Wren Delacroix Series Box Set Page 25

  “Right,” he said, nodding. “It’s totally normal to feel guilty or to be a little off kilter.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’ve been teasing you about the profile—”

  “I’m fine, Reilly.”

  He settled back on his bar stool and took a long drink of his beer.

  She snagged her beer.

  Several long, silent moments passed between them.

  “Okay,” said Reilly. “Sorry.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  And then it was quiet again.

  “So, um, my wife is getting married,” said Reilly. He winced. “My ex-wife.”

  “Oh,” said Wren. “Uh, how do you feel about that?”

  “I’m pissed off.” He took a drink of beer.

  “Sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t be.” He turned back to Wren. “I don’t even know why I am. It’s stupid. I should be fine with her moving on, but it’s so soon, you know. I haven’t moved on.”

  Wren raised her eyebrows.

  He looked down at his drink. “It’s not the same.”

  “You and Maliah are sleeping together, so, it kind of seems like you’ve moved on.”

  “It’s not like it’s an on-going thing,” said Reilly. “We did sleep together. In the past.”

  “And it’s never going to happen again?”

  “I…” Reilly shrugged. “She’s still married.”

  “Yeah, so I hear.” She cocked her head. “But if Maliah left her husband, would you want that with her?”

  Reilly finished his beer and set it down on the bar. “I don’t know.”

  “Well…” Wren gave him a half-smile. “I think it’s okay to be pissed off.”

  “Is it?” he said. “Even if it’s my fault that the marriage broke up in the first place? It’s hypocritical.”

  “Well, maybe.” She considered. “But you can’t help how you feel.”

  “Look.” He slid his phone across the bar to her. “That’s the guy.” He had seen a Facebook post, announcing the relationship status. Janessa’s fiance was named Garth Gardner. He was white. Not that Reilly cared about that. Didn’t mean anything. Didn’t matter.

  “He, um…” Wren cocked her head to one side. “You’re definitely more attractive than him.”

  Reilly suddenly burst out laughing.

  “What?” said Wren, but she was grinning. Soon, she was laughing too.

  “So, you’ve been checking me out, then?”

  “What?” Wren was blushing. “No. I just… you know, objectively speaking. Like you’ve never considered if I’m attractive?”

  He looked away. “All right, all right, whatever.”

  “Oh, so you haven’t?” Wren picked up her beer. “I guess you think I’m butt ugly.”

  “Hey!” He spread his hands. “No fair. Yes, okay, I have considered your objective attractiveness.”

  “And?”

  “And, you’re too good for Hawk Marner.”

  She looked down.

  It was quiet again.

  Damn it, why had he said that? He rapped his knuckles against the bar, looking around for the bartender.

  “Uh, speaking of marriages, my dad is getting married.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He turned back to her, happy of the subject change.

  “Yeah, he called me and told me the news today,” she said. “I don’t know if I told you, but my dad is gay, so it’s a big deal. They couldn’t get married even a few years ago, so it’s, you know, really cool.”

  “It is,” he said, grinning. “You never talk about your family.”

  “Neither do you,” she said.

  “Well, you know, it’s… sometimes it’s hard.”

  She nodded. “Because of your mother. Sorry, I forgot.”

  “I told you?”

  “Yeah, that she was killed by Mark Quentin Rhoads,” she said.

  “Right, you told me you interviewed him.”

  “I should have never said that. It was such a shitty thing to say.”

  “No, it’s fine,” said Reilly. “It’s really—”

  “Something’s wrong with me,” she said. “When I hear about crimes, I don’t always think about victims and their families and sometimes I wonder if I inherited some kind of horrible legacy from my mother.”

  “Hey, no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to make you think anything like that.”

  “I really am fine about Kyler Morris,” she said. “Like really fine. Like it didn’t bother me at all. Not at all.”

  He swallowed.

  “Shit,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want…” She downed her beer and set it down.

  “Hey, Wren, come on. Morris was a piece of shit. Don’t waste any time on him, okay?”

  She sniffed. “Yeah, okay.”

  A brief silence.

  “So,” Reilly said. “I’m going to get another round, and—” His phone was ringing. He pulled it out. He grimaced.

  “What?” she said.

  He put the phone to his ear. “Reilly.”

  “Hi there, Detective Reilly,” said the voice on the other end. “Bad news here, I’m afraid. We’ve got ourselves another body.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Wren stood at the end of the table in the school library and stared at the body that had been laid out there. She was completely flummoxed. Nothing made sense. This body was naked, like the last body had been, but it was in a further state of decay. The victim had been dead for at least a week, and the skin was mottled and gray, bloated in some places. The body hardly looked human anymore.

  It was arranged spread eagle on the table, arms above the head. The hair had been pulled over one shoulder, splayed out over one of her breasts.

  This body was arranged.

  The last body hadn’t been.

  “Hey.” Reilly was at her shoulder.

  She turned to look at him. “Hey. We sure this is the same guy?”

  “Maybe not,” said Reilly. “You said there could be two killers. But the bullet, it looks like it could have come from the same handgun. And apparently, there’s vaginal and anal trauma, like with the last one. Looks like she was penetrated by an object.”

