by Anne Frasier
“Tremain was a clown,” Elise said. “Just a clown.” A clown who’d tricked her. A clown who’d tortured her, but in giving him a foolish identity, she was able to see him for what he was. A weakling. A psycho, who no longer had any power over her.
“I’ve always hated clowns,” David said.
“Me too.”
And maybe somewhere in her head her hatred of clowns got mixed up with her newly minted hatred of Jackson Sweet. Maybe somewhere in there she was able to make her father completely evil and completely bad, because that’s what she needed to do.
Before coming here today she’d felt herself succumbing to fear and paranoia. She’d felt the strong Elise receding into the background, to be replaced by someone she didn’t want to be. But sometimes the monster in the closet was really just a worthless clown in a coma.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” David said. He’d only come to humor her anyway, which was nice of him. “We went over it pretty thoroughly.”
“Did you look through every copy on the shelf?”
“Um, no.”
“Okay then.” She turned her back and pulled out another book, this one appearing to be homemade, with a leather cover.
She opened the book, and grew silent. Then, slowly and carefully, she turned one page after the other.
“Find something?” David asked. She hadn’t made a sound, but he must have picked up on her stillness.
“Yes.” She turned another page, and another. Illustrations. In ink. Ornate drawings. Some beautiful, some not so beautiful.
David came closer, looking over her shoulder. So close she could feel the heat from his body. “These are amazing,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes from the artwork in her hands.
“What is it?” he asked. “Some kind of sketchbook?”
“You could say that.” She opened the book to one particularly lovely page. A drawing of an angel. She turned it around so David could see. He frowned, still unsure of what he was looking at.
“Remember the victims with the squares on their arms and back? Skin that had been removed? I think we’ve found another piece that will help convict Tremain if he ever wakes up. This book.”
“Drawings? How will drawings help?”
“Not just drawings. A book of skin.”
David stared. And when he finally comprehended, he said, “My God.”
“He removed the tattoos from his victims. He cut them off and put them in this book.”
David did a bit of a double take. They’d both seen a lot, but this was something new. “We need to get this tagged as evidence.”
“And we—you—need to see if the victims’ family members can ID any of these tattoos.” She was betting on several matches.
David pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling the ME.” When John Casper answered, David asked if the newest victim had any patches of skin removed. Then he asked if the victim had any tattoos. He pocketed his phone and said, “Recent victim has tattoos, all still intact.”
Which meant the newest murder was most likely a copycat, and copycat killers were usually easier to catch.
“I still don’t get the book of skin,” David said.
Elise thought about Tremain’s obsessions. Her father, for one. Root work, for another. And Elise. She couldn’t deny that she was one of Tremain’s obsessions. And if not for that obsession, she’d be dead. Unlike his other victims, he’d been unable to kill her. But Tremain had another obsession. “He loves tattoos,” she said. She knew that very well.
CHAPTER 13
You aren’t endearing yourself to me by coming here and demanding to return to work.”
“Sorry,” Elise said, sitting across from Major Coretta Hoffman’s desk in an office located on the third floor of the Savannah PD. “But I feel strongly about this, and I think I can bring something to the mix that others can’t.”
“No doubt. But you could also bring too much emotional instability. And between you and Gould . . .” She shook her head. “He’s still on probation, isn’t he?”
David had a bad habit of breaking the rules. “It ended a month ago.”
Major Hoffman leaned forward, elbows on her desk, putting on her friend face. She had gorgeous dark skin, and Elise had often wondered about her heritage. Gullah?
She always wore the same red nail polish and the same perfume. If Elise were more of a girly girl, she’d probably know the name of the scent. Something flowery.
“Elise, are you ready to come back?”
Being careful not to annoy the major further, Elise said, “I couldn’t be more ready.”
“You’ll need to see Dr. Kicklighter. She’ll have to sign off on you before I can release your gun.”
Elise wanted to make sure Major Hoffman understood her motivation for returning early. “I want in on the Tremain case as well and the Organ Thief case. I don’t want to come back to find myself on desk duty. Plus, I should point out that I found important evidence at the Tremain house that everybody else overlooked. Evidence that links Tremain to the Organ Thief murders.”
“A house you weren’t supposed to even be at. You’re pushing me. Don’t push me. On top of that, I don’t know what to do about my detectives. The position of head detective has been vacant for almost two years. Why? Because I have nobody to put there.” She produced a bag of trail mix from a drawer, opened it, and offered the bag to Elise.
“No thanks.”
“Then really,” Major Hoffman continued, pouring trail mix into her palm, “it’s basically you or Gould, and neither of you seem ready. Before all of this Tremain stuff, I’d pretty much decided to offer it to you, but now is certainly not the time. And Gould. How can I even consider him? With his background? His unpredictability? An ex-wife on death row? And Detectives Avery and Mason are out of the question, plus I doubt either of them would want it. They’re clock-punchers. That leaves me to bring in someone from the outside, not anything I relish doing right now. So I’ll let it ride. Another few weeks, but then I have to make a decision.” She picked at the nuts and fruit in her hand, popping one at a time into her mouth. “Go ahead. Go talk to Dr. Kicklighter and we’ll take it from there. I’m not promising you anything until I see a thorough psych evaluation. Until she tells me you’re ready to be put back on the case.”
