Don’t Look Now, page 25
Next came the rattle of metal instruments and the almost-silent tug of the scalpel through flesh. Always distracted by the visual, Jordan had never noticed the subtle sound of the knife tip, the tearing back of the flesh, the snap of the ribs with bone cutters, and the sucking sound of the rib cage rising off the body cavity.
Dr. McIntyre inventoried the organs, which were all of normal weight and size. Finally, she packed the organs in the body cavity and sewed the flesh back together. She next confirmed that the victim had been sexually assaulted, likely several times given the vaginal bruising. She collected semen.
In the end, the cause of death was asphyxiation, as it had been with the other victims. “I’ll have a full report in a few days. Tox screens will take a little longer.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Jordan said.
“Call me if you need anything.” Dr. McIntyre’s tone sounded genuine and heartfelt.
“Will do, Doc.”
Spencer offered his elbow, she took it, and he escorted her to the changing room. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I’m operating on the assumption that the surgical tape was a message for me.”
“Okay.” He stripped and wadded up his gown. It whooshed across the room and hit the disposal bin. A nothing-but-net dunk.
She stripped off her gloves and gown, balled them up, and aimed toward the bin. The bundle hit the ground. “So much for basketball.”
Chuckling softly, he crossed the room, and seconds later the discarded garment swooshed into the basket.
Jordan turned toward Spencer. “What if there were other messages to me at the other crime scenes? What if they were subtle enough that I didn’t pick up on them?”
“That’s pressing it, don’t you think? You were interviewed in the press several times, and guys who kill like this generally pay attention to the media. They like the attention. They follow the cops who are tracking them.”
She reached for her cane, opened the locker, and grabbed her purse. “Avery is my sister. Laura Davis knew Elena Sanchez, a woman I met with once. Tammy Fox knew Avery. Emma Powers worked in the hospital where I stayed.”
“Let me look over Laura Davis’s and Tammy Fox’s files again. I’ll read them with your theory in mind.”
“I know it’s a long shot,” she said.
“At this stage, it’s all a long shot.” A locker opened and closed, and she imagined he’d grabbed his Stetson.
“If you can get me to the lobby, I’ll call an Uber. Easier for me to meet Avery downtown at her café.”
“I can drop you.”
“It’s tempting, but I’ve got to figure this out. Getting around is a fact of life unless I want to stay in my house forever.”
“Baptism by fire?” he asked.
“They’re the most effective kind, aren’t they?”
“Let me at least get you to the curb,” he said.
“Fair enough.”
They moved through the building and out the front door into the bright sunshine. Sliding on her sunglasses, Jordan tipped her face toward the sun and savored the warmth. The air was crisp and the humidity low, so she guessed the sky was a clear blue. She tried to picture the shade of blue and finally decided it was azure. Nothing worse than leaving an autopsy and being met by gray skies and rain.
She fished her phone out of her purse and touched the screen. Using her voice-activated software, she asked the Uber app to open, and she summoned a car.
“High tech,” Spencer said.
“I’m a novice,” she said.
“You’re a quick study. You’re adapting well.”
“I’m hoping all this darkness is a temporary setback. Knowing I’ll get past this keeps me going.”
“And if your vision doesn’t improve?” No softening the question’s sting.
“Ouch. You don’t pull any punches.”
“You wouldn’t, either, if the shoe was on the other foot.”
“Honestly, Spencer, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I feel like I’ve got my leg in a snare. Right now, I’m just gritting my teeth and hoping the trap springs open.”
“Even if a trap opens, they always leave a mark.”
Her grip tightened around her cane. “Did you know that almost seventy percent of low-vision people are not in the workforce?”
“Sounds like you were practicing your internet skills last night.”
“Maybe. But it’s a real fear. And what will I do if I’m not a cop? The work gets in your blood.”
“I know that.”
“What does a thirty-four-year-old former cop with poor vision do?” So far, she had not come up with any answers. Maybe he had one.
“I really hope you do get your sight back. I do. But you’re smart, adaptable, and should consider a plan B.”
“Such as?”
“Prosecutor. Advocate. Teacher. The academy needs good training instructors.”
“When you decided to be a ranger, did you have a plan B?”
“No, but I’m hardheaded with more nerve than common sense.” A smile softened the words. “You’re a woman who knows better. You’ve been challenged before and come out on the other side.”
His ideas all required extensive thought on her part. Sally had mentioned braille, but that would be like learning a new language.
Right now, the future was too much to consider. “First, let me put this case behind me. Then I’ll think about the future.”
“Cases can drag on. Life won’t wait for you.”
Again, more she did not want to consider.
A car pulled up to the curb as her phone chimed with a text. This was her first Uber ride since the attack. Another one for her Book of Firsts. “Looks like my ride is here.”
Spencer checked the app on her phone for the car’s make and model, confirmed the driver’s name and also Jordan’s. “Yes, this is your car.” Spencer offered his elbow and guided her to the vehicle. “I’m still happy to give you a ride.”