  “Huh,” said Wren.

  “Get this, though,” said Reilly. “They’re saying that the penetrating was done after rigor mortis set in the on the body. They can tell because of the way the trauma presents itself on the body. So, that’s a few hours after death.”

  “Really?” Wren looked at him.

  “Yeah,” said Reilly.

  “What the fuck?” said Wren.

  “Right,” said Reilly. “He killed her, then sat around with her for several hours, let her get stiff, and then decided it was time to rape the corpse. What’s that say to you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Wren. “I don’t know.” She folded her arms over her chest. “This scene is nothing like the last scene.”

  Reilly surveyed it, nodding. “No, you’re right, it’s not.”

  “And can they confirm that this girl was killed first?”

  “Oh, sure looks that way,” said Reilly.

  “So, he’s had her stashed someplace,” said Wren. “He’s had her stashed, but the other girl, he kills, rapes, and leaves. This one he lays out in a place that’s different from where the crime took place.”

  “Ooh,” said Reilly. “That’s an organized thing, right? Moving the body instead of leaving it at the scene?”

  “Yes,” said Wren. “And he posed it. He’s both disorganized and organized at the same time. My professors at the Academy would have a field day.”

  “Well, you know, we could maybe get a profile,” said Reilly. “We could submit to the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

  “I can do it,” said Wren. “I’ll figure it out. You keep saying you don’t want to put pressure on me, but then everything out of your mouth is pressure.”

  Reilly raised both of his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.�
��

  Wren looked back at the body. She sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess I just feel confused.”

  “Hey, I’m with you,” said Reilly.

  “You know, earlier, I had a voicemail, and I worried it was going to be you, telling me there was another body. But I told myself there would probably be a cooling-off period, because we’d moved out of the window for a spree killer, and he’d probably wait a while. But he didn’t. Or, more accurately, he started earlier than we thought.” She sighed. “Oh, hell, I feel awful. What do we know about the victim?”

  “Megan Wallace. Another high school student,” said Reilly. “She’s been missing for a few weeks, but no one reported it, because apparently, she lives on her own. She’s an emancipated minor. Bad home life, apparently. Mother’s been in and out of jail for prostitution and drugs for years.”

  “Aw, hell.” Wren’s shoulders sagged. “What a life. To go through all that, to finally get out from under her past, and then…” She drew in a shaky breath.

  “Hey,” said Reilly. “You okay?”

  Wren clenched her hands into fists. “I want to catch him before he does this again, Reilly.”

  “You and me both.”

  * * *

  “See, that’s where it all gets really weird for me,” said Reilly as he and Wren stepped into the Daily Bean. They’d been up all night with the crime scene and the body, and now the coffee shop was opening. It was just after dawn. “I can understand wanting to have sex with a corpse, but—”

  “You can?” Wren gave him a disbelieving look.

  “No, I can’t.” He flinched. “That’s not what I meant. I need coffee.” He stepped up to the counter. “Hey, Angela.”

  “Hey,” said Angela, the barista. “Good morning. Triple shot ginger latte?”

  “You know it,” said Reilly.

  “And for you, Wren?” asked Angela.

  “Um… I’m going to try that coconut chocolate thing on the specials board. But can you make that a triple shot, too?”

  “I sure can,” said Angela. “You’re going to love it. I shaved the dark chocolate myself.”

  “Sounds delicious,” said Wren. She turned back to Reilly. “Why would you say that about sex with a corpse?”

  “I’m just saying, you know, if I’m going to rape someone, I can see why I’d want to kill her first, because then there’s less, you know, struggle and everything. It’s easier to deal with. And I’m going to have to kill her anyway, because she’s seen my face, so… okay, I get it.”

  “Right, I see what you mean,” said Wren. “I mean, that does make sense.”

  “But,” said Reilly, “I don’t really understand using an object for the penetration.”

  “Well, he might be impotent,” said Wren.

  Reilly considered. “Okay, that could be. I get that. So, he wants to rape her, but he can’t get it going.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But the rigor mortis thing, I mean that’s just…” He threw up his hands. “I don’t get that at all.”

  Angela made a funny noise on the other side of the counter.

  Reilly exchanged a look with Wren.

  She cringed.

  Reilly cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, Angela.”

  “It’s fine,” said Angela in a tiny voice.

  Reilly held up a finger. “We’ll finish this conversation in the car.”

  “Sorry,” said Wren.

  “Really,” said Angela, “I’m okay.”

  “No, I mean, we shouldn’t be discussing it,” said Wren. “It’s sensitive police business.”

  “No, we really shouldn’t,” said Reilly.

  They waited as Angela made the drinks.

  She put them on a counter a few minutes later.

  They paid.

  They went back out to the car.

  “So,” said Wren as she pulled the door closed behind herself, “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “About what?”

  “The rigor mortis thing,” she said.

  “Okay,” said Reilly.

  “Um, so this is his first victim,” she said. “I mean, he killed her before he killed Bristol.”

