“You’re right. It’s something different every time. He’s unsure or is still perfecting his methods.” Matt ran the earlier cases through his mind. “She must’ve initially put up a fight, and he beat the shit out of her. Then she tried to play his game. Jessie was street savvy, smart enough to know the more she protested the worse the situation would get.”
Ash pointed his pen at Jessie’s hand. “Check out her fingernails.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet she scratched the bastard, and he cut off her fingernails. With any luck, she left us his DNA. We’ll have every deputy watch for anybody with scratches.”
Ash circled the perimeter a second time. He’d pace and think. Walk and study. Commit the scene to memory. When Ash leaned against the hood of Rey’s car and went back to his notes, Matt retrieved a sheet from the trunk of his cruiser. Dr. Reinhardt had given him a couple of extras after he’d completed Annie’s autopsy.
“I’m going back to town and break the news to Vince,” Matt said while he covered the body. “No need making him wait.”
“Not alone.” Ash’s expression left no room for argument.
****
Tuesday, September 5th, 12:00 p.m.
The wait for the ME’s men turned into an endurance test. Matt and Ash returned from a grueling hour with Vince to find Matt’s small team still working by themselves.
“How’s Vince?” Rey crossed the short distance to Matt.
“Not good,” Matt answered. “Luckily, he wasn’t alone. You guys find anything?”
“Nothing but flies.”
Rey fell in step with Ash when Matt peeled off and circled the scene to speak to the rest of his team. The sun beat down on the red clay road and bounced back, sending ripples of heat across the horizon. Cattle fought off the heat and buzzing flies by swatting at them with their tails while bunched under scrub oak trees, which provided no real shade.
Ash hadn’t been out in the sun long before he complained that his extra long appendage couldn’t be used to fight flies. Decency forced him to tolerate the irritating pests all day. It was a claim Matt and Rey exchanged glances over and chose to ignore.
The high wind sandblasted exposed skin. By the time the forensic crew drove away with the body, Ash was threatening to kill one of the rancher’s steers and cook the damn thing for supper.
“I’d like you to tell me how you managed to survive the day and not look like shit.” Ash glared at Rey and then finished the bottle of water one of the forensic team had provided.
“It’s in the genes. The heat doesn’t bother me.”
Rey didn’t look like he’d crossed the Sahara on foot. Ash looked like he’d tried and failed. Matt knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tuesday, September 5th, 9:15 p.m.
JC was still alive. Groggy, but alive. Shit, he’d talked nonstop since the trailer door opened. Thankfully, safely tucked away in Mama’s closet, his ramblings were muffled.
Apparently, men were no different from women, because they all asked the same question. Why are you doing this? Over and over again.
He restrained himself from opening the door and kicking the shit out of JC to shut him up. The plan was working, and now wasn’t the time to fuck things up.
He slid on a pair of gloves, grabbed JC’s feet, and pulled him into the living room. Answering his questions would be fun, and since he’d be dead shortly, the bag could come off.
JC blinked repeatedly, probably to adjust to the bright light. Inside that closet was dark and must’ve been pitch black with the bag over his head.
“What happened?” JC shook his head like a dog.
“You were kidnapped.” That was as honest an answer as he could give.
“I don’t get it. If this is a joke, Danny, it’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.” It was hard not to. “Am I?”
“I heard a woman’s voice.” His gaze scanned the empty trailer. “Where is she?”
“Gone.” Damn daylight savings time, it was finally dark enough to take care of business.
“Come on, man. Cut this shit out. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You came to help me. And believe me, you will.”
“I remember following you home. What happened?”
“I brought you a beer outside, only I’d added some night-night pills. You stumbled inside and fell on the couch.” He rubbed his lower back. “Stuffing you in the closet was the hard part.”
Interesting how calm he felt now the time to kill JC had come. He’d jumped at every sound all day long, like somebody might read his mind. The jitters were gone, probably because his plan was perfect.
“The fun’s over.” JC huffed out through clenched teeth. “Untie me, and let me go home.”
