Renewed Faith (CSA Case Files 3 / Military Romance) (2 page)

“They’re about to remove the body,” Taggart said as he came to stand next to him. Kevin glanced down at the scuffed black dress shoes, mentally shaking his head in disbelief. There was easily seven inches of snow on the ground and more to come, if the weatherman was to be believed. Taggart’s motion toward the victim brought Kevin’s gaze back to point. The sight was brutal and had him gritting his teeth. “She looks nothing like the previous victim. No physical resemblance at all. That will only make it harder to pinpoint this son of a bitch.”

Taggart Macon was the typical old-fashioned police officer, maintaining a polished image that the public liked to see. One thing in his favor was that he was one of the best damn detectives that the Minneapolis Police Department had on staff. Short on common sense if his shoes were anything to go by, but Kevin knew Taggart had the intelligence to close this case. Unfortunately, the killer kept upping the ante and changing his MO.

“No, but everything else corresponds with the last victim. The way she’s laid out, the ligature marks, and his personal touch.”

Kevin inwardly groaned when he stood up, feeling pain radiate through his bad knee. The pins and plates made it more difficult in that that they didn’t react well to the cold weather. At least he wore his brown military issued boots that kept his feet insulated. Having grown up in the backcountry of Wisconsin on a dairy farm, sound judgment was vital. Regrettably, they needed more than that to solve this case.

The parents of a rape victim had hired Crest Security Agency to find their daughter’s rapist. Kevin was the ideal member of the team to take the case, as he was the one who maintained street credo and was known for keeping his word among that particular element. This case hit a little too close to home, as the second victim was someone he’d known. Unfortunately, the perp escalated in his anger and within three months committed murder. That was back in June and here it was in late December. They still hadn’t caught a break.

“Let’s go grab a cup of coffee and go over what we know,” Kevin suggested, resisting the urge to lean down and rub his knee. “It’s better to pool our resources, and at some point this morning I’m going to have to give an update to my clients. I’d really like to avoid us both looking like some stand up routine.”

“If that’s your way of thanking me for working with you, I’ll take it. I’ll even let you buy me coffee. Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you over at the Caribou in the skyway.”

“Caribou? Seriously?” Kevin shook his head in disgust. He liked his coffee black and preferably with a substantial breakfast. Not some frilly-assed drink laced with sugar and fortified with only a scone. He had to remind himself that Taggart was a city boy through and through. “I’ll be at the Uptown Diner. Ethan and Lach will meet us there. Maybe they can give us an insight to the evidence that we’re missing, because I’m coming up with jack shit.”

“You and the lab both,” Taggart muttered, already walking across the cracked cement. Before reaching one of the crime scene investigative personnel, he turned back around. “Just so you know, you’re messing with my chance to ask a cute barista out to lunch.”

“I’m saving you from yourself,” Kevin called out, his voice echoing off of the steel beams embedded into the ceiling. “Skimmed latte? Really?”

Taggart just laughed as he then entered the fray, already being asked numerous questions from the CSI unit. Civilians would never understand what law enforcement employees went through when dealing with vicious, cruel and brutal scenes like the one in front of them. Humor got most of them through it, while others remained emotionally unattached and treated the victims as if they were pieces on a game board. There was no right or wrong way to do one’s job.

Kevin took one last look at the woman whose lot in life had been carved out from the very beginning of her teenage years. The existence she chose as a prostitute had unfortunately put her into the crosshairs of one sick son of a bitch and now here she was, dead at what he assumed was roughly twenty years of age. If Taggart was able to get a full identification of the victim, Kevin had to wonder how her parents would react. Would they be saddened by their daughter’s death? Or would they not give a shit and carry on with their daily lives as if she’d never existed?

He didn’t relish what Taggart would have to do, as Kevin had to pass this information on to his own clients. There was no doubt this was the same perpetrator. The personal touch that the killer liked to leave was smeared across the victim’s lips. The striking red color against her pale skin looked like one of those Picasso pieces. Knowing it was a generic brand of lipstick didn’t help their cause and they were no closer to catching this scumbag now than they were before.

Kevin finally turned from the horrific sight and continued to cross the floor until he was able to walk through the outer door. The frigid cold that hit him immediately sucked his breath away. The stationed officer, whose cheeks were as ruddy as his lips, nodded his head and prompted Kevin to do the same. Pulling the keys from his jacket, Kevin walked the distance to his black four-wheel drive truck making sure that he didn’t limp. Weakness wasn’t shown. Ever. He kicked his running board, knocking off the remaining snow on his boots before folding his large frame into the driver’s seat.

Once the engine was started, Kevin used the time for the large vehicle to warm up in order to survey the area. He dismissed the patrol cars, the unmarked police cars, and the two forensic vans and concentrated on the city elements. The media had started to descend in various vehicles and other than the two girls huddled together behind the yellow tape; the scene was still quiet due to the hour.

Concentrating on the women, Kevin knew they worked the streets and were Bee’s girls. He’d follow up with them later tonight, as well as their pimp, when they were back on the job and easier to access. He watched one of the detectives working with Taggart walk up to them and start the interview process. The victim wasn’t someone that looked familiar, so he was relatively certain she hadn’t worked for Bee. That didn’t mean these women didn’t know her. What should have been an open and shut case had turned into an elevated crime that was escalating quicker than a combat element descending on a battlefield.

