A Caress of Bones: a serial killer thriller (Wren Delacroix Book 9), Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO

  POPPY Morgan had a hint of a southern drawl. She appeared amused and aloof, not the least bit concerned with the idea that she was being held in a police station.

  Wren thanked Queen and said goodbye. She shut the door and came across the room to sit across from Poppy.

  When Wren had been younger, women like this always made her feel awkward and lesser, as though Wren had somehow failed miserably at womaning. Poppy was femininity personified. Wren used to feel as if she was, well, not.

  But lately, she had left this sort of thing behind. Femininity was not one thing. There were different ways to express it. And this presentation that Poppy was presenting was as much a mask as it was a lure. She behaved this way because it attracted her victims, and she also probably wasn’t very good at genuine human emotion, so she fell back on this caricature.

  So, Wren didn’t let anything about Poppy make her feel anything at all. She eyed the woman blandly and sat down.

  “Tell me about the poison, Poppy.”

  “Aren’t we doing introductions?”

  “Didn’t they tell you I was coming? Don’t you already know who I am?”

  “As a matter of fact, they did not. I don’t know a thing. I just got picked up off the street and thrown in this room.”

  “Good thing you were one step ahead of the cops with Leroy Graham,” said Wren.

  “Not hard to be one step ahead when someone’s already come to arrest you,” said Poppy.

  “You could have run,” said Wren, raising her eyebrows. “Something here in New York keeping you?”

  “Is that really what you want to talk about?”

  “It’s interesting you came back,” said Wren, eyeing her. “I don’t know you real well, Poppy, but I can tell you’re not a stupid person. It would seem like a not-very-smart choice to make, coming back to a place where you knew people were looking for you. Since you are smart, I figure you had a reason.”

  Poppy leaned back in her chair, uncrossing her legs, slouching a little, mimicking Wren’s own casual posture. “You’re from the FBI.”

  “I said you were smart, didn’t I?”

  “Head games,” said Poppy, drumming her nails on the table. “You want to play.”

  “I didn’t start the game, Poppy,” said Wren. “This poison you’re talking about. Such a specific time frame until death. It’s interesting to me. I want to know more about it. Where’d you get it?”

  “You still haven’t told me your name.”

  “They really didn’t tell you anything about me?”

  “I told you that they didn’t tell me a thing.”

  “Well, I’m important,” said Wren. “That should please you. Knowing they flew me in as quick as they could to talk to you. How’s that make you feel? Proud?”

  “Everyone likes being fussed over,” said Poppy. “I’m going to guess that your name is Wynonna.”

  Wren laughed.

  “Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday? That’s a day of the week.”

  “Why are you wasting time with this? A man’s life is at stake.”

  “Well, the police don’t want to let you go. I think you know that. So, why do you think they brought me here?”

  “You must be some kind of brilliant interrogator,” said Poppy. “You’re going to convince me to give up the location of poor, poor Leroy.”

  “Oh, you two are on a first name basis, hmm?” said Wren.

  “He was a very nice man,” said Poppy.

  “Was he.” Wren repeated it quietly. She heaved a sigh. “My name’s Delacroix. Agent Wren Delacroix. I’m the person they call in to track serial killers.”

  “What?” Poppy threw back her head and laughed.

  “You and Leroy had a chance to talk, hmm? While you were administering the, uh, the poison? That’s when he was nice to you?”

  “Why’d you hesitate before saying poison?” said Poppy.

  “We both know why I hesitated,” said Wren. “Did you fuck him?”

  Poppy’s eyebrows shot up. Then she laughed again, delighted. “I like you, Agent Delacroix.”

  Wren got up from her chair and went to the door. It was locked from the outside to keep Poppy in, so she banged on it.

  It took a moment, and then the door opened.

  Queen didn’t look pleased.

  Wren pushed past her into the hallway and shut the door behind herself.

