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  Try me. “What?”

  “I’m looking at a supplemental report from another officer called back to the scene just two days ago.”

  “Supplemental?” Only used when something needs to be added, maybe a witness.

  “Yes, let me scan through it for a minute.”

  “See if there’s anything that mentions a tan or beige Caprice.” Patrick chewed on his fingernails. It’s gotta be him.

  “Beige Caprice?”

  “Scott, the car was witnessed at two locations in town. One involving a murder, the other a missing person’s case.” Soon to be another dead body.

  A short pause ensued. “Fuck me, our witness statement mentions it…this is our guy.”

  Yes. Patrick slammed his fist on the desk. “Any plate information?”

  “Can’t seem to find any, but I’ll go talk to this guy myself, just to make sure.”

  “Is there any way you would be able to fax me the report so I can take a peek?”

  “Of course. I’ll send it ASAP.”

  Patrick loosened his tie. “Great. Let me know if anything pans out with your witness.”

  “Gotcha. Let me get moving on this, and I’ll keep you posted.”

  Patrick opened his notebook and turned to the page with the vehicle description. “If I find out something on my end, I’ll give you a call, as well.”

  “10-4. I hope you get this son-of-a-bitch before he does it again.”

  “Scott, so do I.” Patrick hung up, staring at the photos of Justus Alleandro. He made a few notes and closed the folder. Patrick was about to call Commander Cromartie when his portable radio exploded with activity.

  “Dispatch to Detective Morgan,” the voice squelched.

  Patrick grabbed the radio. “Go ahead with your transmission, dispatch.”

  “Sir, I need you to respond to United Ministries on 1229 Euclid for a Homicide.”

  A church? Now that was fucked up. “10-4, dispatch. Better give a heads up to the Commander and get him rolling.”

  “Sir, officer on scene indicates it looks like the missing Jamie Brooks.”

  Shit, too late to save her. “10-4, dispatch. I’m en route.”

  “Roger that, sir.” the radio went silent.

  Patrick grabbed his coat and bolted out of the office. The bodies of New Haven’s citizens were piling up, and without identifying the driver of the Caprice, there was no telling how many more would be added.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Donovan stopped in front of the immense structure and admired the mirrored glass, which covered the entire building. Expensive. He continued inside to the entrance, which was manned by two well-dressed security personnel. One of them gave him a most disapproving stare. The bald-headed goliath snickered, motioning for their guest to come forward. Donovan took off his suit jacket, dress belt, and removed a handful of loose change from his front pocket. He placed it on the conveyor belt of the x-ray machine, stepping through the magnetometer. The quiet hum of the device signaled he was cleared to enter further into the facility for his interview with Brandon Thornley. One of the guards handed him a map, circling his destination.

  Show time. Donovan followed the directions, maneuvering the winding hallways. Several people did a double-take as they passed by. Simple-minded fucks. He stopped in front of a bank of glass elevators and pushed the button. Donovan was about to step in when he felt a tap on his shoulder. A husky, middle-age man in a dark uniform grinned at him.

  “Sir, excuse me. Are you Donovan Petrie?”

  Hmm, welcoming committee…nice. “Yes, and you are…”

  The man extended his hand. “Monty York. Boss sent me to meet you.”

  The man wasn’t even fazed by my appearance. Donovan cocked his head. “Already keeping tabs on me?”

  Monty laughed. “Mr. Thornley knows what’s going on everywhere in this building.”

  Probably doesn’t know I’m going to kill him. “Well, that would be a good thing.”

  “Just think of Mr. Thornley as a high paid Santa Claus…knows when you have been naughty or nice.”

  Definitely naughty this year. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Monty ushered him onto the elevator. The man took a key from his ring and inserted it into a lock on the elevator panel. He noticed Donovan was starting at him. “Nobody can get to the administration offices unless they have this.”

  And if everything goes right, I will. “Tight security.”

