Naked Dragon (5 page)

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Authors: G. A. Hauser

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary

BOOK: Naked Dragon
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* * * *

"We're passing around a composite sketch of the man that a witness saw with the victim as they entered the building."

The small agent handed two piles of photocopies to each side the room. "If you see a man matching this description lingering anywhere near the International District, stop him and ID him. I don't care how you do it, just get a name."

When Dave got the photocopy in his hand, it was exactly as he had imagined it would look knowing the description of the suspect first hand. He passed the rest to Lisa and then glanced up to see Robbie staring at him again.

"We are going to the community leaders now and warning them. We are also advising young men to use caution when associating with anyone who fits this description. So keep alert." Agent Skinner nodded to the captain who then nodded to the sergeants to continue with roll call.

"Right. Car assignments." Sgt. Wilson called his car assignments out loudly, then the next sector was given theirs.

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Once that had been done, the sergeant of the ACT team gave his out, until everyone in the room knew where they were supposed to be. Finally, Max, the homicide lieutenant moved to the front to be heard. "He's going to hit again. Most likely tonight. He's fearless and thinks he can't be caught. So far he has left nothing for us at the crime scenes. They are so spattered with the victim's blood and tissue that it's impossible to believe he can walk out without being covered in blood. But the witness said he was over-dressed for the heat so he may be wearing two sets of clothing. We're sending a K9 team to sniff around for anything left in the dumpsters and alleys. Just keep alert and be careful out there."

Sgt. Wilson asked, "Anyone have anything else? Any questions?"

When it was quiet and he was about to send everyone out, Robbie spoke up. "He watches the police. He may own a scanner. He's either been a cop or has studied them. He's very clever when it comes to evidence and evading capture.

My guess is that when we come close, he'll leave town and begin again in the next state, like he has so far."

When he paused, Dave raised his hand.

Robbie smiled at him and nodded.

"How many do we suspect he killed in Oregon?"

When the other two FBI agents looked constipated suddenly and no one answered, the homicide detective evaded it by saying, "That hasn't been determined yet."

"Too many," Lisa whispered to him quickly.

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Looking back at Robbie, Dave could almost hear him say he would tell him later, though he never moved his lips.

"All right, hit the streets. Be careful out there," Sgt. Casey said.

Standing up slowly, waiting to see if Robbie would speak to him, Dave assumed that wouldn't be his style, so they just smiled secretly at each other and parted ways. As Dave gathered his kit, Wayne nudged him. "Bet you get another one tonight."

"Christ, I hope not," Dave whined. "You're a jinx, Sanchez!" he shouted as he left the precinct to go to the parking lot. He heard snickering laughter behind him. "Please god, not another one," Dave mumbled to himself as he stuffed his kit bag into the passenger seat of his patrol car.

* * * *

It was just about that time. The bewitching hour for serial killing. As he sat and looked out over the busy streets, Dave imagined that monster already luring the young man into some awful hovel. The goose-bumps stood on his forearm in the muggy evening air. The radio dispatcher had gone silent and he felt his heart beating heavily in his chest as the sweat trickled down his temple. Turning the air conditioning up a notch, Dave adjusted the vents to blow the cool air on his skin. The t-shirt, the vest, the short-sleeved shirt and the long pants were too warm for such a hot night. He envied the bicycle cops in their shorts.

It was too quiet. He placed the car in drive and cruised along South Main Street, scanning right to left as if he were a 44

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robot, looking for a skinny white man and a young Asian boy together. All the while in his mind he was praying
No ... no ...

please, not another one tonight
.

A man in a beat up hatchback passed him moving in the opposite direction. Instantly Dave made a U-turn and tried to catch up to him looking for a reason for a traffic stop. Broken tail light. He flipped on his overhead lights and pulled him over putting out the license plate and location over radio as he did. He opened his door and moved towards the driver's side window, his hand on the butt of his gun, and found the nervous eyes of the man darting to his side mirror.

