Faces Of Evil: Vicious Part 18

Fear rammed into Jess. She turned to Dan. The sisters were with this man and Jess knew exactly where they were-or, at least, where they had been. "The Howard Johnson Inn where I stayed when I first got here."

Why hadn't she thought of that place? Jesus Christ she should have known.

"Heading there now."

Tires squealed as Dan whipped out onto the street.

Jess started to enter the number for dispatch but a call from Harper interrupted.

"Chief, we're en route to the Howard-"

"So are we." Her voice sounded empty. But agony was br.i.m.m.i.n.g inside her. "We'll meet you there."

Jess felt sick.

The murders were growing more blatant. Each one added another layer of guilt to the mountain already sitting on her shoulders.

Spears intended to win this battle... even if it was his last.

18.

Howard Johnson Inn, 4:30 p.m.

Are you having fun yet, Jess?

That was the message on the wall above the bed. It appeared to be written in the victim's blood. Even after more than half an hour, Jess couldn't stop glancing back to look at it again. The words had been videoed, photographed, and swabbed for evidence.

The room was a b.l.o.o.d.y mess.

Since each victim's heart had ceased to beat before the mangling of the torso, there was no reason for blood to be all over the room. What were they doing? Using the victim's blood like lotion or body paint. Jess shuddered. Hadn't she seen a movie or read a book about a blood countess in Hungary or somewhere in Europe? Legend or historical fact she couldn't recall. Were these two killers performing the same sort of rituals?

Had Ellis studied more than the Old Masters while in Europe? Maybe he'd decided to relive some of the folklore he'd learned.

Were the Vance sisters his pupils in the art of death?

Another shudder rocked Jess. Too many questions and not enough answers. She pushed aside her raw emotions and focused on the details of the scene. Just about a month ago, this room had been vandalized along with all her things. It certainly hadn't taken the motel long to get it refurbished. Too bad for Mr. Theodore McCrary of Nashville, fifty-nine and widowed with one grown son.

He had come to Birmingham for a business meeting yesterday. According to an a.s.sociate whose business card was found at the scene, after a long meeting McCrary and several others had gone to dinner and then to a bar. When they'd parted around ten-thirty, McCrary had called a taxi to return to his motel. He was supposed to fly back to Nashville today. His son had gone to the airport to pick him up at one o'clock but his father hadn't been on the flight. When repeated calls to the vic's cell had gone unanswered, the son had called the motel.

Imagine the manager's surprise when, after much prompting by the son, he'd found this unholy mess.

Mr. McCrary had come back to his room last night, but the sisters had probably been waiting and intercepted him at the pool. He'd said something in the video about going back to the pool. To reach this room, pa.s.sing the pool in the inner courtyard was necessary. To a man McCrary's age, away from home and feeling lonely, having two beautiful young women flirting must have been very flattering. A few more drinks, a little Curare, and the poor man was done.

"Same array of tools as before," Harper reported.

"Brands are sold at Lowes and Home Depot," Hayes added.

Cook and Lori were interviewing guests in the surrounding rooms.

"Do we have information on the son for a next of kin notification?" The motel manager had not called the son back to relay the news.

"Nashville Metro is contacting Mr. McCrary's son." Harper checked his cell. "Dr. Baron says she's on her way."

"I hope she's not driving and texting." Jess was a little annoyed with the ME. She'd watched Cook's face light up every time he heard Baron's name. Jess didn't know when she'd decided saving the youngest member of her team from heartbreak was her job. She had enough on her plate already.

Maybe it was the idea that Sylvia had ignored Jess's wishes on the matter. When had professional courtesy gone out of style?

Or maybe it was her, Jess mused. She couldn't seem to focus. Her emotions had hopped on a roller coaster and refused to get off.

She was not herself. How much of her fluctuating emotions were hormones? She had no idea. The better question was when would it pa.s.s?

She moved to the door of the small bathroom and surveyed the smears of blood. There were few footprints this time. The room's new carpet had seen to that. The place was going to need another refurbishing. When Jess had arrived the manager had taken one look at her and shaken his head. You'd think she would be used to that kind of reaction by now.

