by Jaden Skye
“Tina lived and worked a few blocks from here,” Hunter commented. “From the amount of blood found with the body it seems this is definitely the place where she was killed.”
Tracy had a stronger sense of Tina’s death than she had of Shannon’s. She slowly walked deep into the corner Tina had been stuffed in and bent down, wanting to experience what Tina had gone through. Crouching there in the darkness, Tracy felt like an animal who’d been suddenly cornered, without even the time to call out for help.
“Did she die quickly?” Tracy murmured. “Did she even know what hit her?”
“Autopsy said the death was immediate,” Clay responded. “The killer slashed her throat, got the jugular, and the rest went fast. The mutilation was done postmortem.”
Tracy winced, imagining it all. “No, that’s not what happened,” she finally said. “I believe Tina knew what hit her. It took her time to bleed out. She also knew the guy who killed her, or else it would never have happened.”
“Could be he brought her here for quick sex,” Clay suggested.
“Sounds reasonable,” Hunter remarked, “even though sex never happened. And, like Shannon, there were no defensive wounds on the body or any signs that Tina put up a fight.”
It was the joy of pure torture, thought Tracy. He got off on seeing the terror in the victim’s eyes while he kept her and then killed her. Suddenly Tracy’s eye caught the edge of a little object on the ground. It stuck out under a crack at the bottom of the back wall.
“What’s this?” Tracy asked, taken aback.
Hunter stepped closer to take a look. “Just an old piece of wood, nothing much.”
“No, it’s something.” Tracy was sure of it.
She turned towards the sliver of wood which was tightly embedded under the wall and pulled gently, so as not to break it. It stayed where it was.
“Pull harder,” said Clay as he came closer.
Tracy pulled harder, and in a moment a little wooden crucifix, drenched from the rain and crusted with dirt, slipped out into her hands. This was the last thing she ever expected.
They all looked at it, startled.
“Let’s bring it in for fingerprinting and a general workup,” Tracy suggested.
Hunter looked doubtful. “It’s been two weeks since Tina was found. Lots of people have inspected the alley. This could belong to anyone,” he said.
Tracy cradled the strange little crucifix. “No, it belonged to Tina,” she said. “This is the wall she was stuffed against. It must have fallen out of her pocket when he pinned her down. It got stuck under the wall and nobody saw it. Finally, the rain dislodged a little piece it. Did Tina carry a crucifix with her? That’s important it’s amazing.”
Hunter bit his lip. Tracy knew he thought she went off on a tangent from time to time and this could be one of them.
“It’s not a bad idea to check it,” Clay intervened on Tracy’s behalf.
“Okay, we’ll examine it,” Hunter acquiesced. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“More information about Tina, and maybe someone else’s fingerprints or DNA?”
Hunter looked at the crucifix skeptically. “I’d say it’s a long shot.”
“Long shot or close shot, we need any shot that comes our way. Don’t we?” Tracy reminded him.
*
The clouds of the day turned into rain as they walked back to the car and drove to a diner for sandwiches and soup. It was good being indoors and a bowl of warm soup would hit the spot right now.
The waiter came and Hunter ordered for them all. “After this, we’ll go talk to Tina’s pimp, Salty. I know it’s turning into a long day but we can’t waste any time,” Clay said as he looked at Tina. “It’s great having you here with us.”
“Thank you,” said Tracy, “it’s great being here with you, too.” She appreciated the fact that Hunter and Clay had taken time to accompany her on the rounds today. It was good for them too, though. They got a chance to see things through her eyes. And there was no way Tracy could start on her profile without being in the actual places the women had been found and talking to people who knew them. A sudden glance, an offhand remark, a tiny object left unnoticed could lead straight to the killer. Tracy had experienced it many times.
The waiter brought the soups and sandwiches quickly and they all ate in relative silence.
After he finished eating, Hunter looked up at Tracy. “Knowing you, you’ll enjoy talking to Salty,” he said.
