Vicious: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 7 Page 11

  “Not to mention,” Harper cut in, “if they were looking to make money, they left a whole hell of a lot at the scene. Like kidneys.”

  Jess turned back to the board. The woman who dared to show her face looked young, early twenties maybe. “Templeton and Burgess may have been their first kills.”

  “What makes you lean in that direction?” Hayes asked.

  “Their work was sloppier the first time,” Harper explained, obviously enjoying the opportunity to show up the lieutenant. “The crime scene looked somewhat the same, but a closer inspection of the way they butchered the chests of the two female victims indicates they had a harder time removing the hearts that first time. With Thomas they knew what they were doing. The work was a little cleaner.”

  “That only suggests they hadn’t removed a human heart before,” the lieutenant countered, “not that they hadn’t taken a life.”

  Jess and Lori exchanged a look.

  Harper crossed his arms over his chest. “When you’ve worked as many homicide scenes as I have, you’ll understand.”

  Jess hoped these two weren’t planning to waste time in a pissing contest.

  “What’s to understand?” Hayes folded his arms over his chest in a mocking manner.

  “The killers hurried from the scene,” Jess interjected. “They didn’t close the door much less lock it.” She turned back to the photo. “They were excited and terrified at the same time. They couldn’t believe they’d done it. But they weren’t in a hurry after last night’s murder. Now they’re feeling brave. Cocky. This time they enjoyed all the excitement without the fear.”

  Harper’s lips twisted in a little smirk of victory.

  Hayes would learn this wasn’t as easy as experienced detectives like Harper and Wells made it appear. “What kind of motives are we looking at?” Jess asked, moving on.

  “Since we don’t know the identities of the killers, we can’t prove a personal connection,” Lori said.

  “Even without a distinct personal connection,” Harper added, “could be envy or revenge.”

  Hayes pushed off from his desk and moved toward the case board. “But isn’t the personal nature of these murders right in front of us?”

  “The objective may have been to humiliate the victims,” Lori pointed out. “When I was abducted by Matthew Reed, Eric Spears’s protégé, he wanted to scare me… to humiliate me the same way he did the other women he abducted. To anyone analyzing his actions, what he did to us appeared very personal but it wasn’t. We were the pawns he used to make a statement. Humiliating and scaring us was just for his personal entertainment.”

  “One of the women,” Jess said, the images Lori’s words prompted playing rapid fire in her head, “was a federal agent. When she tried to escape, he cut off her hands and feet. She died as a result of those injuries.”

  Silence thickened in the room.

  “Some people are just screwed up,” Harper muttered.

  Jess shifted her attention back to the case at hand. She glanced at the window beyond her desk. “What about all those cameras the mayor had installed? Any chance we can pick up these two suspects on any of those?” The cameras had certainly helped save Jess a couple of weeks ago.

  Lori shook her head. “I already checked. There’s one in that area, but the angle isn’t right.”

  The door opened, breaking the tension, and Cook strolled in. “It took a while,” he said as he waved the pages in his hand, “but I dug up the names all the way back to when the house on Raleigh was built.”

  “Leave it on my desk,” Jess instructed. She didn’t want to discuss her theory with the team until she’d had a look at the list herself.

  Cook dropped most of the pages on her desk, and then waved the one he’d held onto. “I also picked up some preliminary results on our latest vic from the ME.”

  “You went by the morgue?” Harper asked the question on the tip of Jess’s tongue.

  Cook’s head moved up and down, his expression full of enthusiasm. “She called me. Told me to come by and pick it up.” His face fell. “Was I not supposed to do that?” He looked from Harper to Jess.

  “You did the right thing, of course.” Jess reached for the report. “I’m just surprised Dr. Baron had anything to share this quickly.” She and Sylvia needed to talk. It was one thing for Cook in his foolish youth to lust after the ME, but Sylvia was old enough to know better. What was going on in that woman’s head?

