Fallen Angel: An absolutely addictive crime thriller with a nail-biting twist (Detectives Kane and Alton Book 13)

by D. K. Hood

  “I did.” Kane kicked the toes of his snow-caked boots against a tree stump. “The report we had was when Agnes delivered room service to the chalet, she spotted a shoe in the pond. By the time the manager contacted us, it was frozen over. I broke it using a branch.”

  Wolfe nodded. “Any sign of a struggle in the room?”

  “Nothing.” Jenna waved a hand toward the door. “Breakfast is delivered through a hatch, into a sealed compartment accessed only by the guest. It wasn’t touched. The bed hasn’t been slept in. We found nothing unusual inside at all.” She walked toward the pond. “She was last seen making notes in the foyer by the fire. It’s a meeting place, everyone congregates there, but she was the last person seen leaving on the CCTV footage. We haven’t found her purse and it must be substantial to carry a notebook.” She waved behind her. “We’ve been searching the surrounding area looking for any signs of disturbance.”

  “I tried to get Duke to track her, but he couldn’t pick up a scent. We found nothing.” Kane shrugged. “If someone else was here last night, whoever cleared the snow this morning has obliterated any evidence.” He led the way to a cleared patch of ice. “We did find blood spatter, sealed in the ice.”

  Wolfe followed and bent and examined the evidence. “We’ll need to clear the snow from this entire area and expose the ice.” He pointed to a metal box set beside the pathway with a padlock hanging from the door. “That looks like a maintenance shed. Take a look inside. It should have something we can use.”

  “It’s padlocked.” Emily looked at him. “We’d need bolt cutters to get in there without a key. Do you want me to go and get the manager?”

  As Wolfe turned around, he heard the metal door creak open. He smiled to himself. There wasn’t a door Kane couldn’t open. “Anything in there?”

  “Yeah.” Kane pulled out a snow pusher and went to work.

  Wolfe moved closer to the pond and bent to look at the body. The water had already iced over but it broke easily enough. He peered at the legs and turned to Webber. “I’ll glove up and pull her out by the feet. Be ready to support her head when it leaves the water. The snow will protect the body, but I don’t want any post-mortem injuries.”

  “Gotcha.” Webber snapped on gloves. “It’s going to be damn cold handling her.” He moved into position.

  Rolling up his sleeves, Wolfe dipped his hands into the bitterly cold water, gripped the body by the ankles, and tugged. Amazingly, she slid from the icy depths in one move and with Webber’s help he settled her on the snow. The fully clothed body was frozen solid. The face stark white, lips blue, and hair sticking out like a bundle of wet twigs. The hands had been pushed into the pockets of her coat in an almost casual pose. He heard Jenna’s sharp intake of breath beside him and glanced at her startled expression. “Now you don’t see that every day.”

  “Let’s hope we never see anything like that again.” Jenna shook her head. “So much for falling into the pool and drowning.”

  Wolfe dried his arms on a wad of cotton Emily had handed him and pulled down his sleeves. “Ah well, we’ll see what else happened to her when she thaws out.”

  He never made a snap judgement on cause of death, but it was obvious they were looking at a homicide. The strap of the missing purse was drawn so tight around the victim’s neck that the skin had bulged on each side and, in a bloody mess of destruction, a gold pen protruded from one eye.

  Five

  As Wolfe did a preliminary examination of the body, Jenna kneeled on an aluminum blanket beside Kane and examined the ice layer under the snow using her Maglite. The wind howled around them, chilling her to the bone. The cold seemed to slice through her jeans and right through her thermals. As they shuffled slowly from the pathway to the pond, she noticed something glinting in the ice. “By your left hand. I see something shining. What’s that?”

  “It’s an earring.” Kane pulled out his phone and took a few images. “Nothing around it at all. No footprints, scuff marks, zip.” He waved to get Wolfe’s attention. “Is the victim wearing earrings?”

  “Nope.” Wolfe zipped up the body bag. “Pull it out and bag it. Maybe it belongs to her attacker.” He lifted one end of the bag and with Webber slid it onto the gurney. “You can head back to the van, Colt. I’ll be right along.” He turned back to Kane. “At least we have some evidence to go on for a change. The blood spatter is a bonus and I was able to collect a good sample.”

