Vicious: The Faces of Evil Series: Book 7 Page 3

  Back in the hallway, a few more steps brought them to the second of the two bedrooms. It was this slightly larger room where the final act in two lives had played out. Jess braced herself.

  “No one’s been in here yet except for the responding officers and then me.”

  Harper’s voice sounded far away as Jess stared at the scene, her mind centering completely on the grotesque images.

  Both victims were naked and restrained. Jess moved toward the first. She lay supine on the bed. Braided nylon ropes secured her wrists and ankles to the brass bedposts. A sex toy intended for giving a partner pleasure was fastened across her pelvis. Around her neck, a leather strap was pulled tight. The way her eyes bulged and the open mouth suggested asphyxiation. Then there was the pièce de résistance—a gapping hole in the center of her chest.

  “Alisha Burgess, twenty-six. School teacher.” Harper waited at the foot of the bed. “No criminal record.”

  Burgess had dark blond hair. She was tall and thin. Her finger and toenails were well manicured. Her body was lean and toned.

  Jess shifted her attention to the final act of depravity committed by the killer, the one that told far more about him or her than anything else in the room. The victim’s chest had been opened in a savage, primitive manner. A number of tools—hammer, box cutter, hatchet and pry bar—had been used to hack open her ribcage and then abandoned haphazardly around the room. Was this killer just careless or totally arrogant?

  The lack of arterial spray confirmed the damage to the chest had been done after the heart stopped beating. At least the vic hadn’t suffered that horror before taking her last breath.

  Leaning closer, Jess’s stomach did a warning flip-flop even as her throat tightened. “Her heart is missing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If either one is here, we haven’t found them.”

  A generic list of motives for removing a victim’s heart immediately cataloged in Jess’s thoughts. Jealousy. Regret. Hatred. She moved around the bed and to the other side of the room to get a better look at the second victim whose body hung in front of the the closet doors. The doors were a set of bi-fold louvered ones about four, maybe five feet wide. Wrist shackles had been mounted to the wood facing on either side.

  At least one of the two women was no novice at sex games.

  To each her own.

  The second vic was tall and slender as well, with long auburn hair. She hung by her wrists, her head lolled to one side and dropped back as if she were staring heavenward.

  “Lisa Templeton,” Harper said. “Twenty-seven. She was a manager at an adult entertainment shop over on Valley Avenue.”

  Whatever her cause of death, which wasn’t readily discernible, Templeton’s heart, like her roommate’s, had been excavated from her chest. There was more blood but not arterial spray. Gravity had drained a good portion from her body. Blood had spread across the hardwood floor.

  That tightening in her belly warned Jess again. She hadn’t barfed at a crime scene in twenty years, but being pregnant wasn’t going to make this part of her work easy.

  Templeton’s wrists didn’t bear the markings of a prisoner who had attempted to escape her bonds and her feet were unrestrained. What had prevented her from fighting her killer? Jess scanned the body for some indication of cause of death. The state of rigor and visible lividity in both bodies indicated death had occurred more than a few hours ago.

  Templeton’s eyes bulged and her mouth was open but there were no ligature marks on the neck or any other indication of strangulation on the throat or face. Jess dug a penlight from her bag. She needed a look into Templeton’s throat, but that wasn’t possible without a stepladder.

  “I’ll grab a chair from the kitchen,” Harper offered, recognizing her problem.

  “Thanks, Sergeant.”

  While he hurried back to the kitchen, Jess worked at calming her stomach’s reaction to the scene. These two women needed her on her toes. No one deserved to die in such a vicious manner.

  Harper returned with the chair. “ME’s here.”

  “Just in time,” Jess muttered as she climbed up onto the chair’s wooden seat. The victim was in full rigor, but her mouth was wide open. Jess aimed the light into her throat and immediately spotted what she imagined would prove to be the cause of death. Something neon pink and possibly plastic or rubber had been jammed deep into the woman’s throat. “Well that explains the asphyxiation.”

  Harper helped Jess down. However experienced these women were at sex games, their ménage-a-trois or whatever it was, had taken a wrong turn.

  “Sergeant, check with Detective Wells and see if we know yet who these ladies left the club with last night. We need names and descriptions, if possible, of anyone who left about the same time they did.” Jess considered the room again. “We need to know who they partied with on a regular basis.” She exhaled, wished she could exorcise the smell of rotting blood from her lungs. “Let’s start with Templeton’s coworker.”

  “You want to question her here?”

  By now neighbors would be gathering near the police blockade. Reporters would be growing impatient. “Let’s take her downtown. Also, locate the landlord and find out how long the ladies have lived here and if there’s been any trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Even in the bedroom there were few personal touches in the home. No family photos on the walls. Had these two just moved in?

  “Well this is interesting,” a female voice announced from the door.

  Jess turned to greet the medical examiner. No matter the hour, Sylvia Baron never showed up to the party looking anything but her best. Tonight she’d outdone herself. Black sheath and glossy pearls. Maybe she’d had a date.

  “Sometimes dating can be hell.” Jess presented the medical examiner with a smile.

