The Beast Within: Mended Souls #2

by Jacquie Biggar

  He looked down at his hands strangling the steering wheel and forced himself to relax. He took a drink from the cold cup of coffee he’d been nursing all night and grimaced. It tasted like shit, but at least it was wet. He ran a finger down the side of the red cup and smiled. His collection was growing. He’d made a game out of stealing fragments of his victims’ lives and watching them wonder what was going on. Then, when he had them in his grasp, he’d lay the pieces out around their prone bodies and they’d know… It would be there in the dilation of their pupils, in the tensing of already tense muscles, in the surge of panic-driven thrashing. He’d been stalking them long before they were taken—if only they’d paid attention to the signs.

  He could have told them it wouldn’t have mattered—they were women. Inferior beings. Good for cleaning and fucking and not much else. Certainly not worthy of raising children. Look at his own mother—may she burn in Hell—the bitch had done everything in her power to belittle him from the time he learned to walk. It hadn’t mattered what he tried to do to please her, it always fell short. He pictured her laid out on that table, gasping for breath, and his chest swelled with pleasure. He’d enjoyed making her beg for mercy. It had felt incredibly good. All-empowering. The release from years of abuse was heady. He’d gone wild for a time, partying, traveling, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

  The sex came easily, women had always found him attractive. He’d even managed a couple of normal relationships, that is until the woman in question decided to create rules. He hated rules, refused to ever be bound by them again. Freaking broads, never knew when to leave a guy alone. They always needed everything cut and dried.

  “The lawn needs mowing, honey.”

  “Could you be a sweetheart and take out the trash?”

  “Why can’t you ever pick up after yourself? Just because you’re a cripple, do you think I’m your maid?”

  That one had been the first to die—after his dear old mom. She’d hit a nerve, and before he knew what he was doing, her neck had snapped and her eyes had rolled back in her too-stupid-to-live head. The anger had been all-encompassing. So she thought of him as a cripple, did she? He’d left her lying in a puddle of her own urine, gone out to the garage, and came back with a hacksaw. It took some doing, but he’d managed. Now she could travel through Hell the way he did on earth—with one goddamn foot.

  Instead of remorse, it was relief that flooded his gut and put a smile on his lips. Dumb bitch.

  He’d wrapped her in a blanket, carefully removed any sign of his presence, and took her on a one-way drive to the forest. It had been surprisingly easy to get away with. Even when their connection came out in the investigation, his job had given him an airtight alibi.

  After that he’d avoided relationships, turning to one-night stands and prostitutes to take care of business. But something was always missing. Nothing gave him the same thrill he’d felt taking a life. And that’s when he turned his fantasies into reality. His travels gave him a wide-open hunting ground, here today, gone tomorrow. The cops never even came close to catching up, so he decided to up the stakes, leave them some clues. Not enough to find him, he wasn’t that stupid, but just enough to make the game worth playing.

  He thought of the thrill he got from branding that first bitch, the stench of singed flesh, the screams of pain. Better than drugs. The rush of power flew through every atom of his body, zinging like lightning through his blood, filling his pores, and making his cock swell. He was always careful, no need to leave any DNA for the cops to find, and when he was done, he’d end their pitiful lives. Snuff out their hopes and dreams the same way his had been killed. Show them how weak they were. How stupid.

  A car pulled into the driveway and sat idling. A moment later O’Rourke stepped out the door, followed by Julie. He lifted his hand to acknowledge the driver, then turned and pulled her into his arms, right there in broad daylight. The bitch had her claws in him good. That’s okay, it wouldn’t be for long.

  O’Rourke kissed her, then waited until she went inside before getting into the squad car. Too bad he didn’t realize it was too late—trouble had already found its way to the Crenshaw house.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Connor had a tough time holding his goofy smile inside. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this—lighthearted, happy. Filled with promise. Julie was amazing. Warm, beautiful, smart. By mutual agreement, they’d left their troubles at the door and spent twenty-four hours in their own little world, no past, no future, just now. He liked her—a lot. She was funny, sweet, and incredibly sexy. He wanted more time with her before the kids returned and life got complicated. And they still needed to talk. He wanted her to give up the ABC Killer story, it was getting too dangerous. The prick was playing with them. It was almost like he knew their moves before they did.

  “You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself,” Maddie said.

  Connor glanced over, pulled out of his thoughts. “Where’s Matt?” He ignored her knowing look, concern furrowing his brow. “I thought he was back on shift?”

  She signaled and took the corner before answering him. “He was, then he called in yesterday afternoon and booked out, said his head was hurting.”

  Damn. Matt was his partner; he should have been there for him. Make sure he got his stubborn ass into the doctor’s. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and checked for messages. Nothing. Matt had no family. Over the years, Connor had taken on the role of older brother—read listener, slash guidance counselor. They’d butted heads a few times, but had grown close, too. Connor couldn’t ask for a better guy to have at his back.

