Crushed Ruby, page 14
Marcus Kendrick had been found by the neighbor when she’d gone to walk her dog early before leaving for work. She had heard crying and gone looking for the source, expecting to find a homeless family who was sleeping in someone’s yard or an abandoned baby. She had not been expecting to find her neighbors’ baby swaddled in three blankets and tucked away under a bush.
Knowing that something was wrong, the woman had picked up the baby and taken him inside her house then immediately called 911. The first cops to respond had gone into the Kendrick house, found the bodies, and the case had been assigned to them on the assumption that it was the same gang of home invaders who had committed the murders.
At this point, it was still an assumption.
As if reading his mind, Zeb said, “We don’t even know yet that these are the same people who killed the Cochranes and broke into the Hatcher house. Yes, the back window was broken in, but that’s about the only similarity.”
“Tiffany Kendrick was shot four times. We know that we’re looking for a group of four perpetrators. When ballistics compares the bullets to the ones from the Cochrane house, then we’ll get our answer,” Judah said.
“Until then, we should keep our options open,” Zeb said. “For all we know, Tiffany had been having an affair, and her husband wasn’t the baby’s father. Maybe the father decided to get his revenge.”
“Then why leave the baby? If he wanted revenge, it would be from Tiffany keeping the baby away from him.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want the baby—he just wanted Tiffany to suffer for trying to make decisions for him.”
“How would the school dog tag play into that? Are we thinking that the woman was having an affair with a teenager?”
“Doesn’t have to be a kid from the school. Maybe it was a teacher or a parent or even a sibling.”
“I suppose,” he agreed, not really feeling the theory. “I agree we should keep our minds open until we get confirmation, but I’m not sold on the affair idea yet. Once we finish up here, we can speak with the Kendricks’ family and friends, see if anyone knows anything about an affair. We should hear from Elsie within the next couple of hours; she said she would get to comparing the bullets as soon as she could.”
Whether or not the Kendrick murders were the next in the killers’ spree wasn’t what was weighing on his mind the most. What was bothering him was motive. It was what always got him. Like most people, he wanted the world to be a place that made sense.
Only, murder didn’t make sense.
As far as he—and most of the population—were concerned, there were very few acceptable reasons for taking the life of another human being. Self-defense was about the only one that most people understood. But the majority of his cases had nothing to do with self-defense. Most of his cases were selfish people doing whatever they wanted to satisfy their own needs and desires.
So, what were these killers’ needs and desires?
It was unusual for four people to work together like this. In a way, they appeared to be a little cult of sorts, following out the game plan of their leader. The leader appeared to be the man who dressed in the skull costume, only it looked like someone wanted to challenge that leadership. Which implied that they had all been on the same page at some point but that things were spinning out of control, and they were no longer a cohesive team.
So, how had they become a team?
How did four people decide to come together and start breaking into people’s homes and murdering them? It wasn’t like you got the urge to kill and then walked up to friends—or strangers—and asked them if they wanted to join in.
The whole thing was baffling.
Which was worrying.
Just because they hadn’t made an attempt to come back and finish what they started with Ruby so far didn’t mean they wouldn’t come at some point. He didn’t want the woman he was falling for in danger, but so far, he couldn’t see any way to end this case. “We should make sure that we have a cop on Marcus Kendrick’s grandparents’ house,” he said to his partner. “Just in case they decide to start coming back and tying up loose ends.”
“I’ll text Debra and ask her to set something up,” Zeb said, just as the door to Principal Barone’s office opened.
“Detectives, come on in,” the woman said, ushering them into her office. She led them over to her desk, and he and Zeb took seats facing her. “What’s going on? I was told this was urgent.”
“It is,” he told the woman. “This was found at a crime scene this morning.” He handed over a photograph of the dog tag with the school’s logo to the principal. “Can you confirm that this is the school’s logo?”
The woman took the picture and studied it for a brief second or so before nodding, her eyes grave. “This is ours. It’s the senior class’s. They chose the dog tags specifically because a couple of the kids have lost loved ones who were in the military.”
Well, at least that was one step forward. “Who would have one? Just the kids in the senior class?” he asked.
“Yes and no. Yes, they are for the kids in the senior class, but other staff sometimes collect the things that the seniors have made up. It’s not the same things every year, and some of the teachers who teach them like to buy them, kind of like mementos of that year’s class.”
“What about students’ families?” Zeb asked. “Would they have access to them?”
“Only through their kids. May I ask what the crime scene was?” Principal Barone asked.
“It was the scene of a double murder,” Judah informed her.
The principal’s eyes grew wide. “You think that one of our kids committed a murder?”
He did.
