In the Flesh

by Rita Herron

  “No, he just said he needed to talk to you, today if possible.”

  “I’ll give him a call right now.”

  She hung up, then phoned the police precinct. Seconds later, they patched her through to his cell phone. “This is Dr. Madden. How can I help you, Captain Black?”

  “We found a murdered girl this morning, same MO as the two other strangled victims.”

  “You think it’s a serial killer?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes. And you come highly recommended.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Can you meet me at the crime scene?”

  “Sure. Let me have the address.” He gave it to her, and she ducked in and said goodbye to her mother. “I’ll try to stop back this week, Mom. I love you.” She squeezed her hands and hoped for a response, but her mother closed her eyes as if exhausted and drifted to sleep. Jenny left, her heart in her throat.

  She had attended a few crime scenes for consultant work, but it was not her favorite part of the job. Shadows from the live oaks flickered along the road as she drove to the wooded area and parked along the side of the road by the police vehicles. She took one look at her clothes and wished she’d gone home to change. The loose skirt and sandals weren’t exactly conducive to hiking. Yet she hadn’t wanted to make the police wait, not when the captain seemed eager for her assistance, when he was obviously frustrated over losing another girl.

  Had the captain called her because he wanted her help in putting together a profile, or did he have a suspect?

  And why her specifically? Did he have reason to believe that one of her patients might be the killer?

  RAUL SAW the baby-blue Beetle convertible swing in beside the squad car and grimaced from his post at the edge of the woods. Had to be Jenny Madden—Dr. Jenny Madden.

  He’d half expected her to be driving a Porsche or Beamer, but the tiny convertible suited his image of her, as well. A girly-girl car.

  She was probably rich, prissy, earned ten times his yearly salary and thought she knew it all.

  He hoped to hell she didn’t puke when she saw the body. Already the flies and bugs had feasted, and the stench had gotten bad. At least CSI was almost finished, so if she lost it, she wouldn’t contaminate evidence.

  Before she cut the engine, she dragged a brush through her hair. Concerned about her looks at a crime scene—not a good sign.

  He tried not to notice the long silky-looking blond strands but couldn’t help himself as she pulled them back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Then she climbed out and his gut clenched at the sight of that body. High full breasts tapered to a slender waist. She wore a dark-blue tank top that clung to her figure in the cloying summer heat, and a loose white skirt that swirled around her slender ankles, leading his eyes down to her sandaled feet and toenails painted a hot red.

  Damn. He liked red toenails.

  He dragged his gaze back up to her face, searching for the flaw. Unfortunately, he didn’t see one on the surface. Soft features shaped a dainty nose and high sculpted cheekbones, and her lips were pouty and pink, natural, no lipstick.

  She would have to be a knockout. Long blond hair and longer legs that could grip a man and make him crazy. Yep, the devil always came disguised in pretty packages.

  Not that he would let her model looks distract him from the job or make him forget what she was. A shrink.

  An interference in the case.

  He didn’t know why Black had insisted on calling her out here. A short but sweet meeting at the precinct would have sufficed. And worse, the captain had ordered him to babysit her to the scene.

  She started toward the woods, and he cleared his throat. “You can’t go that way. This is a crime scene.”

  She startled and almost lost her footing, and he cursed the fact that she didn’t have enough sense to dress appropriately for the woods.

  “I didn’t see you skulking in the shadows,” she said, jutting up her chin.

  He almost laughed. He’d expected a sweet voice to go with that body. Instead, it was husky, and her glare so sharp that it cut to the bone. “Are you Dr. Madden?”

  She nodded. “Captain Black requested I come.”

  He gave a clipped nod, biting back the fact that he disagreed with his superior. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled from the investigation because of his personal dislike for her. “I’m supposed to escort you to the crime scene.”

  She wet her lip, a sign of nervousness, but he refused to cut her any slack. If she couldn’t do the job, then Black should see it now, so they’d be done with this crap and he wouldn’t have to deal with her.

  “And you are?” she asked.

  “Detective Raul Cortez.” He gestured toward the path to his left. “Follow me. The body is this way.”

  He didn’t wait on her response, but strode into the woods. He heard the brush parting, twigs snapping beneath her feet, her breathing labored as she hurried behind him, but he didn’t slow down until he heard her yelp.

  He inhaled sharply and pivoted, frowning as she gripped a tree trunk and massaged her foot.

  A second of remorse filled him for being curt, but this job was not for sissies. “You should have dressed for work instead of the country club.”

  She fisted her hands by her side. “I was already out when I received the call.”

  “A champagne brunch, no doubt.”

  “Frankly that’s none of your business.” She flicked her hand forward. “Just lead the way. I’ll keep up.”

  The challenge in her tone egged him on, and he stalked the rest of the way, not breaking stride until he reached the crime scene tape. The CSI team had scattered, searching the surrounding area, and Black was waiting beside the body. He wanted Dr. Madden to see the way she’d been posed to get the full effect of this perp’s MO.

  Black frowned at Raul as the doctor trotted behind him. He made no excuse, but turned and gestured in introduction. “Dr. Madden, Captain Black.”

