by Carsen Taite
It would be so much easier to be the one on the other end. The one who didn’t get caught up in feelings other than the immediate need to feel good. She’d assumed Ellen wouldn’t be like that, but she wasn’t sure why. Good little rich girl? No, it was something else. Classy. Interesting.
She washed away the evening with a long, hot shower. As she was toweling off, her phone rang and she rushed to answer, thinking maybe…
The number on the display was disappointing, but she answered anyway. “Hey, Ma.”
“What are you doing? You sound out of breath.”
Danny rolled her eyes. “I was taking a shower. You know, so I can be clean before I go to bed. I thought you’d be proud.”
“Then why are you answering the phone? Go, bathe, be a good girl.”
She knew better. “It’s okay, Ma. I was done. What do you need?”
The sigh on the other end was heavy and long. “The list is long, but I didn’t call to bother you with my troubles.”
Then why did you call? Danny prayed for patience and tried another tack. Mama Soto would not be rushed. “Did you have a good day?”
“It started good, but then the toilet in the guest bathroom overflowed. I told your father to stay out of there to keep it nice, but he doesn’t listen to me. And then when the plumber finally came, he said…”
Danny listened to her mother rail about the troubles of her day and sympathized with her father who had to endure her endless diatribes on a daily basis. The day could’ve been perfect by anyone else’s standards, but Mama Soto would find something to complain about. She loved her mother, but then she didn’t have to live with her.
She tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder and went in search of clothes, murmuring an occasional “oh” and “I can’t believe that” in response to whatever new subject her mother addressed at the moment.
Dressed in boxers and tank and ready for bed, she finally cut to the chase by yawning audibly. Only took a moment for the expected response.
“It’s late, dear. You should go to bed.”
“Good idea, Ma. You sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“No, dear. Get a good night’s sleep.”
“I will. Good night.” Danny started to hang up, but a bellow from the other end of the line stopped her.
“Oh, wait!”
“Yes?”
“I remember what I called you about. Come to dinner Saturday night. For Joe’s birthday. I’m making his favorites.”
Of course you are. Danny’s brothers were spoiled rotten. Joe may be forty years old, married, with kids, but on his birthday, his mommy treated him like a boy prince. Whatever she thought were his favorites were likely to have changed long ago, but he’d ooh and aah over his mother’s creations like the proud son he was. For her birthday, Danny got to help cook like the little lady her mother wished she was.
“You can bring a date.”
Danny sighed at her mother’s hopeful tone. “Thanks, Ma, but it’ll be just me.”
When she was finally able to hang up, she was no longer tired. Restless, mind and body, she prowled her apartment, looking for something to occupy her thoughts. Did Ellen have a mother who nagged her to be more of a lady? Doubtful. She was the model woman—fashionable, pretty, and a gracious hostess. If the roles had been reversed and Danny had invited Ellen to her place, not that that would happen, then she would only have light beer in cans and questionably fresh potato chips to offer. Maybe she should’ve listened to her mother, learned more social skills, been more of a lady.
Right. She’d spent her life making her own way, breaking down barriers. She wasn’t about to conform to the roles her mother and her mother’s mother expected from her. The irony struck her hard again. She’d missed out tonight because she hadn’t been willing to do what was expected of her. Ellen had wanted sex and she’d expected Danny to deliver. Why shouldn’t she? People had a right to their expectations. Who was she to defy them?
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d call Ellen. See if she’d agree to another date, or whatever she wanted to call it. Like it would kill her to have a good time. If Ellen didn’t mind being a temporary stop, then why should she care? She crawled into bed and closed her eyes. She still wasn’t tired, but now at least she had a plan to take care of her restlessness.
*
“Jill, do you know where the invite to the mixer at The Joule is? I swear it was sitting right here.” Ellen pawed the contents of her desk, without success. Seconds later, Jill strolled into her office with the invite in her hand.
“I thought you wanted me to decline.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I’ll RSVP for you. Are you bringing a date?”
“Hardly.” If last night’s disaster was any indication, her small foray back into the dating scene was a misstep on the road to what she really wanted. Release. Clearly, she’d sent Danny the wrong signals. Or maybe Danny just wasn’t into her. She’d spent the morning torn between whether she should give her a call or just move on. Maybe all she needed was a night in a bar with drinks, lowered inhibitions, and an opportunity to get laid without having to exchange a bunch of personal information first.
“You work too much.” Jill sat down across from her desk, her gaze was full of concern.
“I work just enough. I just haven’t allowed myself a personal life in a while.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, no particular reason.” Ellen cursed inwardly at her over share. No way was she going to start a personal discussion with her assistant about the personal life she worked so hard to compartmentalize. Where would she start anyway? With her mother who was tucked away in a home and only remembered who she was half the time? Or her father who moved across the country to hide from a life he could no longer handle? Her present life dictated her future. Relationships didn’t work.
