Chapter Seven
“Jesus, what now?” Ethan flicked on the bedside lamp that spilled its soft glow out to bathe the hardwood in warm tones of honeyed light. His cell dinged again as if the sender overrode the phone’s normal timing in his impatience. Having left it on the dresser instead of the bedside table meant he stumbled over his dog, Diego, whose chest rumbled in commiseration.
Charlie’s assailant is Otis Cabersom, AKA Ghetto Beast. Look up his sheet. If you hurry, you might find more evidence in his house. I left you a present on your front doorstep. You’re welcome.
“Damn. Why should I be surprised my cyber stalker knows where I live?”
A message this late forewarned of little sleep in his future, so after pulling on jeans, a shirt, and stuffing his feet in tennis shoes, he headed for the front door. Tonight, his simple rancher in the country failed to provide the peace and quiet intended, which brought to mind his brothers’ jokes about Larrick’s redneck ways rubbing off.
Without turning on other lights, he quietly opened the door and realized he should’ve first grabbed his gun. Though no one had declared it open season on cops, someone wanted to leave him a present yet remain anonymous.
This feels too elaborate to have been orchestrated by another prostitute…
Outside, all remained still and quiet with the normal night sounds. The earlier storm had dwindled to a dry breeze sifting through new buds defying last week’s snow flurries. Several whip-poor-wills vocalized their soothing balm in the still night, yet a prickly-legged trepidation crept across his shoulders.
On the brick stoop sat a gray metal container with a block-printed note taped to the top. Open immediately. Property of Otis Cabersom. His computer has snuff films. Check on Charlie’s security.
“What the hell?” Ethan flipped on the porch light while his shepherd bolted through the door and toward the north woods shielding his property from the main road.
“Diego, come.”
Immediate obedience didn’t prevent low grumbles rumbling from the dog’s chest.
With a sigh, he retrieved a pair of gloves from the foyer closet and stepped outside. In the event his admirer doubled as a sick prankster, he’d open the box outdoors.
No doubt that whatever was inside, the sender held a strong grudge and intended this as a smoking gun. Ethan prayed it wouldn’t blow up in his face. If it were from a prostitute, then perhaps they’d get another set of prints to strengthen the case.
Swaths of mutating shadows ghosted the contents until he tilted the metal container and revealed a ledger underneath a cache of jewelry. Smears of crimson camouflaged details of a ring to prompt images of a psychotic killer severing a finger to obtain the prize. Until now, they’d made little headway in the case. Present contents could be a game changer, the first hard evidence obtained despite the circumstances of its arrival. Since Charlie had refused to give up her assailant, her boss, or her colleagues, their case had effectively reached a dead end. Now, in one fell swoop, someone was trying to hand him the entire case wrapped up in a neat, unexpected present.
He generally hated surprises.
The ledger contained tables with dates and amounts, each under a woman’s code name, no doubt the women considered as property. Some of the clients were names Ethan recognized, which meant the shit would hit the fan when the case went to court.
“Looks like it’s gonna be a long night.”
Ethan’s car rounded the corner of Sycamore Ave. The vehicle’s tires skidding on loose stones preceded Larrick’s frame tightening.
“I’d really like to arrive at the same time as you and the car, partner.” Larrick’s snark was common when tired and agitated.
“They’re called seatbelts for a reason, partner,” Ethan replied.
Considering the wee hour in obtaining the warrant, Larrick would probably grumble all day, despite the way his right heel bounced on the floorboard in anticipation.
“If this turns into a wild goose chase, my girlfriend is going to fry our nuts for breakfast.” Larrick’s complaints failed to cover the excitement in his voice. “Ya know, if you’d put some cameras around your house, we’d discover the identity of your secret admirer.”
“Maybe that’s why I received the package and not you.” All of Ethan’s brothers had complained at one point or another about his careless disregard for personal security. He would never concede their point.
“Right now, I’d settle for nailing this dirtball, regardless of who’s helping us.” Larrick tucked the legal paperwork they’d obtained in his jacket pocket. “What if the DNA on the jewelry doesn’t come back to Otis?”
“Then we’ll work harder on tracking my anonymous tipster. However, I’m betting it will. You think one of his girls broke into his house and stole his stash?”
“Dunno, it just doesn’t seem to fit considering the tech skills needed to hack police files and your personal information. On the other hand, it would explain the request for Charlie’s security check. Getting those girls to talk will be impossible until he’s behind bars without bail.”
“It’d be harder to make a case with no witnesses unless we can tie the jewelry to the other murders.” Ethan turned off Dutchman’s Lane and checked house numbers. “Should be third on the right.”
“No lights on. Either this is bogus and he’s asleep, or our man’s in the wind.” Larrick checked his weapon then holstered it in his shoulder rig.
“Or he doesn’t know his stuff is missing.” Ethan cut the lights and engine. “Considering his line of work, either way is a recipe for hostility.”
“Yeah. And it’s my turn to go first.” Larrick brushed stray locks of hair from his forehead as if removing the tension he now radiated. No noise betrayed their exit from the vehicle.