  “That’s why I only date men I’ve properly vetted.” Sylvia entered the room and prepared to do her part for the victims. She would provide a preliminary time and manner of death—not that there was much question as to the manner.

  “I’ll make that call to Detective Wells,” Harper said before making himself scarce.

  Sylvia had a reputation for rubbing folks the wrong way. Most cops preferred to steer clear of Jefferson County’s deputy coroner. Jess had sort of gotten used to her, considered her a friend. Kind of.

  “Did you learn anything in Knoxville?” Sylvia asked as she set to her task of examining Alisha Burgess.

  “Not as much as I’d hoped.” Unfortunately, that was the ugly truth. They were no closer to catching Spears than before. Just because he’d been in Birmingham three days ago didn’t mean he was here now. And just because one of his minions had held three women captive for more than a week near Gatlinburg, Tennessee, didn’t mean he’d ever been there.

  What they had boiled down to nothing except a missing woman and a freak show of followers who had been talking about Jess on the Net and stalking her from a distance. She’d only picked up on one stalker but judging by the photos of her all over the Net, there were a whole lot more than one.

  “That’s a shame,” Sylvia remarked.

  Jess couldn’t agree with her more. “The Bureau still has nothing. Feels like we’re all just running around in circles.” Worry gnawed at her again.

  “That’s too bad, but I meant it’s a shame for you,” Sylvia explained. “I heard Mayor Pratt’s received several requests from concerned citizens who think you should be run out of town before your obsessed serial killer can murder anymore of Birmingham’s citizens.”

  “Aren’t you sweet to keep me informed like this?”

  Sylvia sent her a look. “What’re friends for?”

  4

  Dunbrooke Drive, Mountain Brook

  Tuesday, August 24, 7:15 a.m.

  Jess arched her back as she tugged the zipper of her dress into place, then she studied her reflection. The turquoise dress she’d had for ages still fit the same. She didn’t look any different, not really. Well, other than the g
laring dark circles under her eyes from working until two this morning and managing less than three hours sleep.

  Slogging through murder scenes and interrogating witnesses and killers alike was her job. Her body rebelled regularly at her consistent abuse. Just as regularly, she ignored the nuisance. After all, murder rarely stuck to a nine-to-five schedule or selected the most convenient places to occur.

  But everything was different now.

  She pressed her hand to her abdomen. “You really messed up this time, Jessie Lee.”

  Her chest felt suddenly too heavy. What was she thinking? Dan Burnett was the only man she had ever really loved. How could she equate carrying his child with messing up?

  She couldn’t. It was that simple.

  “Bad timing. That’s all.” She ran the brush through her hair, then stepped into her Mary Jane pumps and swung her bag onto her shoulder. She turned to the bathroom door but hesitated before opening it.

  Dan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He’d insisted she stay with him for now. Nothing new there. He’d been nagging at her practically from day one to move into his place. He wanted her near. He wanted to protect her and, she smiled, he loved her. So she’d grabbed a couple outfits and here she was.

  At any other time she would have fought him tooth and nail on the issue. Not because she didn’t want to be with him, she did, but his need to protect her spilled over into the workplace and that was a problem. At work, she needed him to treat her the same as he did the other deputy chiefs. How was she ever going to earn their respect otherwise?

  She had wrestled her way out of foster homes and through college to be an independent, capable woman who could take care of herself—who never again had to depend on anyone else for survival. Years of hard work and dedication to the career above all else had accomplished that goal. She needed him to respect her strength and ability as a woman and a cop.

  Though, she had to admit, lately she’d started to wonder if a good strong shoulder to lean on occasionally might be a good thing. Why fight the inevitable? She wanted this relationship, as long as they could juggle the personal and professional boundaries. So here she was living with the boss. She imagined every cop and staff member in the department had heard the news. Eventually, someone would complain, citing fraternization and unfair workplace practices. It could turn ugly.

  Jess groaned. Not even two months after leaving the Bureau her fresh start was already meandering down a bumpy road. As if that wasn’t head spinning enough, years of hard work at ridding herself of her southern vernacular had gone out the window. Just went to show the adage that you can take the girl out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the girl was painfully true.

  Oh well, there was just no keeping her life tidy.

  Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she reached for the door and headed for the kitchen before she could lose her nerve. She couldn’t stay holed up in the bathroom, there was work to be done and people counting on her.

  First, however, she had to get through breakfast and telling Dan they were pregnant. She’d needed a little time to recover from the shock of learning the news. Frankly, she was still reeling just a little but she had no right to keep this news from him any longer. He deserved to know he was going to be a father.

  That persistent ache deep beneath her sternum eased as anticipation fluttered in her belly. They were in this together. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he loved her. Dan wanted to move to the next level in their relationship, as did she. She had no right to keep him in the dark… if she could just work up the courage to squeeze the words past the massive lump expanding in her throat. What she needed was a good dose of steaming hot coffee.

  Her steps slowed. Was it okay to drink coffee? Should she be on a special diet? Even she knew alcohol was off limits for the next seven or so months. What about avoiding things like touching up her roots and working out—wait, she avoided that last one already. What about prenatal vitamins? Shouldn’t she be taking those already? Heaven’s sake! She needed an assistant to figure this all out. More importantly, she needed a competent doctor… soon.

