Dark Wings Descending (20 page)

“It sounds desperate and a little crazy,” Rafe said.

“Psychopaths don’t think like the rest of us, Rafe. You might want to keep an eye on his sister. They sound like a pair who never grew out of their childhood competition for attention.”

“It makes me mad we have to put manpower into investigating his false claims.”

“Better to prove them false and know you’re going in the right direction for the true killer. The trouble is, Epcot fits a great deal of the profile. But your killer is much more complex. I’ve added to the profile. Thank you for the new photos, by the way. Rather artistic ones too for the crime scene guys.”

Rafe didn’t comment. She didn’t want to have to explain why Ashley was at the scenes well before the police were.

“Anyway, this killer’s apparent fascination with the blood could be because he’s turned on by it, but you can exsanguinate a person so much easier than ripping open their back to do it. It could be an expression of his desire to make the crime scene look even more horrific, but he carefully poses the body after the act and tries to make them appear beautiful again. It’s contradictory. The rearrangement of the blood does not make sense in context to his killing.”

“So what’s your theory?”

“I think he’s framing his work. After all, the blood is spread in a very specific area. Whatever he’s painting we just can’t see yet. He’s chosen the wrong terrain to show us what he’s depicting.”

“Great, now we have fucking Rorschach images left in blood.” Rafe stretched over to snag the end of a folder and managed to pull it toward her without disturbing the sleeping cat sprawled in her lap. Rafe looked at one of Ashley’s photos again, this time with Blythe’s insight. “It does look like he’s tried to smear the blood out and above the body.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not a natural blood formation,” Blythe said. “His signature is bigger than we thought. The blood is linked to the pose. It’s all a part of how he wants them to be seen.”

“What the hell is he trying to tell us?” Rafe stared at the photo, searching for that elusive something she hadn’t seen previously. This time she tried to decipher the blood as it was spread above the body of the second victim, Erica Lane.

“When you can see his creation, maybe then you can find him,” Blythe said. “He needs a better canvas. His killing them in alleys doesn’t let him move the blood where it obviously needs to be positioned. On the last killing, the dirt is scuffed around the body. Maybe that isn’t from him killing her but from him trying to push the blood up to frame her shoulders. I think he’ll try to pick a better surface to display his meaning on. His message isn’t being heard.”

“I pray we catch him before he strikes again.”

“You have no leads at all?”

“Not a thing, just a bunch of photos that leave us with more questions than answers and three dead women.”

“Then look to the blood. I feel he’s all but signing his name in it for you.”

The amount of paperwork left piled on her desk made Rafe sit down more heavily in her chair. She turned on her computer, reached for her now cold Starbucks, and drank the dregs sparingly while sorting through her in-box tray. She flipped a few files over into Dean’s in-box and continued perusing the rest. Though the spine killer was her top priority, Rafe still had other cases to deal with, and she read through the reports that had finally made it to her desk. She made notes on each one, where to follow up, what was a dead end, what could lead to more information. She picked up the file concerning the death of Andrea Mason, the third spine killer victim. All the results were in and the paperwork concluded. Something in the autopsy notes caught her eye.

“Morning, boss,” Dean said as he entered the room armed with a cardboard tray full of fresh coffee.

Rafe eagerly took the proffered drink from him. The red-hot liquid scalded her tongue as she hastily drank it down. “I think the killer unwittingly gave us a clue with his last victim.” She waved the file at Dean. “Natalie Gray, our first victim, was five foot four and blond. Erica Lane, victim number two, five foot five and blond. The last victim, Andrea Mason, five foot four again and brunette.”

Dean folded his arms, waiting. Rafe continued. “When Andrea Mason was brought into the morgue, after she was processed and washed down, there was a chemical residue found in her hair. The results concluded she had coloring in her hair at the time of her death. One of those wash-in, wash-out jobs. She was a natural brunette.”

“But when she was killed—”

“She was blond,” Rafe declared. She slapped the file on the table. “In the dark, in the night, you’re not going to tell a dye job from a natural color.”

“He’s not stalking these women beforehand. He’d have known she wasn’t a natural blonde.”

“He’s specifically targeting small blond women.” Rafe’s thoughts immediately went to Ashley.
You’d better be safe out wherever you are today.

“So not only has he got a definite signature with the ripping open of their backs, posing them and messing in their blood, he’s also got a specific female type he sets his sights on.” Dean reached for the file. “Nice to know they can rush evidence through when they need to.”

“It’s a serial case; they knew we needed it processed ASAP.” Rafe reached for her coffee and took another long drink. “We can catch this guy. We just need to figure his motives out. Maybe find the blonde who triggered his killing streak.”

Alona sauntered into the room and greeted them both. She made a point of staring at Dean. “You’re in early, Detective. The woman who picked you up last night kick you out before her husband came home?”

Rafe laughed into her coffee container at Dean’s reddening face. She’d missed her colleagues’ teasing banter. Things were finally getting back to normal in the office.

“Actually, she said she had an early appointment.” He handed her a coffee and hid himself behind his monitor.

Rafe watched Alona accessing her computer. “I need you to run some checks for me today.”

“What do you need?”

“I’m looking for assaults on blond women, all short in stature, five foot five the tallest, in and around the areas of the killing zone we have for the spine killer. Go back a couple months to start us off.”

“You’ve got some new information?” Alona began tapping away at her keyboard.

“We’ve finally got a chink of light to the darkness this guy is hiding in. Let’s see if we can’t widen it and find him.”

*

“So this is my good morning from you? I walk in and you promptly take me down to visit the morgue.” Ashley tried to tame her windswept hair as she walked beside Rafe. “You could at least let me warm up first with coffee before taking me down to the icebox.”

