Runs Deep

by R. D. Brady

  Mel’s hands were splayed out. Coffee cups and a sugar holder were smashed to the floor in front of him. Steve didn’t move Mel, but he was pretty sure if he did there’d be more shards.

  On the counter beside him, the sugar container was tipped over, along with the pepper. The salt shaker had rolled farther down the counter. So, Mel had been taken by surprise. He’d grabbed the counter, knocking stuff off as he fell.

  Steve crouched down as close to the body as he could get, careful to stay clear of the pooled blood. There were no bruises on Mel’s hands, no cuts on his forearms. The poor man hadn’t seen the attack coming, hadn’t had a chance to defend himself.

  Sick bastard. Anger and nausea warred inside Steve. Whoever had done this had come up from behind, stabbed Mel in the back, and then kept stabbing. There were at least two dozen stab wounds.

  Steve paused. Wait a minute. He looked around. Blood was splashed along the cups and saucers stored under the counter and along the back shelves. Whoever did this had been in a mad frenzy. They would have been covered in blood.

  Steve looked back to the door and then toward the kitchen. So why was there no blood trail? Did the killer just stop and clean up after himself? People didn’t do that.

  Steve felt cold. But this guy did.

  Steve had seen a guy in prison like that. He’d walked calmly up to this neo-Nazi that had been saying some not so nice things about him, and with a smile on his face, he’d plunged a shank into the guy’s neck, again and again. He’d been dripping in the guy’s blood.

  Then he’d stopped, wiped his knife off on the guy’s shirt, and strolled away with that same calm smile on his face. He’d even whistled as the blood dripped off him, leaving a trail in his wake. Steve had recognized the tune—the theme song from Gilligan’s Island.

  The guy had been put in the hole for thirty days. And when he got out, everyone gave him a wide berth. No one wanted to mess with that kind of crazy.

  Was that the kind of guy he was dealing with here?

  Another thought hit Steve like a punch to the stomach. Mel was always cautious. He wouldn’t turn his back to a stranger, and he would never let a stranger in after closing. Which meant that whomever Mel had let in, it was someone he knew. Someone he trusted.

  And that person had literally stabbed him in the back.

  Steve blew out a breath. He needed to call someone. People would learn he was on schedule to come in this morning. If he didn’t call, it would look suspicious. And if he did, he would have to be the one that discovered the body.

  The thought brought him up short. Was that part of the plan? To make sure that he was the one who found Mel? After all, it’s not like Keith was going to look any further once Steve Kane was involved.

  Steve debated in his mind for a minute, looking for any other possible course of action. “Shit.”

  He walked back to the phone and picked it up. At least there was one small way he could make it easier. He dialed.

  “Declan? It’s Steve. I need you to come to Mel’s Diner. Mel’s been killed.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Declan drove down the road, struggling to keep from pressing the gas pedal to the floor. Tension made his shoulders and hands ache as he held the steering wheel in a death grip. The windshield wipers beat furiously at the driving rain, but to little effect.

  Steve hadn’t gone into detail, but his words had chilled Declan to the bone: Mel’s been killed.

  Declan had thrown on his clothes and sprinted out of the house, scrawling a hasty note to his sister and father. He’d turned off the scanner last night, needing to get a good night’s sleep. When he checked his cell, he saw he’d missed a bunch of messages from Russ. Not much detail, but someone had tried to grab Micah Donaldson last night. And apparently Steve and Julie Granger had saved him.

  And now Mel was dead. What the hell was going on? Declan knew how much Steve cared about Mel. He couldn’t have done something to him, could he?

  Automatically, he felt guilty at the thought.

  Declan pushed the pedal a little more and the back of his car hydroplaned. He slowed down. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. He needed to get to the diner before Keith. He needed to take control of the scene.

  Turning onto Main Street, he saw the diner’s sign up ahead, although it was still off and the diner itself was dark. He let out a breath at the empty parking lot. Well, at least he had that working for him.

  He pulled to a stop in front of the diner. He reached over and grabbed his plastic booties and gloves from the glove box. Throwing open the door, he dashed for the door of the diner. Steve held it open for him.

  Although it was only a short distance from his car to the door of the diner, Declan was still soaked when he stepped inside. He stood dripping on the welcome mat and looked at Steve. “Steve? Are you all right?”

  Steve gave him a jerky nod. “Mel’s this way.”

  Declan put out a hand to stop him. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

  Steve nodded, looking around, clenching his hands. He didn’t have any blood on him or any other signs of violence. Declan felt a small measure of relief at that.

  Declan shrugged off his coat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door. He’d prefer to do all this outside, but the weather was making that impossible. He flipped on the switch by the door, bathing the room in light. “Did you touch the body?”

  Steve blinked a few times and shook his head. “No. I found him and then used the phone under the counter to call you.”

  Declan looked at the footprints leading around the counter. He couldn’t see any sign of Mel. He nodded to the footprints. “Those yours?”

  Steve nodded. “I didn’t realize—I took my shoes off after. I didn’t want to mess up anything left behind.”

  Declan noted Steve’s stocking feet and that Steve seemed to be slipping into shock. He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I want you to go sit in my car. Put the heat on.”

  Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to leave Mel.”

  Declan looked him in the eyes. “I’ll take care of Mel for now. Okay? Go ahead. You can leave him with me.”

  Steve’s chin trembled. “I didn’t know… I just walked in… I didn’t know.”

  Declan pressed his keys into Steve’s hands. “Go wait in my car.”

  Steve nodded, all expression slipping from his face. He retrieved his shoes, put them on, and walked out. Declan watched him go with a heavy heart. The kid doesn’t need this now.

  Letting out a breath, Declan turned around, put his booties on over his shoes, and pulled on his gloves with a snap. Then he headed toward the counter, walking slowly, checking the ground to make sure he didn’t step on any blood splatter or other evidence. He saw his first spot of blood at the edge of the counter, only two inches from it. He’d let the forensics team sort that out.

  He groaned when he realized he probably was the forensics team. What Keith knew about crime scene investigation could fit in a thimble with room to spare.

  Then he moved around the side of the counter and saw Mel. The man’s back had been ripped to shreds by the stab wounds. The murder weapon was still there, plunged into the center of Mel’s back up to the hilt. Declan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the grief and shock roll over him. I’m sorry, Mel. You didn’t deserve this.

  Taking a breath, he shoved his feelings aside. They’d only get in the way.

  He focused on the wounds on Mel’s back. They looked deep. Someone with some muscle, Declan thought. He pictured Steve’s arms, and then blocked out the image.

  He noted the shards and the pool of blood. From where he was standing, it didn’t look like Mel had put up much of a fight. Just like Elise. And Simone. In all three cases, the victims had known their attacker. Which meant the murderer—if these crimes were all committed by the same person—most likely lived in Millners Kill. The thought did not sit well with him.

  While his mind whirled through possible suspects and tried to stay away from placing Steve o
n that list, he pulled out his phone and snapped pictures of the counter, Mel’s back and face, and the knife. He had a better camera in the trunk of his car, but he didn’t know how much time he’d have before the scene was pulled away from him, so he wanted to capture as much as he could as quickly as he could.

  He crouched down, careful not to disturb anything. “You didn’t see it coming, did you?” he whispered.

  He noted the dried blood. He took more shots of the wounds and Mel’s hands. This wasn’t recent. He’d need to check to confirm, but he was guessing at least six or seven hours. Mel wasn’t in full rigor yet, which meant he’d been dead less than eight hours.

  If Steve had just gotten here, he couldn’t have done it—unless he was here earlier, too. Declan let out a breath. But I never really believed he could have done it, he told himself. Although he wasn’t sure if he was confirming something in his mind or just reassuring himself.

  Standing, he walked carefully around Mel and into the kitchen. The blood splatter ended at the door. The kitchen itself looked undisturbed. Declan walked through the kitchen and to the back door. He pushed on it. Locked. And it could only be locked from the inside.

  Killer must have gone out the front. He’d have to ask Steve if the door had been locked or unlocked.

  Sirens sounded from the front of the diner, startling him. Son of a bitch. Declan made his way back to the front, careful once again not to disturb the scene. He could already hear yelling from the parking lot.

  He’d just reached the counter when the front door blew in. A deputy held the door open while Keith made his way in. Leaves and rain blew through and into the diner. Keith stomped in, soaking the floor and tromping across it in his big boots.

  “Stop!” Declan yelled.

  Keith hesitated.

  Declan stared at him. “Now back up, stepping in your same footprints. You are contaminating the scene.” He glared at the deputy. “And close the damn door.”

  The deputy stepped inside and let the door fall shut behind him. But before it closed, Declan saw Steve being dragged from his car and manhandled to the ground. Steve didn’t appear to be resisting.

  Keith sneered but stayed where he was. “This is my crime scene, not the state’s. And seeing as we already caught the perpetrator red-handed outside, I don’t think it’ll be much of a trial.”

  Declan ground his teeth. “So your theory is Steve killed Mel, called me, and then calmly sat outside waiting to be arrested?”

  “Never said he was bright.”

  Declan stared at him in disbelief. What an—

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “How did you know about Mel’s death?”

  “Got a 911 call.”

  “From who?”

  Keith shrugged. “Didn’t leave his name.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “That Mel was dead.”

  Declan looked around the diner. None of the windows offered a view behind the counter. “How did the caller know that?”

  “I don’t know. They probably walked in, saw him, and left to call.”

  “When did this call come in?”

  “Five minutes ago.”

  Declan supposed it was possible that someone had come in before Steve. But why? Everyone knew Mel’s didn’t open until six. And it’s not like there were a lot of people out this morning. “You have that call taped?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. We’ll need it.”

  Keith took a step toward Declan. “Maybe you didn’t hear me before. This is my crime scene.”

  Through the window, Declan saw Steve being shoved into the back of a squad car, none too gently. Declan was torn. He wanted to go with Steve, but he knew the real answers were here. He put up his hands.

  “Okay—your crime scene. But I have more experience with them. How about you leave me a deputy and I’ll process the scene for you?”