  The scent of bacon had her walking a little faster. When she’d first come back to Birmingham—had it only been six weeks ago—after more than two decades away, she’d accused Dan of buying this big old house in the elite Mountain Brook neighborhood just for show. She would’ve bet her measly savings he had never cooked in this gourmet kitchen. She paused in the doorway and watched as he deftly portioned scrambled eggs from a nonstick pan onto two plates. Had she been that wrong or had he suddenly decided he wanted to use all those high-end appliances for something other than proof of his income bracket?

  Maybe they’d both decided they wanted more now that they were together again. Until very recently, she had expected to spend the rest of her days in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico. The prospect of marriage—much less children—hadn’t been penciled into her ten-year plan. At forty-two, she’d pretty much decided she didn’t have time to be a mother. So much for ten-year plans.

  She watched as Dan pulled biscuits from the oven. A mental harrumph accompanied the conclusion that those two perfectly round, fluffy cakes of bread had either come from a twist open can or a freezer bag. No way had he made those from scratch. But judging by the tempting aroma, they were going to be delicious either way.

  “Smells wonderful,” she announced. She might just nab both those biscuits. After all, she was eating for two, right?

  Dan looked up as she crossed to the island. A smile lifted his lips. Her heart did a little dance that made her feel all giddy. The first time she’d seen that smile, back in high school, she’d reacted the same way. The man had the most amazing smile. When those blue eyes lit up, any woman in the vicinity still breathing swooned. This morning he wore a pale blue shirt and navy tie, both of which highlighted his eyes and made him look all the sexier even wielding a potholder and baking sheet.

  Would their child have his midnight black hair and beautiful blue eyes? Or the plain old blond hair and brown eyes she stared at in the mirror every morning? She hoped this baby had Dan’s patience and his innate ability to be charming and kind.

  He was going to be an amazing father.

  Her shoulders sagged. How in the world was she going to hold up her end? Being a mother was a big deal. A huge commitment. What if she was a terrible mother? She’d lost her mother when she was just ten. God knew her drunken aunt hadn’t provided any sort of role model. She’d moved away before Lily started her family. Her sister was a wonderful mother. Maybe she inherited some special nurturing gene that Jess hadn’t.

  What if this baby didn’t like her? Suppose the baby sensed somehow that she was no good at being a parent?

  The idea of her impending motherhood shook her all over again. This poor child was doomed! She could just see him sitting on the bleachers alone at the soccer field because Jess was caught up in a case and forgot to pick him up. If they had a girl, it would be even worse. What did she know about little pink dresses and hair bows? Her experience with dance classes and dance mothers proved without doubt that she would not do well in that environment. She’d never worn a tutu in her life. Mothers carried all manner of emergency essentials in their purses. Jess carried a Glock, latex gloves and M&Ms.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  “Eat while it’s still warm.” Dan tugged off the mitt and pointed to a stool on the opposite side of the island. “Coffee? OJ?”

  Jess blinked. Somehow, she inhaled a breath. Calm down before you start hyperventilating. You can do this. She forced a smile. “How about both?” The coffee was for her, the OJ for the baby. A reasonable compromise.

  Breakfast wasn’t usually her favorite meal, but her stomach rumbled as if she hadn’t eaten in days. The scents alone had her appetite revved into high gear. She scooted onto a stool and plopped her bag on the one next to her as he settled a plate on the granite counter in front of her. Her mouth watered. She might n
ot even bother with a fork.

  “Butter?”

  No was on the tip of her tongue but instead of saying it she licked her lips and confessed, “Absolutely. Maybe some jelly, if you have any.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “This is Alabama, Jess, jelly is a staple of every kitchen.”

  She’d bet her beloved Mary Jane pumps this southern boy had only recently stocked his pantry with traditional staples. A shiver went through her as she pondered the concept that Daniel Burnett was nesting. A few months older than her, he had the successful career, the power of his family name and the respect of the community. Even after three failed marriages, he was ready for a wife and family.

  Careful what you wish for.

  As she slathered butter and jelly on her biscuit, all thought of her big news and of murder cases vanished. She dug into the meal, the rejoicing of her taste buds overriding all other brain activity. Orange juice and coffee appeared in front of her and she barely stopped chewing long enough to say thanks.

  When she’d scraped the last morsel from her plate, she realized he was watching her.

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” He munched on a strip of crisp bacon.

  Jess patted her mouth with the napkin that had landed next to her plate at some point. “You sure you didn’t hire someone to sneak in here and make breakfast while I was in the shower?” Maybe he’d been taking some of those cooking classes his friend Gina Coleman raved about.

  Stop being petty, Jess. Gina was Birmingham’s hotshot TV news reporter. She was gorgeous and she and Dan had once been an item.

  Something else Jess had struggled with since returning to her hometown—all Dan’s ex girlfriends and wives. All rich. And all gorgeous. She sighed, feeling frumpier with every passing minute.

  Stop putting off the inevitable. No matter that she was confident he would be thrilled about the baby, she also understood his need to hover would increase exponentially.