Maybe it just took someone who knew the both of them to see it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
* * *
He was seated next to the medical examiner at dinner, and he had to admit she was a pleasant—if somewhat quiet—companion. She was very articulate, when directly addressed, and she spoke with a faint southern accent that was smooth and charming. He could see what had caught Malachi’s attention. Once you looked past the surface of her sedate clothing she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Educated, cultured, articulate, attractive, and well-mannered. Not to mention the fact that she occupied a career position of relative prestige.
She would make someone a very advantageous wife, in spite of the child he’d learned she was in the process of adopting. Still, if someone were to make the fact of the child’s antecedents known, it could appear quite altruistic. The child could definitely be used to a wise person’s advantage.
Her perfume tickled his senses; for the first time in he didn’t know how long, his body began to tighten with arousal. The feeling was even more developed than those fleeting urges that hit him when he’d occasionally brush against Paige. Of course, Paige was not yet refined enough for his taste. Intriguing.
But Dr. Bellows certainly was. She rather reminded him of Meredith in a lot of ways. And he had to admit he found that fact attractive to a high degree.
Meredith was after all, his ideal. And had been since he was a young man.
Research proved that men tended to marry or be attracted to women who had similar characteristics to their mothers—it would stand to reason that both he and Malachi would find Julia Bellows attractive. Malachi because she resembled his mother in stature and manner, and him because he’d always wished Meredith was his mother. At least until he was old enough to develop sexual desires. The first woman he’d ever been attracted to was Meredith Brockman. His deepest attraction was still to that woman.
Dr. Bellows shifted closer to him as she reached for the dish in front of him. She scooped some onto the child’s plate, and sent a distracted smile in his direction. She had a remarkable smile. One that would look quite perfect on a political mailer.
Interesting.
Perhaps he would take the added time to enjoy playing with the good doctor before he played her move in the game. Then once he made the final move and checked Malachi’s king, he would turn his attention to Paige.
His ultimate goal was to have Paige transformed in to a woman much like the one beside him.
He leaned forward and spoke to doctor, enjoying having her hazel eyes fully focused on him fully for the moment. She smiled when appropriate and he greatly enjoyed the conversation.
This woman was a perfect choice for a man in Malachi’s position. Or his, if he wanted to think about it that way. Unlike Paige, who was currently making cross-eyes at the little girl across the table, then laughing along with the child rather crassly.
Of course, Malachi would find the perfect woman to fall in love with. Perfection was Malachi’s middle name, after all.
***
He followed her home. He hadn’t intended to, but the human failing of curiosity unfortunately got the better of him.
She lived in a nice home in a reasonable neighborhood. It was far from shabby and told him she was financially stable. He parked in front of the home and sat for an hour contemplating what he would do with her. It had definitely been a while since he’d been ruled by those kinds of physical urges. Had she and Malachi already slept together? Was she as sedate in the bedroom as she appeared at the dinner table? Had Malachi beaten him to finding that answer?
He rubbed a hand over his mouth as the thought of having her beneath him had his skin heating. Would she be the type to protest, though she was obviously hotter inside than she looked on the outside?
He greatly enjoyed women of that type, an icy shell hiding a burning core. Was that one of the things that drew Malachi to her?
He tensed when the woman reappeared, dressed now in jeans and heavy coat. The little girl was in similar garb, and clung tightly to her foster mother’s hand.
The child could potentially pose a problem for him. But he had plenty of time to perfect his strategy where Dr. Julia Bellows was concerned.
The first thing would be to set up monitoring of her house. He waited until she and the girl drove away, then exited his vehicle. He knew what he looked like, a businessman wearing nice clothing, well-groomed, and probably successful. White, and someone easily at home in this middle-class to upper-middle-class neighborhood. With the fast approaching twilight, he knew he’d be completely unremarkable to any possible witnesses. A white man in a business suit driving a dark sedan. No one, really.
He popped the trunk and pulled out a tiny box of supplies. Inside were three cameras, the kind often used in those ridiculous nanny cams that were so popular during the late 90s early 2000s. He’d installed many such items in his chess pieces’ homes over the years. It would take little work to install them in Dr. Bellows’ home. Her bedroom, certainly. Possibly her bathroom, pointed directly at her tub.
He was self-actualized enough to understand that he got several types of enjoyment off of voyeuristic pursuits. The knowledge that he had the ability to watch every move a man or woman made while in the privacy of their own home, that he watched the intimate details they kept hidden from the world.
What did Dr. Julia Bellows want to keep hidden?
Fifteen minutes later he was back in his car, driving to his own home in Chesterfield. As he pulled in to the drive he was once again struck with the pride he felt every time he gazed upon his home. He’d done very well for himself. Much better than his mother and step-father had predicted. His home was a three-story, brick exterior modern home. It would be the perfect starter home for an up-and-coming state representative, as soon as he got that appointment.
