Still Waters [A Kyra Moray Mystery]

by Deanna Lee

  "Did Aaron make any attempt to explain himself?"

  "Nope. I told his daddy, but I doubt Jake did a thing about it. He let that kid run wild, and encouraged him to fight with other kids. I didn't let mine play with him. I have girls; didn't think Aaron would be any better than his daddy."

  "Aaron was cruel to little girls in his neighborhood,” Kyra murmured.

  "As I said, he was his daddy's son.” He sat back in his chair. “Where's that pretty girl with the Yankee accent?"

  "My partner, Constable Salanti, is currently on the observation deck watching you and me talk."

  "You always tell the truth?"

  "If I can."

  "Why are you interested in a bunch of dead people?"

  "Because I don't think all three members of the Belton family are dead.” Kyra paused. “Do you remember the three other children that died around the same time Aaron supposedly did?"

  "Yeah, it was big news then. Those poor little boys murdered like that.” He frowned. “I'm ashamed to say that at the time I was relieved that all I had was girls."

  "The three little boys were friends with Aaron Belton."

  The statement sat between them for a few seconds, and then Billy nodded. “That Killian boy, he used to come around the neighborhood a lot. My youngest girl had something of a crush on him. She was really hurt when they found him dead. He'd been a good-looking boy, smart. I never could figure why he was friends with a little creep like Aaron."

  * * * *

  "You think he told us everything?"

  "Yeah. He's a good ole boy, but not one that would harbor a man like Aaron. He has daughters, and he's been watching the news. He'll go home and lock his family up good and tight."

  "Do you still think it was the father who did the killing that night?"

  "It made the most sense before.” Kyra sat back in her chair and looked at Desi.

  Ana turned in her desk chair. “I have the address on the Belton place. It's out in the middle of nowhere. Most of the houses in that area were condemned years ago. The city has plans to rezone it in the next five years and give it over to the conservationist preserve."

  * * * *

  It was, without a doubt, the weirdest damn thing she'd ever seen. And that was saying a lot. Kyra kicked the blackened foundation with her boot. “How the hell does something like this stay here for twenty years?"

  "The land has changed hands several times, but for some reason or another, every buyer decided to not build on it. The city purchased it from Reginald Hawking four years ago. They've been buying land in this area for years.” Ana hesitantly stepped up onto the foundation and walked around. “Will all of our cases be this damn weird?"

  Kyra laughed. “Well, as the senior inspector for Major Crimes in the largest district in New Orleans, a lot of the weird crap does fall on my desk.” She slid her hand up her side to check her gun, and grimaced. The place was getting to her, too. “Let's find Billy Joe's shack."

  "Surely it isn't still here?” Ana jumped down from the foundation and trotted after her. “You know, I chose District 4 when I graduated from the academy. A lot of the recruits wanted 1 or 2 because of the big fancy neighborhoods and low crime."

  "So you chose the worst out of the four?” She laughed.

  "Yeah. Who wants to ride shotgun on poodle patrol?"

  Kyra went back to her vehicle and opened the rear. She pulled out two large flashlights. “State park land begins about ten feet past the Belton property line. If the shack is here, it was probably taken over by another conservationist when Billy Joe gave it up. If I remember correctly, the Conservationist Hunting Act passed about two years after the Belton's place burned."

  "You don't like conservationists."

  "Not true. The practice is sound. Man managed to obliterate natural predators and destroy habitat to the point that only controlled animal populations can exist with a good standard of living. I'm all for genetic branding and smart hunting. I just don't know why they have to call themselves conservationists. It just riles people up. Conservationists used to be the people who fought against the destruction of habitat, the mass murder of God's little creatures.” Kyra jerked her flashlight around. “We've got a trail here, a well-worn trail."

  The shack was actually a five-by-eight cinderblock building with a sturdy metal roof and a digital combination lock. Kyra ran her light around the ground in front of the shed and then went back to the lock. “Find out who the lock is registered to."

  Ana tucked her flashlight into her hand and pulled out her p-pc. “What are you thinking?"

