by M. Z. Kelly
As Leo and I walked to our cars at the end of the exhausting day, I said, “I’m feeling pretty frustrated. Where do we go from here?”
Leo stopped and met my eyes. His usual smile was gone. “Don’t know, but we better come up with something quick. I’ve got a feeling the Reaper’s going to strike again and soon.”
“I think I’ll try Joe Dawson again tonight. Maybe he’s come up with something. See you in the morning.”
I went home, where I showered and tried on three outfits for my date with Noah. I finally settled on my best silk blouse, a pair of skinny jeans, and my favorite pair of Michael Kors strappy sandals. I then went next door to leave Bernie with my friends for the evening. I cringed when Natalie opened the door and I saw that Nana was standing behind her.
“I heard you’ve got man problems again,” Nana said. “You might wanna watch my new TV show, Bedtime Stories.”
Nana had recently convinced the producers of Hollywood Girlz to let her do a cable TV talk show, interviewing celebrities about their sex lives. I’d seen a clip of the over-the-top show and Nana held nothing back during her interviews.
“Our issues have nothing to do with sex,” I said. “We’re just trying to sort out some personal things.”
Nana’s gray eyes did a full orbit. She then looked at my friends. “Maybe she’s frigid.”
Mo levelled one eye on me. “I think Kate’s got a shitload of trouble in her life, but being frigid ain’t one of ‘em.”
I appreciated what she’d said, but then realized it wasn’t entirely complimentary.
Natalie then added, “I think men just find Kate preoccupied.”
“Preoccupied,” I said. “What does that mean?”
“Unable to achieve an orgasm,” Nana said, answering for her. “I could book you a spot on my show and discuss your issues.”
“I’d sooner shoot myself.” I handed Bernie’s leash to Natalie. “I should be home by ten.”
“This proves my point,” Nana said. “You’re seeing Noah, but you’re coming home tonight.” She shook her head and looked at my friends. “She’s got some serious sex hang-ups.” She met my eyes again. “You probably need years of therapy, or maybe just a good vibrator.”
“Now you’re talkin’,” Natalie said. She looked at me. “Why don’t we do a little shoppin’ tomorrow?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to catch a killer,” I said, heading for the door. “No time for vibrators.”
I closed the door as I heard Nana saying to Natalie, “I’ll go with you. We can buy Kate a Mr. Kong.”
I had no idea what a Mr. Kong was and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Instead, as I drove to the restaurant, I wrestled with what I would say to Noah. I realized that my feelings for him hadn’t changed, but I again wondered if we’d taken things too fast. I decided that I needed to level with him regarding how I felt.
Musso and Frank’s was a legendary restaurant that I’d read somewhere was nearly a hundred years old. There were stories about the eatery’s back room, with a private entrance, that was reserved for the stars of old Hollywood. While, as far as I knew, the back room no longer existed, the restaurant still had great food and was said to be a favorite amongst the celebrities of today.
I met Noah in front of the restaurant. He was wearing a dark sports coat and Levi’s. He looked and smelled divine. We exchanged kisses and then went inside, asking for a table that was in a quieter section of the restaurant. We then ordered martinis and made casual conversation.
“I saw you on TV last night,” Noah said, referencing the burning body that was all over the Internet and was being covered by the national media.
“I’ve been a reluctant star, not to mention one that’s exhausted. I didn’t get any sleep last night.”
“Are you getting any closer to solving the case?”
The waiter came over with our drinks. After he was gone, I said, “Not really. It’s pretty…” I took a sip of my martini before going on, “…frustrating.”
There was a lengthy silence, before he said, “I’m sorry.”
I smiled. “It’s not your fault…unless you’re the Reaper.”
He chuckled. “Not my style.” He lifted his own glass, set it down, then said, “What I was trying to say was that I’m sorry about the way I reacted the other night. I was…” He ran a hand over his cheek. “Let me just lay my cards on the table.” He met my eyes. “I love you, Kate. And your job and your…your need to find whoever’s responsible for the death of the man who raised you…it worries me.”
I took a breath and tried to choose my words carefully. “My job is always going to be dangerous.”
“I know…but…”
“Let me finish, please.” He nodded. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, then went on. “I can’t change who I am, Noah. I can’t just walk away, either from my job or what happened in the past. Both of those circumstances define who I am.”
“I understand.” He reached over and took my hand. “I just…I guess I need time to adjust to everything.”
The waiter came over and we put in our orders. After he left, I said, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…about us. I think maybe we moved too fast.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“We didn’t move too fast.” He took a breath and his gaze moved off for a moment before finding me again. “I need to tell you something. I should have told you about it before we began dating. Maybe it will explain a few things about me.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “I’m listening.”
“I was involved with someone before I lost my leg. Actually, we were engaged.”
I held my gaze on his eyes, my anger surfacing. “And you didn’t think that was something important enough to tell me about before?”
He sighed. “I…it’s complicated.”
