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Authors: Lori Gordon

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BOOK: Deadly Consequences
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“The room is registered to a Mr. Harvey Wallbanger. It was paid for by one of those prepaid credit cards you can buy and load at a variety of stores and currency exchanges. You know, like a gift card.”

Sam felt the knot tighten between her brows. “Doesn’t the hotel require an ID at check in?”

The officers face reddened, “Hotels like this cater to the wealthy and famous. They said it’s not unusual for someone to check in under an assumed name but that they do require an actual ID even though they keep identities under wraps. The clerk at the reservation desk is new. She screwed up. The girl’s downstairs in tears if you want to talk to her.”

“Oh for crying out loud.” Sam threw up her hands. “My guess, if this was premeditated; the killer targeted the new girl on purpose. Apparently our UNSUB did his homework. Alright then, we’ll have to run the prints and hope we get a match.” She turned towards Matsuda. “So much for your playtime gone haywire theory.”

“Uh, Detective?” Matsuda interjected, ignoring her comment. “Perhaps you didn’t notice the victim’s finger pads?”

Her face crinkled as if she swallowed something rotten. “Prints cut off?”

“Burned off.”

“This case keeps getting better and better. All right, let’s get as many shots of the victims face as we can. Maybe we’ll get a hit with facial recognition. If not, we’ll have to rely on dental records.”

Lombardo’s eyes narrowed, a shit-eating grin on his face. It was clear he wanted to be the big dog on the scene and wasn’t above trying to embarrass her, “So, Sam I Am, any of your psycho, psyche senses kicking in yet?”

She turned to glare at him. As a result of the media frenzy after Melanie disappeared, her practice had taken a direct hit. Patients who depended on her for help felt compelled to turn the conversation towards
her
family tragedy, making for stilted awkward sessions The flow of new patients from referrals dried up. She was barely eeking out a living. After much deliberation, she decided to change her name professionally, shortening her last name from Blackstone to Black.

When she traded her psychologists couch in for a badge, her moniker changed once again. Samantha apparently was too much of a mouthful for her fellow officers.

They called her Sam Black.

It took some getting used to.

Wanting to test her mettle the day she arrived at the 18th, Alec, her newly assigned partner, nicknamed her Sam I Am. From him, it was annoying, but tolerable. Coming from Lombardo it just pissed her off, as did his snide reference to her former career. She drew herself to her full height of five feet two inches and stared down her nose at him. “As a matter of fact, yes, they are.”
Asshole,
she added, mumbling quietly so no one would hear.

A disturbance in the next room interrupted them. Sam swore under her breath. “Great. This night just keeps popping. Detective Cupcake decided to show up.”

“Sam, play nice. You were new once.” Lombardo chided.

“Yeah, but I was never that damn perky. Jesus, she’s like Susie Sunshine on steroids. Working Major Case Homicides? That’s just…creepy.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Lombardo whispered in her ear. “You may have a few years on her, but you’re still hot as hell.”

Sam choked back her disgust, “You’re a pig, Lombardo.” So much for attempting to have a civil conversation with him.

Before he had a chance to respond, Nikki Fletcher, her new partner in the wake of Alec’s temporary absence, burst through the doorway. “Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to get here. What’d I miss?” she asked without preamble in a breathy voice worthy of a Marilyn Monroe impersonator.

Sam restrained the urge to roll her eyes. Her “partner” must have been channeling the brand new twenty-six foot statue of the “Seven Year Itch” star that had been erected on the Magnificent Mile last week. Erected, being the operative word, given the lewd poses male spectators assumed underneath the statue and that Sam had the misfortune to witness each day on her commute to work.

Every man in the room stood a little straighter. Nikki smiled, tossing long red hair over her shoulder. The rain stopped hours ago, but her curls appeared slightly damp. Her simple white t-shirt molded to her body, as did her hip hugger jeans.

Friction bristled in the air. Sam waved Lombardo off and moved aside, giving Nikki a clear view of their victim. “See for yourself.”

Nikki fluttered her eyelashes at Lombardo and Mark Matsuda and she approached the bloodied bed. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, a cardinal sin when working a crime scene. Always pay attention to details. The younger woman’s five-inch stiletto heels tangled in the thick carpeting, pitching her forward. Sam’s mouth dropped open in horror. She leapt forward to catch her partner a second too late. Nikki landed with a solid thump on the victim’s body, pulling Sam down hard on her knees beside her.

Sam tightened her jaw to keep from losing her cool. Nikki shrieked, and gagged, clawing her way off the body. Lombardo rushed to the young detective’s aid, helping her regain her footing. Bits of blood and gore clung to her cheek.

Sam swallowed her irritation in an effort to remain professional and hauled herself upright, watching Nikki bend over and vomit, splattering the victim and the bed.

“Get her out of here,” she barked at Lombardo, searching for the videographer. “Did you get this on film?”

“Got it all,” the man said.

“We need a close up of the mess she made so we have it on record. Good Lord,
this
is who I have to work with?” Sam threw up her hands, glaring at Lombardo. “I said out. Now.”

Lombardo nodded, following her command. Sam waited until he ushered Nikki out of the room, then got back down on her hands and knees, taking a second look at the floor. A tiny slip of balled up paper lay beneath the bed, close to the headboard. Using the edge of her gloved finger, she coaxed it out. Like the bed and the carpet, it was blood-soaked, useless in its current condition. But perhaps with a little drying out, it could provide a clue. She called over one of the techs to bag it, knowing it could just as easily been there for days, wedged close enough to the leg of the bed to have escaped the maids daily vacuuming. In a word, she wasn’t getting her hopes up. Nothing was going right tonight.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to quiet the anger trembling throughout her body. She snapped off her gloves, rubbing the knot at the back of her neck. Matsudo looked at her in sympathy and motioned to the forensics team to take over. “You okay?”