  "I'm thinking that this structure is a little too damn fancy for a skinning shack. The big hunters, who would have that kind of money, don't do their own skinning. This is something else."

  "Something else, indeed.” Ana frowned as she scrolled through records. “The lock is registered to a Jake Waterman, but the shack is still in Billy Joe's name."

  Kyra turned to glare at her. “Are you kidding me?"

  "Nope."

  "Son of a bitch. Get Billy Joe on the comm-u."

  * * * *

  Billy Joe shut the door of his vehicle and walked toward the two of them reluctantly. “Now, I gotta tell you ladies, I'm getting sort of tired of seeing you."

  "Yeah, well, you aren't our idea of a hot date, either.” Kyra motioned toward the shack. “This is your place?"

  He frowned and nodded. “Yeah. The roof is new, but it's mine. Since I host other hunters, I always try to build sturdy shacks. No need to build something the bayou will swallow up in a few years. It would just be a waste of credits. I'm surprised to see it's still private. I haven't paid the maintenance taxes on it in years, figured the park service would have taken it over by now."

  "The lock?"

  "Never bother to lock my shacks."

  Kyra pulled out her gun and took dead aim at the lock. She fired, and the lock hissed with the impact of the electrically charged bullet. She fired a second time, and the lock swung loose from the wall to dangle by a single wire.

  "You sure showed that lock,” Ana murmured dryly as she watched Kyra jerk at the door. It opened, and she hesitantly moved forward to follow.

  "You stay put.” Kyra pointed at Billy Joe.

  He nodded. “Yes, ma'am."

  Kyra let the beam of her flashlight slide around the room. Neat and orderly shelves ran along the wall. At the end of the first shelf system, she found a single shelf with a mirror above it, and a series of glass cases filled with liquid. The skin was attached to the back of the thin glass box; the tattoo of a black cat with jewel-green eyes blinked at her.

  "Oh, God."

  "Don't throw up in here."

  "I won't!” Ana insisted.

  "Donna LaRoux, Janie Monroe.” Kyra paused at the skin in the next box. “He put the tattoo back on Stacy before he killed her.” The fanciful blue dragon with its fairy wings made her stomach roll. The next box on the shelf held skin from the dead cop, identified by an intricate and detailed rendition of a badge. “And he tattooed Casey, as well."

  "The sick bastard.” Ana used her p-pc to take pictures of each case and then cleared her throat. “I've put in a request for a CSU team."

  "Get Marcos out here, too."

  Kyra moved her flashlight around and found a board full of pictures on the back wall of the structure. “He spent a lot of time watching them.” As she'd suspected, there were no pictures of Casey. “He chose her because of me."

  "She worked the first two scenes. He could have chosen her then."

  "He could have just as easily chosen you.” Kyra turned to look at her. “He didn't take you because he didn't want me to take it personally."

  "Every cop takes the death of another very personally."

  "I guess he doesn't agree.” Kyra looked back to the pictures, her gaze running over the faces of the dead women. She didn't agree, either; she knew she would have taken the death of her partner far more personally than she had a cop she'd only spoken to once. “
He thinks we're playing a game."

  "Yeah."

  "He sat there right in front of me and told me how Donna was a victim of her family's love and overprotectiveness, when all along she was really his victim. A victim of his anger and hatred.” The thought that he had been so close in the very beginning made her blood boil. “I never once considered him a serious suspect in Donna's murder."

  "He didn't have a motive."

  "No. He still doesn't, yet we know he did it.” Her gaze jerked back to the pictures. “Glory.” She reached out to the candid picture of her friend, but pulled her hand back.

  With a shaking hand, Kyra punched Glory's code into her comm-u. The call was answered in three rings. “Glory, where are you?"

  "Inspector, I'm so glad you called."

  Kyra closed her eyes and didn't react when Ana grabbed her arm to steady her. “Hello, Aaron."

  "I haven't been Aaron in quite a while."

