Ripped in Red

by Cynthia Hickey

  “And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one.”

  “Nursery rhymes?” Colin squatted next to her.

  “Came to mind when I entered the crime scene.” Cassidy handed him the license. “See if you can find out if anyone in Lawton reported this poor girl missing.” She straightened and scanned the scene. Something didn’t make sense. Why slit one girl’s throat and go to such extremes with this one?

  “This girl was reported missing yesterday.” Colin snapped his cell phone closed. “She disappeared from a party.” He glanced around the area. “What are you thinking?”

  “That we’re dealing with more than one killer.”

  “Hmm.” He stared into the trees. “It’s possible. But what would be the motivation?”

  “That’s what we need to figure out.” She sighed. “It’s time to bring in the FBI.”

  He groaned. “They’ll take over.”

  “True, but we need all the help we can get.” She dug out her cell phone as the ambulance arrived, sirens wailing. “What about the two who found her?”

  “They’re waiting for us at the station. I hope you don’t mind that I put a case of bottled water in the backseat this morning. If we’re going to be taking your car most of the time—”

  She waved off his explanation. “It came in handy.” She placed a call to the FBI, explaining the two murders, then hung up. “They’ll get back to us later.”

  ~

  Draco watched from a thick stand of trees as the one he loved and admired found his latest gift to her. Not that Draco personally killed the woman, no, not this one, but he had guided his prodigy. Too bad the silly woman had gone so far overboard in her killing. Still, practice made perfect. Her motive had been warranted.

  One day, the pretty people of the world would learn that treating those less attractive with scorn and rudeness had terrible consequences. Someday, they would bow before Draco and his kind. He traced the scar on his face with his forefinger. Just as his love had done minutes before her death. Tears and pleas didn’t work to sway one as powerful as he.

  The object of his desire turned and stared in his direction. Not that she could see him until he willed it, but he melted further into the shadows, freeing the tail of his shirt from the eager clutches of a bush. Their day would come.

  ~

  Back at the office, Colin tapped a pencil on his desk and stared at the case board. Two deaths in two days. Both beautiful women in red evening gowns. No suspects. He studied his partner.

  Cassidy had stood for ten minutes, staring at the board, unmoving, as if she could will a clue to be there that wasn’t. He’d read her file. He knew how good she was at what she did, but this time…they were in over their heads.

  He straightened and stopped tapping as three agents, all in dark suits, entered the tiny office. The tallest, a large African American, approached Colin. “I’m Agent Ingram, these are Agents Smith and Weston. No wisecracks, please.”

  Colin stood and shook his hand. “Wouldn’t think of it. I’m Detective Colin MacKenzie and this is Detective Cassidy Monroe, head detective on the case.”

  Cassidy turned, gave them a nod, and resumed studying the board. “I’m guessing you will want to move to the conference room? It isn’t much larger, but we can squeeze in.”

  Agent Ingram returned her nod. “Are you the Colin MacKenzie that turned down working for the FBI?”

  “One and the same.” Colin took a deep breath.

  Cassidy turned and stared.

  He shrugged. “I prefer to dabble in computers in my spare time. Pounding the pavements is more my style.” When the FBI asked him to sit at a desk all day and search for cyber crime he had turned them down. Sure, he still searched the internet on his off hours, sometimes sending something suspicious their way, but that type of life wasn’t for him.

  “Our loss.” Ingram motioned his head to the door. “Shall we?”

  The other two agents wheeled the case board into the conference room, placing it against a far wall. Once everyone was inside, Cassidy told them of what had transpired over the last two days and her’s and Colin’s suspicions that they were looking at more than one killer.

  Ingram nodded several times during Cassidy’s speech. “Agent Weston will provide a press release and make a statement to the press. We’ll notify the Lawton police and visit the latest victim’s family.”

  Cassidy crossed her arms. “I do hope you will continue to let us investigate.”

  “Of course. You’ve had direct contact from the unsub. We’ll keep all channels of communication open and will ask that you do the same. In fact, we insist the two of you follow any leads you may have.” With a thin-lipped smile, the three agents left the room.

  Follow the leads. He knew darn well they didn’t have any. He was amusing himself with the fact Colin chose to hit the streets rather than work for the FBI. He met Cassidy’s stern gaze. “Where to?”

  “I want to revisit the crime scene. I feel like we’re missing something.” She grabbed a black hoodie from the back of a chair. “When we were out there before, I felt like we were being watched.”

  Colin froze mid-stride. “You think the unsub was there?”

  “Not sure. It could be nothing more than the heebie jeebies from a dead body, but I’d still like to take a look.”

  Colin wasn’t going to disregard her intuition. Life had taught him to listen to a woman’s gut feeling. He dashed into their office long enough to grab a light jacket from the back of his chair and rushed to meet Cassidy at the jeep.

  Rain fell in a steady stream, the autumn day dark and drab. Fitting for a murder scene. He clicked his seat belt into place and listened to the steady thump of the wiper blades. He almost requested they wait until the next day to search the woods, but if the rain continued for too long, any signs could be washed away. They couldn’t take that chance.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you turned down the FBI?” Cassidy cut him a sideways glance.

