“Donaldson?”
He and Tori both looked up.
“What Hunter says on this goes. No questions. Do as she says. We have nine victims, possibly ten if your case checks out. Hunter is in charge of this. Clear?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
Malone scanned the empty squad room. “Where the hell is Adams?”
“He is… he called and said he had a doctor’s appointment.”
“If he’s gone much longer, he better hope they admitted him to the goddamn hospital. We need everyone here. We don’t have time for fucking doctor’s appointments!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hunter? I need a word.”
Tori sighed and shoved away from her desk. Now what?
“Close the door. Sit down.”
“What’s going on?”
“CIU is coming aboard.”
“What the hell for?”
“Two officers murdered, that’s what the hell for.”
“Lieutenant…”
But he held up his hand to stop her. “You can complain all you want, but it’s a done deal. I requested that Travis head it up. At least we know we can work with him.”
“Christ! CIU! I’m surprised Jenkins hasn’t been around yet.”
“Yeah. But I think he’s been keeping a low profile since the Gomez incident. I got a call from Travis yesterday about it. Both Jenkins and Mabry have bank accounts that have had large cash deposits in the last two years. You’d think they’d be smarter than that. Idiots.”
Tori shook her head. She hadn’t given much thought to Jenkins and Mabry. Politics being what it was, she could imagine the two of them weaseling their way out of this.
“Okay, enough of that. Let’s get up to speed on this. You sent Kennedy and Sikes to Fort Worth. What you got?”
“About six months ago, they found a gay man beaten, with his throat slit. He was left in a Dumpster in an alley about three blocks from a gay bar. It went down as a gay bashing. No suspects. They’re talking to the detectives who worked the case and then the ME. I’d like to get the report to Jackson to see if he can find a match on anything. Maybe he used the same knife.”
“Okay, good. What about missing persons?”
“We have three possibilities. A nineteen-year-old girl was reported missing last year by her grandmother. She was a lesbian and had been living with her grandmother for the last two years, ever since her family told her to get lost,” Tori said with just a hint of bitterness. “The grandmother said she’d often talked about moving to California. When she disappeared”-Tori shrugged- “they figured that’s where she’d headed and let it drop.” She flipped open her notes. “Two men disappeared within a week of each other last November. Both were reported missing by their lovers. There was no connection between them and not a trace ever found. That case is also dead.”
Malone nodded. “What about Ramirez?”
“Tony’s at the lab. I want him there when they go over the stolen Honda, maybe find a clue as to where he’s been hiding.”
“What about the Branson case? I heard a little of your conversation with Donaldson.”
“The Branson case was barely worked, Lieutenant. Why did you let them shelve it?”
“Because they had no leads-”
“No leads?” she asked, her voice rising. “I guess not. They talked to one person, the bartender.”
“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given them the case to begin with. I should have put you on it, but your case was taking off. I just didn’t want you to take time away from it. Not with the brass coming down on us like they were.”
“I’m going to talk to the bartender again, see if he can still remember anything. Shit, whatever leads there may have been will be long cold by now. Christ, Lieutenant, I can’t believe how they handled it. I thought they were good detectives. Hell, someone fresh out of the Academy could have done a better job than this.”
“I know, Hunter. Again, it’s my fault. Let’s just open it up again and go from there.”
“I’m going back to the bar, see if someone will talk to me.”
“You want to take Donaldson with you?”
“Are you kidding? No way.”
“Okay. Travis is coming over at three. Make sure you’re back. We need to brief him.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Pink Lagoon was still closed, but Tori saw activity inside. She knocked several times and waited.
“Police,” she called, tapping again on the glass, harder this time. “Open the goddamn door.”
Finally, someone came over, and they stared at each other through the glass. The door was opened, and a young man peered out at her.
“What?”
She held up her badge. “I’m Detective Hunter.” She pushed past the man and walked into the empty bar. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and beer. “I’m looking for one of your bartenders. Marty Stevens.”
“What for?”
Tori turned to face the young man, piercing him with a stare. “I have some questions regarding a homicide. Is he here?”
