Serial (2 page)

It was sensationalistic, if nothing else. The killer knew how to manipulate the media and get his work out there for the city, probably the world, to see. Isaac couldn’t bring himself to flip to a cable news network to see if the murders had found their way there. It was enough to know the killer had brought El Paso to the edge of its seat in just one night. He’d pretty much wiped the Ripper out of public consciousness with only two amateurish corpses to his credit.

Isaac stretched and leaned forward on the couch, running his hand across the leather case on the table to wipe away the beer he’d spilled on it. He peeled the case open and smiled at the pleasing familiarity the action awoke. His irritation with the captain’s decision faded to a dull whine in the back of his skull as the shimmer of the knives drew his eyes. He pulled one out and admired the silver blade that reflected the living room light from its razored edge. The handle fit his hand perfectly. He sliced the air a couple of times and slid the knife back into place with careful reverence. Isaac folded the case over, hiding the knives away, and stood. He left the case on the table and headed for the door.

“We’ll see who the news is talking about tomorrow.”

Chapter Four

The forty-five minute drive to Las Cruces was a quiet one. Isaac left the radio off and drove in silence. Aside from the big trucks and service vehicles, the highway was largely deserted. He guessed the killer’s message had spooked the neighboring region, just as it had El Paso. Isaac grinned.
Just wait until I’m done.

He glanced over at the small drink cooler nestled in the floorboard of the passenger seat and ran through his mental checklist. Being OCD was a plus in his line of work. It always paid to obsess over the details, making sure nothing slipped past. The department had driven that point home.

Isaac wheeled his late-model Toyota sedan through the heart of the city. He watched the flickers of nightlife wander by. The windows of the sedan were tinted, so it was easy to observe without being identified. He’d kept the tint just below the legal limits to keep from being pulled over, yet dark enough to obscure any hope of recognition of who sat inside. The Toyota was also as plain as they came, gray with stock rims, the plates up to date and registered to someone else. While the car might be seen, it would never draw attention or lead back to Isaac. He felt safe inside.

Though the main streets of Cruces seemed a ghost town, Isaac knew where to find life. He got off the freeway at University and cruised down toward the college. Several strip malls packed with restaurants, bars and skin joints were located just a few minutes away from the campus. As Isaac turned onto the block, leaving the austere school buried in the darkness behind, he saw what he was looking for. The sidewalks were heavy with pedestrian traffic. Students, and quite likely professors, made their way down the strip from one bar to another, looking for scenery conducive to whatever their particular pleasure was that evening, be it fucking or fighting. The block was a meat market in the purest sense of the term.

After a couple trips up and down the street to see if he spotted any of his fellow officers about, Isaac wheeled into a wide alley between a couple of low-rise buildings at the end of the entertainment area. He wedged his car into a tiny parking space near the back, shut it off and waited.

While he sat there, quite a few college students stumbled through the lot at various times in search of their cars. Most had come in groups, piling into overloaded vehicles and driving away in a manner that guaranteed the Las Cruces police would be contacting parents to tell them their child was dead or in jail. Isaac just watched them leave. They weren’t for him.

After nearly two hours, the lot dangerously close to being empty, a young woman appeared around the corner and made her way toward a battered, old Mustang. She fumbled with her keys as she walked, bumping into the wall and nearly tripping on a curb as she drew closer to where Isaac waited. He watched her as she went to the Mustang and did her best to put the key in the lock.

Isaac stepped out behind her. “You all right?”

She started and dropped her keys, spinning around to press her back against her car. Her eyes were wide circles of white, her hands trembling before her.

“Relax,” he told her as he kept his distance, brandishing his badge. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t want to see you try to drive in the condition you’re in.”

The young woman went stiff and stared at the badge. He knew she couldn’t read it from where she stood, but he held it aloft all the same. “Is there someone you can call to give you a ride home?”

“Uh,” she sputtered, apparently trying to think, before settling for a shake of her head.

“How about a cab? Can you afford that? I really don’t want to have to take you to jail.”

“No, I, uh—” her eyes darted around as if looking for a place to hide.

“Hey, it’s cool. I know how it is being young and broke. How about I give you a ride home? You can come back and pick up your car tomorrow. I’ll call the station and have them circle the area tonight and keep an eye on it.” He stepped a few feet closer, the badge still out where she could see it. He kept his fingers over the part that identified him as being from El Paso.

She did her best to focus, but it was clear she was too far gone to do anything more than pretend she had confirmed its authenticity. Her eyes rose from the badge to Isaac’s face. “I live, like, way…way on the other side of town.”

“That’s fine. I’m off in about ten minutes anyway. This just gives me an excuse to beg off early.”

She stared at Isaac for a moment, and finally nodded. “Yeah, sure. Cool.” She started toward the car.

“Don’t forget your keys.” He pointed to the colorful jumble that lay on the ground beside her car door. She giggled and snatched them up, almost falling over as she bent for them. Righting herself against her car, the woman clutched her keychain and wandered over to where Isaac held the passenger door of his car open. She slopped down inside, bouncing the car on its shocks as he shut the door.

Isaac went around to the other side. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye and snapped his head around to look. There was nothing but the wall and an old fire escape ladder hanging above the ground. He shook his head, angry the new killer had him jumping at shadows, and slid into the driver’s seat.

His keys still in the ignition, he started the car up, turning to glance at the woman. “Buckle up,” he said as he shifted into gear. She battled with the seat belt for a second, rolling her eyes at him. Isaac waited until he heard the latch
click
before he pulled out of the driveway. He drove slowly and casually, doing nothing to draw attention.

“You have a name?”

“Karen,” she answered, doing her best to adjust her legs to keep from bumping into the cooler at her feet.