  “Yes,” said Reilly.

  “So, maybe it took him a while to work up to being able to, you know, get the courage to do the raping. So, he sat there with the corpse, maybe trying to get an erection?”

  “Oh, gross,” said Reilly. “But I guess that might make sense. Eventually, he just can’t, so he uses something else, calls it good.”

  “And then he’s established his method, so next time, it goes more smoothly,” said Wren.

  Reilly nodded. “You’re brilliant, Delacroix.” He winked at her.

  She lifted her chin. “I have my moments.”

  Reilly started the car. He pulled out of the parking lot. “Does that help us?”

  “I don’t know,” said Wren. “Because I still can’t figure out why he posed this body and didn’t pose the last one.”

  “Yeah, that’s all kinds of weird, huh?”

  “Well, if we go back to the two-killer theory—”

  “Which blows all this discussion we’ve been having of impotence and stuff to hell, right? Because one killer who can’t get it up, okay, but two?”

  “Well, maybe they’re doing it together, and they’ve got some kind of homophobic panic about it, so they settle on the shovel handle because they don’t have to see each other’s dicks.”

  “Also a possibility,” said Reilly, staring out at the road as he drove.

  “Hey, speaking of which, did we ever get back the analysis on the mop and broom handles at the school?”

  “Not a match,” said Reilly.

  “So, probably not the janitor.”

  “Well, it doesn’t prove anything one way or the other,” said Reilly.

  Wren took a drink of her coffee, which was as delicious as Angela had promised. “If it’s two killers, I still haven’t established the relationship between them, how any of it’s working… I don’t know. I’m nowhere, Reilly. I’m seriously blowing smoke up my own ass.”

  “Calm down,” said Reilly. “Drink your coffee. Caffeine will bring clarity.”

  She snorted.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “We’ve been up all night, and we were drinking alcohol when we were called in. We’re not at optimal performance here.”

  “Maybe he did leave Megan Wallace where he killed her, but no one found her,” said Wren. “So, he moved her, because he wanted her found.”

  “Could be.”

  “But no, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Because of the videos,” said Reilly. “If he wanted the body found, why not just make another video telling where the body was?”

  “Yeah,” said Wren. “And why a video for the second but not the first, and…” She shut her eyes. “I’m getting a headache. I really am.”

  “Maybe he’s going to make another video,” said Reilly. “I should call Frederick, see if they can get someone to go check out the building. Maybe we catch him this time.”

  “Yeah, good thought,” said Wren.

  * * *

  “I found the video,” said Maliah when they entered headquarters.

  Wren was sipping her coffee. “Good morning, Maliah. How are you doing?”

  Maliah gave her a withering look. “Yeah, I could waste time on shit like that, or we could get down to brass tacks. The killer uploaded a video to the same YouTube account. I’ve been keeping tabs on it. I traced the IP. It was uploaded in the high school library.”

  “At the scene where the body was laid out?” said Reilly.

  “Yeah, that’s where he filmed the video,” said Maliah. “You want to watch?”

  “You got it up on your computer in your office?” said Reilly.

  Maliah motioned with her head.

  They trooped down the hallway and into her office. Maliah sat down in her desk chair. Wren and Reilly scooted around
behind her to look down at the screen over her shoulder. She pulled up the video.

  It was the same figure as before, in a hooded sweatshirt. This time, he hadn’t managed the lighting from behind so well, and it was obvious that he was wearing something over his face. It was black, and there were no holes for the eyes or nose or mouth, just black fabric. As before, his voice was digitally distorted.

  He stood in front of the table where the body had been laid out. The feet of the girl were in the frame.

  “I promised that the first body would not be the last, and now I have killed again. As I predicted, the police and authorities have no clue. They aren’t even close to catching me. No one knows who I am and no one can stop me. I am imbued with the same spirit that fueled the killers of this region. I am driven by the legacy of David Song and Lucas John Jackson and Oscar Robinson. I am full of the power of the Horned Lord. I am the knife in the darkness. I am the rage in the fire. This is not the end. I will not stop. I will kill and kill again.”

  The screen went blank and then a K appeared.

  Then the video ended.

  “Well, that was basically a rehash of the last video,” said Reilly. “Just in a new location. He’s still doing the hyperbolic thing, taunting the authorities.”

  “Didn’t say anything about the CIA this time, though,” said Wren. “He also mentioned the Horned Lord.”

  Reilly turned to her. “You think that’s significant?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.” It had given her chills, if she was honest. She didn’t know why the strange deity from her childhood still creeped her out so much, but it did.

  “He signed with a K again, too,” said Reilly. “You think that stands for anything?”

  “Maybe something generic, like ‘kill,’” said Wren. “He could be taking a page from the BTK killer, only simplifying it.”

  “So, does this video tell us anything new?” said Reilly, moving back around to the front of Maliah’s desk.

  “He has the password to the school’s Wi-Fi,” said Maliah.

  “And,” said Wren, following Reilly out from behind the desk, “he has access to the school.”

  “Well, of the list of people close to Bristol who had access to a handgun, all had access to the school,” said Reilly.