Chapter 22
A CLICKING NOISE PULLED Shane from a light sleep. He stretched as he opened his eyes. Kara had propped herself against the headboard, sitting cross-legged, her laptop balancing on her knees. “What time is it?”
“Five-thirty.”
He pushed her laptop.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to look up your skirt to see if you’re wearing that tiny little thong I took off you last night.”
She smiled. “Nothing but skin under this skirt.”
“That doesn’t help the morning hard-on.”
“You really are insatiable.” She set her laptop on the nightstand.
“I noticed a little landing strip growing back.”
“Why do you like that so much?”
He kissed her knee, sliding his finger up her thigh.
“The very first time I saw you naked, that’s what you had. Kind of stuck with me.”
Her laugh was cut short by Shane’s phone going off. “That can’t be good.” He rolled over, snagging his phone. “It’s Pollock. Hello?”
“Double homicide,” Pollock said. “Two kids…”
Shane jumped from the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a loud thud. He yanked up a pair of underwear and tossed Kara her duffle bag.
“…both bound and naked. Candles,” Pollok continued.
“Text me the address. We’ll be there as fast as we can. Did you call Jones?”
“Next,” Pollock said. “What about the Feds?”
“I’ll get a hold of Kara and Foster.” Shane ended the call and tossed the phone to the bed. “Call Foster. Double homicide.” Shane paused for a moment, taking a huge breath. “Two kids.”
“Fuck,” Kara said.
“I have to wake Theresa. Let her know I’m heading out.”
“Maybe you should leave a note.”
“No,” Shane said. “I promised Theresa I’d let her know if I ever had to leave before she woke up. Me telling her to go to my parents’ yesterday freaked her out.”
“Probably a good thing,” Kara said. “She’ll be more aware of Kevin’s and her surroundings.”
Shane grabbed a new shirt from the closet before opening the bedroom door, to find Kevin walking across the hallway. “What are you doing up?” He pulled the door shut.
“Bathroom.” Kevin rubbed his eyes. “Why are you getting dressed when you obviously haven’t showered?”
Shane ran a hand through his hair. “I have to go into work, so waking—”
“I’m up.” Theresa stood in her doorway. “Been studying.”
“You really need to sleep more,” Shane said. “And do something other than studying.”
Theresa shrugged. “I’ll go make a breakfast sandwich for you to take.”
“Make it two,” Shane said as Kara stepped from the master bedroom.
“Will do.” Theresa headed down the stairs.
“Morning, Kara.” Kevin scuffled his feet until he was close enough to give her a hug. “Dad said you have to go into work.”
“We do.”
Shane watched as Kara wrapped her arms around his son, then kissed the top of his head.
“Is it really bad?” Kevin stepped back, looking up at Kara.
“We don’t know yet.”
Shane stared at the two most important people in his life in awe. Their bond had developed quickly, which did concern him on some levels. Part of the reason he hadn’t dated. Kevin missed his mother, and he craved that kind of connection.
“Come on,” Kara said, looping her arm over Kevin’s shoulder. “Let’s go make a couple of coffees to go and wrap up those sandwiches.”
Shane stood at the top of the stairs, watching Kara and Kevin as they carried on a conversation. After they disappeared into the living room, Shane snagged his tie and sport coat. No way was he letting Kara walk out of his life this time.
* * *
Kara stepped from Shane’s car in the parking lot of one of the town parks in front of a lodge, which was out of Shane’s jurisdiction; but at this point, it didn’t matter. The Sheriff’s office, the Rochester PD, and the Feds were all in bed together on this one. The sky brightened with the morning sun. A fresh layer of snow covered the ground. Kara pulled her coat tight and walked toward the police line, Foster giving her the evil eye. She showed her badge, signed the log, then stepped under the yellow tape. Shane did the same, but he went straight inside the cabin.
“Save the lecture,” Kara said to Foster as she watched Shane disappear into the lodge. “Tell me what we have.”
“Two kids were reported missing last night,” Foster said.
“From where?”
“A support group for transplant patients.”
“Christ,” she said. “How old?”
“Both seventeen.”
That explained why no Amber Alert went out. “Organs?”
“Parents stated one had a pancreas transplant, the other had a lung transplant.”
“What’s it like in there?”
“Fresh,” Foster said. “Lots of blood.”
Kara scanned the area, noting the CSI team working on a possible tire tread. “We haven’t had two victims at once before.”
“We haven’t had an eye witness before either,” Foster said.
She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the word ‘witness.’ “To what, exactly?”
“A park worker who noticed a small SUV, maybe a CRV or Tucson, something that size, parked next to the cabin.” Foster pointed toward the CSI truck. “Worker noticed flashes of light, so he went to the door and opened it. Said he saw a figure over one of the bodies. Next thing he knows our killer whacks him upside the head, knocking him out.”
“Can he give us anything on the suspect? Height? Build? Eye color? Female? Anything.”
“Didn’t think our perp was too tall. Maybe five-seven or eight, but he couldn’t be sure.”
“Did you talk to the witness?” Kara blew into her hands and then rubbed them together.
“I did,” Foster said. “He’s not in a very good head space after seeing those two bodies. It’s brutal.”