“Stop struggling. You can’t have rope burns.” He spoke in a calm, level tone but pulled the pistol and pointed it at JC’s head. The slime ball needed to know the seriousness of the situation.
“I what? Untie me, goddammit. I gotta piss.”
He flipped open his pocket knife and sliced the rope, freeing JC’s feet while keeping the gun steady. “Get up and listen closely. You walk down that hall and take a leak. Remember, I’ll be watching. You fuckin’ flinch, and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
JC’s legs wobbled as he got his feet under him and stumbled to the john. He turned and held his hands out. “I can’t do this with my hands tied.”
Fuck. He studied a minute, could JC maneuver all the steps without help? Holding his dick for him wasn’t an option, but he didn’t want piss all over the trailer either. “Sit down on the floor.”
“What?”
“Are you deaf? Sit down.” He went to the kitchen and returned with a knife. “When I cut the rope you roll over on your belly. Understand?”
“Why?”
The cold steel of the .380 against JC’s temple silenced any argument. “Ready?” JC obeyed instructions, his eyes darted around looking for an escape route.
“Now what?” JC asked from his down-facing position.
“Crawl in the bathroom and sit on the toilet. Remember I’m watching. If you want to die sitting on the toilet, make the wrong move.”
None of this was in the plan, and the time wasted ate into his schedule. He had to get things moving before the whole thing turned into a cluster-fuck. He wound up seeing a lot more of JC’s anatomy than he wanted before JC finally zipped his jeans and crawled back into the hall. Belly down, he held his hands over his head and retied them. The extra precautions were necessary. JC wasn’t stupid. He’d do his best to find an opening and break free. Not happening.
Catherine had better appreciate everything he was doing for her.
“We’re taking a ride.” He ordered JC to stand.
The rest of the night had been planned carefully. JC’s pickup now sat around front, and JC sat on the floor. Obeying the speed limits, he drove out to the site where he’d left Julia Drummond and parked. It was a bit of a drive from the trailer, not too bad of a hike back, all he had to do was cut through a few pastures.
“Get out.” He stood back and let JC stand.
JC gulped the night air while his gaze sorted out his location. The stench of nervous sweat had filled the air inside the pickup. His jaw twitched. “You crazy motherfucker, when I get my hands on you, you’ll think twice before you pull shit like this again.”
The point of the gun shoved hard against JC’s spine drove home who was in charge. The stupid bastard still thought this was some kind of a joke. “Sit at the base of the sign post.”
When the gun pressed into his temple, he became a believer. His entire body shook. “Why are you doing this? I’ve never done anything to you,” he whined, as if it would do any good.
“You brought this on yourself. You should’ve left Catherine alone.”
“What?” His eyes bugged, the pale moonlight glinted off the fear. “I didn’t mean any harm. I’d never hurt her. Come on, we can talk this over.”
“You picked the wrong woman.” His index finger tightened on the trigger. “Catherine is mine.” A single pop and it was done.
JC slumped to the side. Shit, the report of the .380 in the night air was louder than he’d expected. His heart raced and the hornets roared louder. His cock was hard as a steel rod. If he had time to come, they’d settle down. He pushed the buzzing to the recesses of his mind. He’d relive this scenario later at the trailer. This was a busy highway during the daytime, and time was of the essence. He had to follow the schedule.
He ran the plan through his mind, and his body followed the commands. Not to worry. He had everything under control. He retrieved Julia’s blouse from the pickup and slid it under JC’s hands. He untied the knot around his wrists, then slowly pulled the rope free. Holding the soft piece of silk to his nose, he breathed deeply—remembering his first doll—then he shook it hard into the wind. He tucked the blouse in JC’s left hand. The gun went in JC’s right hand.
The sheriff would find articles of clothing from Annie and Jessie inside JC’s pickup. The cab and steering wheel were wiped down. Now, all he had to do was disappear into the night.
