by Virna DePaul
“What guy?” Carrie and Jase asked at the same time.
“His next target. If we’ve decoded his blogs correctly, he’s already got his sights on a another victim. A man this time.”
“Show us,” Jase ordered.
Maybe it was simply Tanaka’s certainty that the killer had already picked out a third victim. Or maybe it really was because she was tired and hungry and feeling burned out. In either case, even though he wasn’t even talking to her, the sound of Jase’s authoritative voice rankled Carrie. As much help as he’d been, she couldn’t forget she was the lead on this case. She needed to act like it. “Wait,” she said to Tanaka. “Before you show us the blogs, tell me what we’re doing to track him down.”
Beside her, Jase shifted impatiently, but listened as Tanaka talked.
“Tech just called me with the results on the ISP search. They’ll keep working on it, but it looks like Darwin’s using proxy servers, which makes him even harder to track.”
Darwin? So this second killer had finally earned his own moniker. “And you said the blog entries themselves were useless?”
“Right. Other than a possible motive, he doesn’t reveal much.”
Carrie remembered Sorenson and Ryan’s ravaged bodies. Murder she could understand. Focusing on them because of their beauty made sense, too. But what kind of motive was Tanaka talking about? “What hints?”
“Not sure. Again, it has something to do with power. And beauty. The commander wants Dr. Hudson to look it over. If she can’t come up with anything, he’s going to send things over to the FBI.”
Carrie nodded. Of course, Commander Stevens would want to keep things internal if at all possible before asking the FBI for any more help. Despite his confirmation that she and Jase had “impressed” some people at the FBI, there was still that ever-present sense of autonomy and competitiveness separating the state and federal agencies.
Besides, Lana was good at her job, Carrie conceded, even if she sometimes pushed when Carrie didn’t want her to. In truth, she and Jase probably should have consulted with her as soon as they began to link the murders to movies involving beauty. She’d make sure they did so as soon as they could. Lana might be able to give them some insight into this killer.
“What about Lana?”
Carrie looked up. Simon had walked into the room, and she knew immediately that the tension in his broad shoulders had nothing to do with the job so much as the mention of Lana’s name. He was careful not to let the emotion show on his face, but she knew it was there.
“Stevens has asked Lana to look over some blogs that might have been written by our serial killer.” She finally looked down at the blogs Tanaka had handed them. There were three pages.
Three. For three victims.
Knowing that Tanaka had his own work to get back to, Carrie thanked him.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Keep me posted. I want to know when you nail this creepy fuck.”
“Same goes for me,” Simon said before stalking off.
“You think he’s going to see Lana?” Jase asked her.
“I’d bet on it. Now, let’s sit down and read these blogs.”
The first one was short and dated right around the time Kelly Sorenson had been killed. According to the code that Tanaka and Miller had put together, the blog read:
I killed last night. A prostitute who’d probably been too high on meth to show me a decent time anyway. She’d thought she was doing me a favor. Laughed at me. Kept yapping until it hurt my ears. I wrapped my hands around her neck to shut her up. She died and that’s when I knew.
By killing her, I’d made her see my power. My beauty. I’d had the last laugh. And liked it. Fate had led me to her.
She was the first. But she won’t be the last.
“He calls her a prostitute,” Carrie murmured. “So he knew Kelly Sorenson was an escort. And that he was going to be her ‘charity case’ for the evening. Obviously he didn’t like that.”
“Can’t blame him for that.” Jase jerked his chin, indicating she should flip to the next blog post, which she did.
Killing the prostitute had been easy. A snap. LOL. Anyone could have done it. Last night I proved I can do better.
Better prey. Stronger prey. It makes killing all the sweeter.
Survival of the fittest.
In eradicating the strong, I will grow stronger. In eliminating perfection, I will become perfect.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The strong shall inherit the Earth.
Death is the ultimate equalizer.
“You were right,” Carrie said. “He’s not only killing to punish people for how they treated him, but because he thinks it’s curing some kind of defect he has.”
“But now he wants to amp things up? He’s getting tired of killing women who weren’t posing enough of a challenge for him?”
“Right. So he’s going to kill a man. Assuming that Tanaka is right.”
“Flip to the next one.” He moved closer to read over her shoulder. His chest brushed her shoulder, and his breath tickled her neck, but for the first time his presence comforted her rather than rattled her.
Carrie flipped the page to the next entry.
She sucked in a breath. “He wrote it today. This morning.”
He thinks he’s a God but he’s not. She adores him, but she shouldn’t. He’s nothing. Less than nothing. When I kill him, however, his power will become mine. His strength will make me stronger. My scars will finally be gone and finally, I won’t be alone. She’ll see how much time she’s wasted on him and she’ll be mine. My angel. Together we’ll thrive, and make those who’ve mocked us regret it.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Tanaka’s right.” She turned to once more meet Jase’s gaze. “He knows who he wants to kill. Not just a random man but someone specific.”
Jase stared at her grimly before speaking. “But who’s this angel he’s talking about being with once he kills his next target? And afterward, is she going to be with him voluntarily or not?”
