Baby watched him slip out of the hotel side door, cross the parking lot and get into an older car that would blend into traffic unnoticed. Most days, he liked to be noticed. Liked the limelight. Liked the center stage. His red car. He ducked into the shadows when he wanted sin. And judging by the flush in his cheeks and the spring in his step, he’d been a bad, bad boy.
This bad boy had gone unpunished for a long time and clearly Dixie’s lesson had not been enough to reform his ways or redirect him back to what was important.
Another lesson would have to be taught.
Settling back, Baby waited for the woman he’d no doubt come to see. Baby didn’t have a name for the woman and didn’t know what she looked like but it wasn’t hard to spot his type. Blond. Buxom. Pretty. So pretty. He was predictable when it came to women.
Fifteen minutes later a woman emerged from the side door. Blond hair flowed over narrow shoulders clad in a tailored suit. Her blouse was made of silk and her jewelry gold. Demure kitten heels kept her from being overly obvious. No fuck-me-pumps for this gal.
But this little lady possessed a swagger, a confidence that fit his perfect woman profile. He spent his days telling the world what to do, how to live, but alone, behind closed doors, he liked to be told what to do. He liked the strong ones.
The woman fished keys from a large leather purse, clicked open a car door lock and slid behind the wheel of a black Cadillac. She checked her makeup in the mirror and then carefully pulled into traffic. Baby fired up the engine and followed.
Wouldn’t take much digging and poking around to find out if lady-in-the-suit would be his next lesson.
January 5
Sugar,
I know you are disappointed you couldn’t help. I understand that you got a lot to lose. And really who would have seen that guy coming? He was on stage and hitting me before Rudy could grab his bat and knock him flat. And don’t worry about the bruise. The doctor said it will heal fast. No broken bones.
Xoxo,
A.
Chapter Eleven
Monday, October 17, 11 AM
Hoots and high-fives had Deke glancing up from a forensics report through the glass walls of his office into the office center. Many of the officers had risen from their desks and were gathered around someone. Deke pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair as he waited to see who had caused the commotion.
When the crowd cleared, he saw his brother Rick and Rick’s canine, Tracker, moving from the circle of officers. Both Rick and Tracker paused and allowed back-slaps as if both understood returning to the station and being surrounded by the sights and sounds of cops was good.
Deke knew Rick had not wanted to take leave from the department, but he and his dog had been deemed unfit for street duty after the shooting. There’d been talk of wanting a desk job but Rick had resisted, opting to keep his options open while on unpaid leave. “Better to retrench and return,” he’d said last year. “If we’re not working the streets we’ll go insane.”
Rick had returned to school where he now was finishing up his undergraduate degree. Tracker spent his days always close at Rick’s side. He’d become an honored mascot at school, no one ever questioning the right of a retired police dog to sit in class.
With Tracker on his heel, Rick entered Deke’s office. Tracker jumped up on a worn leather couch and closed his eyes, though his ears remained perked.
Deke rose. “Welcome.”
Rick shook Deke’s hand. “I hear you have another victim.”
“That’s right.” Deke settled in his chair as Rick carefully eased into the seat across from him.
Rick had taken a bullet to the hip. Even after six months, he struggled with discomfort and pain.
“What can you tell me about Lexis Hanover?”
“I didn’t know her all that well. She was in the math department and I’m in the history department. But the school is like a big small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. She was liked and respected. Some of the students have already started putting flowers at her office door.”
“Anyone have a beef with her?”
Rick crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his knee. He laid a manila file on his thigh. “None that I heard of, but I can ask around if you like.”
“I would. I want to know anyone who might have had a grudge. She died hard.”
“Has the medical examiner looked at her yet?”
Deke checked his watch. “She will soon. You’re welcome to sit in if you like.”
“What about your partner?”
“Busy with personnel, getting the last of his retirement papers squared away. Tonight is his retirement party.”
“You and KC have been partners six months?”
“Give or take.”
He shifted his weight as if moving away from the pain. “Must be odd working with a guy who worked with Buddy.”
“It’s been an experience.” All the Morgan kids had worked under Buddy’s shadow. He’d been a damned legend in Homicide. But Deke had born the brunt of most of the comparisons.
“So what do you have for me?”
Rick flipped open the file. “I’ve been digging nonstop. Interesting case.”
Deke leaned back in his chair. “I can tell by that twinkle in your eye that you found something.”
“Buddy had two big breaks on this case. The first came eight weeks after Annie vanished. Her bones were found in the woods. Not much of her left. Head and hands were missing. But a silver heart-shaped necklace was found with the bones and later identified as Annie’s.”
“Not much forensic evidence.”
“The arm bones did show severe unhealed fractures. Best guess was that she’d been beaten to death.”
“Like my current victims.”
Rick raised a brow. “Similar, as a matter of fact. Without the skull it is impossible to tell about facial injuries but her extremities were shattered with a hard object.”
Deke leaned back in his chair. “What are the chances it’s the same killer?”
“Killers do go dark for any number of reasons, and then for equally unknown reasons they reactivate.”
“What was Buddy’s second break?”
“Four days after Annie Dawson’s body was found a confidential informant named Max Quincy who was in county jail on theft charges told his guards that he had information on the Annie Dawson case. Said he’d trade his information if charges were dropped.”
“And Buddy went for that? The story was all over the news and radio. How many CIs or false witnesses did they have to sift through?”
“A few. But Buddy didn’t pass up any leads. He talked to every nut that called in with a tip, including Max.”
“And what did Max tell Buddy?”