by Elle Gray
“He said that he knew about our connection. Our relationship,” she says. “He said he knows I’ve been feeding you information about our cases.”
I swallow hard, knowing just how intimidating and vindictive Torres can be. Rebekah isn’t used to that sort of thing—she’s just not that kind of person—which is why she’s freaking out right now.
“What did you say?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t say anything. What could I say? He’s not wrong.”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
“It sounds like he does to me,” she replies. “He said he’ll arrest me if he catches me doing it again. I don’t want to go to jail.”
“He’s blowing smoke, Beks,” I tell her. “He has absolutely nothing. What’s more, I don’t think he can arrest you for providing information to the Bureau. He’s just trying to intimidate you. Scare you.”
“Yeah well, he did a pretty good job of it.”
I nod. “He can be very forceful and intimidating.”
I tell her the story of him pulling me over and everything that happened. She listens, completely aghast. And when I’m done, she shakes her head.
“God, I hate bullies,” she mutters.
“You and me both,” I nod. “He’s got nothing, and he knows it. If he were going to arrest you, he would have. He wouldn’t have given you warning about it first.”
She frowns but nods, the logic getting through to her. Rebekah takes a bite of her pastry and chews on it for a long moment as I watch a myriad of emotions scrolling across her face. I really don’t want to cut off the information pipeline, but I know that I don’t want Rebekah getting tossed out of the ME’s office even more. Torres might not be able to arrest her like he’s threatening to do, but he can certainly move against her to make her job hell—or even get her fired.
“Listen, I don’t want you getting caught up in all of this garbage,” I tell her. “So, I understand if you want to get out of the information-sharing business. No sweat all.”
It’s a lie. It would be a hardship without eyes and ears in the ME’s office. But I’ll get by. I always do. More than anything, I just don’t want Rebekah to be collateral damage in this little behind-the-scenes war I’m having with Torres.
She thinks on it for a moment and shakes her head. “Maybe we just need to be a little more circumspect,” she offers. “Maybe you shouldn’t come into the ME’s office like you’re storming the Bastille.”
My mouth falls open, shocked. “I do not come into the ME’s office like that.”
“Oh, you so totally do sometimes.”
We share a laugh, but I let out a silent breath of relief knowing that she’ll continue to slip me the information I need.
“I propose that when we need to pass information back and forth, we meet here,” I say. “It’s out of the way, quiet, and I’m sure Torres’ guys would stick out like a sore thumb here.”
She nods. “That’s true. It’s kind of an insular little community around here. It’s one reason I like it.”
“Listen, Rebekah. I don’t want you doing something you’re not comfortable doing,” I tell her. “If you want to stop, I have no problem with that.”
“Are you eventually going to take Torres down?”
“I hope so. I’m hoping I can build a case,” I reply.
“Then I’ll keep passing you information. Mostly because I want to be around when you drop the hammer on him.”
I laugh. “And here I thought I had the market cornered on vindictiveness.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please, I’ve got you beat in that department, hands down.”
“Yeah, if you say so.”
Rebekah reaches down into her bag and pulls out a thick file then slides it across the table to me. I look at it for a moment, unsure if I should take it. I don’t want to get Rebekah into any more trouble than I’ve already caused her.
“That’s the tox screen and the official report,” she says. “Everything you need for Summer Kennedy.”
“I thought the tox screen wasn’t coming back for a while yet?”
She shrugs. “Somebody called down and made it happen. I’m guessing Torres. He’s one of the few who have the juice to make it happen.”
“But why, is my question? Why jump the line for this case?” I ask.
“That is an answer I do not have, my friend.”
“And you haven’t seen any other bodies that came in like Summer’s?”
“Babe, I see bodies come through that are all torn up in a lot of different ways,” she replies.
“But the torture—the shallow cuts and cigarette burns,” I clarify. “Seen any with those markers lately?”
She frowns. “I haven’t.”
“Well, we’ll start with this,” I say and tap the file. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Sure you can,” she says with a grin. “Buy me a scone to go.”
“Comin’ right up,” I reply.
Sixteen
Criminal Data Analysis Unit; Seattle Field Office
“So, Torres is coming after Rebekah now,” Astra says after I’ve filled her in on my meet with Rebekah this morning.
“He’s trying to get at us any way he can,” I say with a shrug.
“He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.”
“He’s a piece of garbage,” Mo adds.
“He is that for sure,” I nod. “Anyway, we got the case file, and based on the stomach contents, it looks like our unsub kept her for a least a night.”
“Makes sense. He’d want maximum time to dole out the punishment,” Astra notes.
I nod. “And we also got the tox screen back.” I toss the file Rebekah gave me onto Astra’s desk, where it lands with a hard thump. “Ketamine.”
“What about it?” Astra asks.
“It was found in Summer Kennedy’s system,” I answer.
Everybody whistles low in unison, like they rehearsed it, drawing a laugh from me. I pace before the monitors at the front of the bullpen and process everything we know so far. Which sadly, isn’t all that much. But it’s enough to give us a start. And knowing that the killer used ketamine to subdue her gives us a pretty good data point to add to the list.
