Illusions of Death (8 page)

Chapter 17

Silence permeated the car. Logan took slow, even breaths. Murders rarely occurred in these little havens outside Atlanta. Detectives handled burglaries. Drugs. A few sexual assaults. If he’d been a patrolman in the Springs, he might’ve cleared wrecks or dealt with teenage drinking.

But murder, here in his neck of the woods, brought a deep unease. And not the drugstore variety of murder. A savvy serial killer who had murdered over and over again.

This would be his tenth victim.

Rick pulled into a cul-de-sac, waving at a patrolman moving sawhorses to block vehicles from approaching. Of course, that didn’t stop the foot traffic. Logan saw a crowd of stay-at-home moms and retired citizens already gathered.

A paunchy officer with a receding hairline met them on the front sidewalk. Mabry made a quick introduction and motioned for a report.

“Twenty-eight, white, divorced. Taught at Wilson Elementary the last three years. Neighbors said the ex is out of the country working for an oil company—”

“—in Qatar,” Logan finished. “It’s Jeanine Tyler.”

The officer nodded. “Cell phone’s ICE had a Walton Springs number. You know her, Detective?”

“A long time ago. I played high school ball with her brother Gregg. Jeanine was probably ten the last time I saw her. Gregg died in a car accident after we graduated. This’ll be rough for the Tylers. She was the only child left.”

“Canvas turn up anything?” Rick asked.

“Not yet. Lady next door said she was a runner. Up about five-thirty most mornings. Said she pounded the pavement like it was her ex’s face. The neighbor said he’d cheated on the vic. She even took back her maiden name after the divorce. Neighbor’s retired, didn’t hear a peep, and she seems the nosy type that would know.”

“What about Brady and Malone?”

“Took the principal downtown. He barfed in the bushes after catching sight of the body. Can’t blame him, Loo.”

The patrolman’s pained face said it all. Logan mentally prepared himself as they moved toward the front door.

Dread seeped through his veins. In Atlanta he finally realized that he could never get used to it, only hardened. Answer enough calls and even the grisliest scene becomes old hat. He’d throw a switch and automatically be in homicide mode. Couldn’t look at the dead as a person, at least not then. A cold dispassion took over. Study the scene. Think like the killer.

Only later did he allow himself to think of the vic as a person. Someone who loved and was loved. Someone robbed of time.

Still, he was glad he was out of practice. He wouldn’t trade going back to that work life in Atlanta in a million years.

The hum of activity never changed. He let Rick take the lead as they entered. Logan knew the details about Roy’s victims. A macabre interest drove him to read the police reports circulated along with the FBI profiles to local law enforcement. He knew Jeanine would be hand-painted a garish yellow as Roy cycled around the rainbow to his latest innocent.

An average living room held the requisite sofa, coffee table, and entertainment center. Everything clean and orderly. No newspapers scattered about or clipped coupons or magazines in sight. He remembered Jeanine being neat, her hair always braided, a matching ribbon to her outfit woven into it. She hadn’t been a grubby child with skinned knees or untucked shirts. Obviously, she hadn’t changed as an adult.

Logan soldiered on behind Rick, down a hallway. A small bedroom converted into a study came first, followed by the master bedroom at the end of the passage. As they stepped inside, both men automatically reached into their pockets to slip on gloves.

The amount of blood surprised him. Roy had strangled some of the previous vics with piano wire, a rather neat way to leave a crime scene. Some had been tortured with a knife, but Roy was careful. No arterial spray. Yet this scene had a huge amount of blood spatter. Blood soaked the mussed bed covers, as well. Jeanine lay atop them, her nude body coated in bright yellow paint. He watched the ME check the body and had to look away, saddened at the end the neat little girl came to.

He forced himself to look at the wall next to the bed. High above the headboard glared the killer’s trademark signature. A tongue fastened to the wall with what would undoubtedly be a knife from the kitchen. This detail had been held from the press, kept in reserve so only law enforcement knew about it. At least until the last murder. The leak hadn’t been discovered yet, but a reporter had made it public.

One difference leaped at Logan. He looked back at the body on the bed. Jeanine’s eyes were missing.