Tina looked at him curious. “Knowing me?”
Hunter suddenly flashed his wonderful grin. “You like people who live on the fringe, and they like you, Tracy. You do well with them. I’ve noticed it both times we’ve worked together.”
Tracy was taken aback by Hunter’s beautiful smile. She wasn’t sure if his remark was a compliment or not. “Who did I talk to who’s on the fringe? I just got Agnes to say what she really thought.”
“I wasn’t thinking of the people’s at Shannon’s,” Hunter responded. “I was just thinking that I feel better with you around when we go to the fringes. You get the people there. They get you. It’s interesting. I’ve wondered how come you’re so comfortable around them.”
Tracy was silenced. What Hunter said was true. She didn’t know why it was, however. She’d lived most of her life in the mainstream, studying at good schools and working in prestigious places. She even had a boyfriend who was about as mainstream as you could get.
“Maybe so.” Tracy smiled. “But that’s not how I live my life.”
Clay smiled at her comment. “Hunter didn’t mean that you’re a fringe type,” he corrected. “There’s just a part of you that’s a real maverick, Tracy. It’s good. It’s helpful. We value it.”
Tracy took the compliment as it was offered, although it made her uneasy. It made her think about Wess for a moment, too. Was that part of the trouble between them? Did he sense an edgy side to her that didn’t match his lifestyle?
“Well, one thing I’m not is a wilting lily,” Tracy commented. “All kinds of people fascinate me.”
Hunter paid for the dinner quickly and they all piled back into the car. The rain had gotten stronger and they huddled together a moment as the car drove further down into Tina’s neighborhood,—where Salty, the pimp was waiting for them.
Chapter 9
When Tad finished work he had plenty of time on his hands. After buying a few fresh flowers, he’d walk home every night and then first thing he’d do was check the news. Tad didn’t have anyone to give the flowers to, so he’d put them in a blue vase that was chipped at the edges after so many years of use. In fact, his whole life long Tad had only had one girlfriend, and that didn’t turn out well. It wasn’t because he wasn’t attractive though.. He wasn’t bad looking for a guy in his late forties. He had wavy, messy brown hair, nice blue eyes, and thin lips that grew drier as the years went by. Otherwise, he was tall and strong, with a solid, square frame.
When people asked Tad if he’d like them to introduce him to a woman, he’d always say thank you, but no. There were too many things he had to do with his time that were more important. He didn’t want to spend night after night after work trying to please someone who could never be pleased. When he met someone, he wanted it to happen on its own. He wanted it to be destiny calling. So, the first thing he did after putting his flowers into the blue vase was to flip on the TV and turn to the news.
These days the TV and papers were filled with stories about that killer on the loose. They always had to find something to suck you in, didn’t they? Why not focus on something worthwhile, like the people at the homeless shelter he lived in before he got his job? Why not write about how badly they needed housing? There were kids who lived there, too. That was the real crime. This killer was just a freak that probably wandered into town from nowhere and needed to get some steam off his chest.. He needed someone to notice him and the papers were obliging.
Even though it pissed Tad off that the guy got so much attention,
still he enjoyed reading about the killer’s antics. The more he read, the sicker he got, though. Boy, was this fella out of his mind. Why in hell would be grab two women, kill them, and leave them both to be found in broad daylight? Tad shuddered. The world was slowly going to hell and he was watching it happen. If he ever met the killer, he’d give him a good shaking. He’d say, Wake up, buddy! There are more important things to do with your time.
The cops weren’t doing so well finding him either. They never did, did they? All that money spent to pay the cops wasted. Better to give it to kids at the homeless shelters. Tad kept reading anyway. The papers said they’d brought someone in from New York to help with the case. A woman, no less. That was stupid. What could a woman add to a case like this? She’d only make the killer more angry, make him want to get her too. And of course, he could do it in a second. From the looks of it in the paper, this killer was playing the cops for fools. He could do anything he set his mind to. Tad chortled, curious to see how it would all go. He wondered if he should write a letter to the editor about it, let them know what was on his mind. Seemed like the police could sure use some guidance.