The man swallowed nervously, then tucked his long hair behind both ears. “I’m Marty,” he finally said.
Tori relaxed, then smiled. “Great. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Damn, Sikes. What happened to Ramirez? This one’s a hell of a lot cuter.”
John smiled apologetically at Sam, then pointed to his old friend Danny Gardner.
“This is Detective Kennedy, Danny. She’s just my partner for the day. Ramirez is still around.”
“Sorry to hear that, man.” Danny stuck out his hand and shook Sam’s. “Nice to meet you. John says ya’ll want to dig up an old case of mine.” He shook his head as he walked away, and John and Sam followed. “Been reading about it in the paper. Damn glad it’s in Dallas and not Fort Worth.”
They followed him into an empty conference room where he handed them each a folder.
“I made copies of what we got. It’s not much. Our guy was last seen leaving the bar about one-thirty. He was alone. He didn’t talk to one particular guy, didn’t dance with one particular guy. There was no one inside that raised suspicions. He was a regular.”
Sam scanned the file, noting that they had talked to at least a dozen people from the bar, not including friends and relatives.
“He had no enemies that anyone knew of, no threats, nothing. It appeared to be random. Thus, we labeled it gay bashing. But we still got shit.”
“You still have the case open?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. But it’s not like we’re working it. There’re no leads.”
John flipped to the back of the file and the Medical Examiner’s report, struggling through the medical jargon, trying to find something similar to their case. His fingers followed the words, stopping when he read a serrated knife was used on the neck.
“You had anything similar since? Or before?” John asked.
“No, Sikes. You know, the queers hang out more in Dallas. I think Fort Worth is a little too redneck for them.”
John felt Sam stiffen beside him, and he reached under the table and grabbed her arm, squeezing gently.
“Danny, we appreciate you sharing the file. I don’t suppose your ME could shed any more light, do you?”
“She might. Rumor has it, this one was close to home for her, if you know what I mean. She badgered us about this case for weeks afterward,” he said, grabbing a cup next to him and spitting tobacco juice into it. “But it wasn’t like it was the salt of the earth that was killed, you know?”
Sam stood, her disgust for this man growing with each passing second. “Thanks, Detective Gardner. If we find anything, we’ll be sure to let you know.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
John hurried after Sam, finally catching up to her just before she burst through the double doors.
“Christ, Sikes! He’s your friend?”
“Oh, calm down, Sam. Hell, he’s a cop. In Fort Worth. It’s not exactly the gay-friendly capital of the world, you know.”
“I don’t know why I’m complaining. They did a better job of investigating the murder than Adams and Donaldson would have.”
“Yeah. But, it’s also personal for you now, you know.”
Sam stopped. Yes, it was. “I’m sorry, John. It is personal. A month ago, I don’t know what my reaction would have been. I hope it would have been the same.”
“Can I tell you something, Sam? I’m sorry to say, I was much like Danny there. Queers, faggots. I didn’t understand. It wasn’t about relationships and love. It was just about sex. Hunter, for instance. She’s a damn attractive woman. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why she would rather be with another woman than a man. It made no sense. But the night we were in that bar with you guys, I saw women together and I saw men together and they were looking at each other… with affection and with love. It wasn’t just about deviant sex, you know? It opened my eyes.”
Sam reached out and squeezed his arm. “We’re all just people, John. We can’t control who we fall in love with.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I know. I also saw you two dancing and… well, kissing.”
Sam turned scarlet, remembering the way she and Tori had touched.
John laughed, then grabbed Sam’s arm and guided her to the car. “Come on. Let’s go look up the ME.”
Tori sipped from her Coke and studied the young man who stood across the bar from her. He absently wiped the already clean bar top with a wet rag.
“I understand you remember Jason Branson being here at the bar the night he died. He went by Lisa?”
“Yes. She preferred to be called Lisa.”
“Okay. Did she come here alone?”
“Yes.”
Tori flipped open her notes. “And she left alone?”
“Yes.”
“In between? Did she talk to anyone in particular?”
Marty stared at her for the longest time, finally leaning his elbows on the counter. “Why are you just now asking? It’s been well over a month.”
