Shoot to Kill

by James Kipling

  “Sweetheart,” her mother said slowly, “you know no matter what you do, there will always be bad people and people getting killed. You’re only twenty-five and you have nothing else in your life but case files and stress. You know I’ve said the same thing to your brothers, but you kids are too damn stubborn like your stepfather. And I worry about you the most. I’ve read that women who have a bad sex life tend to do things dangerous just for a rush.”

  “MOM!” Hazel protested, blushing. “Geez, I didn’t become a cop because I don’t have a boyfriend!”

  “I’m just saying that maybe if you got involved with someone you would be happier.”

  “You should be badgering Jacob about this, not me. He’s engaged, go nag him for grandchildren.”

  “See?” her mother said sharply, throwing her dishrag in the sink. “You automatically put the attention on someone else. I want you to have kids too. You aren’t really a woman until you carry a child.”

  “Well some days I wish I was a man so I wouldn’t have you shoving maternity down my throat,” Hazel snapped as she jumped down from the counter. She was angry – not at her mother, at herself. The thought of settling down and having children was scary to her. Getting shot at is one thing ... changing diapers was another, and she wanted no part of it. If things had been different five years ago, then everything right now would be different. Hazel could feel her anger and knew she had to do something to calm down.

  Then her phone rang. It was her stepfather’s number and she wondered what was going on. “Hey Dad,” she said.

  “Hazel, we just found another body.”

  Her anger immediately evaporated and she closed her eyes. Her stepfather was Chief of Police and often called her on work-related issues, but this was one call she’d hoped she’d never get again. No matter how many murder cases she worked on, she could never come to grips with the idea that so many people could kill without even flinching. Sure, she’d killed a time or two, but it had always been in the line of duty, a life-or-death situation. She couldn’t fathom killing for sport, or for pleasure.

  He quickly relayed the details and hung up. She could feel her mother’s sharp eyes on her as she feigned composure, grabbing an apple and shoving her cell phone into her pocket as if there wasn’t a fresh murder case waiting for her. Her false nonchalance didn’t fool her mother. “What happened?” she asked in a low voice.

  “They just found another body.” Hazel didn’t need to turn around to know her mother’s face had gone ashen. “I gotta go.”

  She left the kitchen before her mother could start up again about her dangerous job. In the living room she found her brothers still squabbling and antagonizing each other. The sight made her heart ache, because the room was one short. Nate, the brother she was closest to, wasn’t there. He’d been doing some undercover work for a while and hadn’t been around in a long time. Seeing Percy and Jacob only reminded her just how much she missed him. For the millionth time she wondered where he was and how he was doing, and hoped he was OK.

  “Hey,” Jacob said as he took a break from antagonizing Percy. “Where are you off to?”

  He was the oldest of the four siblings and had the most experience in homicide. It made Hazel wonder how she’d ended up with The Slitter case instead of Jacob. “Another woman was murdered,” she said as she walked to the mud room. Grabbing her shoes, she slipped them on when Jacob appeared.

  “Would you like for me to tag along? I could give you my input.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind. Plus you could use a hand.”

  She looked down to the floor and nodded slightly. She’d lost her partner three months earlier to a car accident. He’d been a great guy and everyone missed him dearly. Every month she would stop by to see how his family was getting along.

  Together they walked outside. Their neighborhood was full of kids and it looked like every last one of them was outside running and playing, oblivious to the latest murder The Slitter had left behind. One of the parents waved for Hazel and her brother to come over for dinner but they had to decline. “Some other time,” Hazel promised. She loved her neighborhood. It had been a great place to grow up in, and she’d even met her best friend there. Mom did good in picking this place, she mused as they got into the car.

  As she started up her car, Jacob grabbed the file she kept under her seat and began skimming through it. He already knew everything there was to know about the case, but it was his nature to constantly refresh his memory and look for details he might have missed earlier. Hazel turned on the heater and rubbed her hands together toward the chill off of them. There wasn’t snow yet, but Hazel thought she could smell it in the air.

  When they pulled out to the main road, Jacob spoke. “I have to wonder if these murders are the only thing this guy has done. Just look at how he tortures them. I can’t help but think he had some practice before he got to this point.”

  “Well, none of our possible suspects have any sort of criminal history, and there’s nothing that connects any of the women to each other either. If there are other cases he’s responsible for, we sure haven’t found anything to tie them to him.”

  He pursed his lips together as he began to think. “Lisa said that the torture on all of them would take hours to do.”

  “Easily. His ritual demands adequate time. Even before he gets down to business, he has dinner with his victim. Same thing every time: chicken with a side salad and asparagus.”

  “And never any sign of forced entry.”

  “Nope. The only answer is that each victim knows the perp, because there is no possible way to get in without setting off the home alarms.”

  He nodded. “Could work for the company,” he said.

  “First thing we thought too, but nope. Each one had a different system so that theory went out the window.”

  Jacob furrowed his brows and stared out the window at the passing scenery. Lost in their own thoughts, they finished the rest of the drive in silence. Hazel was amazed at how few people were out on the road. Normally it would have taken her forty minutes to make the drive. Tonight she was there in just over ten minutes.