After he finished reading, Tad crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor near the small cot he slept on. He didn’t feel right having a nice, soft bed, when so many in the shelters slept on cots just like this, the one he was sleeping on.
Tad looked down at the crumpled newspaper. He didn’t know why he even bothered wasting his time, reading rubbish like that. He knew he should be sitting here reading the bible instead, like his mom always did before she died. Tad remembered watching her turn the pages slowly, mouthing the words as she read. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
But no matter how much she read that, it didn’t keep her alive anyway, did it? And besides, if the Lord was her shepherd, it meant his mom was a sheep. But she wasn’t a sheep, she was a tiger. She mauled people and hurt them. How could she explain that?
Of course he never said anything like that to her. He just promised her that after she was gone he’d be a good boy and read the bible like she did each day. In fact, there was a bible lying here right now on the floor right next to Tad’s cot. He seldom picked it up though. It just lay there reminding him of the promise to his mother that he never would keep.
Chapter 10
Salty was waiting in a small, ramshackle house behind a deli on a winding street. He knew they were coming and was ready to talk. In fact, he told the police he was happy the FBI were on their way over. Tina had been one of his favorites and Salty wasn’t taking the situation lying down.
As soon as they got to his house, Hunter walked quickly to the door and rang the bell. A big, heavy guy, with tattoos on his arm, a shaved head, and small red printed scarf tied around his throat opened up. He and Hunter looked at each other.
“Come right in,” Salty grunted, stepping to the side.
Hunter, Tracy, and Clay walked into a low, narrow living room filled with half-broken furniture. The rug had stains on it and narrow, ripped blinds covered the windows. The room smelled of stale beer and cigarettes and had obviously seen better days.
Tracy took a deep breath and held her head high, as if there were no other place she’d rather be. Guys like Salty were sensitive to people’s reactions and she didn’t want him to feel that his place didn’t cut the mustard..
“Thanks for having us here.” Tracy was the first one to speak. This was obviously Salty’s home. Had Tina lived here with him? If so, there were no signs of it. Had he gotten rid of her belongings to save himself?
As Hunter predicted, Salty was at ease with Tracy, giving her a surprising smile.
“Sit down,” he offered, as if they were old friends. “We got a lot to talk about. Nice to see you.”
Grateful, Tracy took a seat and Hunter and Clay followed suit.
“Okay, so everything we say here is off the record, right?” Salty had to be certain.
“Absolutely,” said Tracy. “Good,” Salty replied. “The police already talked to plenty of people in Tina’s life and nothing’s come of it.” He shrugged sadly. “Girls down here die and it’s not such a big deal. But it’s different since the second dame turned up dead. Now everyone’s running scared.”
“Let’s go over it all from the beginning,” Hunter suggested. “Maybe we can pick up something they missed.”
“Sure thing.” Salty licked his lips. “What do you want to know? Tina used to be a dancer, and now she had customers.” He looked at them slyly. “She went twice a week to recovery meetings for drugs. She was doing good.”
“Heroine?” asked Tracy.
“Yeah.” Salty didn’t seem to want to get into particulars. “The police interviewed the other dancers, some of her regulars, and even a few of the girls here. They also talked to people at the meetings she attended. Everyone they spoke to had only good things to say. No one had a thing against her. No one!”
“Did they speak to the drug dealers?” asked Tracy.
Salty’s eyes narrowed. “I heard they did,” he said.
Tracy noticed that Salty said nothing about him being Tina’s pimp. That was still staying off the record, she assumed.
“You were close to Tina, Salty?” Tracy asked him then.
Salty stopped cold. “She was my girl,” he spoke intensely.
“Who killed her?” Hunter barged in.
Salty’s eyes grew thin and slippery. “You think if I knew who killed my girl the guy would still be alive today?” Some spittle dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. “There’s honor on these streets, believe it or not.”