  “It was in my file.”

  “I didn’t read your file.”

  “Maybe you should have.” He quirked his mouth. “I read every page of yours.”

  She frowned. “Good for you.” She turned down the road that led to the hiking trail. When they stopped, she grabbed her camera and case from the trunk, and headed into the trees.

  Yellow crime scene tape sagged under the increasing rain. After slipping a protective cover over her phone, Cassidy pulled up her hood. She stepped to the edge of the crime scene and looked to her left.

  “There,” she said. “Earlier, I thought I heard something.”

  Colin unlatched his gun. “Let’s take a closer look.”

  Shaking the rain from his hair, he led the way in the direction she pointed. He stopped a few feet into a thick stand of trees. “Someone stood here.” He squatted. “See the prints? Looks like a size eleven gym shoe.” Why hadn’t she said something earlier?

  “Here is a scrap of fabric. Could be from our unsub.”

  Colin stood. “If you thought someone was watching, why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t until I thought more about it that I remembered.” She snapped a picture of the fabric on the branch, then used tweezers to pull it free. She dropped it into a small bag. “At first, I thought it nothing more than nerves.”

  “You’ve got good instincts, Cassidy. Trust them.” He placed his foot beside the print while Cassidy took a picture. “Even if nothing pans out, go with every gut feeling.”

  “I usually do.” She placed her camera and the scrap of fabric into her case. “A second murder in two days rattled me a bit. I’m focused now.”

  “It was the poem, not the dead body that threw you off kilter.”

  “Think what you want.”

  She sure was a prickly woman. As beautiful as the landscape of Scotland and as sharp as a thorn bush. He’d break through her defenses, eventually. He had to. They had to be able to trust each other. But,
he had a feeling his partner trusted very few people.

  He gave the area another quick scan, hoping they hadn’t missed anything else. When the killer struck again, and Colin knew he, or she, would, he’d keep a sharp eye on their surroundings. If he showed up at one crime scene, he’d show up at another.

  What was he looking for? Why hadn’t he taken a shot at the officers? Did he get off on watching reactions to his deed? Possibly, but Colin thought it might be deeper than that. After the poem Cassidy received, he had a sinking feeling that the women might be some kind of sick, twisted gift for his partner.

  4

  Cassidy tossed her keys in the bowl on the foyer table and headed to the kitchen. Nothing ended a day on the job more than a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn. She sipped her Moscato while she waited for the microwave to signal her meal was ready.

  She’d messed up. When they’d examined the body that morning, and she’d felt eyes watching her, she should have investigated then, and not chalked it up to nerves and an over-active imagination. They’d lost valuable time. If she had taken her feeling to heart, the killer might be behind bars right that moment.

  The microwave dinged, and she withdrew her supper. Maybe not the most nutritious meal, but it was her favorite. Popcorn and a drink was what she needed after the last two days.

  She moved to the living room and turned on the television. Agent Weston stood behind a podium, alerting the town and surrounding areas to the possibility of a serial killer in their midst. She was good, telling them what they needed to know, but not giving so much information that she jeopardized the investigation.

  Cassidy sat on the sofa and balanced the bowl of popcorn on her lap. Colin could have been one of the agents in charge. Why be content to work for a small town police force? Cassidy would give her eye teeth for an FBI offer. Her partner was definitely an enigma. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her. It seemed Colin MacKenzie might be more than a handsome face and a killer smile. Too bad she only wanted to know enough about him to work with him.

  Popcorn and glass of wine finished, she turned off the television and climbed the stairs to her room. She placed her holster and gun on the bed, then whipped off her shirt. She froze. The closet door was open about two inches. Meticulous to a fault, Cassidy had a place for everything in her house and never left doors open that were meant to be closed.

  She slowly slid her weapon from its holster. Mouth as dry as desert sand, she soft-footed her way to the closet and whipped the door open. Empty, except for jeans, tee shirts, and her few dressier items of clothing. She turned a slow circle in her room. Nothing seemed out of place. Her few pieces of jewelry rested in a crystal candy dish on the dresser. The latest crime novel she was reading sat on the nightstand.

  She moved to the bathroom. Towels hung straight, hygiene products in place. Had she been so preoccupied with yesterday’s murder that she hadn’t noticed her open closet? There was a first time for everything, her old partner used to say. Still, the fact that something seemed off wouldn’t leave her. She wouldn’t brush it off as she had that morning. Instead, she did a thorough sweep of her home…and found nothing amiss.

  There was no other explanation. She was getting sloppy.

  Back in her room, she flopped across the bed and stared at the ceiling. She had to have left the closet door open. Her windows were locked, so were her doors. Had her mind been so consumed with the case that she’d forgotten parts of her morning routine?

  Ugh. She got up and headed for the bathroom. After turning on the water, she got undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor. She reached over and closed and locked the bathroom door. If someone had gotten into her house, she definitely didn’t want to be caught naked.

  Her cell phone rang from the nightstand in the bedroom. They could leave a message. She stepped under the hot spray of the faucet and closed her eyes. A big mistake. The faces of the two victims swam across her eyelids.