“Thank you.” Elise would make sure she was the sanest person in the room for that interview.
David was waiting for her in the hallway. “What’d she say?” he asked, keeping his arms crossed as he shouldered himself away from the wall.
“Have to see the shrink.”
“Welcome to my world.”
In fewer than twenty-four hours, Elise sat in Dr. Kicklighter’s office. Dr. Kicklighter had been with the department for a few years, but Elise hadn’t had any reason to visit her until now. David, on the other hand, was a regular. Mondays 4:00 to 5:00 p.m. He never talked about the sessions and Elise didn’t pry, but she’d always imagined David lying on a couch, feet crossed at the ankles, just blabbing about whatever he wanted. But it wasn’t like that. Dr. Kicklighter asked the questions. Very direct questions.
The doctor was one of those tall, gorgeous blonds who’d probably grown up in a wealthy, gated suburb. Georgia was full of women who looked like her. Elise had nothing against her type, but she knew it might take her longer to warm up to her. Unfair, but the truth.
There was no couch.
Elise was disappointed by that, but did anybody really lie down?
Dr. Kicklighter sat on the other side of a massive mahogany desk, an open file in front of her. “I want you to know that everything we talk about in this room is strictly confidential. No one inside or outside the department will hear what you decide to share. I’ll file a report, but it will just contain my evaluation with no direct reason for that evaluation.”
“I’m n
ot really concerned about that.”
“Just so you know.”
Dr. Kicklighter’s scallop-edged suit was red; her lips were red; her fingernails were red. Did she and Major Hoffman use the same nail color? It almost looked the same. Elise imagined the two of them having a girls’ night and sharing polish.
“I was looking at the report that was filed about your capture.” She turned pages, going back and forth. “It’s kind of vague.” Their initial conversation about the event had taken place in Elise’s hospital room, and the doctor had gone easy on her due to Elise’s injuries. But now that Elise was hoping to be reinstated, Kicklighter seemed prepared to get tough.
“There wasn’t a lot to say.”
The doctor moved papers around again, then looked at Elise. The desk between them was big enough to tap-dance on. Had David ever thought about that? She’d have to ask him.
“There’s a lot of speculation within the department. About what happened there. And we know that he killed his previous victims immediately.”
“If the killer is indeed Tremain,” Elise reminded her.
“Yes. But anyway, three days. There’s really nothing here about those three days.” She closed the file and clasped her hands together. “Like I said, nothing leaves this room.”
“There isn’t much to say. He kept me tied up. He loosened my restraints, and I was able to break free and knock him out. That’s it.”
“Were most of your injuries sustained that last day? When you took him down?”
“Not all.”
“How was he able to overpower you initially?”
“Taser.”
Was she looking a little impatient? “Think of this as a conversation,” Kicklighter said. “Your very reluctance to participate is indicative of a problem.”
Elise had stepped into the office with the intention of coming across as friendly and levelheaded. Where had that plan gone? Instead, she was struggling to keep her cool while remaining evasive. “No problem.”
“What happened those three days? How did you keep from being killed?”
“I’m used to dealing with criminals. I know how they think, which means I know how to talk them out of things. Things like killing me.”
“I’m sure you’re very good at your job. And your knowledge of the criminal mind probably did save your life.”
“Thanks.”
“But you were there three days. Did you fear for your life that entire time?”
She wouldn’t let go of the three days. “Yes.”
Kicklighter nodded. “Did you ever have to compromise who you were, your core values, in order to stay alive?”
“Do you mean did I have to do things to him, with him, to stay alive?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Let’s just say he did things to me, but I never reciprocated.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t feel the need to share that with you.” This had turned into an interrogation. Elise wanted to get up and walk out, but she managed to restrain herself.
Kicklighter gave her a long, thoughtful stare that was probably meant to intimidate. “Let me ask you this. Do you worry about Atticus Tremain waking up?”
“No.” Elise leaned back in her chair and returned Kicklighter’s stare. “I’d like for that to happen.”
Dr. Kicklighter jotted something down.
“You know what else?” Elise said. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about this. It doesn’t matter what Tremain did to me or didn’t do to me. None of that matters. What matters is that I get put back on the case. The reason? Because I’m the best chance the city has of catching the killer. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s not my job. I’m here to evaluate your mental state.”
“Do you have any kids, Dr. Kicklighter?”
“Two daughters.”
Elise felt a little guilty turning the tables on the doctor, but there was too much at stake here for her to sit back and take this nonsense. She didn’t like getting tough with a fellow PD employee, but she could do it if she had to.