He’d grown up hunting in this area and knew to skirt around the thickets, walking through cleared land. He replayed tonight’s events through his mind. Would the sheriff buy it? At first blush, hell yes, everybody would believe for a few days. And that’s all the time he’d need.
****
Wednesday, September 6th, 1:00 a.m.
Matt drove under the glare of the lights and up the driveway Catherine referred to as the runway. He stepped out of his pickup and crossed the walk into her open arms.
“You shouldn’t have waited up.” He leaned down and buried his face in the tumble of wild, red curls. She smelled of vanilla and home. “Damn, I’m glad you did.”
She led him inside by the hand. Again, the thought hit him that he’d follow her anywhere if it meant she’d put her arms around him one more time.
“Have you eaten?”
Matt had to think about that one. “Yeah. Ash went after burgers. I probably smell like onions.”
She stood on her toes and kissed him. Ran her tongue across her lips and smacked. “Nope. Coffee.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. I like coffee.”
“No...I said I’d be here. With you. To make you feel safe. I failed.”
She waved him off with a flick of her wrist. “Please. I don’t expect you to be here every minute of the day and night. Come to bed. You need to rest.”
One of the many things he liked about her was she never pressed him...never made demands. She accepted him. Understood the requirements of the job. She waited until he was ready. Tonight he was especially grateful, because there were no words for the frustration and the anger eating away at him.
He kissed her lightly. A quick peck, a small taste of her soft lips, anything more, and he’d forget he smelled worse than a man on a ten-day-drunk. He knocked at exhaustion’s door, reaching the point of bone weary. Yet his need to make love to her, to hear her cry out his name threatened his resolve to get some rest.
“I’m hitting the shower. You...I expect to be asleep when I get out. I’m not the only one who gets up early.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted and swished her way down the hall.
Matt stripped off his badge, watch, and gun then emptied his pockets on the kitchen table. He made a beeline to the bathroom and shed his grimy uniform, which he’d sweat through several times today. Once in the shower, he put both hands against the wall while hot water sluiced across the back of his head rinsing some of the grit and stench of the day off.
Once again, the killer had left no visible clues. Matt’s hopes rested on Jessie’s fingernails. He prayed the ME might find skin under them. The forensic people had bagged her hands, and the ME would scrape for DNA samples during autopsy. Obtaining DNA results took months and then only produced a suspect if the bastard was in the system.
He laughed when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The junkie’s living around the shipyards in Houston weren’t any grosser. He rubbed his hand down his cheek. This was way past stubble, and the circles under his eyes matched the color of the hair on his face. When he finished shaving, he moved quietly down the hall into the bedroom. At last, his body hit the cool sheets, and Matt breathed out a sigh when his head sunk into the pillow. Catherine turned toward him, rested her hand over his heart, and rubbed a small circle. Her touch steadied his world, calmed his ragged nerves, and soothed the pain in his temples. The rumbling volcano of need woke, and he reached for her. Wordlessly, she slid on top and took him inside.
****
Wednesday, September 6th, 6:30 a.m.
Catherine pulled on her robe and peeked out the window to her front porch. Ash with his cold eyes and gritted teeth could only mean bad news. Her heart physically hurt at the thought of waking Matt. The pounding on the front door hadn’t fazed him. She’d pulled the door open, blocking entrance with her body.
“Is he up?” Ash asked, stepping closer.
Matt looked rough last night, but not compared to Ash today. His disheveled hair and sunburn made him appear gaunt and harsh. A twinge of sympathy hit her. It wasn’t enough to drag Matt out of bed. He’d promised to protect the public—well, who protected him? She would if necessary.
“Shh,” Catherine whispered. “No. He’s not. I didn’t disturb him.” She balled her hands into fists and glared at him. “He’s exhausted. Can’t you give him a few hours to himself?”
Ash’s gaze narrowed, impatience flitted across his face. He studied her for a minute and then closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he appeared to be better composed. In fact, he sort of smiled. He might as well, because he hadn’t frightened her one bit. She was ready to fight to get Matt some rest.