“Guess I’d better go take a look.”
Foster grabbed her arm before she took a step. “I’m not going to lecture you, but I am going to say my peace.”
“Not the time or place.”
“Just listen,” he said. “I don’t care you’re screwing him. I got no problem working with Jones, but I’m concerned you’re putting your career on the line and going to get your heart broke—”
“Don’t go there.” She turned, looking Foster in the eye. “I might be riding a little too close, but I’m doing that so this case doesn’t derail if Shane…if something goes wrong, and if Kevin is a target, then consider me extra protection for both Kevin’s safety and Shane’s ability to do his job.” She poked Foster in the chest. “We’ve got a lead detective who is too close, but it’s not our call to pull him—”
“I don’t want Shane to be pulled off. He’s a good detective and has valuable insight. I just want you to see what everyone will see, or already does see, and the impact it could have on your career.”
“I can’t worry about that right now,” she said. “Until this killer is caught, I’m glued to Shane and Kevin. So back the fuck off.”
Foster held up his hands. “I said my peace. Now let’s go inside.”
The temperature was in the high teens, but Kara’s blood boiled. She took long strides across the parking lot, not caring if Foster was one step behind or not. Squaring her shoulders, she checked her emotions at the door as she stepped into the small cabin, her nostrils immediately assaulted with the smell of pumpkin, vanilla, and copper. She covered her mouth as some acid hit the back of her throat.
A couple of quick flashes of light illuminated the dark room. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves. The CSI team had labeled evidence and was now cataloging them with the camera. The M.E. and his team were hovering over the two bodies. Jones was talking with a tech and Shane stood behind the M.E., his notebook in hand, his face pale.
She took a couple of tentative steps forward, then looked left and right. Clothes were folded neatly and placed on the counter.
“Hey Kara,” Jones said.
“When Foster said fresh, he wasn’t kidding.”
“M.E. said both victims haven’t been dead very long.”
She focused her attention on the victim closest to the door. A blonde girl. Her blue eyes still open, but dull and lifeless. Her head turned toward the door. The victim’s hands were above her head, wrists bound with duct tape. Ankles crossed, and bound with duct tape as well. Kara stepped closer, pulling out her notepad. The victim had a large incision on her stomach, and some of her internal organs were piled on the floor in a pool of sticky blood.
“M.E. said it’s probable that the victims were alive when our killer sliced into their bodies.”
“Jesus,” she whispered. The second victim was presented in the same way. She was a redhead, and her eyes were thankfully closed. She had two long incisions on both sides of her body, starting from under the armpit and ending about twelve inches later. Kara pointed. “Lungs?”
“M.E. hasn’t confirmed, but yeah, says that would be how to get to them. We’ve confirmed she had a lung transplant in the last six months. On a Thursday,” Jones said.
“Pancreas for the other victim,” she said. “That leaves the thymus and the heart.” She lifted her gaze, studying Shane. He’d put his notebook away and was currently talking with one of the CSI team members. He stood tall, one hand stuffed in his pants pocket. His other hand twitched at his side, something he always did right before he strapped on his helmet before a ski race. To anyone who didn’t know him well, he looked calm.
But his stiff, closed-off exterior told her otherwise.
“There are two doors,” she said, pointing to the kitchen. “Which door did the witness come in?”
“Front door,” Jones said, motioning behind him. “Witness says the killer was kneeling over, lighting a candle at the foot of one of the victims. He was so stunned and shocked, he said he couldn’t move. Next thing he knew, he’d woken up on the floor next to the victim. He ran out and then called the cops.”
“How close was he to the victims?”
“In their blood close,” Jones said as he pointed to the bloody hand- and footprints where the witness obviously scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door. “But according to the witness, the killer’s car was parked on the other side of the lodge, in a grouping of trees.”
“Do we know how long the witness was unconscious?”
“Based on the time he thought he pulled in and the time he called 9-1-1, it was twenty minutes,” Jones said. “Why wouldn’t our killer murder the witness?”
“I’m guessing it’s some moral code or something. Only killing those who had a transplant.” Kara stepped carefully around an evidence marker and to the foot of one of the victims, Jones following. “All the other crime scenes, the killer cleaned up the blood, or at least tried before lighting the candles. Or even putting them down. Why are these different?”
“And why two at the same time?” Jones added. “Feels rushed, doesn’t it?”
“Something happened to our killer. Something that forced him to change his ritual.”
“That’s not good,” Jones said.
Shane nodded to Kara, and pointed to the kitchen.
“Foster give you shit this morning?” Jones asked.
She whipped her head around, glaring at Jones. “What do you know about that?”
He held his hands up. “For what it’s worth, I think Shane needs someone with him all the time,” Jones said. “He was barely pulling it together after Janet died. Then Kevin’s health went downhill. The pressure of it all nearly broke him.”
“How was his job performance during that time?” She swallowed the lump of guilt that formed her throat.
“Had he not put himself on administrative duty when Janet died he would have been fired, but not because he wasn’t doing his job. His record is one of the best in the station. The problem was his anger, which made him a loose cannon to work with. Never knew what he was going to do next.”
