Maniacal: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller Book 1 (3 page)

“Okay. I think that’s all we need for now. We appreciate your help. Please call us if either of you think of something else, no matter how trivial it might seem. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to keep the gruesome details quiet. I’d hate to have this incident start a countywide panic.” I gave the waitress a ten and told her to keep the change.

Jack wrote down their full names, phone numbers, and addresses. We stood, gave them our cards, shook their hands, and left.

“What do you think?” Jack asked as we walked back to the scene.

“I think this entire area needs a thorough going-over, even beyond the police tape. I’m going to talk to Kyle some more.”

The coroner’s van was backed to the water’s edge. Doug and Jason zipped the young man into a body bag, placed him on a backboard, and carried him to the van.

“Kyle, got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Do you really think this was the actual dump site? There’s no way the guy floated along the bank to this spot?”

“I doubt it. His body was partially on the shore, which doesn’t happen naturally when one drowns. I’m pretty certain this was the site. We’ve searched for trampled grass and any evidence that a body was dragged to the water, but everything looks normal. The grass is too short to fold over, but the deputies will keep looking. Lieutenant Clark told them to stay out here all day.”

I remembered Leo’s statement being almost verbatim to what Kyle had just said. “Would it be possible for somebody to carry a body from the road? It’s a quarter mile back to the water.”

“He’d have to be big and strong, but it’s certainly doable. Like I said before, he could have entered anywhere along the lake and walked the shoreline. Keep in mind, Jade, that there are numerous short streets that take you to the cottages along the lake. The killer could have parked anywhere, not just at the main road.”

“Yeah, I know, just thinking out loud. How long before we can print the body?”

“We’ll do that first when we get back to the station. I’ll give you a call if we get a hit.”

“Thanks, Kyle. Jack and I are going to knock on a few doors around the lake. Maybe somebody saw a car parked out here last night. We’ll catch up with you at the station later.”

We spoke to four homeowners on the west side of the lake and five from the area nearest where the body was found. Six other homes looked to be weekend retreats or rental cottages. We saw no signs of anyone at those residences. The curtains were drawn, and the driveways were void of cars, boats, or Jet Skis. We kept our conversations short and vague, hoping somebody had information for us, but nobody did. Not one person had seen an unfamiliar car, or any car for that matter, parked along the road or in the parking lot of the boat launch last night. We thanked the people we spoke to and left.

“Three hours of asking questions and we have zilch,” I grumbled as we climbed back into the car and headed out. “In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting much given the remote area and likelihood of this being a late-night dump. I guess hoping for anyone that could ID an unfamiliar car was wishful thinking on my part considering how dark it must be out here at night.”

Jack wiped his forehead with his wet jacket sleeve. “Remind me to carry a few towels when we go door to door in this kind of weather.”

I nodded.

“Anyway, I bet a good number of these folks turn in right after the ten o’clock news. Still, it seems like the perp would have to be familiar with the area. It isn’t like there’s a sign advertising Cedar Lake off the interstate, you know,” Jack said.

I looked out the car window as Jack drove back toward town. Around us were neat, clean houses sprinkled a half mile apart with a lot of farm fields in between. Parents raised their kids there. School buses picked up those same youngsters at the end of the driveway. Violent crime was uncommon in Washburn County. North Bend, the largest city in the immediate area—and the county seat—was still considered primarily a rural, folksy town. Maybe that was what the killer was counting on.

We drove in silence for a few minutes. Different scenarios popped in and out of my mind, and I felt a headache coming on. My temples began to pound.

“Are there any aspirin in the car?” I opened the glove box and began a fruitless search.

“Doubt it.”

I groaned and rubbed my damp head. “Does Doug seem off to you lately?”

“You mean more than usual? Like how exactly?” Jack glanced in my direction, his right eyebrow raised.

“I can’t put my finger on it, just more matter-of-fact, I guess, and since when does he call me Sergeant instead of Jade?”

“Yeah, that’s a recent change, but you were just promoted.”

“I think he’s still humiliated that I turned down his dinner invitation. I mean, for God’s sake, two days after Lance moved out, he asked me on a date. I’m so over men… nothing personal.”