* * *
JASE STARED INTO Carrie’s horrified eyes.
He wanted to reassure her. To tell her they’d find the bastard before he killed again.
He couldn’t.
Even so, the connection that had been between them had only grown stronger as a result of the work they’d been doing together. He felt steadied by her very presence, and he prayed that he offered her the same kind of strength in return.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tightness that radiated up his neck and into the base of his skull. This case was going to explode in the press soon. They’d tried to keep things under wraps, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long, especially not with these blogs on the internet.
Darwin, as Tanaka had dubbed him, clearly wasn’t done yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THEY GOT THE CALL about Darwin’s third victim the very next day.
Tony Higgs had been twenty-two-years-old, his whole life laid out ahead of him. Handsome. Popular. Well-liked. His girlfriend, Ashley Hartford, swore he was a nice guy who’d been willing to help anyone out. Unfortunately, what he’d gotten in return was a vicious death, one involving a chain saw. Like the two before him, however, his eyelids had been cut off.
Jase was right in the middle of interviewing Ashley. He hadn’t been able to get much else from the crying girl, and Jase tried to temper his impatience with compassion. The girl had just learned her boyfriend had been brutally murdered. She had a right to grieve. Still, he had a job to do. He needed to find out as much as possible about Tony Higgs. His friends. His routine. Especially his school habits.
While Tammy Ryan hadn’t attended Sequoia College, Tony Higgs had. That meant that next to the horror movies, the college connection was still the best chance they had of solving the case. Maybe they’d missed something before. Something that could lead them to Darwin.
“So there was no one who had a grudge against Tony? Yo
u’re sure?”
Ashley looked up, her perfect makeup smeared across her face, all thought of looking good forgotten in her grief. “No. No one! Everyone loved Tony.”
Jase doubted that. According to Darwin’s blog, Higgs hadn’t been the perfect man Ashley thought he’d been. He’d pissed Darwin off. For some reason or another, imagined or otherwise. And it had definitely had to do with a girl. Could that girl have been Ashley?
“Could someone have been jealous of him? Has anyone shown an inordinate amount of interest in you?”
She just started crying again. Shaking her head. Jase bit back his frustration. Out of his periphery, he saw someone enter the interview room. He sighed.
Carrie. She walked in, nodded and took a seat next to him. Ashley glanced up at her but then started crying again. Jase waited a few minutes until she’d calmed down.
“What about girls? Someone who liked him? Someone who was jealous of you?”
She nodded her head. “There were all kinds of girls who liked Tony. I mean, he is…” Her voice cracked. “He was the college quarterback. Water-polo captain. Gorgeous.”
“But anyone specific you can think of?”
She shook her head. “He never talked to other girls. He was very respectful of me.”
Jase closed his notepad, ready to leave her to her mother who was waiting outside.
“Wait.” Ashley reached out and touched his forearm, catching him off guard. Her grip seemed strong for such a slight person. “There was one girl. A girl who’s been tutoring him. But she’s a total nerd.”
Jase opened his pad again. “What’s her name?”
“Nora. Nora Lopez.”
“She’s a student, too?”
Ashley nodded. “He was prepping for his chem final on Friday. She was meeting him every afternoon. At a café across from campus. It’s called Steam. She must have been the last one to see him.” Ashley dissolved into hysterical tears again, but Jase barely heard her.
A campus café. They’d have to check it out. Maybe it was a place that Sorenson and Ryan had frequented. If so, it could be where Darwin was picking out his victims.
* * *
NORA HAD GREETED BRAD warmly when she’d arrived at Steam. Just like always, she took the time to ask him how he was doing and what he had planned for the day. She found a table in the back and watched the door eagerly. Five minutes went by. Then ten. After twenty minutes, she looked annoyed. After forty minutes, sad.
In about another ten minutes, when she realized Tony had stood her up, Brad would be there to comfort her. He practically rubbed his hands together with glee.
She got up and headed toward the restrooms. Probably to cry, Brad thought with annoyance. For a moment, he felt angry. Higgs had been a loser with nothing going for him but his looks and physical strength. Didn’t she realize that? He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Telling himself she’d soon be his.
Eager to talk to her, he rushed to stock the open display shelf in front of the cash registers. He was almost done when the café’s front entry doors opened and two people walked in.
Brad recognized the police officers instantly. The badass detective with the fancy clothes and the redhead from McGill’s Bar. Brad’s heart almost leaped out of his chest, and panic caused him to clench his fists so that he mangled the packaged pastries he’d been handling.
Shit. Had they somehow traced the blog to him? But that was impossible. He’d been so smart. So careful.
He forced himself to remain calm. He put his hands in his pockets, turned and started to walk toward the back room. Toward the back exit. He stiffened when he heard a voice call out to him.
“Excuse me.”
It was the woman.
He stopped abruptly, his hand tightening on the blade in his left pocket. He wondered if he could outrun her.
“You work here?” she asked.
Brad half turned toward her, making sure he remained in profile. “Yeah. Can you hang on a second?”
“Turn around and face me, please.” The command was spoken politely, but it was still a command that she clearly expected him to obey. With no other choice, Brad slowly turned the rest of the way and raised his head.