  What if the man who killed them really was the same one who had taken her mother’s life? Was it possible that after all these years, her mother’s case would finally be solved?

  She lathered her hair and turned her back to the faucet. Was Colin right and the perp was fixated on Cassidy? Why? She didn’t fit the profile of the victims. Well, not in her day-to-day life. If she dressed nice and put on makeup, she would be just as pretty. She rinsed and turned off the water. Others in law enforcement wouldn’t take her seriously if she looked like a Barbie doll.

  Still…a momentary thought of luring the perp from hiding by upping her looks flitted across her mind and was quickly dismissed. Jeans and sweatpants were better suited for a law officer in the small town of Clear Springs.

  Her cell phone rang again. She sighed, wrapped a towel around her, and hurried to answer it. The caller hung up before she could press the button.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  She grabbed her gun and whirled, keeping a tight hold of her towel. “Colin! I could have shot you.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get in here?”

  “I picked your lock.” He leaned against the doorjamb, looking as delicious as a slice of chocolate cake. “You don’t have a very good security system.”

  “Why are you here?” She set her gun back on the stand and headed for the bathroom.

  “You didn’t answer your phone.”

  She rolled her eyes and slammed the door. Of all the nerve. A smile teased at her lips. The wide-eyed look on his face at seeing her in nothing but a towel almost made her forget her anger. Almost. Darn. She’d forgotten to grab clothes.

  She opened the door an inch. “Could you hand me those clothes over the back of the chair, please?”

  “You sleep in gym shorts?” He squeezed them through the crack in the door. “Not very sexy.”

  “No one to impress.” She quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. She stepped out of the bathroom and glared. “Explain again why you’re here?”

  “Oh.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “I was doing some computer searching and ran across this website you might be interested in. Mind if I use your computer?”

  “In here.” She led him to the second bedroom which she used as a guest room, not that she ever had any guests, and an office. She flipped the top of the laptop and stepped aside.

  Colin’s fingers flew across the keyboard. What he pulled up make her stomach roll.

  “How did you find this?” She watched in horror as the first victim, Amber Wilson, dashed through the forest, glancing with terror over her shoulder. The video went on to film her killer slash her throat.

  “Here’s the other one.” Colin clicked to another link.

  “My God.” Cassidy’s knees sagged. “Snuff films.”

  He nodded. “I’m not convinced the films are the reason for the murders, but merely a convenient means to let others enjoy the unsub’s handiwork.”

  She leaned against the desk and put a hand over her face. Not once in her years as a detective had she seen something so sick.

  Colin grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to him. Before she could take a breath, his head descended, his lips claiming hers.

  For a second, she responded, before stepping back and stomping on his foot. “What are you doing?”

  “Ow.” He grabbed his foot and grinned. “I thought you were going to faint. Kissing you was the first thing I could think of.”

  ~

  Her lips were as soft and sweet as he thought they’d be. And, for a moment, she’d melted and returned his kiss. His partner wasn’t as made of ice as she pretended to be.

  “Don’t do that again.” She poked his chest with her finger.

  “No promises.” He motioned back to the laptop. “Now that that’s out of the way, any ideas how you want to handle this?”

  She shook her head. “What made you think to look for these videos?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I kept feeling as if there was someth
ing we were missing, so I started playing around. If I were a killer, proud enough of my handiwork to send the detective in charge a love poem, what would I do?” He rubbed his hands down his face. “It’s disgusting how my mind works sometimes.”

  “Can we get a trace?”

  “I’ve already notified the FBI agents. Hopefully, they can do more on their end.”

  “Can we close down the site?”

  “Sure, but the killer will just open a new one.” He grabbed her elbow. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  “I had popcorn.” She yanked free.

  “That’s not dinner.”

  “How can you eat after watching that?”

  “I’m a healthy male with a clear conscience.” Mostly, anyway. “Let’s grab a burger.”

  “Fine. Give me a minute.”

  He watched as she made sure her closet was closed, checked under her bed, and then made the rounds of the house checking doors and windows. She was thorough. He shook his head at her OCD tendency and held the front door open for her to go ahead of him. “You really need to update your security. I know a guy.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She slid behind the wheel of her jeep and smiled through the window.

  Colin laughed and dashed through a lightly falling rain to the passenger side. Working with Cassidy promised to be fun. “You’ll have to let me drive sometime,” he said, sliding into the jeep.

  “You can try if I’m ever incapable.” She turned the ignition and backed from the drive. “I know just the place for good barbeque where they won’t mind that I’m dressed like a teenage boy.”

  A sexy teenager, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. They remained silent until she turned into a burger joint with outdoor seating. The smell of roasting beef teased his growling stomach. He loved dive places. They often served the best food.

  “I’ll order,” Cassidy said, sliding from the jeep. “Double bacon cheeseburgers with seasoned fries and lots of sauce. You’ll love it. Want a beer?”

  “Yeah.” He followed her, pulling out his wallet. A man never let a woman pay for dinner. At least not this man. He slid his money through the order window before Cassidy was finished giving their selection.