  Monty clipped the ring back onto his belt. “That’s how the boss likes it.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Monty escorted him through a maze of corridors, passing large offices at every turn. They finally stopped in front of a set of double doors. There were no markings on the nameplate, and in all actuality, the entrance looked very ordinary compared to everything else Donovan had seen. Monty led him inside, and to the right was another interior door surrounded by Plexiglas. Now, this is what I expected. Monty knocked twice before they walked in.

  Donovan glanced around the room, noticing only a few pieces of furniture. The room’s real attractions were the countless die-cast action figures scattered throughout and framed movie posters that covered all four walls. The guy likes sci-fi. Donovan raised an eyebrow at his tour guide as Brandon Thornley studied several folders on his desk.

  He looked up, smiling at his visitors. “Monty, thanks for bringing Mr. Petrie up. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

  “Yes, boss.” Monty exited.

  Brandon Thornley pushed himself away from the desk. Donovan was surprised at how chiseled the Security Director was. Stronger and larger than me. Brandon stood up and reached for the hand of his visitor. The sheer force of the man’s grasp almost caused Donovan to grimace.

  Brandon smiled. “Glad you could make it today.”

  “Thank you, sir. Been a while since I’ve done this sort of work.”

  “No worries. We can put you right back into the thick of things.” Brandon motioned for him to sit.

  Donovan grinned. “Sir, I have been doing something totally different the last few years.”

  Brandon reached into his sports coat and pulled out two cigars. “De Lase, my favorite. May I offer you one?”

  Donovan fingered the fine import. “Been a while for that, too.”

  “Ha! Then, Mr. Petrie, it’s definitely time.” Brandon reached over and grabbed a silver lighter. Donovan noticed it was monogrammed with the letters GT. I know those initials. “So, what have you been doing? The online application just says private contractor.”

  Just fucking killing people. Donovan puffed on the cigar. “Mr. Thornley, I have been involved mostly in construction stuff…using my hands to create things has been my latest passion.”

  Brandon nodded. “I admire you for that…leaving a possibly profitable career to follow your heart.”

  Donovan sighed. “It’s been exciting, but with the economy the way it’s been, I figured it would be best to get back into my field.”

  “Well, Mr. Petrie, I’m extremely glad you thought of us. I usually scour the database a few times a week for viable candidates, and man, it was a blessing to see someone with your skills on the market.”

  This guy is actually digging me…that’s fucking weird. “Well, I’ll tell you something funny…or, maybe I shouldn’t—”

  “Don’t leave me hanging now, Mr. Petrie.”

  Should I tell him? Donovan took another puff. “Okay, I joined this social networking site and saw your name on there.”

  Brandon cocked his head. “Konnect2u, right?”

  Dead right. “That’s it. I read your profile and decided to send you a friend request.”

  Brandon rubbed his chin. “The snake design with a heart…very intriguing style you have.”

  Donovan shook his head. “Thanks. I like to think I have a unique style anyway. I check your posts daily, and it sort of got me thinking about the security field again.”

  “Again, lucky for us, Mr. Petrie.” Bran
don placed his cigar in a black glass ashtray. “Maybe I will have to advertise job openings on my page?” Brandon grinned. “That’s truly one way for social networking to have an impact.”

  There will be another way. “I just think I’m ready to come back to this.” Donovan finished his cigar.

  Brandon eyed him, then grabbed a pen from his desk drawer. “If you’re ready to get back in the groove, we need you here at Langston Security Solutions.” He scribbled on a few pieces of paper and pushed the folder across the desk. “This is the packet I need filled out for security clearance and access. Once you’re done, take this down to Jade in Human Resources on the first floor. She’ll get everything you need: badge, photo identification, security code access, etc.”

  Donovan stood up. “Brandon, thanks for this.”

  “No need to thank me…just do a good job, Mr. Threat Assessment Analyst.”

  I intend to. “When do you want me back here?”

  Brandon peered down at his desk calendar. “Monday. Is that enough time to finish any projects you have?”