Would they see it? The scar? The blood on his hands?
She frowned. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so.” But she’d seen him before, just as he’d seen her. She obviously just couldn’t place him. Which was good, really, but it made him mad. Was he that unimportant to people? How could she help but notice him with the damn ugliness on his face?
When the man she was with turned and looked at him, there was no recognition on his face, either. What a hoot. Although the woman’s eyes flickered to his hands, which were still in his pockets, they found nothing about him or his appearance surprising.
Which meant…they couldn’t see his scars.
They were finally gone.
After all the years of suffering. After killing not just Sorenson and Ryan, but Dr. Bowers, too, he’d struck on the winning combination.
Killing Tony had worked. The terror that had coalesced inside him just moments before transformed into something else.
Arrogance.
Survival of the fittest.
He was better than the police. Smarter. Stronger.
Brad let out a silent sigh of relief and took his hands out of his pockets, noticing how each of the detective’s shoulders subtly relaxed when he did so. The male detective scanned the crowded café, obviously looking for someone else.
Brad’s nerves skittered as he realized the man must be looking for Nora. That they’d made the connection between her and Tony. Shit, he didn’t want the police anywhere near her. Stay in the bathroom, he silently commanded.
When he brought his gaze back to the female cop, she was studying him carefully, but not necessarily with suspicion. She really had no clue who he was. His nerves transformed into delight.
Just as Brad had the thought, Nora exited the restroom, and he could see the detectives’ eyes light up. Brad’s confidence stuttered like a car running out of gas.
* * *
“THAT’S HER,” Jase said. “I’ll talk to her.”
Carrie turned her eyes back to the good-looking kid in front of her. She could swear she’d seen him before, but from where? She flashed her badge and identified herself as a police officer. “What’s your name?”
“Brad. Brad Turner.”
“Brad, were you working yesterday afternoon?”
“What’s this about, officer?”
Carrie smiled, albeit impatiently. It’s what everyone asked, and she understood that anyone would be nervous when being questioned by the police.
“We’re investigating a crime. Please just answer the question. Were you working yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes. I work the night shift. Two to ten. Just like today.”
Higgs had been killed sometime between 11:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. Carrie studied him more carefully. This boy was barely older than the students he served. And far from being scarred, he was the picture of all-American charm and good looks. He looked a bit like Lance Reynolds, the bartender from McGill’s.
“Tony Higgs. Do you know him?”
“Sure, I know Tony. Everyone does. Nice guy.”
“Did you see him in here last night?”
Uncertainty overtook his face, and he furrowed his brow. “Gosh, I’m not sure. I think so. We were really busy last night. It’s finals, you know. Lots of kids cramming for exams.”
Carrie looked around. The café was indeed crowded. She saw Jase talking to the girl, who was now crying and visibly shaking.
“That girl. Do you remember seeing him with her? Nora Lopez? Someone told me she tutors him here every afternoon.”
The boy looked where Carrie pointed, and seemed upset when he saw her crying. “Yeah, I know Nora. What’s happened? Why is she crying?”
Instead of answering him, Carrie pulled out several photographs. “
I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you remember seeing any of these people before.”
He looked at the photos she handed him. Kelly Sorenson. Tammy Ryan.
He pulled out the one of Sorenson. “I think I remember seeing her in here before. But I don’t recognize the other.”
A wailing came from the corner. Carrie looked over and saw Jase motioning her over with a look of panic on his face. Nora Lopez had obviously been more than Tony’s tutor. The girl was hyperventilating and looked ready to faint. Carrie pulled out her card and Jase’s card and handed them to Brad Turner.
“This is my card, as well as my partner’s. If you remember seeing these people or think of anything suspicious, will you call us, please?”
“Sure.”
But she was already hurrying toward Jase.
* * *
BRAD WATCHED THE FEMALE cop rush over to the table and escort Nora outside. They sat with her at one of the tables there, the male detective looking impatient at Nora’s hysterics.
He hated to see Nora upset, but she would’ve found out sometime. It was better this way. The faster she put Tony Higgs out of her mind, the sooner they could be together. He finished stocking the pastry case and then kept an eye on Nora while he wiped down some tables. A few minutes later, he saw the officers rise and hand Nora their cards before walking away. He straightened tables and chairs as Nora walked back into the café alone, went back to her table and started to put her stuff back into her backpack. Midway through the process, she stopped and simply slumped back in her chair, a dazed look on her face.
He shook his head again. Poor girl. She just didn’t realize how she was wasting her time, grieving for such a weakling. But she’d get over him. He’d make sure of that.
He glanced at his watch. Soon, the police would catch their killer. He’d made sure that everything was already in place. Pleasure filled him at the thought of the police breaking into his foster father’s house and putting the drugged degenerate out of his misery. He was a worthless piece of shit who’d fostered an abandoned freak of a baby simply because he and his druggie wife had wanted the cash. He wouldn’t be expecting Brad to take his revenge. Revenge for years of abuse and neglect. Revenge for years of being made to feel like an ugly beast that needed to be hidden away.