Isaac gestured to the cooler. “I was preparing for having the next few nights off. You want an ice-cold beer?”

She turned in the seat to stare at him. “But you’re a cop.”

He looked at his watch and laughed. “Only for another five minutes, and I won’t be drinking until I get home. Besides, it’s not like anyone can see you through the tinted windows, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

Karen appeared to ponder a short moment before she reached down and peeled the lid off the cooler. A six-pack of Guinness cans sat chilling inside. She grinned and pulled one out, the ice crackling as it filled in the open space. Popping the top, she took a sip and sighed, drying her free hand on her jeans.

“You have good taste in beer,
for a cop
.” She swallowed another mouthful, a tiny trickle leaking from the corner of her mouth.

“Were you expecting Coors Light?”

Karen choked and pulled the can away, chuckling. “Yeah, something like that.” She took another sip and Isaac motioned to the cup holder set between the seats. Karen downed a little more and reluctantly set the can down.

“I’ll give you a couple for the road, once I get you home, but I don’t want to have to carry you inside. How would that look to the neighbors?”

She glanced over at Isaac, her smile turning subtle. Her eyes ran the length of him and settled at his crotch as though she was contemplating giving the neighbors something else to gossip about.

Isaac grinned, but kept his eyes on the road. “I’m not going to have some brute of a boyfriend trying to kick my ass, am I?”

She shook her head and snatched up the beer again. After a long drink, she set the can between her legs and let out a quiet sigh. “None that cares, so no worries.”

Even from his peripheral vision, he could see her eyes wavering. Isaac reached over and pulled the can loose from her legs, letting his palm rub her thigh as he did. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sucked in her bottom lip. She was ready.

It just wasn’t for what she was expecting.

He set the can in the holder as he drove past Karen’s exit just as she peeled her eyelids open. She looked at the green highway sign as it slipped by and raised a limp finger to point at it, her tongue thick in her mouth.

Isaac patted her on the leg. “It’s okay, Karen,” he told her as he continued on, casting a glance at her. She tried to nod, something deep inside her still trying to be compliant, but she didn’t have the strength. Her head lolled to her chest and she sank into the seat, held upright by the belt.

To the soundtrack of her quiet exhalations, Isaac made his way back to El Paso. The clock on the dashboard shined a bright
3:30
. He was cutting it close, but he could make it work.

Come morning, no one would be thinking about the upstart murderer.

Chapter Five

Isaac leapt from bed at the trill of his alarm clock. He slapped it to silence and dashed into the shower. Perspiration still clung to the curtain from when he’d showered only hours before, but it always paid to be clean. He smiled as he recalled his morning’s activities before he’d crawled into bed for a mere two hours of sleep. It had been glorious, though a bit rushed, but the best was yet to come.

Out the door, smelling of Irish Spring, he hopped in his Charger, leaving the Toyota in the garage, and headed to the station. He’d foregone his morning ritual of watching the news, partly out of running late to work, and partly out of concern that the local report would once again spoil his high. He even took the back route to work, avoiding the congestion of the highway to eliminate frustrations.

A smile split his cheeks as he rounded the corner onto Raynor Street, pulling into the station’s parking lot. A number of media vans were parked haphazardly around the side entrance, cameras and crews clustered by the door and clambering for attention. Isaac could hear their raised voices as he passed, on his way into the secure lot.
Busy little bees.

He parked and went inside, the furor of activity outside mirroring the tension in the station. He walked by the breakroom to see a wall of uniformed officers and detectives alike staring at the television mounted on the wall. The news spewed tersely from a pale-faced reporter, the intersection of Montana and US 54 pictured prominently behind him, before the whole scene flickered to the side entrance and the placid face of Adrian Sifuentes, the department’s PR guy.

Captain Garcia strode by and swept Isaac up by his arm, pulling him away from the crowd before he could hear what was being announced. The captain stayed quiet until they were in his office, the door slammed shut behind them. His eyes glimmered.

“The Ripper struck again,” Garcia said as he dropped into his chair, not bothering to wave Isaac to a seat. “That crazy son of a bitch must be pissed to dump a body so close to us, not thirteen fucking blocks from here.”

Isaac sat and shook his head. “That’s not his MO, Cap. You sure it was him?”

Garcia shrugged. “While the preliminaries aren’t in, the girl had her tongue split like a fucking snake, same as always. Pretty little thing too.” The captain yanked the top drawer of his desk open and pulled out a bottle of Pepto. After a big swig, he slammed it onto the desk, pink bubbles welling up at the opening. “He strung her up by her entrails, right the fuck over the highway for the whole world to see.”

Isaac sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Mendes on it?”

“Yeah, yeah, but I didn’t bring you in here to put you back on the case. I need you to bust ass on our latest malcontent. He’s stirring the Ripper up something fierce.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because the sick fuck shoved a toothpick through the girl’s nipple, that’s why. If that’s not a message, Grant, I don’t know what the hell is.”

Isaac nodded, his face whitewashed with neutrality. The killer inside smiled.
It was that, and so much more.
“He’s also never dropped two bodies this close together, so maybe you’re right.” Isaac sighed. “I’m on it, but the new guy isn’t as brazen as he seems. Minus the defensive wounds on the first, I believe there’s a measure of premeditation involved. He isn’t just hacking folks up for the fun of it. There’s more to it—a rhythm, a pattern of some kind that isn’t apparent, especially with the toothpicks.”

“I don’t care what you have to do to figure it out. Just make it quick. I’ve got the chief’s approval to burn overtime and open up assets to you, as needed, but he’s going to want results for the money he’s spending. Shut this toothpick motherfucker down so we can focus on the Ripper. We can’t afford a serial killer pissing match, with all that’s going on in Juarez right now. The feds are just looking for an excuse to cut in and screw us out of our funding.”