By election time next year it would be cemented…
To do that, he needed to finish creating his image. Professional accolades were on their way to him—he’d ensured that through the flawless execution of his work. He’d written sixteen papers to date on the effectiveness of his treatments and research. The works had been extremely well received. It was just a matter of time until recognition was given. He also needed to project the image of devoted family man. Despite the fact that he did not personally care for children, he needed to father at least one in order to appear as trustworthy to the family-oriented portion of his future constituents. No, he really did not feel drawn to small children, but they were a necessity.
And then there was his need for a wife. A helpmeet, the archaic term was. Someone who could propel him to the front of the fold, while helping him in any manner he deemed necessary. Someone who could look the part, speak the part, and then know when to listen to her dominant master and step out of the limelight and let him shine.
Until today he’d thought that woman would be Paige. But now he wasn’t so certain.
Perhaps, Julia would be a better fit for the position.
Perhaps, for once, Malachi had made the better decision.
In the meantime, he had some work to do for the new game. A double move on his part, he thought, would be best…
Chapter Thirty-Nine
* * *
Christina Aquilara played on the speakers of the morgue two days after Jules returned to work. Jules needed the music to block out the sounds of autopsy. She’d always found the sounds to be the most intimidating part of her job.
Still, she got over her squeamishness quickly and set about autopsying the first victim that CCU Team Three had found. The victim was approximately thirty-five to forty years old, Caucasian, and thinner than she needed to be at 102 pounds. Her hair was dark brown and shoulder length. Her nails were painted red and neat. The woman’s general appearance spoke to decent health, at this point there were no indicators of medical factors accounting for death.
The bruising on the woman’s wrists and ankles, as well as on her right zigomatic bone—he
r cheek—told a story of a more man-induced death. But Jules would hold off determining cause of death until all the factors were in.
Mia stood across the table from her, making notes as Jules spoke. Mia had transferred to PAVAD with Jules at Jules’ request—and Jules was comfortable with Mia’s style of note-taking. Still, she was as thorough as possible as she documented each bruise and injury the victim—still unidentified—had suffered.
“Where was she found again?” Jules’ asked the third person attending the autopsy.
Paige didn’t seem fazed by the fact that she was standing less than a foot from a woman about to be dissected on a metal table. “Over on Meredith Drive. A very small street. Body dump; none of the neighbors recognized her. A paperboy nearly ran over her.”
“Why did the CCU pull it?” It was unusual for a local body to end up on Jules’ table. She was responsible for two things at PAVAD—monitoring the general health of each team, through file review, and overseeing and performing autopsies of victims directly related to the cases PAVAD was working. She’d only done two—maybe three—autopsies for local agencies.
The main field office for St. Louis handled non-PAVAD cases, and had their own medical examiner.
Paige shrugged. “I’m not really sure. The call came in about ten minutes before I was leaving for lunch, and ole Ed tagged me and Al to rendezvous. Knight requested our involvement, I guess.”
Allan Knight was a SAC—Special Agent in Charge—with the local field office. “Isn’t he the one who…”
“Likes to send every run-of-the-mill case he can over to us?” Paige laughed. “Yes, that’s him. Some say he’s irritated that he wasn’t picked for PAVAD, so that’s part of his poking at Ed. And Mal, I guess, though they’re friends; he’s some kind of psychologist or psychiatrist, too. Still, we’re better than his people, so this girl got lucky.”
As Jules started up the saw to make the Y-incision, lucky wasn’t the word she was thinking of.
Little else was said as Jules made the rest of the incisions necessary to begin the four-hour process of dissecting someone. She pulled out the larynx and esophagus, dictating to Mia as she did so. “It’s larger than expected for a woman this size.”
“Schatzki ring?”
“No. I don’t believe so. There seems to be an obstruction of some sort…” Jules took the enterotomes—special scissors used for cutting through tubes and vessels—and made a small incision above and below the obstruction. “It’s more of an object than a muscle.”
“I’ll get the camera.” Paige had attended enough autopsies with Jules to know what would happen next. She took out Jules’ camera from where it rested on the tray, and began to make additional images. Jules always videotaped autopsies from three angles—the cameras were poised over the exam table—but printed images were used to document actual medical or physical anomalies. At least, in her lab they were.
Jules carefully reached into the tissue with forceps and grasped the top of the obstruction. As Paige moved around her to better document the procedure, Jules pulled the obstruction out.
An object no larger than Jules’ thumb was clasped between the teeth of the forceps. It took her a moment to identify it exactly.
A wooden chess piece stared up at her.
A white pawn.
This woman just became out-of-the-run-of-the-mill-unlucky, Jules thought as Paige continued to snap photographs and Mia described for the recording just what it was they’d found.
“What does it mean, you think?” Paige asked, though Jules could see the same worry on the younger woman’s face that she herself was feeling.
A killer who used chess pieces—they both knew who that most likely was.
But who was this woman? Was she just a pawn like the piece signified? And why had she just happened to end up on Jules’ table? Had it just been coincidence?
“Paige, I want you to call Dr. Brockman. He and Hellbrook will need to see this.”
***
Malachi and Hell had just finished up in the cafeteria, having a late lunch, when the M.E. paged them. Mal had a difficult time suppressing the jolt that just seeing Dr. Julia Bellows across the screen of his phone gave him.
