by Robin Mahle
“Do you think it’s related?”
“Oh yeah. No doubt about it,” Vince continued. “They’ve already identified the body as that of a woman and she was found in the same vicinity as the others.”
“The cops must be starting to get nervous. What were these women doing in that part of town?”
“The younger girl was walking home from a house party. I guess her car broke down or something and she was waiting for her ride to show up and decided just to start walking.”
“Jesus,” Marc replied.
“The other, I don’t know why she was on West Adams. Maybe she was USC faculty, I haven’t confirmed with the police, but she was also walking alone at night.”
“That could still be a pretty far walk and by herself?”
“Agreed. We’ll have to wait on the rest. Does this mean you want this one?”
Marc had to broach the topic because he knew it was coming. “You looking to make a move out of LA?”
“Maybe. I think I’m ready to see what else is out there.”
Marc considered his remark. “Let me ask you something. You know I helped break the Highway Hunter case, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you might remember what they did to the bodies.”
“I remember.”
“Is that why you called me? I looked at the crime scene photos you sent. You were on scene before they took the body away?”
“I was. They taped off the area, but I got there before they loaded her onto the truck.”
“Has anyone else seen these pictures?”
“No. Cops asked me not to include them in the story. Said they didn’t want any copy cats and they needed to leave out specific details to help them find the real killer.”
“Right. So the public doesn’t know that this—person—is slicing and dicing the bodies, but seems to be making up the faces? I mean, it doesn’t appear as though these women would’ve been wearing that much makeup. It looks intentional.”
“So far, that’s been left out. I believe he is applying makeup to them as if he was getting them ready for a photo shoot. It looks highly staged; professional. You know it won’t be long before that gets out. He’s leaving them out in the open. Propped up on a park bench, or like this last one, they found her at a bus stop.”
“Get back with me when you know more about this third victim. We’ll work something out. Thanks for the heads-up, Vince.” Marc ended the call.
This was far removed from the stories he’d covered over the past year or so. While there weren’t any specific markings like the Highway Hunter cases, this guy was sending a message nonetheless. But he wondered; would his old friend, who’d suffered enough losses, want to hear from him again? Would she want to bring this to her BAU boss, Agent Nick Scarborough? This was still a case for the LA police and it wasn’t likely to be handed over to the feds, unless they asked for help.
Marc detested the thoughts that were forming in his mind, but he was a man who could still go places. Places that would pay him more money, where he’d have more prestige. But he would have to break something bigger than the Highway Hunter and Vince wanted something in return too.
His contacts with the feds were few and far between. Kate Reid was about the only person who might be interested in this. And if she was, he knew she would be his go-to. But then, he was the one who brought Edward Shalot to her doorstep. Had she forgiven him for that? Could she forgive him was probably the better question. He supposed the only way to know for sure was to call up his old friend.
CHAPTER 2
A young professional in a bespoke suit raised his index finger to the bartender, signaling he was ready for another drink. However, given the mass of thirsty patrons, it would be several more minutes before he was handed his second vodka tonic.
It had been standing room only for the latecomers, but fortunately, Kate Reid and Alicia Vasquez had arrived early at the popular bar. It was a rare day when they could leave work at a decent time and the two, who had grown closer in recent months, elected to have a quick drink before heading home.
It was Alicia who’d spotted the well-dressed businessman at the end of the bar, eyeing the two of them when he thought neither was looking. “What about that guy over there?” She cocked her head just slightly in his direction.
“Who are you talking about?” Kate asked. “That guy?” Her eyes shifted to the man in the dark grey suit, who was sporting a heavy five o’clock shadow.
“Yeah. He keeps looking over here.”
Kate smiled. “Probably because we’re the only two women here without a man.”
“We are not. And I know he isn’t looking at me.”
“He could be.”
“I don’t think so. And even if he was, he’s not exactly my type. He has a penis.”
Kate tossed her head back in a full-bellied laugh. “That is true. But he’s not my type either.”
“You’re so full of shit, Kate. He’s brooding, mysterious, piercing eyes. I’ve known you long enough to know he’s exactly your type.”
“Well, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter. I’m taking a break for a while.” Kate sipped on her white wine. “I’ve got some big decisions to make and I don’t need a man clouding my head.”
“So you decided to move?”
“I think so. I’d like to be closer to work. I mean, what the hell do I need a house for? A little one-bedroom apartment in the heart of D.C. would suit me just fine.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. I guess you could get rid of that piece of shit car of yours if you did that.”
Kate shook her head and smiled. “Yes, yes, I could.” Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. “Damn it. Don’t look, but that guy is coming over here.”
Alicia immediately spun her head around.
“I said don’t look.”
“Evening, ladies.”
“Evening.” Kate fashioned a polite smile.
