by Jana DeLeon
The streetlight in the middle of the block wasn’t on, making it hard to see because the illumination from the two street corners didn’t quite meet in the middle, but as she moved closer to a parked car, she saw someone standing there motioning to her. Long red hair spilled down the back of the jacket.
“Ms. Avery. It’s Wanda.”
“Thank goodness,” Madison said, and headed toward the security guard. “Did everyone get out?”
“You’re the last one. I was looking for you.”
“Is everyone around front?”
“Yes. Let’s get going.”
As Madison stepped past Wanda, the moon crept out from behind a cloud and she got a good look at her. She couldn’t remember Wanda’s face, of course, but she knew something was wrong. And then it hit her—Wanda had waved at her with her left hand.
Before she could open her mouth to scream, he grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth with his hand. A second later, she felt the prick of the needle in her neck and then everything went black.
Shaye headed into her kitchen and grabbed two bottled waters. They’d just finished a long but enjoyable night with Corrine and Eleonore, and now she just wanted to curl up on the couch and talk to Jackson before drifting off to sleep. It had been so cool to see her mother and Eleonore welcoming Jackson right into the mix—joking with him and handing out “man” holiday chores for him to handle. Shaye had worried about the holiday because she knew it would be hard on Corrine without her father there, especially given why he wasn’t there, but it hadn’t been sad, as she’d anticipated. There was still tomorrow to get through, but after tonight, Shaye knew it would be fine.
“I figured you were worn out on eggnog and wine,” she said as she handed Jackson the water.
“God yes,” Jackson said, and slumped onto the couch. “And food. I might not need to eat again for a week.”
“You’re out of luck on that one. Tonight was just cocktail hour. Tomorrow is the full service.”
He groaned. “Why doesn’t all this holiday food coincide with times that’s it’s okay to wear sweatpants?”
Shaye sat down next to him. “Preaching to the choir.”
“I see now why you moved out. It wasn’t all the mothering. It was the food.”
She grinned. “Maybe a little of both. You’re lucky your parents are in another state.”
“Yes and no. I don’t get the constant interference, at least not in person, although my mother does rock a good FaceTime session. But traveling means when we do see each other it’s for days or a week and not just hours. That’s a whole lot of togetherness packed into a short amount of time.”
“That’s true. I guess it’s just as well that neither Corrine nor I wanted to leave New Orleans. I already have to run her out of here every time she starts talking about drapes or rugs or a bunch of stuff I’d have to dust. Are you still going to see them next week?”
“I don’t know. If there’s a resolution on this case, I’ll still go, but if he’s still out there loose, then I can’t do it. I’ve already told them that I might have to reschedule. They’re disappointed, but it’s not like they don’t understand the job.”
“How long was your father a cop?”
“Thirty-two years. He was shooting for thirty-five, but his blood pressure got too bad and the doctors worried about his heart. They said he needed to do something less stressful.”
“Thirty-two years is a long time.”
Jackson nodded. “Twenty-five of them as a detective. Fifteen in homicide. You should have seen his face when I told him I’d made detective. He was practically beaming. Then I said I’d be on one of the teams first up on homicides and the light dimmed.”
“He knows firsthand how hard it is.”
“Yeah. I still think special victims is worse, though. I mean, look at this situation. Carla is already gone and that’s sad, but my biggest worry is keeping Madison from going the same route. It’s a whole different ball game when you’ve got live ones to consider.”
“I can see that. It would be much easier to compartmentalize if you didn’t have personal interaction with the victim. And then in a situation like this, where they’re still being targeted, it’s a million times worse.”
Jackson put his arm around her. “And you’re sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t think I have a choice. You know, Shonda said something to me about that. She said it was a calling and that I didn’t get to decide whether I did it or not. The decision was already made for me.”
“Maybe she’s right. I know I can’t imagine doing anything else. Even during the worst parts of the job, there’s still no place I’d rather be and nothing else I’d rather be doing.”
“We’re hopeless. And we’re going to give my mother a heart attack one of these days. She knows Eleonore spent the afternoon with Madison and I know it’s killing her that neither of us will tell her what’s going on. But the last thing I need is her worrying about me. If she knew about last night, she might be tempted to pull a Pierce and hire a bodyguard.”
“Because that worked out so well for him.”
Shaye smiled at the memory of getting the best of the men her grandfather paid to “protect” her. The men were embarrassed and her grandfather was unapologetic. At least her mother had been angry on her behalf, even though Shaye knew Corrine wished Shaye would consider protection.
Jackson squirmed a bit on the couch and pulled a long, thin box out of his pocket. “I know we opened our gifts tonight, but there’s one more I have for you.”
“But you already got me the sweater and the 1911, which is totally awesome, regardless of Corrine’s expression when I unwrapped it.”
“We’ll take her to the gun range and let her see the hole it can put in a man. She’ll like it a lot better then.”
He handed her the box and she pulled the string to untie the bow. Then her cell phone rang. She frowned and glanced at the display. Who in the world would be calling her this late?