  “I only have one left…should have that knocked out by tomorrow.” More than enough time.

  “Excellent, Mr. Petrie, let me know. Don’t hesitate to give me a call if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  Monty York returned, escorting him to the first floor, then on to Human Resources. Donovan finished up with the HR office, then headed to his car in the parking garage. He studied the notepad on the passenger seat and thought about the abusive biker from Plaxton’s Super Center. One more kill left before I get to you, Mr. Thornley…just one more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  United Ministries was once a thriving house of worship. Parishioners filled the seats and raised their voices to the heavens. Even the youth choir was paramount in contributing to the church’s success. The yearly vocal competitions usually resulted in the addition of extra income to add to the organization, in the form of purchasing much-needed spiritual literature to hand out to the non-believers of New Haven.

  Today, however, the crumbling structure was just a refuge for runaway pets and their occasional food source. Patrick Morgan was amazed that the members of the church let this great landmark of the city fall to the wayside. The former pastor of the church had spent his whole life building up the congregation, and after the man’s sudden death, the church members started to dwindle in number, and the programs offered almost disintegrated overnight. Only a few hard-core followers remained, which forced the executive board to cease operations. This was the telltale result. So is life and…apparently death.

  Patrick looped his shield around his neck as he exited the vehicle. The desolate neighborhood was now populated with scores of New Haven patrol units, and it even appeared that the local fire department had responded. Hope we don’t need them. He had made it only a few steps when a newly academy-trained officer stopped him.

  “Sir,” he stammered.

  Just a little nervous. Patrick glanced down at his nametag. “What’s up, Officer Rhodes?”

  The sandy haired man shook his head. “Looks like it’s the missing girl.”

  “Jamie Brooks?”

  He nodded. “Yes…but it wasn’t easy. Some of the…um…local wildlife got to her, sir.”

  Dead and fucking eaten? “Officer Rhodes, is Commander Cromartie here?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Okay. Make sure we have the medical examiner on the way.”

  “Already been contacted.”

  “Good.” Patrick pointed towards the building. “Is it safe up there?”

  Officer Rhodes gave him a nervous smile. “Fire guys walked through…said they didn’t think it would collapse.”

  “Wonderful.” Patrick waved to him.

  The ground surrounding the latest crime scene was thick with snow. Patrick trudged his way through, taking note of the lack of footprints along the way. Within a few minutes, he was inside, heading towards the second floor. There were officers still marking the scene with yellow tape when he arrived at the top of the landing. A police officer Patrick had known since starting at New Haven had tears streaming down his face. He pointed to the last door at the end of the hallway.

  As Patrick approached the splintered entrance, the pungent odor of rotting flesh attacked his senses, causing his eyes to water. He choked back his urge to contaminate the crime scene as he moved into the interior room. The apartment was larger and in better shape than he expected. Patrick gawked at the living area, and even through all of the decay, could see this used to be someone’s home.

  A few yards to the right was a plain pine door, and Patrick could hear voices coming from behind. He eased it open and saw the room was barely larger than a walk-in closet. It had been converted into a makeshift kitchen with a coffee-stained table and broken microwave. Two plainclothes officers were standing around the nude body of a young girl snapping photographs.

  That’s her. Jamie Brook’s blackened and decomposed body was on the opposite side of the table. She was wired to a metal chair that was way too small for her. Patrick noticed bite-sized chunks of flesh were missing throughout her body. She didn’t deserve this. He moved in behind the victim. Most of the crime scene had been repeated except for the four dark candles. They were present, but the long broad wicks remained, which indicated that maybe the killer had been interrupted.

  Patrick cleared his throat. “Who called this in?”

  One of the plainclothes officers stopped taking pictures. He slightly turned his head. “Young kid. He was sledding or some shit and had to use the restroom.”

  Patrick cocked his head. “So he broke in?”

  “It appears that way.”

  Patrick sighed. “Who is he…and where’s he at now?”