“You two seem to be having a good time. I’ve been hearing quite a bit of laughter over here.” He placed his half-empty vodka tonic on the table and extended his hand. “I’m Noah Quinn. Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure.” Kate took his hand. “I have to tell you, Noah, that my girlfriend and I are having a very nice time blowing off some steam, so if you don’t mind, I think we’d prefer to spend time alone. You understand.”
“Of course. My apologies for interrupting. You two have a nice evening.” He began to walk away.
“Girlfriend? Are we dating now?” Alicia displayed another raised brow.
“I’m not in the mood to deal with the likes of Noah Quinn. Come on; that cannot be his real name. That’s the name of a character in a mommy-porn novel.”
“That’s a little harsh and judgmental, isn’t it? He seemed nice enough.”
“So did Ted Bundy.”
“Yeah, you’ve been working here too long.” Alicia studied Kate for a moment. “How’s things with you and Scarborough?”
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Kate, I’m not stupid. Things have been weird between you two for a while. And then you broke up with Mike a couple of months ago and it’s like there’s this thing, this wall, between you. Scarborough changed after the death of his friend’s son, and I know he blames himself, but it’s more than that. He’s closed off, all business. That’s not the guy I know.”
Kate hadn’t revealed to anyone the conversation she and Nick had that morning at his place. But if Alicia had picked up on the tension, then she was sure not only Dwight would have, but probably most of their colleagues had as well. It was what she had tried so hard to avoid. Things were weird and she hated it because she missed how close they used to be. In the few months that had passed, she thought it would get better, but it hadn’t and it was becoming a problem for both of them.
“No, it isn’t. But I’ve decided that I can’t help him through this. He has to do it himself. We’ve all been through the wringer and
you know that. I’m done feeling sorry and I’m done feeling like I have to take care of him. I know how that sounds, but Alicia, I don’t have the strength to shoulder his problems along with my own.”
“What are you saying?”
Kate’s phone began to ring and she glanced at the caller ID. “Oh my God. Hang on a second. I need to take this.” She slid out of her seat and headed out the front door and into the cold night air. “Marc? Is that you?”
“Kate! How are you?”
“Good. I haven’t heard from you in a long time. But I’ve seen your show. I can’t believe you’re on CBN. It’s fantastic!” She eyed a woman who seemed annoyed that Kate was standing near the bar’s entrance and talking on her phone. She stepped aside and nodded as the woman, draped in a heavy wool coat, entered. “So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’d like to send you something I got from an old colleague when I worked in LA. I guess there’ve been some things going on that I thought might interest you.”
“Things?”
“There’s no way to put this delicately. Three women have been found in South LA, their bodies left in pretty bad shape, but their faces untouched. And they’ve been left posed, I guess is the only way to describe it. Like on a park bench. Sat upright.”
“Oh my God. So, what does this have to do with me?” Kate adored Marc and the two had been through their share together, but she knew he wouldn’t be calling her if he didn’t want something.
“Well, you work on these kinds of cases, don’t you? Serial killers and bizarre murders and things like that.”
“I do, but it sounds like LAPD is running this one. It’s not something I can just jump right into. And besides, why would you want me to?”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend not to remember the last time I called you up and asked for a favor. I know what that favor cost you.”
Kate raised her head to the starless sky. “That’s not on you, Marc.”
“I suppose what it boils down to is that my former colleague wants me to pitch this story to CBN. He’s angling to get out of the local market. But I don’t think they’ll be interested unless the feds are. And that’s where you come in.”
“You have to understand that things don’t work that way. I can’t barge into LAPD and demand they hand over the case files. On something like this—local—they have to ask for our help. Allow us to offer up a profile of the unsub; assist them on the investigation. And so far, this is the first I’m hearing of it. So I don’t think they’ve reached out to us yet.” She considered again what it was that he wanted out of this. “What happens if you pitch this to CBN?”
“You mean, what do I get out of it?”
She didn’t reply.
“I deserve that,” Marc said. “And I imagine the AP has already covered this, but no one else seems to want to pick it up.”
“Except you. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“Come on, Kate. You’ve seen the type of BS fluff stories I get. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be where I am and, honestly, I have you to thank for that. I guess I’m the only one who benefited from the Highway Hunter case. But the fact of the matter is, I need a strong national headliner. This can’t be all there is for me.”
“Marc, you’re a good friend and I don’t hold you responsible for anything Edward Shalot did. You need to understand that. Even if I could reach out to LAPD, which is above my pay grade, I can guarantee you, I wouldn’t be the one running the show. I couldn’t give you any scoops or anything like that. I don’t think I’d be much help to you at all.”
“Before you dismiss it completely, will you just take a look at what I’ve got? If anything, you’re damn good at your job and you might see something they don’t. You know you got that crazy sixth sense thing.”
Kate had to laugh. “Sure.” She rubbed her arm for warmth, as the temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees just since she began this conversation. “I need to get back inside. I’m freezing my ass off out here.” She paused and cast her gaze among cars passing by, their red taillights hazed by the visible exhaust floating in the air. “Send me what you’ve got. I’ll take it upstairs and see what we can do.”
