Do You Want To Play: A Detroit Police Procedural Romance (3 page)

She nods. “But that is not how the world works.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the patrol officers walk out of the elevator. He has a manila envelope in his hands.

“Lauren Williams?” he asks. She glances over at him. He hands her the envelope.

“Thanks,” she says. He nods and walks back out to the elevator. Lauren looks at the front of the envelope.

“There’s no return address,” she says. She tears it open with her finger and empties it onto my desk. Only a CD-ROM in its case drops out. On the label of the CD, it says,
Playing with Hearts
. Her lips press together.

“What?” I ask.

“I think I just contaminated evidence.”

I stand up. “You think that’s from the PVP killer?”

“Nobody would send me a CD-ROM,” she says. “Who even owns CD-ROMs?”

I grimace. “There’s probably no prints on it anyway.”

“I’ll go get some plastic gloves from forensics,” she says. She walks out to the elevator. I keep my eyes on the CD-ROM. The killer must have seen Lauren at the last crime scene, but why wouldn’t he send the package to me, the lead detective? And what the hell would he risk having sent to a police station?

~~~~~

WITH PLASTIC GLOVES ON, I take the CD-ROM out of the case and put it into Tobias’ laptop. After a second, the words
Playing with Hearts
flash across the top of the screen. There are two options below it,
1 player game
and
2 player game.
A heart blinks in front of
2 player game.
I try to select
1 player game
, but the game doesn’t allow me to. I select
2 player game
.

The James Scott Fountain appears on the screen and a cartoon woman with light brown hair and dark brown eyes walks up to it. The shape of a man walks up to her and wraps his arm around her waist. They begin to kiss while the man’s hands roam down to the woman’s hips. I try to move the woman, but every time I move the mouse, the woman kisses the man and every time I press one of the arrow keys, she runs her hands down his back.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Are there two killers? The woman is his girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tobias asks. “You don’t see it?”

“See what?” I ask.

“That’s you,” he says. “The woman is you. And apparently the killer is the guy, which is why the guy doesn’t have any distinguishing marks.”

“What makes you think it’s me?”

“Because you were wearing those clothes when we were investigating,” he says. He’s right. The red blouse, the blue jeans, the red flats…even a silver chain necklace is visible. “Obviously, you caught the killer’s eye. He wants you. Apparently, you’re the killer’s type.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t…I’m not even that noticeable.”

“Well, maybe you have serial killer vibes,” he says. “Williams…I told you that you shouldn’t go with me to the crime scene.”

“This is good, Tobias,” I say. “The killer just gave us evidence.”

“You’re smarter than that,” he says. “He’s not going to leave fingerprints or anything.”

The characters on the screen are now lying on the ground and the man is undressing the woman. The words
+1 heart
pops up with every piece of clothing that comes off. I close Tobias’ laptop.

“He’s getting bored,” I say. “And when serial killers become bored, they slip up. They make mistakes. This is what we need right now. We need him to believe he’s better than us.”

“I’m not sure that’s a lie,” he says. “He doesn’t need to be a step ahead of us because we aren’t even in the same race as him right now.”

I look over at him. “Has your pessimism ever helped you?”

“I’ve only been shot once, so yes…it has helped a lot,” he says. “Pessimism would help you too right now. You should be thinking about the fact that this guy has thought about you enough that he made a video about having sex with you.”

“He’s just taunting the police,” I say. “He’s saying,
I saw who was at my crime scene and I’m not scared.
In the end, it has nothing to do with me.”

He exhales loudly.

“Well, let’s figure out who sent the package,” he says. “It either had to be sent through the mail or dropped off. Either way, we can figure out who it was.”

“Nobody is here, so we don’t have access to the surveillance cameras, and the postal office will be closed right now,” I tell him. “We should go home.”

He watches me as I put my coat on.

“You do realize that I’m not going to let you walk home alone?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission.”

“Well, you do. Because if you get killed, then I need to get another new partner and that doesn’t look good on my resume,” he says. He puts the CD-ROM in an evidence bag. “I’m going to put this in evidence. Don’t leave.”

~~~~~

Tobias stays a step behind me as I walk to my apartment. I keep my eyes forward, though I can hear his feet kick up fall leaves every few steps.

“Hey, pretty girl, you feeling lonely tonight?” a man in his twenties calls out to me from his stoop. He has spiky black hair and he’s toned but not muscular. This doesn’t stop him from wearing a sleeveless shirt and flexing as he walks up to me. “You wanna keep warm in my bed? I could make you feel things you ain’t never felt before.”

The man steps in front of me. I try to walk around him, but he stops me. Tobias’ body tenses and before I can react, he moves in front of me. He shows his badge.

“Why don’t you go inside, kid?” he asks. “Don’t harass this woman. Don’t harass any women. Just go into your house and be quiet.”