  Black extended his hand. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Madden. My friend Agent Steele and his wife, Claire, recommended you.”

  The woman smiled. “Yes, I worked with Claire before. I can’t believe she’s married now and has two kids.”

  “We’re not interested in chitchating about your friends’ families,” Raul cut in.

  She whirled on him. “Yes, I can see that you wouldn’t, you’re probably not a family man.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “As you can see, we have a dead woman on our hands,” he snapped.

  “Detective,” Black said in a warning tone.

  Jenny threw up a hand. “It’s all right. I’m sorry to hear another girl has been murdered.”

  Black clenched his jaw. “Yeah. We have to find this guy before he strikes again.”

  She slanted her gaze toward the body, and her expression softened. “You’re right. Let’s get to work.”

  Raul grunted, and she gave him a glacier look but refrained from comment as she addressed Black. “Do you want to tell me the details first or want me to assess the situation for myself?”

  “Why don’t you look first, then give us your thoughts,” Black said. “We want your gut reaction, your unbiased, professional opinion.”

  Raul frowned at the word we but knew better than to argue, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead he braced himself to steer the woman to the side if she got sick, or to catch her if she passed out.

  Hell, he halfway hoped she did. Then Black could see she didn’t belong here, and they’d be rid of her.

  Chapter Two

  Jenny tried to tamp down her anger at Detective Raul Cortez. Even though he was easy on the eyes, he was rude, insolent, and the perfect example of why some people called policemen pigs.

  She was accustomed to some adversity, but no one had ever taken such an instant dislike to her before. If she didn’t have a job to do here, her feelings might be hurt.

  Or she might spit in his face and walk away.

  But Jenny ha
d never backed down from a fight or let anyone bully her, and plenty of male patients had tried. She sure as heck didn’t intend to play scaredy-cat now.

  Irritation at the detective morphed into horror and anger at the person who’d killed this girl as she picked her way through the weeds and spotted the body. The detective and Captain Black eased up beside her. Cortez was probably waiting for her to fall apart so he could laugh in her face.

  She refused to give him the pleasure.

  Forcing a calm to her expression that belied the trembling inside her, she knelt by the woman and mentally made notes of the scene. She was young, mid-twenties probably, blond, and she’d been strangled to death with a pair of silk panties just as the paper had reported that the first two victims had. However, they had omitted details. The way her body was posed, the bruises on her torso and neck, the bugs nibbling at her flesh.

  “What is her name?” she asked softly.

  “Judy Benson,” Detective Cortez said. “We found her purse over there behind those oaks. She’s twenty-two, lives in an apartment in town.”

  A commotion sounded behind her, and Captain Black cleared his throat. “It’s the press. I’ll take care of it. Stay here, Cortez.”

  The air stirred with humidity, made hotter by the tension humming between her and Cortez. A fly buzzed around her face, and she swallowed back bile at the acrid smell of the decomposing corpse.

  Determined to hold herself together until she was alone, she honed in on the visual details of the crime scene. His MO, his choice of the underwear as a killing tool, the way he’d left the body exposed, all were signs that would help her get inside the killer’s mind and create a profile.

  The perpetrator had spread the girl’s legs as if to suggest a sexual crime, but he’d folded her hands together as if she was saying a prayer and laid them across her bare breasts. Maybe he was conflicted?

  A prayer or was she supposed to be asking for forgiveness? Maybe she was supposed to be worshipping him? “Was she raped?”

  “We won’t know for sure until the ME gets her on the table. With the other two, there were indications of sexual intercourse, but not clear signs of rape. Sex could have been consensual but something snapped with the guy and he killed her.”

  “Or he may have killed her during sex—some men can only achieve sexual satisfaction through violence,” Jenny said. “Were the other two girls posed like this? Legs spread, hands folded?”

  “Identically.”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “How long was she missing before you found her?”

  “Her roommate said she disappeared Thursday night after happy hour from a bar on River Street.”

  “And the other girls?”

  “The first victim, Dodie Tinsley, a waitress, disappeared after work one night. She was found two days later. The second girl, Penny Ann Wayling, was last seen at the Java Monkey where she was supposed to meet a date. A coed discovered her body the next day while jogging.”

  Jenny angled her head. “Any leads so far?”

  He shook his head, his jaw tight. “We’ve interviewed old boyfriends, roommates, neighbors, friends. And we’re checking their computers for e-mails, chat rooms, to see if the girls might have tried one of the online dating services. But so far we don’t have any viable suspects.”

  “How about the underwear? Did it belong to the victims or did he bring it?”

  “He brought it. We think he took the victims’ as a trophy.”

  “I see. Did he always use black?”

  Raul nodded. “We’re trying to trace where he purchased them.”

  Jenny pushed to her feet, needing to escape. The girl’s sightless eyes screamed for help and were tormenting her. The cops would have pictures of all the crime scenes. She’d review them, compare them, see if she noticed anything else.

  The detective cleared his throat. “Now what can you tell us, Dr. Madden?”

