Killer Scents (3 page)

“Now let’s see, where did I leave off?”
He let his gaze
skim the page of the journal.

Lori is obsessed with plastic surgery. One day the papers told of a doctor being butchered in his office. The same doctor Lori held responsible for disfiguring her with a botched surgery
on
her lips.

Could Lori have killed him? She was definitely angry enough to make it plausible. I confronted her today. She became very irate and stormed from the room.

Now I jump at every noise. The thought of her coming after me and suffering the same demise as the doctor brings me to tears....

He nodded decidedly and slid the bookmark down the crease of the next page, following the familiar handwriting
.

Ready or not, Lori, here I come.

Chapter Three

In stunned silence
,
Becca sat on the edge of the leather chair. Since burying
her partner of ten years
, she’d become an expert at shutting down her emotions.

How is this possible? I just saw her a few hours ago. Why would anyone want to kill Susan?

“I want you to take me to her house now.” She
stood and
stared pointedly at Chief Thomson.

“You know I can’t do that, Becca. Please, sit down and I’ll try to explain what happened.”

She
sat
with a huff
. “Okay, but I want to know
everything
.
”
S
he narrowed her gaze on him
.
“
A
nd I mean everything.”

Her boss sat behind his desk and rubbed his
hands over his face.
“It was The
F
lorist.”

“The
F
lorist? Are you telling me some guy delivered flowers and shot her when she answered the door?”

Chief raised a hand to halt
her tirade. “Let me finish.” He waited until she settled back in her chair. “I’m afraid Susan isn’t his first victim. In fact, she is number four. The killer is a genius at covering his tracks. We have the best of the best trying to catch this prick, but so far he’s outsmarted us.”

“How do you know it’s him? There must be a least one person a day who is raped or shot by a stranger in their own home.”

“That’s not what earned him the title. He leaves each one in the exact same pose. The only difference is the variety of flora he puts in their hands.”

“Okay, that’s enough pussyfooting around. What exactly does
t
his whack job do?” She squelched
her volatile Irish temper
.

Chief sighed wearily. “Follow me.” He led her to the familiar brainstorming room where they showcased the bigger cases.

The overpowering
aroma
of pine cleaner flooded her senses, intensifying
her
already queasy stomach. Becca rolled her shoulders back and stepped over the threshold
. E
verything around her ceased to exist
as
she zoned in on the bulletin
boards
at the front of the room. Three of four
panels
shared pictures of The
F
lorist’s
victims
la
id out
on couch
es, each of them clasped
a
different
pristine
bloom
in their hands
, and
all of them had
a single gunshot wound to the head.

Becca swallowed hard
, trying
to process it all. She looked from one
board
to the next. In startling contrast to an otherwise peaceful expression,
all three
had their mouth
s
sewn shut.
E
nvision
ing Susan’s
last moments
sent a shiver up her spine
.

“Please tell me he did that to them
after
they were shot.”

Chief Thomson hung his head. “I wish I could tell you that, but no, he binds them and stuffs a different item in each of their mouths before he begins sewing.”

“What kind of items? Does he at least blindfold them?”

The last thread of her composure
began
unravel
ing
as
she watched the chief shake his head. She had a million questions and
all
she could think about was how terrified her sister
’s best friend
must have been.
For the first time since Darla passed away, she was actually glad her sister wasn’t around to witness her dear friend’s demise.

“How did he get in?  I can’t see
h
er opening the door to a stranger, even for a delivery.”

“The first three
he preyed on
were delivered a
flower
. The
perp
forced his way in when
each one
answered the
ir
door
s
.”

Becca
frowned
. “Why d
o
you say the first three? What
i
s so different about
Susan
’s murder?”

He shrugged. “From what our team can tell, he simply walked in the front door and
snuck
up on her wash
ing
the dishes.”

Becca choked.
She asked me to lock the door behind me...did I?
She
replayed the scene of her
departure
. “Oh, my god, it’s my fault!” She buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Becca. How can it be your fault?” He sat on the corner of a table and passed her a handful of tissues.