“Okay, so what do we know about ketamine?” I ask.
“It’s a pretty powerful sedative,” Mo says. “They use it to help keep patients anesthetized. It’s also supposed to help with OCD, so it’s often prescribed.”
“And because it can produce a near trance-like state, it’s sold on the streets. I heard it’s a popular party favor for students these days,” Astra says.
“Nice. Not sure a party with a house full of people in a stupor is exactly my idea of a good time, but that’s just me,” I comment. “So, who can purchase ketamine?”
“Doctors, obviously,” Astra says. “And of course, anybody with a prescription.”
“Veterinarians can buy it as well,” Mo adds.
“Actually, you don’t need a prescription anymore. You can buy it online pretty cheaply and easily,” Rick chimes in. “Or so I’ve heard… from friends.”
“That’s lovely,” she replies. “A generation of kids who can easily buy drugs that turn them into zombies. What could possibly go wrong with that?”
“All right, how many of these online stores sell it?” I ask.
“There are only three major websites that ship into Seattle,” Rick replies.
“Wow. Your friends sure do know a lot,” Astra says.
Rick coughs and looks away, unable to meet my eyes, making me laugh. “Okay Rick, get in touch with these online retailers to see if they can give us a list of customers. Exclude doctors and veterinarians for now,” I tell him. “Right now, I want to look for end-users.”
“I’ll give it a shot, but these people are touchy about the privacy of their customers. We may have a hard time getting the names,” he says.
“Just tell them if they don’t cooperate, you’ll take your considerable business elsewh
ere,” Astra offers with a grin.
“Right. Okay, Mo, start working on getting a warrant,” I say. “Rick, are any of these online stores headquartered here in Seattle?”
Rick turns back to his screen and his fingers flurry on the keyboard.
“Just one,” he answers.
“Okay, we’re going to focus on that one for now,” I say. “Give Mo the pertinent details so she can draft the paper.”
“You got it, boss,” he nods.
“Also, we need to add ketamine to the parameters of what we’re searching for,” I say. “Rick, expand that search. Caucasian women. College-aged. Torture and ketamine.”
“No sweat.”
“Any word from that ride-hailing company?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. They’re slow-walking it, even with a warrant.”
I nod, having expected that. Online companies are loath to give up their client lists. They hold onto their names like they’re gold for as long as they can—even in the face of a murder. On one hand, I get it. They want to protect their clients. It makes sense. On the other, we’re not some random person looking. We’re the FBI and we’re trying to stop people from being murdered. You think they’d get that and would help us out.
“What are you going to do?” Astra asks.
“I’m going to talk to Fish.”
“And who is Fish?”
“If you ever need to know who’s dealing what out in the streets, you talk to Fish,” I say. “And you never deal out in the streets without the blessing of Fish.”
Astra grins. “Let me guess, Fish gets a cut of every deal out there?”
“It’s true. And when you’re a legend like him, you get away with it.”
“I’ve never heard of this guy,” Mo says. “How is it that this guy is a legend?”
“Because he did some things back in the day that cemented that status,” I say.
“Allegedly,” adds Astra.
I laugh because it’s true. “He was tried six different times,” I say. “He was acquitted six different times.”
“Weak cases?” Mo asks.
“More like bought and paid for judges and jurors,” Astra says.
“The guy didn’t take chances and covered all his bases. He’s smart, crafty, and does not take no for an answer. He’s ruthless. Or rather, he was. Now, he’s living the high life of a retired man. Semi-retired, anyway. And yet the street thugs continue to pay tribute to him. Because if they don’t, they know the consequences. Fish may be kind of retired, but he’s still the leader of a ruthless army.”
“Comforting,” Astra remarks. “And how is it exactly that you know this notorious outlaw?
“Let’s just say our paths have crossed a few times over my career,” I offer with a laugh.
A chime sounds from my phone so I slipped it out of my pocket and felt my heart sink. I sighed and looked up.
“Body dropped,” I announce.
“Great,” Astra mutters.
“Okay, Fish is going to have to wait. Astra, you’re with me,” I say. “Rick and Mo, can you start tackling your to-do list? We’ve got a little bit of steam up and I want to keep it rolling.”
“Aye Aye, Cap’n,” Rick responds with a salute for good measure.
Mo rolls her eyes. “I’m on it, boss.”
“Thanks, guys. Keep up the great work.”
I turn and head for the door, Astra by my side. It's strange in that for knowing so little right now, I feel like we’re at the point of the case where the momentum is starting to build. It feels to me like events are picking up steam and are starting to move faster. Or at least, we’re not at a complete standstill anymore.
There’s still so much we don’t know and so many different moving parts right now, but it feels to me like some of the boxes are starting to fill in. And that feeling always puts a charge in my belly.
Seventeen
Perry V. Wilson Memorial Park; Seattle WA
“So, you get alerts when a body drops now?” Astra asks. “Kind of morbid, don’t you think? I mean, the only way you could take your work home with you any more would be to bring the actual body back to your place.”
