Читать книгу More Than A Lawman - Anna J. Stewart - Страница 12

Chapter 3

It was an hour before Cole pulled into the parking lot of the deserted warehouse off Parkway Boulevard in West Sac. At a little before 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday, traffic was nonexistent. Patrol cars from both his and the West Sac department sat scattered about, their lights casting eerie blinding beams into the still-dark morning. Yellow crime-scene tape cordoned off the area. Behind him, the gold silhouette of the landmark Tower Bridge loomed over the city. Two coroner vans, along with two dark sedans, told him more than one department superior was on scene.

As were several news crews. Irritation singed his nerves. Then he realized it was better to deal with them here than have them staking out Eden’s bedside. The longer her situation remained under wraps, the better. Especially for Eden.

Eden.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the icy blast of that meat locker or her frozen hands clutching at him as he’d carried her out of the building. Feeling her shiver, listening to her struggle for air... Cole didn’t think he’d ever complain again about how high the temperatures were in the valley.

His breath escaped in short white puffs as he closed up his SUV and returned to the scene, carrying the tray of steaming coffee cups to his team.

The building was old, long abandoned and beyond neglected. Looking at it from the outside, someone would have had to already know there was a freezer on the premises. Perhaps that list of someones would give them their first lead in months.

The investigating unit had been busy. They’d set up portable spotlights in the four corners of the expansive main area and assembled their equipment. Besides the rusting steel and corroded machine parts, evidence of squatters and remnants of various rodent visitors lay about. A mishmash of footprints could be seen in the buildup of dust and debris on the floor.

Searching for usable evidence would be futile. If there had been any at all, it had been obliterated by him and his men in their rush to get to Eden. Something he’d bet the Iceman had counted on.

The pure joy that surged through him when he’d found Eden alive had nearly overwhelmed him. He’d expected the worst. What else could he think given he’d been taunted by a sociopathic serial killer? In so doing, the Iceman had flipped the entire case on its head.

With all the attention Eden had given the Iceman in recent months, the killer must have had enough; he’d decided to return the favor.

Bile rose in Cole’s throat.

There was only one reason the Iceman hadn’t murdered Eden.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

If the Iceman planned to try again, he’d have to get through Cole first.

“Thought you’d call me with an update before you got here.” Jack McTavish emerged from the freezer and grabbed the large paper cup Cole handed to him.

“Tried. My phone’s been dropping calls since I changed carriers.” He managed a tired smile. “So I drove faster.”

“How’s Eden doing?” Jack drank deeply and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Sedated, but good. I put two officers on her until I get back there.” Which Cole was anxious to do, he realized.

Jack gave him a quick nod. His partner was Cole’s age, but there were times he acted a decade younger. Thirty-two as of last week—a celebration that had resulted in a two-day hangover for half the squad—his buddy reminded Cole of one of those ’80s TV cops with his good looks, sturdy stance and dedication that shone in too-wise dark brown eyes.

They’d been partners for a little over a year, ever since Jack had moved west from Chicago, but Cole was confident that Jack was a good cop. Solid. Dependable. One who would take this attack on someone Cole considered family as personally as he did.

“What have we got?” Cole asked him.

“I wish we could say it’s a gold mine.” Jack sounded as frustrated as Cole felt. “Other than eight corpses, and an agreement from the West Sac department for us to take the lead, not much.”

“So he is still hunting.” In any other circumstances, Cole might have smiled at Eden being a step ahead of them. “He was just hiding deeper underground.” Cole walked into the freezer, his eyes immediately going to the hook hanging from the ceiling.

Fresh rage descended and he gritted his teeth. He scanned the line of bodies and saw the pale copper-blond hair of a young woman. For an instant, he envisioned Eden’s face on the corpse. He attributed the unease to the arctic freezer temps, rather than dwell on the fact that he easily could have been too late.

He’d seen a lot during his ten years on the force, especially in the last two, serving as a detective. The crimes, the victims, the aftermath of what human beings were capable of inflicting on one another were like slash marks on his soul. Was it any wonder some cops lost their faith in...everything? But when the victim was someone you knew, someone you cared about... The breath he exhaled may as well have been fire, given the anger behind it.

