"Did they have suspects?" Maya asked
"They had a few but no evidence. Ms. Markham was found in a closet in the basement of her parents house. There were tons of fingerprints in there, but none that didn't belong to someone living in the house. Apparently one of the children used to sleep in there. He'd turned eighteen and left, though no one could say exactly when. The mother didn't know where he went so they never did interview him.
"There was another foster child who was a trouble-maker and they had kicked him out of the house a couple of years earlier when he was sixteen. He aged out of the system and the Biloxi police couldn't locate him either. He could have been bent on revenge and murdering Kim would be a way to get back at her parents. But with no evidence to go on and no leads, they moved it to a cold case."
"So we're pretty sure it's the same unsub," Turner concluded.
"I would bet on it," Jake confirmed. "In fact, there's one more thing. Kim Markham had long dark hair."
"Just like our victims," Turner said.
CHAPTER 5
January 8
Papers crinkled, a pen sailed through the air and curses flew out of her mouth at an alarming rate as Violet dug through her briefcase. Zeus popped up from his perch on the end of the sofa. "Sorry, baby," she murmured, stroking his head. "I didn’t mean to upset you."
She'd met Todd and Chris after work for a drink, leaving her office without a folder of notes she needed to prepare for her next lecture. "Double damn."
Zeus ‘woofed’ in agreement.
With a loud sigh, she stood and headed for her boots. She wasn’t looking forward to a trip back to the school in the freezing cold but she needed those damn papers. The blinking light on her answering machine caught her eye and she debated on whether to listen or not. If it were news on Willie Jack, she’d rather not know. It could wait until she returned. More than likely, it was just a hang-up. She'd been getting many of those lately. Even though her number was unlisted and she was signed up on the Do Not Call list, certain organizations were exempt and they called repeatedly.
Her curiosity got the better of her and she padded to the machine and pressed the play button. Five messages, all hang-ups. With a frustrated sigh, she called to her dog. "Come on, Zeus, let’s go for a ride." She grabbed his leash and her coat and opened the door to the brisk January weather. Frigid air enveloped her and a shiver racked her body. "Hurry about your business and let’s get going." She hugged herself, her nose stinging in the wind as she waited for Zeus to sniff and find the exact spot, after three or four turns, to relieve himself.
Once finished, the dog raced to the Jeep, snow kicking up in his wake, white puffs of air trailing from his open mouth. He hopped around anxiously waiting for her to approach and open the door. "I’m coming, I’m coming," she muttered, popping the lock. Zeus leaped inside and hopped over to the passenger seat, making room for her. She winced at the soggy paw prints and swiped her sleeve across the seat to remove them. It was days like these that made her wish for a more practical purchase than the cute black Jeep with the canvas sides. The fabric didn’t seem to hold much warmth in, or keep the cold out. She started the engine and kicked up the heat to high. A burst of air hit Zeus in the face. His ears perked and he sniffed the vent to investigate, the same routine he went through every single time.
As she put the car in gear and headed for the school, it started to snow. "Great," she mumbled as the wipers batted furiously at the white crystals. "At this rate, we’ll have three feet by morning." Zeus responded with a jaw-cracking yawn.
She pulled up to the Classics Department and drove into a space by the entrance. "Sure would be nice to park here in the morning," she grumbled. Parking at the college, like most around the country, was at a premium. Usually Violet had to leave her Jeep in the lot down the street and hike up the hill.
Grabbing Zeus’s leash, she opened her door and waited for him to leap to the ground. He bolted straight to the snow-covered lilac bush in front of the building and sniffed. "The usual spot," she laughed, which emerged as a white puff of air from her mouth. "You are a creature of habit," she mused, watching as Zeus circled a couple of times and then hiked his leg on the shrub. She could already feel her lips going numb, knew her nose was as red as Rudolph’s. When he finished, she attached his leash. "You have to be quiet and behave," she chastised. "You know you aren’t allowed in the building."
Violet pulled out her key before noticing the door was unlocked. "That’s odd," she said, shouldering it open. She glanced around the hallway but it was deserted. Carlos never forgot something important like locking the door when he made his final rounds. Then she remembered finding his bulky set of keys earlier. She'd forgotten to return them. Well, she would in the morning. She didn’t want him getting into trouble.
The click-click of Zeus’ nails hitting the tile floor reverberated down the hall. She stopped suddenly and cocked her head to the side. What was that noise? It sounded like a grunt. Puzzled, she stuck her head into the women’s bathroom. Nothing. She ventured to the men’s room, cracking the door open. "Hello?" No response.
A chill raced down her spine. She glanced at the entrance again. A serial killer was on the loose, murdering co-eds from this campus. She shouldn’t have come here this late. Although Zeus was a fearless protector, he couldn’t stop a gun or knife.