  They arrived on the scene to find several squad cars already there, and a slew of reporters jostling for a better view of the crime scene. They made their way into the building, flashing their badges to be allowed through. Hazel could see their stepfather talking to a balding man just ahead. She recognized the shiny scalp as FBI agent Walter Brooks, an arrogant man who made no effort to conceal his disdain for anyone who didn’t outrank him. He seemed to have a special sneer reserved just for LEOs,* 1which did nothing to endear him to her department.

  “What’s going on?” she asked her stepfather, but Brooks broke in before he could respond.

  “We are here to help you with this case,” Brooks snapped. “Four bodies and you guys haven’t turned up so much as an eyelash. Clearly you need assistance.”

  “Assistance?” she snorted sarcastically. “Is that what you call this? Homicide is doing everything with what we have. I’d like to see you do better, Brooks.”

  They glared at each other, and Hazel was dismayed to see her stepfather take a step back, clearly distancing himself from their confrontation. “We have every right to be here,” Brooks informed her haughtily. “Besides, your stepfather is the one who invited us to come and help out. At least he knows when to put aside his pride and ask for help when he’s out of his league.”

  Hazel shot her stepfather a harsh look, but he refused to meet her eyes. “This isn’t right,” she growled, unable to hide her anger at having a Fed move in on what she viewed as her territory. “We can handle this on our own just fine.”

  “Calm down,” Jacob whispered in her ear, causing her to jump. She’d forgotten all about him coming along. “You can’t win this fight.”

  “Listen to him,” Brooks urged with a smile. “You can’t win this fight, but don’t worry. We want th
is son of a bitch off the streets as much as you do.”

  Rolling her eyes, she shoved him aside and stalked into the apartment. She could hear Jacob apologizing for her and it made her fists clench. She would never apologize for speaking her mind, and she definitely didn’t want others apologizing for her. Taking out rubber gloves, she slipped them on and headed for the body.

  Dr. Lisa Kendrick had been one of the first on the scene and was already crouched over the victim’s body. While on the job she kept her long, glossy black hair tied back in a neat ponytail and wore glasses, but it did little to hide her exotic beauty. Just knowing she would be working a crime scene could cause half the department to show up. Hazel could easily see why her brother fell for her. Lisa was beautiful and brilliant, and had a lovely personality to complete the package. Looking up, she spotted Hazel and waved her over.

  “Just like the others,” she said. "Mouth stuffed full of fabric, then duct-taped shut so no one could hear their screams.”

  “No, this one is different,” Hazel observed with interest. “She’s not posed like the others. Why is that?”

  “Because,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “Her sister walked in on him and broke up the party. Looks like they fought pretty hard. Neighbors said they saw a man run out of the apartment bleeding badly from the shoulder. EMTs found the sister gutted on the floor, holding the victim’s hand and barely alive. They’ll call when she is out of surgery. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and she saw his face.”

  Hazel took a deep breath and turned to face the man she hadn’t seen in over five years. Time hadn’t changed him. He was still the same with those piercing amber-colored eyes and sandy brown hair. In that moment, she wished she’d never gotten out of bed that morning. “Why are you here?” she asked. She’d heard that Owen was working with the FBI, but hadn’t known he was a field agent.

  “I’m part of the FBI team,” he replied. “Look, I didn’t know you were working the case. I didn’t even know you stayed in the city. Last time we talked you had wanted to leave and start over somewhere else.”

  Before she could answer, Jacob appeared beside her, glowering darkly at Owen. Hazel allowed herself a small smile. She could always count on her brother to protect her, even when she didn’t really need it.

  “Hello Jacob,” Owen said. “Been a long time.”

  The tension between the three was thick enough to choke on, and Hazel was grateful when Jacob turned his attention to Lisa and the victim on the floor. She surveyed the apartment, making mental notes of the signs of struggle as she caught snippets of their conversation. “Morgan Mathis…. law student… neighbor called us.” Hazel could see that unlike the previous crime scenes, this one was sloppy. Perhaps this time they would catch a break. Already she’d spotted keys thrown to one side, and blood splatters everywhere.

  “You think the sister fought him?”

  Lisa nodded. “Looks that way. There’s so much blood it’s impossible to call now, but I’d bet my paycheck some of this belongs to the perp. I hope so,” she said grimly. “That poor girl is in critical condition. Multiple stab wounds and a collapsed lung according to the medics. I hope she got at least one good hit in.”

  “Will she live?” Hazel held her breath. A surviving witness could be the key to catching The Slitter.

  “Depends on how tough she is, but she should pull through surgery ok. It’ll be a while before she’ll be up to talking, though. Did I mention he strangled her too? She’ll have trouble talking for a few days at least.”

  “He’s always been careful to time his attacks so no one would interrupt, so she must have come home early. Any ideas why? The fact that he didn’t know about it might be a clue.”

  “No. That’s something we’ll find out when she recovers,” Owen said.

