Deadly Dreams (16 page)

“Convince us,” Risa advised him.

Crowley licked his lips. “This job . . . it doesn’t even pay the rent. I’m supposed to feel lucky someone will let me do their books after my last job, right? But I needed money, and I know this guy . . .”

“Javon Emmons?”

He looked blank at Nate’s words. “Who?”

Leaning forward, Nate tapped one of the photos.

“Oh. I just know him by Juicy. We go back a way, back to my college days. If you wanted to score a little, Juicy was the go-to guy, right? We met up a couple times after I got out of Somerset, and maybe I said how it was tough to get a job, you know, with a record. He said maybe he’d have some work for me.”

Surprise flickered. Somehow Risa hadn’t been expecting this. “You’re selling drugs?”

He actually looked shocked. “What? No! God, nothing like that. I’m doing his books.”

“His books,” Nate repeated carefully.

Crowley lifted a shoulder. “He’s a businessman, right? Every business is a balance of profit and expense. I get the feeling he’s moved up the ladder some since I knew him from Temple. Dealers work for him now. Part of my job is to figure out what he owes to who so he can pay them.”

Risa rubbed her brow. They’d stumbled on something much further reaching than another possible witness to question. “Do you have a copy of his books?”

“Well, not now.” He looked anxious. “We were making the exchange the other day in the park. I’d finished them up and given them back to him. I won’t talk to him again for a couple weeks. I keep trying to get him to let me put everything on a spreadsheet, and then we could e-mail it back and forth. But he doesn’t trust computers. He’s afraid someone could hack into his account and get hold of his financial information.”

Crowley buried his face in his hands. His voice muffled, he said, “If he finds out I’ve told you this much, I’m dead. I heard this story about him dropping a guy in a trough of acid.” He raised his head then, looked hopeful. “Probably just an exaggeration, right?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s true.” Even as Crowley went ashen, Nate went on. “So were you telling the truth about him getting to the park after you?”

The man hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know when he got there,” he admitted finally. “I just turned around and there he was. He’s creepy that way. If he doesn’t want you to, you won’t see him.”

“Okay.” Nate straightened and gave Crowley a small smile. “Thanks for your help. When we talk to him, we’ll keep your name out of it. Make it sound like someone else spotted the both of you there.”

Crowley chewed his lip. “You sure? ’Cuz maybe it’d sound better if I called him and said how you talked to me and would be coming by. Like I’m warning him.”

“Let’s let him think that I haven’t gotten around to you yet and that you’re next on my list.” Nate moved toward the door. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

Mystified, Risa preceded him out the door and back down the narrow hallway. She sent a blinding smile to the still suspicious-looking Bob and said, “Thank you so much for allowing us a bit of Sam’s time. He’s been a great help.”

Nate waited until they were on the sidewalk before murmuring, “Laying it on a bit thick, weren’t you?”

“Not as thick as you were with Crowley at the end.” She slanted a look at him. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll put out the order for Juicy to be brought in for questioning, but I’m guessing we’re not going to get anywhere with him as a possible witness,” he admitted, as they started in the direction of where he’d parked the car farther down the street. “The rest of it? Crowley doing his books? I’m turning that over to Morales. Likely he’ll contact the captain in Vice. If they can get hold of Emmons’ financials, they might be able to build a case on him, maybe even go after his supplier.”

“Hopefully this case will stick.” She stopped as they reached the car. Annoyance briefly flared. Battled with dark humor.

Someone had dumped a very full litter box on the hood of the dark Crown Vic. Scratched into the driver’s door were the words
COPS SUCK
.

Nate looked up and down the street, but the sidewalks were unusually deserted. Blowing out a breath, he surveyed the damage. “Well, shit.”

Risa nodded. “Literally.”

“If I were done, I’d have called you, McGuire. Did I call you? I don’t believe I did.” Liz Chin had to tilt her head up a long way to meet his gaze, but she wasn’t fazed by something as unimportant as stature. Her hands were on her hips, her tone sharp. Of course, it was always sharp, usually sarcastic, so Nate couldn’t tell if she was truly pissed off or just giving him her usual hard time.