"Sergeant?" Jess turned back to the room at large. Harper moved toward her. "I'd like you, Detective Wells and Officer Cook to focus on finding the Vance sisters and Ellis. Ensure we have surveillance on their homes and the gallery twenty-four/seven. Lieutenant Hayes and I will wrap things up here."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Lieutenant, where's Chief Burnett?" He'd been here a few minutes ago. Jess didn't usually have this much trouble keeping up with the folks at her crime scenes.

"He's just outside taking a call. Do you need him?"

She shook her head. "I'll talk to him in a minute." Mostly she just needed to confirm he was close by and safe.

She wished she had the luxury of just falling into Dan's arms and closing out all this ugliness. How would she ever make a decent life for this child? Her entire existence revolved around murder.

"See if there's anyone else we need to interview here, Lieutenant. I'll see what our ME has to say and then we'll be on our way. I have a few things I need to do at the office." Then she was going home and she and Dan were going to talk. No matter what happened. The rest of the world was just going to have to take a time out.

Hayes hesitated. "You won't-"

"I'll be right here, Lieutenant. I'm not going anywhere."

When she'd shooed him away, Jess stared at the poor man on the bed. I am so sorry. Chances were he had never even heard of Jess Harris. Now he was dead because of her. For the first time in her career, she wanted to cry right here in the middle of a crime scene.

"What has your crazed serial killer done to get your attention this time?"

Startled from her troubling thoughts, Jess turned to the ME as she breezed into the room. "You're late."

Sylvia arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were keeping tabs on my response times."

Jess looked her up and down. Even under the disposable paper lab coat the formfitting dress was eye catching. The soft muted color of orange, not the garish one, even looked good with her red hair.

"Nice dress," Jess said begrudgingly.

Sylvia shrugged. "If you haven't heard, orange is the new black."

If tangerine counted Jess was in vogue and she hadn't even tried. At the moment, she didn't care. "Thanks for the fashion tip."

Jess wasn't cutting the ME any slack this afternoon. She was too tired, too disgusted and way out of patience.

Sylvia waved a gloved hand toward the bed. "Let's have a look at the vic."

"I think the sisters are growing weary of this game." Jess surveyed McCrary once more. "His clothes are still on." His shirt had been ripped open. b.u.t.tons were scattered everywhere. Yet, his trousers remained fastened, including the belt. Shoes and socks on his feet. The sisters hadn't given this guy the full treatment the other victims had received. Maybe they'd taken short cuts because he was too old for their taste.

"No foreplay, eh?" Sylvia set her bag aside. She peeled back the shirt in the area of his left shoulder and leaned down to have a closer look.

Jess frowned. What was up with all these s.e.xual metaphors? Was the woman just h.o.r.n.y or what?

"How about making yourself useful, Harris, and checking the other shoulder?"

Jess put aside her irritation and hurried around to the far side of the bed and uncovered the victim's right shoulder. "Are we looking for an injection site?" She pushed her gla.s.ses up the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand.

"We are."

Jess searched the pale, gray skin of his shoulder and upper arm. "Found it."

Sylvia came around to her side of the bed and had a look. "That's it." She straightened. "I'll confirm but I think we'll find an overdose of the Curare was cause of death." She moved back to the other side of the bed and rummaged around in her bag.

"He appeared inebriated in the video I received." Jess looked down at the man whose chest had been cracked open just as brutally as the others. Wrong place, wrong time. Loneliness had made him vulnerable. "They prodded him with drink and lured him to bed with the promise of s.e.x."

"Been there, done that a few times," Sylvia muttered as she prepared to take the body's temperature.

"The lurer or the luree?" The ME had walked right into that one. Jess wanted to discuss Cook with her anyway. Now was as good a time as any. Or maybe Jess was just in the mood to pick a fight.

Sylvia shot her a look. "Since both parties usually regret it the next morning, is that even relevant?"

"Depends," Jess tossed right back, "whether or not both parties understood what they were getting into in the first place."

Sylvia checked her thermometer. "Are we talking about someone in particular?"