Serrated dandelion leaves poked through cracks in the brick walkway leading to the front door while interlocking branches overhead provided stippled moonlight in ever-changing shapes. The storm earlier had left a tinge of ozone that seemed to thicken the air with apprehension. A broken streetlamp in front of the home added to the unwelcome malevolence. “Vandalism in prep for breaking and entering?” Ethan asked.
“Remind me why we’re not waiting for backup?” Larrick murmured as each man palmed his weapon.
“I’ve called it in. ’Sides, you’re a tough guy and I’m bulletproof.” Ethan climbed the steps to the porch after his age-old retort.
Each stood sideways by the door, their unspoken ritual of taking a deep breath the only mental preparation necessary.
Larrick pulled the screen door open, wedging his foot to maintain the space while he knocked on the door. It inched open with the slightest tap. “Hmm, door’s ajar, and I smell beer.”
“It’s not time for a break.”
“Smartass.” Larrick grinned before continuing, “Otis Cabersom. Open up. Police.”
“I don’t think the spiders hiding in the porch ceiling heard you, much less anyone inside.” From the hinged side, Ethan yanked the screen door wide.
“Ready? Let’s go see if the dipshit needs help drinking his suds.” Larrick shoved the metal door wide then waited. Silence lingered as stale air drifted from the inside. Dim light illuminated the interior after Larrick fumbled for the switch.
“Compassion just emanates from your soul.” Ethan’s quip was answered with a smirk.
Larrick entered quickly and moved right. Ethan followed and rushed left.
“Anybody home?” Ethan stepped around the two loose floorboards lying crossways in his path. An overturned chair revealed where the boards had originated. The gaping hole equaled a moderate-sized storage compartment set between the floor joists. “Empty.”
“He’s gone. Let’s clear the house then see what we can find.” Ethan continued to the kitchen, noting the trash and broken glass scattered on the tile floor in a space smelling like cheap brew.
“Got something.” From what appeared to be a study, Larrick motioned to a wall safe. “Also empty.”
&
nbsp; “Bastard had two stashes. Not unusual,” Ethan said. After clearing the last room on the ground floor, they moved up the stairway. “I got the single room on the left.”
Larrick waited while Ethan searched the first room, then paced to the right. “This door’s wedged. Give me a hand.” A few minutes of maneuvering saw the door open. “Well hell. Imagine that.”
Noting the broken window across the room, he continued. “Huh. Glass is on the outside,” Larrick murmured.
“Like someone broke in elsewhere but didn’t leave the same way?” Ethan surmised.
“Got caught in the study and made it up here? Broke the window, used the blanket for protection, and jumped from the porch.” Larrick continued, “But didn’t take their blanket…”
“Damn, do you think Otis got ’em?” Ethan asked.
“Dunno. Let’s get forensics up here. At least we have some DNA.” Larrick pointed to the crimson drips on a glass shard.
“This guy’s a piece of work.” Ethan used his flashlight to scan the area outside.
“I’m sure he gets called a lot of things.”
“Most of the time, ‘defendant', I imagine.” Without disturbing anything, Ethan led the way out. “Let’s check around the outside. We’ve got to find him before he tracks down our informant.”
“According to his sheet, he eliminates witnesses, quickly and efficiently.”
“If he hasn’t already. Hell, I hope we don’t find another mutilated body.” Down the steps and out the door, Ethan searched for signs of struggle, a torn bit of clothing, drops of blood, anything. According to their records, the beast was big and vicious. “Rained earlier, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Once outside, they walked the perimeter. “I’m guessing our homeowner isn’t a gardener,” Larrick quipped. Except for the few unkempt bushes along the front porch, no other shrubs hugged the dwelling. Patches of grass formed a bizarre ground map, interspersed with mud. “Hey, I got two sets of prints leading…through the hedge. There’s a set of canine impressions beside the smaller footprints. Looks like our girl, guessing by the print size, got away from him.” Ethan prayed the resident was as slow as he was evil. “I didn’t see muddy paw prints in the house. Why would someone bring their dog to a break-in?”
“Yeah, the dog just waited here? Not many dogs would hold a sit-stay like that.” The more Ethan pondered the situation, the more of a headache he got. “Sides, how many prostitutes do you know have canine companions and are hackers.”
“None that I know…” Larrick murmured.
“Maybe someone who has a therapy dog? They are well trained. Hospital security reported Charlie had a visitor, a girl with a service dog.” Ethan wondered if the girl was their anonymous tipster.
“Possibly, but the damn tapes didn’t give us a clear visual of her face,” Larrick muttered.
“Yeah, but how many girls own therapy dogs and visit prostitutes in the hospital. The footage did show us she wasn’t dressed like a working girl.” Ethan grinned as a picture formed in his mind. “Hospitals have to have records of visitation of that nature, if for nothing else, insurance purposes.”
“Which means there might be a way to track her down.”
“Bingo.”
Tender Echoes Page 8
