Debra Webb - Depraved (Faces of Evil Book 10)

by Unknown

  Last night she and Dan had made love there…

  1st Avenue at 33rd Street, Sloss Furnaces, Birmingham, 11:55 a.m.

  The black Infiniti sedan that had appeared in Jess’s life far too frequently in the past few weeks sat in the parking area beneath First Avenue surrounded by crime scene tape. The air was still and thick. The drone of traffic overhead on First Avenue was as steady as the beating of Jess’s heart. Two BPD cruisers blocked the area, the uniformed officers keeping the scene secure and searching for a perp or any other victims. The crime scene van arrived at the same time as Jess and Dan. Lori had them standing by while Jess had a look.

  Quentin North—or what appeared to be all of him—sat behind the steering wheel in his black Infiniti. His arms and legs were stacked atop his torso in the seat. On top of the neatly arranged pile of body parts was his head. His sunglasses had been tucked into place. Wherever he had died, it hadn’t been in this car. Judging by the state of rigor, Jess estimated he’d been here at least seven or eight hours.

  Quentin North had been doing Spears’s bidding for weeks. Why kill him now? Had he completed his service to Eric Spears? Had Spears drugged him and then killed him or had North sat back and allowed him to have at it? Maybe another follower had taken care of the dirty work. Still, why now? Had North screwed up?

  Jess was leaning in that direction. Amanda had described the dark-haired man as the one who’d taken her to Spears. If her seeing that license plate had been unplanned, and clearly it was, North may have been the one to allow it to happen.

  Whatever the reason, Spears had used his death to pass along a message to Jess. Photos, printed at a local self-service photo shop, depicted Jess and Dan making love beneath the stars. In each one, Dan had been x’ed out with a red felt-tip marker. Blood, probably North’s, was smeared on the photos. Anger mounted inside Jess. She would not allow Spears to hurt Dan. He’d suffered far too much already.

  Jess took a breath and reminded herself to consider the situation objectively. As embarrassing as the photos were there was no way around permitting the techs to document them. It had to be done. Dammit.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this from Spears?”

  Jess looked from the victim to Lori and back. “No. This could mean he has a new follower taking care of business for him.”

  Or, it could mean that Eric Spears was coming undone.

  A clammy feeling seeping under her skin, Jess shook off the idea. Five long years the Bureau had tracked this killer. Dozens of victims had been attributed to his annual killing sprees. None had ever been hacked up like this. He could be trying to throw them off. More likely, he had a new follower leaving his own signature.

  “Maybe Spears was pissed,” Lori suggested, “about the Amanda thing. Maybe he lost it and went crazy.”

  “Losing this much power over the situation would be a tremendous blow to his ego.” Jess turned away from the gruesome scene. She reached into her bag and fished out her cell to see if she’d missed a message. She couldn’t help wondering why Spears hadn’t sent her a message about the photos. Why had he suddenly gone silent?

  “That new assistant coroner is en route,” Harper announced as he tucked his cell back into the holster at his belt.

  Jess looked forward to meeting her, but she missed Sylvia. She had come to trust Sylvia’s expertise and to count her as a member of their close-knit major crimes team. “You said her name is Toni?”

  “Toni James,” Harper confirmed.

  “Thank you, Sergeant. Let’s get a tech over here to document and bag these photos. No point in the new assistant coroner seeing my…” Jess blew out a disgusted breath. “Jesus, I really need to find time to workout.”

  Lori chuckled. “You look great, Chief.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Right. So, let’s see what Mr. North carried in his trunk.”

  “No dead bodies.” Lori walked to the back of the car with Jess. “Lots of spy equipment, ammo, and a mini pharmacy.”

  “Well, well.” Jess surveyed the parabolic listening device, high-powered binoculars, cameras, and lenses. Two Tasers, various ropes, and handcuffs, too. A tote contained hypodermics and a lot of what Jess suspected was Ketamine. “The man was certainly prepared.” Jess set her hands on her hips. “A man who travels this prepared wouldn’t leave home without his cell phone. Where’s his phone?”