Mabry nudged him. “The knife matches a steak set from the kitchen. What do you make about the eyes? He hasn’t taken trophies before. You think he’s escalating?”

Logan voiced a thought. “What if it’s not Roy this time, Rick? What if we have a copycat on our hands?”

Rick’s mouth tightened. “Hard to say. They still can’t find any link between the vics. Usually, the pattern becomes evident with this many killed, but not with Roy. He’s killed male and female, every race. All ages.”

The ME snapped off his gloves. “I’d place TOD between midnight and two this morning, based on lividity and her body temp. Throat was slashed, probably with her own knife. Roy hit a major artery, hence our Jackson Pollack display.” The examiner’s mouth hardened. “He’s changing things up, gentlemen. And that’s not good.”

They stayed a few more minutes before Rick said he wanted to get back and talk to the principal. They drove in silence, each man lost in his thoughts.

Logan knew serial killers hit a point where they began to unravel. It looked as if Roy had reached that place in his lengthy crime spree.

Someone had to stop him. Soon.

Karlyn laced up her running shoes and stretched. She pocketed her cell and keys and started out. The morning smelled fresh, crisp after a shower last evening. She wove her way through residential streets before moving toward town.

A coal black Lab fell into step with her. He startled her the first time he did so, but they’d become regular running buddies since she’d been in Walton Springs. Karlyn checked his tags and took him home the first time it happened, but his owner Jonas Watkins explained that Hugo loved to run.

“Belongs to my son, actually. He got transferred overseas for a year. I try to walk him, but Hugo moves too fast for me.” Jonas patted the Lab’s head. “He’s a good boy. Roams a bit, but he always comes home.”

After that, Karlyn didn’t mind the friendly dog’s company. She always made sure to loop by Jonas’s house to return the dog. Hugo would fall out and rush up to the door. More often than not, Jonas sat on the porch, sipping an iced tea, and shouted his thanks.

She rounded a stretch that headed up to Main Street. She spied Logan and wondered why he was out before six in the morning. He looked her way, a deep frown crossing his brow.

“What side of the bed did you crawl out of?” she tossed out jokingly as she approached.

Karlyn would’ve kept going, but Logan stepped out and blocked her way. She came to an abrupt halt, Hugo running ahead and then circling back, his tail wagging impatiently. She jogged in place, not wanting to interrupt her rhythm.

“Don’t tell me you’re out here at this time every morning,” he ground out.

“No. Sometimes, earlier. Sometimes, I write first and then run mid-afternoon. I don’t have a set time. Why?”

“Stop!” Logan put his hands on her shoulders. Karlyn quit moving.

“What’s wrong?”

His fingers dug into her shoulders. “That hurts,” she told him. She took a step back. Hugo froze at her tone and stared quizzically at Logan, his head cocked at an angle.

“Don’t you ever listen to the news? Didn’t you hear what happened yesterday?”

Karlyn drew a blank. “No. Chris and I kicked around some ideas last night since he’s leaving around noon today. I didn’t catch the news.”

Logan expelled an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his coal black hair. “A Rainbow Murder happened in the next town. Fountain Valley. A teacher whose little kids aren’t going to understand why she’s not in her classroom anymore. I saw her body, Karlyn. It wasn’t pretty.”

“But why are you mad at me? Maybe I’m slow in the mornings, Logan. What’s the connection?”

“She was a runner. Ran each morning.”

“So?”

“So? Maybe Roy watched her. Saw she always ran alone. You shouldn’t do that. The Springs gives people a sense of false security. But if the Rainbow Killer struck a few miles from here, he could hit here, too. Hell, he could live here for all we know.”

Karlyn snorted, her fisted hands coming to rest on her waist. “First of all, I ran all the time in Central Park. That’s big, bad New York City, Detective. I’ve taken a self-defense course. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

She glanced down at the lab. “And if you haven’t noticed, I do have a running partner. This is Hugo.”

“I know Hugo. The entire town knows Hugo.” Logan reached down and scratched between the dog’s ears. “He’s the sweetest mutt around. If someone attacked you, Hugo wouldn’t be much help.”

“No one will come near me, Logan Warner. I’m fast when I turn the speed on. If Roy G. Biv were after me, my adrenaline rush would make me fly.”

