Resuscitation (25 page)

Like a man waiting for the results of a biopsy, Julian paced the floors, impatiently anticipating Nicole’s return from Los Angeles. Angry and frustrated at his wife for sabotaging his plan and returning home much sooner than he had hoped for, he could feel the blood throbbing in his temples. A woman with an acutely suspicious nature, Nicole would force a conversation about the cabin Julian supposedly tried to buy in Big Bear. Cunning in the fine art of spousal debate, she would likely pose pointed questions that Julian was not fully prepared to answer. Questions to trap him. Having been married for over ten years, he felt certain that her attack would be thorough and strategic. He tried to anticipate what she might ask, hoping to compose a carefully thought-out script, but he found it impossible to focus his thoughts. All he could think about was when he would have the opportunity to perform his research on another subject. And of course, thoughts of what he had done to Rachael hung in the back of his mind.

Nicole’s premature return also interfered with Julian’s task to dispose of Beer-Man’s vehicle. It sat in the underground garage below his loft, and he still wasn’t sure how to get rid of it. It was a loose end he needed to take care of immediately. Fortunately, it was tucked away in a dark corner, so he doubted anyone would notice it.

About to grab a cold beer from the refrigerator, he heard a tire squeal. He poked his fingers through the wooden blinds and looked out the window. His wife’s silver Range Rover sat in the driveway.

In an effort to reduce the possibility for conflict, Julian dashed out the door and greeted Nicole with a firm hug, hoping his gesture might temper another clash. “Welcome back, Sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

“Can you grab my luggage, please.” Her voice was cold as dry ice. She followed him into the living room.

“How was traffic?” Julian asked, hoping to keep the conversation benign.

“It was nuts getting out of LA, but once I hit the San Diego freeway, I got in the left lane and didn’t once touch the brake pedal.”

“Girls okay?”

“They’re fine. They love staying with my parents.”

“Want something cold to drink or a little snack?”

“No, I’m good.” She plopped down on the leather sofa. “But I would like a couple of Advils. My head is pounding.”

“Sure thing.”

Nicole swallowed the medication and drank the entire glass of water.

“My parents are moving back to San Diego,” Nicole said, her abrupt announcement blindsiding Julian. “In fact, they’re working with a real estate agent right now, looking for a home in La Jolla.”

He felt as if a bomb exploded inside his head. Her statement caught him completely off guard. When she had said, “We have to talk,” he was sure she wanted to discuss the Big Bear incident. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect such a consequential bit of news. “But I thought your parents loved living in Santa Clarita.”

“They do. But they love Isabel, Lorena, and me more. Even though I take the kids up there a couple times a month, it’s just not enough for them.”

Except for a SWAT team breaking down the front door with a battering ram and arresting him for murder, Julian didn’t think anything could possibly be worse than Nicole’s announcement. “How soon is this going to happen?”

“They already accepted an offer on their home. They just need to find a place here.”

With that statement—a stake driven through his heart—Julian watched all of his dreams and expectations evaporate before his eyes. If this were to actually happen, unless he could find small windows of time for his research, having his family there all the time would clip his wings forever.

“You don’t seem all that thrilled,” Nicole said.

“You’re misreading me. I’m happy for them. I’m just surprised.”

“Look at it this way. We’ll have access to the best babysitters on the planet anytime we want them. Think of the possibilities.” Nicole smiled for the first time since returning home.

Oh, how Julian thought of the possibilities. None of them having to do with his family or Nicole’s parents. He had reached a defining moment in his life. As each day passed, and he moved closer to the research grant, closer to fulfilling his dream, everything else in his life had become secondary—even his daughters. It was a bitter realization, one he’d been wrestling with for months, but he could no longer lie to himself. The grant meant everything. Recognition meant everything. And one thing was certain: No force in the world could stop him.

For privacy, and to ensure that no one would hear their conversation, Detectives Sami Rizzo and Richard Osbourn grabbed a couple of coffees from Starbucks in Pacific Beach, drove to Crown Point Park, and walked on the boardwalk. As was typical this time of year, dark puffy clouds dominated the sky anywhere near the ocean. It was a phenomenon San Diegans call May Grey and June Gloom. But in spite of the unfriendly-looking skies, the air blowing in off the bay felt warm.

Unlike the weekends, when the area buzzed with activities—picnickers, joggers, Rollerbladers, kids doing tricks on their skateboards—today, like most weekdays, there was very little going on in the park.

Sami sipped her soy milk latte. “Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d pay six bucks for a fancy cup of coffee.”

Osbourn laughed. “Starbucks sure has made the whole concept of coffee chic.”

She picked up the pace a bit. “Tell me a little about yourself, Richard.”

“There’s not too much to tell. Born and raised in Ocean Beach. Love to surf. Got my degree in criminal justice from SDSU. Married my high school sweetheart. Two lovely daughters. Wanted to be a cop since I was twelve.”

“What brought you to homicide?”

“This may sound a little cliché, but I really want to make a difference. It seems naïve, but it’s how I feel. I watched my drunken father regularly use my mother as a punching bag. Until one day, when I was a teenager and strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with the son of a bitch. I beat the shit out of him. He never touched my mother again. Since that day, I vowed never to hurt another human being unless in self-defense.” Osbourn took a long gulp of his coffee. “I really want to lock up the bad guys.”