"Aren't these conversations always about someone in particular?" Jess argued. She wasn't Cook's mother or his sister, but she did not intend to have a member of her team emotionally compromised just to fulfill Sylvia Baron's s.e.xual fantasies.

"I see." Sylvia a.s.sessed her in that condescending manner only those born to privilege could pull off. "You do have issues with older women choosing younger men."

"I absolutely do not. Unless," Jess glanced down at the murder victim lying between them, "it costs one of those involved more than he intended to pay."

"Who says anyone is going to pay anything?" The ME was more than a little put out now.

"We both know someone will." Jess lowered her voice since the crime scene unit was still going over the room. Why didn't Sylvia just back off? This was a conflict of interest, for Pete's sake. She should just pick some other younger guy.

Sylvia scoffed. "Besides, I never make the first move, Chief Harris."

Now she'd just made Jess mad. "Like you don't dress for attention. Every male in the vicinity watches you enter a room. That's a first move if I've ever seen one." She gestured to the woman on the opposite side of the bed. "Take that dress, for instance. Or those shoes. Not to mention the hair. You're dressed for a dinner party or a night out on the town, not a homicide scene."

"And you don't," Sylvia threw right back at her, "in your hot red suit and sa.s.sy Mary Janes with their four inch heels? I don't see any of the other division chiefs dressing that way."

Well. She had Jess there. Dammit. It was her one vanity. She liked clothes and shoes and her bag. But she wasn't trying to get attention... she was just.... It was not the same thing.

Sylvia lifted her chin, pretending to recheck the thermometer. "Be advised, Harris, if you think this is how I dress to go out, you are sadly mistaken."

Jess resisted the urge to grab that d.a.m.ned thermometer and shove it where the sun didn't shine. "The point is someone's going to get hurt."

"Not in this situation," Sylvia argued. "This is a mutual decision by intelligent, consenting adults."

"Ha!" Jess leaned toward Sylvia, shook her finger at her. "He is not an adult when it comes to that. Men never are until they're at least thirty-five!"

A throat was cleared. She and Sylvia glared at the sound. Lieutenant Hayes, the perpetrator, jerked his head toward the two forensic techs. Both appeared to be busy with their work but apparently had been paying more attention to the exchange over the dead body in the room than the collecting of evidence.

"Judging by the body temp and the state of rigor," Sylvia announced as if they hadn't just waged war over a corpse, "I would estimate time of death between ten last night and one this morning. Since the air conditioning in the room is less than adequate for the heat we've experienced today, that time may be off a little."

Jess squared her shoulders. "Thank you, Dr. Baron. I look forward to your preliminary exam results as soon as possible."

Sylvia faked a smile. "Of course, Chief Harris. I'll get the report to you later tonight or first thing in the morning, depending on my schedule."

Jess turned her back and headed out of the room. She didn't have to wonder if Hayes followed. He was already too well trained to allow her out of his sight.

Outside the door, Jess paused long enough to rip off her shoe covers and gloves. Dan closed his phone and headed toward her. He looked furious. Briefly she wondered what had happened now, but mostly she thanked G.o.d he hadn't witnessed the fiasco that would no doubt be all over the department's grapevine before dark.

"I have a meeting with Black. Are you heading back to the office now?"

"Lieutenant Hayes and I will be along after we finish up here." She exhaled a big breath and tried to calm herself.

Dan gave her a nod. His eyes told her he wanted to do more but couldn't. They were on the job and Jess had already allowed her professional composure to slip with Sylvia. Why was it after a confrontation like that occurred, within mere minutes all the fire and conviction she'd experienced suddenly evaporated.

Now she just felt like a fool.

"Don't let her out of your sight, Lieutenant," Dan said to Hayes.

Under normal circ.u.mstances Jess would have scolded him for the comment, but he was right. She scanned the many windows and doors around the courtyard. There were far too many opportunities for someone to get too close.

As she watched Dan walk away, wishing he would take the same precautions, she made him a silent promise.

Tonight she was going to tell him about the baby.

19.

Birmingham Police Department, 6:15 p.m.