Maybe she was going about this in the wrong way. She shouldn’t have made a date. She hadn’t dated in a while, but she still remembered that the process was about getting to know someone, and as much as she wanted to get to know Danny, she had no desire for Danny to get to know her. She’d decided to settle for sex, but she’d forgotten to send Danny the memo, and now she was pissed at her heavy-handed attempt to circumvent the whole getting-to-know-you process. She should’ve been honest about wanting to hook up. Who knows, Danny might have been relieved to know she didn’t have to work hard to get between the sheets.
She should call. Apologize at least. She owed Danny an explanation. Or maybe she just didn’t want Danny to think she was a slut. If only she could figure out a way to offer an explanation without Danny realizing she had kind of assumed she was a slut as well. It wasn’t a crime to want to sleep with a woman, was it? She’d meant it as a compliment. Really.
Jill stood up and Ellen realized she’d drifted off. She laughed off her mental struggle. “Maybe I’ll find a date at the mixer. If I brought a date, I wouldn’t be able to look around.”
“Kind of looked like that attorney was checking you out. Maybe you should see if she’s free.”
“Really, you thought she was checking me out?”
“Uh, yeah. And she brought you coffee. First thing in the morning. Definitely not one of her regular duties. Pretty sure she’s into you. Maybe you should ask her out. Besides, have you been to one of these mixers in a while?”
Instant guilt. She really should attend these events since they were part of the coordinated networking efforts of her office, but her desire to avoid social situations combined with dealing with her mother’s affairs meant she’d sent Jill and other staff members in her place to these after-hours events. “No, why?”
“They tend to be heavy on the cougar and less on eligible bachelorette set. Maybe cougar’s what you’re looking for, but I don’t really see you hooking up with someone old enough to be your mother.”
Ellen winced at the unintentional reference to her mother even as she tried to picture Vivian Davenport at a hip and trendy bar. Di
d not compute. Looked like she’d better find another source for the no strings hook-up. “Fine, I guess I won’t be trolling for women at the mixer, but I should go. I’ve shoved a lot of these evening events on you and the rest of the staff. It’s time I got more involved.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, it seems like you’ve had a lot going on. Anything you want to talk about?”
She did and she didn’t. Her mother’s admonitions echoed. Ladies, if they feel they must have a career, should not discuss their personal lives in the workplace. Her mother wasn’t old enough to be that stodgy, but her own upbringing as a socialite had skewed her view of the world. Vivian’s old-fashioned ways hadn’t rubbed off on her, but Ellen stubbornly clung to her desire to keep up appearances. Maybe she wasn’t that much different from her mother after all.
But then she remembered her behavior from the night before. Plying a date with alcohol, trying to get into her pants within minutes after inviting her in under other pretenses. No, she was vastly different from her dear old mother.
*
Danny plucked the cup of coffee from George’s grasp. “Did you bring lunch? Or do I have to survive on caffeine alone?”
He produced a bag from behind his back. “Only enough for us. No handouts for the feds in this bag.”
She grabbed the bag of Dickey’s barbecue out of his hand and prowled through the contents. She’d spent the entire morning at police headquarters and, since she’d skipped breakfast, she was starving. The closest restaurant was a place called Chicken and Things and she hadn’t thought she was hungry enough to try any “things,” but today she might be. She wolfed down half a chopped beef sandwich. “Are they here yet?”
“Just saw them with the chief. I expect they’ll be throwing their weight around any minute. Although I suspect you might enjoy it, at least when it comes to one of them.”
Danny swallowed her gulp of coffee, but before she could ask George what he meant, they were interrupted by the booming voice of Chief Larry Dunbar. “Soto, Ramirez, meet Special Agents Sarah Flores and Peter Buckner.”
Danny wiped her mouth, fixed her face into a fake smile, and turned around to meet her nemesis.
A nemesis wasn’t supposed to look this good. Agent Flores was tall, dark, and handsome. Dressed in a sharply tailored navy blue suit, she was every bit the cliché of an FBI agent. Her deep chocolate eyes were steady and commanding, but looking closer, Danny caught a hint of a grin in her eyes, the only crack in her G-woman façade. She reached out a hand.
It hung in the air. Guess the feds are too good to shake hands with us local folks. Whatever. Wasn’t like Dallas was some Podunk town. The Dallas police were better equipped to handle a murder investigation than the feds who only caught these kind of cases if they were lucky.
“Are you offering that to me? The way you were chomping on it earlier, I’m a little scared to take it from you.”
“What?” Danny frowned and looked down at her lonely hand. She still held half her sandwich, sauce dripping on the floor. She met Sarah’s eyes. They were full on laughing now and she recognized the twitch of her face as a choked back smile. She smiled big. “You were wrong not to take it when you had the chance.”
“I’ll remember that when, or if, you ever offer me anything again.”
Her voice dropped low as she delivered the last few words, leaving Danny no doubt that she wasn’t talking about a sandwich. She’d been solid about hating these folks before they arrived, but now…Well, now Sarah Flores was striking and quick and she liked barbecue. What wasn’t to like?
“This is Peter. He and I are part of the Bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
Danny stuck her free hand Peter’s way and he met it with a firm grasp, which surprised her because he looked like someone who regularly got his butt kicked in high school. In fact, he looked like he was still in high school. He murmured a greeting and, despite the strong handshake he’d offered, she quickly decided Flores was in charge. “ADA Danielle Soto.” She started to say “call me Danny” but decided the familiarity might scare him.
