Finally, she could put it off no longer. She turned on her cell phone. The insistent beeping told her she had messages. Four of them. She grabbed it and flipped through caller ID. All from Robert. She didn’t bother listening to them. She punched out his number, waiting only one ring before he answered.
“Are you okay?” he asked quickly.
“Of course.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m just leaving Albert’s,” she said.
“Albert’s? What were you doing at Albert’s?”
“We grabbed a burger after our workout. I’m sorry, I didn’t have a chance to call you,” she said, allowing herself that one small lie.
“I’ve been worried. I expected you home hours ago.”
Home?
“Robert, I told you I was going to work out. I didn’t think you’d be waiting for me.”
“I thought you’d be through by seven, at the latest. I waited for you. I thought we could have dinner together,” he said.
She groaned silently. She should have called him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “Do you want me to come over?”
“That would be nice. Even nicer if you’d pick me up something to eat.”
She nodded. “Okay. A burger?”
“Chicken sandwich would be better.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in about fifteen, twenty minutes,” she said. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed-alone. But she felt guilty for not calling Robert. She would go to him tonight, but she was not sorry she’d spent the evening with Tori Hunter.
Chapter Thirteen
Tori glanced up as the blond woman walked gingerly across the room. She set a tall cup on her desk and a matching one on Tori’s, then bent slowly to her chair.
Tori grinned and reached for her coffee, pulling off the lid and sniffing. Cappuccino. Mmm.
“Thanks. I’m surprised you were able to lift two, though,” Tori teased.
“Not one word,” Samantha threatened.
“Got a little lactic acid buildup, do we?”
Sam glared at her. “I couldn’t get off the toilet this morning, thank you,” Samantha said. “My thighs refused to cooperate.”
Tori laughed, causing several heads to turn their way. Even Adams and Donaldson looked up.
“You should’ve gotten on the stationary bike this morning, loosened up a little.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Maybe you should’ve had Robert give you a massage,” Tori suggested. “I hear that helps.”
Samantha only grunted. Robert was still a little peeved at her. Not so peeved that he didn’t want to sleep with her last night, but peeved enough not to want to talk about her night at the gym. She, however, was too tired for even a little snuggling much less making love.
“Hunter?”
Tori looked up as Fisk walked over, taking the note from his hands.
“Got another body. Little Mexico this time.”
Tori glanced at the paper and nodded.
“Thanks, Fisk. Come on, Sam. Time to play cop.”
Samantha squeezed her eyes shut as she stood, letting out a small groan at the burning in her thighs.
“Need help?” Tori offered. “Want me to carry you?”
“This is all your fault,” she said. “ ‘One more set, Sam. One more set,’” she mimicked, following Tori out of the squad room.
They both slipped on gloves as they walked over to the Dumpster. The Medical Examiner was still standing over the victim, taking pictures.
“Same?” Tori asked Rita Spencer.
“Hardly. Take a look.”
“Jesus,” Samantha whispered and she gripped Tori’s arm and squeezed hard.
Their girl was naked, covered in blood. Her stomach had been sliced open.
“There’s a lot of blood,” Tori said quietly. “Was she killed here?”
“Doubtful,” Rita said. “The blood is all concentrated on the victim, a little where it seeped down here.” She pointed into the trash bin. “They found a bloody footprint.” She turned and pointed down the alleyway.
“I’ll take a look,” Samantha offered. Anything to avoid staring at the young girl.
“So, killed somewhere else and dumped. If there’s this much blood here…”
“Yes, there’ll be twice as much at the scene. I’ve bagged her hands. Broken nails. This one fought back. We might get a skin sample.”
Tori shrugged. They already had DNA on a semen match on the first two. She stepped closer, looking around the Dumpster. There were drops of blood on the edge and a smear on the side.
“Any chance for prints?” she asked.
“No. The smear there is nothing. I’m sure he wore latex.”
Tori reached in and brushed the matted hair away from the girl’s face. Something wasn’t right.
“Rita… no makeup,” Tori said. She picked up the girl’s arm, staring through the plastic bag Rita had put around her hand. “No painted nails.”
“And?”