“Or what?” the man challenges. “You going to arrest me for speakin’? Freedom of speech, popo. Freedom of speech.”

Tobias’ lip curls up and for a moment, I’m afraid for the other man. Instead, Tobias takes a pad of paper out of his jacket.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks. The man’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Why do you need to know?” the man asks.

“Well, my partner and I are tracking down a murderer and the murderer has shown interest in her…just like you show an interest in her, so I figure I should add you to the list of suspects.”

“That’s not fair, man. I was just complimenting her. She has to know that she’s a pretty girl, and men would take a ride on that any day.”

“That’s not what I see,” Tobias says. “I see a kid who is harassing my colleague, just like a mass murderer is.”

The man shows Tobias his palms. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Apologize to my colleague,” Tobias says.

The man looks over at me.

“I’m real sorry, ma’am,” he says. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

He runs back into his house. Tobias puts his pad of paper and pen into his coat and we begin to walk again. A car honks as it passes by and a man blows a kiss at me.

“Does this happen a lot?” Tobias asks.

“I’m a woman in a city,” I say. “So, yes, it happens quite often. But thank you for scaring that guy.”

“Isn’t it irritating though?” he asks.

“It is,” I say. “But you get used to it.”

“If I were your boyfriend, I would be cracking some skulls,” he says.

“Good thing you’re not my boyfriend then,” I say.

“Mmm,” he says. “Maybe that’s why you’re not freaked out by the video. You’re used to that kind of thing.”

“Are you profiling me?” I tease. He tries to hide a smile. He takes a deep breath.

“Anna is my ex-girlfriend,” he says. “I proposed to her and she told me that she had been cheating on me for over a year.”

“Wow,” I say. “I guess that would make anyone bitter.”

He snorts. “I’m not bitter. I’m just realistic. People will always put themselves first. The only person you can trust is yourself.”

“Do you trust yourself?” I ask. He shrugs.

“Sometimes.”

“So, why did you suddenly decide to disclose all of this to me now?” I ask. He kicks a rock into the street.

“We work together,” he says. “We should know some personal things about each other. Besides, you told me about your parents and that is much more personal.”

“I wouldn’t make comparisons,” I say. “We all go through our trials.”

We stop in front of my apartment.

“Thank you for walking me home,” I say. “I’m glad we didn’t get attacked by a serial killer.”

“I kind of wish he did attack us,” he says. “Then I would be able to put him down.”

“Don’t say that,” I say. “Justice will be served.”

“You know how rare it is for that to happen, right?” he asks. I nod.

“But we’re on the case,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

He tilts his head. “I hope so.”

He reaches forward as if he is going to take my hand, but then his arm drops and he pivots on his heel. He walks away, the city lights eclipsing his body.

~~~~~

The tech guys have scoured the whole CD-ROM, but there is nothing on it that the killer left. To find the BTK killer the police managed to find metadata on a floppy disk, but this killer is immaculate.

“I might be adding technologically savvy to my profile of the killer,” I tell Tobias.

“Can you add a name to the profile too?” he asks. He rubs his face. “I asked Richardson to look into surveillance and the postal office. I have Pike looking into anyone who has bought CD-ROMs lately, but…it’s going to be the same as when we were looking for who bought the video games.”

I sip coffee from a styrofoam cup. Richardson walks up to the two of us, a big smile on his face.

“We found him,” he declares. “He dropped off the package himself.”

“The killer? Who is it?” I ask.

“Timothy Wood,” he says, showing a photograph of a thin man with sparse brown hair. I can’t make out much because the photograph is grainy. “I had to ask around quite a bit, but a waitress knew him and his driver’s license matched. Some patrolmen are bringing him in.”

Tobias brings up Timothy’s license on his computer. Timothy’s buggy brown eyes look back at us.

“Well, he doesn’t look sane,” Tobias says.

“Yeah…but the PVP killer wouldn’t be this careless,” I say.

“Nobody is perfect, Williams,” he says. “He had to slip up at some point. Most serial killers weren’t caught because of some super investigative skills. They were caught because they got cocky and then they got careless. I mean, The Son Of Sam killer was caught because of a parking ticket.”

“This guy is different,” I say. “It’s almost like he has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Maybe he does. He’s not going to mess up because of a surveillance camera.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the optimistic one?” he asks.

“Optimism without doubt is reckless,” I say.

“Well, it’s about time we get reckless,” he says. He stands up, his eyes looking over my shoulder. I turn around as two policemen walk Timothy Wood past us.

~~~~~

“TIMOTHY WOOD,” I say. “You have led an interesting life. You went to MIT at sixteen years old. Then you worked for Technoware and made more money in a year than I make in five years. But you quit a couple years ago. Why is that?”