“It’s been two days. I’ve been plenty patient.”

She sent him one last glare before relenting. “I expected you yesterday.” Her gaze settled on Risa then. “You still around?”

“Obviously.”

Nate winced, braced himself for the explosion. But amazingly Liz remained calm. “You’re hired as an independent consultant, I hear.”

He shot her a narrowed look and she held up a placating hand. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. I listen, I don’t talk. And that outfit she works for isn’t exactly low profile.” She turned around and started to stride away. He knew her well enough to realize they were supposed to follow.

“The Mindhunters, right?” she threw over her shoulder as she walked at a surprisingly quick pace. “I heard one of Adam Raiker’s scientists speak at a conference I was at a couple years ago. Alfred Jones. Smart guy. And everyone’s heard of Raiker.”

Nate resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders. No way in hell would he admit he’d never heard of the man or his company until he’d researched both after having one of Raiker’s consultants thrust on him. And yeah, it was hard not to be impressed by the man’s resume. Or the details of his last case for the bureau.

He’d been captured by the serial child killer he’d trailed to the Louisiana swamps. Been held and tortured for three days before escaping and killing the man. Such was the stuff of legends. But it was the more recent news about Risa’s boss that had captured his attention. Four attempts on his life in as many months should have kept him too busy to intervene in a police investigation in Philadelphia. And it was the details behind
those
actions that interested him most about the man.

“What’s he like?” The question, directed at Risa, was tossed over Liz’s shoulder.

“Who, Jonesy?”

“Jonesy. Yeah, that fits. No, I mean Raiker. I’d like to meet him sometime.”

“He’s . . . indescribable.”

“Not surprising, with his history. Here’s your guy. I’m just finishing up on him.” Liz opened up the door to one of the morgue’s main rooms. It was lined with a half-dozen workstations, each consisting of a large sink, a scale, and a small counter with a surgical light. The exam tables would be rolled out of one of the walk-in refrigerators where the bodies were stored.

What remained of Pat Christiansen lay on the gurney at the first workstation. A quick glance assured Nate that none of the man’s organs were sitting on the scale, or worse, middissection on the counter.

“Relax, Nervous Nellie, I’ve sewn him up already.” Liz poked an elbow at Risa. “He hates this place. The first time he came here—”

“I don’t think we need to go into that story,” he objected.

“—he tossed his cookies in that sink over there.” Liz pointed a gloved finger at the third workstation. “And then he blames his weak stomach on the smell. Smelled a lot worse when he left, let me tell you.”

“In my defense, I was twenty-two and just out of the academy,” he started.

The women shared a grin that would strike fear into the heart of any thinking male. “I know. Guys, right?” Risa said, and the two of them laughed.

He examined the ceiling. “Like it wasn’t enough I had to clean five pounds of shit off the hood of my car an hour ago. I have to listen to it here, too.”

“What?”

“From one of his many admirers,” Risa explained, and the ME laughed again.

Nate eyed them unkindly. In all his years of working with Liz, he’d never heard her laugh. Rarely saw her smile. He should have known both would be as cutting as her speech. “You’re as mean as she is,” he informed Risa. “And it’s a well-known fact that she uses her tongue as a scalpel in here.” Although Liz and Cass were friendly enough, he didn’t recall Liz ever taking to a newcomer so quickly.

On the other hand, when Risa was laughing at him, it was a helluva lot easier to forget how attractive she was. That wasn’t all bad.

“Your patient?” he reminded the ME. “You’re done with the autopsy, you said?”

Finally Liz moved toward the exam table. “I’ll have a preliminary draft of the report to you by the end of the day. Cause of death is smoke inhalation, but I don’t have to tell you he suffered before death.”

“How long?” Nate asked softly, his gaze riveted on the remains of the man.

“At least an hour. Maybe a little longer. Let me show you one difference I found from the last two victims.” He and Risa moved silently to the end of the table. “I cut the remnants of the clothing off. Some, of course, melted into the flesh. But look here.” She pointed to where the man’s feet should be. What was there was unrecognizable to Nate. Two shriveled blackened stumps.

“What am I looking at?”

