Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset (36 page)

“A woman escaped from that storage facility early this morning. She told our officers that she was being held there against her will. We searched the compound an hour ago and found a dead body in one of the units. Legally speaking we would call that probable cause.”

Barnesby’s cheeks flushed red. He drained the rest of the whiskey and set it down. “That fucking bitch!” He slammed his fist on the table, the force hard enough to knock the crystal glass to the floor, where it shattered. One of the broken pieces landed on his bare foot, and he jumped back, careful not to step on the shards. “Shit. Margaret!”

A few moments later the woman from earlier hurried from the living room, with Hart close behind. Barnesby pointed to the mess on the floor, and their “relationship” became clear. “Clean that up.” The maid was brown skinned, had thick black hair, and was young and voluptuous. Judging by the way she clumsily handled the dust pan and broom, she was hired for her other more attractive qualities.

With the woman cleaning up the mess and Barnesby fuming, Cooper tried redirecting the line of questioning to him while he was frazzled. “Have you done any recent development on the property?”

Barnesby massaged his forehead while circling the kitchen’s island. “No—well, yes. I fired the real estate agent that hadn’t done anything with the property since it shut down, and the new guy recommended we give it some curb appeal. Some landscaping, new paint job, that kind of thing.”

“Any upgrades to the property’s security?” Hart asked.

Barnesby looked at him as though he were an idiot. “It’s a fucking storage facility, not Fort Knox. Hell, I still haven’t been able to get rid of the shit people left behind!” He kicked the wooden paneling of the kitchen island and cursed under his breath. “Christ, I bet that bitch is laughing her ass off right now.”

“Have you had any buyers interested in the property?” Cooper asked. “Anyone that has stopped by to take a look?”

“I don’t know.” Barnesby thrust his hands up in the air then reached for his phone, ignoring both Cooper and Hart as he dialed. The maid finished scraping up the shards and sheepishly dumped them in the trash. Barnesby walked to the living room, leaving Cooper and Hart alone in the kitchen, though remained loud enough so the whole neighborhood could hear him. “Yeah, there’s a problem with the storage property… Well, that’s why I’m calling you now… I don’t care what they’re doing. When I pay a million-dollar retainer they come to me when I tell them to! Now get it done!” He stormed back into the kitchen, his demeanor significantly changed from earlier.

“Mr. Barnesby, when was the last time you visited your property on highway 86?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you account for your whereabouts last night?”

Barnesby took a few slow steps forward. His height gave him at least a foot on Cooper, and she felt Hart inch closer to her side. He tilted his head to the left and smiled. “I was here. Fucking my maid.”

The comment caused the woman to blush, and she lowered her head, taking a step back, trying to absorb herself through the wall. Hart stepped forward with one hand on the grip of his service pistol. “Mr. Barnesby, I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down? Someone was fucking murdered on my property! Do you know what kind of nightmare this is going to cause me?” He slammed his fist into the table again and rattled the salt and pepper shakers.

Cooper stepped around the corner of the island and maneuvered between Hart and Barnesby. “I’m going to need to speak with everyone who had access to that facility over the past three months. And I want it today.”

After a few mumbled curses, Barnesby finally backed down. He reached for his phone once more and dialed a number. “Susan, I need you to coordinate with the Baltimore Police in any of their requests. They’ll be in touch with you soon.” He hung up without further explanation and slid a business card across the slick kitchen counter. “My secretary will give you what you need to know. Now, if you don’t have a warrant, I suggest you get the hell out of my house.”

Hart picked up the card, and he and Cooper let themselves out. Once in the car Cooper slammed the door shut and tightened her grip around the steering wheel, stewing in silence. Hart turned over the business card then pulled out his phone and dialed the secretary’s number. After a brief conversation he hung up and pocketed the card. “She’s going to email us the list later this afternoon once she’s compiled all the names.”

“After she runs it by her boss first.” Cooper stretched her neck, trying to loosen her nerves. She exhaled and took a look at the time. “The body will have arrived at the morgue by now. Let’s go see what the doctor has to say about our Jane Doe.”