“I wasn’t happy,” Timothy says, shrugging his small shoulders. Sitting across from us in the interrogation room with only a table in between, he seems harmless. Still, I’ve learned that everyone can be dangerous once they have a weapon.

“Maybe you needed a hobby,” I say. “Maybe…something that mixed real life with technology. Like video games. And killing.”

His eyes are blank for a second before his jaw goes slack.

“What? You think I’m the PVP killer? No way. I would never do that.”

I lean back into my chair. “How did you know that the PVP killer was connected to video games? We never released that to the public.”

His eyes narrow. “Like you said…I went to MIT at sixteen years old. I’m not a moron. I knew it from the murder with the guy who had the quincunx bullet wounds.”

“Quincunx?” Lauren asks.

“The five dots…four dots that form a square with one in the middle,” he says. “The symbol goes back to the Roman Republic times, but it was also part of the game
Joker’s Revenge
. In order to get extra points, the player had to shoot the opponent in the same pattern as playing cards.”

I glance over at Lauren. Her head is tilted and her eyes are scanning his face, trying to find a lie in his expression. I turn back to Timothy Wood and open up a manila folder. I take out the surveillance photo of him.

“Then explain to me why you were delivering a message from the PVP killer,” I say. “Does your new route to happiness involve being a courier?”

Timothy stares down at the photo. His face goes red.

“That…that’s what this is about?” he asks. “I had no idea that…the PVP killer was…I just received a note that told me to deliver it…I didn’t know…”

“So, you receive a note to do something and you just do it,” I say. “No questions asked? Should I ask you to do my dry cleaning?”

“I…” He closes his eyes. “I want my lawyer.”

“You call a lawyer now, the full force of the police will make sure you get put in prison for killing five people,” I say. “In my line of work, you see someone asking for a lawyer, that’s as good as admitting you’re guilty.”

“I’m not guilty!” he says. “I was…Jesus H. Christ, I was blackmailed, okay? The note said that if I didn’t deliver the package, some….some private information would be disclosed to the public about me.”

“What private information?” I ask. Timothy’s face burns.

“It can’t be worse than multiple homicide, Timothy,” Lauren says. He mumbles something.

“Speak louder, Timothy,” I say.

“He had photographs of me with a prostitute,” he mutters.

“A prostitute?” I ask. “That’s worth delivering an envelope that you have no idea what’s in it?”

He looks up at me with pathetic desperation. “She looked like she was sixteen.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Sixteen is the legal age of consent in Michigan. God, give me the grace to not smack this man.

“Where did you get the note and package?” Lauren asks.

“At the Greyhound station on Howard Street,” he says.

“They have surveillance,” Lauren says.

“Like you said, the killer is smart,” I say. “He would have chosen a time when the place was swarming with people.”

“Do you still have the note?” Lauren asks Timothy. He shakes his head. I let my head drop.

“He told me he would be watching me and when I finished delivering the package, I should leave the note where I found it.”

“Which either means the killer took the note or a janitor has taken care of it,” I say. “I hate this guy.”

“We can still get the surveillance footage and see if there is anything on it,” Lauren says. I slam my hand against the table. Lauren and Timothy flinch.

“What is the point?” I snap. “If he made damn certain that Mr. Wood didn’t know who he was, he knew we would track down Mr. Wood, so he’s not going to happen to walk in front of a surveillance camera with his face showing.”

“We could ask people who were there if they saw somebody—”

“Saw somebody put a piece of paper and package down?” I ask. “Because hundreds of people don’t do that at a bus station?”

“I don’t think anybody would have seen the killer put it down,” Timothy says. “It was tucked in between two chairs. Anybody could have pulled it out without being seen.”

“Great,” I say. “That’s fantastic. Good job, Timothy, you helped out a serial killer for the sake of making sure the public didn’t know you were a pervert.”

“I think you need to take a break, Tobias,” she says. She opens the door. I snap the folder shut. I take it with me as I walk out. Lauren follows me to my desk.

“You need to calm down,” she says. “Nobody will ever tell us anything if you’re freaking out.”

“I have been on this case for over a month,” I tell her. “The killer is taunting us now and I can’t waste time on his games.”

“Maybe it’s not a waste,” she says.

“You heard him. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Maybe it’s not about what he knows,” she says. “It’s about what the killer knows. How did the killer know that Wood was with an underage prostitute?”

I suck in a breath. “He had to know the prostitute or Wood.”

“Exactly,” she says. She gestures toward the interrogation room. “Should we question our current lead in order to figure out who our new lead is?”

I let out a breath. Lauren rests her hand on top of mine.

“This is the break that you’ve been waiting for,” she says.

“
We’ve
been waiting for,” I correct. Her smile is enough to make me forget to breathe again.

~~~~~