Kara figured outside of Shane’s family, Jones was the closest thing he had to a best friend. “Professionally, you know him better than I do.”
“If you’re asking me if I think he needs to step down from lead, I honestly don’t know. He’s been hyper-focused since he came back to work. Crossing every ‘t’, dotting every ‘i’. Even more so working with you, but this is a lot to take in.”
“But he’s not angry, like he was back then?”
“No,” Jones said. “But he is scared, and that can be just as bad.”
Kara pulled out her phone and hit*3.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure we’ve got a car on Kevin and Theresa around the clock.”
“He’ll never forgive you for going behind his back, or using resources on him when there are dozens of other kids in this town just like Kevin with a target on their back. Besides, we have a rotation.”
“I’m willing to risk Shane hating me. I’ve lived through that. I’m not willing to let anything happen to his son.”
* * *
Shane stepped from the cabin, using the back door, careful not to disrupt a few evidence tags. The crisp morning air burned his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. He’d worked some nasty homicides in his day. He’d seen some gruesome crime scenes over the years. But nothing in his life could have prepared him for this one. He rounded the corner of the cabin and faced the woods, needing a short break from it all. The inch of snow they’d gotten overnight lined the tree branches, forcing them to sag.
“Hey,” Kara’s voice echoed through the air. “Holding up okay?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “What those two girls went through to get a transplant is hell. Surviving one, equally hard. And it’s a constant battle. Organ rejection can happen at any time. You learn to live with that fact. I know it’s very possible my son won’t outlive me. His life is never going to be normal.” He waved toward the cabin. “But to have all the possibilities of a future that you fought so hard to get, wiped out by a…it’s just senseless.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze on the snow-covered path leading to the hiking trails that surrounded the park. “How are you holding up?”
“Not too well either,” she said. “This is one of the toughest cases I’ve ever worked, and I’ve been assigned some pretty crazy ones. But this one is exceptionally tough because there are now only two organs left to be collected, and your son—”
“Could be more,” Shane said, not wanting her to state the obvious. “There are other tissues that can be harvested. Not to mention the killer could start all over again.”
“I thought of that, too,” she said.
“I called Pollock and asked him to get in touch with your analyst to see if we can’t match the description of the car with someone who works in the hospital.”
“Narrow that down to someone who’s left-handed.”
“I know your profiler says a male,” Shane said. “But we’ve got missing cadavers that appear to be orchestrated by a woman, based on what those students told us, and our witness here stated the perp was not very tall.”
“At this point, we can’t rule out either sex,” Kara said. “If we get the organ donation and recipient list, we’ll have to just start interviewing everyone.”
“That’s going to be a grueling process.” Shane heard the blip of the ambulance siren. He glanced over his shoulder as it pulled out, taking the witness to the hospital. “We’ve got less than one week to stop this fucker before he or she strikes again.”
“The press is going to have a field day with this one,” Kara said. “Not to mention the public fear it will create,” Kara said. “My boss is considering sending the rest of the team.”
“Jones won’t like that too much, but I’ll take all the help I can get.”
She tapped his shoulder. “What’s going on? Something is really bothering you.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised she would be so in tune with his emotions. When they were kids, she knew him better than anyone in his family.
“When I was a beat cop, shortly before making detective, I was dispatched to a DUI which ended up being vehicular manslaughter. The driver was a young mother. Two toddlers in car seats in the back. She blew a .18. Both kids were unharmed, but they screamed like they were dying as Social Services took them away. Once they were gone, I read her her rights and handcuffed her, hoping…praying, those two babies wouldn’t be emotionally traumatized for life.”
“That had to have been rough,” Kara said
“The victim was a sixteen-year-old girl. The accident happened at Twelve Corners near Brighton High School. She’d been walking home after staying with some academic group. It was near five, so it was getting dark.”
“There have been a few accidents over the years at that light.”
“She’d been pinned between the car and the stop light. Her body leaning over the hood. When I got to the scene, the driver was trying to run, though a few good Samaritans made sure she didn’t. The worst part, however, was that the two children were in front-facing car seats, staring at the dead girl’s body for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Jesus,” Kara said softly.
Shane turned his head, catching her intense, but caring gaze. “Janet joined a bunch of support groups at the hospital when Kevin first got sick. I dived into work. That’s how I dealt with Kevin’s illness. Then Janet died and, other than my family and Jones, I had no one. I cut myself off from the world. I felt alone. Janet had always found comfort in these groups, and Kevin’s doctor kept nagging me to go, so I went. The group moderator was the father of the girl who had been killed that day. She’d had a heart transplant when she was six, only to be killed ten years later.”
Kara held his gaze, saying nothing. Just stood there with him for a long moment.
“The parents of the girl who died back then still run those support—”
“Oh, no,” Kara whispered. “They were the ones leading the group the victims attended?”
Shane nodded. “They’re taking it pretty hard. Blame themselves.”
“You talked with them.”
“They called me right after seeing the morning news. I’ve got interviews set up with them and Dr. Nads, who did Kevin’s heart transplant, along with the head of the transplant department.” He looked around toward the cabin. Jones stood in the back door, signaling.
“Let’s go catch this fucker.”