“How does your wife feel about you working in homicide?”

“She hates that I’m a cop—tries to convince me to quit nearly every day. But take my word for it, as much as I love my wife, if it ever comes down to police work or her…I’m not sure what I’d do.”

“Don’t you think the constant controversy with your wife will distract you?”

Osbourn shook his head. “We all have distractions. Some can deal with them. Others can’t.”

Who knew more about distractions than she did? Her lover’s sister lay in a coma. Her mom had just undergone open heart surgery. She’d just dropped out of school. She narrowly escaped an appointment with the Grim Reaper at the hands of a serial killer. And she now wore the gold badge she swore she’d never wear again. Yes, Sami thought, she had the market cornered on distractions.

“I have the option to partner with whomever I choose on the serial killer investigation. And I have to make that decision quickly.”

“I suppose I haven’t earned the department’s respect yet, Sami. But I assure you, if you give me a shot, I’ll work my butt off to nail this asshole.”

“The pressure to apprehend this guy is going to be intense,” she warned. “From the mayor on down, everybody’s got this investigation on their radar.”

“I spent four years in the Marines, two of which were in Iraq disarming IEDs. So I guess you can say that I’m somewhat familiar with pressure, Detective Rizzo.”

His last statement pretty much closed the deal. “So that explains the military buzz cut.”

“Guess I kind of got used to no-maintenance hair.”

“Are you sure you want to place your marriage under this kind of strain?”

“Makes little difference whether I’m investigating a single murder or serial killer. Either way, my wife won’t be a happy camper.”

If Sami based her decision totally on logic, she’d be compelled to partner with a more experienced detective. But, as she had done so many times in the past, she relied more on her instincts than reason. “Let’s head back to the car and get to the precinct. We’ve got lots of work to do, partner.”

Sami stood in front of the whiteboard and paced back and forth. Detective Osbourn sat on a chair and planted his elbows on the metal table, next to the case folder. The murky twelve-by-twelve room, normally used to interrogate suspects and interview witnesses, smelled like a high school locker room.

“This is what we’ve learned thus far,” she said. She turned her back and started writing on the whiteboard. “All four victims—two male and two female—had their chests cut open and their ribcages spread apart. Cause of death for victim one was a massive stroke, and for victim two, cardiac arrest. Victims three and four were identified a short while ago but we have very little information on them, and we’re still waiting for COD.” Sami opened the case folder and flipped through the pages. “Victim three was Robert Winters, and number four was Rachael Manning, both twenty-eight years old. They were engaged. Unlike victim one and two, our guy performed surgical experiments on their kidneys, liver, lungs, and pancreas. The perp sexually assaulted victim four, a female, and the ME found traces of semen in her vagina, rectum, and mouth. Their chests were stapled with surgical precision. And our guy performed some sort of experiments on their hearts that do not look like the work of a hack. Except for victim three, a white male found wrapped in a sheet, each victim was dressed in expensive, designer clothes. Our guy left the price tag on the outfit the Foster girl was wearing and it was from Saks Fifth Avenue. Al spoke to the salesperson that sold him the outfit, but she gave us only a few clues. Our perp is tall, attractive, and has black hair. And one witness said he wore a navy-blue Chargers cap.”

Sami turned and faced Osbourn. “Am I missing anything?”

“Only that the first victim,” Osbourn shuffled through the folder, “the Foster girl, met the perp at a restaurant called Tony’s Bar and Grill, in the Gaslamp District, and Detective Diaz interviewed Foster’s friend who was with her the night she disappeared.”

“Good catch,” Sami said. “What’s the friend’s name?”

Osbourn searched the folder. “Katie Mitchell.”

“Knowing Al, I’m sure he did a thorough job interviewing her, but—”

“Want me to give her a call?” Osbourn offered.

Sami nodded. “That’s all we’ve got right now. If she can’t come to the precinct today, we’ll go to her.” She picked up the folder and looked through every piece of paper. “While we’re at it, let’s check out Tony’s Bar and Grill and see if anyone remembers seeing Foster or our guy.”

Instead of cooking, as he often did, Julian convinced Nicole to pick up some Chinese takeout from the Dragon Palace, their favorite Asian restaurant. He felt more nauseous than hungry, but had to get something into his stomach. Enjoying the brief period of solitude, he sat on the leather recliner and turned on the television, curious to see if the police department had released any new information. He flipped from channel to channel until he found the local news.

“This just in,” the female newscaster said. “A KNET exclusive. An undisclosed source tells us that Mayor Sullivan personally contacted veteran homicide investigator Samantha Rizzo and convinced her to return to the police department and lead the ongoing investigation into the recent serial murders in San Diego.

“Detective Rizzo is best known for her harrowing experience apprehending Simon Kwosokowski, the serial killer who crucified four women a little more than two years ago. Unless the governor issues a stay of execution, which seems highly unlikely, Kwosokowski is scheduled to be put to death by lethal injection on Friday at noon.”

Julian grabbed the remote and turned off the television. “Detective Rizzo,” he whispered. Bad enough having to deal with Nicole and the kids, and now his in-laws, but having Sami Rizzo leading the investigation added a whole new dimension to the hunt. She had earned a reputation as one of San Diego’s best cops.

This could get interesting
.