  “Fifteen-year-old Aiden Jacobs. He lives a few blocks from the church. He said this place has been quite busy the last week or so.”

  Not so abandoned. Patrick’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” The officer thumbed over in the direction of his partner. “The kid told Steve and I that about once a day, somebody is wandering around here.”

  Somebody is our killer. “Can I speak with him?”

  “We can’t get in touch with either of the parents yet. Officer Wright is sitting in front of his house. The kid has a sister who can give us consent.”

  That’s where I’m headed. “You find anything else?”

  The officer pumped his fist. “Bet your ass we did. Check this out.” The man walked over to the microwave. He reached up and withdrew a brown paper bag, then handed it to the detective.

  Patrick gave him a questioning look before opening it. Holy shit. Patrick peered in, and was so overwhelmed with excitement that he almost spilled out the contents. “Where was this at?”

  “Sort of strange…over there in the corner.”

  The fucking same place? “We need to get DNA off it ASAP.” Patrick closed the bag. “I need the info on that boy. As of right now, he’s the best lead we have.”

  The officer handed him a piece of paper. “Officer Wright is outside the house.”

  “Great, when Commander Cromartie gets here, tell him I went over to check on this.”

  “Sir, you think the boy saw something worthwhile?”

  Patrick glared at the broken corpse of Jamie Brooks. “For everyone’s sake, I fucking hope so.”

  * * *

  Patrick squinted at the piece of yellow paper, as he finally found the address for Aiden Jacobs. The narrow alley wasn’t cleared, and maneuvering the unmarked over fresh snow bordered on treacherous, even for an experienced driver like Patrick. He slid to a stop, just barely avoiding the parked patrol unit of Officer Wright. Patrick exited and stopped at the rear of Wright’s vehicle. Officer Wright forced open the door.

  The stout, pock-marked faced officer lifted himself out of the car, smiling at the investigator. “Hey, boss. The kid’s sister just showed. I told her to wait inside until you got here.”

/>   “Great, did the boy say anything to you at all?”

  Officer Wright adjusted his duty belt. “Nah, he looked pretty scared…was quiet as a goddamn church mouse all the way here.”

  Finding a mutilated dead girl will do that. “Hmm. Hopefully, he can give us something.”

  Patrick and Officer Wright made their way through the broken tree limbs and scattered garbage. The remains of a recently slaughtered deer was hanging on the rear of the porch. Patrick covered his face, shaking his head at Wright. The older man chuckled, as he pushed the carcass aside without the slightest hesitation.

  Fucking nice. Patrick felt the sting of the frigid air whip around him. “No screens?”

  “Guess that’s on the makeover to-do list, huh?” Officer Wright blew into his gloveless hands. He tapped on the door, but there was no answer.

  Patrick scowled. “You gotta be kidding.”

  Officer Wright shrugged. “Not surprising.” He knocked again; this time, the door hinge shook with violently. Patrick could hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming from above. About time. The door creaked open. A blond boy, no older than his mid teens, was standing in the entryway. He was shirtless, and several scars covered his lanky midsection. Patrick grimaced. Razor strap.

  “Mom and Dad aren’t here. You cops?”

  Patrick nodded. “We are.”

  The boy bit on his fingernails. “I’m a little scared. Don’t want to get in trouble.”

  Patrick smiled. “We’re not here to get you into trouble. I’m Detective Morgan, and that’s Officer Wright. We just have a few questions for you, son.”

  Aiden Jacobs folded his arms. “Megan says I should tell you, but I don’t want to get in trouble—”

  “Nobody’s in trouble…just want a little help from you.” Patrick smiled.

  “Help? I was so scared when I saw…the girl.” He motioned them inside to a tiny living room. Most the furniture appeared to be second hand, and the only evidence of modern technology was a red and turquoise lava lamp. Aiden seemed to notice the reaction of the officers. “Dad doesn’t like televisions or electronics of any kind. He thinks they rot your brain, and they are evil.”