With that thought in mind, she scurried to her office, her head swiveling to check the hallway as she made the trek. She started to insert the key into her door when a muffled sound drifted around the corner. Zeus bared his teeth and growled. Violet shushed him, stuffed the keys into her pocket, and tiptoed toward the sound. A dim white light spilled beneath the supply closet door, standing out like a beacon against the darkened shadows of the hallway. Zeus’s stance changed to alert, his ears back and his teeth bared. She tried to quiet him again but he growled a low rumble. She inched closer and plastered her ear to the door. It sounded like a man humming. She punched a button on her watch, the indigo blue light illuminating the time. It was late, but Carlos must still be here. That would explain why the front door was open. She rapped lightly. "Carlos?"
The humming stopped abruptly and the light snapped off. She rattled the handle but it was locked. Knocking harder, she called out, "Carlos? Are you in there?"
When she got no response, she feared she may have scared him. He was very shy. Maybe he didn’t realize it was her. Or maybe he was worried that he had lost his keys. She hurried to her office to retrieve them.
#
This one had been fun, the man laughed. Usually they put up such a fight, but this one had been willing. Willing, hell, she had instigated it. He just gave her what she wanted, right? Well, maybe not the last part, but one couldn’t have everything, now could they?
Having seen Rayann around campus holding hands with an attractive redhead, he always assumed her to be a lesbian. The man frowned. He didn’t like to have his routine altered. He picked his prey carefully, knowing when he spotted her she would be the next to quench his thirst until he could have the one he wanted. But this one, she'd been unexpected.
He wasn’t one to let a good opportunity go to waste.
Sonia Croft owed Rayann Jefferson a big thanks for altering her fate. Or at least delaying it. On the positive side, he already had his next victim lined up.
The big downfall was that he didn’t have time to construct his elegant prose ahead of time. The words usually came to him when he had his next victim in his sights. The words would dance around in his head falling into place. By the time he had his target acquired, the sonnet would be memorized and ready to live on in infamy.
What would this one say? He would have to wing it.
He turned on the small battery powered light he pulled off one of the shelves and began his latest masterpiece. He thought about how he'd bumped into Rayann in the hallway. She looked him up and down and he knew what she wanted. She even readily agreed to let him restrain her with ropes he found in a box on the floor. Dirty l
ittle whore.
Humming, he picked up the small paint brush from the janitor’s bucket. He had to cut some of the bristles off so that he could write with it, but it was stiff and usable. He readjusted the latex gloves and sunk the tip into the blood matting her hair.
"Roses are red," he began, still humming to himself. He dipped in again to begin the second verse when a knock on the door caused him to drop the brush.
"Carlos?"
Violet!
Damn. What was she doing here? He quickly extinguished the lamp and held his breath. He didn’t want to have to kill her tonight.
Not yet.
"Carlos, are you in there?"
The knob rattled and she knocked again. Panicked, he looked for something to restrain her. Sweat broke out along his forehead. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready for her.
Footsteps retreated down the hall. Did she leave? He snapped the light on and quickly completed the poem, revising the verse he had thought of earlier. Once he was finished he dashed to the door and listened. Nothing. He had purposefully not brought anything into the storage room that could be traced to him. Well, nothing but his knife, camera and the lingerie he swiped from Ella’s house. He quickly severed the ropes, leaving the ends attached to her wrists, then he fitted the matching bra and panty set on Rayann’s rapidly-cooling corpse. Once they were in place, he arranged her arms over her chest and snapped a picture.
Gathering up her bra and underwear, he stuffed them in his pockets, which were already full from his earlier treasure hunt. He listened again for any sound from the other side of the door. When he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped outside.
Ah, sweet, sweet Violet. He blew a kiss down the hallway, tossed the poem on the dead girl’s body and disappeared.
#
As Violet neared her office, the draft from her hurried steps pushed the door open. A prickle of fear raced down her spine. She was positive she closed it when she left work earlier. She inched closer and peeked through the opening. Nothing moved so she flipped on the light, surveying the small space. Everything seemed to be in place. Suddenly nervous, she scanned the hallway. Something strange was going on. She rushed to her desk and unlocked the bottom drawer, the one she always kept bolted, and pulled out Carlos’s massive key ring. "You stay here," she ordered Zeus as she closed the door. With a quick check in both directions, she headed back to the supply closet.
Rounding the corner, she was met with darkness. She raised her hand to knock but jumped back when, just like her office door, this one creaked open, too. Moonlight filtered into the tiny space from a small window high on the back wall. Gathering her courage, she inched forward and stuck her hand inside, fumbling along the wall for the switch. When her fingers brushed the lever, she flipped the overhead lights on to investigate and screamed.
CHAPTER 6
Violet sat huddled under a blanket with her back against the wall. She hadn’t moved since the police burst on the scene and secured the area. Zeus was lying with his big body protecting her. He knew something was terribly wrong and he wasn’t letting anyone hurt her, especially anyone male. A female officer had to question her when Zeus drove the men away.
Chris arrived shortly after the police, having seen her Jeep outside and all the flashing lights. She had rushed to her side and embraced her, going on about how glad she was that Violet wasn’t hurt. Zeus had never warmed up to her friend—he didn’t warm up to many people—but he reluctantly allowed her to comfort Violet. Chris held her hand and murmured soothing words that didn’t manage to penetrate her numb brain.
