“Lobo, I have to go to work.”
Lobo whimpered again.
All right. He let Lobo outside. Might as well make some coffee. Not like the hooker would get deader. Where the hell did that come from?
The coffee was ready at the same time Lobo wanted in. He shooed Lobo upstairs, then headed to his car.
Brad drove into the alley to the police tape and stopped. He showed his badge to a uniformed cop and ducked under the tape. Griffin stood by a dumpster.
“Morning,” Brad said.
“Ah, did I wake you up? Why didn’t you say you were in your jammies? We could’ve held the investigation until you were ready.”
“That would have been more thoughtful. But I’m up now—what ya got?”
“You still sound sleepy. You need coffee.”
“I had a cup.”
“Obviously not enough.”
“You going to yank my chain all morning or do you want to tell me what happened?”
Griffin shook his head. “Whiny to let’s-get-going in ten seconds. Impressive.”
Brad glared at Griffin.
“About an hour ago a driver came to pick up the dumpster,” Griffin said. “As he pulled in, his headlights lit up the area and he saw someone sleeping next to the dumpster. Not unusual for downtown. So, he got out to wake the person up. When he reached the dumpster, he realized it was a naked woman. When he kneeled to roll her onto her back, her body moved one way, her head the other.”
“What?”
“Her head is almost cut off from her neck. He called 911. The first cruiser and EMS showed up, all agreed she was dead. In some absolutely outstanding police work, the cops figured the death is suspicious. So, I got called. If I get called, so do you.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“Oh, no problem.”
Sergeant Bill Sturgeon ambled up to them. “Why are you arseholes calling me out at this ungodly hour?”
Brad shrugged. “Griffin said if he gets called out, so do I. I’m just sharing the invite.”
“You’re an arsehole, Coulter. What do you have?” Sturgeon asked.
Griffin brought Sturgeon up to date.
“You’re contaminating my crime scene,” Sturgeon said. “Go get a coffee or breakfast. Don’t come back for at least an hour.”
Brad and Griffin sat at a table in the back corner of the restaurant. A mom-and-pop operation with about eight tables. Griffin said the breakfast special was to die for.
They sipped coffee in silence. Halfway through the second cup, Brad asked, “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Every call for you is a body. Some, like this one, is pretty violent.”
Griffin sipped his coffee, set the cup down, and stared at the liquid. “Dark sense of humor helps. Ragging on my partner. You, my friend, make it too easy.”
The waitress set breakfast in front of them.
Brad ate quickly.
Griffin smiled. “You’re half the way here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re eating after seeing a body.”
“I’ve always been able to do that.”
“For you in TSU it was boredom, then absolute terror. As a detective the pace is slower. I’m not saying we don’t need to move quickly, but it’s planned, methodical. As a homicide detective you arrived after the chaos—no adrenaline rush. She’s dead. But she’s also helpless. If we don’t care about her, no one else will. That’s wrong. I can’t bring them back from the dead, but I can do everything I can to put the son of a bitch away and stop them from killing again. That’s how I do it. I care when no one else does.”
Brad spread strawberry jam on his toast. He chewed as he analyzed what Griffin said. In TSU, it was different. Split-second decisions come one after the other. A wrong decision and someone got hurt or dead. Maybe the slow pace was good for him.
“I like that,” Brad said. “Caring when no one else does.”
“It’s not always that way. Often there are people who care. Then I’m doing it for the victim and their family and friends. I’m the only one who can give them some closure. Not much, but some.”
Brad and Griffin headed back to the crime scene in silence.
Sturgeon met them by the dumpster. “This one is messy. Whoever did this is vicious. Worse than the other two, but a lot is the same. So, I’d say it’s Wolfe. You know her head was almost cut off. But not with an axe. It was hacked off. He spent a lot of time with a knife, sawing at her neck. It’s hard to tell in this light, but I’m pretty sure there are cigarette burns on her thighs. A lot of blood around her groin. I don’t know what he did there. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“So, she wasn’t killed here,” Brad said. “This is a dump site.”