  Jenna looked up at him. Her teeth chattering. “We’re done here and I need to get back to the hotel.”

  “You’ll have a ton of work ahead of you.” Wolfe removed his gloves and balled them up. “I don’t have to rush to get the body back to the morgue. It will take days to thaw. We can assist with the investigation for an hour or so.” He held out his hand to Jenna and pulled her to her feet. “I figure the manager is going to be uncooperative. He started complaining the moment I arrived.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “Did he now?” She brushed snow from her jeans and straightened. “I guess this book convention is a big deal for the resort. This would be the last thing they’d want to happen.”

  “Maybe not.” Kane bagged the earring, wrote on it, and tossed it to Wolfe before removing his surgical gloves. “What would be better at a crime-book convention than a murder?”

  Speechless, Jenna pulled on her gloves and tried to stamp warmth back into her feet as she gaped at him. “Oh, come on, Dave, that’s crazy talk. Do you think someone would actually commit murder as a publicity stunt?”

  “It depends how desperate they are to sell books, I guess.” Kane folded the aluminum blanket. “Considering what we’ve discovered so far, what conclusions have you come up with?”

  Turning back to the path. Jenna ran the evidence through her mind. “Well, I’m sure, Dakota Storm was someone admired by those she brokered deals for, but I guess that she upset the majority of authors she declined.”

  “All true, but it would be the same for many agents.” Kane shrugged. “I’m guessing as most agents represent less than one percent of the authors who pitch to them, many would feel some degree of animosity toward the person who rejected them. It’s human nature.”

  Staring into space, Jenna considered the case. “Enough to murder someone?”

  “We’ve seen psychopaths triggered by a lot less than being rejected by an agent.” Kane wiped his sunglasses and pushed them back on. “I could think of a ton of reasons to kill someone, jealousy being one. Authors seeing others getting agents and making money would be a bitter pill to take, especially if a writer believes their stories are superior. If it’s a psychopath, that alone would be something to consider because it slips right into their behavior pattern. They believe they’re better than everyone else and going down in history as the Book Convention Killer would be the type of notoriety they’d crave.”

  As usual, Kane was already building a profile. “I agree, and we can rule out it being sexually motivated as her clothes seem to be intact. It will be interesting to watch the autopsy. I couldn’t see any defense wounds, but then someone tampered with the body after killing her. No one being strangled would keep their hands in their pockets.”

  “I’d naturally consider looking for a male suspect first, but I couldn’t help noticing the majority of people in the lobby were women, many over sixty.” Kane pulled his woolen cap more snugly over his ears. “So, we could be looking at a female killer. She’d need to be of only average fitness to push the body into the pond. So I figure we can rule out anyone over seventy.” He turned to her. “Everything I see here is personal. The strangulation was committed in a frontal assault, face to face is just about as personal as it gets and the pen in the eye is symbolism. Someone who works in the publishing business committed this murder. Not a reader but one of the three main players: author, agent, or publisher.”

  “Reviewers can be caustic as well.” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “Although I can’t imagine how that involves agents.”

  Jenna blew out a pu
ff of steam. “So, it could be anyone and we have two hundred people at the convention.”

  “And a bus load from town arriving at eleven.” Wolfe fell into step beside them.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Emily peered over her scarf at Jenna. “Julie’s been talking about the convention for ages. She has a ticket for the book signing and will be riding on the bus organized by the library with a bunch of her friends.”

  Jenna rubbed her temples. “More people? How are we going to keep track of everyone?”

  “We know no one checked out last night or this morning, and if we discover no vehicles left the parking lot, we’ll have to assume the killer is on site.” Kane pushed his hands deep inside his coat pockets. “Remember we’re dealing with a group of people who either write, read, or publish crime novels. Unless it’s one of the staff, which is highly unlikely, whoever did this would be aware of police procedure, forensics, and the like.”

  “And hiding in plain sight.” Emily shivered. “They could be watching us right now.”