Staring at a spot on the opposite wall, she hugged the blanket around her knees. She had never seen anything so violent, so horrible. Why would someone do this to an innocent young woman?
She'd almost walked in on the killer. It had to be him. Having seen Rayann Jefferson lying dead on the floor, another thought filled her. She'd been one of her students, too.
She was so distraught, she barely noticed Chris speaking to someone and then moving away.
"Hey there, buddy. Care if I set down?"
"Well look at that." One of the officers nudged his partner. "That mutt wouldn’t let any of us near her."
Violet heard the deep, masculine voice crooning to her dog but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from the opposite wall. She felt someone ease down beside her in the spot Chris vacated. Then she realized Zeus wasn’t growling. That was odd, Zeus didn’t trust males. She'd yet to meet one who Zeus didn’t try to rip apart at the first meeting. She adopted him as a puppy after she spotted a man kicking him mercilessly. He had been close to death and Violet threw her body on top of the abused animal. The man leered at her and told her to mind her own business but she would not let the brute hurt the whimpering puppy again. She offered him all the money she had in her wallet, about one hundred dollars. He grunted, ripped the bills out of her hand and told her what a big mistake she just made, that the "idiot dog" was nothing but a nuisance. Zeus had been her constant companion since. It was the best one hundred dollar investment she ever made.
Knowing she should try to be polite, she just couldn’t muster the energy to do so. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized the man’s legs stretched out next to hers and kept on going. He must be very tall, some part of her brain thought. Still, she couldn’t gather enough strength to care. She was so cold.
#
Jake studied the beautiful woman huddled on the floor with her protective pooch. She looked so fragile, delicate. His hand itched to reach out and brush the stray tendril of her long, raven hair off her face. It fell across her shoulders like an inky curtain. She was bundled in heavy blankets yet she still shivered. Shock, no doubt.
The officers warned him when he arrived that the dog wouldn’t let any male near the witness. When he first eased down beside the woman, the golden retriever lifted his head and bared his teeth with a feral growl. Then he sniffed at the hand Jake extended and his big pink tongue came out to lick it, nudging it with his muzzle, asking to be petted in doggie lingo.
Jake removed his heavy parka and eased the woman forward, draping it around her shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice, just kept staring at the opposite wall. The dog’s head was in her lap, his eyes open, guarding his mistress.
"What’s your name, buddy?"
"Zeus," the beauty responded in an emotionless monotone, still not looking in his direction.
"Can I get you another cup of coffee, ma’am?"
She shook her head as if in slow motion.
"My name is Jake Kincaid. I know this has been a very rough evening for you and I’m sorry but I have to ask you a few questions." He extracted his notebook and pencil.
She nodded, resigned to the task.
"Ms. Anastasia, you were the first person to find Ms. Jefferson, correct?"
The woman’s face contorted into one of pain and sadness. She closed her eyes and tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Y-yes," her voice broke as she spoke. Jake waited patiently for her to continue. "I forgot some notes I needed for an assignment tomorrow. I came back to get them."
Her voice had dropped so low, Jake had to lean closer to hear her. Mistake. The scent of fresh, clean hair accented with a subtle fragrance of flowers assaulted his senses. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent envelop him.
"I went to unlock the main door," she continued, "but it was already open."
Jake shook his head to banish his wayward thoughts and cleared his throat. He needed to focus. "Is that unusual?" He looked up at her.
She nodded. "Carlos always makes sure to lock everything when he leaves at night. School policy."
"Carlos? He would be…."
"The janitor." Her eyes strayed to the notebook where he scribbled the name and circled it.
"What happened once you entered the building?"
"I thought I heard something. When I couldn’t find anything, I decided I must have imagined the sound."
Jake kept jotting notes. "Were there any ligh
ts on anywhere?"
"No, just the ones above the exits."
"What happened next?"
"I started to go to my office when I heard a sound coming from around the corner. I went to investigate and saw a square of light under the supply room door." She nodded to the room swarming with cops and emergency personnel. "I thought I heard humming. I figured that was why the front door was unlocked, Carlos hadn’t left. I called his name and knocked. The humming stopped and the light snapped off. I tried the handle but it was locked."
"Do you know how many people have a key to the room?"
"I know of three. Dean Glasgo and Carlos each have one, and the professors share a key. The dean’s secretary usually keeps that copy."
"Is that the one you used to unlock the door?"
She shook her head. "I found a set of keys Carlos must have dropped in the office of another professor. I meant to give them back to him earlier but got busy and forgot. I went back to my office to retrieve them and noticed my door open. I know for a fact that I bolted it when I left tonight because I dropped the keys twice," she emphasized, "trying to lock it. Nothing looked out of place, so I went to my desk, grabbed the ring and headed back." She paused, inhaling a deep breath. Jake didn’t rush her while she gathered her strength.
Her voice was shaky when she began again and her eyes held an anguished, far-away look, as if she were painfully reliving the event. Tears glistened on her cheeks like twinkling diamonds. "The door drifted open as I approached. The first thing I noticed was an awful smell." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "I-it almost made me ill."
Violets Are Blue Page 4