  “Maybe Spears or whoever killed him took it,” Lori suggested as they moved back to the driver’s side window to view the pile of naked body parts once more. “I didn’t find it in the car and, unless it’s in a body cavity, he doesn’t have it on him.”

  “So North took the photos, went and had them processed, and then Spears or one of his followers chopped him up, all within the last twelve or so hours.”

  “If I could have a look, please,” a female voice announced, “I can provide an approximate time of death so you don’t have to guess.”

  Jess and Lori turned to the woman who’d spoken. The new assistant coroner wore practical shoes with no heels whatsoever, khaki slacks, and a blue blouse mostly hidden by a white lab coat. Medium length blond hair framed an attractive face, but there wasn’t a smile in sight.

  “I’m Deputy Chief Jess Harris,” Jess thrust out her hand, “and this is Detective Lori Wells.”

  “Doctor Toni James.” She gave Jess’s hand a quick pump. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” She acknowledged Lori with a nod.

  Jess decided the lady was from out west somewhere, Colorado maybe. “We’ll leave you to it then.” Jess mustered up a smile. “I will, however, need time of death as soon as possible. My investigation hinges on that piece of information. The sooner you can tell me, the sooner we can move forward.”

  “Then I should get busy.”

  Jess looked around for Dan. He and Hayes were helping BPD’s finest check out the site. There were a hell of a lot of places to hide in there and Dan knew them all. Jess doubted there were any other victims, but the steps had to be taken. She and Lori moved toward the entrance of the industrial site.

  “She must be new in town,” Lori said with a glance back at the ME.

  “Definitely,” Jess agreed, “or she would know I like time of death first.” Why was it ME’s insisted on going through their steps before giving her the one thing she needed first? It wasn’t like the probable cause of death wasn’t glaringly obvious.

  “Chief Harris!”

  Jess turned back just in time to see the ME stagger back from the open car door. Jess hurried to the car, somehow managing to keep up with Lori’s swift strides.

  “There’s something in his mouth,” James advised, “and it’s moving.”

  North’s head had fallen over. Jess watched as something wiggled past the victim’s lips and scurried away.

  “What the hell?” Lori muttered. “Was that a…?”

  “Rat,” Jess confirmed. Spears’s message was loud and clear. He knew his follower had made the misstep that had ratted him out.

  9

  Old Leeds Lane, Mountain Brook, 1:00 p.m.

  Eric waited in the car he had acquired for carrying out the ingenious move that had come to him upon waking this morning. He’d taken a room at the finest hotel in Birmingham, and he’d tipped a bellman an enormous sum to do a little shopping for him. The choice in accommodations had been a brilliant strategy. His face was plastered all over local television broadcasts as well as the papers, yet no one expected a cold-blooded serial killer to walk into the only five-star hotel in town. A rental service had delivered a Lexus right to the hotel. The Mercedes he had stored on the street behind the Argyle house would eventually be found abandoned in the parking lot of the Galleria mall.

  He checked his reflection in the mirror and smiled. “When a door closes, look for an open window.”

  Gant and his legion of idiots would never in their lifetimes uncover all his assets. As he’d driven away from the hotel he’d toyed with the idea of leaving now and returning to his home in Bangkok. Not yet. His fing
ers tightened on the steering wheel. He would finish this. By the time he took his leave this city would never forget his name. This sweltering, murderous summer would be forever emblazoned on its history.

  He’d been forced to rethink his strategy, but his goal remained the same. This was the first step toward that end. It had been a great while since he’d carried out such menial tasks personally. He’d grown rather selective over the years. Nonetheless, the ability to adapt was quite priceless at a time like this.

  The game had changed, yes, but the objectives had not. Jess’s turn would come. First however, he wanted to ensure Burnett suffered, excruciatingly so. He wanted the man to rue the day he was born. Originally, he’d intended to merely kill Burnett, but then he’d realized that spending the rest of his life in agony was by far the more fitting punishment. Eric wondered why he hadn’t done this already. The simplistic beauty of the move was one of unreserved brilliance.

