„The killer knows her,“ he said.
Mia looked puzzled. „We know that.“
„No, he knows her. He’s seen her interact with the people, the victims.“ The compassion, the anguish. „And he doesn’t hate her.“
„What do you mean?“
Abe leaned forward, intense. „I watched her with all these victims and their families for the last two days. They’re aloof at a minimum, hostile at the most extreme.“
„Like Stan Dorsey.“
„Yeah. But no one was warm, certainly not admiring.“ Not even Les Littleton, who she’d gone out of her way to help and who still damned her in his pathetic misery.
Mia’s eyes lit up. „So either she didn’t represent them, or she didn’t lose.“
„He lost,“ Abe said, „regardless if Kristen represented him or not. Remember what Westphalen said. And my gut says he’s connected to Kristen in a real way, more than just seeing her on television. He’s met her in person, I’m certain of it. I wonder if we could find any victim who’d lost in court that didn’t blame her.“
Mia tilted her head, considering. „She gave us the list of all the cases she lost. I wonder if she noted customer satisfaction in that database of hers.“
Abe picked up the phone. „One way to find out.“
Friday, February 20,
2:00 P.M.
The man who’d originally built his house played the trumpet. The man’s wife apparently held little appreciation for her husband’s musical gifts and insisted he either give up the trumpet or soundproof the basement.
He carefully pushed the basement door closed behind him.
Luckily for him, the man had really loved his trumpet. Without the soundproofing he most certainly would have been reported by a neighbor by now.
But now, there was no sound. Skinner was dead. Rigor mortis had come and gone, leaving the body limp. He approached the body, wishing a man could be killed twice. In Skinner’s case, perhaps a hundred times. The bastard had made a career of defending scum who preyed on the innocent. Skinner’s eight-bedroom house on the North Shore, his luxury cars, the fancy private schools for his children – all were bought with blood money, all paid for by the suffering of the innocent and the vile pandering of the guilty.
He drew his pistol from the drawer, knowing it was impossible to kill a man twice, knowing he’d have to be satisfied with the symbolic gesture. With little fanfare he centered the barrel of the pistol on Skinner’s forehead.
Pulled the trigger. And nodded once. It was done. And done well.
Just a few details to wrap it up, and he’d be ready to visit Leah’s fishbowl once again. He pulled on his gloves and prepared to divest Mr. Skinner of his Armani suit After all, Skinner would find it unbearably hot when he arrived at his final destination.
Chapter Ten
Friday, February 20,
2:15 P.M.
Kristen and Jack watched Julia pull the linen string from Ross King’s torso. Her appointment completed, she’d come down to watch Julia autopsy King. Hell, if an autopsy couldn’t clear her mind, nothing could. She’d met Jack on the way in, his face grim. He’d found nothing new on the clothes or crates or dirt from the gravesites. He was there to find anything to point him toward another lab test that might turn up something.
And because he has a thing for Julia, Kristen thought. Too bad everybody knows it but Julia.
„Whoever did this sure as hell knew what they were doing,“ Julia said. „Nice, neat stitches, even placement, no tearing.“ She looked up and met Kristen’s gaze, her eyes distorted by the goggles she wore. „He’s either a doctor or queen of the quilting bee.“
„Or a hunter,“ Jack added from where he stood on Kristen’s right. He shrugged when Kristen and Julia looked at him in surprise. „I used to hunt with my uncle. Lots of deer and ducks. He could dress a duck with nicer stitches than a surgeon.“
„It explains the clean incision,“ Julia remarked, looking back down at the body.
Kristen moved closer, watching Julia’s gloved hands. „What do you mean?“
Julia pulled back a flap of King’s skin. „There aren’t any indications of hesitation.“
„No jagged edges,“ Jack said and Julia nodded.
„Exactly. The incision only goes as deep as it has to.“
She pulled both flaps back, exposing the anatomy beneath. „There’s no damage to the organs… from the knife anyway. Here’s where the bullet went in. Whoever did this was damn good with a knife. I wouldn’t have thought of a hunter, but you could be right.“
„It’s a possibility.“ The deep voice behind her set off warning bells in her head, and she had barely a moment to compose herself before turning to find Reagan standing in the doorway. Filling the doorway, Mia barely visible behind him. Awareness buzzed between them and the morning memory still burning, Kristen looked away.
„Detective Reagan,“ Julia said. „Did your mother bring lunch?“ she asked hopefully.
Reagan moved into the room and it suddenly became that much smaller. „Maybe next time,“ he returned. „So our boy’s a sharpshooter with a quick needle. Did the autopsy turn up anything else?“
„Not yet.“ Briskly, Julia bent back down to the body.
„What did you find out about the white van?“ Kristen asked and Reagan turned, his eyes narrowed in reproach and for a moment he said nothing. She knew he knew about her call to Spinnelli and that she’d offended him by not calling him first. Possibly even hurt him.
But she hadn’t been able to call him. The wounds she herself had raked open that morning were still raw, the humiliation still too fresh. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. And even if he did, there was no way he’d ever understand.
„It was a flower delivery van,“ he finally said, just as quietly. „Spinnelli’s got a few men canvassing the Arboretum area where King’s body was found to see if anyone saw a similar van. Hopefully it hasn’t been so long that the trail’s gone cold.“
One of Julia’s techs came in with a clipboard. „Well, this is something you don’t see every day,“ Julia said. „Two of your Blade vies have evidence of cellular damage. From the look of these slides, I’d say your gang boys at one time were frozen solid.“
Mia tsked. „Freezer burn. Shoulda’ used Saran Wrap.“
Reagan shot Mia an amused look before turning back to Julia. „That makes sense.“
Julia raised a brow. „It does?“
Mia nodded. „The three Blades were in the photo together, but they were last seen at different times. We wondered what our humble servant did with the first bodies while he killed all three. He wanted them all in the photo together, since they did the crime together.“
Reagan crossed his arms over his chest. „This could mean that he’s storing them in a place where he can’t risk detection. If he hadn’t frozen them, the first two bodies would have started to stink before he bagged all three.“
Mia scrunched her mouth. „Or he could just be the fastidious type.“
„This could also support his being a hunter,“ Jack said. „A hunter would have a big freezer for his game, especially if he went for deer.“
Reagan nodded slowly. „You’ve got something there,“ he said, then looked over at Mia. „After the press conference, let’s pay a visit to the local target range. I’ll bet they have a club for hunters or know where we can find one.“
„Ask for members that go for deer and fowl,“ Jack advised. „You don’t sew up deer after they’re dressed, but you might stitch up a bird. I’ve got to get back now. Bye, Julia.“
Julia looked up from King’s body with an absent-minded smile. „Bye.“
Mia rolled her eyes as Jack left with a backward wave. „Idiot,“ she muttered, but Kristen wasn’t sure if she meant Jack or Julia and frankly was in no mood to care. All she was looking for right now was escape from Reagan’s eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She’d pulled on her own coat and was two steps from the door when Mia stopped her with a lifted hand. „Wait. We actually came to talk to you about that database you keep. The one of all your cases. Did you keep track of whether or not the victim was satisfied with the outcome of the case?“ Mia asked.