The ringing of Kevin’s cell drew his attention. Reaching into the pocket of his black insulated jacket, he withdrew his phone and saw Ethan’s name on the display. He glanced at the time exhibited on his dashboard and he knew that his friend was waiting for him.

“Hey, grunt, I’m on my way.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Ethan said, his voice a little rough around the edges. Although his tone was naturally deep, it was apparent he was sick. “Lach was just sent to the airport to take that hostage rescue case Crest informed us about yesterday. You know, the hospital volunteer that was taken prisoner by the rebels in Africa?”

“I thought Crest told the victim’s family to call up Red Starr HRT?”

Kevin was referring to the hostage rescue team that worked outside the confines of the federal government run by a biracial woman of Native American and Caucasian descent. She had no need to advertise her business, as word of mouth kept her calendar full. Her reputation preceded her. He never had the pleasure of meeting Catori Starr, but Crest thought highly of her and that was as critical an endorsement as there was.

Before Ethan could respond, movement to Kevin’s right caught his attention. Hash slowly made his way up the street, his back to the wind and snow. He was a low-level drug dealer who usually stayed away from the street girls. He didn’t like the doubled odds of potentially landing his ass in the slammer. Kevin found it interesting that Hash was out at this hour, when he would normally be calling it a night and returning to his rundown apartment in the seedy part of town.

“Apparently, no one can get a hold of Catori Starr.” Ethan coughed hard enough to cause Kevin to wince. “I’m going back to bed for a couple of hours. I’ll see you at the office later.”

“Better yet, don’t,” Kevin said, all the while keeping his attention on Hash as the scrawny male seemed to be comforting the two women. They were all huddled together, unsuccessful in trying to keep the wind at bay. What did they expect to find out? It was sheer stupidity to stand out in this weather unless they had a damn good reason. More coughing from the phone brought his attention back around. “You sound like shit. Crest will kick your ass if you infect the rest of us.”

“I’ll text Jessie.” Ethan went into another coughing fit. Kevin pulled the phone away from his ear until it was over. “If I’m not in the office tomorrow, make sure I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kevin smirked as his friend’s voice became almost non-existent. Ethan wouldn’t be seen for days at this rate. “Just get some sleep, buddy.”

Kevin disconnected the call and watched as the detective who had been questioning the two women turned his attention on Hash. Whatever was said was quick and to the point, for the three walked away shortly thereafter. Kevin shook his head, knowing that the officer had no idea how to speak with someone like Hash. Kevin had no doubt that Taggart would share the interviews and whatever else he had in connection with the case, but it was more the other way around that they would get the answers they sought. Kevin would touch base with Hash tonight. Right now, the snow was starting to fall a little heavier and since Ethan and Lach weren’t meeting him for breakfast, Kevin knew what he had to do. A mixture of unease and anticipation rushed through him. It was an odd combination, but there just the same. Elle Reyes had that affect on him.

Have to take care of something first. Meet me at the Uptown Diner in an hour.

Kevin sent the text to Taggart and then tucked the phone back into his jacket. He’d faced the fact that he would have to contact Elle when he’d first received the call about another murder. It had to be him that let her know that he thought their suspect had struck again. He wouldn’t have it any other way. She wouldn’t take the news well.

It was just over a year ago that Elle had been one of those women on the street. A prostitute. She cared deeply and continued to go to the shelters, seeking ways to help them turn their lives around. Kevin had even caught her talking to one of Bee’s girls on the street a couple of weeks ago. It didn’t go over well when Kevin told her how dangerous it was to return to her old haunts. His attempts at keeping her safe were as discarded as his efforts to get her to smile.

Kevin couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Elle felt responsible for the working girls. She couldn’t save everyone. He should know. It was obvious in her actions that she had unresolved issues from her past life. On one hand, that kept him at a distance. He knew she needed time to heal and he wanted to give her that. On the other, he hoped like hell that she would open up to him soon, needing to help her in any way that he could. It was torture to maintain this void that she’d put into place. Elle had gotten to him in a way that no other woman had.

Kevin wrapped his fingers around the cold leather steering wheel, his determination just as unyielding. That didn’t mean he would get what he wanted, which was Elle in his life. It was a matter of how much patience he had and he prayed that he wouldn’t fuck it all up.

Chapter Two

E
lle groaned in frustration upon hearing the pounding on her door. She squinted one eye at her clock, seeing that it read a little after six in the morning. Everyone that knew her was well aware what her hours were at the club and that her internal schedule was turned around. It didn’t help that she suffered from insomnia as well. When she could fall into a light sleep, she grabbed a hold of it with both hands. When the pounding continued, she mentally threw the counting sheep over the fence and she knew any attempt now would be futile.

“Shit.”

Elle tossed the covers off and grabbed the flannel pajama bottoms that she’d tossed on the floor. Hopping on one foot, she slid her left leg through the soft material and then did the same with her left. She shoved her feet into her pink fuzzy slippers that were a gift to herself for Christmas. The cold hardwood floor was too much to take in the winter. While she liked to sleep in nothing more than panties and a tank top, the temperature she could afford to keep her apartment at was a little too brisk to walk around in them.