t think I’m sexy anymore if I do.”

  She scoffed and said, “I don’t now, so you have nothing to worry about. You’re literally starting at zero.”

  “Ouch,” he remarked jokingly. “I’m pouring out my heart to you about my nasty divorce, and you just kicked my ego in the crotch.”

  “Wear a cup. I don’t know what to tell you,” she advised light-heartedly.

  “Let’s get back to the case,” he suggested. “We need to help the locals and go home to Cleveland.”

  “No kidding,” she remarked, looking out at the rain as he drove.

  “So, you think he kidnaps, rapes, murders and redresses the women before dumping them.”

  “Yep, and he pulls one tooth from each victim.”

  “Nice,” he said with sarcasm. “I missed that. Not all of us read the entire case files for each victim. Some people need sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  “Might be sooner rather than later with the way you eat.”

  “Better than falling asleep on the job,” she said with implication.

  Jack ignored her jab and said, “What else have you got, Evans?”

  “Well, I think he takes them to the water for a reason,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Each of the victims has been found near water- either a stream, lake, river, whatever.”

  “And you think that’s no accident?”

  Lorena shook her head and said, “I don’t think anything he does is an accident. He’s been doing this for a long time, way longer than the few victims that the authorities have found and linked. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was bi-coastal or worked a much broader radius than what they’ve pinpointed.”

  “Could be, but we’ve definitely got him pinned down to these murders. I still can’t believe they don’t have a latent fingerprint, tire print, nothing.”

  “He’s not an idiot. He’s never going to make a mistake like that. He’s a professional serial killer. He’s old enough to have honed his craft by now. He blends in with society, pays his taxes, has sex with the wife twice a week, takes Timmy to soccer practice…”

  “Only twice a week? Pretty sad marriage,” Jack commented.

  Lorena hit him with a frown, “Seriously? That’s all you got out of that?”

  “It seemed like the most important part.”

  “Whatever. Like I’d know how often is normal.”

  “True. You may be a virgin again. Sure you don’t want me to fix you up with my friend back there at the precinct?”

  This time her scowl turned to something of disgust because she wrinkled her nose as Jack pulled into the women’s shelter.

  “I’ll take my chances on my own, thank you very much,” she said as she stuffed the files into a messenger bag and left it on the back seat.

  “Yeah, that’s really working out so great for you,” he teased.

  “And it has for you? Gimme’ a break, Foster,” she came right back on him. “Your sisters have been trying to set you up with that one woman….who was it? The one Aislinn was trying to set you up with?”

  “A teacher or something. I don’t know. You know my sisters well enough to know that I’d never let them choose someone for me.”

  “Why not? Your sisters are great.”

  Jack snorted, “Get real. I’d be nuts to let them fix me up with someone. We’re an Irish Catholic family. They’d expect a kid every year if I got married.”

  “Did they pressure you like that when you were married?” she asked and finished off her RedBull.

  He swung the car int
o an open spot near the front door and ignored her question. That was too personal to discuss. They went in and spoke to the director of the shelter. Lorena was mostly quiet again and let him do the questioning. It wasn’t helpful. They didn’t get any answers from the woman and ended up leaving twenty minutes later with disappointment instead of clarity.

  “There’s a meeting in about an hour,” he told her, reading his text when they reached the car. “Craig said we should be there. I think he wants you there for sure. I’m just arm candy.”

  “FBI? Great,” she said with sarcasm.

  “Why? Don’t like them?”

  Lorena shrugged and said, “No, it’s not that. They just don’t usually like working with me, is all. Or at least that’s the impression I get.”

  “It’s just because you’re so young,” he told her. Jack had seen the looks from some of the men in Craig’s office in Cleveland. Lorena was right. He was pretty sure they didn’t like her, but it wasn’t because of the reason he just gave her. Maybe some of it was that, but it was also because Lorena was smarter than most of them, and they knew it.

  “Maybe,” she said, opening a can of Coke this time. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “So, you scored a one-forty-five on your I.Q. test, huh?”

  “And you were married,” she remarked, knocking him off balance. “See that, Foster? We both have things we don’t want to talk about.”

  “My marriage was an abysmal failure. Having a high I.Q. is not a bad thing or something to be ashamed of.”

  Lorena snorted and said, “Tell that to the other kids in school who teased me and called me a dork all the time.”

  “I can beat them up when we get back to Cleveland.”

  Jack was joking but noticed that Lorena didn’t laugh.

  “I didn’t grow up in Cleveland,” she told him.

  He glanced at her and then back at the traffic in front of them, “Oh, I thought you were a native. Where’d you grow up?”

  “Why’d your marriage fall apart?”

  “Got it,” he said and drove them the rest of the way in silence.