  Hazel nodded. Her eyes constantly scanned the apartment. She spied a glass cup slightly hidden beneath an end table, and waved over one of the forensic guys to tag and bag it. As he retrieved it, she could see miniscule bits of blood and hair on it, and crossed her fingers that it belonged to their killer, and not to one of the sisters.

  From the corner of her eye she could see her stepfather standing awkwardly off to one side. Realizing she was watching him, he motioned for her to come over. She knew he wanted to talk to her about what happened with Brooks. Sighing inwardly, she went to his side.

  “Hazel, listen. You know how the Feds operate. They don’t play fair and I don’t like being kept out of the loop. I’m assigning you to Owen. Wait!...” He held up a hand to quickly silence her protest. “I’m assigning you to Owen and I want you to make sure we know everything they do.”

  She didn’t like the idea of having to work with Owen, but she understood where her stepfather was coming from. Aside from being arrogant and rude, they frequently left out important details and it was the general opinion of her department that they did it on purpose to ensure the cops looked like incompetent buffoons. The Feds loved their camera time, and no one adored seeing his face on TV more than Brooks. If keeping the Chief of Police in the dark would help him wind up on prime time as the one who finally captured The Slitter, she doubted he’d have a second thought about it. Reassured that they had an understanding, her stepfather moved off. Meanwhile she could see Owen watching her from across the room, and wondered if he was aware of her new role as his shadow.

  Jacob and Lisa’s conversation had come to an end, and Lisa headed out the door with the victim’s body on a gurney. Hazel went to Jacob looking for details. “The sister’s name was Kelly Mathis. Law student. The two sisters shared this apartment.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “She must have really pissed him off,” he said solemnly. “All the other victims, everything was controlled, methodical, but not her. Her injuries were much more brutal. He was in a rage when he went to work on her.”

  “Lisa said she thought she’d pull through.”

  “Yeah, but who knows when? For now I’m going to help wrap up here. You should go find out what Owen isn’t telling us.”

  Swallowing a scowl, she reluctantly walked over to Owen. It was clear he wasn’t eager to talk to her. Brooks probably told him to keep his mouth shut, she thought angrily. Finally he suggested they go talk to the neighbor who had called it in, clearly hoping to turn her attention away from himself. “The guy’s name is Arnold, Arnold Hues. Said he saw the perp come running out of the apartment, nearly knocked him down. Until Kelly Mathis recovers, this guy is our best lead.”

  As they made their way down the hall, Hazel marveled at the surroundings. The building was expensively but tastefully decorated. Old money, she thought. Pretty fancy digs for a couple of starving students. The witness lived just two doors down, and he answered on the first knock. His hair, what remained of it anyway, was shockingly white, and made his piercing blue eyes seem that much sharper. Hazel hoped those sharp old eyes saw something that would help them.

  “Detective Hanson, Special Agent Jones. We’re looking for Arnold Hues.”

  “You found him. You want to know about those poor girls.” It was a statement more than a question. He looked back over his shoulder and told a young girl standing just behind him to watch her brother. Shutting the door behind him, he clasped his hands together and peered knowingly at them. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything you saw.”

  “It happened so fast,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “We’d just left the apartment. I was taking my grandkids out for pizza. We hadn’t gotten past that door when screams started. I’ll never forget that sound, not as long as I live. I banged on the door, asking if they were alright, but the screams stopped. I hollered at the kids, told them to run back into the apartment, and then I opened the door.”

  “It was unlocked?” Owen asked.

  “Yes. I pushed it open, and I saw the girls on the floor and a figure over one of them. I guess I screamed. Then the man came running out. He moved so fast! He was covered in blood. So much
of it. I nearly fell over getting out of his way. That’s when I realized my grandkids were standing outside our door instead of inside like I told them. All I could think was to get them inside before that crazy man hurt them. Maybe if I’d been alone –” he spread his hands apologetically. “Their mother is in Chicago. My priority was keeping them safe.”

  “Anything you could tell us about him would be helpful,” Hazel urged. “No matter how trivial it might seem.”

  Arnold stared down the hall towards the door, as if trying to recall the events of the night before. “I remember he was tall, and muscular. He was white too, but I didn’t get a look at his face. I was just thinking about protecting my grandkids, I wasn’t paying attention to him. I’m sorry. I’ve tried to remember details but I just keep seeing the blood.”

  “Well, try harder!” Owen snapped rudely.

  Hazel winced and glared at him. Turning to Arnold, she smiled apologetically. “We understand this has been very traumatic for you and your family. It could be you saw more than you realize, but your mind isn’t ready to show it to you just yet.” She fished a business card from one of her pockets and handed it to him. “You might start remembering details over the next few days that you don’t remember now. If that happens, give me a call, any time day or night.”

  Arnold accepted the card graciously, giving Owen a parting look of disdain before retreating into his apartment and shutting the door. Hazel turned to Owen and spread her hands in disbelief. “What was that for? He’s not some thug dragged in for questioning who needs to be leaned on. The poor guy is probably still in shock. Give him a couple of days and he’ll probably remember a lot more, but not if you treat him like that.”

  “We need answers now and I’m not going to wait around for him to get into a sharing mood. All that will get us is another body.”