“Good work, Coulter,” Sturgeon said. “You figured that out on your own. Autopsy today about eight. Meet me there.” Sturgeon smirked at Brad. “I know you love that part of the job.”
Brad stopped at the Medical Examiner’s Office at nine, after he got a coffee from Gerry’s. He signed in and headed to the autopsy suites.
Sturgeon was waiting in the hallway. “Chicken shit.”
“Slept in, sorry.”
“Bullshit.”
“Just give me the details.”
“Fine. Maybe we should move close to the trash in case you need to hurl.”
Brad glared.
“Most of the stuff I said at the scene the ME confirms,” Sturgeon said. “There are cigarette burns on her thighs. Now the nasty stuff. You ready?”
Brad nodded. “Continue.”
“She didn’t die there. Wolfe, if it’s him, dumped her there. The reason the ME knows for sure is she lost a lot of blood.”
“If she bled, she was still alive.”
“Yup. The reason for the bleeding wasn’t the rape. Afterward, while she was alive, he violated her with a knife.”
“Oh shit.” Brad swallowed hard as bile assaulted his mouth. “Wolfe is escalating. This isn’t about sex or domination. He’s inflicting pain, torture. Worse each time. We gotta find him.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Friday
Brad was seated at a diner near the Hells Angels’ Clubhouse drinking coffee and eating the Friday morning breakfast special when Pickens came in. His two goons took up positions by the door.
Pickens slid into the booth across from Brad. “Let’s make this quick.”
“Sure,” Brad said. “Same as last time: where is he?”
“Shit, Coulter,” Pickens said. “Same as last time, I don’t fuckin’ know where he is.”
The waitress brought a cup of coffee.
“I don’t need that,” Pickens said. “I’m not gonna be here long.”
“You don’t know where he is,” Brad said. “Does that mean you’ve talked to him?”
“I’m not here to play word games with you,” Pickens said. “If I knew where that son of a bitch was, I’d let you know. I’m tired of his shit splattering on me. I don’t need the attention.”
“Is Wolfe bad for your business?” Brad asked. “That’s gonna make me cry. If he’s such a problem for you, then we need to work together.”
“Since I took over, there’s been no street war, no attacks on cops or judges. We’ve kept our noses clean.”
“All you’ve done is take it underground,” Brad said.
“Two years ago, we learned an open war is stupid. Back then everyone was against us—cops, judges, politicians, and the citizens. We were news every day. Now the only things the media sees are us doing good stuff, Christmas toy drives and helping neighbors. I don’t want heat from the cops. If I knew where Wolfman was, I’d tell you.”
“I’m supposed to take your word on this. Not this time, Pickens, no way. If I find out you know where heis, or that you’re protecting him, putting the HA’s out of business will become my fulltime job. We’ll come down hard on your club.”
“Your threats two years ago didn’t bother me, and t
hey don’t now. I have a business to run.” Pickens stood. “Good luck, Detective.” He walked out of the restaurant—his goons followed.
Pickens stomped into the clubhouse, door slamming in the face of his driver and bodyguard.
“That son of a bitch. I told him to get out of town. Did he listen? No! Now Coulter thinks he can call me anytime he wants. He thinks I’ll drop everything to meet him. I told Wolfe he’d draw heat on us. Motherfucker.”
Pickens slumped into the chair in his office. His boys stood quietly at the door.
Pickens leaned forward, hands on his desk. “The cops want Wolfe. As long as he’s out there, we’re gonna be watched.”
“What are we gonna do, boss?” the driver asked.
“We find Wolfe for the cops.”
“What? Like catch and deliver him to the cops?”
“No. We find Wolfe, kill him, and leave his big fuckin’ body to rot.”
“If the cops can’t find him, how’re we gonna do it?”