“Really? Just how complicated is it?”
“After the…after I was injured, Susan visited me in the hospital a couple of times. At first, she acted like nothing had changed between us. But, in time, I knew there was something different about the way she reacted to me. She eventually broke off the engagement and I spiraled into a deep depression. It took me months to pull myself back together.”
“I still don’t know why you never bothered to mention this.” My voice pitched higher. “And, to tell you the truth, it feels like a betrayal.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that…what happened deeply affected me. I guess you could say I was heartbroken and didn’t know how to tell you about my feelings.” He lowered his voice. “In a lot of ways, we’re alike, Kate. I’ve also suffered some deep losses in my life.”
I took a moment before I responded. I wanted to be sure he understood what I had to say, so I spoke evenly, trying to push down my anger. “When we first got together, Noah, I told you everything. I told you about my failed marriage, my relationship problems, how loss has deeply impacted my life. Now I need to tell you something else. I deserve more than this from you. I’m deeply hurt and unsure about continuing our relationship.” I stood up, realizing my emotions were on overload. “I think I need to leave.”
Noah also stood and came over to me. “Please, Kate, let’s eat and then we can talk. I’ll make everything up to you.”
I shook my head. “I just lost my appetite. Maybe we can talk in a few days. I need time to sort through my feelings.”
***
I nearly ran off the road on my way home from Musso and Frank’s, thanks to both exhaustion and a waterfall of tears that were streaming down my face. I now had doubts about the way I’d handled everything. I realized that Noah had been right—about some things. He’d suffered deep losses in his own life, just like me. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to be severely injured in the war and then lose someone he loved.
Then I had another thought: was the real reason he hadn’t told me about having been engaged because he was still in love with his former fiancée? I knew that it would have
been years since his failed engagement, but I also knew that sometimes love has strings that emotionally tether us to other people, even when they are no longer a part of our lives.
By the time I got home, I’d managed to regain some control, until I went next door, realized Nana was gone, and then tearfully unburdened myself to my friends.
“I think I handled everything wrong,” I said as I broke down again. I then went on, in fits of starts and stops, giving them the details about everything that happened.
After listening to my story, Mo said, “Maybe you weren’t as sensitive as you coulda been, but Noah should have told you about the old girlfriend. And, it sounds like what happened between them is still affecting his life.”
Natalie had another take on things. “I think you need to forget the bloke and go shopping with Nana and me tomorrow. A Mr. Kong will put a smile on your face, not to mention your vagina.”
Despite my depression, I couldn’t help but laugh at what she’d said. “Thanks, but I think I need more than a smiling vagina.”
“Maybe you need a vacation,” Mo suggested. “Once you catch that Reaper asshole, we could all get away, maybe take us a little road trip.”
Natalie was all in. “I’ve always wanted to get me some pink climbing gear and shimmy up that little rock they got in Yosemite.”
I stood up and yawned. “I don’t know about climbing Half Dome, but maybe I’ll think about a vacation. Right now, I’m going to try to get some sleep and forget about the world for a few hours.”
“Just don’t forget ‘bout Nana’s party,” Natalie said, following me to the door. “It’s gonna be bloody great, with Carly losin’ her head on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“And,” Mo said, “don’t forget, we also got us a rehearsal comin’ up for the Judge Rita show.”
“We’re gonna give Krump some tips on how to be a barrister,” Natalie said. “I’m gonna get the bloke a powdered wig.”
Despite my awful night and my exhaustion, I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Hermes Krump in a wig.
“I have a feeling that, whether we end up on the streets or not,” I said, “our attorney’s performance is going to be unforgettable.”
THIRTY
Ellen Moore was frantic with worry by the time she made the drive home from Los Angeles. She’d spent the morning explaining to the Halgen staff that she’d made the decision to remove Quinton Macy from the clinical trials and had arranged for him to be transported back to the state hospital because he’d become uncooperative. The clinical supervisor for Halgen had been called in, telling Ellen that she had no right to unilaterally make that decision and the matter would be reported to her superiors.
None of that mattered to Ellen. All she cared about was the safety of her children. Both her patient and Joshua Brown were deeply disturbed. She had no idea what they had in mind, but protecting Eric and Jennifer was her highest priority.
“Where are the kids?” Ellen demanded when she got home and came through the door.
Brian came over to her. “What’s going on?”
Her voice became frantic. “The children. Where are they?”
“They’re with your parents.”
Ellen released a breath and collapsed onto the sofa in the family room. She looked up, now seeing that Brian was watching television, apparently unconcerned by her distress.
“It looks like some bad shit that went down in LA,” he said. “I think you got out of there just in time.”
Ellen tamped down her anger for a moment and watched the news program. The reporter was saying that another victim had been found, burned alive in the hills above the city. A sudden wave of hysteria hit her.
“Do they have any idea who did this?” she asked Brian.