  He speed-dialed Matt’s number, but got the answering machine. “Hey, bro, give me a call, we have work to do.” He clicked off and shrugged at Maddie’s enquiring look. If Matt didn’t get back to him by the end of the day, he’d pop over and check on him. For now, he had a case to catch up on.

  “What’s happening with our Jane Doe?” he asked.

  He could see her donning her police mantle, it almost made him smile. He’d been that young once, idealistic. Years of fighting a losing battle with crime and corruption had leeched the naiveté out of him like a vampire sucks blood. It had left him jaded, cynical. Until Julie. She made him feel young again, like anything was possible.

  “No news on the body yet, sir, they’re still looking. There’s a lot of old growth forest to comb through, not to mention the rivers and ravines. They’ve brought in the cadaver dogs, but she could be anywhere.” Maddie slowed to a stop for a red light and turned to meet his gaze. “Vancouver, sir, that’s a lot of people to protect.” The light turned green and she continued down the road, the silence oppressive.

  She was right. They were up against nearly insurmountable odds. The prick could be anywhere between the mainland and here. For all they knew, he could be holed up on one of the Gulf Islands right now, just a ferry hop away from his next victim.

  He stared out the front window, absently noting the arrival of spring evident in the budding cherry and magnolia trees lining the road, the lush green of the grass, and the city’s landscapers out en masse preparing for the busy tourist season. Just another reason why he needed to catch this guy—and soon.

  They pulled up to the station a short time later. Connor was relieved to see his car in the parking lot, retrieved from the airport as per his request. He nodded toward it, glancing at the corporal, “Did you see to that?”

  She stopped beside him and he was faintly surprised by her lack of height, barely clearing his shoulders. Her forceful personality within the walls of the office more than made up for any lack of stature.

  “I did,” she answered. “It’s also been filled up, washed, and the interior cleaned, sir.”

  He acknowledged her unspoken reprimand. “Thank you, corporal. I appreciate you taking the time and effort.” He headed for the doors, but couldn’t resist one last jab. “Next time, try and park it in my stall.”

  She was still sputtering when he
pulled the door open, waited for clearance, and then strode toward his office. But once the door closed, he sobered. A quick call through to the Vancouver PD verified everything Maddie had told him, with the addition of new evidence—the search team had uncovered a small chest filled with assorted items, including a puzzle piece. The other articles included a watch, a locket containing a child’s portrait—his heart tugged—and a pair of non-prescription reading glasses. It was like the bastard was taunting them.

  They had unearthed a similar chest near the woman found in Sooke. What was his game? Why the puzzle pieces? And why did he take mementoes of their lives only to stash them with the bodies? It must have some sort of significance for him, like the severing of the feet. Connor’s gut was telling him this guy was either an amputee, or had been abused by one. It made sense. He’d probably been bullied—most likely by a woman he had counted on for love and support, either a parent or a lover.

  Connor grabbed a pen and paper to write down his synopsis.

  A tradesman- someone who frequently traveled.

  Mid-thirties-early forties- Had to be in decent shape due to location of the victims.

  Handicapped- Either himself or someone close to him.

  A loner- His disconnect feeds his aggression. Don’t discount marriage, but unlikely.

  Knowledge of the area- has a working knowledge of the coastal areas.

  And maybe the most important-

  Has knowledge of police procedures.

  Connor turned on his computer and started an inter-departmental search for one or more hits off his list. While he waited, he leaned back in his chair and contemplated the far wall. His wall of pride, he’d called it. There was the framed portrait of him graduating police academy—The Depot—in Regina. Various commendations and awards, and even a picture of him and his wife, Carla, taken not long before she’d been killed on the job. He’d known marrying a fellow officer, even if she was from another department, was a risk. Their lives were on the line twenty-four-seven, it was just part of the job. But he’d always figured he’d be the one to go, never her. It had devastated him for a long time.

  Long enough to wonder if he wasn’t making a mistake getting tangled up with Julie.

  The women in his life didn’t fare very well.

  Chapter Thirty

  Julie floated down the hall to her bedroom. The past hour shimmered in her mind like an erotic film noir. The tough, cynical detective and the lonely widow. She grinned like a love-struck fool. Connor brought out her inner rebel. She’d taken the lead in the shower for the very first time in her life—and she’d liked it.

  He’d received a call for work not long after, so they hadn’t had much time to talk, but Connor had mentioned taking her out for dinner later. That seemed promising.

  She opened the drawer and dug through until she came out with some spicier underclothes than her usual comfort wear. Might as well dress to impress, just in case. Her eyes shined at her in the mirror, betraying her anticipation. She fingered the slight rash on her neck, a visual reminder of the man and all the places that mouth had been.

  She hugged the memories close.

  Whatever happened from here on out, Connor had given her a gift. He’d proven with his loving and kisses that instead of a dried up old widow at the age of twenty-nine, she was still a woman—and a sensual one too.

  She was buttoning her blouse over a pair of gray linen pants when the doorbell rang. Her heart stuttered and her fingers missed the hole.

  He came back.

  She finished fastening her shirt, tucked it into her slacks, took a last glance in the mirror, noted her flushed cheeks, and hurried down the hall to open the door.

