Hardass (Bad Bitch) (20 page)

I bumped it and turned back toward Dr. Snider.

“Who the hell do you think—”

“If I could get quiet, please, then we’ll begin.” Dr. Snider’s sharp tone cut off Matt’s impending rant.

“Settle down, Matt,” Toby said. “Doc, do your thing.”

“Cindy.” Dr. Snider motioned to his assistant to help him yank down the zipper on the body bag. “Let’s get to work.”

Caroline

The autopsy was, without a doubt, disgusting, but I found myself leaning closer for Dr. Snider’s explanation of the wounds on Tyler’s body—the carvings, the bloodletting. The mechanics of the murder were just like all the others, save one difference. Tyler had been hit on the back of the head with enough force to knock him out before he’d been killed.

Why would the killer have changed the pattern in those two ways—a man and knocking him out? Dr. Snider had no answers, and neither did the rest of us. But Dr. Snider was certain of one thing, it wasn’t a copycat. This was done by the same killer. Rowan’s case grew stronger by the second.

Matt left the autopsy early, saying he had an appointment he couldn’t miss. Toby and I exchanged a look. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed Matt was green around the gills.

It only took an hour to complete the examination. It didn’t seem like enough time to calculate the loss of a human life, even one as deplorable as Tyler’s. But I was glad it was over. Cindy wheeled the body to the adjoining room as Dr. Snider dictated his last few notes. He still wasn’t sure about time of death, but he suspected the body was fresher than the month he initially thought.

I would have been burning up my phone texting Wash the good news, but it could wait. I didn’t want to communicate with him. Not yet. I thought I’d just write a report and leave it on his desk on my way out. I’d resolved to go ahead and turn in my notice that afternoon anyway.

“I’ll walk you out,” Toby said.

“Sure.” I suspected morgue duty wasn’t Toby’s favorite, either.

“Wash hasn’t called?” he asked as we finally escaped the smell of rot and walked into the hospital proper. The presence of other, living people going about their day was a strange comfort.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He stopped and touched my arm. “Trouble? I could tell something was bothering you, but I didn’t want to talk about it in there.”

I nodded. Toby was intuitive and there was no point lying to him. “Yeah. Let’s just say I’ll be looking for a job at five o’clock. Let me know if you hear of anyone hiring, would you?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his perfectly ironed and starched shirt not creasing even a little. “Does Wash know about this?”

I dropped my eyes and told my tears to go fuck themselves.

“Well, shit. Has he gone and fucked something up? Do I need to get someone to write him a speeding ticket or go to his house and toss the place?”

I couldn’t smile. I knew if I’d tried, I’d definitely cry.

He put an arm around me. He reminded me of Terrell a little bit—the way he knew what to do even if I didn’t say a word. “It’ll work out. And if it doesn’t, give me a call and I’ll have you a job starting Monday morning. I know plenty of attorneys who could use a smart associate like you. Trust me.”

“Thanks.” I sniffed and wiped the two tears that had escaped.

“Chin up. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

I nodded and met his kind eyes again. “Thanks.”

“All right. Next week. I’m buying you lunch. Mark it on your calendar. Tuesday, I’ll pick you up wherever you are—at home in pj’s or kicking ass in court. This badge right here”—he tapped his chest—“gives me the authority to cuff you and take you to the lunch joint of your choosing.”

He got a smile out of me with that.

“Should have known you’d go for the cuffs. Chicks always do. Okay, I have to go, but next week.”

“Okay. I’m in.”

“Good. See you then.”

“Yes.” I nodded, the sadness fading in the light of his friendly overture.

He strolled away, and I pulled my phone from my bag. I’d missed a couple of texts from Wash asking me how it went. I ignored them. I tried to put my phone back in the side pocket of my bag, but I juggled it, and it hit the floor.

A man leaned down and scooped it up before taking my hand. I looked up into his face.

“Luke? What are you doing here?”

His eyes were red. I hoped he didn’t notice mine were, too. “I just had to see him.” He looked far more disheveled than usual, wearing a baseball cap, a plain white T-shirt, and jeans. His clothes were rumpled, as if he’d slept in them.

“I don’t think you want to do that. You need to go home and rest.” I tried to take his elbow and lead him away.

“No, please. It’s the only way I can get closure.”

I considered his request. It would be a shock to him, no doubt, but maybe if he saw his brother, he could move on like he’d said. He was no good to his family like this, and I hated to see him in so much pain.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes. Please, Caroline.”

I ignored my misgivings and led him back down the hallway. He kept close to my elbow.

“He’s in here. But it’s not pretty. I don’t want you to regret this.”