  “What are you doing?” said Queen. “We don’t have time to waste on this. You didn’t get anything from her. If you think that making her wait is going to work, she’s already been in there, all alone, for—”

  “Leroy Graham is dead,” said Wren. “As for where you’re going to find him, I’m hoping I’m wrong when I say that he’s probably stripped naked in a hotel room somewhere and that you’ll find that hotel when you run his credit cards. You did run his credit cards, right?”

  Queen shook her head slowly. “W-we didn’t. Why are you saying this?”

  Wren held up a finger. “First of all, that poison sounds bullshit, like something out of James Bond.” She held up another finger. “Second of all, she wouldn’t talk about it, and people like her enjoy bragging. If she had some hard-to-find intense poison like that, she’d be all in my face about how she found it and what it was able to do—”

  “You don’t know that,” said Queen. “You barely talked to her for two minutes.”

  Damn it. Where was Reilly? People liked Reilly. He was always so good with people. Queen was already annoyed with her. Wren held up another finger. “Third, she said Graham was a nice man, past tense. So, I know he’s dead, and there’s no poison. And because she said he was nice… well, I have a hunch she seduced him. I hope not, for the sake of his wife and his kids. Hell of a way for him to be found. You might want to keep it under wraps, if so. But, uh, by all means, go run his credit cards, would you?”

  Queen shook her head slowly. “You really are good, aren’t you?”

  Wren shifted on her feet, unsure how to take that. Hadn’t Queen been annoyed just a moment ago? “Uh, I just… maybe I’m wrong. I’d like to be wrong. I’d like him to be alive.” She pointed. “I’ll go back in and work on her.”

  “I’ll get someone running those credit cards.”

  Wren opened the door and stepped back into the interrogation room.

  “Aren’t cops supposed to be nice?” said Poppy. “Aren’t you supposed to bring me a Coke and tell me that I just made a mistake, and that it’ll ease my guilty conscience if I confess, all the while gently rubbing my arm?”

  “You have a guilty conscience?” Wren sat down across from her again. “Ready to fess up to the fact that there’s no poison?”

  Poppy smirked.

  “It’ll ease your guilty conscience,” said Wren.

  “I’m serious about the Coke.”

  Wren gestured. “There are cameras, and other people are watching. If anyone feels like getting you a Coke, I’m sure they’ll get on that. I don’t actually work here, so I wouldn’t know the first thing about where to find soda.”

  Poppy sighed. “Too bad. I’m very thirsty.”

  “There’s no poison. Leroy Graham is already dead.”

  “I’m not staying here,” said Poppy. “I’m not talking until I get released. You give me a phone, and once I’m gone, I’ll text the location where you can find Leroy Graham.”

  “Find his body, you mean,” said Wren.

  Poppy didn’t say anything.

  “How’d you kill him?” said Wren. “It’s interesting that you don’t kill the same way every time. Also I don’t know what your primary motivation is, but it might not be financial. You’re very interesting to me. You don’t see a lot of female serial killers like you.”

  “I’m not… what you keep calling me.” Her accent thickened.

  Wren grinned. “No? You might as well admit it. We all know what you did. This fine police department has been trying to get you in custody for years. And I want to k
now all about you. That’s what I do, you understand. I study serial killers. The varying method of killing, the way you’re sometimes so… gory about it? That’s fascinating to me. Let’s talk about that.” She let her voice drop in pitch, getting almost throaty. She wished she was faking it, but she was interested.

  Poppy blinked at her, lips parting. She sucked in an audible breath, and then she lifted her thumb and ran it over her bottom lip, gazing at Wren. “What did I say?” she breathed. “Head games.”

  “Are you trying out different ways to see which one you like the best?” said Wren. “Do you do it after they’re asleep or do you wrestle them down? How strong are you, Poppy?”

  “Look, I never killed anyone,” said Poppy.

  Wren snickered. “Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry, it’s just… that didn’t even sound believable.” It had, but she was starting to have fun now. Maybe she was playing head games.

