Ripped in Red

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Hmm.” Colin leaned back in his chair. “It’s possible the killer deleted most of the messages. The question is why?”

  “Do you think she was a random target?” Cassidy didn’t think so. Instinct told her she knew her killer, at least for a short while before her death. Who in Clear Springs would want the beautiful dead? Someone tormented by them?

  “I don’t think so, and I don’t think she met that person while she was wearing that red gown, either. I’m still puzzled as to why she had only one shoe. Do you think her killer took the other as a souvenir?” Colin stared out the small office window. “Are there any modeling agencies around here?”

  Cassidy shook her head and reached for yesterday’s newspaper. “Find someone to get us a copy of every paper printed this week. Maybe our killer placed an advertisement that Amber couldn’t resist.”

  She watched him leave the room. Colin was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, towering over her five foot three frame by a foot. His eyes, a starburst of dark and light blue, oh, yes, she had noticed, pierced through to her soul while having the ability to soften and console grieving parents.

  What was God thinking to make such a man her partner? Cassidy needed to focus on her job. She glanced at the framed photo of her mother, murdered in cold blood ten years before. She needed to bring her mother’s killer to justice. Her case had been cold for too long. Cassidy sighed. She was no closer to solving the death today then she was on her first day as a cop.

  “A very distraught mother brought this in.” Laura, the over-worked receptionist of the tiny police office set a sheet of lined paper on Cassidy’s desk. “She said you were waiting for it.”

  “Thank you.” Cassidy scanned the paper. On it was five names. Written across the top was the heading “Amber’s friends”. Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. At least now they had a place to start.

  “Here are the newspapers.” Colin dropped them on her desk and leaned over her shoulder.

  Her senses went into overdrive at his musky cologne. “Ah, the friends.”

  “Yes.” She handed him the list and reached for a paper, flipping to the classifieds.

  On the third paper, Wednesday’s edition, she found the first clue to help them solve Amber’s murder. “Colin, listen… Needed. A beautiful woman to act as model for evening gown advertisement. Audition in person at …” She read off the address. “That’s a warehouse by the river. Let’s go.” She grabbed her holster from the back of her chair and dashed from the building, followed closely by Colin.

  He snatched the keys from her hand, flashing her a wide smile. “I’ll drive.”

  She rolled her eyes and changed direction to the front passenger seat. It was her jeep. She should be the one driving. “Don’t do that again,” she said, fastening her seatbelt.

  “I don’t like being the passenger.”

  “Neither do I.” She glared to show him she meant business, then stared out the window as he drove from the parking lot.

  “Don’t pout.”

  She whipped back to face him. “I don’t pout.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Whatever.” Having him as her partner was going to be a job in itself. She needed to get him trained, and soon. Her last partner had been more than happy to let her call the shots.

  “It looks deserted.” Colin cut the ignition.

  “It’s most likely a dead end, but we have to check it out.” Cassidy unholstered her weapon and pushed open her door.

  “I’ll enter first.” Colin held out his hand. “Please.”

  She stared into his face, noting a shadow of pain flicker across his eyes. Chivalry, and something else, was alive and well in Arkansas.

  Guns held at the ready, they approached a metal door to the side of a larger rolling door. Cassidy gave Colin a nod as he turned the door handle. The door swung open with a groan.

  Colin took a deep breath and stepped in. Cassidy followed, then moved to his side.

  As suspected, the warehouse was devoid of life. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous room. In a far corner draped a curtain. A tripod lay on its side. The type of lights used by photographers were placed around the photography area. Footprints marred the dust.

  Cassidy squinted, making out something pinned to the backdrop. She moved closer. A photo of a smiling, posing Amber wearing the dress they’d found her in was taped there. The killer had lured the girl here, then taken her to the woods and murdered her. “I doubt he’ll use this place again.”

  “You think he plans on killing again?” Colin slid his gun into its holster.

  “I know he will.” She reached a trembling hand toward the photo. “I’ve seen his setup before.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

  “This is the same man that murdered my mother.”

  In the case files were crime scene photos of this exact scene, but in a different location. Always beautiful, Cassidy’s mother had gone undercover as a model to catch a man who preyed on women who loved the camera. He’d never been caught.

  ~

  “I’ll get your bag out of the car. We need to process the scene.” Colin jogged outside, giving Cassidy a few minutes to compose herself. He had a lot of questions that needed answers, but they would wait. He pulled her aluminum case from the trunk. By the time he joined her, she stood ramrod straight, her features composed.

  She took the case from him and got to work. Colin was perceptive if nothing else. She still needed time. He was fine with it.

  While she snapped pictures of the scene, he squatted next to the footprints. They weren’t looking for a small man. The prints were as large as the ones Colin left, putting the unsub at six feet tall, at least. He’d read Cassidy’s file. He was familiar with her mother’s case. How had the murderer escaped capture for so many years?

  He straightened. “Do you think that perhaps the unsub doesn’t live in Clear Springs? Maybe he returns for an anniversary of some kind.”

  Cassidy glanced his way. “Since my mother, we haven’t had anything like this happen again until now. That was ten years ago.”

