Calling the Dead, page 7
“Enough psychobabble for one night.” Keegan kissed Jacqueline’s cheek and headed for her own car. “See you at home.”
Alone with only Alicia Keys on the radio, Keegan thought about what Jacqueline had said. She’d had numerous relationships, and none of them had gotten past the three-month mark because that’s how long it took for her to admit defeat. When that happened, only Jacqueline said anything. Their mother Melinda stayed quiet—not because she didn’t care, but because after the death of her lover she’d been as unlucky at love as her daughters.
Sept was out of her range of experience, and that was how she intended to keep it. Especially now that she felt raw after Donovan’s death. The last thing she needed was someone who could break through every barricade she’d built around her heart.
Chapter Eight
Before Sept went home to an empty apartment, she drove to the park once more. She parked there but headed to the complex where Robin Burns lived, then backtracked to the park.
Most of the streetlights down the path Robin Burns would’ve taken were working, but that hadn’t mattered to her. Robin merely followed Mike’s lead on a route she’d probably memorized and could’ve walked herself, but the outings hadn’t been for her. Sept was sure that Robin loved her dog, and the outings had been for Mike.
As she walked, Sept studied the houses along the way and the spots where a predator could hide to pick his prey. The burned-out shell of a house stood a block up from the park, its roof missing, windows blown out, and the front of the second floor black from flames. Only one spot appeared sturdy enough to stand on.
The porch stretched the length of the house, and though the very end of one side had partially caved in, the other side had survived. Something about the abandoned building made Sept stop and pull out her cell phone.
“Nathan.” She said his name as soon as he answered. “The burnt house in Robin Burns’s neighborhood, did the crime units look inside?”
“Just the porch, but they didn’t see anything but the mess the fire department left. Need any help?”
“Where are you?” Sept pulled out her flashlight and stepped up on the porch. “You still at work?”
“I’ve been reviewing files, but most of the stabbings in the last couple of years happened when some idiot drank too much or tried to solve a bad marriage.”
“Get someone to sit on this place tonight. I found something.” She flashed the light on the banister. “See you in the morning.”
In the corner of the porch she noticed a grouping of small nicks on the banister rail. They were so small that whoever had checked the area had probably missed them, but unlike the rest of the wreckage, they were fresh. Someone must have stood there and waited but, impatient, had picked at the wood with a knife.
Each stroke had cut through the burned wood, but left no noticeable jagged edges. Looking down the street, Sept could see the back side of the park, since the trees had shed their leaves, and also the corner in the opposite direction.
“If I was standing here waiting, I could easily spot someone being literally led by a dog. When they pass I just follow, stab the dog, and then get what I really want.”
She called George to make sure he and Alex would be there in the morning. The house was already burned, so it would be easy for someone to destroy evidence they thought they’d left behind.
“You aren’t a ghost, are you?” Sept walked to the spot where she’d found Mike but didn’t locate any other clues. “But you come damn close. It won’t matter in the end, though. No one’s so good that I won’t eventually catch him.”
*
When his eyes opened, the sun had set and the sheets around him had ripped and bunched under his back. He felt no discomfort, though, as he lay quietly and waited for his only friend.
“You’re right. I’m the only one who understands why you hurt.” The voice was so real he sat up and scanned the room, sure that this time someone would be standing there. “If you do your job well you might see me, but before we continue, it’s not too late to turn back.”
“No.” He stood up so abruptly his cherished knife fell and embedded itself in the wood floor at his feet. “I’ll do whatever it takes, but you promised me.”
“Calm down. You have to control yourself or you will get caught before you reach the door.” The voice was so loud he put his hands to his ears. “From now on I’ll call you Novice, because you have a long road before the gods will be fit to send you any favor but me.”
“Thank you.”
“Get ready, because tonight we hunt again. Only this time you won’t find what you’re looking for in blood.”
“What does that mean?” Novice asked as he yanked his knife from the floor and wiped the blade with his shirt.
“You have to learn what to do so the sacrifices will have meaning, so clear your head of everything else. If you don’t, I’ll only get weaker.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
“You might turn out to be the perfect student, Novice.”
*
“What’s next?” Nathan asked.
It was a good question, but unfortunately Sept had no ready answer. The marred wooden banister was the only clue in the abandoned house. Soot had covered where the killer stood, but he’d dragged his feet on his way to the sidewalk, so she didn’t even know his shoe size.
“We wait and we keep talking to everyone who lives within a two-mile radius of our crime scenes. Right now we don’t have a choice.”
“Wait for what?” Nathan sat in the passenger seat of Sept’s car and clicked his pen until Sept grabbed it and threw it over her shoulder. “Wait…you mean we have to sit around until he does it again and hope he screws up?”
Nathan was obviously horrified and Sept figured that if he stuck with this job that reaction would eventually lessen. As a detective you became almost numb to atrocities, and that insensitivity brought its own outrage. But it was the only way to survive the job without going insane.