“Thank you, Kate. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Uh huh. It was good to hear from you, Marc. Hey, you miss the warm weather back home?”
“Sometimes.”
“Me too. I’ll catch up with you later. Good night.” Kate returned inside and found Noah Quinn sitting with Alicia. Her eyes widened and her palms turned up, a silent questioning of her friend’s intentions.
“Kate,” Noah said. “Your friend here was explaining to me that you might have been mistaken as to your current relationship status.”
“Oh, did she?” Daggers shot from Kate’s eyes toward her soon-to-be former friend.
Alicia offered a phony smile and shrugged her shoulders.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Come on, baby. It’s time to go to school.” Dina Knight placed her hands against her son’s shoulders and began to usher him toward the door. “Andre?” she shouted up the staircase. “Andre, we’re leaving.”
A moment later, Andre Knight appeared at the top of the stairs and began leaping down to meet them at the bottom. “Have a good day at school, little man.” He kissed his son on the top of his head.
“Look at your tie. Come here.” Dina began to straighten her husband’s tie and smoothed it down his chest. “Much better. I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed his lips.
“I might have to work late.”
“Again? Andre, come on. That’s the third time this week. You’re going to miss dinner again?”
“I said I might. I’ll let you know as soon as I do. You know I got to put in the hours if I want a promotion.”
Dina pursed her lips. “Right. And I’m sure they’ll remember that you were working twelve-hour days when the time comes.”
“Mom, we’re going to be late.”
“You’d better go,” Andre replied.
“All right.” She pulled open the door. “You let me know if you’re going to be home for dinner, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Andre closed the door behind them and pressed his back against it with a heavy sigh. He quickly recovered from the morning chaos and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing his insulated coffee cup for the commute to his office. A quick check of the time and he knew if he didn’t leave now, chances were better than fair he’d be late for work.
He stepped outside and walked along the concrete path toward his car, which sat on the driveway. With his eyes briefly cast toward the sun, he realized it would be a warm day. It was November and he still hadn’t gotten used to the weather in Los Angeles. Andre was a transplant. His native Detroit no longer provided him and his family the stability of a good job, so he moved them here last year.
Andre took to the road and headed into Downtown LA where he worked as an accountant for a telecommunications company. The pay wasn’t great, but at least it was a job. Dina worked in a clinic that offered medical services for those with little or no health insurance.
Their home was a rental in a not-so-nice neighborhood in LA, but it was all they could afford for now. He carried a gun with him at all times and insisted Dina carry one too. She sometimes worked the second shift and he didn’t like her walking into the parking lot alone at night.
Andre arrived at work just in the nick of time and quickly made his way inside the six-story building. “Morning, Stella.”
“Good morning, Andre. Right on time, as usual. You have a good day, now.”
“I will, ma’am. And you too.” Andre continued past the receptionist and toward his cubicle, which was near the back of the building. With the obligatory pleasantries exchanged, he sat down and got to work.
Andre only had a couple of friends at the office, but they weren’t close. Lunches and the occasional beer after work and that was about all. He’d been invited, along with his family, to attend
barbeques and birthday parties and the like, but Andre always had an excuse for not being able to attend. He never even made mention of the invites to Dina. He was a man who preferred to keep to himself and that was the way he’d always been.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Miguel Perez worked in customer service and the only time he made his way to accounting was when one of his customers argued against a charge on their bill. “You got a second to look something up for me?”
Andre regarded the man with the pomaded hair and loud tie. “Sure. What is it?”
“This puta says she has a charge on her bill and says it’s higher than it’s supposed to be.”
“What’s the account number?” Andre despised Miguel but luckily didn’t cross paths with him that often. Still, just looking at the punk made his pulse rate rise.
Miguel handed him the information and Andre began to search for this erroneous charge. “It’s right. She’s wrong.” He turned the screen so Miguel could see it.
“Okay. Thanks, man.” He turned on his heel.
Andre began to imagine himself catching up with Miguel, grabbing him by the shoulder, and whipping him around. And before he would know what hit him, Andre would stab him in the eye with a fork. A smile crossed his face as he continued to type on his keyboard.
The day passed by with little notice and numbed by the banality of his job, Andre hadn’t realized it was already time to leave. He never stayed a single minute beyond five p.m., no matter what he still had to process. For thirteen dollars an hour, they didn’t deserve his extra time. He logged off his computer and reached for his briefcase, which he never really needed but liked to carry anyway. It made him feel important and made him look important in his wife’s eyes.
He began walking out of the building and, again, nodded his way through, never saying much to anyone. Andre reached his car and pressed the remote to open it. He keyed the ignition of his 2004 Honda CRV. The engine sputtered, then caught and began to purr. The parking lot was emptying quicker than an elevator after someone had a back-end blowout. He waited several minutes for his chance to escape.