“It’s Maxwell,” she said, and grabbed the phone.
“The fire alarm is going off at Madison’s building,” Maxwell said. “I can’t get her to answer her cell.”
“We’re on our way,” Shaye said, and jumped off the couch.
Without even asking, Jackson grabbed his coat and gun and hurried out with her. She explained as they jumped in his truck. He threw the truck into gear and squealed away from the curb.
“No way this is a coincidence,” Jackson said.
She nodded. “He knew he couldn’t get in the building, so he got her out.”
24
He hauled her body up the steps and into the house, his childhood home. It had been boarded up for some time now, condemned by the city. But when he’d collected his mother’s things from her shitty apartment, he’d brought them here because this is where they belonged. It was where they belonged.
He stumbled a bit as he walked through the living room and down the hall, always surprised at how heavy the bodies felt, even when they couldn’t possibly weigh that much. That whole dead weight thing was very true. Except Madison wasn’t dead. Not yet. She was different from the others. No quick death for her, although he expected that she’d be begging for him to kill her before it was over.
But this one was special. For this one, he was going to take his time.
He’d already had to take her before he planned on it, but the Archer bitch was getting too close. And the cops had been by the motel, covering the same ground she’d already covered. He knew she had to be the one who tipped them off, although he still couldn’t figure out how the Archer bitch had figured out Carla was the one he’d killed. She was too smart for her own good. So he had to make his move faster than he’d wanted, and that made him angry.
Once he’d experienced the power of delayed gratification, he’d wanted to take longer to play with Madison. But he’d had to adjust his plans.
He placed her on his mother’s bed and pulled off her clothes. Her
naked body splayed out gave him an erection, but he pushed those urges aside. Not yet. This time, she would be awake when he took her. The first time, anyway. He removed a faded pink dress from the dresser and pulled it over her head, then worked it down her body. The makeup was next. Red lipstick and blue eyeshadow, both just a little too dark for her pale skin.
When he was done, he stepped back and reviewed his work.
Her face shifted, and he saw her again—the face he’d been seeing over and over again since he’d killed her. His mother.
He smiled and moved to the bed again to chain her arms to metal rods that made up the bed frame. Now that she was secure, he needed to get back to his other life. Step back into his normal routine. It kept him invisible.
There was still plenty of time for fun.
This time, he’d make her see him. He wouldn’t stop until she did.
Shaye jumped out of the car and hurried into Madison’s building, Jackson right behind. She drew up short when she saw the paramedics hunched over a figure on the ground and shot a horrified glance over at Maxwell.
“It’s not Madison,” Maxwell said, hurrying over to reassure her. “It’s the security guard, James.”
“Is he dead?” Jackson asked.
“No. But he’s got a gunshot wound and it’s a nasty one. They’re prepping him for transport, but I have to say, it doesn’t look good. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Security footage?” Jackson asked.
Maxwell shook his head. “Gone.”
“So he shot the guard, deleted the security footage, and then set off the fire alarm,” Shaye said. “Damn it! We should have been ready for this.”
“You can’t prepare for every possible scenario,” Jackson said. “We thought Madison was safe as long as she stayed in her apartment. At least for the short term.”
“I think she was,” Shaye said, “until he saw me talking to Shonda and Louise. He knew we were closing in, so he made his move. And we still don’t know who he is.”
“No,” Maxwell agreed, “but we have some leads. I followed Cooper to a hotel and was sitting outside but I never saw him leave. I’ve already sent units to the hotel to follow up on Cooper and to the Franklin Motel. Parks wasn’t there earlier when we tried to pick him up, but his belongings were.”
“He wouldn’t take her to the motel,” Shaye said. “He stages things, like he did in the apartment.”
“He was working with limited time on this one,” Jackson said.
“Maybe. Or maybe he already had a list of places in mind before he ever started,” Shaye said. “We need to check the apartment building.”
“Assuming it’s Parks, do you really think he’d risk taking her there after Carla?” Maxwell asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but it has to be checked. Can you send a unit over there? What about Grayson?”
Jackson shook his head. “He left with his family this evening for a skiing trip.”
“I can get some patrol units on it. But what are we going to do?” Maxwell asked.
“We need to find Parks’s house. Casey said it was condemned but if Parks’s issues are tied up in the past…”
“He might have taken Madison to the house,” Jackson said. “I’ll get someone on that address. Maxwell, you call for the building search.”
Shaye watched as the paramedics moved James onto a gurney and hurried outside. She hoped the shot wasn’t fatal. Not only did his life matter, he might be the only other person besides the street kid who could identify the killer.
“I’ve got the address,” Jackson said.
“Good,” Maxwell said. “I’ve got two units on their way to the apartment building. They have instructions to question everyone and open every door. Let’s go check out that house.”
Maxwell looked at Shaye. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to come along.”
“That’s okay,” Shaye said. “I’ve got my own vehicle, and I’m not much of one to listen to authority. Unless, of course, you’re going to arrest me for following you.”