“I’m glad you want to take care of him. Let me assure you, he wants to hear the news. Now go disturb his beauty sleep.” He cocked his head at an angle, waiting.
Damn she hated to yield. Ash had something important to tell Matt, and she had no right to refuse. She stepped back, allowing Ash inside. He surprised her by walking past her into her kitchen, where he began opening cabinet doors.
“Make yourself at home,” she whispered.
“Catherine. Somebody died last night—”
“I’m aware Jessie’s body was found.”
For the second time, he narrowed his gaze and glared at her. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut. What was he not saying?
“Say it,” she challenged him.
“JC was found dead this morning.”
His razor sharp words stabbed through her chest walls and sucked the oxygen from her lungs. Her mind refused to register his words. He couldn’t possibly be right. JC dead? She walked to the cabinet, pulled out the coffee canister, and handed it to him. Moving on autopilot, she went to wake Matt.
She knelt by the bed and kissed his closed eyelids. Her heart squeezed and tears found their way to the surface. Unchecked they ran down her cheeks. “Matt. Wake up.” Her hands trembled when she shook his shoulder and called his name again. “Matt.”
“Hey.” His eyes snapped open. “What’s wrong?”
“Ash is waiting for you in the kitchen.” She couldn’t force additional words from her mouth, not without breaking down. How could JC be gone?
Matt was up and on the side of the bed so fast she lost balance, and he grabbed her arms to steady her. Fully awake, he pulled her chin up higher so he could see her face.
“Tears?” He brushed her wet cheeks with his thumbs while icy blue eyes searched hers. “Ash made you cry?”
“Something’s happened. I’ll let him tell you.” She pulled away from him, held her emotions in check, and returned to the kitchen while Matt dressed. Ash had started the coffee pot and sat waiting.
“I’m sorry if I leaned on you too hard. Matt would expect me to come get him.”
Ash’s tone hit her raw ner
ves like an acid wash. “If you’d leaned too hard, you’d know it. Matt’s dressing.”
“I know this death is a big shock.”
“Who’s dead?” Matt filled the doorway. Hair disheveled and half dressed, his presence commanded attention.
“JC Harper was found dead a couple of hours ago.” Ash’s tone was blunt and to the point. Flat without emotion.
Matt’s gaze shifted to her. His hand caressed her shoulder. “You want us to take this outside?”
“No. I’d like to listen.”
“I don’t see why not.” Matt pulled a chair out for her and then turned his attention to Ash. “What do you know so far?”
“I haven’t seen for myself. I’m told it’s an apparent suicide. Rey caught the call, said to tell you the body was at the drop site where Julia was found.”
Matt scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Let’s get out there.”
“There’s more.” Ash shifted his gaze directly at her then back to Matt. “According to Jake, JC may have been our killer.”
Catherine blinked back the tears. “I don’t believe it. JC wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“You never completely know anybody. We’re all capable of murder...given the right circumstances.” Ash stood and started opening cabinet doors again.
“No,” she argued. “He was too sincere when we talked.”
“You talked about the killings?” Matt asked.
“I told you. The day the package was left at the funeral home. JC and I talked when I was in town. He was sick to think you could possibly believe he would kill anybody.”
“He had items of women’s clothing in his pickup.” Ash poured three cups of coffee and passed one to her and Matt.
“I’ll meet you at the office.” Matt blew on his steaming coffee, turned, and left Ash with Catherine.
“Did he tell me to get lost?” Ash sat his untouched cup down.
“Sounded like it.” She made an effort to smile.
She closed the door behind Ash. Numbness seeped through her limbs. Putting one foot in front of the other, she joined Matt in her bedroom. He’d moved at record speed and was fully dressed. Catherine went to her closet and stood staring. He pulled her to his chest and tried to soothe her. She couldn’t relax because given the opportunity, she’d fall apart. To prevent that from happening she retreated inward. She was an old hand at handling grief and pain on her own.
The Green-Eyed Doll Page 25