  Burnett had shattered Eric’s meticulous plans. He had charged into the house Eric had so carefully prepared and taken everything… well, almost everything. Whatever else happened he still had one shocking move to make. He wished he could be there to see the look on Burnett’s face. By the end of this day, Burnett would be asking himself how things could possibly get any worse. If only he knew.

  Relishing the anticipation, Eric checked the street again before emerging from the car. He strolled to the other side and up the sidewalk, admiring the landscape as he approached the door. At the last possible moment, he changed course and headed to the rear of the house. Rusty or not, the hunt was much like the kill itself—one never forgot the rhythm.

  He paused at a window near the kitchen entrance. Daniel Burnett, Senior, sat in a chair at the table. As Eric watched, he bent down and tied the laces of first one shoe and then the other. Golfing shoes. Mr. Burnett had an afternoon on the green planned, did he? It was such a shame he wouldn’t be able to make it. A good game of golf was cathartic.

  Eric reached for the door. He smiled as the knob turned without resistance. These southerners were such trusting souls. He was in the kitchen and standing next to the older man before he could do more than rise from his chair.

  Eric plunged the needle into his neck. “Hello, Mr. Burnett.”

  The man staggered back, knocking over his chair and causing the table to shake, rattling the cup and saucer there.

  “Now, now, let’s not break anything. I’m certain the little missus would be quite upset.” Eric selected a couple of nicely sharpened knives from a drawer, and then he took the old man by the arm and ushered him into the hallway. “Let’s get you to bed, Mr. Burnett.”

  By the time they reached the master bedroom Burnett could hardly stand. Eric propped him on the end of the bed and began removing his clothes. A man should leave the world the same way he came into it.

  Burnett struggled to cry out or to speak, but he couldn’t quite vocalize the sounds.

  “It’s the drug,” Eric assured him. “Speech is difficult at this dosage.” Eric surveyed the failing muscle tone and sagging skin. “Ah, the devastating effects of time.” He pulled the old man into a supine position on the bed. “While we play shall I tell you about my plans for your son?”

  Those faded blue eyes rounded with terror as if he’d only just realized the identity of his unexpected visitor.

  “That’s right, Mr. Burnett. My name is Eric Spears and I’m here to take your life, but first, I’ll share with you what I have in store for Dan.” The notion of dissecting the father had Eric fully aroused. This was the first time in more than a decade he’d made a spur of the moment kill.

  Eric tugged gloves firmly into place and chose his instrument. A nice, razor sharp paring knife. A minute insertion exactly positioned between the nipples and crimson appeared. The first bloom of blood was always the most exciting. Burnett whimpered and cried like a child. Eric slid the tip of the blade from breastbone to navel, opening only a few layers of flesh. The rush of blood made him even harder.

  “I’m going to disembowel your son first,” Eric explained. “I assure you he will feel every sweep of the scalpel. Then, I’ll move on to his genitals. He won’t need them, after all. Then, if he’s very lucky, help will arrive before it’s too late. He’ll spend the rest of his life dumping his own waste from a plastic bag.”

  The old man’s body shuddered and shook as if he were having a seizure. Eric leaned close to make sure he heard the rest. “After that, I’m going to have Jess all to myself. That little grandchild of yours budding inside her will die with her.”

  Burnett’s body stiffened.

  Eric reared back. “Now, now, we can’t have that.”

  The choking and gasping came next. The man was having a cardiac episode. Eric pounded a fist into his flailing chest. “I am not finished with you!”

  Burnett’s body shuddered again before going still.

  Eric roared like a wounded animal with the rage gushing through him. He stormed across the room, turned, and retraced his steps. “What now? What now?”

  He stalled, stretched his neck to relieve the tension, and then adjusted the lapels of his silk jacket. “Very well. Have it your way.”