“I
stopped by to check in on her like I promised Darla I’d do
. Susan told me to lock the door on my way out.”
Her breaths came too fast
, teetering on the edge of hysteria. “That bastard must have watched me ride away. She was doing dishes when I left.”

Chief Thomson took her hands in his and squeezed. “Look at me.”

She
shuddered
, fighting tears. “I did it...”

“Look at me, Becca.” Her boss put a finger under her chin and raised her
head
to stare directly into her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if the door was locked or not. He chose
h
er for a reason and nothing could have stopped him.”

A young girl rushed into the room and began tacking photos on the fourth board. Susan stared back at her, eyes filled with terror, mouth sewn shut.

Chief took
Becca
by the arm and ushered her from the room. “Damn! I’m so sorry. You didn’t need to see that
right now
.”

She suddenly stopped
. T
he room spun around her. Susan’s face flashed over and over in her mind.
Her
knees buckled
as
strong arms wrapped around her and she fell into a black abyss.

Bright lights coaxed her awake and she blinked rapidly until the room came into focus.

I’m in a hospital room?

Her
dry mouth made it difficult to swallow. The image of
Susan
’s wide-eyed stare on the bulletin board came back to her.
I’m so sorry Darla.

Her
chest heaved
as
she tried to calm herself, and a sob rose into her throat. She quickly glanced in every direction
.
T
he weight of her head made it impossible to turn and see out the door.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” Panic
settled in
her voice, her fragile emotions
hanging
from a tattered thread.

Click
.
Click
. C
lick
.

A vision in stark white rushed to her side, taking her wrist in hand and checking her watch. “I’m right here
,
Miss Talbot. Take a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. I’m Nurse
Karen
, and you’re in the hospital where we are taking good care of you.”

“Why can’t I move my head?”

The nurse wrung out a cloth over a basin next to her bed and
smoothed it across
her heated brow
, its
coolness soothing. “We gave you something to help you stay calm. Your heart rate was sky high when your boss brought you in.”

“Chief Thomson?”
She relaxed
, the effort to talk suddenly too much.

“Why don’t you just close your eyes?” She re-soaked the cloth and laid it neatly across her forehead. “You’ll feel a whole lot better the next time you wake.  I promise.”

“M
m
m...
”

Randy eased back in his seat and removed his helmet, hanging it off his handlebars before he slid off his bike. At six in the morning the whir of a garbage truck marked the first sign of the city
’s
awakening.

The Westside
P
recinct was the only original station left. Its wide
stone
staircase commanded attention between the neat rows of newly restored brown houses and fragrant magnolias.

He winced attempt
ing
to run his fingers through his windblown mane.
It served him right for not tying it back. He’d put on enough miles to know better.

Randy
ambled
through the historic building
. He couldn’t figure out
why the chief
called in help from another division. Surely there was at least one detective here capable of partnering with Detective Talbot
besides him
.

He reached the empty meeting room where he’d agreed to meet Chief Thomson.
His gaze came to rest on a row of bulletin boards filled with disturbing photos of The
F
lorist
’
s
victims.

His long, low whistle
filled the room
. Other than the type of flower, there didn’t appear to be any differences
in the murders
. That
wa
s until he took a closer look
and discovered
the uneven sutures on the first victim
had
progress
ed
to perfectly spaced stitches
on
the last
.

“He’s one sick puppy, eh?”
Chief Thomson stood behind him,
stroking his five o’clock shadow
.
His red-rimmed eyes told how badly he needed sleep.

“I’d say so, Chief.” He offered his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

Chief pumped his hand. “I’m glad you agree
d
to come on board.”

Randy arched a
n
eye
brow. “I’m a little confused. Last I heard Becca took an early retirement.”

“Let’s just say she was on an extended sabbatical.”

“Even so, why me? There has to be at least one guy here who
’
s qualified.”

“Becca wants to come back and work the case. Technically she isn’t related to Susan, and I figure it’s better to let her in than have her
run off half-cocked and get hurt. She’s one of my best,
and t
he
detectives
here
are just too close to keep her under wraps.
She knows if there’s any sign of her emotions jeopardizing the case, she’s out.
” He slapped a file on the table in front of him. “Here’s what we know, the
guy
uses the same MO each time he
attacks
.”