Mystery: The Card Counter: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery)

by James Kipling

  Between the pants, I could hear Tina whisper something to me. “Put it in me.”

  Despite the fact that I was in a public place, I did as she asked. I pulled up her skirt and her panties were already around her ankles. Moments later I was inside her. I slowly started to thrust, pushing her into the side of the stall. All of a sudden, I didn’t care about my suit anymore as we were both sweating from the workout we were giving one another, and I could feel the heat generating in both our bodies as we didn’t stop for anything.

  Moments later, I was finished. I gasped like I had been underwater for five minutes, and I was sincerely hoping someone wasn’t outside the stall listening to us. That hadn’t stopped us from doing it in the first place, though, and I felt so exhilarated and yet so embarrassed at the same time. Tina and I gave each other a little space as we began to pull our clothes back on one another. “Wow,” was just about the only thing I could whisper at that particular time.

  “I know,” Tina whispered back as she started to button her blouse after putting her bra back in order. “I thought it would be better getting this over with now, so that we wouldn’t have to make excuses.”

  “Make excuses for what?” I asked as I tucked my shirt back into my trousers and started to straighten my tie.

  “For going back to work,” she said as she leaned over and gave me another soft and delicate kiss. “We’ve both got a job to do, so now that this is out of the way, let’s get back to work.” She opened the stall and strolled out. I walked out, as well, and thankfully no one was there, which made me feel a little bit better.

  She had already paid the bill before coming to the bathroom, which might explain why no one came looking for us. I walked her back to her car outside. She kissed me one more time and laughed as she wiped the lipstick from the side of my lips. “Thanks for showing me a good time, detective.”

  “I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” I said with a grin.

  “I’m sure it was,” Tina replied. “Good night, Jake. Please be careful.”

  “I will. You do the same.” We kissed one more time and then I watched as she got back into her car and drove away.

  I got back into my car and sat there for a moment and reflected on what the hell had just happened. Making out with a reporter who was covering my case didn’t seem like the best idea, but at least I didn’t spill any secrets. Not yet anyway. I started the car and left the parking lot on my way back to the station. There was still a killer out there and I had work to do.

  13

  By the time I got back to the station, the story Tina had warned me about was already airing on the local news. At this point every network had picked up on it and given the ‘Card Counter’ the infamy that the federal agents and I were trying to avoid giving him.

  I was convinced more than ever that the playing cards had nothing to do with the actual killings. When I was studying the history of homicide, killers never did this kind of bullshit. You only saw this kind of crap in the movies or mystery novels written by drunk and desperate over-the-hill writers.

  Murder was almost never something complex and creative. People killed for a reason and most of the time that reason was personal. This series of homicides was no different, as the killer had a lot of rage in the way he stabbed each victim to death and beyond. The overkill of the puncture marks gave us all an indication of just how much rage this person was going through when sending each victim to meet their alleged maker.

  There were no masks, no crazy fetish, but a history that started with a single traumatic event. That one trigger is what led our suspect to commit these brutal acts. This was revenge, plain and simple. The playing cards were nothing more than a decoy, meant to keep us from discovering the painful and very ugly truth: that this person was hurt and had suffered at the hands of these players.

  What the players did had changed the world they lived in so dramatically, they snapped inside, to the point where homicide was a line that was no longer a threshold to be afraid of. The moral compass went out the window and it was evident in the torture conducted before each of the killings.

  The killer wanted them to know about his pain, his suffering that was allegedly caused by them. This was the motive ˗ not some sick urge to play 52 pickup. I refused to let the glamour and the bullshit of the cards distract me. I was focused on the true nature of this crime, and once I found the source of that pain, I would find my killer.

  I strolled into the small room that Officer Jones had taken to do her research. There were papers everywhere and two computers being used at once to find all the information I was looking for. I had a suspicion that she hadn’t left the room at all that day, except to make an occasional bathroom break, and I imagined to get some coffee. As I stuck my head into the room, I asked her the obvious question: “Have you been here all day?”

  “Since this morning, sir,” Jones replied.

  “Shouldn’t you get out of here, get something to eat?” I inquired.

  “I don’t have time for that,” she answered.

  “I figured as much.” I pulled out a small paper bag from behind me, along with a decent sized paper cup with a lid and straw sticking out of it. “I got you a burger and some fries from Moe’s Place down the street. I didn’t know what you liked so I had them put the works on it. You can just pick off the stuff you don’t like.”

  Officer Jones looked back up at me with a smile of gratitude. “Thanks.”

  “I should be thanking you,” I said as I started to give her some space. “Just tell me you have something I can work with.”

  “So far I’ve managed to find seven people who committed suicide during the year you told me to concentrate on,” Jones answered before taking a sip of her soda. “There’re two that fit what you’re looking for, though not at the frat houses. One that took place at a sorority house and another that took place at one of the campus dorms.” She printed something and handed the two sheets to me. “I’d recommend speaking to the parents. If something horrible happened to either of them to make them want to take their own lives, this might be our motive.”