  Jess scanned the preliminary report. Nothing Sylvia couldn’t have passed along over the phone as she had many times before. “No indication Thomas engaged in sex before his murder,” Jess said, passing along the results. “His alcohol levels show he was considerably intoxicated at TOD. Dr. Baron does not believe the stun gun caused his death and more results are coming.”

  Jess passed the report to Lori. “Let’s check with neighbors at both scenes and see if anyone recognizes the blonde. Run her photo past the friends of the victims. Maybe someone will recognize her.”

  With her team divvying up the tasks, Jess took her seat and reviewed the list Cook had dug up for her. The names were in reverse chronological order, starting with the present owner.

  The first few pages were listings of tenants. Poor Cook had had his work cut out for him. He’d contacted each landlord for the names of their tenants, and he’d still turned the task around in record time. Not one name on the list was familiar to Jess. Fifteen years ago the house had been owner occupied rather than a rental. That same scenario proved the case from that point all the way back to when it was built.

  Jess reached the name of the family who’d built the house and her stomach took a dive.

  Paul and Wanda Newsom.

  Her aunt and her husband had built the house where Templeton and Burgess were murdered?

  For several seconds Jess could do nothing but allow the information to digest. This was exactly what she’d hoped Cook wouldn’t find.

  More than a little shaken, she stood. “I think I’m going out for lunch.” She shoved the page into her bag and readied to go. She needed to speak to her aunt. There had to be a mistake.

  It wasn’t until Jess looked up that she noticed everyone staring at her.

  Ignoring the questioning looks, she said to Hayes, “Lieutenant, it’s your turn to play chauffer.”

  Jess felt Lori’s eyes on her as she left the office. She couldn’t look back. Couldn’t say anything to her friends. If what she suspected was true, any friend of hers was in far more danger than they could possibly comprehend.

  Druid Hills, 12:20 p.m.

  “That’s the one.” Jess stared at the house where her aunt had lived for more than thirty years. The house was clad in dingy white siding. At least the lawn was freshly mown. The last time Jess had driven by the grass was ankle deep.

  How she had hated this place. For months she and Lily had been angry with their parents for dying and leaving them with nowhere to go but this hellhole with an aunt who spent what little money she had on booze and most of her nights on her back under a different John. Not once had she done a single thing to help two young girls devastated by the loss of everything they knew and loved. The aunt the court had relied upon to see after Helen Harris’s children had already spiraled so far downhill that she’d hit rock bottom.

  Not any more. Now Wanda Newsom had God.

  “Do you want to go in?”

  Jess flinched at the sound of the lieutenant’s voice. For the life of her, she couldn’t stay on point with a damned thing. “Yes.” She steeled herself for the battle with her newest team member. “I’ll need you to wait out here, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He reached for the door handle.

  “I wasn’t asking you, Lieutenant.” She was not debating this with him or anyone else. “You can watch me from here.” Damn Spears. Damn this whole damned situation! People were dying and she couldn’t stop it. The weight on her chest multiplied by a thousand. She felt like the guy in that commercial w
ith the elephant on his chest. “Just like the uniform sitting in that cruiser ten yards behind us.”

  She was so sick of this!

  “How about I walk you to the door, have a look inside, and then I’ll wait on the porch.” He sent her a sideways glance over the top of the Ray-Bans he wore. “Does that work for you?”

  She bit her tongue. Jess reminded herself that he was right and she was wrong. Her emotions were controlling her instead of the other way around. They were keeping her distracted and hampering reason. She needed someone watching her back. He was here to do that.

  “Fine.”

  Hayes emerged from the car, surveyed the neighborhood, and walked around to her side. He opened the door and she got out. As difficult as it was to admit that she wasn’t fully capable of protecting herself at the moment, it was true. Her detectives intended to keep her safe. She appreciated their efforts.

  Somehow that admission didn’t make her feel one iota better.

