Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One)

by C. L. Coffey

  “Actually,” I said, closing my eyes. “I mean I don’t think I can look at those files again. And for the record I don’t think we can eliminate them due to sex or race.”

  I nearly fell out of the chair when I felt something on my shoulder – Joshua’s hand. “No one is forcing you to look through these.”

  “There are two things I'm certain of,” I told him, turning to face him. “The first is that you have a serial killer. The second is that I'm going to be the only one in this place who is going to be able to see the pattern.”

  “Okay,” Joshua nodded. “Then let’s go through them together.” He pulled a file off the top of the pile and flicked it open. “Can we at least eliminate them by age?”

  I nodded. Something in me told me we wouldn’t be looking for someone too old.

  “Good,” Joshua muttered, flinging the file to one side. “Because I would hate to have to include kids in this.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed again, rubbing at my temples. I hadn’t even noticed the ages of the victims – I'd just been looking at cause of death. “I think we can cap the age at thirty,” I told him, quietly.

  “You really don’t have to be here, you know,” Joshua told me.

  I glanced over, finding him watching me over the top of a file. “I'm aware you’re just humoring me at the moment, and that you think I'm completely wrong because I can’t tell you what the MO is, other than the fact I think it’s something related to angels, so I'm staying.”

  Joshua stared at me with his cobalt eyes, then nodded. “Are we happy to take out all those which have been solved, or have a suspect?”

  I nodded, reaching for my own file. “I think we can rule out all of those with witnesses,” I added, adding the rather thick file to those I'd already discarded.

  By late afternoon, we had narrowed it down to five additional potentials, and as I stared at the faces of the four men and one woman, I knew that they too had been killed by the same person as me.

  Behind me, Joshua was clearing the last of the files which had been discarded to one side, so we had space to work. “I'll be back,” he muttered, disappearing out of the door. He returned a few moments later with several items in his hands, including some string, a couple of markers, and some paper. He dumped the items in a heap on the table, reaching for the paper.

  I realized, as he opened it up, it was actually a map of the city, and hurried over to help him attach it to the enormous whiteboard that covered almost the entirety of one of the walls. “What’s this for?” I asked him.

  Joshua leaned back, picking up the first file and plucking a picture of the victim from it, sticking it on the whiteboard, close to the map. “Now, don’t jump down my throat, but I'm trying to establish a connection, or a pattern – one that we can see.” He glanced down at the file and read something, then, peering at the map, stuck a blue star sticker on it.

  I reached for the next file and joined him in placing the stars across the map. It wasn’t until they were all on the map, and I was stood back with Joshua, staring at our findings that I realized exactly what Joshua was referring to. There were two around the French Quarter, and the remaining three were spread out over the rest of the city – as far west as Kenner, and as far east as Lower Ninth Ward.

  I took a sticker and stuck it next to the other blue stars clustered together in the Quarter. “That’s for me,” I muttered. I reached for the file belonging to Preston Johnston. His body was the one that had been found in the Lower Ninth. “There’s something not right about this,” I said.

  “What are you thinking?” Joshua asked, peering over my shoulder.

  I focused on the document in front of me, trying to ignore the fact he was standing so close to me. “I don’t know,” I admitted, flicking through the pages. “I'll know it when I see it...” I trailed off as my eyes picked out some of the words on the page. “...‘Preliminary reports show a lack of blood for this kind of wound, which suggest that the body may have been dumped’,” I read aloud, pointing the text out to Joshua. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you may have just found something that could link these cases together,” Joshua told me, taking the file from me. “Yeah, the detective on this case suspected that the victim had been killed elsewhere – they were unable to find the primary crime scene.”

  “Well where was he before he was killed?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.

  Joshua turned the page over then flicked through the paperwork in the file. “I don’t know. There seems to be some paperwork missing.”

  I reached for the victim from Kenner – Harrison Rakes. Like Preston’s file, this one seemed to be missing a few pages and I pointed it out to Joshua.

  “That’s odd,” he muttered, taking the file from me and laying it out on the table. “But the crime scene photos seem to indicate the body was dumped.”

  “And the same for these,” I added, as I spread open the remaining three files. “How is this possible? How has no one else noticed that it’s a serial killer?”

  “The wounds are different,” Joshua pointed out, taking the close up color photographs of the victims and sticking them close to the relevant pictures of their owners. “Different sizes – from knife to sword, by the looks of things. That’s a huge thing in itself. But they’re split in gender, age, race… this killer doesn’t seem to have a type, and that’s harder to spot. Combine it with the fact they are spread out over the city, some in alleyways, one in an abandoned car, another in an empty house, all spread out over a number of months…”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” I admitted. “But what about the missing information?”

