Daddy's Little Killer

by LS Sygnet

  "I'm not going to sleep with you out of gratitude, Todd."

  "Perhaps you'll decide you like me in spite of how we met."

  Blessedly, the knock at the door prevented the conversation from deteriorating further.

  Chapter 4

  We nibbled. Flirted. Drank two bottles of wine. Somehow I drifted from the safety of my chair to the end of the sofa. Eventually, both of us gravitated toward the center. Todd liked to talk, and the more wine he drank, the more he did it. I learned that his best friend was a man named Crevan, that his mentor was Tony from, and I quote, "another life" which no amount of wine could pry out of him, and Todd spoke of his parents with great reverence.

  At last, a topic I understood and shared his pain of separation. My reasons were different of course. Todd's parents died almost two decades ago.

  "Cancer," he said softly. "My mom died from pancreatic cancer. They tell me it's one of the worst kinds a person could get. I don't know much about it other than that it took my mom faster than any of us were prepared for." He sipped his wine. "Dad took it harder than I would've imagined. I know I joked about marriage before, but if my parents were the standard, I guess that's why I've never taken the plunge."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's hard to find someone I could feel that connected to, you know? I mean, when Mom died, I have no doubt that the biggest part of Dad died the same day. He was never the same afterward. I don't think he knew how to live without her."

  My experience with Marie and Wendell was quite different. To my knowledge, Dad was alive and well in upstate New York. Losing the woman who tried to murder him hadn't killed him. Two years on Riker's Island and seventeen years in state prison hadn't done it either. Not even the state of New York had been able to kill Wendell Eriksson.

  "So what happened to your dad?" I let my fingers dance along the back of his hand. Warm skin, sinew beneath leapt a little at the light touch.

  "He went up into the mountains and died."

  "Suicide?" Such a dire question deserved soft and reverent utterance.

  "Not actively. He wasn't found for a long time."

  "I'm so sorry, Todd."

  "Yeah," he said. "I was really close to my father. More than Mom, I think. Don't get me wrong. I loved her dearly and worshipped the ground she walked on. But there's something about fathers and sons."

  "Fathers and daughters too," I spoke softly. Missing Wendell had been on my mind almost every second of every day for the past two years. I felt him inside me, a living, breathing entity that spoke his words of wisdom to guide me through life's deepest pain. By the average person's standard, my father was the embodiment of pure evil. To me, he was the father who loved me, who brushed away my tears and kissed scraped knees. He imparted the wisdom of a lifetime, even if his moral code was twisted when compared to the norm of society.

  His fingers threaded through mine. "You were close to him?"

  I nodded. "Sometimes I miss him so much I feel like I would do anything to be with him again."

  "You mean …"

  "No, I'm not suicidal." And it would literally be suicide to show up at Attica for a face-to-face with my father. "I only wish that things had been different."

  "What about your mother?"

  I shrugged. "We weren't close. Not like I was with Dad. My mother was very religious." A contradiction that bordered on obscene if I thought about it too much. Off robbing armored cars by night, typing up the church newsletter by day.

  "And your dad?"

  "He loved science." Insert forensic natural. My dad could cover his tracks from the best of the best. "And he put his foot down with my mom when it came to exposing me to all of her superstitious stuff."

  "You don't believe in God?"

  "I find religion and spirituality a practical irrelevancy in my day to day life."

  Todd lifted my fingers to his lips and kissed them. "How long have they been gone?"

  "They died about … nineteen years ago, I guess." I reached for my wine glass, but Todd pried it out of my fingers before I could sip. "Are you cutting me off?"

  "I think we should get some air."

  "Todd …"

  "You'll be perfectly safe with me, I promise."

  "Where do you want to go?"

  "Some place quiet. Historic."

  I laughed softly. "All the monuments and museums are closed."

  "You can't walk the mall at night?"

  "I wouldn't advise it."