  “Thank you.” Jess braced herself again, only this time for facing her aunt. She ran a hand through her hair and smoothed the front of her skirt. The sooner she had this over with the better. Since Wanda’s ancient Toyota was in the drive, Jess presumed she was home.

  Hayes knocked twice before the door cracked open. Jess leaned toward the narrow opening. “I need to speak with you.” Her voice sounded thin and a little high pitched.

  “Jessie Lee?” Wanda drew back the door. She looked up at the man beside Jess. Her forehead furrowed in confusion.

  “Lieutenant Clint Hayes, Ms. Newsom,” he announced. “I’ll just need to come inside with Chief Harris and have a look around.”

  How did he know her aunt’s name? Maybe Lori had told him. That was another feeling Jess didn’t like—the one where you knew everyone was talking about you and not to you.

  “Come on in.” Wanda shuffled back, drawing the door open wide. “There’s nobody here but me.”

  “It’s just a precaution, ma’am.”

  “Well, all right.” She closed the door after them and stood in the middle of the room wringing her hands.

  Jess waited impatiently as Hayes walked through the small house. She wasn’t saying a word until he was outside. If there was nothing to this, then there was no need to share it with the world.

  The smell of fried chicken lingered in the air, invading Jess’s senses. Her stomach rumbled. Wanda glanced at her. Jess wished the floor would open and swallow her. She didn’t know why she cared what this woman thought of her or her stomach.

  “The house is clear,” Hayes announced as he reentered the room. “I’ll be right outside, Chief.”

  Jess waited until he closed the front door behind him and then she turned to Wanda. “I have a few questions.”

  “Here.” Wanda hurried to move the newspapers spread across the sofa. “Sit down, Jessie Lee. Anything you want to ask is fine by me. Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Thank you, no. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “You don’t have time to sit for a minute?”

  Jess looked at her aunt. Really looked at her for the first time since returning to Birmingham. Until recently, she hadn’t seen the woman in over thirty years. Wanda Newsom looked old, far older than her sixty-some years. The drugs and alcohol had taken a toll. Not to mention she’d probably suffered every STD known to man.

  Jess’s stomach started that frustrating churning again. Her knees felt weak. If she didn’t sit down she would likely regret it.

  “I guess I have a minute.” She perched on the edge of the sofa. Wanda took a seat in a well-worn chair to Jess’s right.

  “What is it you want to talk about? Is it about your father and what I told you? It’s the God’s truth. I—”

  “It’s not about that.” The anticipation in the older woman’s eyes made Jess look away. Whatever hopes Wanda had that one day Jess would forgive her and they could be friends was a waste of energy.

  “When did you move into this house?” Jess asked, turning back to the woman once more.

  “After my Paul died, I couldn’t afford the payments on the house we built. I wandered from pillar to post for a few years. Eventually I got this place.” She glanced around the room. “It’s not much but it’s home.”

  Dread coiled in Jess’s belly.

  “We didn’t have any children so at just twenty-two I wasn’t entitled to social security benefits. I didn’t know how to do a thing. I’d never had a job besides being a wife.” She shook her head and made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I was a mess. The good Lord is the only reason I survived those years.”

  Marshaling all her powers of restraint, Jess managed to not roll her eyes or say anything unpleasant.

  “We had all these plans,” Wanda went on. “He was going to build me a white picket fence. My job was to stay at home and have babies.” She blinked rapidly at the moisture shining in her eyes. “But I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Life can be that way sometimes.” That was the closest thing to sympathy Jess had to offer. “Where was this house you and your husband built?” She held her breath.

  “It was over on Raleigh Avenue in Homewood. It was the neatest little thing. There were just two bedrooms but it was all we needed. At the time there were lots of other young couples just starting out in the neighborhood.”

  Jess needed to breathe but somehow the air wouldn’t go into her lungs. Her eyes burned but she refused to cry.

  “You wouldn’t remember, but your mother and Lily were staying with me when she went into labor with you.”

  Air rushed into Jess’s lungs. “Why were they staying with you?”