“I don’t think she’s a hooker.”
“Tori, the print is from a sneaker,” Samantha said as she walked back to them. She glanced once at the body, then back at Tori. “But, it’s walking away, not
to
the Dumpster. Why would there be a bloody print there”-she pointed-”and not here?”
They all stepped back, looking on the ground around them. Tori calculated the print was a good twenty feet from the Dumpster. It was also going into the alley, not toward the street, where a car could be parked.
“How far does this alley go?” she asked one of the uniforms standing by.
“Three blocks. But there’s a side entrance over there,” he pointed. “It splits the bakery and the grocery store.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Tori and Sam walked down the side alley, both looking at the ground for blood drops.
“Tori, a car would barely fit through here.”
“Yes. Barely. Check the trash cans. Maybe we’ll get a scratch.”
Sam nodded, walking toward the street, checking the cans. Tori walked beside her, letting Sam take the lead. Most of the cans were dented.
“Green paint on this one,” Sam said, pointing. “Could be anything, but it looks fresh.”
“Yeah.” Tori lifted the lid. The can was full. It smelled. “Great.” She looked back at the two uniforms who were standing in the alley waiting. “Sam, what’s that guy’s name again?”
“Sanchez.”
“Right.” Tori motioned to the two guys. “Sanchez? Find out what store this belongs to. I want to take it. Send it to the lab. I want this paint.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They squatted beside the trash can, looking at the small scrape of paint on the side.
“He drove in here,” Tori said, “bumping the can as he tried to squeeze between it and the wall. Parked up there. Carried the body to the Dumpster. Laid her out like all the others, then walked back to his car, leaving the one footprint.”
“Why just one?”
“And why that far from the Dumpster?”
“Maybe he left it on purpose,” Samantha suggested.
“A clue? To tease us? Then we really have a sick bastard,” Tori said.
“She was so much worse than the others,” Sam said quietly. “Why?”
Tori shrugged. “Maybe she put up more of a fight. I don’t think she was a hooker, Sam. Her face looked too clean. There was no makeup. Her nails were short, not painted.”
“He could have cleaned her up.”
“Why would he do that? The other two were made up. They looked the part. Not this one.”
Sam shrugged. She didn’t have an answer.
69 They had barely walked into the squad room when Malone called them into his office. He shut the door behind them.
“Captain called. Wants to know if it’s a serial for sure. If we think it is, we need to call in a profiler from CIU.”
“The first two are definitely linked. Won’t have lab reports until tomorrow.”
“What does your gut say, Hunter?”
“This one is different. I’m not certain she was a hooker. The first two were. The first two were strangled. This one had her belly ripped open. The first two had clothes on. This one was naked,” Tori stated.
“Copycat? Two murdered hookers has barely made the papers. I doubt a copycat,” he said.
“No. She was laid out in the Dumpster like the others. But maybe our angle of hookers is wrong.”
“What makes you think she wasn’t a hooker?”
“She was just different.”
“She had no makeup, Lieutenant,” Samantha said. “Her nails were short, not long and painted like the others.”
“Hardly conclusive. Come up with something. Two hookers slipped through the papers. Three? It’ll make front page. Mayor’s office will be calling. They’ll want to send someone over for a report. I’ll try and stall them for a few days.”
“At least until we get the lab results. I want to sit in on the autopsy tomorrow, too.”
“You want a profiler?”
“CIU? That ought to go over well,” Hunter said.
“Maybe you should let Kennedy handle that part. I don’t believe she pissed them off quite as much as you did.”
Tori was still entering notes about their case when Sam tapped her on the arm. Tori looked up wearily.
“I’m going,” Samantha said. “It’s after six.”
Tori nodded, then went back to her notes.
“I know you’re tired. Why don’t you give it a rest until tomorrow?” Sam suggested quietly.
Tori leaned back in her chair, watching Sam. Her pressed slacks were a little wrinkled now, but still neat. Her sleeves were rolled nearly to her elbows and her blond hair was in disarray. Tori knew it was from the numerous times Sam had run her hands through it during the day.
“I just want to make sure I get all the notes in the computer, while they’re still fresh.”