“We’ve got better connections than Coulter has. Get the rest of the boys, get out there on the street and in the bars. Find Wolfman.”
“What do you want us to do when we find him?”
“Kill him, slowly,” Pickens said. “Leave him where the cops will find him. My gift to them.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Friday Night
Wolfe sat at the bar enjoying a cold beer and the bartender. She was late twenties, long brown hair, tight jeans and a quick, sarcastic wit. She wasn’t intimidated by him. She’d said his head looked like a big white bowling ball. When he pushed too hard, she shut him down immediately.
She glanced down the bar and nodded as Wolfe held up the empty bottle. She slid a fresh beer in front of him and leaned forward, elbows on the counter, head in her cupped hands. “You’ve been staring at my ass all night and now your eyes are glued to my tits. What color are my eyes?”
Wolfe looked up from her breasts that threatened to pop out of her low-cut T-shirt. “You put it on display, I’m gonna look.” He stared into sparkling blue eyes then took a long drink of beer. “I’ve heard the guys call you Linda. Is that really your name?”
“As far as anyone in this bar is concerned, that’s my name. What’s yours?”
“Slim.”
She laughed. “You don’t look slim. I doubt anything is slim.”
From the end of the bar a group of guys in cowboy hats shouted for more beer.
“Be right there,” Linda said, eyes boring into Wolfe’s. “You gonna be here for a while?”
“If it’s gonna be worth the wait.”
“Oh, big boy, you don’t know what you’re in for.” As she walked over to the group of cowboys, she exaggerated her walk.
Mighty fine. Mighty fine.
“Hey, he’s not the only thirsty guy here,” the loudest cowboy said. “We need another round.”
“Cool your jets, rodeo clown. I’ll get your beer.”
“Move it a little faster, bar bitch.” The cowboy looked to his pals who all laughed.
Wolfe started to get up, but Linda shook her head. She turned to the loud-mouthed cowboy. “You got some kinda problem?”
The cowboy grinned and winked to his buddies. “I sure do, honey. We need your sweet ass to move a little faster while you get our beer.”
“Did you call me honey?”
Wolfe shook his head and took another drink of beer. This should be good.
“I sure did, sweet cheeks. How about we go somewhere and I ride me some cowgirl.”
The cowboy nodded to his buddies and they slapped him on the back. When he turned to face Linda, her fist struck him on the nose, knocking him off his bar stool. His head hit the floor with a dull thud.
“You boys better get this asshole out of here before I decide who’s next.”
The cowboys dragged their friend out of the bar.
Linda strolled back to Wolfe. “Where were we?”
“I was about to ask you when you got off work.”
“You were? Well, you should sit there and drink for another hour.”
“I like your spunk. We could go somewhere and have a few drinks and get to know each other.”
“You’ve been watching my ass all night. Does this have anything to do with getting in my jeans?”
“Everything.”
Wolfe sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a package of cigarettes on the nightstand. He lit the smoke and inhaled deeply. He turned and stared at Linda. Bands of light from the streetlights filtered through the blinds, illuminating her face and her tousled hair. As she slept, it looked like she was smiling. He certainly was.
He was used to being the aggressor—in control. But not tonight. From the moment they’d stumbled into her house, she’d taken charge. He’d never let any woman do that before. She’d taken him places he’d never been. He was confused. What the hell happened last night? Had he lost his edge? It wasn’t so much that she took charge, he gave that to her. Now as he looked at her, he had no urge to hurt her and he certainly wasn’t going to kill her. He took the last puff on his cigarette and lit another from the red ash.
He slid off the bed and wandered to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, pulled out a beer and popped the cap. The beer tasted good. He’d drunk most of the bottle before he stopped. He leaned against the counter and stared into the bedroom. Linda had moved and the sheet had fallen off. The light shone on her breasts. He felt a stirring.