  “Yeah, and Julie will be in the thick of it. You know your sister, she can’t keep out of trouble.” Wolfe frowned. “Maybe I should take her home with me.”

  “She won’t appreciate you ordering her home in front of her friends.” Emily glared at him. “Honestly, Dad, did you hear what Dave said before? He thinks it was personal. Julie doesn’t know any of the authors, agents, or publishers. She’s a reader. There’s no reason to believe she’d be targeted.”

  “In fact, she’d be the best person to pick up scuttlebutt.” Kane flicked a glance at Wolfe. “The entire population of the ski lodge is a suspect, and right now we’ll need all the help we can get.”

  “Well then I’ll need to arrange things so we can assist you.” Wolfe peered at Kane over his sunglasses. “I had planned to remain here for a time, but I’ll stay with Em to assist you. Colt is quite capable of taking the body to the morgue and setting it up to thaw without cross-contamination. We’ve done it enough times.” He heaved out a long cloud of steam. “You have a captive audience in there and, with all but two of them booked to stay for two weeks, you shouldn’t have a problem keeping them locked down. Like you said, all are interested in crime, most of them enjoy solving mysteries in books, and they may be more help than you believe.”

  The list of procedures Jenna needed to complete for a homicide slid into her mind. “The resort will have a register of the guests. If Brightway refuses to give it to us, I’ll send Rio to ask the judge for a warrant. We’ll need to lock it down completely with no one leaving the mountain, except for the people arriving on the bus for the day trip. I figure we allow the convention to go ahead and get the people back on the bus and away from the area this afternoon. They’ll be one group we can rule out as possible suspects.” She looked at Kane. “It’s too cold to leave someone here to guard the scene and I doubt we’ll need to search it again but in case we do, we’ll need to block this pathway. It only leads to chalet number forty-eight, and once we tell Mr. Brightway it’s off limits, no one will have a reason to come this way.”

  “Okay. Give me a second.” Kane turned around and headed back to the chalet with Duke tearing after him, his long ears flying in the wind.

  Jenna stamped her feet and rubbed her arms against the bitter cold and waited for him to return. A few minutes later he came back dragging a large red and white sign with the words DANGER, FALLING ROCKS and set it across the pathway. She smiled at him. “Oh, that will work.”

  “I noticed it in the maintenance shed.” Kane wrapped the wire attached to the sign around two pine trees. “No one will risk wandering up there now.”

  Jenna met his gaze. “Unless the killer returns to the scene.”

  “With us at the ski lodge, I doubt they’d risk it.” Kane led the way down the path. “We’ll need some help to interview everyone. You’ll have to call Rio in to stay overnight, someone needs to be on scene. We can’t expect Rowley to leave Sandy when she’s so close to her due date.”

  “They’re staying in town with her folks, so it shouldn’t be an issue working here during the day. It’s what, half an hour to the hospital if anything happens.” Jenna followed Wolfe and Emily along the pathway. “We really need to stay here too but it’s impossible. We’ll need to tend the horses and Pumpkin.”

  “That’s not a problem.” Kane turned to look at her walking backward. “We could drop the horses at the stables in town and ask Maggie if she’d care for Pumpkin for a couple of days. She loves her and the horses never seem to mind being away for a few days. With all the people we have to interview, being on scene would make life easier.” He bent to pat Duke. “Duke can stay here with us. The resort never minds him being here.”

  Snowflakes brushed Jenna’s cheeks like butterfly wings and she brushed them away. “That would make sense.” She glanced at her watch. “But we don’t have the time to arrange everything and go home to collect the horses. We just can’t leave. Someone might try and slip away.”

  “I’ll go alone. You have Wolfe and Emily to get the investigation rolling. If we don’t need a court order to see the register, then Rio will be here in no time. It will take me two hours max.”

  Jenna considered his idea and nodded. “Okay, but the moment people hear about the murder they’ll be leaving in droves. I guess locking them in the building is out of the question?”