  Again he said the word doctor as if it was a four-letter word.

  “Listen, Detective Cortez,” she said, facing him. “I don’t know if you’re always this rude, or if you’ve just decided to grace me with your bad attitude, but I didn’t ask to be here today. So if you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I can leave now.”

  She started up the path, trembling as she tried to escape the awful smell and the image of that poor girl lying so hopelessly dead. Because no matter what she or he did, they couldn’t bring her back.

  And she didn’t intend to show her grief for the victim to this cold-hearted bastard.

  RAUL WANTED to let her go. But Black was approaching with a scowl on his face, and he knew he’d better shape up.

  “Captain Black requested you come, so he’ll want to hear what you have to say.”

  Her eyes blazed, and she hesitated. “And you, Detective?”

  He couldn’t lie. “You like sexual deviants. I have trouble with that.”

  “Like?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If that’s how your thought processes work, then you like criminals.”

  His eyes glittered with disdain. “I hunt them down and put them behind bars to get justice.”

  “And I treat sexual deviants to alter their negative behavior.”

  “They don’t deserve to be coddled or to be released on some stupid insanity plea.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But they’re human, and if I can help one of them, keep one from committing a crime, from killing an innocent person or themselves, then I’ve saved a life, and that makes my job worthwhile.”

  Captain Black strode toward them, his jaw set in granite. “Dr. Madden, is there a problem here?”

  She turned her gaze toward him, and Raul scowled. Let her run to his boss, whining that he’d insulted her pride.

  “No,” she said instead. “I was just coming to relay my initial assessment.”

  Black shot Raul a dark look. “Good. We need all the help we can get on this case.”

  She nodded, a sheen of perspiration glistening on her face. “All right. Given the way the body has been posed, it suggests a sexual predator.”

  “Even though the girls weren’t obviously raped?” Black asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, perhaps he sees them as sexual beings, but he thinks they’re dirty girls and wants to expose them for what he perceives they are. He also may be conflicted. He likes them, is tempted by them but blames them for his fall from grace so he shames them. Ultimately, he has to kill them so they won’t entice him or any more men.”

  “That makes sense,” Black said. “Go on.”

  “Your killer is probably in his early twenties. He may have suffered a psychotic break meaning his reality is altered. Skewed. He’s attractive, appeals to young girls, or else he wouldn’t be able to approach them and convince them to go with him. He looks trustworthy, like a nice guy.” She exhaled shakily and Raul realized she wasn’t as cool as she’d acted. The girl’s death had disturbed her.

  “Although he appears confident,” she continued, “he’s an underachiever. He might have been abused or neglected when he was young or picked on by other kids. Maybe he’s been overlooked at work, passed up for promotions or works at a job that’s below his intelligence, a menial job he feels is beneath him. He craves power and control.”

  Raul studied her earnest expression, knew she believed the hogwash she was saying. “What good does all this do us? It doesn’t tell us who our killer is.”

  Her gaze was steady, unfaltering. “If you understand how the perpetrator thinks, get into his head and understand his motivation, you can use it to weed out suspects.”

  “I am in his head,” Raul shot back. “He’s a sick sadistic monster who takes young women’s lives. Now I need evidence, clues that will show me where to find him or where he’ll strike next.”

  Jenny sighed. “If you learn more or want to share details with me, let me know. The more information I have about the victims and the crimes, the more I can fine-tune the profile.”

  “Right,�
�� Raul said, although he didn’t hide his contempt.

  Black cleared his throat and sent Raul a sharp look, but she actually offered him a smile. A condescending smile that knifed through him as sharply as her comment about family had.

  “You have my number,” she said, then headed up the path to her car.

  Raul tried not to admire her body or the fact that she’d stood her ground when he’d cut her down.

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that, Cortez,” Black growled.

  He shrugged. “I tell it like I see it.”

  “I asked Dr. Madden here on a consult,” he continued, pissed, “and I don’t expect you to undermine my authority by implying that she’s incompetent.”

  “You know how I feel about shrinks,” he said between clenched teeth. “We don’t need her.”

  “Maybe you do need her,” Black said. “You’re letting your past and your emotions cloud your judgment.”

  “That’s bull.”

  “Is it?” Black arched his dark brows. “You’re too wrapped up in your bitterness, and blaming every shrink in the world for your wife’s death, that it blinds you to the fact that Jenny Madden might be of value to our case.” He paused, but barged on before Raul could argue, “You haven’t dealt with your wife’s death yet, Cortez. You need help.”

  “The only thing I need is to be left alone so I can do my job.”

  Black pinched his fingers together, then parted them a fraction of an inch. “You’re this far from being suspended pending a psychiatric evaluation, Cortez. Either straighten up your attitude yourself or you’re off the case.”

  Anger heated Raul’s blood. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Try me.” Black narrowed his eyes. “Maybe Jenny Madden is just the person you should see. And on a professional basis. I could make that happen.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Then prove you don’t need counseling by working with her.” Black folded his arms. “Show her the respect she deserves. She might teach you a thing or two. She knows the mind of the sexual predator better than anyone around.”