  Todd bent over and retrieved my sandals from the floor. He dangled the straps from his fingertips. "Then we'll sit on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and count the stars over the Reflecting Pool and you can tell me what I'd see if we were inside the Smithsonian."

  "I could tell you that from the relative safety of this sofa."

  One of his eyebrows arched high. "Relative?"

  His eyebrows had a natural arch upward on the outer borders. Lifted, the expression would've been comical had his eyes not been so serious.

  "Diana, you don't think I'd do something to hurt you, do you?"

  My face felt warm, probably from too much wine, not to mention the scotch I drank before the wine. "I never said I thought it would be painful."

  His blue eyes brightened. "Oh." My sandals hit the floor with a soft thud. Todd's arms wound around me and pulled me closer. His mouth descended. And a cell phone chirped loudly.

  "Son of a …" the embrace aborted. He tore the phone from the back pocket of his jeans. "What?" Snarled. Irritated, he looked a little more Norse deity than human. The blond hair, the golden skin, the dark smattering of stubble on his jaw, bulging muscles that seemed independently sentient. Yeah, he could be Thor reincarnated.

  "Right now?" His voice dipped lower than I'd heard all evening. Goose bumps rose on my arms. Immediately, I imagined that tone in my ear, naked bodies, sweat slicked and sliding together on a –

  "Fine. But this is a damned inconvenient time to –"

  Uh oh. The best laid plans wouldn't be getting any tonight.

  I felt his eyes on me, looked up and met the frustration brimming. I chewed the corner of my lower lip. Lucky stars indeed. Dad's advice thrummed into my frontal lobe. Beware of strangers. Keep your distance. Never tell a story that can come back to bite you, Sprout. My out came in the form of business Todd couldn't ignore.

  "I'll call when it's finished. And thanks for fucking up a perfectly great night."

  I felt and shared his urge to throw the phone across the room. "Duty calls?"

  "Dammit."

  "Hey, it's work. It can't be helped."

  Todd nodded, looked utterly chagrined. "This thing is probably gonna take all night. I'll be lucky to get a nap before the conference starts in the morning."

  "Well I won't keep you." Brave smile. "This evening was lovely, Todd. I feel ten times better now than I did after what happened earlier."

  "I really don't want to leave."

  "I understand," I said. "Been there myself in the past. It's your job. You can't help it. And unless everything you told me earlier was a lie, you're not here on vacation like I am. Right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night," I suggested. Fingers trailed down his chest in a light touch. "I'd like to see you again, Todd."

  "Really?"

  I nodded. For some unknown reason, I meant it too. Or rather, Diana meant it. The line between the role and reality blurred by too much wine and decimated emotional walls. If Diana felt vulnerable, Helen was wrecked completely. "Call my room when you get back from your conference tomorrow. We'll do something special."

  "Promise?"

  I made an X over my heart and walked him to the door. "I won't even stray out until you get back, just to be safe."

  He smiled and relaxed a little bit. "So long as you know that I'd rather be here than working on some nowhere task."

  "Somehow, when you put it that way, it's hard to doubt you."

  "Seriously," he muttered. "I'm off chas
ing down some obscure … ah, never mind. It's not important. I'll call the second I get back tomorrow night." Todd leaned in and kissed my neck, just below my ear. "And that's a promise, beautiful Diana."

  Daylight brought sobriety and common sense. If I took a flight that left Dulles at three, I would be in Darkwater Bay by midnight. I booked a rental car online, and a hotel room in the city proper, as Hardy called it. There was no debate about leaving a message for Todd. Diana Farber would cease to exist the second I boarded the flight for Darkwater Bay.

  They were expecting Helen Eriksson. Sully Marcos wouldn't be fooled by any disguise that didn't involve amputating my legs from the knees down, one of the few lengths I wasn't willing to endure to escape his clutches. The FBI was a non-issue by comparison.

  I wondered why good old Sully wanted to see me. Surely he couldn't be devastated over Rick's death. It was a freebie, a hit he didn't have to contract or pay. The old guy probably sweated bullets for two years wondering if Rick would turn against him.