Cole’s eyes burned as he blinked the vision of Eden away, but he couldn’t stop the image of her hanging in this place. What had been going through her head? Had she been awake? Screaming?

No. Eden wouldn’t have screamed. She’d done exactly what he would have expected her to do: she got herself down.

“Eden was lucky,” Jack muttered as if sensing where Cole’s thoughts had taken him.

“I doubt luck had much to do with it,” Cole said. Their killer had wanted Eden found. “Glad to see Hendrix is on scene.” He inclined his head toward the older silver-haired woman standing in front of a row of gurneys. The medical examiner headed up the entire forensic division, as well she should, given her nearly twenty-five years on the job.

“They’re taking bets,” Jack said. “This big a development, odds are it’s less than twenty-four hours before the Feds arrive.”

Not one to pass on a sure thing, he said, “Give me ten on twenty-three. Mona,” Cole acknowledged the coroner and stepped over to greet her and hand over the last cup of coffee. “Any idea how long they’ve been dead?”

“Won’t know for sure until the bodies thaw out.” Mona Hendrix gazed upon the first two that had been removed, her laser-like blue eyes widening behind thin wire frames. “But these aren’t recent kills. I’d say anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. So, Cole, tell me, what do you see?”

He hated this necessary game, but at least the frozen corpses didn’t have that sickly sour stench that crept into his nostrils and settled in the back of his throat. Instead the stench had been partially obscured by the frost.

“Their clothes are all still intact,” he observed, blanking out the fact that these people had once been living, breathing members of society. “And so are the bodies. No mutilations visible. Strange.” The previous three victims had been cut open, organs left exposed. These bodies didn’t have that. “A change in MO? Or are you saying it’s a different killer? This isn’t the Iceman?”

Mona glanced at him, disapproval evident in her face. “You know better than to put words in my mouth, Detective. I asked for what you see. I didn’t say tell me what I was thinking.”

Cole circled the gurneys, checking for differences, any variances from the first three victims’ files he’d memorized, a necessity a month back after realizing Eden had the Iceman in her sights. She might be used to working alone, but she wasn’t a cop. Somebody had to be her backup. “Like the original three victims, there doesn’t seem to be any racial, physical or gender-specific commonalities, but how they were found and where...”

The Iceman had led him to this spot. Brought Eden here. Eden... She hadn’t been focused on anyone other than the Iceman for ages. Who else could it be?

“What about their blood?” he asked and gave himself a mental pat on the back when Mona blinked wide eyes at him. It took a lot to surprise her.

“Their blood?”

Cole bent close and examined the side of the neck of one of the victims. “We need to take another look at the previous bodies.” He did the same check on the present victims, pointing to round puncture markings near the jugular in each case. “Eden’s doctor found these same pinpricks and bruises, only smaller, and on her arm, too. He believes whoever took her also took a significant portion of her blood.”

“Is that so. Well, it’s good to have a starting point, but it’ll be a few days before I can confirm that.”

“How about prints?” McTavish asked.

“We’ve got in one of those fancy new digital scanners. We’ll see how well it works. In the meantime, I’ll pull the files of the previous victims and go through them again. Interesting. Given their injuries, any blood loss would have been attributed to those markings, but you’re suggesting the blood itself was what he was after? I’ll take another run at the photos, too, see if I can find any more wounds similar to these. So, is it him?”

“Going by the evidence in front of us?” Cole cast doubtful eyes to Jack, who shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. But my gut tells me it is. There’s a reason we didn’t get anything from him in almost two years. If he’s changed MOs, that could explain it. I’ll have Dr. Collins send you a sample of Eden’s blood to have something to compare.” For the first time, he felt a crack, however thin, appear in the case.

“Sounds good.” Mona returned to the freezer to supervise the removal of the rest of the victims.

“What game is he playing?” Cole couldn’t wrap his brain around the scene. “There’s so much that’s wrong. If I hadn’t gotten that call from him, I might not even believe it myself.” And hesitation, as Cole knew all too well, could be a cop’s worst enemy.

“Buck up, Delaney.” Jack shifted on his feet. Cole turned. “Boss is in the house.”