  “Your father was out of town.” Wanda shook her head. “He was always out of town. Anyway, Helen knew her time was close. Since she’d delivered Lily so cotton pickin’ fast she didn’t want to be alone that night. She had a feeling you were coming.”

  Emotion flooded her and Jess licked her lips to conceal their trembling. “So, you drove my mother to the hospital?”

  Wanda wagged her head side to side. “No sirree. Once you started coming you didn’t want to wait. I called an ambulance but by the time they got there, you were already in my hands.” Wanda brushed back tears even as she laughed. “Popped right out of there with your eyes wide open and screaming at the top of your lungs in indignation.”

  “I was born in that house?” Jess knew the answer, for Pete’s sake. The woman had just told her but somehow the reality of it wouldn’t sink into her brain. Her body had gone ice cold.

  “You most certainly were. In the bigger of the two bedrooms, right there on the bed your Uncle Paul worked an hour overtime every day for months to pay off.”

  Jess pushed to her feet, the air she’d managed to drag in rushing just as quickly out of her. “Thank you for your time. I have to get back to the office.”

  Her head was spinning. Spears had found a new way to use her as a catalyst for murder. Selecting people based on locations and events in her life.

  “What’s this about?” Wanda asked. “Is something wrong?”

  As if he’d had one ear to the door, it opened and Hayes walked in. “We ready to go, Chief?”

  “Has she had lunch?” Wanda asked. “I think she needs to eat. She looks a little pale.”

  “I’m fine.” Jess cleared her throat. She really could use a cold glass of water. Anywhere but here. “I’m ready, Lieutenant.”

  “I hate to see you run off like this,” Wanda persisted. “I just fried a whole chicken. Cooked up mashed potatoes and green beans. I’ll never be able to eat all that myself.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I love fried chicken,” Hayes said, abruptly cutting Jess off. He flashed that charming smile of his at Wanda. “I don’t know about the chief, but I’m starving.”

  Jess wanted to kick him. She just wanted out of here! What the hell did he think he was doing?

  Wanda grinned. “Well good. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll pour up the iced
tea.”

  Jess shot the lieutenant a glare. He had the audacity to smile.

  Still steaming, Jess settled at the table that looked as worse for wear as the ones in the BPD interview rooms. She considered the many ways she could make Hayes pay for this. All the while he kept the conversation going with Wanda.

  No wonder the man had done so well as a gigolo, he could charm anyone. Or maybe the two felt a kinship since Wanda had spent most of her adult life as a low rent prostitute.

  Guilt overwhelmed Jess. One of these days she was going to have to give the woman a break whether she wanted to or not. Maybe she had done the best she could. Jess banished the crazy thoughts whirling around in her head. Some other time she could sort all that out.

  A glass appeared in front of her. Jess managed a smile for her aunt even though she felt like running out of the room screaming. The iced tea cooled her throat, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, tasted good.

  “You should like this chicken, Jessie Lee,” Wanda placed a drumstick on Jess’s place, “your mother taught me how to fry chicken. All these fancy cooks you see on TV got nothing on Helen Harris.”

  Maybe it was the idea that the chicken was her mother’s recipe, whatever the reason Jess found herself nibbling on the chicken leg. The breading was amazingly crisp, but the meat beneath was tender and juicy.

  “Told you it was good.”

  Jess looked up. Wanda and Hayes were watching her, smirks on their faces. “It is.” Jess dabbed at her lips with a paper napkin. Whether she had moaned out loud, or just the fact that she was devouring the chicken that drew their attention, she couldn’t say. “Delicious. Really… delicious.”

  By the time Jess pushed away from the table, to say she was stuffed was putting it mildly. “That was—”

  “Incredible,” Hayes finished for her. “I don’t think I’ve eaten that much since the last time I had Sunday dinner at my grandmother’s house.”

  Wanda insisted the lieutenant was welcome to have Sunday dinner with her any time. “You too, Jessie Lee.” The hope in her expression was undeniable.