Jack laughed. “I’m not taking it personally, but now that you mention it, you could be right. Don’t forget, it was his wife who climbed the corporate ladder and divorced him. Doug makes good money, but Linda’s income dwarfed his. I think he was actually envious of her, then she moved on without him. I bet he thought he’d have a shot with you.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so. According to what everyone said, Doug and Linda weren’t the best match anyway.”

“Right, but maybe he feels you knocked him down a few pegs by dismissing his dinner invite.”

I gave Jack a stare. “Coworkers shouldn’t fraternize anyway. I just wish he’d go back to calling me Jade like he used to.”

“You might be overthinking this, partner. Doug’s an all-right guy. He’s probably getting tired of the daily grind.”

“But he’s been the ME forever.”

“Exactly. Speaking of Lance, how’s it going with him anyway?”

I smirked. “Were we?”

“His name came up ten minutes ago. Anyway, what’s going on with him?”

“He drives me nuts. He calls or texts almost daily to see if I’ve set up an appointment with a Realtor yet. He can’t wait to get the house sold so he has his half of the money. I’m sure his little girlfriend is anxious for him to propose so they can start a family. He’s a pain in my butt.”

“You still sound bitter.”

I jerked my head to the left and stared at Jack again. “Seriously? Our divorce was just finalized two months ago. I actually thought I was going to be married to that man for life. I think I’m allowed to be bitter, at least for a few more months. There isn’t a handbook for the way to feel after a betrayal, you know.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. How’s the Internet dating going? Find any hot babes yet?” I laughed when I noticed Jack blush.

“It’s going…very slowly.” He shrugged. “I never knew how much people exaggerate until after I met a few gals. They say they’re single yet somehow forget to mention they have four kids under the age of ten.” He shook his head and smirked. “So far, I’ve struck out in the romance department. For now, the online dating is getting shelved. It looks like we might be busy with this case anyway.”

“You’ll find the right girl when you least expect it. So the saying goes.”

I gave Jack a thoughtful gaze. At thirty-five, he was a handsome man and a really good friend. Short, nicely styled black hair and dark eyes mixed with that dimpled grin made him more than appealing. His muscular body and six-foot frame always made me feel safe in his presence. I was thankful to have Jack as my partner. He had two fun-loving brothers and really sweet parents. We knew each other’s families well, as close as we were. Someday, he’d make a good husband for a lucky lady.

We turned left onto Schmidt Road and pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot. Jack killed the engine, and we exited the car. The sheriff’s department was located in a tan stucco building. Located on the east side of the city, our part of the government complex included the sheriff’s department, jail, morgue, ME’s office, forensics lab, and the technical department. The impound lot sat within a chain-link fence behind our building. The large county courthouse with all the annexes faced south on Washington Street.

We shook out our wet jackets as we entered the vestibule through the heavy glass double doors. We hung them on the few available hooks just beyond the front reception counter. The glassed-off dispatch area was directly behind that, with a security door leading to the bull pen and our lieutenant’s office. Anyone wanting to visit inmates would sign in at reception and be taken down a hallway to the right and up a flight of stairs to the jail. A visitation room resembling a cafeteria was available for inmates and their guests to spend an hour at a time together, twice a week. Turning left from the reception counter led down a narrow hallway to the stairs. Pictures of previous sheriffs going back to 1922 lined the walls on either side of the hallway. The ME’s office, morgue, crime lab, and tech department were located on the lower level of the building.

Jack and I turned left. Eight Italian marble steps down and a stainless steel handrail took us to a hallway on the bottom floor. The first room on the right was the crime lab. We pushed through the glass door and saw Kyle seated in front of his computer. He had returned early with Doug and Jason to work on the fingerprints.

“Got anything?” I asked.

We grabbed a couple of roller chairs and pulled up alongside him.

“Yeah, we have a fingerprint match. I was just about to call you. Take a look. This guy has plenty of priors. His rap sheet is extensive for a kid”—he paused to scroll the sidebar—“that’s only twenty years old. Name is Morris King, and he’s been around the block a few times, starting with juvie at age eleven. Petty theft, burglary, battery, and most recently he spent six months in jail for distributing controlled substances, primarily oxy.”