  Keith shook his head, but before he could speak Declan plowed on. “After all, it always looks good when you take advantage of the resources at hand. Constituents really love that. Besides, you have Steve to interrogate.”

  Keith seemed to consider Declan’s words. “I still need to see the crime scene.”

  Declan held up his phone. “I’ve already taken pictures. I can send them to you. We can button this up nice and quick. I’m sure you have a lot of other important duties to see to today with the storm coming in.”

  “Damn right I do.” He grunted. “All right, you do the scut work and I’ll interview Kane. Send me those pictures.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door. The deputy jumped to attention, pulling open the door for him.

  Declan quickly pulled out his phone and dialed. “Pick up. Come on, pick up,” he murmured.

  “Hello?” came the sleepy reply.

  “Jack. You need to get down to the police station. Steve’s in trouble.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Declan turned back to Mel’s body. There had to be something here that could help Steve.

  Wrong focus, Declan. There must be something here that can tell you who killed Mel. You don’t know for sure it wasn’t Steve.

  He nodded to himself. He needed to be objective. Anything other than that and he was no better than Keith.

  The door behind him opened. Declan glanced over as Russ stepped in. “Chief said you needed some help processing the scene.”

  “You know anything about forensics?”

  “I took a couple of classes at the community college and down at the academy.”

  “Good enough. Go to the trunk of my car and pull out the black duffel bag. It’s got my gear.” Declan patted his pockets. “Shit. I gave Steve my keys.”

  Russ pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “I grabbed them.”

  Declan smiled. Apparently not everybody at the Millners Kill Police Department was a complete idiot. “Great.”

  Russ disappeared outside and returned in a few minutes. Declan noticed that when he left and when he returned, he was careful to open the door only enough to let himself through, letting very little of the storm in. The kid had the makings of a decent cop.

  Russ held up the bag. “What’s first?”

  “There are some extra booties and gloves in there. Once you have them on, grab my camera and start taking pictures. I already took some with my phone but I want better shots. Careful you don’t step in any of the blood.”

  Russ nodded and got to work. Declan pulled out the evidence cards, then placed them near anything he wanted extra attention paid to.

  An intake of breath had him looking over at Russ, who was now standing above Mel, looking a little paler than he had five minutes ago.

  “You okay?” Declan asked.

  Russ nodded, but his breathing was a little labored. “I really liked Mel.”

  “I know. He was a good man. But the way we honor him right now is by doing the best job we can, okay?”

  Russ swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”

  Declan raised an eyebrow.

  Russ shrugged self-consciously. “I’m just not real good with blood.”

  “That’s not a bad thing to be.”

  “Yeah, maybe for someone who’s not a cop,” Russ muttered.

  Declan and Russ spent the next hour processing the scene. When Declan was sure they’d gotten as much as they could, he walked over to the bag and put his gear away. “All right, Russ. Tell me what we know.”

  Russ followed him. “Mel was taken by surprise. He didn’t have a chance to defend himself. The doer stabbed him thirty times by my count.”

  Declan noted that Russ seemed less nauseated now, more confident. “Notice anything about the stab wounds?”

  “It’s hard to tell with the shirt, but they all look deep. No hesitation.”

  Declan nodded. “What does that tell you?”

  “Our guy was committed.”

  “Yes.” Declan pulled a bottle of Luminol out of the bag. “What else did you notice about the blood?”

  Russ paused
. “I mean, there’s a lot, which means our guy would have been covered in it. But there’s no blood leading to the door.”

  “Which tells you?”

  “He wasn’t panicked. He was in control. He cleaned up.”

  Declan nodded, handing Russ the bottle. “Spray this over the path from the door to Mel and then through the kitchen.”

  Russ started to spray while Declan pulled down all the blinds.

  “Hey, Declan?” Russ called.

  Declan looked over.

  “Should I spray the counter? I’m just thinking maybe when the killer stood up, he might have grabbed on to it for support.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Russ smiled and sprayed the counter on both sides of Mel’s body. He went back and did the kitchen area, then returned to Declan. “Done.”

  “All right. Let’s douse the lights.”

  Russ reached over next to the door and flipped the switch. “Oh my God.”

  Glowing splotches of blue-green showed up all over the place. Blood was splattered along the counter and across the kitchen window. The floor was a mass of color just on this side of Mel’s feet. The killer must have literally been standing in a puddle of blood. Even Declan was shaken by the amount of it. It was odd, though: Why would the killer bother cleaning all that up? It was as if the doer wanted to be sure that whoever found Mel didn’t know his body was there until they were almost of top of it.

  Declan headed back to the counter. “He cleaned up there,” he said, pointing at the sink.

  Russ pointed to a bright circular spot on the floor next to the sink. “Would that be where he dumped his bloody clothes?”

  “Probably. So he got changed, which means he brought a change of clothes with him. He planned this.”

  “You think this was Steve?”

  Declan looked over at Russ. Declan’s gut told him no. But the evidence? It didn’t really tell him anything. “We need to figure out what time he died. That’ll give us the window.”

  “Can you tell that yet?”

  “Not for certain. But it was hours ago, at least six or seven. We can do a liver temp, that’ll let us know.”