  “You said earlier that I was smart,” said Poppy. “And you also pointed out there are cameras in here, recording everything. So, you can’t really think you’re going to convince me to admit anything right now.”

  “Well, you already threatened a man’s life,” said Wren. “Even if Leroy Graham is found, safe and sound, then you’d still be charged with attempted murder. You can’t ever get out of this clean at this point. Face up to that, Poppy.”

  “Leroy can be found,” said Poppy. “But I need to be set free first.”

  “Never going to happen,” said Wren. But maybe she shouldn’t be this way. She was ninety percent sure that Leroy was dead, but if he was alive, then maybe she shouldn’t be so flip. “Is there something else you might want to bargain with? Something a bit more reasonable to request?”

  “No. I want my freedom. My freedom for his life. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to me.”

  “Why don’t you walk me through how you administered this poison?”

  “I thought you didn’t believe he was poisoned.”

  “Convince me,” said Wren. “How did it work? He came to arrest you, and… what? You said, ‘Oh, Leroy, I’ve been wrongfully accused.’ Was he sympathetic?”

  Poppy didn’t say anything.

  “Men can be very stupid when they’re turned on, can’t they?” said Wren. “It should have worked, honestly, Poppy. You seduce him, kill him, and then you run before anyone can find you. Why didn’t you run?”

  Poppy pressed her lips together.

  “Where did you take him? To a hotel? It that where his body is?”

  There was a knock on the door, and it opened. Queen was there, beckoning for Wren.

  Wren got up. “You’ll have to excuse me Ms. Morgan.” She went out of the interrogation room.

  “All right, no hotel room,” said Queen once they were out in the hallway, with the door to the room shut behind them. “But he did get gas on his credit card, and he bought food. But not in the city limits. He was out on the outskirts of town. I talked to his partner, and he say that Leroy has a cabin out there which he mostly uses for hunting, but that his partner has been out there with him drinking, that it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to bring a woman there. Anyway, we sent squad cars, so we’re just waiting to hear back.”

  Wren sighed heavily.

  “Should be any minute now,” said Queen. Her phone beeped. She looked at the screen.

  Wren waited, but when Queen lifted her face from the screen, Wren knew it was bad news.

  “Damn it,” she said. “I wanted to be wrong about this.”

  “Stabbed,” said Queen. “Been dead since last night.”

  Wren hung her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  OFFICER Rob Lemms had been bringing in a report to hand off to the captain when she was watching the interrogation this fancy FBI lady was doing on Poppy Morgan. Rob had known Poppy a little bit before all this had happened.

  Well, he hadn’t really known her so much as he’d hooked up with her once at a party. She’d been fresh from the death of her first husband, and he knew some people thought it was obscene that she was out and about so much while she was grieving, but he thought it was pretty normal for people to be a mess after the death of a loved one, so he hadn’t blamed her.

  Even now, he had to admit that it was weird to think that she could have actually killed someone. He wondered if there was some kind of mix-up about it all. Rob was a cop, and he liked to think he had an instinct about people. If Poppy was really a murderer, he would have been able to tell when he’d slept with her, wouldn’t he?

  Well, he had been pretty drunk at the time. She had been, too.

  He didn’t remember a lot about the encounter, truth be told. And she’d woken him up in the middle of the night and demanded he drive her home. He remembered that part. She’d told him she was upset about her late husband, and he’d tried to comfort her and convince her to stay, but she had been insistent that she needed to go.

  He’d heard her say that she wanted a Coke, and he’d heard the FBI woman say she didn’t know how to help out, but Rob knew. He headed out to the soda machine and put in a dollar. Can of coke in hand, he headed to the interrogation room and knocked once before opening the door.

  Poppy sat up straight, blinking wide, blue eyes at him.

  Wow, she was prettier now than she had been that night years ago. Maybe she just cleaned up nice. He remembered her coming off as a little trashy back then. White trash and slutty and demanding. It might be a little crazy, but he couldn’t say those were things he minded in a woman.