The back door burst open. Wolfe was showered with glass and pieces of wood. As he turned to the door, he was struck hard in the stomach by something solid. He doubled over and sank to his knees. As he looked up, a fist crashed into his temple. Pain blazed through his brain. He struggled to get up, but was hit across his back. He tried to fight past the new pain. If he didn’t, he was a goner.
“The boss wants you dead,” a voice said from the darkness. “But he said we could have some fun first. You know, a little batting practice.”
Wolfe’s eyes finally focused in the darkness. Two men stood over him. One held a baseball bat high, then brought the bat down. Wolfe put up his arm to defend against the blow. He screamed out in pain. He struggled to stand. With his right arm he grabbed a chair and pulled himself up, staggering as he fought to stay on his feet.
The kitchen lights came on, blinding them for a moment. He grabbed the counter for balance and willed his eyes to adjust to the light. Linda stood in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide.
“Shit.” One attacker pulled a gun out of his belt.
Wolfe staggered away from the counter. He moved in slow motion. “No!”
The gun fired twice. Red circles formed on her chest, quickly expanding. She looked at Wolfe—the sparkle was gone from her eyes. She grabbed for the wall as she fell. Her body lay crumpled on the floor, her blank eyes staring.
Chapter Forty-Four
Saturday Night
Brad and Devlin sat at a back table in a pizza restaurant. Brad looked over to Devlin, who appeared as defeated as Brad felt.
Devlin sipped a beer while Brad nursed a double rum and Coke.
“How does a guy six-foot-five and two hundred and fifty pounds disappear?” Brad asked, a question they kept coming back to time and again.
“Hell if I know,” Devlin said. “Everything is coming up goose eggs.”
“Steele and Zerr got nothing from the tattoo parlors,” Brad said. “Not surprising.”
“The undercover guys aren’t doing any better.” Devlin leaned back in his chair. “It’s like we’re chasing a ghost. Maybe Wolfe is long gone.”
“I’d like to believe that, but he’s got unfinished business here,” Brad said. “He really wants Blighe.”
“We’ve got her under twenty-four-hour protection. He can’t get close to her.”
Brad nodded. “Wolfe will find other victims until he gets Blighe. If it were just about sex or perversions, he’d leave. He’s here and he’s waiting for the right opportunity to get Blighe. He’ll wait mont
hs if he has to. And he’ll rape and kill when he needs to. At some point we’ll stop her protection, then he’ll pounce.”
Their pagers beeped at the same time. Brad glanced at the number, then headed to the front of the restaurant and borrowed a phone. Dispatch gave him a message and he hung up. “Devlin, we gotta go.”
In the car, Devlin asked, “What’s going on?”
Brad hit the lights and siren. “Two bodies found at the city limits.”
“Wolfe one of them?”
“Not sure. The cops on scene say they’re big guys.”
“If it’s Wolfe, who’s the other one?”
“Guess we’ll find that out when we get there.”
Brad had to park well back from the scene. The road was blocked by a dozen cruisers, a couple of ambulances, and a fire truck. They jumped out of the car, ducked under the police tape and jogged down the road to cops shining their flashlights at power poles.
Brad followed the flashlight beams to a man nailed to the pole. “Ah, shit.” His face was severely beaten, with caked, dried blood. His arms and legs hung limp at weird angles.
A cop walked over to them. “Same thing on the next pole.”
“Who called this in?” Brad asked.
“Dispatch says it was from a pay-phone a few miles back,” the cop answered. “A guy said the cops would be interested in something left on power poles at the city limits. When the first cruiser got here, they saw the body and called for backup. We didn’t find the second body for about twenty minutes. We were all kinda focused on this guy.”
“Who are they?” Brad asked.
“Not sure, we didn’t want to disturb the scene. Homicide and Ident are on their way.”
Brad looked at the power pole and then to a cop standing at a cruiser. “Can you pull that cruiser closer and shine your spotlight on the body?”
“Sure.”
He pulled the cruiser to the edge of the road and used the cruiser’s powerful spotlight.
Wolfman is Back Page 17