Suddenly exhausted, she shook her head, “No, I’m not okay. Did you know how many ways she contaminated the scene? Jesus Christ. Hair, fibers, salvia, nail scrapings, vomit. If she hadn’t been busy sticking out her boobs, she might have watched where she was going.”

“Take a minute to calm down, Sam. We’ve worked a lot of scenes together. It’s not like you to lose your cool.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, “You’re wound tighter than a drum tonight. What’s going on with you?”

It would have been easy to crumble. He was right. This wasn’t like her. She took pride in her professionalism. Sam straightened her shoulders, pulling herself together. “What’s going on is that we have two crimes to solve and we’re wasting too damn much time.”

Matsuda placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently. “It’s a process, Sam. You know that. The victims are dead. All they have is time.”

“But we don’t. Not if we’re going to catch this bastard.” She ducked under the crime scene tape and headed to the suite they’d commandeered as a temporary command post to interview hotel staff and occupants of the floor. A few people remained scattered throughout the living room area. Their expressions held varying degrees of fear, nervousness, and trepidation. Sam smiled pleasantly, making eye contact with each person in the room before hunting down her partner.

Lombardo had taken Nikki Fletcher to one of the bedrooms. He perched uncomfortably on the edge of a dresser. Sounds of water running echoed through the bathroom door.

“She’s still cleaning up?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. She feels real bad about what happened. I’m pretty sure I heard her toss her cookies a couple more times,” Lombardo said.

“Okay, thanks for keeping an eye on her. Can you give us a minute?”

“Sure.” He pushed himself off the edge of the dresser. “You want I should start interviewing the people in the next room?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. He had no business being here. This was her case; she should be the one conducting the interviews. But. She glanced at the bathroom door. Her gut told her Nikki was going to be next to useless for the rest of the night. “Yeah, thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

She rubbed her eyes, steeling herself to deal with her partner. While it was true that Nikki had messed up royally, landing face first on a pulpy mass of blood and gore would be traumatic for anyone. Good partners watched each other’s backs. It was on her to make this right.

“Nikki?” She rapped on the bathroom door, “How’re you doing in there?”

Silence greeted her. Sam sighed, knocking a second time, “You all right?”

Still no response. She tried the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand. Easing the door open, she peered inside. Nikki sat on the toilet seat, face buried in her hands.

Despite her earlier anger, she felt a stab of sympathy for the other woman. She was new to the precinct and managed to humiliate herself in a big way on her first assignment. It was a hell of an impression to make
.

Years of training as a psychologist kicked into high gear. Sam may have traded her therapists couch for a badge, but she couldn’t turn a blind eye to someone in pain. Nikki’s shoulders shook from the force of her tears. Sam crouched down in front of her, and took hold of the other woman’s wrists, gently pulling them away from her face. “Hey, you gonna make me work this scene alone?”

Unable to shield her face, Nikki bowed her head, eyes trained on the ground. Make-up streaked her cheeks; her eyes reddened and puffy.

Sam didn’t know her partner well enough to know what tact to take, forcing her to make a split second decision. The woman was a cop; she had to have some toughness inside her. Treating her with kid gloves might compound her humiliation.

“You plan on sitting on your ass all night while Lombardo does your job for you? Come on pull it together. You’re not the first cop to throw up at a crime scene, and you sure as hell won’t be the last. I’d kind of like to get some sleep tonight, so if you don’t mind, let’s get back to work.”

Nikki raised her head. For a fleeting moment, Sam saw doubt and anguish on her face. “You want me back out there?”

“You think I want you sitting in here all night? You messed up. It happens. What matters is how you deal with it. You can hide out here and be a baby, in which case I’ll have to report you to Lieutenant Ashborne, or we can get out there, do the job, and get on with it. Your choice.”

Nikki studied the floor for several long moments before running her hands over her tear-streaked face. She looked up, and forced a bright smile, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Let’s do this.”

Sam smiled back, secretly disturbed by the odd light flicker in Nikki’s eyes. A stab of apprehension sliced through her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the other woman if something else was bothering her. She stopped herself just in time. She wasn’t the girl’s babysitter. If Nikki wanted to make it on the job, she had to learn to pull her weight, no matter how bad the scene.

“Do you want me to question the witnesses?” Nikki asked.

Sam took one look at her partner’s blood smeared clothes and mottled face. She’d scare the hell out of them. “Not looking like that. Find out from CSU if they’ve recovered a cell phone or computer. See if the victim made any calls from the room. Get copies of the surveillance tapes. You know the drill. I’ll take care of the witness statements and check back with you when I’m through here.”

The transformation was unnerving. Nikki squared her shoulders and shook out her long red curls. Her features shifted. The flirtatious smile and slightly narrowed eyes slid back in place. Her hips swayed with borderline suggestiveness as she walked from the room to complete her assignment.

Sam sighed. Her headache expanded to her temples. She rubbed them, listening to Nikki call out to Lombardo and giggle.

God help her. Sam shook her head, unwrapped a Hersey’s kiss, popped it in her mouth, and tried to shake the bad feeling that settled in her gut.

 

For more information on

Till Death

Please visit the author’s website

www.lorigordon.net

 

From the Skinbone Harris – Sierra Montgomery

Suspense Novel Series

 

State of Panic

 

BOOK: Deadly Consequences
9.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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