Chapter 4

When Cooper pulled up to the hospital and got out of the car, she was halfway to the entrance when she realized she was alone. She looked back and saw that Hart was still in the passenger seat, his head down and rubbing his temples. She walked back and pounded on his window. He rolled it down but didn’t look up. “What are you doing?”

Hart shook his head. “Look, I know this is all part of the job, and trust me when I tell you that I am not the squeamish type.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

When he finally lifted his head his cheeks were pale, and he looked far younger than his age suggested. “I’ll get used to it. But I don’t know if I can see that body again.” He looked back down to his feet, and he gagged.

Cooper leaned in the window and unlocked the back door, pulling her laptop out of the bag and handing it to Hart. “Why don’t you do some research on any convicts who’ve recently violated their parole? Look for offenders of violent crimes, specifically for rape of younger women. That’ll be a good starting point.”

Hart nodded. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Cooper clapped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You do realize, though, that you’re going to see more of this. I’d like to say it gets better, but it doesn’t. If you can’t thicken that skin of yours, you won’t last.” And with that she left Hart to his research and walked inside the hospital.
He’ll transfer out within the week.

The chrome of the table shone under the fluorescent lighting, and the sterile stench of death filled the room. The coroner retrieved the body, which looked much more peaceful with the white sheet over it, hiding the hideous wound that destroyed the victim’s face.

Doctor Hathaway had been the mortician at Baltimore General for twenty years, and it was Cooper’s longest friendship, though it was a term she made sure to use loosely around the doctor. He was an odd man, with skin nearly as pale as the dead he examined. His hairline had virtually disappeared, and the large coke-bottle glasses that magnified his eyes along with his thin frame made him look more insect than man. “The cause of death was from the object that bludgeoned her skull, and the time of death was somewhere between four and six o’clock this morning. The victim is in her late twenties, Caucasian. Early tests show no sign of any diseases or genetic abnormalities. The deceased was healthy.” Hathaway circled the body, continuing his rhetoric. “Most of the bone and brain matter was unsalvageable, though I did find light traces of iron and lead on some of the remaining tissue, which could have been from the murder weapon. The clothes weren’t hers. In fact, they were child sized. I managed to pull some fibers off and sent them in to be analyzed for DNA, along with the rape kit, but upon preliminary analysis there didn’t seem to be any signs of a forced sexual activity.”

“She wasn’t raped?” Cooper asked.

Hathaway pointed to the victim’s thighs and pelvis. “The tests will give us a better indication, but I didn’t find any bruising or lacerations normally associated with rape. I also checked the fingernails for any skin cells, but they’d been wiped clean.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Actually, aside from the brutal deconstruction of the victim’s face, the body was well cleaned and manicured.” He lifted the hand, and the nails were neatly painted and pristine. “The assailant did an excellent job of leaving the body in a preserved state.”

Cooper circled the victim in the same way the doctor had, thinking aloud. “So when the power goes out, the digital locks are useless, she escapes, and he chases her.” She leaned closer. The woman’s thick black hair still contained a vibrant sheen. She took a moment to examine the woman’s body. Fair skinned, a similar build to Kate Wurstshed, which suggested the killer had a profile he looked for in his victims. “The nails. The clothes. The hair. He wanted to make her look pretty. He wanted to give us a hint as to the type of person he is. He wants us to think that he cares about these women.” She shook her head, the words leaving a sour taste in her mouth, and she propped her hands against the table. “How much longer till we get the DNA results back?”

“Tomorrow. I marked it as priority.” Hathaway set the clipboard down over the woman’s stomach and crossed his arms. “Do you think the assailant has done this before?”

“I hope not.”

Hathaway stepped around the table, the shadows of the overhead lamp shifting and accentuating the extremes of his face. “But what do you
think
, Detective.”

“I think he’s done this before. And I think he’s done it a lot.” Cooper felt the coldness in her voice. Most of the deaths she dealt with were accidents, moments of passion. It was rare she came across something calculated, something evil.

Cooper stepped around the body and shook Hathaway’s hand. “Thanks, Doc.” When she returned to the car, Hart had buried his nose in the computer screen. She climbed behind the wheel and peered over his shoulder. “What’d you find?”