I laugh. “It’s a prototype of an app Brody developed,” I tell her. “It uses the software that monitors police bands, interprets the codes, and voila, I get a message telling me where it’s at and some of the basic details, like whether it’s natural causes or a homicide.”
“Wow. That’s actually pretty ingenious. And where did he come up with an idea like that?” she asks.
“It was my idea. I asked him a while back to see if it was even possible,” I tell her. “I got tired of the SPD freezing us out and wanted to know when they got calls for homicides. It sure beats having to rely on tips or gathering information after the fact, doesn’t it?”
She nods, looking quite impressed. I give myself a mental pat on the back for having had the idea in the first place. When I pitched it, Brody wasn’t sure he could pull it off, but he sent it to me last night and this first test drive worked like a charm. But we won’t know for certain until we get to the crime scene. If there is one. As morbid as it sounds, I’m hoping this isn’t a call out for a fender bender or a death of natural causes. I’m tired of Torres having the jump on us and want to get ahead of him.
We badge the cops working the barricade and pull the sawhorses aside, allowing us to drive into the parking lot. As with the last scene, there is a double barricade, but minimal emergency response vehicles. It’s odd that the scene is set up in this way again.
“I guess Torres thinks if they don’t call attention to it, maybe people just won’t notice the brutal murder in a public park?” Astra gives voice to my thoughts without me even having to say anything.
“That must be it. But at least we know Brody’s app works,” I shrug. “This is, in fact, a crime scene.”
“Hooray for silver linings.”
We park next to one of the squad cars, then make our way to the second set of yellow tape that’s been strung across the entrance to the park. We badge the cops at the tape, and he holds it up, allowing us to slip under it and head further inside. Trees and bushes are scattered all around through the park. A little way to our left is a large open field where people gather to play soccer or football, or what have you. There’s also a playground set about fifty yards off to our right with swings, monkey bars, a merry-go-round, and other equipment. Beyond that another twenty-five yards or so is a workout station. It sits just off one of the running trails. I know from having used this park to work out before, there are half a dozen more workout stations along the path.
We follow the concrete trail we’re on through the trees and bushes and find ourselves standing at the edge of a small pond. It’s fed on one end by a swift-moving stream and flows out through a small channel that had been cut a while back to keep the pond from overflowing its banks. It keeps the water in the lake circulating so it doesn’t get stagnant and become a breeding ground for mosquitos.
Unlike the pond at McGeary, this is in a wide-open space. Trees ring the water, but they stand back about twenty yards from the edge of it. Out in the middle of the pond is a large concrete fountain that shoots water ten feet into the air, along with smaller jets encircling it shooting water half that high.
It’s a popular place. People come every day to wade and play in the water, or play with radio-controlled boats and drones. I seem to recall them even holding tournaments here. Boys and their toys.
I follow Astra over to where they’re fishing the girl out of the water. We’re standing about fifteen feet away as they haul her up to the laid-out body bag and gently set her down. Once the divers step away, Astra and I walk over to the body to do a quick external examination.
The girl’s blue eyes are wide open, glazed over in death. Her blonde hair shimmers like gold over her delicate bone structure. I’m immediately struck by how much she looks just like Summer Kennedy. She had been a beautiful girl in life.
An
d also, like Summer Kennedy, she was tortured. Cuts and puncture marks litter her body. It seems like there are even more than what had covered Summer’s body. Same for the cigarette burns. They’re everywhere. She’s bruised and beaten to hell, and judging by the awkward angle her right arm is protruding, the monster who took her broke it. And like Summer Kennedy, there are distinct finger-shaped bruises around her throat.
“This is just pure rage,” Astra mutters. “This is a man who does not like women.”
“Or one particular woman,” I reply softly. “Notice how alike this one looked to Summer Kennedy?”
“This one would be Serena Monroe.”
We turn at the sound of his voice to find Detective TJ Lee standing behind us with a nervous look on his face.
“Are you all right, Detective?” I ask.
“What are you two doing here?” he asks, his jaw clenched and flexing.
“Investigating a crime scene,” I reply. “You know, our jobs?”
“How did you guys even know we had a body drop out here this morning?”
“There’s apparently an app for that,” Astra says and chuckles at her own wit.
I have to fight to keep myself from laughing along. It’s not appropriate to the time or current setting and I need to maintain a professional demeanor.
He ignores her, his eyes laser-focused on me. “Seriously, you can’t be here right now.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I can,” I reply. “This is an active crime scene, we are both law enforcement—”
“No, it’s not that. It’s Torres. He’s here, and if he sees you, he’s going to lose it. You’re like his newest obsession and the man is on a warpath, determined to make your life a living hell. Seriously, for your own sake, you guys should get out of here,” Lee implores us.
“Too late,” Astra mutters.
I lean around Lee’s body to see Torres coming our way with all the delicacy and grace of a charging bull. I glance over at Astra and grin.
“Got a red cape by chance?” I ask.
“Sadly no, it’s in my other coat. As is my espada,” she says, referring to the ceremonial bullfighter’s sword. “I really, really wish I had that right now.”