“Wouldn’t you sleep better at night knowing the person or persons trolling our fair city for seemingly random victims, removing their organs, dumping their bodies in public and private places . . . Wouldn’t you sleep better knowing those people were behind bars and off the streets? It doesn’t matter if I fall apart. It doesn’t matter if I end up hiding in a closet chewing on my arm. What matters is catching this person. What matters is keeping your daughters safe, and my daughter safe.”
Elise got to her feet.
“The hour isn’t up.”
“I’ve said everything I need to say. And I’ve told you everything you need to know about me.” If they didn’t put her back on the case, she’d work it on her own. Her little rant had underscored what really mattered here. Not her job. Not making head detective. Not her sanity. None of that mattered. What mattered was catching a maniac who was killing innocent people.
An hour later Elise was riding in a pedicab, heading down Abercorn toward her house to check on the progress of the construction. She’d never taken a bike taxi in her life, mainly because she felt sorry for the person pedaling. Her driver, with her beautiful lavender hair, was most likely a Savannah College of Art and Design student who couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds. Elise felt like a lazy bum even though she was still using crutches.
Her cell phone rang. Major Hoffman.
Elise hit “Answer.” “Hello?”
“Congratulations,” Major Hoffman said. “You’ve been reinstated. You can clock in starting tomorrow.”
“On both cases?”
“Yes. I don’t know what you said to Dr. Kicklighter, but I’ve never had a psych evaluation hit my inbox so fast. She gave you high marks in all areas.”
Elise thanked her and disconnected, then she called David. “I’m back,” she told him as soon as he picked up.
“What?” She heard the disbelief in his voice. “I’ve been going to Kicklighter for over a year, and she still won’t remove some of the red flags from my file. How the hell did you swing that? Voodoo?”
“I put together a little don’t-call-me-crazy spell.”
“Maybe you can work one of those for me. So when will you be back?”
“Tomorrow.”
After a long pause that indicated deep thought from David’s end, he said in his serious voice, “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I’m sure. Oh, and you know I was kidding about the spell, right?”
“And you know I don’t believe in that stuff, right? Where are you? I hear traffic.”
“I’m heading to my house in a pedicab.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“I’ve always wanted to ride in one of those.”
“You should do it. It’s a little rough, but kind of pleasant.”
“So really, how’d you do it? How’d you get a good review from Kicklighter?”
The pedicab stopped in front of Elise’s house. “I had to play the bitch card. I feel kind of bad about that, but it had to be done.”
He laughed. She told him good-bye, then got out of the cab, wedged her crutches under her arms, and paid the driver, tipping what must have been more than the usual because the girl’s eyes got big and she smiled and stammered. So Elise asked her if she’d mind waiting to take her back to the police station.
“No problem.”
Elise’s house was a narrow yellow Victorian, three stories tall, with a courtyard and porches on all three levels. She’d purchased it years ago for not much money because it was in need of a ton of work and was located in a bad area of town. The area had improved until her house was the only one on the block that looked like hell. Her initial plan had been to restore the entire thing herself
, but she’d quickly lost interest once it was obvious Audrey hadn’t wanted to spend much time there. But that had changed, and now Elise was anxious to create a cozy and safe place for them both to live.
Inside, it didn’t look like the construction workers were making much progress, and there were only two people on site, one being the foreman.
“The asbestos removal is done,” he said, slapping his leather gloves together and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “But the house isn’t livable. No electricity, and the plumbing isn’t finished. Some walls are still stripped down to the studs. You had a lot of water damage from that leaking roof, and most of the drywall in the second-floor bedroom and the kitchen had to be replaced.”
She wanted to tell him that if it hadn’t taken him so long to get there the water damage wouldn’t have been so bad, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d probably used up her quota of blunt talk for the day. “When will it be livable? Can you give me a projected date?”
“Four weeks, maybe?”
“How about Thanksgiving? Because I’d really like to be home by Thanksgiving.” Audrey would be back, and Elise wanted her daughter to have a place to come home to.
“Thanksgiving?” He looked doubtful. “We’ll try.”
She wanted to tell him to try harder, but she figured that would just make him mad. Maybe cause him to suddenly find himself called to another site, another job. She could be pushy if the need arose, when it meant getting information out of a criminal or a victim, but she didn’t dare piss off the guys working on her house.
Her phone rang. It was a woman from the evidence lot, calling to tell Elise that her car was being released and was no longer evidence. All in all, a day of good mojo.
CHAPTER 14
It feels good to be back,” Elise said from the passenger side of the unmarked car as she and David left the police department parking lot for a day of fieldwork. It not only felt good to be back, it felt good to be independent once again. Shortly after the visit to her house, Elise had picked up her yellow Saab and driven to the plantation with only a slight amount of difficulty. A left-foot injury was better than a right. And today she’d driven to Savannah.