Flores held up an iPad. “We’ve reviewed everything you sent yesterday. Anything new to report?”
George cracked a smile. “No new deaths. Other than that, you are up to date. The tox screen and any DNA analysis is going to take a while. In the meantime, we figured you’d want to go over the patterns we’ve been able to determine so far.”
“Assuming they are different from what we’ve already discovered, sure.”
Danny could practically see the smoke coming out George’s ears after Flores’ know-it-all response, so she took the lead and directed them to the conference room they’d designated as their war room for the cases. The walls were covered with photos of the dead women, the crime scenes, and all the forensic information they had so far. In addition, George had a group of cops in the room, partly for help and partly for show.
Danny took a seat in the back of the room. This was a law enforcement show. She was here to monitor, offer suggestions, and facilitate gathering of evidence. Sarah and George could arm wrestle over who was the best dick in the room. George started to call the meeting to order, but a uniformed officer appeared at the door and waved him out of the room. Danny took the short break as an opportunity to review her notes. She didn’t get far before a shadow fell over the page in her hand.
“Mind if I sit here?” Sarah didn’t wait for an answer before sliding in the seat next to her.
“I don’t mind. Although you strike me as a front of the room kind of gal.”
“You learn more by observing than you do with bluster.”
“I’ll make a note.” Danny kept her head down, hoping Sarah would get the hint and leave her alone.
“I thought you were a cop.”
“I’m not.”
“Clearly.”
Danny heard the slight and couldn’t resist hitting back. “You, on the other hand, ooze cop from your pores.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
Of course she did. “Your choice.”
“Do you always give such curt answers?”
“Are you always so inquisitive?”
“It’s my job. Besides,” Sarah lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “You make me very curious. Are you busy later?”
The tone of her voice signaled she was asking about personal busy, not work busy. Danny flashed back to an image of Ellen coming on to her last night. A much more engaging prospect than the dominating cop pursuing her now, but somehow the same. Later, she planned to call Ellen, make nice, and make a date for whatever Ellen wanted. Sarah would have to find some other way to entertain herself while she was in town. “Very.”
“Too bad. Working a case gets me all keyed up. I’m always looking for some release.”
Danny ignored the invitation. Sarah Flores was trouble. Granted, she might be a lot of fun, but if she was going to fuck around, she wanted Ellen. And who knows? Maybe if Ellen got to know her, she might want more. Hell, she sounded like a little girl. A pathetic little girl.
But she resolved to call anyway. First break she got.
George cleared his throat and Danny turned her focus to the front of the room for his presentation.
“We have four victims. All between the ages of fifty-five and sixty. Three white, one African-American. Each kill occurred at the victim’s home, and we believe the killer entered under the guise of a flower delivery man based on the presence of fresh flowers, still in wax paper. That is the only detail we’ve released to the press in an effort to warn the public to be cautious. The flowers were white roses. No one outside of this room except the Chief and the DA know that particular detail.”
“And the cause of death in each case?” Sarah tossed out the question while looking at her iPad. She probably knew the answer already, which left Danny wondering why she bothered to ask. She shot a glance at George. He nodded and she answered the question herself.
“Gunshot wound to the chest. The
other injuries, including the skin carvings, were inflicted postmortem. The noose was only there for show.”
“Connections between the women?” Sarah was no longer looking at George as she asked her questions. Instead, she was firmly focused on Danny.
Danny shook her head, and deferred to George who answered, “We’re working on that, so far we don’t know of anything else that connects all of them. Plus, as I’m sure you know, it’s highly unusual for a serial killer to perform cross racial killings.”
Peter Buckner piped in. “Unusual, but not unheard of. Why are you certain you have a serial killer? Isn’t it true that the last kill contained different modalities than the first three?”
Modalities? Seriously, who was this guy? Danny couldn’t resist cutting in. “The ‘modalities,’ and I hope you don’t talk like that when you’re on the witness stand, weren’t different; there were just more of them. Looks to me like the killer’s getting angrier.”
“Looks to me like he’s taking them more personally,” Sarah interjected. “And you can be sure we know what we’re doing. Here and in the courtroom.”
Again with the smoky look, implying a level of familiarity Danny wanted to avoid. She started to tell Sarah to back off, but stopped when a uniformed officer stuck his head in the door and waved George over. The rest of the personnel in the room took the moment to talk among themselves, but she walked to George’s side and snuck a look at the papers the officer had handed him.
“Anything good?”
“Not sure yet.” He handed her an envelope. “This one has your name on it. You expecting something?”
She shook her head before she remembered it might be the information she’d asked her court investigator to look up about Joyce Barr. Not ready to share what might turn out to be nothing, she tucked the envelope under her arm and said, “Probably just some court filings.”
He handed over half of his stack of paper. “These are more statements from the patrol officers who canvassed the neighborhoods. You go through this and I’ll go through the rest. We can use one of the witness rooms down the hall. “
“Gladly. I’d like nothing more than to catch a break before these know-it-alls pretend they solved the case all on their own.”