  Eric strode back to the bed and placed his gloved hand on the man’s unnaturally still chest. He counted down to just the right set of ribs above the heart. He selected the long-bladed knife, poised it, and prepared to drive it into the failing organ.

  Raised voices and laughter jerked his head up.

  Outside. Close. Females.

  Eric walked to the nearest window and checked the street. He counted five cars parked in front of the house and five… six… seven women headed toward the front door.

  More of that blinding wrath swept through him. He glanced back at the dying man and clenched his fists in fury.

  This was unacceptable.

  His options limited, Eric slipped out the back door as the horde of bitches flooded in through the front. When he’d settled behind the wheel of the car, he powered down the window and started the engine.

  Screams filled the air as he drove away.

  10

  Raleigh Avenue, Homewood, 2:15 p.m.

  Dolly North Beecham’s hands trembled before she could clasp them together and halt the outward indicator of just how nervous she was.

  “Ms. Beecham, you are not in any sort of trouble,” Jess assured her. “We simply need to ask you a few questions about your brother, Quentin.”

  Beecham heaved a big breath. “I knew he was up to something. He quit work about two months ago and bought a new car. I worried he’d gotten involved with drugs again.”

  Interesting. “Quentin had no criminal record. In what way was he involved with drugs? Did he have an addiction?”

  The woman shook her head. “He never used drugs at all. Not even back in high school. A few years ago, when the office where he worked closed, he turned to selling drugs to survive. His wife left him. His whole life went to hell. Even after all that he managed to get back on his feet and seemed to be doing fine.”

  Jess didn’t miss the underlying doubt in her voice. “But you weren’t so sure everything was fine.”

  “I know my brother. Whenever things appear too good to be true they usually are. Deep down, he was a good guy. Or he used to be.”

  Jess wasn’t so sure Beecham knew her brother as well as she thought. “What changed?”

  “Everything.” She shrugged. “Maybe nothing really. No matter how hard he worked his life always fell apart. He never had any decent luck with women. They were always cruel to him, but to hear them tell it he was the bully. If he bought a car it turned out to be a lemon. His coworkers always picked on him. He was bullied as a kid in school. It was the story of his life. If it wasn’t for bad luck, he wouldn’t have had any at all.” She scrubbed at her damp eyes with her fists. “I was the only person who ever really consistently cared about him.”

  “What about your parents?”

  Beecham harrumphed. “The old man bea
t Quentin every chance he got. Momma died when we were little kids. Life was not easy for either of us.”

  “Had you noticed anything different about Quentin since he bought his new car? Had he mentioned anyone new in his life?”

  “The only thing he said to me was that I should be very proud of him. He had a new job, though he wouldn’t say where and what kind, and he insisted that everyone was going to find out just how important he was. He claimed he had a lot of new friends and that he was going to be a big star.”

  Jess sat up a little straighter. “Do you remember the names of any of his new friends?”

  Beecham shook her head. “He never mentioned their names.”

  Lori stepped into the living room and took a seat on the sofa next to Jess. She gave a small shake of her head. Beecham had given authorization for Lori to have a look in the garage since North had gone in there a couple of times when he’d visited over the past month.

  “Mrs. Beecham, if you think of anything else please call me.” Jess extended a card across the coffee table. “Day or night.”

  Beecham studied the card, a frown lining her brow. “You know, he didn’t mention any names, but he did text me photos of him and some of his new friends.” She managed a halfhearted smile. “Mostly women. I guess he figured out how to be a bit of a Casanova after all. He always said he wanted to be one of those guys women would do anything for. Some of ‘em look pretty desperate to me, if you know what I mean.”

  Jess’s pulse rate sped up. “May I see the photos?”

  “Sure.” Beecham reached for the cell phone on the table next to her chair, and then stood. “I swear, if it wasn’t for texting I probably wouldn’t have heard a word from him except when he wanted to get in the garage. People don’t have real conversations anymore. I guess his new job was keeping him busy.”