"License, registration, and insurance please," Dave said in a dry voice, all the while looking for blood and checking his face against the description.

"What did I do wrong, officer?"

"You have a broken tail light." He took the paperwork he was handed. "Sit there. I'll be back."

The man nodded weakly.

Just as he was bringing the man's ID to his car to run his name, the dispatcher called his sergeant over the air. His heart sunk.

"Two-George."

"Two-George," Sgt. Wilson replied wearily, as if he knew as well.

"Meet two-George-one at the location on your screen."

Dave clicked his mike before the other unit answered.

"Radio, I'll be clearing my stop in a minute. Give it to me."

"Copy, two-George-three. Two-George-one, stay clear."

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Dave heard the other unit answer the dispatcher. He looked down at the information and just for the hell of it he sat in his car and put the name into his computer. The driver, from Idaho, was clear of any warrants. With the paperwork in his hand, he walked back up to the car. "Here's your license.

Get that tail light fixed."

"Thank you, officer."

He took one last look at the man's strange face, then inside his car. It seemed very ordinary. Walking back to his patrol car with a heavy heart, he cleared the traffic stop from his computer and instantly heard it beeping with the new call appearing on it. 'Suspicious Circumstances'.

A voice summoned him over the air. His supervisor was asking him to switch to an alternate frequency. Dave acknowledged him and moved his radio channel to F1. "You there?" Sgt. Wilson asked.

"Yeah."

"You don't have to go. Let me get someone else."

"It's my district."

"Big deal."

"I'll see you there, sarge." He changed back to the correct station and knew everyone in the east precinct had listened to his sergeant's comments. People were nosy. Cops in particular.

When he arrived Sgt. Wilson was already there, waiting for him this time. Dave grabbed his hat, a fresh pair of rubber gloves, and climbed out of the car with a very bad attitude.

Why hadn't they gotten this guy yet? This is getting ridiculous.

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Sgt. Wilson stood waiting at the front of the apartment house until Dave met him. He said, "I didn't mean to embarrass you, Dave. I just thought you had enough."

"I know, sarge. But, I feel as if this is my case now."

"All right, bro, but if it gets too much, tell me."

"I'm all right."

After Sgt. Wilson nodded, he scanned down the list of names on the intercom and buzzed the manager. He announced once again, "Seattle Police!" and was allowed access. Before the door buzzer sounded, he tried the handle.

It was unlocked. "Looks like we didn't need help to get in this time."

"Has it been pried open?"

They inspected the lock. "Ages ago." Sgt. Wilson stood up straight as someone approached. In what felt like instant replay, they were led to another door with a single drop of blood running down it. "Who lives here?" Sgt. Wilson asked before the manager put in the key.

"A man just move in this morning. He pay a week rent."

Dave sighed, "That sounds familiar."

"Did you see him come here with another man?"

"No. I no see nothing. I hear loud music next door and I ask to turn down. When I pass this door I find this." He pointed to the blood, then turned the key and pushed back the door. "I get worried. No one answer."

Even though he promised he wouldn't flinch, Dave did.

"Did you go in?" Sgt. Wilson asked, snapping on his gloves.

"No. I no go in. I call police."

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"Good."

Dave asked, "You have all the information on the victim?

The young man?"

"How you know he young man?" the manager asked. "This happen before?"

Feeling like he just stepped into it, Dave looked at Sgt.

Wilson for help. The sergeant sighed and said, "Yes. It has.

Someone will be coming around to tell you about it soon. Do you have the victim's information?"

"I get for you."

"Thanks."

Dave looked at Sgt. Wilson and sighed, "Sorry, sarge."

"It doesn't matter. If you ask me, we should be broadcasting the information from every news channel. This silence only helps the murderer." He paused, then asked,

"Ready?"

"No, but go in anyway." Dave knew it would be a nightmare.