  “We can’t lock the resort doors as people need to move back and forth to their chalets.” Kane looked at her. “But we can lock it down. There are two roads in and out of the resort, and with a blizzard forecast, no one will try and escape on foot. Many came here on buses, in rental cars, or their own vehicles. Once the bus has left, we’ll ask the guests to remain on site and suspend the cab and bus services until further notice. We’ll say there’s been an avalanche or something and the road is blocked. They’ll comply, and most of them are booked here for two weeks anyway, according to the manager.”

  Jenna thought for a beat. “What about the staff?”

  “Everyone who works here lives in the staff quarters on site. Even married couples. Nice work if you can get it.”

  Jenna squeezed his arm and then moved away under Emily’s eagle stare. Keeping their relationship private was getting harder, especially when close friends were involved. “Okay, make the arrangements for the animals, and I’ll get the rooms organized and call the transport companies.” She pulled out her phone, attached the satellite sleeve, and glanced down at her wet jeans. “Can you pack me a bag? I’ll need a few changes of clothes and more pairs of boots. You’ll need to tell Rio to grab some clothes while he’s in town too. We’ll need him here.”

  “Sure.” Kane leaned into her and rested one arm over her shoulder. “Although I love the tune your teeth are playing, I wouldn’t want you to get frostbite.”

  “Well, aren’t you two a picture of domestic bliss?” Emily looked over one shoulder at them and narrowed her gaze. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Jenna waved her away with a smile. “When there is, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Six

  Alone in a sea of faces, I’m one of many but I’m special. I blend in so well. You see, I’ve always been above the crowd in everything I do. I’m perfect. I know how to act, to use my charm, and make people believe the image I portray. It’s like acting a part and I’m so used to doing it now, it comes naturally. People call me friend, but I have none. I use people for my own endgame and they’re so deliciously vulnerable to an ego stroke that I could ask them to slit their own throats and they’d do so.

  It’s amusing when people believe they have power over me, but it’s the opposite. Why can’t they understand I always win in the end? You see, it only takes a few seconds to silence them forever. I’m smiling now and attracting the attention of people around me. Their curiosity draws them to me like a magnet and I smile back as if I’m their friend. I’m not. Each of them is a potential clog in the drainpipe of my life, but I acknowledge them becaus
e that’s what people are expected to do. It’s all part of the charade, the deception, because I know inside they’re just as empty as me.

  It’s just as well no one can read my thoughts. Can you imagine if they could? Would they run screaming or nod and say, “I’m just like you”? Most people are like me because I’m not responsible for the six hundred thousand people who go missing each year in the US. Trust me, there are many of us out there watching and waiting for the opportunity to indulge our passion.

  The audience falls silent as another author climbs onto the stage to read the first chapter in a thrilling crime. I watch the audience’s eager faces as the author describes a bloody murder. How many here live for that rush? I look at my hands and see warm, sticky blood running over my flesh. I inhale, craving the addictive metallic smell of the crimson delight. I’m trembling and it’s not because of the cold. It’s becoming more difficult to control the craving when I sit among them—but I must.

  Learning to be compliant is crucial to success—no tears came when my mom beat that simple truth into me. Don’t tell or they’ll lock you away, being her mantra. I’d stand in the choir every Sunday dressed in my white smock and sing to the heavens. Each day, I’d pray for someone to take me away from the pain and suffering. Nobody came and then I heard the priest say, “God helps those who help themselves.” I waited, allowing my strength to grow and my mind to accept the words given to me in answer to my prayers. But it was against all I’d been taught: thou shall not kill. But at the time, I was far too young to determine it was Lucifer tugging at my ear. At first I believed I’d been chosen to stop them from hurting other children—and they would hurt them. I soon became a fallen angel, never to return to the holy sanctum. I committed the unforgivable sin and killed my mom. I can still see her startled expression as the life seeped from her. Although, knowing her last image was of me standing over her with a knife has never bothered me. At last, I was free. Others followed and I found I enjoyed it—craved it. It was my chosen path. My abusers are all dead now but the hunger remains and I’m forced to choose others. No one can stop me. You see, I know how to cover my tracks and slip through life unnoticed. For I’m no one of interest, just one in the crowd. I’m the person you meet in one second and forget the next.