“Sorry, but we only have the body for today. It’s been processed. Andrea Mason is being released to the funeral home tomorrow.”

Ashley understood the urgency. She stopped fussing and just enjoyed being able to see Rafe again. “Still, you never even gave me a kiss hello.”

Rafe never slowed her pace. “I hardly think the morgue is the right place for that, Ms. Scott.”

“You owe me.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it when you collect too,” Rafe replied and ushered Ashley in to meet Dr. Alan.

Ashley recognized him. She’d spoken to him at the last two crime scenes, each time as someone other than herself. Rafe introduced them.

“You’re here to examine Andrea Mason’s body again?” he asked as he directed them into another room lined with steel doors.

“Yes, I want Ms. Scott to see the body. You’re aware she’s assisting us with the case?”

“I heard a rumor you had a PI in tow, yes.” He gave Ashley a curious look. “Do you have a medical background, young lady?”

Ashley smiled at him. “No, but I’ve seen enough dead bodies to know when something isn’t quite right. I think Rafe is hoping I’ll hit on something she can use.”

“I’ve examined the poor girl inside and out and found there was a lack of evidence left behind. No transference of bodily fluids, no DNA, nothing that hints at who was behind this.” He pulled open a door and pulled out the pallet with a shrouded body on it. Gently, he lowered the sheet.

Ashley knew, as with the previous bodies, that this was a human body, not one shed by a demon. The subtleties were minor, but Ashley was well versed in recognizing them. She pulled on a pair of gloves and began gently palpating the skull. She overheard the words Dr. Alan whispered aside to Rafe.

“Tell me she’s not looking for horns too.”

Ashley looked up in time to catch Rafe hushing him. “Horns, Dr. Alan?” Ashley decided to tackle him head-on. “What do you usually autopsy in this room?” She felt along the line where the skull had been cut open and admired the work that had allowed for the woman’s brain to be removed yet still let her look reasonably normal. The contorted look on her face ruined the neatness of the autopsy cuts. “Nice job, by the way. You can hardly see where you cracked her skull open.”

Dr. Alan’s smile was crooked. “I wanted her to look her best, but whatever she went through left its mark.”

Ashley checked in the woman’s mouth, felt along her throat, and then lowered the sheet and checked the places she knew demons scratched, bit, or invaded. She knew that some demons were exactly like humans in their violence, though they generally didn’t seek out humans as prey. When they did, they were as predisposed to fighting and rape as much as any human degenerate. “Your report said there was no sign of sexual trauma, just like with the last two victims.”

Dr. Alan nodded. “None of them were penetrated.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” Rafe muttered.

Ashley turned the body over carefully and made a face at the ruined flesh. She pressed her fingers into the wound. “No sign of teeth marks.” She searched for the minute signs of a demon’s hands but nothing lit up before her eyes. She bit back a growl of frustration.

“This was all done by knife,” Dr. Alan said. “In my experience, the biters like to sink their teeth into the flesh, not cut it open and bite at the innards. I have to admit, with this ferocity, I was surprised there was no consumption of anything. Seems like a great deal of trouble to go through not to get something out of it.”

Running her finger along the exposed spinal bone, Ashley wondered what this demon wanted. The spine wasn’t usually high on their list of needs. She carefully laid the body back down and covered her again. She snapped the rubber gloves off her hands and threw them away. “I don’t think I can add anything more to what Dr. Alan has already written up,” she said with a shrug.

“Fuck,” Rafe said.

“What did you hope to find?” Dr. Alan asked.

“Answers, just like you search for. He left no trace I could see.”

“And you’d know this trace how? I thought you weren’t a doctor, and I didn’t see you use any equipment in your examination.”

Ashley smiled at him. “We all have ways and means, Dr. Alan. You see answers in the body and Detective Douglas sees hers in the evidence. I have my own ways of seeing things.”

“The rumor mill rolled down here that you’d gotten a religious scholar with occult leanings involved in this investigation,” Dr. Alan said to Rafe. He turned his attention to Ashley. “I didn’t believe it at first, but I’m just wondering how far you lean toward the occult, young lady. Or maybe you’re a witch?”

Ashley laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Doc, but I am no practitioner of any faith. I’m just bringing an extensive knowledge of the occult and symbolism into the mix.” She eyed the covered body. “This poor soul bore no marks I could point to and say that’s what she fell prey to.” She gave Rafe a look. “Sorry, Detective, the search continues. Whatever this killer is up to, he’s not going to make it easy for you.” She shook Dr. Alan’s hand. “Thank you for letting me come down here and see her. I appreciate that.”

“I wish you’d have found something, I wouldn’t mind being shown I’d missed something if it led to this bastard’s capture.”

“You’re not going to miss anything,” Ashley assured him. “You’re very likely going to be kept in the dark also.”

“Are you a psychic?”

“No, sir, I’m not that either. If I was, I’d be the best-paid private investigator in the business!” She bid him farewell and tagged along after a clearly frustrated Rafe.

“We’re going to have more deaths, and the city is already frightened by the three we can’t explain.”

Ashley remembered watching the late-night news as she’d lain in bed alone. “Your chief, Detective Powell, gives many of the news conferences, doesn’t she? Shouldn’t it be you up there seeing as you’re the lead on the case?”

“She’s young, attractive, and chosen to be the department’s figurehead to tell the city we have everything under control. Better they see her than have my battered face and crew cut splashed all over the nightly news. How can I say I can protect the city when I couldn’t even protect myself?”

Ashley grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. “I’d rather have you reassuring me that everything is being dealt with than hear it from Detective Barbie!”

“Don’t let Alona hear you call her that. She has the biggest crush on her.”

“Let me guess, the no-fraternization rule is holding her back?”