  Still, Todd's words haunted me all day. My lies knotted in the pit of my stomach. He was a nice man who did a good deed for a complete stranger. It was better to walk away letting him believe the pretty picture I conjured in the form of Diana than to let him learn the truth by becoming enmeshed with someone like me.

  I picked up the phone and called George Hardy. "I'll be in Darkwater Bay around midnight, George. I've already made arrangements for my arrival."

  "I can send a car out to the airport to pick you up. That won't be a problem."

  "It's already arranged," I explained my plans. "So if you'd like, we can meet first thing Wednesday morning to discuss the specifics of what you're proposing."

  "I can make it happen. The head of the governor's special unit will be here too, Helen. Collangelo is determined to see this city get cleaned up one way or another."

  I wasn't sure I liked the implication behind that statement, but considering my recent history, Darkwater Bay might be the perfect place for me to live.

  My wardrobe was too pastel for my liking, a situation I planned to remedy as soon as possible. Instead of chucking the suit for something more comfortable, I accepted light pink and called the front desk for a taxi and my luggage. With one last wistful glance down the hallway where handsome Todd would spend Tuesday evening without me, I left Washington D.C. behind.

  Chapter 5

  Hertz guaranteed an SUV when I booked the reservation. When I landed in Darkwater Bay, they had a Prius waiting for me. I stared at the tiny car with dubious regard. "Seriously? I doubt my legs will fit in there, let alone all of my luggage." Howard the shuttle driver was still lugging my suitcases from the van that delivered me to the car lot.

  Rental girl snapped her gum. "You alone?"

  "How is that relevant?"

  "Cuz if there's no passengers, you can put the extra bags in the back seat of the car. Two should fit in the trunk without a problem."

  This is the story of how I ended up driving a battery operated coffin instead of a real vehicle. I've got nothing against the green movement. I'm merely waiting for the model of vehicle that accommodates anyone taller than five six.

  Howard kindly adjusted the driver's seat as far back as it would slide before I folded myself into the tiny and quiet vehicle. Before I could drive away, an enviable dark Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb behind me. "Please let them be returning a car I would rent," I muttered under my breath.

  No such luck. Two men in suits stepped out of the vehicle. Anxiety sparked between nerve endings in the center of my chest. Marcos knew I was here? David discovered I left the coast and called agents from the local field office?

  Two men approached my car – one older and rotund in the middle, one younger with a deep cleft just left of center chin. His hair dipped down over the edge of one eyelid. He tapped my closed window with a shiny gold badge.

  "Great," I hissed a choice word or two under my breath and depressed the button to open the window. Its motor hummed softly.

  "Dr. Eriksson?"

  I watched his chest expand and freeze the moment our eyes met. Something about the way he looked at me seemed … off. He stumbled half a step backward. Not my imagination.

  I frowned. "Yes?"

  "Detectives Conall and Briscoe, Darkwater Bay PD, Downey Division. Commissioner Hardy informed us you'd be arriving tonight and requested that we escort you to a fresh crime scene."

  I shook my head, more of a rattle really. "Detective, I haven't even agreed to consult on cases for Darkwater Bay yet."

  "I understand, Dr. Eriksson, but this case is …"

  The man on the other side of the car, presumably Briscoe, muttered something to his partner. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was clear as day. Serious.

  "Fine. I'll go with you to this crime scene."

  "If you'd like, we can take you, ma'am."

  "Eriksson will do," did I really look old enough to warrant ma'am? Any woman approaching 40 who tells you she doesn't mind being called ma'am is either insane or a liar, possibly both. Ma'am. Why not call me grandma while you're at it?

  "I'll follow you in my rental," I said. "I'd rather not take a trip into the city only to have to return for the car after I see your crime scene."

  The passenger door popped open and the round detective grunted. He wasn't fitting inside a whole lot better than I was. "Tony Briscoe, Dr. Eriksson," he said. "I'll ride along with you so I can fill you in on the particulars of the case, what we know, why this thing is such a goddamned hornet's nest already. Also, I can help you get through our ground cover so you don't get turned around on the way to the scene."