  Joshua sighed and leaned back against the table, staring up at the board. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said. “If it was one file, I wouldn’t be worried, but it’s five. And none of them are from this precinct. In fact, only two are from the same precinct.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Joshua’s hand brushed up over his head, sweeping his hair away from his face. “I don’t know. But I think you’re right. I think these cases are all connected somehow.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mama Laveau

  We stood there, staring at the board for a long time. In some ways, it was a relief to hear that Joshua was starting to believe me, but in another way, I was mortified that I was right. “What now?” I found myself asking.

  “Timeline,” Joshua muttered, reaching for a black marker. He stood up and drew a thick, black (nearly straight) line from one side of the board to the other, just above the map. Switching to a red pen, towards the right hand side, he made a mark in the line, changing the pen to blue and writing above it Emily Montgomery, with a date and an approximate time of death.

  Between the two of us, we quickly worked backwards on the timeline, until my initials were the last one on there. “That’s a lot,” I muttered

  “Yeah,” Joshua agreed, sitting himself down on the table to study the information on the board.

  “Technically, it’s not the last one though,” I told him.

  “What makes you say that?” Joshua asked me, suspiciously, shooting me a sideways glance.

  I shrugged. “There was a girl before me. She became an angel, like me. Well, better than me. She earned her wings.” I joined him on the table.

  “So why don’t we have her file?” Joshua asked.

  “The same reason you don’t have mine,” I told him. “No body was found, nor will be found. I would hazard a guess that if you searched through all the people who had been reported missing, you would have better luck.”

  Joshua’s eyes widened. “You want to search through missing persons?” he asked in disbelief. “How many more victims do you expect us to find?”

  I quickly shook my head. “No, not at all. She was the first and I was the second. There haven’t been any others since me, and there weren’t any more before her. I was merely suggesting that if we wanted to know more ab
out his first victim then that would be where we would find her. Although, that would be interesting considering all I know is she’s called Lilah and I don’t have a description of her.”

  I wish I knew where she had gone. In fact, I made a mental note to ask Michael about her – to see if she had picked things up as easily as I had… or not, as the case was. It would probably be rather helpful to see if I could actually talk to her. To see if Michael was as hard on her too, just to make me feel better. Although, if Michael said she had earned her wings in days, maybe I didn’t want to talk to her.

  A hand waving in front of my face snapped me from my thoughts. “Angel? Are you in there?” Joshua was calling.

  I batted his hand to one side and rolled my eyes. “What?”

  “Did you hear anything I just asked you?” he asked me. “Where’s your head at?”

  “I was just wishing I could talk to her, see how she coped with it all.” I quickly shook my head. “What were you saying?”

  Joshua scratched at his nose and frowned. “Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.”

  I shook my head again. “She’s moved on, and not only do I suspect Michael is the only one who knows where she went, I also have a very strong feeling that he won’t share that information with us.”

  “He would withhold evidence?” Joshua asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Which would mean, what? You would arrest him because he wouldn’t give the location of someone who was dead, only to be found walking around. I think you would get laughed off the force if you tried that.”

  I could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work out what to do next. “We need to find out what the missing information is in these files,” he said eventually.

  “How?” I asked, curious. “Are you going to re-investigate them all?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Joshua replied, pulling a face. “Do you have any idea how much work that would be?”

  I shook my head. Actually, I had no idea how much work went into an investigation. I would hazard it was proportionate to how much evidence there was, and as I glanced over the lack we seemed to have, there was probably a lot of work to do.

  “I’m going to give the other lead detectives a call and see if I can find out what we’re missing. Hopefully, it’s still sitting on their desks.”

  “And if it isn’t?” I asked.

  Joshua pulled himself off the table and turned back to me. “Well, there was either not a lot to go on to start with.”

  “Or?” I pressed.

  Joshua shook his head. “We’re not going down that route yet,” he told me, before he disappeared from the room.

  I let out a long, deep sigh before I too got up from the table and went to examine the board. My hope was that if I stared at it long enough then maybe something would jump out at me and help us identify the killer.

  Instead, as I stared at them, the only thing that jumped out at me was how sad it was these people were dead. With the exception of myself, all the other victims had been born and raised in New Orleans, and now they had died here too – too young. It was one thing to say to a distraught mother that her child was in a better place, but what could you say when they asked why they were dead to start with?

  “Angel?”

  The voice scared me and I jumped backwards with a small squeal. So much for a hard core angel. “What?” I demanded, glaring at Joshua who was now trying not to laugh at me.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “But you were doing that thing where you disappear into your own head and I did try to get your attention a couple of times.”

  I could feel myself beginning to heat up, so I shrugged it off. “How long were you gone?” I asked, pulling a face.

  “Long enough,” he laughed. As though realizing what he had gone for, he sobered up, looking concerned.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I got through to three of the four detectives. The guy who investigated Coleen Richmond is now off on sick leave,” he sighed, slipping into the seat.