  “There has to be a trigger. A killer doesn’t stay dormant for ten years, then kill again unless something pulled him out.” He stared at Cassidy. “You just had a birthday.”

  “Yeah, so?” She slid her camera back in her case, then jerked upright. “I’m the same age my mother was when she died. You think I’m the trigger? The target?”

  He scanned the loose pants and baggy blouse she wore. “You’re beautiful enough, but other than that, you don’t fit the profile of his victims. That’s why you downplay your looks. Because your mother was killed for hers.”

  “How I dress is no concern of yours.” She headed for the door.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” He moved in front of her.

  “Move.” She shoved past him. Her actions were answer enough.

  Colin strung crime scene tape across the warehouse entrances before joining Cassidy at the jeep. He wanted to press for information; make her see he was right. And, if he was, she was in grave danger. The killer could be coming after her.

  She slid behind the steering wheel and gave him a defiant look. Fine, he’d let her drive, but they were not finished with their discussion.

  “Let’s grab something to eat before visiting the people on the friends list.”

  “A burger okay?”

  “Sounds great.” He settled in and kept his mouth shut for the next fifteen minutes. They would be spending a lot of time together. He’d get the answers he wanted…in time.

  “Bill’s has the best burgers.” Cassidy stopped in front of a barn-like building.

  Colin’s stomach rumbled. Dives usually had the best food, and he’d skipped breakfast. He slid from the jeep and held the diner door open. Once Cassidy was relaxed with good food, he’d grill her for more information. If she remained tight-lipped, he’d spend some more time immersed in her mother’s cold case.

  A waitress led them to a booth in front of
a large plate-glass window. Colin waited until Cassidy was seated, then slid across from her. He pretended to peruse the menu when he actually studied her.

  The vibrant red hair, dark green eyes, straight nose and full lips. Even without makeup and her hair sloppily piled on top of her head, she was stunning. If she were the target, why had the unsub killed Amber? Why not go after Cassidy years ago after killing her mother?

  “You know the unsub.” He dropped the menu on the table.

  She sighed. “I’ve thought so, too, but can’t think of a single person who wanted my mother dead.” She shook her head. “She went undercover to find the person killng models. That’s where she met him. I don’t think he’s a family friend.”

  “Did you meet anyone new while she was undercover?”

  “I don’t think so. I was fifteen years old.” She raised cold eyes to him. “I have no idea whether my mother brought her work home with her. There wasn’t a parade of men coming through our home.”

  He held up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  “I didn’t take unnecessary offense.” She stiffened. “Mom never brought anyone home. She said all she needed was me and her job. I don’t think I’ve met the killer.”

  The waitress arrived to take their orders, thus giving him a few moments to rethink his direction of questioning. After they both ordered cheeseburger meals, he rested his arms on the table and kept his gaze locked on Cassidy’s face. His best intense stare usually worked on those he questioned.

  Cassidy rolled her eyes. “Cut it out. I can give that look with the best of them.”

  He laughed and straightened. “I’m only trying to help you. It’s quite possible that, by solving Amber’s murder, we also solve your mother’s.”

  “That would be convenient.”

  “You’re a prickly gal, aren’t you? I’m not the enemy, you know.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry. I spent three years of my life in foster care. I don’t trust easily.”

  “And I come across a bit strong.”

  “A bit.” Her eyes softened, the corners of her mouth easing into a smile. “I’ll try and think harder about who I might know. That’s all I can promise.”

  “That’s all I ask. That you don’t discount the possibility that your mother angered someone badly enough that they would resurface, and possibly be coming after you.”

  ~

  He stared at the ten faces in front of him and smiled. Not one of them could be considered goodlooking. One or two mildly attractive, maybe. All had responded to his post on a hard-to-find chat room and a personal ad in the newspaper about being mistreated by those whom society looked upon favorably. After a period of testing, he would find his worthy followers. Outcasts willing to help him in his quest.

  “All of those who have ridiculed us, beaten us down, bullied us because they deem themselves better than us based upon our looks must be dealt with.” He ran a finger down the scar that ran from his right eye to his mouth. “They must pay for their crimes against us. If you do not have the stomach for revenge, you are free to go. Now.”

  One man, slight in build, stood. “I thought this was a support group. Sorry, but this isn’t for me.” He glanced around the room. “May God have mercy on all of you.” He spun and almost ran from the room.

  Draco, the name he had given himself, the name for Dragon, laughed. The man had made his choice and would be dealt with later. The dragon left no witnesses. Made no excuses for his plans. He definitely didn’t call upon a God who had cursed him in love.

  “Is there anyone else who feels that my quest is unjust? Is there anyone else willing to remain in the shadow of conceit and be stomped upon? If so, leave now. Once you begin your training, the only way out is through the fire of my wrath. I have designed special coats with colors of protection once you have proven yourselves worthy.” He motioned to leather jackets hanging on the wall. “There is a gold bowl on the stand in front of me. Write on slips of paper all those who have wronged you and they will be dealt with. Everything you need to start over afterward is in the packet under your seat.”

