Читать книгу A Serial Affair - Natalie Dunbar - Страница 8

The whites of Marina Santos’ mahogany-brown eyes shone bright in the bathroom mirror as she skillfully thickened her lashes with mascara. Quickly lining her lids, she filled in her eyebrows. Grumbling in frustration, she gave her thick hair one last impatient brush. Why hadn’t she been blessed with easy-care hair like her cousins Janisa and Carmen? Maybe her hair would be easier to manage with a permanent.

Her full, berry-colored lips twisted ruefully. With the dense, moisture-laden July air, her shoulder-length hair would be even thicker before she got to work. She would have pulled it back, but she hated the drab, toned-down, buttoned-up look that most sported at her job. Wearing her hair down was one of the small ways she rebelled.

Straightening the casual navy pantsuit that she’d brightened with a multicolored camisole, she inserted a pair of ruby studs into her ears. In the background she could hear the Channel 9 news. Brushing lint off one sleeve of her jacket, she froze as she listened.

“Early this morning the body of twenty-six year-old Elliot Washington was found floating in the pool at the Hartford Hotel. The family has been notified. The cause of death has not been determined and police are not releasing details, but there are several reports that the body had been mutilated.

Washington was last seen partying with friends on the North End last night. You may recall that Washington was a close friend of Mayor Dansinger’s daughter, Jade. He was a press favorite at several events featuring the mayor and his family.

Police are asking that anyone with information that might lead to an arrest contact them.”

Marina stepped out of the bathroom in her low-heeled sensible shoes in time to see a television screen close-up of a tall blond man shown with the mayor’s daughter. She recognized him from stories she’d seen on television and in the newspapers. A stockbroker, he was young, good-looking, and known to be a bit wild. Washington appeared often on the arm of the mayor’s daughter and many speculated that things might have been heating up.

Eyes narrowing, Marina reached for her purse. Working under Lowell Talbot, the FBI’s violent crimes expert, had so honed her instincts that she’d never look at life the way she used to. Now she saw patterns in everything. Leaping in anticipation of a new puzzle, the analytical part of her brain took in the news information, dissected it and searched for comparisons with things she’d seen and heard.

Reaching back in her memory, she recalled reading about a similar homicide several months ago. Hadn’t there been another young man found dead and mutilated? Yeah. They’d found his mutilated body in a stall at Union Station. And she was betting that he hadn’t been the first. It usually took three similarly patterned murders before a murderer was considered a serial killer. Could Chicago have a serial killer on the loose?

Washington’s body had been mutilated, according to the reporter. Just what did they mean by “mutilated”? Working with Talbot she’d seen it all. Murder and mutilation were disturbing enough, but in general the damage was more visceral when a serial killer was involved. The victims were usually women. That made the possibilities in this instance even more intriguing. If her instincts were on target, this time a group of men was in danger.

Settling the strap of the purse on her shoulder and palming her car keys, she exited the front door of her remodeled brownstone. With the alarm set, she carefully locked the door. She took the steps in brilliant sunlight, then opened the door of her red sports car, at which point she allowed herself to wonder. Has anyone else even noticed the two murders enough to tie them together? Of course, the Chicago Police Department had noticed, but that wouldn’t be on the news. Getting the local population all excited with the news wouldn’t be smart anyway.

Settling on the seat and buckling the safety belt, she savored the sound of the engine roaring to life, then took off in a squeal of tires.

By the time she’d parked her car and made it to her office at the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, she knew something was up. Everyone seemed unusually busy as she’d passed on her way to her cubicle.

Scanning the office, she still didn’t have a clue what was up. Some of her co-workers had been distant ever since she’d landed a promotion in the afterglow of helping Lowell Talbot solve a high-profile murder case. Marina straightened her shoulders. She’d earned that promotion and she’d be damned if she’d apologize for it.

Her boss’s young blond secretary, Ilene, was hovering near her desk.

Marina checked her watch. She was still fifteen minutes early. She slowed her stride, sparing her boss’s office a quick, surreptitious glance. The door was closed.

Marina greeted Ilene as she began to put her things in her desk.

“Keep the jacket on. Spaulding wants to see you in his office as soon as you get settled,” Ilene announced.

Marina looked up from locking her purse in the bottom drawer. “What’s going on?”

Ilene shrugged, her expression giving discreet evidence of the battle within her. She didn’t like Marina, but was still the kind of person who enjoyed knowing things others didn’t and controlling the flow of information. “I think you’re going to get a new assignment,” she admitted.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Marina prompted, slanting her a glance.