  “What about the others?” I asked carefully. “What did you learn from them?”

  “There is supposed to be more information in all of the files. A lot more. Witness statements, more detail on the coroner’s report, as well as the detective’s notes.”

  “That’s good,” I said, relieved. “That means we…” I trailed off, seeing Joshua’s expression. “That’s not good?”

  Joshua sighed, raking his hand through his hair before he stuck his elbow on the table and rested his forehead into his palm. “It would be if we could get it sent over here. Everyone’s too concerned about this hurricane. It’s going to be a big one.”

  “Can they not just email it over?” I asked.

  The suggestion made Joshua give a short bark of a laughter. “Aside from the fact the servers are backed up with everyone trying to save their work, the request won’t fall high on the list of priorities.”

  “Well, can it not wait until after the storm?” I asked. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but surely a couple of days weren’t going to hurt?

  Joshua shrugged. “Probably.”

  I bit my lip and slid into the chair next to him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He lifted his head from his hand to look at me, his ocean blue eyes unblinking. “Not here.”

  I nodded and together we stood. I waited while he took some notes and then watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took pictures of the board. He turned, caught me staring, but softly shook his head as he slipped the phone into his pocket. “Come on,” he muttered, holding the door open for me.

  I stepped out into the corridor, surprised to watch him step out and lock the door behind us. Maybe I had trust issues with angels and their lack of locking anything, but surely, if you’re going to leave anything unlocked, it would be in a police station? And more to the point, who would want to steal paperwork?

  I followed Joshua outside into the late afternoon sun – a hotter and more humid version of the morning sun, and then followed him to his car. Silently we got in. Once again, it was like an oven in there. Joshua turned the air up and the radio on and we pulled away.

  I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at today’s choice in music. “Country? Seriously?”

  I wasn’t trying to be funny, but it earned me a sly grin off Joshua, who leaned forward and turned the volume up to sing along with the song. I don’t like country music, but I’ll be completely honest, if Joshua had pulled out a guitar and started singing an acoustic version of this song, at that moment, I would have been converted. As it was, I was finding a new appreciation for the musical genre.

  After a while, I leaned over and turned the radio down, somewhat reluctantly by that point. “What didn’t you want to tell me in the precinct?”

  We drove several blocks before he answered. I was almost certain he was ignoring my question and I had opened my mouth to repeat it when he finally spoke. “Someone removed information from those files. Someone in that office.”

  “Surely it’s plausible for a few sheets of paper to be missing when they’re transported over, or a detective to leave a sheet on his desk, especially considering you said everyone was worrying about this hurricane?”

  “Sure it’s plausible,” he agreed. “But it wasn’t a couple of sheets. It was almost everything of importance. And I could understand it if it was one case file and one detective, but three of the guys I spoke to were adamant that those files contained significantly more information than we received.” He shot me a sideways glance. “You can’t possibly believe it was a coincidence that the files that you deemed relevant to this serial killer were the ones where the information went missing.”

  I frowned. That seemed a little extreme. “You mean like a mole?” I asked him, slowly.

  Joshua shook his head. “This isn’t a television show with a governmental conspiracy, Angel.”

  “Well I wasn’t comparing you to
Jack Bauer,” I told him, dryly. “But how can you be certain? I mean, why would anyone in there want to remove evidence? You’re the police.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “You’re either incredibly naive or you really want to believe the best in people.”

  I frowned, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. “But why on earth would someone want to take the information from you, unless... unless they were trying to protect someone?” I asked, feeling stupid as I asked it.

  “Exactly,” Joshua muttered, exhaling deeply, as we stopped at a red light.

  “You think,” I started slowly, mulling it over before I voiced my crazy suspicion. “You think that there is an officer who has something to do with these murders?”

  There was another long pause and Joshua took a deep breath, turning to face me. “I hope not,” he told me. “Because those guys are my friends, and I can’t, for one moment, believe that one of them would be capable of doing that, but I can’t think of any other possible explanation as to why that information would be missing like it is.”

  I stared back at him, chewing at my lip. The look in his eyes was almost begging me to tell him he was wrong – that it wasn’t possible and he was just imagining things – but as I thought about it more and more, I could see exactly why he thought that.

  A car honking behind us broke our gaze, and we both looked ahead to see the light had turned green. Joshua pulled away, keeping his attention on the traffic. “So how do we prove that theory wrong? Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

  “Who do I tell?” he asked me. “I told you – they’re my friends: people who have worked on the force for years. Respected and decorated cops. I feel wrong for even contemplating that one of them could be the person who did it, much less that one of them could be capable of hindering an investigation like that. I would rather...” he trailed off.

  “See where the evidence leads before pointing fingers?” I finished quietly. Joshua nodded. “So how do we do that?”