  I took the two sheets of paper from her. “I’ll look into these. Thanks,” I said walking out the door.

  “What’s going on, Walker?” Agent Collins asked as he approached.

  “I got some leads that need working on.” I checked my watch and it was close to midnight. “Not exactly the time to start knocking on doors. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until tomorrow before we follow up on these.”

  I wasn’t on the clock anymore and merely checking in to make sure everything was all right. After leaving the station, I felt it was necessary to head back for the hotel to check up on Flo and the players. Afraid that I might be tailed again, I took one of the unmarked cars and left my own at the station. Since the windows were tinted, there was no way the killer could have known I’d left the station. I was starting to get a little paranoid, but after what had happened earlier today, I doubted anyone at the station would blame me for feeling that way.

  It took me about ten minutes longer to get there, as I took an alternate route to make sure I wasn’t followed this time. I understood how paranoid that looked, but at the moment I didn’t really care. Once I got there, the first thing I did was check with Flo. I knew it was late, but I was also aware that Flo was a night owl and was most likely still awake. Sure enough, she was in the hallway with the officers there for the night guard. “How’s everything going?” I asked as I walked down the hall towards them.

  “It’s getting better,” Flo answered honestly. “The day’s been pretty rough on everyone but I don’t think we’re going to have any more runners. They’re aware of how dangerous it is for all of them out there right now.”

  “We’ve been rather frugal in these rough economic times,” I added. “We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. They need to be aware of that, as well.”

  “I’m not complaining or anything,” Flo said as I could
feel the question coming. “But how much longer do you think I’ll be here babysitting these kids?”

  I could tell that being there with them was getting to her. “Would you like me to watch them for the next day or so and give you a break?”

  “Could you?” Flo asked with a smile. She not only was getting a little antsy in this place, but wanted to get back to doing real detective work.

  “I can do that, but on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  I pulled out the papers that Jones had printed off for me earlier that night. “These are two students that committed suicide the year we think something happened. I need you to interview their parents and try and figure out if the circumstances surrounding their deaths might have something to do with what’s going on here.”

  “I can do that,” Flo said as she took the papers. “But only after I go home and sleep in my own bed.” She handed me a key. “You’re crashing here tonight.”

  “All right, I can do it,” I said with a grin. I had done my fair share of safe house protection throughout my history on the force. Whether protecting a witness before they testified or just to stop someone from getting hurt, it was something a lot of officers had to do to serve the people, and specifically those who were in danger.

  I walked back to the room where Flo was staying after talking to the officers in the hall for a few moments. As Flo had stated earlier, no one was going to run now, not after what had happened to Cody. For the kids cooped up here, the shit had gotten real despite our warnings, and now they were genuinely scared. I was back at my own room, but just before I opened the door, I remembered to knock.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called out.

  “It’s your father,” I called back.

  A few seconds later, the door unlocked as Cassie opened the door for me. As I walked in, I flashed the key to inform her of the switch. “Change of plans: you’re taking the bed and I’m on the couch.”

  “What happened to Flo?” Cassie quickly asked.

  “She’s been here for a few days,” I answered. “She deserved a break from the frat boys and the coaches, and a few days back doing real work for a change. It’s my turn to babysit for a while. Besides, I’m going to use my time here to interview some of the players about some leads I got today, see if I can find some information I need about Wally and how he conducted himself before he died.”

  “Oh,” Cassie said, as she seemed to understand. I was there to give Flo a day or two off, but the simple switch would be brushed off by the players, and that would give me a chance to question many of them with their guard down. I needed to find out what Wally had done that year. It was vital to finding my killer and putting all this death and carnage to an end. “What kind of leads are you working on?” she asked.

  I looked back at her. “We’re investigating the deaths of a few students two years ago. You were on campus that year, right?”

  “I was,” Cassie confirmed.

  “Did you know someone named Rachel Maguire?” I said to her as I pulled out a photo from my coat and showed it to her.

  “No, never heard of her,” she quickly answered.

  “How about Jasmine Roberts?” I asked as I changed to the other photo I had.

  “I knew of her,” Cassie answered. “But I didn’t know her personally.”

  “How so?” I inquired as I relaxed onto the couch.

  “She was a big shot at one of the sorority houses,” Cassie said as she walked back over to the bed. She sat down on top of the sheets and seemed genuinely interested in helping me out as much as she could, which I greatly appreciated.

  “How did you know that?”

  “I tried to become a member but was denied.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true. I didn’t fit their stupid mold.”

  “All right, their loss. Back to Jasmine Roberts...” I said as I took my suit jacket off and hung it up in the closet by the door. “She died just after the winter semester started.”