Karlyn placed a hand on his arm. “I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you. But Roy isn’t going to tackle me and paint me in public. Can I move on?”

She saw he still struggled, his face pained.

“I worry about you, Karlyn. That’s all.”

She squeezed his arm. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me. No one has in a long time.”

“Would you like to go for a motorcycle ride tonight?” he asked out of the blue. “When I’m troubled, I take my bike out and think.”

Her insides coiled in anticipation. Her body next to his. Her arms wrapped around his waist. “I’d like that.”

He grinned. “Seven? We could grab a burger while we’re out.”

“Only if it has cheese on it. And tons of grilled onions.”

“I can manage to find us a burger joint.” Logan patted Hugo’s head. “Take care of her, boy. Don’t let her do anything too crazy.”

Karlyn took off. Hugo fell into step as she ran down Main Street. It was sweet that he worried about her safety. Mario never had. Her parents hadn’t, either. Other than Alicia worrying about Karlyn hitting her deadlines, she couldn’t think of the last time someone had been concerned about her.

She smiled. Logan Warner might be a little bossy, but in a good way. Now her biggest problem was thinking how to avoid hat hair when she took off her helmet tonight.

Chapter 18

Logan glanced in the mirror and ran a comb through his hair. “I may not be as good-looking as Matt Collins, but I make up for it with my sparkling personality,” he said aloud.

He picked up Karlyn’s latest book, featuring her famous private investigator. He wanted her to autograph the hardback, but he had nowhere to put it since they were taking the Harley out.

Logan turned the book over. Karlyn’s emerald green eyes shone with a little bit of mischief and a whole lot of sex appeal. Her picture alone revved his pulse up.

And the lady could kiss. He thought of their brief encounter in his car and hoped they could repeat that—and more—tonight. Her slender, athletic body snuggled next to his on the bike would probably ignite flames that people could see from here to Lexington.

Logan tossed the book aside and grabbed his keys. He locked the apartment and headed down to the diner, moving fast. He didn’t want to stop to talk with any customers. He was too eager to see Karlyn.

“Hey, sugar pie. Heard you might need my autograph. And it’s chicken and dumplings tonight.”

Mandy stood behind the counter, her eyes dancing with a come-hither look as she rested a hand on her hip. Logan hated squashing her hopes. She always had a ready smile for him and practically begged him to ask her out with those baby blues on a regular basis.

“I’d love for you to sign my petition, Mandy, but I don’t have it with me. I’ll bring it next time.” He raised a hand to wave goodbye.

“Logan Warner, your political consultant would have your head,” she scolded.

He shot her a look. “I don’t have a political consultant.”

“Well, you do now,” she said. “First, don’t look like you’re in such a hurry when you’re talking to a potential voter. Stop. Chat. Smile. Even flirt a little.”

“Flirt?”

“Yes, flirt. You’re a nice-looking man, Logan. That’ll win you votes. Plus, politics means power, and power is an attractive thing to a woman. And
always
keep your petition with you. You never know who you’ll run into. I won’t even charge you for the advice.”

“You’ll want your name listed on my campaign website?”

“
Head
political consultant.” Mandy smiled. “I like the ring of that. So get the petition, will you?”

Logan saluted her and headed back upstairs. He would get his list and pick up a helmet for Karlyn, which he’d forgotten. Of course, his new head political consultant would wring out of him that he was taking a female friend for a ride. That tidbit would spread like wildfire over town.

He grinned. If he set up a table on the square tomorrow, he guaranteed a couple dozen would stop by to find out what was brewing between him and Karlyn.

He might as well get their signatures at the same time.

Logan folded the petition and slid it into his inner jacket pocket. He found the extra helmet and returned to the diner.

Presenting Mandy with the petition, she whipped out a pen from her apron and signed it with a flourish.

“Hmm. Extra helmet. Are you offering free rides for signatures?”

“Would that be a good idea?”

She studied him. “You’re freshly showered because you’re hair’s still damp.” She breathed in. “A hint of cologne. I’d say our next chief of police has a date with that writer I’ve heard about.”

“You’re right. Shouldn’t that raise my profile with the voters, Madam Consultant?”