Hellbrook’s phone also beeped. Hell looked at the screen. “We’re wanted in the autopsy.”
“Both of us. Interesting.” That usually didn’t happen. They often worked together, with one team providing back up support for the other, but rarely did they start on cases together. Anticipation had him tensing. What was going on? And what did Julia want?
They met Sebastian Lorcan, the leader of CCU Team Three, walking down the twisted and narrow hallway that led to the morgue’s annex. The morgue had been added six months after the initial start of the PAVAD directorate, and was a single story building. Julia ruled supreme down there, and everyone knew that.
She had a staff of six or eight people working for her, including her faithful assistant Mia Ripley, and Mal knew she ran a very tight ship down there. And to be honest, autopsy intimidated the crud out of him. How could she stand to spend so much time down there?
“You all know what this is about?” Lorcan asked. “I just received a text from Paige saying we’ve pulled a case I don’t know about.”
“You know more than we do.” Malachi didn’t like surprises. And his team had wrapped up most of their pressing cases. There were always a few cases that took weeks—sometimes months or longer—to solve. And those colder cases were what he had his people working on now.
He was the first one to reach the morgue door and he told himself that it wasn’t because of any eagerness to see a certain pathologist. But he knew he was lying.
He’d missed her. Since her second visit to church, he hadn’t seen her at all. Today was her first day back, and he had hoped to see her earlier. Even if for just a moment. But seeing her with a dead body between them didn’t appeal.
But he really had miss her. Missed jabbing at her, missed seeing her hazel eyes sparking fury in his direction. Hell, he even missed the stapler she’d thrown at his head. Why? How had she become so important to him so quickly?
And what exactly did that mean?
Was it just lust, inspired by the time they’d spent together in that basement and South Dakota? If so, he could deal with that. Lust was healthy. Lust was normal. Obsessing over a waspish female who made her living cutting open dead bodies was probably not normal.
Perhaps he should think about that.
Later. Right now he and the other two men were busy scrubbing up before entering the autopsy room.
Julia insisted that anyone entering or exiting her pathology lab do a thorough scrub down and wear protective clothing upon entering.
Paige waited inside, along with Julia and her assistant. “High, ho, gang’s all here.”
Hellbrook didn’t waste time. “What’s going on?”
“We wanted you to see this,” Julia said. She looked straight into Malachi’s eyes as she spoke. She held out a bagged piece of evidence and Mal took it. A small chess piece—a pawn—was encased in the clear plastic bag. “This was found in her throat. Upside down. Most likely forced there.”
“Let me get this straight,” Lorcan said. “Some bastard shoved this in the woman’s mouth. Did it kill her?”
“Possibly. I found vomit surrounding the piece, so she aspirated with it already lodged in place.”
“So she could have choked on this.” Did it mean what he thought it meant? Was it the same UNSUB?
“Yes. Possibly, it was used as the method of death. I’ll know more in a few hours. But as of this point, I have to assume she didn’t voluntarily eat the piece. So…I figured you boys would want to squabble over whose team gets her.”
“She’s mine. But I’ll need a secondary team.” He’d find him. He had all the PAVAD resources behind him now. “How did she get here? And where was she found? What all do you have on her?”
Paige, bless her, spoke up. “Knight sent her over. I have him on his way
here, now. Orders directly from Agent Len, so he should be quick about it.”
“Good.” Malachi looked down at the woman on the table, for the first time noticing the long brown hair and the narrow build. She probably wasn’t much bigger than Julia. If at all. Had she noticed the similarities? “If this is the same UNSUB, this is his thirty-third victim. In at least five years.”
“So many,” Julia murmured. “And you’ve found nothing on him.”
“He’s that good.” Malachi looked straight at her, until she met his eyes. “I just have to find the right piece of the puzzle and I’ll have him.”
“Hopefully you will find that piece sooner rather than later.”
“So is this some kind of game this guy is pulling you into?” Lorcan asked. “Why you? What did you do to him to pull his attention your way?”
“If I knew that I’d have stopped him by now. The only thing I can assume is that somehow during a previous case I came into contact with him. He tagged me for this whatever you want to call it.”
“There’s thirty-two pieces in a chess set,” Julia said. “And you said this would be his thirty-third victim. What are the other pieces you’ve received from him?”
“The full thirty-two piece set. A frosted glass set. Approximately twenty years old. “
“So either this guy is just killing with no rhyme or reason, or…” Hellbrook looked at Malachi.
Malachi finished the words for him. “He’s started his game all over again.”
Chapter Forty
* * *
Malachi stared at the collection of chess pieces lining his desk, looking for any hint—anything at all to explain why he had been chosen to be the recipient of such a gruesome game. Had he angered someone? Put someone away that he shouldn’t have? Or was it something else?
Allan Knight was meeting him in ten minutes to discuss why he’d forwarded the body of the latest victim—the pawn—to PAVAD. Perhaps the other agent had seen something or had more information.
HUNTING (PAVAD) Page 14
