* * * *
“Hell. It’s sick enough to kill a woman but this damn mutilation? Is he trying to win an award for demented creativity?” Ethan stared at the spot where the prostitute had lain.
Warm blood had dissolved clumps of dirt and then cooled to reshape the forms in a macabre picture of death, written in a language best understood by the homeless. Beside the overturned trashcan where she’d been found lay a wad of trash. The gag, made of the street’s detritus, had probably muffled the girl’s screams while giving further testimony of mankind’s inhumanity.
“Takes all kinds, partner.” Larrick nodded to the crime scene techs packing up the rest of the evidence and their gear. “Thanks, guys.”
“Two women in as many days. I don’t think it’s some kind of fundamentalist off his meds. That’s assuming the naked girl tonight was in the same line of work.” The narrow alley, normally home to several of the dispossessed, now held only the legacy of their nightmares, memories of death and mutilation. “I’m thinking he wanted to narrow his warning. Stripping the flesh from her fingers while still alive might warn others not to steal from him.”
“What about the old-fashioned, curved corn knife shoved up between her legs and exiting her abdomen?” Larrick’s complexion paled slightly as he spoke.
“Shit. I have no idea.” Ethan held up one finger when his cell vibrated on his hip.
“Maybe our girl in the hospital caught wind of this and has miraculously remembered everything that happened to her.” Larrick edged closer to read Ethan’s text message.
“Hmm, seems I have a combination of secret admirer and amateur sleuth wanting to play in the big leagues. Says the same bastard perpetrated this girl’s attack as on our hospital vic. Perpetrated. We might have a fairly educated person sending the text…Probably not from someone in these ranks.”
“Or…Hell. The body’s only been in the morgue for what, half an hour?” Larrick checked his watch. “Do you think it’s our killer playing with us?”
“Doubt it’s the killer. Unless this is his idea of an advanced warning. ’Sides, if my fan can hack my phone, why not also slip into police records?” Ethan whistled low, a habit indicating extreme concentration.
“What?”
“I have three other names here, the next possible targets. Somebody’s trying to protect the prostitutes, probably in the same stable.” Ethan turned his phone to show the list of names on his screen.
“Girls who are not normally known for advanced tech skills. So maybe it’s someone who’s sweet on one of the girls,” Larrick murmured. “Or perhaps one of Charlie’s comrades crossed into another pimp’s territory and these girls are the message.”
“Either way, we have another player trying to intervene. Someone on the outside looking in,” Ethan added. “I’ll stop by our IT department tomorrow morning and see if they can trace this message back to the source.” Not many would care enough to look out for these lost souls.
Tender Echoes Page 5