“He’s my flesh and blood. I have to see him one last time.” He pushed through the swinging doors and walked to the sheet-covered body in the center of the room.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” I started to back away.

“No, please don’t.” His plea cut my already-shredded heart.

“Okay.” I eased closer to him.

He reached for the edge of the sheet with a trembling hand and pulled it down. Tyler’s face became visible inch by inch as the fabric fell back. Luke gasped and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Are you okay?” I looked up at his light blue eyes.

He replaced the sheet quickly. “Do they . . . do they know anything yet? About what happened?” He was so quiet I barely heard him.

“Not yet, but they’ll catch him. The time of death proves it’s not Rowan, at least. So there’s someone else out there. I have my eye on a suspect that lived at the same boardinghouse as Tyler and Rowan. It could be him, but even if it’s not, it’s only a matter of time before the killer is caught. Wash and I won’t stop until Rowan is exonerated.” The lie of the statement hit me only after the words left my mouth. I wouldn’t be on this case anymore once I put in my notice. I wouldn’t be working for Rowan or helping find Luke’s brother’s killer. I’d be giving up. But it was either that or wait for the boot.

“Want to go somewhere for some coffee?” Luke offered. “Not to pry, but it looks like you might need it, and I definitely do.”

“That would be great, actually.”

“I know a nice spot where we can talk.” He took his cap off and scratched his head, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking up every which way. He’d always been so collected at his office. Now, Tyler’s death had destroyed Luke’s quiet confidence, and I hoped he would be able to recover.

We left the hospital and headed for our separate cars, after agreeing to meet up at a coffee shop in the Garden District. Maybe some coffee and a chat would help him recover from the shock and help me clear my head enough to decide what to do after Palmer & Granade.

I made a halfhearted attempt to grab my phone and check for messages, but it must have sunk to the bottom of my bag. I didn’t see it and didn’t want to be confronted with any texts or calls from Wash anyway.

Wash

The car ate up the interstate between New Orleans and Angola mile by mile. The radio was on. I didn’t hear it. Trent’s threat to fire Caroline was still foremost in my mind. I was the one who’d made the mess, but she’d be stuck suffering for it. I couldn’t let that happen.

I’d told Trent Caroline was fired. Then I told him I was leaving right along with her. I didn’t care what it looked like or if it hurt the firm. She was it for me. I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted her. Her wit, her smarts, her kindness.

I couldn’t let her go, so I would have to go with her. I’d be damned if I was going to sacrifice her for my career. I’d already given up plenty to have my name on the door. Even so, Palmer & Granade could go back to being Palmer & Associates. I could go out on my own.
We
could. Granade & Montreat. Hell, even Montreat & Granade. I didn’t care which, as long as we were together.

I smiled and thought about how we would run our office.
Maybe I could enforce topless Tuesdays when we didn’t have any client meeting
s
?

The memory of the first time I saw her floated through my mind. She was clearly a law school student, her clothes too casual, her hair in a rough ponytail as she sat and watched me try a case. She had been impossible to miss, her wide eyes and eager expression. It had been years, but I recalled how her eyes had followed me as I walked the well in front of the jury, examining witnesses and evidence. I’d wanted to ask her to coffee then, but didn’t want to get the reputation as the sort of attorney who chased after hot law students. Still, she had stuck with me so strongly that I’d tracked her down, found out where she attended school, and put in a good word with Trent about her hiring. I’d brought her to me. And, I realized, I intended to keep her.

The rest of the drive to Angola was filled with considerations of how to separate my book of business from Trent’s, which other associates, if any, to take with us, and where we could get office space. But what if she said no? A sinking sensation rushed through me.

I shook my head. I’d convinced dozens of juries to see things my way. I could do the same with her, especially if I did it with more than just words. My smile was back at the thought of seducing her into being my partner at law.

I went through the security check outside and rolled into the prison. The wait to see Rowan was longer than usual. So much so that I wondered if the security guard from my last visit was trying to get even. I texted Caroline a few times, asking how she was doing at the autopsy. She didn’t respond. I just hoped she was okay. She was tough, but even I got queasy at my first autopsy. Not that I would ever tell her that.

By the time I was allowed back to see Rowan, I’d waited a total of two hours despite raising hell and threatening to call the warden.

Rowan shuffled in and was chained to the steel table per usual. He looked much the same, though his head was freshly shaved.

“Where’s Ms. Montreat?”

“She’s busy. Just you and me today. First things first. You know a Gene Rourke?”

“Yeah. He lived at the house.” He picked at a scab on his cheek.

“You or Tyler friends with him?”