“Only if you’ll get out of here and let me spread a little gossip, honey.” Mandy’s eyes skimmed the café. “Hmm. I spy Casey Attaway.” She grinned. “I think I’ll go pour him some more coffee.”

Logan exited the diner. And bumped into Seth Berger.

“Evening, Warner.”

“Berger.”

He viewed his colleague with new eyes since they were now opponents in the race.

What he saw didn’t wow him. Berger was lanky. A little under six feet, with a walrus mustache and mud-brown eyes. He rarely smiled, probably to hide his crooked front teeth. He was a loner. Divorced for a decade with no children. Kept to himself—at work, at church, and in his leisure hours. Berger liked to hunt and fish, but always alone.

Maybe that’s why Logan thought he was missing the trust factor. Usually small town police were friendly with fellow officers and townsfolk alike. They had a bond and enjoyed service to others.

Berger rarely spoke to anyone. He went out of his way not to speak at the station. He liked working cases alone, with no input from his colleagues. Seth Berger trusted no one; no one on the force seemed to trust him.

“Heard you’re running for chief,” Berger ground out.

“You heard right.”

“I’m expecting a fair fight.”

“I wouldn’t give you any other kind.”

Berger’s eyes narrowed. “Let the best man win.” He brushed past Logan to enter the diner but turned back.

“If I win, I’ll expect your resignation. Don’t need wannabes in the Springs. I don’t care where you go. Maybe run to Fountain Valley with your little pal Rick Mabry. But I don’t want you here. Understood?”

“You’ll have to win. I don’t aim for that to happen.” Logan hurried away, anger seething as he cut down the alley to his bike.

Resign?

Like hell. He planned to win. Big. Seth Berger be damned.

Logan pulled up and saw Karlyn waiting for him on the porch swing. She came down the steps, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Tight jeans molded to her hips and butt left little to his imagination.

She reached for the helmet he offered and swung it onto her head.

“I am starving, Warner, so this hamburger joint better be good.”

“Then we’ll eat first and cruise after.”

Karlyn snapped the strap in place and threw her leg over the bike. She snaked her arms around his waist and locked her fingers together. Her floral perfume wafted around him, revving up his own engine.

“Hang on,” he warned. “We’re gonna fly.”

Logan gunned the motor and enjoyed the rush of wind that came. The open road. A beautiful woman nestled against him. It had the makings of a perfect night.

They arrived at Aunt Ju’s fifteen minutes later. He killed the motor and let Karlyn climb off before he did. She lifted the helmet, her smile broad.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. I might have to buy one.”

Logan gave her an appraising look. “A bike virgin, huh?” He stroked the seat of his Harley. “This is the best baby on the road, but it takes a lot to control her. You might want to stick to your convertible.”

“It’s rented. I don’t own a car. I need to think about that.”

Logan escorted her inside, where a jukebox played country tunes and over half the red vinyl booths were filled. “Have you made any plans about where you’ll end up?” He waited, on edge, hoping to hear that she was staying put.

Karlyn nodded. “I need a clean break with my past. Plus, I want to know Mother better.” She brightened. “Maybe I can establish residency and vote for you in the next election.”

“I’ll need every vote I can get, but let me try to win this one first.” He described his encounter with Seth Berger after they were seated.

“What an asshole. Could he force your resignation? Or fire you?” She bit her lip. “I mean, not that I think you’ll lose.”

Logan laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. He’d need plenty of documentation to fire me. But he could create an uncomfortable work environment that made me want to leave voluntarily.”

She shuddered. “He gives me the creeps. Mother pointed him out at the hardware store. We went to get keys cut for me. He was buying paint and fertilizer. I told her who knows—he could be the Rainbow Killer.”

“You’ve got a vivid imagination, Karlyn. I know it serves you well in your writing, but Seth Berger a killer? Come on. I’d like to think Roy G. Biv had a personality.”

They ordered and Karlyn asked, “What can you tell me about this latest murder? I could tell it upset you.”

He leaned his arms back against the edge of the booth. “I knew the latest victim when we were kids. She was a good person. It’s hard to believe she’s gone. Especially in such a brutal way.”

Karlyn leaned closer. “I scoured the Internet looking for info on the cases. I can’t find any kind of link between the victims. They vary in age. Ethnicity. Occupations. The only thing consistent is Roy working his way through the colors of the rainbow. In order.”