“Fresh? We’ve been going over this all day,” Samantha said. “I suppose you’ll be staying here tonight?”
“Probably.”
“Will you at least get dinner?”
“Yeah. I’m on first-name basis with the pizza delivery guy.”
“Okay. Then I won’t worry about you.”
“I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” Tori said.
“Well, get used to it,” Sam said as she walked away. Then she stopped. “I don’t even have your phone number. If I need you for something, how will I get in touch with you?”
“There’s just my cell.”
“Yes. I don’t even have that.”
Tori pulled out her drawer and grabbed one of her cards. She scribbled her cell number on the back and handed it to Sam.
“Thank you. Now get some rest.”
Tori nodded. “You, too.”
“I wish. I promised Robert I’d go to a dinner party with him. That’s the last thing I want to do.” Then she paused. “I could stay here with you and work. Then I’d have an excuse not to go,” she said hopefully.
“You don’t want to stay here with me, Sam. Go and have a good time. At least you’ll get dinner.”
Samantha nodded. Then she smiled and walked away, knowing that Tori would spend many more hours right there at her desk. She made a mental note to invite Tori to dinner again tomorrow after their workout.
Chapter Fourteen
Tori blindly grabbed for the last piece of pizza, and she scanned the computer again, going over the files for all three women. She was tired and her vision was blurry, but she didn’t stop. It wasn’t adding up. It was no longer about random hookers being murdered. She was convinced the third girl wasn’t going to be lumped with the others.
She landed again on the tattoo that Lorraine had on her arm. She had already read the report Sara supplied. It was brief. The design dated back to the early 1900s as a symbol of the first black krewe that secretly participated in Mardi Gras. It was now used by local gang members in New Orleans. Not much. Maybe the Internet could provide more.
But an hour later, she was still surfing through yet another Web page of tattoos. So far, no match. She’d found other Mardi Gras masks that had been used as designs for tattoos, but not this one. This one was dark, evil looking. Sinister. No wonder a gang had adopted it. She had given up hope that she would find it but continued flipping through the Web pages. She very nearly skipped right over it when it popped up on her screen.
“I’ll be damned,” she murmured.
“You still here?”
She jumped. She hadn’t heard Andy come in. He pushed the large trash bin in front of him, bending at Sikes’s desk to collect the trash.
“It’s late, Detective. I got your cot all ready.”
“Thanks, Andy. But who could sleep with all that racket down there. What’s going on?”
“They busted up some rave. Got teenagers running all over the station.”
She nodded, then looked back at her printout.
“Hey. Come here a second, Andy.”
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
“Look at this.” She pointed to the screen. “Does it match?” She held up the printout of their girl’s tattoo.
“Well, let’s see.” He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slipped them on, peering over her shoulder at the screen, then to the paper.
“Yup,” he said. “Appears the same.” Then he took the printout. “Except this here has that circle thing at the bottom.”
“Let me see.” She took the printout and squinted. Yes, at the bottom of their tattoo was a circle with a… damn, a female symbol. She looked back to the screen, then clicked on “variations.” Four came up. One had the female symbol. She clicked on that.
“I’ll be damned,” she murmured as she read. “Thanks, Andy.”
“Sure thing.” He walked on, emptying wastebaskets as he went.
“You hardly said two words all night,” Robert complained as they got ready for bed.
“I’m sorry. I’m just really, really tired,” she said. She brushed her teeth, then sidestepped him as she walked into his bedroom. She should have gone home. Damn, she should have stayed at the office with Tori. The dinner party had been unbearable. All she could think about was the case and the autopsy she would have to sit through in the morning. It had been years since she’d done an autopsy, and the last thing she wanted was to get squeamish in front of Tori.
“If you were that tired, we could have stayed home.”
“Robert, these are your colleagues. You couldn’t have stayed home.” She pulled back the covers and crawled under, sighing heavily.
“I just wish you had, you know, enjoyed yourself.”
“I got dinner,” she said, echoing Tori’s words. “That’s all that mattered,” she said quietly, rolling over and closing her eyes. She felt him crawl in beside her, felt his arm as he snaked it around her waist. She didn’t move.