  "You're Aaron to me,” Kyra responded. She opened her eyes and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Have you killed her?"

  "No. No, not yet.” He sighed. “So glorious is Glory. I know you think so. Your best friend?"

  "We've known each other for a long time.” Kyra walked out of the shed and looked around. “Do you know where I am, Aaron?"

  "No. Let me guess? Are you at the station or perhaps you are at home? Are you lying in your bed, Kyra? Did that new man of yours fuck you well?"

  "No, you aren't very good at guessing.” She looked back to the shed. “You really should have taken the time to paint the roof. It's starting to rust."

  Silence followed her gently spoken words.

  "Come now, Aaron, the silent treatment?"

  "Don't touch them! You can't touch them!"

  "What you took? I can't touch what you took?” She looked back to the shed and then to Ana, who was on her own comm-u several yards away. “You know, Aaron, almost everyone believes you're insane. It's a good thing for you; you won't be executed or put into a general population prison. They'll put you in a private room in a hospital. A nice, private place where you can learn to be a better person."

  "I'm not going into any fucking hospital!"

  "Well, that wouldn't be my preference, either.” She closed her eyes. “I'd like to put you in a hole. A nice, deep hole. I might even let you have a coffin."

  "Listen, and listen well. I am in control here. I have your friend, Kyra. Your glorious and beautiful friend, and I'll make her pay for every wrong you've done me. Did you honestly think that dead cop was your punishment? Did you?” He laughed softly as if amused by his own words. “She got in my way, but she made a pretty edition to the legacy."

  "You should have come at me."

  "What fun would that be? You wouldn't scream for me or cry. You wouldn't beg me to stop. Not you, never you. But she'll cry for me. She'll cry and scream and beg. She'll call out for help. For you. But you won't be here in time. You won't make it, Kyra. You'll be too late. Too late, again. You will figure out where I've left your dear dead friend, and then, Kyra, then you'll cry. You'll rage that you could not stop me. Rage that you aren't a good enough cop to protect her."

  Kyra was still long after he disconnected. She was as close to shattering into a million pieces as she ever had been in her life. An unwanted image from her childhood swept through her mind, and she stumbled backward and would have fallen if Ana hadn't steadied her.

  "They couldn't trace it."

  "He would have thought of that.” She cleared her throat. The image of her mother, dead on the bathroom floor, lingered another few seconds; she pushed it far back.

  "Where would he take her?” Ana asked softly. “He's looked at you, Kyra, looked at your life and your past. Where would he have taken her?"

  Kyra shook her head. “Too late, again.” She rubbed her face and winced when a stream of headlights hit her. The CSU unit had arrived. “Billy Joe, you stay and give the team the permissions they need to complete the search. It's your property."

  Billy Joe nodded and walked off toward the CSU van.

  "He never gave me any clue as to how to find the other women. He didn't want me to find the other women.” Kyra shuddered and rubbed her face.

  "No, but he wants you to find Glory."

  "Too late, again."

  "It would be very personal,” Ana whispered.

  Kyra nodded. “Yes, personal. He wouldn't have used an old case against me. He knows that I wouldn't be the cop I am if I couldn't let those failures go."

  "Kyra, who has died in your life? Someone important."

  "My first partner, but I was on the scene.” She rubbed her face. “My mother, but she died when I was young.” Her mother on the bathroom floor. Dried blood on the floor. How long had her mother lain there? Kyra shuddered because suddenly she knew. “Christ.” She punched her grandmother's number in and waited with closed eyes until she answered. “Nana."

  "Kyra, dear, it's the middle of the night."

  "Nana, please, look out to the carriage house. Tell me what you see."

  "Let me get up."

  Kyra listened in silence and started walking toward her vehicle, Ana silent beside her. “Nana."

  "I'm looking,” Sharon snapped. “Oh, well, there is a light on. Should I send Henry out to investigate?"

  Kyra blanched at the thought. “No, absolutely not! You and the mayor stay in the house. Make sure your security system is armed."

  "Kyra, you're frightening me."