“I know. The other two detectives assigned to the case… well, it’s been transferred to me.”
“I’m not surprised. The old guy almost shit in his pants when I saw him.”
Tori frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He comes in every Saturday night. Sits down there.” He pointed. “Always drinks Jack Daniel’s straight up.”
“Adams?”
“I don’t remember what he said his name was. He goes by Carl. He was here the night Lisa died.”
Tori stared, dumbfounded. Part of her wanted to laugh hysterically, but she managed to control the impulse.
“Let me get this straight. Detective Adams, Carl, comes in every Saturday night, sits right down there, and drinks Jack Daniel’s?”
“Yep.”
“Does he… you know, dance and stuff?”
“Yeah. He likes them blond. Lisa was blond, if you get my drift.”
Tori rubbed both eyes with her thumb and forefinger, wondering where in the
hell
this was going. “Okay, let’s get back to the case. They came in asking about Jason. There’s not a whole lot in the report other than you knew him as Lisa.”
“I guess not. That’s about all they asked. The black cop wanted to ask more, but Carl pulled him out. I haven’t heard from them since. In fact, Carl hasn’t been in here since then, either.”
“Okay. Let’s forget about them. Let’s talk about Lisa. Was anyone harassing her, that you knew about? Any threats?”
“No. The only one harassing her was some dude she didn’t want to have anything to do with. He would come in here, watch her dance, offer to buy her drinks, but Lisa didn’t want no part of him.”
“Why not?”
“Lisa said the guy was straight and was just fucking with her. He was a little squirrelly guy. Came in every weekend for a while.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Little short guy, kinda weird looking. Dark hair.”
Tori opened up the file folder she was carrying, pulled out a picture of Richard Grayson and slid it across the bar.
“Jesus! That’s him.”
“Has he been in since?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay.” Tori took the picture and slipped it back inside the folder. “Marty, you’ve been a big help. If you happen to see him around, you’ll call me, right?” She handed over her card.
“Of course. Do you think he was the one?”
Tori scratched the back of her neck and nodded. “He’s wanted in a similar crime.”
“Bastard.”
“That he is.”
“Doctor Ferguson? I’m Detective Kennedy, this is Detective Sikes. We’re with Dallas PD. Homicide.”
The petite woman removed her wire-rimmed glasses and pointed to two chairs. “Sit down. I understand you have some questions about an old case.”
“Yes. Thank you for taking the time to see us on such short notice,” John said. He flashed one of his most charming smiles, noting with dismay that Dr. Ferguson had slid her eyes back to Sam, dismissing him. He shrugged. Apparently Gardner was right. He sat quietly, waiting for Sam to take the lead.
“About six months ago, a Patrick Colley was found beaten and left in a Dumpster. The police labeled it a gay bashing.”
She nodded. “Yes. Although
beaten
doesn’t nearly describe what happened to this young man. His face was so badly disfigured, he was hardly recognizable. He was sodomized with a wooden object, his penis and testicles were smashed and cut and he’d been stabbed twelve times. And just in case that wasn’t enough, he was decapitated for good measure.” Dr. Ferguson flicked her glance to Sikes. “So when the police labeled him as beaten, I took offense. This man was brutalized. Detective Gardner brushed it off as gay-bashing and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. They spent maybe a week on it, and it barely made the paper.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor Ferguson,” Sam said. “We have a similar case in Dallas. We were hoping you would provide us a copy of your report. We want to have our ME take a look at it for similarities.”
“I know Jackson. We get along well. Of course I’ll provide any help that I can. Nobody deserves to die this way and have it simply dismissed in less than a week. I’ll fax over the report immediately.”
Sam stood and offered her hand, noting the firm handshake the doctor gave her. “Thank you so much for your time, Doctor Ferguson. We really appreciate it.”
“No problem, Detective. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Her gaze moved briefly to John and she nodded in his direction. He forced a smile to his face, then quickly followed Sam from the office.
“Damn, talk about cold as ice,” he said quietly.
“You think so? I thought she was very helpful.”