“Hopefully something will break before that happens, but we have to face reality. Since his timetable seems to have slowed somewhat, maybe we’ll get lucky and someone will remember something small.”
“Have you at least figured out why?” Nathan asked.
They had been at the burned-out house most of the day, and Nathan had been quiet as he combed the section she’d assigned him. She assumed he was questioning her now because he didn’t want to sound foolish in front of the others.
When Sept remained silent, he said, “Sorry, that’s a stupid question.”
“If you’d asked me what kind of underwear I use, that’d be a stupid question.” She stopped in front of their precinct and cut the engine. “But if it has to do with the case, don’t ever think that.”
“So why’d he do it?”
“Could be for the thrill, or just to see if he could—who really knows? Why do you think he did it?”
“Because he’s sick and sadistic? What guts does it take to kill someone who can’t see it coming?”
Sept recognized the signs of frustration. “Don’t let your anger get in the way of the work, because if you do, you’ll miss everything but the guy holding a big knife. Enjoy your day off and I’ll see you on Monday.”
*
For the next week Sept held her breath every time she walked into the precinct, but every morning Royce Belanger shook his head. Their killer had taken two lives, and just when he seemed to have developed a taste for killing, he’d gone underground.
When she dropped into her chair, Royce asked, “You’ve still got nothing?”
“I’ve got what I had yesterday, so yeah, basically we got nothing.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. “Maybe we’ll luck out and the asshole will come in and confess.”
“If you’re waiting for that, you need to put in for some time off,” Sebastian Savoie said. He’d been in the precinct chief’s office for an update. “You have time for coffee with your father?”
“Yes, sir.” Sept grabbed her jacket and shrugged when her father shook his head, obviously disappointed in her casual outfit. But jeans were the only clean pair of pants she had left.
There were places closer than Café Du Monde, but Sept knew how much her father loved the beignets and how much her mother controlled his diet. Hopefully the location would improve his mood.
After Sept placed their order, Sebastian said, “Tell me what you’ve got on this.” The wind was really gusting outside so they’d opted for the close-to-empty inside room. “Because if I believe the chief, all you have is two dead people.”
“Then you shouldn’t think he’s pulling your leg every time he tells you something.” Sept picked up her water glass and drained it as a way to postpone the fallout. Usually when things weren’t going well in your job, you just had to worry about an ass-chewing from your boss, but your father’s disappointment was an extra treat.
“Sept, I put you on this even though it wasn’t in your area, but the media is starting to smell a bigger story than rebuilding after the hurricane, so I don’t want to hear the word ‘nothing.’”
“I had Uncle George examine both crime scenes, and all the perp left behind is two dead people.”
Their coffee arrived with a plate heaped with beignets. Sebastian picked up one of the fried treats and knocked off half the powdered sugar, probably as a compromise to his wife. “Tell me what you won’t tell anyone else.”
“It’s the same guy, and it is a guy.” Sept put her elbows on the small round table and lowered her voice. Only four other people were in the room, but she didn’t want to be overheard. “If I’d responded to the park scene first, I still would’ve connected it to the Blanchard’s scene, but I wouldn’t have guessed how much he enjoyed it.”
“You think he’s on a schedule?”
“I’m just grateful he didn’t start out with a nightly thing.”
Sebastian tapped another beignet free of powered sugar and dunked it in his coffee before taking a bite. “So he likes it and isn’t predictable. What else?”
“He’s good because he’s left no trace of himself except the clean stab wounds.” A group of rescue workers sat down close to them and Sept stopped talking.
They’d first come to town during the flooding to pluck people from it, but now they lived in a tent city by the river and were helping search for bodies in the miles of ruined neighborhoods. Also, police officers from numerous cities were there helping the NOPD’s depleted numbers.
“You’re still holding back. What’s in your gut?”
“The first two weren’t planned. The victims were convenient targets at a time he was asking himself if he was capable of the deed. If he’s been wondering about it for a while, he’s sure now. He’ll do it until we stop him.”
The cups were empty and the beignets gone, so Sebastian put his coat back on and led her into Jackson Square. They stopped in the spot where the president had promised to rebuild New Orleans.
“Standing here, you’d never guess the shit storm we’re in,” Sebastian said as he stared at the statue of Andrew Jackson. “Something happen this weekend? Your mama’s never happy when you don’t show up on Sunday.”
“I wanted to have something to say when we had this conversation, and I knew we’d have it soon, so I was working.”
“That’d be a good excuse for anyone but your mama. Don’t let it happen again.” They walked through the park to the area in front of St. Louis Cathedral. “What were the designs on Robin Burns’s chest about?”
“I don’t know.” No matter how long Sept stared at those pictures and researched them, she still didn’t have an answer. “You have a guess?”
“From your report he knelt in Donovan’s blood, then took up finger-painting with Burns. You don’t have any idea?” Sebastian asked as if he didn’t believe her answer.
“He knows he can kill, knows he likes it, but he still hasn’t discovered why. The designs on Robin’s chest show he’s evolving.”