  The remaining nine, seven men and two women, stayed seated, their faces a mixture of hope and the desire for revenge. Once Draco finished with them, they would all want those who had tormented them to die, and he would help them. They would love him. He would become their hero.

  3

  Cassidy poured coffee from the pitcher into a mug and handed it to Colin. If they started pursuing the track of the unsub being the same person who murdered her mother, they might miss a clue leading to who killed Amber. She couldn’t risk that. The poor girl deserved justice. Still, the lure of finding her mother’s killer…

  “I can practically see the wheels turning in your head.” Colin leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” Cassidy took her seat and rifled through the few envelopes on her desk. With her and Colin as the only two police officers in town, some days the mail piled up. She’d once tried to have the receptionist wade through it, but some of the darker “fan” mail they received sent the poor woman into fits.

  She spotted a plain white envelope with the address being glued on letters from a magazine. “Got something.”

  After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, she slit the envelope with a letter opener. “It’s a poem” The yellowed page signified the sender had ripped it from an old book.

  By Lord Byron

  Colin peered over her shoulder. “He has seen through your attempts to hide how attractive you are.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” She slid the page into a bag and yanked off her gloves. “I simply find it easier to wear comfortable clothes and have a non-fussy hairstyle.”

  “No, you’re definitely hiding.” He perched on the corner of her desk. “Now, me…I choose to embrace my handsomeness.” A dimple winked near the right corner of his mouth. “People tend to talk to those who make an effort.”

  Cassidy rolled her eyes and tore her gaze away from lips that looked as if they would kiss with little provocation. She didn’t scare easily, but ice ran through her veins. Would the unsub come after her or was the poem nothing more than a note from an admirer? Could it be that the killer admired Cassidy’s way of downplaying her looks or was he toying with her?

  Yes, she tried to hide how pretty she was, despite her saying otherwise. Beauty had gotten her mother killed. Now, possibly the same man was bent on erasing more beautiful women from the earth. Downplaying her looks helped her get the job done. She definitely didn’t need the distraction of admiring glances from men while women were dying.

  “We need to send this to the lab in Little Rock.” She handed the bag containing the poem to Colin. “I doubt they’ll find anything, but we can always hope.”

  Something that seemed in short supply lately. Hope. It had done nothing for her mother, a devout churchgoer, nor Cassidy’s father who had died when she was too young to remember him. The song phrase that only the good die young ran through her head.

  The phone rang. She answered it as Colin left the room. “Officer Monroe.”

  “Detective?” Laura’s voice wavered. “You have a call on line one. Some hikers found another body.”

  “Thank you, Laura. I’ll take it.”

  She pressed the button on the phone for line one. “Officer Monroe.” She listened as a very excited woman explained how she and her girlfriend were hiking and stumbled across a woman tied to a tree. Hanging up, Cassidy grabbed her shoulder holster and dashed off to find her partner.

  “Colin, we’ve got another one.” She raced past where he leaned over the receptionist desk, flirting as usual. What would it be like to be so sure of oneself? By the time he joined her, she was behind the wheel of her jeep with the engine running.

  He slid into the passenger seat and clicked his seatbelt into place. “You know, my truck is newer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Another one in two days?�
��

  “We don’t know it’s the same guy.” She turned onto Main Street and headed for the popular hiking trail on the mountain. “And I prefer my jeep.”

  He shrugged. “Not yet, but we’ll see that it is.”

  “Are you always this sure of yourself?”

  “Always.” He cut her a sideways glance.

  She wished she were. Cassidy was a good detective, she’d been told so many times, but still that niggling in the back of her mind told her she wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for her mother to stay alive, not good enough to have found a permanent family after her death, and now…what if she weren’t good enough to catch a potential serial killer?

  She parked the jeep alongside the hiking trail and cast a glance at two hysterical women who approached at a run. She took a step back.

  “I’ll take care of this.” Colin grinned and motioned for the women to step beside the jeep.

  “Thank you.” Calming distraught people was not anywhere close to the top of things Cassidy was good at. She opened the back of the jeep and grabbed her crime scene case.

  With one last look at Colin, who had managed to find bottles of water somewhere and offered them to the women, she headed down the trail. Sunlight filtered through tree tops, giving the illusion of a perfect autumn day. The body tied to a tree belied that fact.

  “Lizzie Borden took an ax.” Cassidy pulled on a pair of gloves, then placed a number beside the bloody murder weapon and snapped a photo before turning back to the victim. “And gave her mother forty whacks.”

  While the first victim had her throat slit, this one had taken many whacks of an ax to her head and torso almost rendering her features unrecognizable. She shook her head and squatted next to a beaded red purse that matched the woman’s gown. If not for the red clothing, she might have thought they were dealing with another perpetrator.

  She rifled through the evening purse and pulled out the woman’s driver’s license. “Pretty. Samantha Meyers” Of course, she would be. Someone wanted all the pretty people dead. The poor girl was nineteen years old and from Oklahoma. What was she doing on a mountain top in Arkansas?