Maxwell grinned. “No time for that. Let’s go, Lamotte.”
Shaye followed them out of the building and jumped into Jackson’s truck. As she pulled away from the curb, two units pulled up in front of the apartment building. She didn’t think they’d find anything, but then she hadn’t thought the killer would come after Madison so soon or in her apartment building. She’d thought he’d bide his time and attempt to take her when she left.
She’d been wrong. Maybe dead wrong.
So this time, she wasn’t going to work off assumptions. She was going to cover every single angle she could possibly think of. Even if she never slept again.
25
Friday, December 25, 2015
* * *
At 6:00 a.m. on Christmas morning, Shaye dropped into a booth at a small café in the Seventh Ward. She, Jackson, and Maxwell had been through Jason Parks’s boyhood home, what there was left of it. But it had been clear when they’d taken the first step inside that no one had been there for a long time. The roof had caved into the living room and the floor was rotted through in most places, making traversing the house a dangerous game. The upside was that it was small and empty, so it hadn’t taken them long to determine that Madison wasn’t stashed anywhere inside.
Unfortunately, that meant they were back at square one.
Maxwell had been running an employment history on Parks and had come up with three other apartment buildings he’d worked in. They’d spent the rest of the night canvassing those buildings, but nothing had come of it. Most of the residents didn’t know Parks and the few who did said they hadn’t seen him in years. No one recognized Madison.
Shaye and Jackson had just finished helping to canvass the last building and had ducked into the nearest café for much-needed caffeine. Maxwell had already called to say the other buildings were clear as well and Parks still hadn’t returned to the motel. So basically, they still had nothing. The only silver lining was that the security guard, James, had pulled through surgery, and the doctors were somewhat optimistic about his chances. Unfortunately, they had no idea when he’d regain consciousness and even then, if he’d be fit for questioning or remember what had happened, as he’d taken a good blow to the head from the desk when he’d fallen.
Shaye took a sip of coffee, then leaned back in the booth. “What now?”
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess we keep looking for Parks. Checking the places we know he goes until we turn up something.”
She blew out a breath. “The only problem I have with that is the huge assumption we’re making that Parks is our guy. I know. I know. All clues point to him—I’ve been pointing to him—but we don’t have anything concrete.”
“Okay, then play devil’s advocate with me. I’ll throw out the question and you give me an alternate explanation for why he appears to be involved.”
“Sure. That might open up another avenue of thought. Go ahead.”
“If Parks isn’t our guy, why can’t we find him?”
“Because he has friends or family that he’s celebrating the holidays with.”
“The hotel manager told Maxwell he never listed an emergency contact in his paperwork.”
“Then maybe he’s celebrating the holidays in a casino with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. People who have no one do that all the time.”
“Okay. If Parks isn’t our guy, why was he nervous when you told him Carla was the victim?”
“Because since she stays at the motel and Parks had access to the apartment where she was killed, he was afraid he’d be blamed for killing her.”
“Assuming he didn’t kill her, do you think that’s the line of thought he would have immediately jumped on?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Hey, what if he knew Carla in a professional capacity and didn’t want to admit it?”
Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Good one. So he saw Carla at the motel, figured out her line of work, and paid for se
rvices.”
“It’s possible. He wouldn’t want to admit to knowing her if that’s the case.”
“Okay, so let’s assume it’s not Parks. Who else is there? Cooper alibied out. He was at a party in that hotel in front of thirty other people last night when Madison was abducted.”
“He lied about being in town the night Madison saw the murder. Maxwell has his car on camera in the same neighborhood that Carla worked.”
“And he could have been up to any number of things he wouldn’t want other people to know about. Murder is not the only thing men lie about.”
“What if he had an accomplice?”
Jackson smiled. “You really don’t like the guy, do you? You and I both know the chances of that are slim. Madison only saw one killer. Serial killers prefer to work alone. And the necrophilia thing is definitely best left to two. Or one, depending on how you want to look at it.”
Shaye grimaced. “I don’t want to look at that aspect at all.”
“Can’t say that I blame you. So we know it’s not Cooper, and it may or may not be Parks. We have to start somewhere. Where is that?”
“I wish I could have found the girl who delivered the photo. I’ll bet anything she can identify the killer. Without knowing who it is, it’s too easy to put resources into digging up information on the wrong person. If we could find her, we’d know for sure who to concentrate our efforts on.”
“Yeah, and if we show her pictures and she picks out Parks, then we wasted time looking for her when we could have been looking for him.”
“I hate this. I feel like there’s so much pressure to make the right choice and that the wrong one will get Madison killed. And please don’t say she could be dead already. I’m operating on the idea that she’s alive. I can’t take the alternative. Not yet.”
“I know. And I’m as optimistic as you, but we have to pick a direction.”
She nodded. “We’re close to Saul’s place. Let’s stop by and talk to Hustle. Maybe he has another idea of where to find the girl, especially with it being a holiday. I know he said some of his crew used to celebrate holidays together. Maybe this girl does the same. He might have an idea where to check.”