  She yanked the transport door close and started the engine. “Good. You keep your ass upstairs in your bedroom, and the mayor does not leave that house. Understood?"

  "Yes, yes, of course."

  Kyra disconnected without another word. She half-listened as Ana rattled off instructions to dispatch.

  "Tell me."

  "No."

  "I have a right to know before we go into that house."

  She did. God, she did have a right to know. Kyra swallowed hard, and for a second, just a second, wanted to lie. Wanted to be able to lie. “My mother killed herself in that carriage house."

  "Ah, crap."

  "I was eight. She woke me up that morning, got me ready for school like it was any other day, told me how much she loved me, and then she kissed me goodbye.” Kyra cleared her throat. “When I came home from school, I found her on the bathroom floor. She'd slit her wrists."

  "You found her."

  "Yes."

  "He knows that."

  "Yes."

  "How the hell does he know that?” Ana demanded. “Our records are sealed when they issue our badge."

  "You'll have to remember to ask him that before I shove my foot through his head."

  Kyra gripped the wheel tighter as she considered what she might find in that horrible, sprawling bathroom. She hadn't gone into the carriage house since that day. “He said that Casey got in his way."

  "So, he was using her?"

  "Yes. Her psych profile indicated that she was a careful and reasoned thinker. She wouldn't have gone off half-cocked after a killer. She must have given something away when she realized that her suspicions about him were true.” Kyra let herself wrangle with those questions, as her mind could not fully wrap itself around the thought of her best friend in the hands of a madman.

  The driveway was lit when she arrived, and so was every light in the house. Her grandmother must have hit the emergency call button on her security system. Kyra shoved the vehicle into park just inches from her grandmother's newly renovated antebellum porch and swung out of the vehicle, pulling her weapon.

  She pointed one finger at her grandmother and the mayor, who came bustling out of the house. “Back in the house. I have backup on the way."

  "Kyra,” Sharon gasped.

  "Just get back in the damn house,” Kyra shouted over her shoulder as she ran toward the carriage house. All the lights were on in it, as well.

  The front door was standing open; a chair on the porch was turned over. It looked for all the world
like what it was—a mausoleum. Sharon Moray had changed nothing about the house since her daughter killed herself in it. Kyra pushed back memories as she rushed through the house, her gaze darting into the rooms that had once been her whole world.

  Kyra sucked in a breath as she grabbed the bathroom doorknob. “I'm going to kill him when I find him."

  "Okay."

  "You just need to know that. I won't expect you to cover for me."

  Kyra didn't wait for Ana to respond; she pushed open the door, and her knees buckled.

  Leaving her gun on the floor, she crawled to Glory and pulled her pale and seemingly lifeless body into her lap. Blood was gushing out of her; he'd cut both her wrists halfway to the elbows. “Thank God.” Kyra tightened her hold on her. “She's breathing."

  "I know.” Ana jerked her belt loose from her pants and yanked it tight on one of Glory's arms. “We have to slow the bleeding down or she'll bleed out before the medics get here."

  Using one hand, Kyra unbuckled her belt and pulled it loose. “How long?"

  "Not long.” Ana grabbed Kyra's belt and started working on the other arm.

  Kyra nodded abruptly and shook Glory. “Glory? Can you hear me?"

  Ana leaned forward and resisted the urge to pat her partner. “She just needs to hold on."

  * * * *

  I gave too much away. She found her too soon. I know we can't begin to break her until we've made her suffer. The friend was supposed to die; another failure. She has to be weakened if she is to become the vessel of your glorious spirit.

  How do you stand to love me, with all of my failures? No, no, I know I shouldn't doubt you. You do love me. You love me for the sacrifices I've made, all of them. You are the only one who ever loved me enough.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kyra held her hands under the faucet until the water no longer ran pink. Ana was beside her, drying her hands with a towel. “She'll be okay."

  "Yeah,” Ana agreed. “She'll be fine."

  Kyra took the towel when she offered it and started drying her hands. “She doesn't have any family."

  "You should go be with her."