  “That’s right,” Cassie concurred. “She overdosed on some pills.”

  “That’s a standard method for women.” I began to pace around the room and think about it for a moment. “Did anything big occur between the end of the season and her death at the sorority house?”

  “There’s always a huge party after the fall semester,” Cassie answered. “It’s considered the biggest party on campus and is hosted every year by Jasmine’s sorority house. It’s the event that everyone wants to attend.”

  “Did you attend this party that year?” I asked.

  “No,” Cassie answered. “That was the year I went home right after exams to help Mom watch Abbey and Sandy. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  “No, that’s all right,” I answered with gratitude. “I’m starting to think that if Jasmine Roberts is our link to this killer, then it might have something to do with that party prior to her suicide.”

  “It would make sense considering those emails you showed Melvin. Whoever killed Wally was really, really mad at him,” Cassie said as she finally hopped under the covers of her bed and relaxed. We’d had sleepovers since she was 12 years old, so sharing a room wasn’t as earth shattering as it might be for some parents. There was a bathroom connected to the room anyway, so there was a bit of privacy available should either of us need it. She looked back at me as I relaxed on the couch. “Wouldn’t you do the same thing if it was me?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “If I did the same thing Jasmine Roberts did,” Cassie explained. “Wouldn’t you be angry enough to kill if you thought some jerk-off like Wally did something to push me to taking my own life?”

  “It’s possible I could get that angry,” I said as I sat back up. “I understand where you’re going, but the possibilities could be endless. If these killings are in fact revenge for what happened to Jasmine, it could be a friend or a family member who didn’t take her passing very well.”

  This made more sense to me than trying to work around the entire playing card crap. Revenge is a simple motive, and avenging the death of a loved one was a crime of passion. Something personal such as the torture and vicious killings we were finding over the weekend.

  “I’m sorry you’ve gotten caught up in all this. You’re going have to stay here for your own protection. I think someone may have followed me here and that’s why Cody got stabbed.”

  “He didn’t follow me, did he?” Cassie asked.

  “I think it’s more likely the person followed me from the station.” Odds were the killer would have started at the station rather than on campus where Cassie lived. I was pretty tired considering what I’d been through that day, but it wasn’t over yet. My phone began to start buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered. “Peyton, don’t you feds ever sleep?”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m in a pine box,” Agent Collins answered.

  “What’s going on there?” I asked.

  “While you were taking over babysitting duties at the hotel, I decided to go over all the lab work done on the first few bodies found here and compare them to some of the bodies we had tested out of state. There were a few differences.”

  “Such as?” I inquired, eager to know more.

  “Traces left on the victims that were sexually assaulted,” Collins explained as I could hear him pace around whatever room he was in. “The first victims out of town had traces of latex in their rectums from the assault.”

  “That’s not out of the ordinary,” I retorted. “Many serial rapists use condoms to prevent evidence from being left on the victims.”

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Collins said as he carried on. “The same latex trace was found on the coach and the second student you found here in town. The big discrepancy comes with this Wally Bennett kid.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Well, there was no latex trace, but there wasn’t any DNA either,” Collins said as he kept flipping through the papers. �
�I’m at a loss for words. I’ve never seen that before.”

  “Neither have I,” I replied, as I was just as dumbfounded about it as he was.

  ”Did you guys find any other kind of trace there?”

  “There is some trace here, but it’s more of a silicone base,” Collins answered. “I didn’t think they used that kind of material for condoms.”

  “No, they don’t use silicone for condoms,” I casually corrected him. “Latex is much cheaper and people who are allergic to them would respond the same way to silicone. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Then why did Wally have traces of silicone on him?” Collins asked.

  I was about to answer, but looked across the room to where Cassie was waving at me. “Hold on for a second,” I put the cell phone against my chest. “What is it?”

  “Silicone is used for sex toys, especially dildos,” Cassie answered.

  “Excuse me?” I called back as this was the last thing any father would want to hear his daughter confess.

  “Many women at the campus use it because they’re too dedicated to their studies to have a steady boyfriend,” Cassie continued. “Silicone is the substance of choice these days in the sex industry ... says so on Wiki.”

  I paused for a moment and then went back to Collins, who was still waiting on the phone. “I don’t know if we’re looking for a man here, after all, Peyton.”

  “What do you mean, Jake?” Collins asked.

  “Whoever is attacking these men is doing so with a sex toy, that’s where the trace of silicone could come from, I’ve just been informed,” I said sarcastically as I nodded to thank my daughter for helping me out at that particular moment, even if I’d rather not have gotten the information from her specifically. “This would suggest our profile has been wrong the entire time. If this is a woman... when she attacked Wally, she forgot to cover her weapon with a condom, which explains the lack of DNA and the presence of silicone.”

  “So the assaults on the victims...?” Collins asked.