Logan nodded. “Cops are baffled. They’ve tried establishing connections between the vics. Three and eight joined the same health club. Two were gay but didn’t have any friends in common. Three were Baptist, but in Georgia that’s nothing new. They worked in different areas, belonged to different libraries, had varying incomes. No obvious connections.”

The server arrived with their platters and beers. Karlyn bit into her Swiss mushroom burger. “Grilled onions on a burger should be a national law.”

“The fries are pretty amazing,” Logan added as he doused his in ketchup.

Karlyn returned to Roy. “He must be strong since several victims have been strangled. That’s not an easy death to pull off, especially with the size of some of the male victims. I know that from my research.”

Logan put his burger down. “Can I count on your professional discretion? This goes no further.”

“Of course. He’s escalated, hasn’t he?”

He admired how perceptive she was. “He slashed Jeanine’s throat. His previous scenes have been gruesome. But pristine. This was messy.” He paused. “He also took a trophy for the first time.”

“That makes sense. Serial killers usually do. I was surprised Roy never had. Or with the previous victims he took some personal item from them, and it hasn’t been discovered yet. But was she still painted?”

“Yes. Yellow, just as the sequence required. That part hadn’t changed.”

“So two murders outside of Atlanta now. That means new jurisdictions that’ll need to coordinate. Mortonville and Fountain Valley. All that bureaucracy will make him harder to catch.”

Logan agreed. “We have no description. None of the vics was seen with anyone prior to their murders. And now he’s started collecting trophies. It doesn’t look good for catching him.”

“Do you think he’s starting to lose control?”

“I have no idea.” He sighed. “How did we start such pleasant dinner conversation?”

Karlyn shrugged. “It’s fascinating to me. It’s my life.”

“As long as you don’t try to write it as true crime. Roy’s been slick enough to avoid the law this long. You don’t want to go up against a clever monster like that.”

“I’ve never delved into true crime before. Right now, I don’t have time to think about it.”

“Have you finished your screenplay?”

Her face lit up. “Yes. Chris gave it a final read and said it passed his litmus test. I’ve sent it to my agent. I also have a manuscript close to completion. I’ll finish that novel before I consider my next project.”

“Chris seemed like a decent guy.”

“He gave me perfect suggestions and let me do most of it on my own. I would kill to work with him again.”

He laughed. “Mom would love to have Warren Newlin visit again. Do you know he stopped by her shop and did free cuts? He invited her to his Atlanta salon. She can’t wait to go and watch him give Jennifer Lawrence or Jennifer Aniston or Jennifer Lopez a trim and blow-dry. She says he’s the It Guy as far as the stars are concerned.”

They moved away from the murders and discussed life in Walton Springs. Karlyn expressed interest in visiting Anne Stockdale’s antiques store, as well as eating at the diner.

“I’ve heard it’s the best food this side of the Mississippi. Of course, I can think of a few New York critics that might differ with that opinion.”

“Nelda would let her food do the talking. Of course, she’s never been bashful about her cooking.”

“She’s your mom’s best friend, right?”

“They’ve been thick as thieves since the sandbox. It’s like having two moms.”

Karlyn pushed her empty plate back. “I’m stuffed.”

“No dessert? Remember, I’m a chocoholic.”

“Maybe after we ride around. We could pull into Dairy Queen for a chocolate sundae or cone.”

“I have a better idea.” He paid the check, and they climbed on the bike again. The evening had turned cool. Logan knew he took a big risk, but this woman had gotten under his skin.

The worst she could do was say no.

The best would be a huge yes.

He tooled down the highway a few minutes and then pulled into a small parking lot. He cut the engine and waited a beat.

“The Cavalier Motel.” Her voice was low. Her arms still locked around him. He could sense the tension scrolling through her.

Logan got off the bike. Lifted her off. Pulled her to him. Heard the hitch in her breath.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since my wife. I’ve never pulled into a no-tell motel on a first date.” He drew her close. “But my blood races every time I’m around you, Karlyn Campbell. You’re all I think about. I want to taste you. Touch every inch of you. But the ball’s in your court.

Dessert—or no dessert? The choice is up to you.”