Before Sebastian got into his waiting car, he said, “Sounds like you’ve got more than nothing.”
“What I need, though, is a way to get into this bastard’s game.”
*
Sept’s phone rang as she walked back to the precinct, and she laughed when she saw her mother’s name. “Either you’re showing a lot of restraint or you’re mad at me.”
“You know, Sept Savoie, one of these days you won’t have a mother worried out of her mind over you.”
“It’s lucky that I do,” Sept said as she started toward home. “I guess Dad didn’t make any excuses for me.”
“He took up for you like he does for all of you when you’re working on something, but that’s not going to fly this Sunday, in case you’re thinking of making it two no-shows.”
“I wouldn’t consider it. I bet I lost five pounds this week alone.” Sept knew how to get her mother to fret about something else.
“I’ll make extra this weekend, then.” Her mom paused, and Sept knew she was trying not to upset her with what came next. “Your father told me you saw Damien.”
“He came by the precinct last week.” Sept didn’t want to elaborate.
“How’d he look? He rarely returns my calls, and that’s not like him.”
But elaboration was exactly what Camille wanted, Sept thought. “It’ll take time, Mama. He needs to talk to someone about what happened, and until he does, all that stuff he’s bottled up is just going to fester.”
“You need to talk to him.”
“I did. I talked to him, Ralph talked to him, and Gustave stops by his place once a week to talk to him,” Sept said of her boss and her older brother. “Damien doesn’t want help, but maybe with some more time he’ll realize he can’t get over this alone.”
Camille’s sigh came through clearly over the line. “I keep thinking of Noel and how she suffered. Maybe that’s what he can’t accept.”
“Mama, you can’t dwell on that.” It was easy to say but impossible to believe. Sept drove herself constantly so she wouldn’t have time to replay her sister and niece’s last moments. “Aren’t you the one who told me this happened for a reason?”
“I’m not questioning God, but nothing makes this easier on any of us. Your sister loved Damien with the same devotion I have for your father, so we can’t abandon him because it’d help the rest of us forget faster.”
“I’ll go talk to him again,” Sept said, to appease Camille before she started crying.
“And you’ll be here on Sunday early.”
“And I’ll be there Sunday early,” Sept dutifully replied.
“Now do your mother a favor and go eat something. Every single one of you took after your father when it comes to getting wrapped up in work and forgetting about everything else.”
“Stop worrying, and I’ll see you Sunday.”
Camille’s suggestion would have to wait until she stopped by for a drink. Her phone rang again as she turned onto Royal Street, and she figured her mother knew her better than she thought. “I’ll eat something later, I promise.”
“Just because I cook doesn’t mean you have to eat it,” Keegan said.
“Sorry, I thought you were my mother.”
“She calls you to remind you to eat?”
Sept laughed. “If that’s the only thing she called to remind me of, I’d have it made. What can I do for you?”
“I know it’s not your job to provide me with updates on Donovan’s case, but I haven’t heard from you in a week. Is there anything new?”
From the noise in the background Sept could tell Keegan was at work, because someone was saying her name and something about veal. “If you want I’ll tell you how badly it’s going.”
“How about you give me a couple of hours, then come by? That way you won’t have to lie to your mother about eating. I’ll trade you a veal chop for some answers.”
“You don’t have to give me anything.”
“Two hours, Detective, and come hungry.”
Keegan hung up and Sept thought about the dinner she’d shared with the Blanchard girls the week before. If she’d had to write a review of the evening, she would’ve focused more on how good Keegan’s lips looked after each sip of wine than on the food. “This time concentrate on your plate, Savoie, or you could be in serious shit.”
Chapter Nine
When Sept reached Blanchard’s she saw only a few diners left in the downstairs main dining room having coffee. She’d had to shower and change, but having spent the day in a burned-out house had left her no choice. She hoped Keegan didn’t think she wasn’t eager to be there.
The hostess told her, “Ms. Blanchard is waiting for you in the kitchen, Detective.”
The cooking staff was gone, and the cleaning crew had started, but Keegan stood in front of the grill with a blue bandana tied around her neck. She flipped two pieces of meat, then stirred whatever was in the frying pan with a flick of her wrist. If Sept tried that move, she’d be cleaning the floor.
“I might have to make something up so you think you’re getting your money’s worth,” Sept said as she peeked over Keegan’s shoulder at the pan. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“Eating is more than just survival to my family, Detective, so yes, I did, since I haven’t eaten either. If it eases your conscience, you can tell yourself this is more for me than you.” Keegan put the veal chops on plates, then placed the sautéed-garlic-encrusted green beans she’d saved from the dinner rush next to them. The plates then went into the dumbwaiter in the opposite wall for their trip to the second floor.
“Are you officially off duty?” she asked Sept as they climbed the steps.
“As of two hours ago, so if you need some parking tickets fixed you’ll have to catch me in the morning,” Sept said as they reached the garden room. The plates and an open bottle of wine and two glasses were on the table by the windows that overlooked the yard.