“I believe it,” Clay chimed in.
“Could it have been one of her customers?” Tracy wanted to move deeper into Tina’s life.
“Nah, not a chance.” Salty shook his head vigorously. “I know her johns inside out. You think just anyone can come along, hang out here, and then get rid of one of our girls? It doesn’t work like that, and they know it.”
“How about a casual encounter she had late at night?” asked Hunter. “Someone she just happened to pick up?”
“No such thing as a casual encounter here.” Salty’s face turned sour. “Tina didn’t work the streets. I knew everyone she had contact with.” Salty slammed his foot on the floor. “Everyone who booked her got my okay first. They also knew that if they started up with her, they started up with me!”
Tracy was struck by Salty’s pride. He obviously saw himself as Tina’s protector. Tracy wondered how many girls he had in his stable, but didn’t want to ask right now. Things were going smoothly between them and she wanted to keep it that way.
“How do you know Tina didn’t work the streets behind your back?” Clay asked, trying to goad him into saying more.
Salty rubbed his bald head. “Tina never did anything behind my back,” he repeated. “She was a good girl. The best. Once I find out who this guy is, he’s last night’s newspaper.”
“Unless we find him first,” Hunter inserted, uncomfortable.
“We need to work together on this, Salty!” Tracy was emphatic. She didn’t want Salty doing the job on his own. “He didn’t just kill Tina, there’s another victim now.”
“I heard that,” Salty mumbled, looking at Tracy appreciatively. “But that’s a different lady in a different place. If you ask me, there definitely could be more than one killer on the loose.”
Hunter nodded in agreement. “Possible, for sure.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tracy interrupted. “There’s a connection between the killings.”
“Like what?” Salty looked confounded.
“Tell me more and I’ll let you know,” said Tracy. “Who was the last to see Tina alive?”
“I’ve been asked that question at last ten times by now,” Salty grumbled. “I don’t know. It had to be one of her johns. It wasn’t until the morning that we realized she was gone.”
“Which john? You know who she was seeing that day?” Tracy insisted.
&nbs
p; “I don’t have her exact schedule,” Salty grumbled. “I don’t know which was her last. If I knew who it was he’d be dead by now.”
“Did you give the police a list of her customers?” Hunter looked disdainful.
Salty dropped his head. “I did. I had to. I know who she usually saw that night. The cops spoke to them. Each guy had an alibi.”
“Who would want Tina dead, Salty, who?” Clay joined in.
Salty looked at Clay with painful eyes. “If I only knew that.”
Tracy thought about the crucifix she’d found in the alleyway. If it didn’t belong to Tina, who did it belong to? Who else might have dropped it there?
“I’m wondering if the killer could be someone from Tina’s neighborhood?” Tracy took a new track. “I hear she was still in touch with people back home.”
“Ridiculous,” Salty said quickly, but then stopped to wonder if Tracy might have something there. “Tina stayed in touch with a couple of high school friends and her brother Kirk,” he added. “No one else would have anything to do with her at all. Except for Kirk, she was as good as dead to her family. Sometimes she’d go home for some stupid occasion or other, even though I told her not to.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it, going home?” Tracy piped up.
“Yeah, it is,” Salty conceded. “But in the long run, I didn’t see any harm in it.”
“What kind of occasions did she go home for?” Hunter asked, interested.
“She went back for a graduation once, then a baby shower.” Salty tossed it off lightly. “She also went back when the baby was born. When she returned she was always glad to see me. I saw it in her face.”
“Why?” asked Tracy, deeply fascinated. “Didn’t she want a better life for herself?”
“”She had a good life here.” Salty’s voice grew gravelly. “Tina loved me. That made her life here very good.”
“Loved you?” The disdain Hunter was feeling intensified all over his face.
“Yeah, she loved me.” Salty turned to Hunter and flushed. ”there’s all kinds of love in this world, dude. People like you don’t know what that means, but people like us, we understand.”