Gideon had profiled their killers as young, and although at the time they’d been thinking college age, high school seniors weren’t that much younger and were certainly old enough to have pulled this off.
“Are there any of the students that you can think of who might be capable of murder?” he asked. It was a long shot. He thought that these kids were probably smart enough not to let their hidden dark inner selves be seen.
“Murder? No,” Principal Barone said emphatically. “This is a high school. We have an abundance of testosterone, and there are fights from time to time. And teenage girls can be catty sometimes. There have been a few fights between them as well—usually over a guy. Although we have a zero tolerance for bullying, there are still instances of that as well. We jump on those immediately, and we have very strict punishments for those found to be bullying as well as offering support to victims, but there is nothing and no one that I can think of who would be capable of killing two people. Are you sure that you’re looking for one of these kids?” Her eyes moved from his face to his partner’s, seeking the answer she wanted, which was no, they didn’t think they were really looking for one of these kids.
“All we know right now is that one of the dog tags that your senior class had made up was found at a crime scene. It could be one of the kids. It could be a parent or sibling who had it in their possession, or it could be a teacher. Have you had any problems with any of the staff? Anyone you think might be capable of murder?” Zeb asked.
“I wish that I could tell you that there was, especially if you’re right and a killer is walking these halls, but there isn’t. I’m sorry.”
Sorry didn’t help them right now.
Not that it was the principal’s fault that she couldn’t identify the killer.
Walking in here, Judah had hoped to at least get a direction to move in, but instead, they didn’t really have anything. Elsie would hopefully get them proof that it was the same home invaders that killed the Cochranes and the Kendricks, and he and Zeb would start going through staff and students of the high school looking for anything that could point to one of them being the killer.
It was a long shot, but it was the best they had.
The dog tag said the killers were in some way associated with the school, so if they looked closely enough, they would find them.
No one could hide forever.
He knew. He’d spent half of his life hiding parts of himself, but sooner or later, they came out.
The same would be true for the killers.
* * * * *
11:50 A.M.
Witch was nervous today.
Anxious.
She couldn’t settle to anything.
In fact, she had already given up trying to focus and had gone home sick, so she could just be alone.
She didn’t want to be around people right now because she was sure that one look at her face was going to give away everything that was going on inside her head, and then she would be in even more trouble.
And she was already in pretty big trouble.
She touched a finger to her sore chest and tried to draw in a full breath. Ever since Skull had hit her last night, she hadn’t been able to breathe properly. He had probably broken her ribs, but she was pretty sure that those healed on their own and you didn’t really need to go and see a doctor.
They better, because how would she explain the bruises to a doctor?
Walking over to the mirror, she carefully eased up her sweater and examined the bruises. They were darker than they had been this morning, a mottled mix of black and blue that looked like she had taken one hell of a beating.
And she had.
When Skull had realized that the baby was no longer in the house and he wasn’t going to be able to kill the entire family like he wanted to, he’d lost it. She had never seen someone get so angry. And over killing a tiny little baby. Who cared if the infant lived; it wasn’t like it was going to tell on them.
She had known the risks when she’d decided to get the baby out of the house. She had known that Ghost had already been intending to mix things up, do his own thing, stop blindly following orders, and do what he wanted to do. And she had known that if she also decided to break the rules, then she was only asking to have a punishment rained down upon her.
And that was exactly what she’d gotten.
Witch ran her fingertips over the marks. They would fade in time. She was lucky that he hadn’t hurt her worse.
Or killed her.
The look in his eyes had said he’d wanted to kill her.
It was worth it, though. There was no way she could have stood by and watched Skull kill that sweet little baby. He was innocent. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and he didn’t deserve to be killed.
Okay, she got that she was a hypocrite about that.
All of the people who lived in the houses they had broken into were innocent and didn’t deserve to be killed, but that little baby …
Her hand dropped from her bruised and battered chest to her stomach.
No one knew it yet, but she had her own little baby growing in there.
It still didn’t feel real, which was part of the reason she hadn’t told anyone.
Being pregnant changed everything.
Everything.
She was still trying to think through all the ramifications and how they impacted what happened next, but it was hard—especially trying to do it alone.
Witch knew that she had to tell someone.
Specifically, Ghost.
He was the baby’s father, after all, so he had a say in what was going to happen next. It was a whole lot more complicated than simply was she or wasn’t she going to keep the baby. She almost wished things were that simple.
But her life was never simple.
The door to her bedroom suddenly swung open, and she quickly dropped her sweater down. It wasn’t like she was showing already. She was only a month or so along in her pregnancy, but finding her standing there with her hand on her stomach was going to look odd and lead to questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer yet.