“And he’s brought a friend. Looks like I should have bet on a shorter time.” Even Cole wouldn’t have guessed the FBI would turn up within a half hour. “Lieutenant.” Cole nodded at Kevin Santos, a cop with twenty years’ experience, most of it in homicide, despite the fact that he looked like a computer geek. Three years behind the lieutenant’s desk hadn’t dulled his detective skills one bit. Nor had it affected his capacity to detect what Cole’s grandfather would have called nonsense.

“Detectives Delaney and McTavish,” Lieutenant Santos greeted them and approached them with a guarded look in his eyes. He gestured to the man behind him. “This is Agent Anthony Simmons, our new local FBI liaison. His office is suggesting we establish a task force on the Iceman investigation.”

“Shoot,” Jack muttered. “Missed it by two hours.”

Cole noted his lieutenant’s arched brow and wondered if his superior had entered the betting pool himself. “Sir, while we value the FBI’s willingness to help—”

“We do?” Jack choked on his coffee.

“Respectfully, Agent Simmons,” Cole said, as politely as possible, “nobody knows this case better than my team.”

“That may be true.” With dark, tired eyes, and a wariness that spoke of too many years on the job, Agent Simmons gave a slow nod. “But you have to admit, given this morning’s developments, one has to wonder if you and your team should have known he’d surface again.”

Whatever congeniality Cole might have been willing to extend to Agent Simmons evaporated. “I don’t have to admit anything.” Cole stretched his lips into a wide smile as his coffee churned in his stomach. “Someone did know, but that someone isn’t a cop.”

“Delaney.” Santos’s voice held that hint of warning that set cops’ hearts to thudding.

“That would be Eden St. Claire, the woman found alive in the freezer?” Agent Simmons asked. “I’d like to interview her as soon as possible.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed as he sipped again. “I’m sure you would.”

“I brought you here for introductions, Agent Simmons. Not to get into an argument with my detectives.” Lieutenant Santos put his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

Cole cast a sideways glance at his partner and tried not to smile. Their boss had a long fuse, but the “pocket rock” was a definite sign Agent Simmons had lit it in record time.

“Unless the FBI is officially taking over the case, Delaney will remain in charge. You’re welcome to stick around, sit in on the meetings and interviews, even work it with his team, but we make the calls. Understood?”

“A task force is just that. A force,” Agent Simmons replied with something akin to a growl in his voice. “I would like to be present when Ms. St. Claire is able to be questioned.”

Cole wasn’t letting this guy anywhere near Eden; at least not until he had the chance to talk to her himself. “She’s been sedated for at least the next twelve hours,” Cole lied. “They aren’t sure of the emotional trauma the attack might have had.” He ignored the surprise that flashed across his lieutenant’s face. Santos—along with the rest of the Sacramento PD—was well acquainted with Eden and her...proclivities. Emotional trauma tended to have the opposite effect on Eden. If anything, it made her more obstinate, more focused than normal.

Agent Simmons’s nod of sympathetic understanding only proved he hadn’t done his homework when it came to the Iceman’s most recent target, and the woman who’d spent the last year and a half tracking him.

“I’ll officially request to be notified when she’s conscious,” Agent Simmons said.

“You do that.” Cole smirked. Why did they always have to be so adversarial? “Sir, with your permission, I’d like to get back to Mona and see if she has any new information.”

“Certainly,” Santos said. “But first, a moment if you don’t mind, Agent?” Santos grabbed Cole’s arm and moved him out of Simmons’s earshot. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but there’s something we aren’t being told. I’ll stall Simmons as long as I can, but he’s up to something.”

“The Iceman made a mistake taking Eden,” Cole said, not caring about anything else right now, including police politics.

“You mean because he’s angered her even more?” Santos’s thick eyebrow went up a good inch. “If he meant to deter her—”

“By taking Eden he confirmed what she’d been saying. Leaving her alive is probably his way of telling us he can get to her—to anyone—whenever he wants, which means her years of working on her own are over.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Watch out. The both of you,” Santos told him and gestured to Jack. “At some point we’ll have to update the press, but the chief will take care of any official statements. I’d prefer to keep all of us, Eden included, away from the cameras. Do me a favor?” Santos’s mouth quirked into an amused smile. “Let me know when Agent Simmons plans to question Eden. That’s a conversation I do not want to miss.”