The door was pushed back slowly, and once again, with his hand on his holstered gun, Sgt. Wilson moved in cautiously, avoiding the horrendous array of human viscera. As he entered, Dave turned around this time to look at the wall near the door.
Dragon Killer
had been scrawled proudly in gooey blood.

He bit his lip in fury imagining getting his hands around this monster's neck, wanting to wring it until his eyeballs popped.

When he looked up, Sgt. Wilson was waving him back.

"Same thing. No need to look. Go get the info from the 48

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manager and I'll call homicide. Christ, this is getting really fucking old." He snapped off his gloves and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. "Let radio know we're under control."

"Right." Dave pulled off his gloves and clicked the mike, advising the dispatcher they were okay. Scuffing his feet tiredly, he moved down the hall like the life had been drained from him and knocked on the man's door. When it opened the manager invited him in and handed him a card with some information on it.

"This all I have. Just name."

"Okay. Did he pay you in cash?"

"Yes. In cash."

An idea hit him. "Do you have that money?"

"What? Do I have money? Yes. I have money." The man seemed confused.

Dave put his gloves back on. "Where is it?" He followed him to a small strong box and watched as he opened it. "No.

Please, don't touch it again. Just point to it." The man pointed to a stack of twenties. "How much did he give you?" Dave asked.

"One week. One hundred dollar."

"All twenties? These twenties?" Dave showed him five bills and waited for him to nod. "I'm going to take them into evidence. You'll get a receipt and be either paid back or get these back. Okay?"

"I get money back?"

"Yes. Wait here." He waited for the man's nod, then brought the money out to his car and opened his trunk. He pulled out the evidence kit and then stuffed the bills into an 49

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envelope, sealing it. Hurrying back inside with the packet, he found his sergeant still on the phone in the hall just outside the room. Waiting impatiently, Dave shifted his weight from side to side until he hung up. "Sarge."

"What?" he sighed tiredly.

"The manager said the kid gave him five twenties for the week. I know these kids are homeless so my guess is the cash came from the suspect." This pricked his sergeant's interest. "I took the bills into evidence. Here." He showed him the envelope. "Maybe they have the guy's prints on them."

"Yeah, his and three million other people's. But, it's worth a try."

"Do I give the guy a receipt or something?"

"I'll handle it. Just let the detectives and the agents know, just in case."

"Okay." He felt slightly deflated as he watched him head to the manager's unit. Sighing, he stuffed the envelope in his pocket and leaned against the wall by the door, waiting.

Within the hour, like a reoccurring nightmare, the men in white suits showed up first, then the men in dark ones. He gave the evidence lab men the envelope but none of them seemed too excited. Pouting, thinking he had the evidence to crack the case and now feeling like an idiot, he headed toward his car to begin writing the report. Small agent-man passed him on his way with the other non-descript agent, and then to his pleasure, Agent Taylor appeared climbing out of their black sedan. Dave waited for him as he approached.

* * * *

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Loving the sensual leer he was receiving, Robbie strutted directly to that handsome muscular cop. As Dave's eyes swept over his length, Robbie could almost feel the appraisal of his body like a tongue licking his skin. When he drew near and no one was around, he hissed, "Hello, gorgeous."

"Agent Taylor," Dave replied with a smile.

"I can't wait until tonight when I can get my hands on you."

"Me neither. I just wish I could get these gruesome images out of my head. I don't want it to put a damper on the night."

"Don't worry. I'll replace them with something else."

Robbie licked his lip teasingly.

"I'm sure you will!" Dave looked around again quickly.

As if an idea had entered his mind, Robbie concentrated for a moment even though the pause between them became awkward. Right before Dave asked what was the matter, Robbie said, "It was a good try. But it isn't going to help."

When Dave immediately opened his mouth in shock, Robbie said, "But keep trying. It may be the only way to catch him. I've got to go. Later ... right? You'll call so I can let you in?"

"Will you be there around nine?"

"I'll make a point of it."

"Okay. See you then."

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