“I need to do this alone because, believe it or not, I’m just as hardheaded as you.”
“Help me.” Spencer patted her on the shoulder. “Ryan, you make really sure this lady gets to where she needs to go, or I will hunt you down.”
She heard the man shift. And she had to smile. “Thanks, Spencer.”
“Will keep you updated, Detective Poe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Friday, April 23
9:30 a.m.
Avery’s first fifteen minutes at the café were fun. She liked catching up with her former coworkers and favorite morning customers who recognized her and being in the place that had helped stabilize her two years ago after rehab.
But after the initial meet and greet, she and the coworkers ran out of things to talk about. Beyond bitching about the small break room in the back, the lousy parking, and the pros and cons of the latest flavor of coffee, they did not have so much in common. Since she had sobered up, she recognized that daily chatter created the illusion of closeness, but it was smoke and mirrors.
Avery took her coffee, sat in the corner by the window, and ate a blueberry muffin. How many harried mornings had she wished she could do just this? Sit, relax, savor instead of rushing to fill the morning orders.
The café staff, like her, often grew annoyed when a customer hogged a prime table and stayed way past their expiration time, which for them was about thirty minutes. Eat, drink, move on.
“Avery?”
She looked up to find Detective Leo Santiago approaching with a cup of coffee in hand. “Let me guess, a triple espresso.”
“You know me well.” He nodded to the seat opposite hers. “Mind if I sit? I have a few minutes before my shift starts.”
“Please, have a seat.”
He pulled out the chair, smoothing his dark tie flat as he sat. He was clean cut, detail oriented, and disciplined. “What brings you here?” he asked.
“Killing time. Jordan has a meeting, and I’m waiting on her.” She was not sure how much the Austin Police Department knew about Jordan’s continued involvement in the current murder cases.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
“Getting along.”
He set his cup down, looking at her with an intensity that made her uneasy. Cops were not supposed to have X-ray vision.
“Santiago,” she said.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Neighbor described a guy who looked like Chris Evans.”
He shook his head, grinning. “Hardly.”
“It’s appreciated,” she said. “Life’s been hectic.”
“If there’s anything else I can do, just say it. All the guys and gals in the department want to lend a hand, but Jordan’s not the kind who asks for help.”
“She’s softening. She’ll need help to figure the rest of her life out.”
His jaw muscle clenched. “The Rangers have the Mummy case. Spencer is one of their best.”
“Good to know. Have you heard anything about the case’s progress?” She dabbed a blueberry muffin crumb from her plate, doing her best to look like someone who knew less than they let on.
“The forensic department is still combing over all the materials found with the bodies. They’ve pulled hair and cloth fibers, so both might give up DNA. And there were a few partial fingerprints. Lots of pieces but no full picture yet.”
Memories of a man with a hoarse, low voice swirled in her mind. Had Walker given her to the man who shoved plastic in her mouth? Had this faceless man been developing his obsessions? If the answers were buried in her memory, they remained out of reach.
Avery had listened so many times when Jordan expressed her frustration over an investigation. Jordan wanted justice for the victims and their families, but it rarely came as fast as anyone wanted it. Now on the other side of the equation, Avery experienced the same irritation.
“What cases are you working now?” Though she was only mildly curious, she liked having the company.
“A couple of homicides from last week. We have persons of interest in both cases, so it’s a matter of getting the forensics team to confirm evidence. I miss having Jordan to bounce ideas off of. She’s a hell of a detective.”
“She loves the work.”
“Yes, she does.”
Santiago’s phone chimed with a text, and he glanced at the screen. “Speaking of the job, it’s calling. I’ve got to go.”
“Sure. Back to work.”
“Are you coming back to work here?” he asked.
“Soon,” she said. “Maybe. It depends on Jordan.”
“Jordan doesn’t like anyone hovering.”
She laughed. “Very true.”
“That tells me I’ll be seeing you around here soon.” He rose and dutifully pushed his chair under the table. “Stay safe.”
“You too.”
Through the front window she watched Santiago stride down the street to an unmarked car. He got in. After flipping on his blinker, he pulled into traffic.
Though tempted to stay put, she tossed her trash, waved to her friends, and left the café. She had no idea where she was going. It had been a long time since she’d had extra time in her schedule. She sometimes logged sixty hours a week at the café, and then there was her art and the NA meetings she attended sometimes twice a week. She checked her watch and knew there was a midmorning meeting down the block in a restaurant that did not open until the afternoon.
She had missed too many meetings the last few weeks because she had been consumed with Jordan and now knew the extra time could not go to waste.
Down the block she looked across the street to an alley where she used to hang out. How many times had she gotten high there? How many stupid choices had she made?
That last time she had gone to Marco, her sobriety, like a wool sweater that was three sizes too small, had scratched her skin and constricted her lungs.