“So far we’ve got four possible matches.” Hart clicked through the screens, allowing her to see what they were working with. “Most of them robbery with assault, but nothing sexual, except”—he held up his finger, typing quickly into the search field—“this guy. His weekly check-in with his parole officer hasn’t been logged in, so I contacted the Maryland DOC, but the PO was in a meeting. I left a message for him to call me back.”

Cooper narrowed her eyes as she looked at the file. “Two rape accounts.” She shook her head and started the engine. “I don’t understand how these animals get back on the streets.” Hart buckled his seat belt as she shifted into drive. “We’ll head back to the station until we hear back from the probation officer. I want to have a chat with Mrs. Wurstshed before she leaves.”

Hart kept his head down most of the ride over, avoiding looking Cooper in the eye. She knew what he wanted to ask, but still he kept silent. Finally, halfway to the station, looking as though he were about to burst, he spoke. “Thanks. For back there.”

“It happens to everyone their first case.” Cooper shrugged. “You know how everyone you speak with that’s worked in homicide for a long time says you get used to it?”

“Yeah.”

“If you find yourself getting used to it, then quit. You start getting sloppy when that happens.” Cooper tightened her grip on the wheel. “Everything just becomes about the pension at that point. If the department gets too full with those bastards, then it sinks. And right now I’d say we’re barely staying afloat.”

“You talking about the captain?”

“The captain, and a third of the detectives and officers in the Baltimore PD. They’re just milking it, hoping they can squeak by for another few years, and the old boys at the top are content with letting them slither onward.” Her cheeks reddened just thinking about it.

Hart was quiet for a moment before he spoke. Then he turned and looked at her. “You know, a lot of the guys at the station don’t like you. And it’s not just our precinct—all of Baltimore PD knows your name.”

“The devil detective.” Cooper glanced at Hart. “That’s what they call me, right?” She chuckled at the nickname. “Could be a lot worse, I suppose. I’m sure there are some other variations out there that I haven’t heard.”

“So you did it?” Hart asked, the curiosity getting the better of him. “You testified against your old partner.”

Cooper tilted her head to the side, keeping her eyes on the road. “Danny and I had been partners for three years. We saw a lot of shit that you couldn’t unsee, but we always did everything by the book. That was our line in the sand.” The sadness that crept up into her throat surprised her. She hadn’t talked about the investigation out loud in a long time. “He had some gambling problems a long time ago, but he got better. Then he relapsed, got in deep with some people, and when he couldn’t pay them off, he started doing a few odd jobs for them.” Cooper pulled to a stop at a red light at an intersection and looked Hart straight in the eye. “He asked for my help. But what he wanted me to do crossed that line, and he knew it did. I want you to understand something right now, and make sure it sticks. Nobody, I don’t care if it’s Farnes or the chief of police, makes you cross that line. It’s yours. You lose that, and you lose your life. One way or the other.”

The light turned green, and Cooper returned her attention to the traffic up ahead. When she glanced over to Hart he kept quiet and looked out the window. After a while he shifted in his seat. “Then it’s true about the captain too, isn’t it?” His face turned pale like it did when he saw the body of their Jane Doe. “And his brother, the former governor.”

“Danny wouldn’t tell me who was pulling the strings at the top, making officers work the wrong side of the law.” Cooper ground her teeth and bit into her cheek. “But I know it was them. They’ve been making money off of crime for decades. The only difference between them and the mob is that the mob isn’t state funded.”

The rest of the trip was in silence, and by the time they arrived back at the precinct power had been restored, and the station had returned to its normal heavy traffic and commotion. Cooper went to the interrogation room where Hall and Kate Wurstshed had been earlier but found that Hall’s bald head had been replaced with slick-backed greasy hair. “Shit.” She opened the door and nearly closed it behind her, forgetting Hart was in tow. “I need a few minutes with your client.”

The lawyer looked up from the paperwork. His face was tanned and clean shaven. Every portion of his person was groomed, and the expensive suit was freshly pressed. “Detective Cooper. It’s always a pleasure to see you.”