  I clicked on the GPS system. "What's the address?"

  "Forty-two fifty Templeton Lane."

  Coordinates entered. "Nightingale?"

  "That's the one," Briscoe said. "Puppy'll be right behind us." His eyes darted through my open window in silent command to his partner. "This is a mess, Dr. Eriksson. I won't beat around the bush about it at all. We got a dead vic in Central Division's territory, and everybody from the governor down is afraid it's gonna be the Bennett case all over again."

  "What's the Bennett case?"

  "Fifteen years ago, a young teenage girl was found dismembered in the Elegiac River. Her name was Brighton Bennett."

  "Dismembered in what way?"

  "Head and hands gone. We never recovered them."

  "We?"

  "They technically. That case belonged to central too."

  "And you're with …"

  "Downey Division, ma'am."

  "Please don't call me ma'am." The GPS offered its first cue at direction when I pulled away from the curb. "So why is my welcoming committee from Downey Division?"

  "We were available. Three of central's five homicide detectives are holding down the scene until you arrive."

  "What? Why would they do that?"

  "Hardy's orders, Doc."

  "Don't call me Doc. What does this crime have to do with your old case? Or are you telling me it was never closed?"

  "It was and it wasn't. I'll be blunt. You're walking into a war zone without any Kevlar, Dr. Eriksson. Hardy wants Downey to take the lead on this investigation. The boys from central aren't too happy to see another unit take over their turf."

  "That doesn't tell me how this case relates to the one that was closed but not really." Briscoe was remarkably vague for a man who claimed to be blunt. "Is there a link between the two?"

  "I'll let you make that call. What I can tell you is that there's another vic in Nightingale missing her head and hands."

  "Teenager?"

  "No ma'am. She certainly is not."

  "Do you know anything about the victim yet? I'm not sure you understand how I do what I do, Detective Briscoe. Victimology helps me determine the type of person most likely to have committed a crime. The more I know about her, the better the chances are of figuring out why she was targeted by a perpetrator. How teenage was this victim from the old case?"


  "Fifteen. Is that important?"

  "It depends. Was sexual assault part of the crime?"

  "That was never determined. Her body was discovered in the water, so there wasn't a whole lot of evidence left to collect if you know what I mean."

  I frowned. Semen can remain present inside the vagina for up to five days even if a woman bathes and showers regularly. It cannot be ruled out automatically simply because of hygiene. "Had she been in this river for a long time?"

  "The medical examiner put the time of death at 48-72 hours prior to the discovery of her body."

  "How long had she been missing before she was found?" I asked. The Prius guidance system told me to turn left. I signaled and glanced in the rearview mirror. Conall's turn signal matched mine. So far so good, little Prius.

  "Three days."

  I snorted softly. "So the medical examiner believed she might've been held for up to twenty-four hours after the abduction, but he didn't bother to check for evidence of sexual assault?" Hadn't Hardy said something about an incompetent ME? That was why Maya Winslow was out here. My thoughts took a left turn with the car, long enough to wonder if news of Rick's indictment had filtered through the state coroner's office in Maryland before Maya moved to the left coast.

  "Like I said, she was found in the water."

  "But what about abrasions, tearing, other evidence of trauma to sexual organs?"

  "You'd have to talk to the ME about that, ma'am … er … Dr. Eriksson."

  "Will Dr. Winslow be at this new crime scene?"

  Briscoe's eyes pierced the darkness. "You know her?"

  "We've met a few times. Does that matter?"

  "No, I guess she'll be happy to see you join the team."

  "This turf war … "

  Briscoe cleared his throat and picked at his thumbnail. "It ain't gonna be pretty. I'd imagine that Rogers and Daltry are burnin' up the phone lines tryin' to get a hold of Chief Lowe to have him override Hardy's order to hand this case off to Downey."