  He gave her a smile. “Hey, Poppy. You probably don’t remember me.” He turned to prop open the door a little with the foot of a chair. If he didn’t, it would automatically lock when he closed it, a security measure. He didn’t really have authorization to be in here, and he didn’t want to have to knock to be able to be let out.

  “Rob,” she said, shaking her head. “Wow. I guess I forgot you were a cop.”

  “I heard you wanted a Coke.” He gestured with the can.

  “Wow,” she said, giving him a wide smile. “That’s so sweet. God, you’re really a nice guy, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “No matter who we’re interrogating, we usually ask if they’d like something to drink.” He set it down in front of her. “Here you go.” He gave her a nod and then turned his back on her.

  “Wait,” she said. “Are you leaving?”

  “Just dropping that off,” he said over his shoulder.

  “It’s only that I’m…” She got up from her seat and came after him. “It’s so nice to see a friendly face. This whole thing has just gotten out of control, Rob. You know me. You know I’m not… do you know they’re calling me a serial killer? Can you even believe that?”

  He wavered. Wow, he really couldn’t believe that she had committed these crimes. “I really shouldn’t talk about an active investigation.”

  “Okay, you don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m scared is all.” Her lower lip started to tremble.

  He could hardly stand that. Watching a pretty girl cry, it wasn’t easy. “Hey,” he said, turning the rest of the way around and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be all right. You must have called someone when they brought you in.”

  “I don’t have anyone to call,” she said, and a tear slipped out over her cheek. She ducked down, wiping at it, uttering an embarrassed laugh. “I’m so sorry. It’s only that you’re the only person who’s been even remotely nice, and I just…” She launched herself at him suddenly, pressing into his arms.

  He was surprised, and he attempted to extricate himself. “Oh, hey, look, Poppy, I can’t really—” His voice died in his throat as he felt the cold metal of the barrel of his own gun pressing into the bottom of his chin. She’d taken it right out of his holster at his waist. He stiffened. “You sneaky little bitch,” he said, but he wasn’t even angry, just impressed.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I really do appreci
ate the kindness. And I seem to remember that you had a nice dick.” She smirked. “We’re going to walk, okay?”

  He looked at the door, propped open an inch with the chair foot. If he’d let that door lock, this wouldn’t be happening. They’d both be trapped in here until someone let them out.

  You are a real idiot, Rob, he thought to himself. Way to think with that nice dick of yours.

  She pressed the gun more firmly into his chin. “Walk.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sure thing.”

  They burst out into the hallway.

  Everyone in the station seemed to hear them. Everyone turned from what they were doing, or rose from their cubicles, or slowly lowered coffee cups from their lips. Everyone gazed at them. It was utterly silent.

  “No one stops me,” she said in a sugary sweet voice, her accent deeper than he remembered. “Or I paint the ceiling with his brains.” A pause. “I sure would hate to have to do that.”

  No one moved.

  They inched their way through the station, past the FBI lady, who was clenching both of her hands in fists.

  Poppy nodded at her as they went past. “Nice to meet you, Agent Delacroix.”

  When they exited the station, Poppy wanted to know which car was his.

  “What are you going to do to me?” he said. Suddenly, he was afraid. He didn’t know why he hadn’t been before. She’d had the gun to his neck the entire time, but it had seemed like a game. This was a woman he’d kissed. He couldn’t seem to fathom the idea that she was dangerous, but now…

  “Give me your keys, Rob,” she said.

  “What if I say no?” He swallowed.

  She felt around in his pocket and found them. She tugged them free and kissed him on the cheek. “Real sorry about this,” she said.

  And then she pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “HE’S going to live,” said Queen to Wren.

  “Officer Lemms?” said Wren. She was sitting in a chair next to Queen’s desk in the police station. She was seriously exhausted. All she wanted to do was crawl into a bed somewhere, but she didn’t have a bed.