  “What did you forget?” The laughter sputtered out when she tugged the door open and saw who was on the other side.

  “Hey,” Ron said, his gaze doing an appraising head-to-toe before coming back to her face. “Thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to go over our notes.”

  Julie bit back a retort. He could have waited the ten minutes for her to get to the station. She immediately felt bad. It wasn’t his fault she’d been hoping her lover had returned. Imagine that, she had a lover.

  The goofy grin returned and Ron smiled in reply, stepping past her into the house.

  “You’re in a good mood today. What happened, you get laid?”

  She stiffened. How could he know that?

  He glanced at her over his shoulder as he set a pile of folders onto the coffee table. “I’m kidding, sheesh. It was a joke, Crenshaw. You going to help me with these, or what?”

  She reluctantly closed the door and followed him into the room. “You don’t need to be a pig, Ron. Let’s just stick with the case, shall we?”

  He shrugged and sat in the same chair Connor had occupied, but whereas he’d seemed rather adorably uncomfortable, Ron sat back and crossed one long leg to rest his ankle over his knee.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ve been compiling all this shi… stuff while you were away. Boss wants to run with the story for the weekend edition so we gotta roll.”

  Guilt mixed with annoyance. This was her story. She didn’t mind sharing the spotlight with the rest of her team, but since when did that include Ron? Still, it was good of him to gather the info and bring the files over. He could have left her out of the loop and gone straight to Taylor, taking all the credit.

  “Thanks, Ron. I do appreciate your input on this. How about a peace-offering? Would you like a cup of coffee?” She wasn’t sure if the satisfied gleam in his eye came from her compliance or the thought of caffeine.

  “Yeah, that would be great. I haven’t had my quota yet today.” He grinned and that attractive dimple made an appearance. “I’ll sort these out while you get it ready.”

  She nodded and turned away. She needed to cut him some slack. He really was a nice guy.

  A couple of hours later they had ironed out a presentation that Taylor would love. It was sensationalist journalism at its finest—great for reviews, not as good for peace of mind.

  Julie’s research had shown a trail of death that swept from one end of the country to the other over the course of a decade, and yet the RCMP hadn’t picked up on the similarities until the past year. Or at least not that they were admitting to. Part of the problem was the killer’s MO. He’d changed over the years, become more refined. Colder. The first murders were the work of rage. The forty-five-year-old choked until it ruptured capillaries in her eyes and nose and crushed her trachea. Then there was the young mother, savagely raped and murdered, her foot cut off with a hacksaw.

  Who did something like that to another human being?

  She shuddered and turned the page of the report. After that everything got quiet for a while. Maybe he’d traveled, maybe even gone to prison on another offense, there was no way to tell until they caught him, but then, it happened again.

  This time it was Winnipeg, and the woman was a street worker. Aboriginal, sixteen, missing from her home for a year and a half before the body was found dumped in a farmer’s well. Missing a foot.

  Since then there had been at least five more cases she could attribute to the ABC Killer as he’d worked his way west. Now he was on their turf and she planned on doing whatever she could to bring him down.

  Whether Connor approved or not.

  “Listen,” Ron interrupted her musing. “I think we should take another drive out to Sooke, talk to some of the townsfolk and get more of the human interest angle. What do you think?”

  Julie nodded. It would look good on TV, the distraught parents, the overworked mayor trying to control her town’s very real fears. It was a less than agreeable part of the job, but necessary for ratings. She understood, but she didn’t have to like it.

  “You can do the interviews. I’ll be your cameraman for the day. Unless you think we should wait for Sam and Rudy?” he asked, rising to his feet. He was a big man and she hurried to stand to gain a more level footing.

  “I’m sure we can manage,
” she said, and grabbed her purse from the floor. “Let’s get going then. I want to be back in time to add this to the post.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, too quick for her to catch, then the killer smile was back and he raised a hand to guide her out the door. “After you.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Julie kept both hands on the wheel, uncomfortable with driving Ron’s four-by-four truck on the narrow, winding road to Sooke. When he’d mentioned the start of a headache she’d offered to drive, but had expected to be using her Civic, not his big boy toy. He wanted to get some shots of the forestry trunk road where the victim had been found, and though her car might be cute, she knew its limitations.

  Marshmallow clouds layered the horizon, creating an intimate setting in the cab that would have been great with Connor—with Ron…not so much.

  “I hope we can get back to town before the rain starts,” she said, glancing over to see him thumbing over map coordinates on his cellphone. “What’s the matter? I thought you said you knew where we were going?”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “I said I thought I knew where we were going. I’m new to the island too, don’t forget. Still learning my way around. Don’t worry,” he held up his phone, “Siri will lead us the right way.”

  She grimaced and turned her attention back to the road. Just what she needed, missing in the boonies all day. Connor would be upset. She should call him before she lost cell coverage—it had been spotty the last time she’d been to Sooke.

  She felt around on the seat beside her and came up empty-handed. What the…? A quick glance told her what she already knew—her purse was missing.