“Had a helluva time cutting the shoes away. Couldn’t separate the leather from the skin,” Liz explained. “Like the first two, this one had his arms duct taped behind him. The others were burned more or less uniformly. This time I suspect he started the fire at the victim’s feet.” She gestured toward the other end of the table. “His head wasn’t burned as severely as were the others either. You’ll notice there’s more tufts of hair remaining.”

“Varying his MO.”

“But not his signature,” murmured Risa. She didn’t appear to share his squeamishness. She was staring at the body consideringly. Nate gave a mental shrug. There was a reason people said women were the stronger sex. “Maybe he’s trying to make it last longer.”

“Prolong the torture?” Because he didn’t know what else to do with them, he jammed his hands in his suit pockets. “That’d be in keeping with a sadist.”

She sent him an approving glance. “Someone has more psych background than he’s let on.”

Her words warmed something inside him, which was stupid. He’d given up being stupid about women when he was seventeen and caught his girlfriend of ten months in the backseat with Joey Gelner. That Joey was his best friend had been the secondary insult.

It’d been
Nate’s
car.

He’d developed, more than one woman had told him, a singularly unromantic view of relationships in the time since.

“I pay attention.” He shifted his gaze to Liz. “Enough to wonder if there was a difference found in the lungs. Did he succeed in keeping the victim alive longer?”

The ME patted her heart and addressed Risa. “He makes me so proud.” To Nate she said, “I can tell how much smoke the victim inhaled and I can estimate from that how long he lived. But if your offender managed to reduce the amount of smoke, or slow the burning process, I’m not going to necessarily be able to tell that. Just the cumulative amount. I did find something else that might interest you, though.”

Rounding the table, she walked swiftly to the opposite end. “Help me turn him over.” Gingerly he reached out to do as directed. But only because Risa was helping and he didn’t want the women to start in on him again. “See this?”

He got closer to peer at whatever Liz was pointing to on the skull. “What?”

“Nothing. No evidence of blunt force trauma. But I did find traces of (C
₂
H
₅
)
₂
O in the lungs. Ether,” she explained before they could ask.

“Makes sense,” Risa mused. “He changes the approach to fit the situation. He took Parker when he was out for a jog. And we still don’t know exactly how and where he got Tull. But since blunt-force trauma was found on both those victims, we can guess that he used some sort of surprise or blitz attack for them. For Christiansen, we think the offender got inside his car.”

“And so far it’s looking like the driver managed to avoid every traffic camera in the area after that,” he put in.

“So the UNSUB was directing Christiansen on what route to take,” surmised Risa. “Held a gun to his head maybe. Or made him believe he’d left a buddy back at the detective’s house, that his wife was in danger.”

“He wouldn’t have used the ether until they were at their destination. But why bother by then?”

Liz interrupted their ponderings. “This Starsky and Hutch thing you’ve got going on? Very educational. But I’ve got another—ha, ha—lucky stiff waiting to go under the knife, so maybe you kids could take it outside. Go on.” She shooed them when Nate opened his mouth. “I gave you the highlights. The rest will be in my written report, which you’ll get when it’s ready. Now get out.”

“As always, I appreciate the hospitality,” Nate said with mock politeness. But he knew Liz well enough to start moving to the door before she threatened him with the bone saw.

Risa continued speaking as she followed him out. “The methods of attacks could point to the offender being slighter, weaker than the men he was assaulting. Or it could simply point to expediency. Goes to figure if you’re attempting to take out a cop, even a retired one, that you’d expect them to be tough to take down. Makes sense to go in prepared to enact the abduction as quickly as possible to avoid being seen.”

Their steps echoed hollowly as they made their way down the long hallway to the front desk. “Three weeks between Parker and Tull. Not quite two between Tull and Christiansen.” When Risa didn’t respond, he slid her a glance, found her frowning slightly. “I expect you to tell me that means he’s escalating.”

“Not necessarily,” she said with an air of distraction.

If that hadn’t surprised him enough, once outside she moved around the hood of the car without stopping to comment again on the message scratched on the car. Something was definitely going on in the woman’s mind. Once they’d both gotten in the vehicle, he said, “Not necessarily?”