Nostrils flaring, Ilene’s gaze flicked over her. “This one is big. You’ll either fall on your face or prove you deserved that promotion.”

“I got the promotion because I’ve already more than proved myself, but I’m down for a new assignment.” Marina straightened, ready to squash any smart-assed comment Ilene might make. Still, she swallowed at the smirk on Ilene’s face.

“We’ll see.” Turning abruptly, Ilene headed back to her desk.

Marina hesitated, torn between rushing into her boss’s office to hear the news as soon as possible and enjoying the last minute of peace she was likely to get for some time. She opted for the momentary peace and headed for the coffee room with her cup. Three gulps of hot coffee later she knocked at her boss’s door.

“Santos!” Ross Spaulding called, beckoning her into the room, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Inclining her head in acknowledgment, she took a seat at his conference table. “What is it, sir?”

“We got a call from the mayor’s office this morning,” he announced. “Dansinger is asking us to work with the Chicago Police Department on a special task force.”

“And how does Chicago’s finest feel about us encroaching on their territory?” she quipped.

“Damn lucky for a change!” Spaulding grinned almost affably. “With the economy being so rough right now, crime has almost doubled in Chicago. The C.P.D. has got just about all they can handle.” The smile faded as he eyed her critically. “Been paying attention to the news lately?”

“What kind of violent crime are we talking?” she asked.

“You’re the expert. What do you think? Why do you think you’re sitting in the hot seat?” he countered.

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t wanted to draw conclusions since the request had come from the mayor’s office and she’d been assigned the case, but deep in her gut she knew. “Are we talking Elliot Washington and the other man being found dead, their bodies mutilated, within a four-or five-month period?”

“Bingo.” Spaulding weighed her with his eyes. She’d gotten points for that answer. “Washington’s death has the mayor’s family pretty upset. Jade Dansinger thought she was in love with him apparently.”

“Was there another incident, another body?” she asked.

Spaulding’s beefy fist choked the life out of an ink pen as his head inclined in answer to her question. “You’ll work with one of their homicide lieutenants and you’ll have resources available from the Chicago Police Department and the FBI. I don’t have to tell you how important this case is for us, and to you and your career?”

“No, sir. I will find the killer.” Marina spoke with cool confidence but inside she was bouncing off the walls with nervous excitement. Spaulding hadn’t promoted her to his section. She’d been promoted and dumped on him by his management. Since then, they’d both been trying to make the best of it. Her fingers tightened on the edges of the chair beneath the table.

He made a rough grinding sound in the back of his throat. “I’ve had agents waste valuable time and taxpayer dollars wrestling with the C.P.D. over jurisdictional issues and one-upmanship. Don’t even think of letting the fact that you’ll be working with the C.P.D. keep you from solving this case as soon as possible, understand?”

“Yes, sir. I can work with them,” she said quickly, hoping her new partner wouldn’t be a complete ass.

Spaulding’s piercing gaze sized her up once more. He nodded as if she’d passed some test. “You’re due at the Twenty-fourth District Town Hall Station on Halstead at ten-thirty, so get moving. Talbot wants you to check in with him before you leave.”

Marina thanked him and left the office. Outside, she let herself breathe. She could do this. She would do this. The prospect actually excited her.

At his desk in the Homicide Unit, finishing some paperwork, Lieutenant Reed Crawford’s jaw clenched, as his temper shot up like a rocket. Two desks over, Lieutenant Warwick was meeting with a community activist and a local reporter about the high-profile murder of one of the Chicago Bears’ assistant coaches. Evidently, there was going to be an article in the paper. That didn’t bother him so much. What burned Reed the most was that somehow Warwick had scooped him again by getting the assignment from Shepherd. When had that happened? Better yet, how?

If it was just about the work, he could deal with it, but he and Warwick were the top candidates for a promotion. If Reed just took it as the luck of the draw, then in a few months he’d probably be standing on the sidelines as Warwick accepted the promotion they’d both been pushing for. Reed was determined to use all his skills and abilities to serve the community and lead the department to greater glory in its war against crime.

After postponing his dreams of becoming an FBI agent to stick close to home to help care for his ailing mother, he’d discovered that he really liked police work. The competition for the promotions was so heated and contentious he’d learned to get in line early and make sure the folks in the head shed knew just who he was.

