A Caress of Bones: a serial killer thriller (Wren Delacroix Book 9), Page 3

  “Somehow, that bullet went out the back of his jaw, this way.” Queen gestured. “Never even touched his brain.”

  “Lucky man,” said Wren. Following shooting the officer, Poppy had sprinted across the parking lot to his car and peeled out of the parking lot.

  Within moments, ten squad cars had been chasing her, so by all rights, they should have brought her in by now.

  Somehow, she was still at large.

  “He’s going to lose his job, however,” said Queen. “He should never have gone in there. And looking at the footage, it seems he had a personal friendship with her or something. He should have disclosed that.”

  “I think he’s learned his lesson,” said Wren.

  Queen laughed. Then she dragged a hand over her face. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m laughing. We lost Graham today, and then we nearly lost Lemms. It’s not funny. Nothing is funny.” She sank down into a chair next to Wren.

  “Sometimes,” said Wren tiredly, “you can’t do anything except laugh.”

  “True,” said Queen. She eyed Wren. “So, what are you planning to do? Are you going to stick around?”

  “For tonight, anyway,” said Wren. “I’ll stay in a hotel for the night, and I guess assess things in the morning.”

  “By all rights, she shouldn’t have gotten away,” said Queen. “We underestimated her.”

  “She’s smart,” said Wren. “But she also got lucky. If she hadn’t been able to catch sympathy from Lemms, she’d still be in custody.”

  “True,” said Queen.

  “But if you guys pick her up again,” said Wren, “I guess you don’t really need me. It’s not as though you need to make a case against her.”

  “Well, you and your partner have experience with this,” said Queen. “And you can move across state lines if she manages to get free. Would you consider taking the case if we can’t find her?”

  Wren grinned. “Uh, definitely.” Hunting down Poppy sounded, well, fun, as messed up as that might sound. She guessed there were worse things than enjoying one’s work. However, she could never enjoy the idea that people had to die in order for her to have to do it, so she could never feel pure enjoyment. “But you wouldn’t mind letting this go?”

  Queen touched her chest. “Me, personally? I’ve got no connection to the case.”

  “Who worked it two years ago?” said Wren.

  “Harry Lovelorn,” said Queen. “But he retired this spring. He made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anyone knocking on his door and trying to pull him back in, if you know what I mean. You’re not stepping on anyone’s toes, if you’re worried about that.”

  “Well, I’d want to see what Lovelorn had,” said Wren.

  “Of course,” said Queen.

  “One thing that’s bothering me is that accent,” said Wren. “She doesn’t sound like she’s from around here. Is she putting that on?”

  “I think she’s originally from… Alabama, maybe? Louisiana? I don’t know. Somewhere south.”

  “Well, that would explain it,” said Wren.

  “I do think there’s some information in Lovelorn’s file about that, so I’ll dig that up for you.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” said Wren. “But tomorrow, because I think I’m about done for the day.”

  “Me too,” said Queen, giving her a tired smile. “You have a hotel set up for the evening?”

  “I’ll just go wherever’s closest,” said Wren.

  “There’s a Howard Johnson two blocks that way,” said Queen, gesturing.

  “That’ll do,” said Wren. “There isn’t a pharmacy within walking distance of the station, is there?”

  “Um…” Queen furrowed her brow. “I don’t think so. What do you need?”

  “Never mind,” said Wren, stifling a yawn. “I think I’ll just deal with that tomorrow too.” And she was going to get a Lyft to the hotel, even if it was within walking distance, because she didn’t think she could manage a two-block walk right now.

  This exhaustion was probably another sign.

  The test was going to be positive. She was pregnant.

  WREN’S phone was ringing.

  She groaned, rolling over in the hotel room bed, confused for a moment because she didn’t recognize her surroundings. It was also pitch black.

  She felt around for the phone and found it on the bedside table. It was Reilly calling, and it was 11:30.

  “It’s very late,” she greeted him in a sleep-ravaged voice.

  “Is it?” he said. “Well, I thought you must be working the case, because you said you were going to call me, and you didn’t.”

  “Oh.” She groaned again, burrowing under the covers with the phone. “I’m sorry. I was just so tired.”

  “Were you?” He sounded pleased about it. “Well, that sounds like a sign.”

  “I know,” she muttered. “I couldn’t make it to get another test. I’m sorry. I literally inhaled room service and then fell immediately asleep.”

  “You’ve been going to bed early the past few days,” he said. “I noticed.”

  “You didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, we weren’t talking about it,” he said.

  She smiled a small, happy smile, shutting her eyes and made a little humming noise.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” she said, still smiling. “I miss you.”

  “I wish we were together, too,” he said. “If I was there, I could take care of you. I could go get the stupid pregnancy test and I could get your food and I could—”

  “You could rest,” she said. “With your gunshot wound.”

  “Well, if I didn’t have a gunshot wound,” he said.

  Her smile widened. “Yes, when you heal, you will wait on me hand and feet and go on numerous trips to satisfy my various food cravings.”

  “I will absolutely do that,” he said. He was smiling too.

  “I am going to be very fat, and you are going to love it,” she said.

  He chuckled.