“Just some psycho. They think it was some kind of crazy funeral ritual.” He laughed. “It sounds like one of those nuts you work with.”
Despite her best efforts, Ellen couldn’t dismiss the possibility that her patient had been involved. Quinton Macy’s prior conviction involved the death of a girl about the same age as the two recent victims. He’d also engaged in ritualistic behavior, carving crosses and other religious symbols into the victim’s flesh.
Ellen went over and turned off the television, doing her best to control the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.
“Hey, I was watching that,” Brian said.
She folded her arms, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m going away with the children for a few days.”
“You’re what?”
“I know you’ve still been seeing her—your secretary.” Her anger now pushed its way to the surface. “I want a divorce.”
“It’s not what you think. We’re just friends.”
She turned away. “I don’t want to hear it.”
After packing her belongings, Ellen went back into the living room, where she saw that Brian was watching TV again. “I’ll call you in a few days. We can talk about the divorce…and make other arrangements.”
He didn’t look at her. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
She was headed for the door when the doorbell rang, surprising her. She turned back to Brian. “Are you expecting someone?”
He laughed. “Yeah, my girlfriend.”
“Asshole.” She went over and answered the door, but then tried to slam it shut again. A hand reached out and blocked the door, pushing it open.
“What’s going on?” Brian demanded, rising from his chair.
Ellen’s body shook with fear and she nearly collapsed on the floor as the two men stood in their entryway.
“We’ve just come to pay you a little visit,” Joshua Brown said.
His companion was more to the point as he looked at Brian Moore. “To be more precise, we’re here to deliver some last rites.”
THIRTY-ONE
Despite my exhaustion, I spent a restless night thinking about how things had gone with Noah. I decided that we needed to have another talk and I needed to be more understanding about the trauma that he’d endured. I couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through being severely injured in war and then have his fiancée call off their marriage. I promised myself to try and be more understanding in the future.
I finally drifted off to sleep sometime after two in the morning, then was awakened just before six when my phone rang. It was Joe Dawson.
“Don’t tell me I got you out of bed, Buttercup.”
I dragged a hand through my hair and tried to clear the cobwebs. “Just getting ready for my day.” I took a breath. “What’s up?”
“You ever run across the name Joshua Brown on your case?”
Even though my head was still fuzzy, I was drawing a blank. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ve come up with something interesting on the guy. Greer’s letting me take a couple of days to look into things before contacting your administrators and involving the rest of the agency. I can meet you in Hollyweird later this morning, tell you and your boss all about it, if that works for you.”
“See you at the station.”
As I dressed, I thought about what Dawson had said. John Greer was his boss and if he was talking about bringing his agents into the case, it meant we’d eventually lose control of our investigation. I hoped he had something worthwhile to follow up on so that wouldn’t happen.
After arriving at the station, I got with Leo, Oz, Darby, and Buck, and told them about Dawson’s visit. We then decided to gather all the other players for the meeting, including Selfie, Molly, and Brie. Rose Castillo had told me yesterday to let her know about any new developments, so I called her. She said she would come to the station for the meeting and looked forward to seeing her old friend, Joe Dawson.
It was just after ten when we all sat down in the bat cave, I made introductions to those who hadn’t met Joe, and then briefed him on our case, going over the details of our crimes. Brie then discussed the autopsy results, before Rose gave him her best guess as to the profile of the killer or kill
ers.
Dawson was about six feet, solidly built, with graying hair and the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He’d once told me that his pale eye color was because of the hits his soul had taken over the years while working cases, something that he called his own version of blue-eyed soul.
This morning, as he greeted his former co-worker, I was again struck by his almost translucent powder blue eyes. “So you think we might have a duo at work, Rosie?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Castillo said. “But it’s our working hypothesis and the footprints found at the latest crime scene might bear that out.”
“Let me tell you what I’ve got and let’s see what we can piece together from there.” Joe handed Selfie a flash drive. “Can you work your magic, beautiful? Put this up on one of your fancy monitors.”
Selfie blushed and did as instructed, working a remote and squinting as some information appeared on an overhead screen, along with photographs of women who I presumed were victims.
Joe explained, “What we’re looking at is a list of victims, going back about ten years. The girls were all in their late teens, early twenties, taken off the streets. Over the years, the investigators eventually went back and compared the locations of where they disappeared. They discovered that most of the girls were taken near freeways, a couple were snatched at rest stops. Their working theory was that a truck driver was at work in the killings. In time, our suspect was dubbed the Interstate Killer.
“How many girls are we talking about?” Buck asked.
“We think we can tie thirteen girls to the Interstate Killer, but there are probably more that haven’t been linked to him or whose bodies were never found.”
“How were they killed?” Brie asked.
“Early on, the girls were sexually assaulted, strangled, and their bodies were dumped by the road, but as the years passed, our guy began posing his victims. He sometimes dressed them up and painted their faces, giving them the appearance of prostitutes. Our suspect always used a condom, so there was no DNA.”