“Tyler talked to him a couple times, but that guy was crazy. Never came out of his room for nothing except to eat.”

“So Tyler and he didn’t go out together or anything?”

Rowan pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Naw, that guy never left the house. I think he had some sort of, I don’t know, brain thing. Didn’t want to leave his room, couldn’t leave the house.” He twiddled his fingers at his temple.

I sighed. “Fuck.” If Rourke never left the house, then the chances were slim to none that he was the Bayou Butcher, and we were back to square one on suspects.

“Okay, there’s another thing. I’ve got some news for you. I don’t know if it’s good or bad yet, but we need to discuss it.”

He leaned back and squinted at me. “What news?”

“Tyler Graves was found dead yesterday. Murdered just like all the other Bayou Butcher victims.”

His mouth dropped open, and just the threat of his foul breath had me leaning back.

“Are you shitting me?” he asked.

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Man, I don’t even know what . . . I just talked to him like, I don’t know, two weeks ago.”

I leaned forward, my elbows on the table. “You spoke to him?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

Anger scorched down my spine. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me about it before now?”

He shrugged, his chains rattling at the movement. “I didn’t think it was important.”

If I could have gotten up and shaken him without the guard seeing or hearing, I would have. “It
is
important, Rowan. Tell me everything he told you. Don’t leave anything out, got me?”

“Well, my memory ain’t so great. Doc here says it’s because of the drugs, but—”

I rapped my knuckles on the table. “Yes, Rowan. It’s the drugs. Every fucking ounce of lye and turpentine you’ve stabbed into your veins or inhaled into your lungs is eating away at your brain. But
focus
,
and tell me about the phone call. Every word.”

He thinned his lips and then put his elbows on the table. “Well, he called me up, said he needed to talk about Chip.”

“Chip?” The name Caroline had gotten from the hooker. Was this our guy?

“Yeah. He’s a guy we knew. Used to come visit sometimes. Real nice.” Rowan shifted in his seat again and looked down. “Or at least I thought he was.”

“What did Tyler tell you about Chip?”

“Said he was pissed about me getting nabbed. Said he didn’t want me to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

He put his hands on the table and picked at his grubby thumbnail. “Well, I ain’t supposed to say. That’s what Tyler said.”

I lowered my voice, so low it could barely be heard. It was the best way to ensure that Rowan would listen. “Tyler was killed, and his death is going to be blamed on you. Tell me who Chip is, and tell me right fucking now.”

He flinched at my stare. “He’s this guy. He had parties. We would get invited.”

“What parties? Where?”

“I don’t remember. I was always fucked up when we went. We were just supposed to round up some girls and take them over. It was like, maybe once a month, sometimes less. This guy owned a nice big house, and he’d just go, I don’t know, kind of crazy every so often.”

“Where in the city? What house?”

“It was really rich. I don’t know. Garden maybe?”

“What happened at the parties?”

He dropped his eyes again, and it was as if I could see the lie forming in his mind.

“Nothing much. Just girls dancing, coke and stuff.”

“What else, Rowan?”

He looked back to me, but this time there was fear in his eyes. “Worse stuff. Bad stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I didn’t do any of this, man. I need you to know I just watched. I didn’t do it. Okay?” He took a deep breath. “Chip would pick one girl who was high as fuck and string her up. Truss her up like she was caught in a spiderweb, you know?” He scrubbed a hand over his bald pate. “And then he would hurt her.”

“How?”

“Fuck, man, I don’t know.” He bit his filthy nails. “He would hit her. Him and Tyler both. They would punch and bite and hit her with stuff. Sometimes they would cut the girls. They both had some crazy skill with knives. They could draw with them, you know? Like art like a painter would do, but with knives and blood instead.”

I tamped down my revulsion at the man sitting across from me who would willingly sit by and let such horrors happen right in front of him. “What else do you know about Chip?”

“I only met him a few times. Him and Tyler were friends. I just liked going to the parties.”

“Describe him.”

“Tall as me. Sort of dark hair with gray in it. Older. And he had really creepy eyes. Like they were light, real light blue I think. That’s all I know.”

The truth hit like a bat to the face. “Luke.”

“Who?”

“Did Tyler ever talk about his brother?”

“Brother? I didn’t know he had one.”

“Fuck. Guard!”

Rowan’s eyes opened wide. “What, what did I say?”

“What you should have said when we first met.” I went to the door and banged on it. “Let me the fuck out!”

I needed to get back to town, back to Caroline, and discuss our next move. The Bayou Butcher wasn’t sitting here with me in this cell. He was in a high-rise in downtown New Orleans.