“Where did he live?” I leaned over Kyle’s shoulder to take a closer look.

“Milwaukee. Address is in the inner city off North Avenue. Nothing good ever happens in that neighborhood. A lot of gang-related activity like drive-by shootings, robbery, battery, and rape. It’s all par for the course in that area.”

“Did you figure out what was in the baggie?”

“Yeah, OxyContin. As far as the body goes, he looks relatively clean on the initial exam, according to Doug. The autopsy hasn’t begun yet, but the kid doesn’t have any track marks or other obvious signs of substance abuse. Toxicology will take a few days.”

“Hmm… okay. Print out the home address for me. Ready for a drive, Jack? It looks like we’re off to Milwaukee to notify his family.” I checked the time on the analog clock above the bank of computers stationed at the back wall—almost two p.m. “Maybe we can grab something at a drive-through on our way.”

My cell phone rang just before we headed out. Clayton was calling.

“Hey, Jade, just checking in.”

“Clayton. How’s the search going?”

“Still nothing. Found a few old rusty chunks of metal in one field. Looks to be something that fell off a tractor. Other than that—zilch.”

“Yeah, sounds like our perp covered his tracks pretty well. You’ve got four deputies out there with you?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, give it another hour or so, then call it quits. Report in to the lieutenant when you get back. Jack and I are headed to Milwaukee to inform the next of kin.”

“So the boys found a fingerprint match?”

“Yeah, they sure did. It looks like the kid has been in the system for a while.”

“Roger that. Okay, talk to you later.”

At three o’clock, we pulled up along the curb in front of a modest, worn-looking clapboard bungalow on Garfield, just south of and parallel to North Avenue. Plastic sheeting covered a broken window, and the peeling paint curled upward from sun damage and years of neglect. Fallen roof shingles lay in the unattended weed-filled yard. The neighborhood was littered with vacant boarded-up houses mixed in with the occupied ones. Images of criminal activity filled my mind thanks to the unkempt area and the number of people lingering at street corners and on stoops as they watched us exit our unmarked cruiser. That was one of the most run-down, crime-ridden areas of Milwaukee.

I knocked on the door twice before I heard footsteps approaching. A deep growl came from not more than ten inches away. Only a front door that had seen better days separated us from what sounded like a large, angry dog. The curtain to our right shifted. A man’s face stared out at us, giving us the once-over. He looked to be a tall, skinny man in his midforties, I’d guess. He resembled the type of person that got most of their needs fulfilled with beer and cigarettes rather than healthy meals.

“Sir, we’re with the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department.” Jack and I showed him our badges through the glass. “We need to speak to somebody about Morris King. We’d like to come in, but the dog will have to be removed from the room first.”

“What’s this about?”

“Are you related to Morris King, sir?”

“I’m his uncle and his legal guardian. What do you want?”

“May we come in? We have information about Morris.”

He dropped the curtain back, and I heard him call the dog away. The sound of footsteps returned, and he opened the door to the end of the chain lock.

“Is the dog secure in another room?”

“Yeah.”

“May we enter?”

He closed the door, released the chain lock, and opened it fully.

“Sir, I’m Sergeant Jade Monroe, and this is Detective Jack Steele. We’re from the criminal investigations unit of the sheriff’s department. We’d like to talk to you about Morris. Your name is?”

“The name is Terrance King. Criminal investigations unit? What did Morris do now?”

He pointed to the sofa. He took a seat on the rocking chair facing us from the other side of the small living room. I did a quick assessment of the area I could see. The smell of stale cigarettes and garbage filled the house. I wished a window had been open. Dirty ashtrays sat scattered about on every flat surface. Disarray was rampant. What looked like years of stacked newspapers and magazines sat in the corner of the living room. Most of the window blinds had broken slats, and the beige carpet was threadbare and filthy. A quick glance into the kitchen told me the dishes hadn’t been washed in who knew how long. They overflowed the sink onto the countertops, and the table was just as bad. I turned my attention back to Terrance King.