  She opened her eyes. “Oh, shit, we shouldn’t do this.”

  “What?”

  “It’s going to be negative, or I’m going to wake up and get my period, and then we’ll both be sad about it,” she said.

  “We’ll just try later,” he said. “You know, in a few months when we’re settled. It’s good to fantasize about a future together, Wren. I like it.”

  And she was smiling again. “I like it, too,” she whispered.

  They were quiet.

  “Do you want to know about the case?” she said.

  “So much,” he said eagerly. “But if you’re tired—”

  “No, I can tell you,” she said, and she rolled onto her back, tugging the covers to her chin, and talked at the ceiling, recounting everything that had happened since she arrived.

  “Well, wait,” said Reilly. “She’s crisscrossing the country killing men? Is that normal for a killer like this?”

  “Typically, black widows tend to cover up their crimes and get away with them because people don’t suspect a woman could be doing such a thing,” said Wren. “So, the travel is weird, but I think it’s mostly because after the second death, the police here were suspicious. Most killers like this would get through three or four men before someone would get wind of it.”

  “How is that possible?” said Reilly.

  “These sorts of women are just as manipulative and as good at faking human emotion as their male counterparts—maybe even better, since they’re socialized as women and are expected to have more emotional depth. They get off on the sympathy of the whole experience and they convince people that they simply have really bad luck. People feel really sorry for them, and they’re convinced that a sweet, harmless woman like her could never hurt a hair on anyone’s head.”

  “But this Poppy woman? What? She was going to pass off every man she married as being killed on their wedding night? How did she think she was going to get away with that?”

  “So
ciopaths are daring because they don’t think through consequences. She probably felt invincible and thought she’d never be caught. Then, once she ran, she probably thought that she was free forever, and that’s why she did it again.”

  “And now she may have gotten away one more time,” said Reilly.

  “Yeah, if they don’t pick her up, we may have to take this one on,” said Wren.

  “Oh!” said Reilly. “I was supposed to pass on to you that Trevon is heading up there. I think he’s flying out on a late-night flight to look at the body of that cop she killed. What did you say his name was? Graham?”

  “Leroy Graham,” said Wren. “What do they need Trevon for?”

  “I don’t know. Apparently, they’re eager for any federal help they can get,” said Reilly. “I wanted to go, too. I called the doctor and asked if I could fly, and he said not for another month.”

  “Well, if they don’t pick her up, she’s usually got a year-ish cooling off period, and she hit her last guy only six months ago, so we should have some time before we have to go chasing her across the country.”

  “Excellent,” said Reilly. “Oh, man, is it awful that I really want a case?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean, I want one too. But I’d rather they catch her and put her away, of course. Better that people are safe.”

  “Me, too,” he said.

  She yawned.

  “I should let you go back to sleep, huh?”

  “I am tired,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said. “You should rest.”

  “So should you,” she said.

  “We’ll both rest,” he said. “Call me tomorrow with any news, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” she said.

  “MALIAH!” said Wren. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Last minute decision,” said Maliah, waving around her takeout coffee cup. She was in the hallway at the Brookton Police Department, along with Trevon, who was also nursing some coffee.

  Wren had foregone coffee for the first morning ever, and she felt lost and confused. There hadn’t been any decaf in the hotel room. She’d figured she’d come in, greet Trevon, and then go out to get a pregnancy test and determine whether she should have decaf or not.

  “Where’s your coffee?” said Maliah. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Are you helping Trevon?” said Wren. She squinted. Wait, Maliah and Trevon seemed to be spending a lot of time together. Was that…? Trevon must be five or six years younger than Maliah, which wasn’t much more than the age difference between Wren and Reilly and it shouldn’t make a difference with men or women, not really, but—

  “I’m going to see if I can help with my mad digital tracking skills,” said Maliah. “Since she’s on the run and no one knows where.”

  “I said she should come,” said Trevon.

  “I always get left behind,” said Maliah.

  “True,” said Wren. “Well, it’s good to see you.” She looked them both over. Were they dating?

  “You want to look at the body with me?” said Trevon.

  “Sure,” said Wren, at the same time as Maliah said, “Well, okay.”

  The two women exchanged a glance.

  “I meant both of you,” said Trevon, grinning at them. He gestured with his head. “Lab’s this way. I already peeked in a minute ago when Maliah was finding the bathrooms.”

  Maliah pursed her lips. “You’ll be glad I located them later, I guarantee it.”

  He smirked at her, and Wren thought there was something affectionate in it. He shrugged. “I don’t doubt it. I don’t know why you’re being so touchy.” He turned and sauntered down the hallway.

  Maliah went after him and Wren brought up the rear.

  “So, how’d she kill him?” said Wren. “I heard stabbed, but I didn’t get specifics.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t looked too closely,” said Trevon, “but the body looked pretty bad.”

  “Is that weird?” said Maliah. “A woman killer stabbing?”

  “It’s not a favored method of killing for women,” said Wren. “Mostly because it takes a lot of upper body strength. My current theory is that she has sex with them and then strikes while they’re asleep or incapacitated in the afterglow.”