“Hey.” She mustered a smile and turned to face Ghost.
“Hey, yourself. I heard you were sick … you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said, spinning around and beginning to pick up the clothes scattered around the room. She wasn’t a very good liar, and she knew that if she kept looking at him, he was going to be able to read in her face that something was going on, and she was trying to keep secrets from him.
Apparently, he knew anyway.
Ghost stalked across the room and grabbed her shoulder. He turned her around to face him and stared into her eyes so deeply it was like he was looking all the way into her brain.
“You’re lying to me. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, once again averting her gaze, this time to stare at the floor.
“Liar. Did Skull hurt you worse than you said last night?” Without waiting for an answer—or perhaps assuming he wouldn’t get an honest one—he pushed her backward and down onto the bed, shoving her sweater up so he could examine her bruised chest.
Usually, when her man looked at her naked breasts like a switch had been flipped, she would get this warm and fluttery feeling in her stomach.
But not today.
Today, sex was the last thing on her mind.
Ghost muttered a curse as he ran a hand over her bruises. “Skull is going to pay for this.”
There was no point in reminding him that he was part of the reason she had been beaten up. If he hadn’t decided that it was no longer Skull’s way or no way, and started humiliating and hurting the woman at the house last night, then Skull would never have been in such a bad mood and wouldn’t have gone off the deep end when he realized she had hidden the baby.
“I’m really okay,” she assured him, ignoring the pain in her chest to reach up and touch a kiss to his lips.
“Well, if it isn’t your injuries, something else is bothering you. What is it?” he demanded.
“Nothing, really,” she muttered.
“You forget, I have ways of making you talk,” he warned. “Last chance, what is bothering you?”
She should probably tell him.
He had a right to know.
And it wasn’t like she could keep this secret indefinitely.
Still, she stubbornly pressed her lips into a line.
“Fine,” he snapped. Grabbing hold of both her wrists with one hand, he pinned them above her head, while his free hand slid down below her waistband and settled between her legs. With practiced ease, he slipped a finger inside her and began to stroke her while his thumb rubbed circles on the spot that drove her wild.
Okay, so maybe sex wasn’t the last thing on her mind today.
She tried to fight against it, think unsexy thoughts, but Ghost knew her body inside and out, and he knew just how to work her quickly right to the very edge of pleasure.
And then he stopped.
She whimpered and pressed her pelvis up toward him, begging him to keep going.
But he didn’t.
He left her hanging.
“Got anything to tell me?” he asked, his eyes glittering wickedly, enjoying torturing her like this.
Stubbornness got the better of her again, and she kept her mouth shut.
“Fine.” He reached down and picked up a pair of discarded stockings and used them to tie her wrists together behind her back. Then he pulled her sweatpants down her legs and threw them onto the floor. Her panties quickly joined them, and then his tongue was touching her. He touched her with a feather softness that had her squirming and moaning and whimpering, that kept her stuck on the edge but wouldn’t allow her to fall over.
“Okay, okay,” she finally cracked. “I’ll tell you, just please, let me come.”
“If I take mercy on you and you don’t follow through, I’m going to be angry,” he warned. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she was involved with a dangerous man. A man who had viciously tortured a woman last night. A man who killed without remorse. A man who would punish her if she tried to trick him.
But she was helplessly in love with him and powerless to resist.
“I promise, just please, please let me come,” she begged.
His head buried itself between her legs again, and this time when his mouth touched her, the strokes were firmer, faster, and in less than a minute, he had her spiraling into another world. A world filled with nothing but pleasure.
His hands pressed her hips down when they greedily tried to seek more, and he sucked and nipped every last drop of pleasure out of her, leaving her completely and utterly spent.
It took her a full couple of minutes before she was even able to hold a coherent thought.
When her vision finally cleared, and she saw him looking down at her expectantly, she knew that she had no other choice.
She had to tell him.
Despite her stubbornness, part of her wanted to do it anyway.
Even if he was angry about it, it was what it was. She was pregnant. He was the father, and nothing was going to change that.
* * * * *
4:21 P.M.
If she could have just one wish, it would be that she didn’t have to live inside her own head anymore.
Ruby had woken up this morning excited and positive. She had felt like not only did she have a future but that it could be anything she wanted.
She had been so exhilarated.
She felt like she could so anything.
She felt so strong.
And now …
Now, she was staring out the kitchen window with a razor in her hand.
The constant up and down of her moods was exhausting. Sometimes it left her feeling physically dizzy. It was depression—she knew that. It was also part of her post traumatic stress disorder; she knew that too. But knowing that didn’t help her. It didn’t take away the thoughts of ending her life, and it didn’t help her hold on to the good moments and make them last longer.