Reed stood, placing the reports he’d been finishing back into folders and pushing the folders into a neat pile. He headed for the captain’s office, more than aware that it was time to look out for his own interests. He’d made lieutenant on his own and he’d get the next promotion the same way.

Ean Shepherd was at his desk, chomping on an unlit cigar. Reed knew it was a bad sign. Shepherd had been trying to stop smoking all year. For the most part, he’d succeeded, but when stressed or under pressure Shepherd went back to chomping. The one concession was that most of the time it stayed unlit. “What do you want, Crawford?” he barked, spotting Reed in the doorway.

Having worked for Shepherd for two years, Reed immediately realized that he should have waited to approach the man. “I wanted to talk assignments, but if this is a bad time…”

“It ain’t gonna get any better,” Shepherd snapped. “From the mayor’s office to the brass, I’ve had my ass chewed so many times today it’s medium rare. You wait much longer I won’t have any ass left, so get in here.”

Stepping into the office and closing the door, Reed dropped down into the seat in front of the desk.

“So what’s got your jaw so tight?”

“Warwick’s working the Chicago Bears’ case and I’m still off in the weeds with a desk full of crap. Captain, I want that promotion. I need an assignment that will give me some of the same exposure and experience as he’s getting.”

Shepherd eyed him speculatively. Then he nodded. “Mmm-hmm.” A grin formed on both sides of the cigar in Shepherd’s mouth. “Crawford, I’ve got just the job for you.”

This was too easy. The sudden change in the captain made Reed do a double take. “Sir?”

Shepherd threw the soggy cigar into the trash can and tilted back in his chair. “One of the reasons they’ve been raining down the love on me is that it looks like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. With the caseload we’ve got right now, I don’t have any of my most experienced guys available to take it, but the mayor and the chief of police want a task force to take it on now. That’s where you come in, Crawford. The mayor’s already asked the FBI to help us out. They’re providing an agent who’s also a violent crimes expert. You’ll have department resources and those of the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime—NCAVC—and the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program—VICAP—behind you. That’s why I can put you on this task force so that you can get the experience and a bit of the limelight. What do you think?”

Reed had never had an opportunity to work with the FBI, but knew from some of his co-workers that the agents could be an arrogant lot. On the other hand, he did know one agent, Marina Santos, who was smart, fiery and hot, and as far as you could get from arrogant. They’d almost had a thing until she’d drop-kicked him in favor of a Puerto Rican guy.

As the silence grew uncomfortably long, he pushed his thoughts past Marina. This was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to pass up. Besides, what were the chances of Marina, out of all the agents working crime in the local office, being assigned to work the task force with him? He spoke confidently. “I want to take on the assignment, sir. I think I could do us proud.”

Captain Shepherd flashed him an evil grin and tapped his fingers on the oak desk. “You’d better. I want you to catch this killer before he or she kills again. And don’t get tight-assed about working with the Feds. Some of them are okay guys and gals.”

Reed nodded. “Yes, sir. Can you give me some detail on this serial killer case?”

“Someone’s out there killing young men and mutilating the bodies. We’ve got two bodies identified right now and suspect there’s more. The latest victim was Elliot Washington, a friend of the mayor’s daughter. His body was found this morning floating in the pool over at the Hartford Hotel. Both men were in their mid to late twenties. Both had been stabbed and castrated.”

Ouch! Reed swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was definitely an interesting case. He could only imagine the motivation behind someone taking the time to murder and castrate someone.

The captain studied him, looking for a sign of weakness. “Still think you can do this task force deal?”

Reed nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m ready to roll on it. Just give me the names and I’ll pull the files.”

“No need for that.” The captain handed him two folders. The one on top had Washington’s name on it. “You can do a search on the system to see if you can come up with the others.”

“Thank you.” Reed accepted the files and rose.

“One other thing, Crawford. Since Farrell is still in the hospital, you can use his office as the task force office for now. I had Betty put away his things.”

Thanking him again, Reed got out of his office. He was excited at the prospect of putting a face to whoever killed Washington and the other guy, and catching the killer before he could kill again. The only potential bug on his butt was the FBI agent he’d have to work with. He’d heard enough stories to make his hands curl into fists.

On the way back to his desk Reed tried to relax. If the FBI sent a snot-nosed, tight-assed wonder boy, he’d just have to make him see the light. He could do that, couldn’t he? He’d show him that the C.P.D. was truly a world-class team.