It had been easy to find Walker in those days. A few questions lobbed to the right people had been rewarded with directions to his latest apartment. When she’d knocked on the door, she had not been nervous. She’d been sure of what she wanted—needed. But the instant the door had opened, and Walker had grinned down at her, she had questioned her decision.
“Been a while,” he said easily.
“I’ve been busy.” If she told him she was struggling with sobriety, he would have seen it as a challenge.
“Glad you’re not too busy for an old friend now.” She stepped inside the apartment. This did not feel right. But her cravings silenced all the doubts. Walker closed the door and locked it. “What can I do for you?”
She had been so determined to get high after she had fought with Jordan. Now, she could not bring herself to say the words.
Grin widening, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “There’s no shame. No shame at all. I remember exactly what you like.”
Trepidation gave way to well-being. He understood her. He knew what she wanted. The last few months had been filled with people telling her what she needed. “Thanks. I don’t have much money.”
“Your money is no good here, sweet Avery. I’m going to hook you right up.”
Her next memories were muddled by the drugs she’d taken that night. She remembered the first rush of relief that had whisked through her system as the drugs took effect. Her vision blurred. And then came a tremendous sense of regret. She had worked so hard and had tossed it away. She wanted to leave. But as she tried to stand and move toward the door, Walker stopped her and tied her hands. She blacked out.
Avery stood very still, allowing herself to really peer into the darkness and remember what had happened to her. For so long, she had avoided it, but she knew now doing so could mean a killer went free.
From a distance, she heard men talking and then felt a rough hand move over her body, squeezing her breast, and she pushed it away. “Get off me.”
“Not yet, Avery.”
She’d barely had time to sort out the stranger’s voice before Walker said, “This one is better than the other one I promised. This should square us up.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I’ll leave you two alone.” A door opened and closed. Walker had abandoned her.
The man held her face in his hands, and when she opened her mouth to scream, he shoved plastic in her mouth, cramming the wad to the back of her throat before he tied a gag around her mouth. “No, no, no,” he said.
Her nostrils flared. She shook her head as her breathing quickly grew labored.
“Relax. Save your breath.”
Avery’s heart beat hard against her chest as she stared up at his masked face. He pushed up her dress, shoved inside her, his excitement growing as she weakened. When he had finished, he quickly dressed and left her. She tried to control her nostril breathing. Tried not to panic. But she hyperventilated. Grew dizzy. Began to choke. Die.
“Avery!”
Avery coughed, and when she focused on Jordan’s face, tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. I know. I’ll call an ambulance. Who put the plastic down your throat?” Avery could see Jordan struggling to contain her anger. Jordan’s little sister needed help, and someone had taken advantage of her weakness.
“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hoarse, scratched.
“Did Walker do it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe a friend of his.”
“Did you get any names?”
“No,” she cried. “I just remember Walker handing me the needle and tying me up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Jordan pulled Avery into an embrace. “Okay. It’s okay.”
Avery’s body shuddered with sobs as she gripped the sleeves of Jordan’s T-shirt. “I’ll never do this again.”
“I know. I know.”
Jordan had saved her. Again.
Maybe that was why she had pulled away from Jordan after that night. She needed to prove she could be sober. And if she stumbled again, there would be no disappointment to face other than her own.
However, in her struggle, she had distanced herself from the one person who had her back.
She fought the creeping guilt as she quickened her pace. She arrived at the Italian restaurant and entered the front door. Inside, a dozen people milled around by the bar that now sold only coffee.
“Avery?” The question came from Rogan Malone. He donated spare time to treating substance abusers.
“Hey, Dr. Malone.”
He came toward her, taking her hands in his. “It’s good to see you. How is Jordan? Is she with you?”
“No, attending an autopsy,” she said before she thought. “An old case she wants to solve.”
“Really? How is she able?” Dr. Malone asked.
“She has enough connections, and she’s determined. You know how she is.”
“She’s stubborn. Maybe too much.” He grinned. “But aren’t we all lucky she is? Join us. We’re about to start. Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thanks. I drank my fill at the café. Dropped in on old friends.” She pictured Jordan with Dr. Malone but did not like the image. She was sorry now she had come to this meeting.
“That’s always good.” He nodded toward the empty chairs arranged in a circle. “Have a seat.”
Unease crept up her back as she reached for a chair and pulled it a few inches out from the ring. Her regular meetings felt like family, but this was a new group. She was not interested in telling these strangers about herself.
As the people sat and got comfortable, she silenced her phone but left it on her lap in case Jordan called. Everyone in the circle introduced themselves by their first names.
The meeting went as most did. People shared their troubles and struggles. As she listened, the knot in her chest that had coiled tight the last few weeks eased. This was not her group, but they were her people.
Malone listened to each story, and no matter how hard someone said they had fallen, he showed compassion and warmth. It was the kind of understanding that came from not a textbook but life. Though he had never shared his story, there had to be one. Like her, the man was entitled to his secrets.