  “Is that…” Maliah shook her head. “You’re always telling me that women don’t do the sex-thrill-kill thing.”

  Wren shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s because she’s enjoying having sex with them or if it’s purely because it makes them easier to deal with afterward.”

  “Like, she might not be getting off on it,” Trevon threw over his shoulder.

  “That’s a way to put it,” said Wren.

  “Was that crude?” said Trevon. He had reached the lab. He pushed open the door. “Sorry. I’m bad with talking. Maliah can tell you. She has to correct every third thing out of my mouth.”

  Maliah rolled her eyes. “He’s a work in progress.”

  “Like you’re working on him?” said Wren. Should she ask if they were dating, or maybe was it none of her business?

  “No!” said Maliah. “I’m not… No.” She was forceful about that.

  Hmm. Wren didn’t know what she’d said wrong, but it was something. “Sorry.”

  Trevon was ignoring them. He was over on the other side of the room where the body was laid out on an examining table. He removed the sheet over the body and Wren’s attention was tugged immediately there.

  She was always drawn to dead bodies.

  Maliah’s and Trevon’s relationship status forgotten, she eased her way across the room, intrigued.

  But when she got closer to the body, the smell of blood and death hit her nostrils, and it was stronger than she remembered. She grimaced.

  “Bled out, femoral artery,” Trevon was saying, lifting one of the dead man’s legs. “All these stab wounds were done post mortem. She cut him here first and waited until he was dead before she started carving him.”

  “Carving?” said Wren.

  “Not a pattern or anything,” said Trevon. “It seems more experimental to me, as though she’s trying to figure out how much force is needed, whether she wants to slash or puncture, what the easiest places are to get the knife in.”

  “Interesting,” said Wren, stepping closer.

  Her stomach roiled.

  She hadn’t eaten much that morning, just grabbing a cereal bar from the continental breakfast on her way out of the hotel, but it was coming back up.

  She gagged, and then backed away, horrified.

  She had never, never once, felt like vomiting near a dead body. However, the smell was so intense.

  She had to get out of there before she gagged again.

  She turned and fled from the room.

  “DELACROIX?” came Maliah’s voice.

  Wren was in the stall in the bathroom. She’d heaved over the toilet more than once, but nothing had come up.

  “I’ve never seen you like that over a body,” said Maliah. “Are you feeling well? Is that why you don’t have coffee?”

  “I’m fine,” Wren managed.

  “Is this about Hawk?” said Maliah. “I heard that they remanded his case back to the lower courts for a new trial. That’s absolutely insane, and I can’t believe it.” Hawk Marner was a serial killer who had killed young girls in Cardinal Falls. He and Wren also had a romantic history that reached back into her youth. It was complicated, but he was an evil man who should never be let out of prison. The fact that he could be free was terrifying to Wren.

  “It’s not about that,” she said. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

  “Okay, well, is there something I can get you?”

  Wren sighed, straightening. She wiped at her mouth, even though she’d done nothing but spit a few times, and opened the door to the stall. “Uh… a pregnancy test?”

  “Seriously?” said Maliah.

  Wren rubbed her forehead. “I can definitely get it myself.”

  “We’ll go together,” s
aid Maliah. “Holy fuck. Does Cai know?”

  “Yes,” said Wren, laughing a little. “I mean, there’s nothing to know at the moment, but the evidence is mounting here, and when I saw you the other day, and I had that bag…”

  “What was that?”

  “That was a pregnancy test,” said Wren. “But it was a dud. It didn’t work. No results at all. And then before I could get another one, I was on a plane up here, and then last night, I was so tired, and—”

  “Okay, girl, calm down.” Maliah grinned at her. “Let’s go and find a pharmacy.”

  Wren hesitated, and then she smiled too. “Thank you.”

  WREN was watching the pregnancy test and Maliah was hovering next to her.

  “Look, look, look.” Maliah was pointing.

  Wren swallowed. “Yeah, I see that.”

  “That is another line,” said Maliah.

  “Yeah,” said Wren in a quiet voice. She’d taken a lot of pregnancy tests in her life—well, not a lot, but more than five, and she’d never seen another line appear in that window, but there it was. “Aren’t you supposed to… it says to wait two minutes, and it hasn’t been that—”

  “That line is not going to go away, Delacroix,” said Maliah. “You are well and truly knocked up.” She cringed. “Sorry. Is that… maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way?”

  Wren let out a little laugh. “No, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

  “Is it, um, is it good?” Maliah’s voice was quiet. “You and Cai, I know you’re talking about buying a house together, and you’ve been together for over a year, and you seem… like, really solid. He’s happy with you. I’ve never seen him so happy. So, is it good?”

  “It’s good,” said Wren, and her voice cracked a little bit. “Shit.” She shook her head. “What is it with the tearing up all the time?”

  “I think that’s part of it.”

  “But I’m, like, barely pregnant,” said Wren, although maybe that wasn’t true, because maybe her period was three weeks late, give or take, but… oh, Lord, she had been in such denial about this. This baby had been conceived in the weirdest of ways, in a strange ritual orgy, and then Cai had been shot in the stomach right afterwards, and… She drew in a noisy breath.