The Chilling Spree (11 page)

“Is that the victim’s real hair?”  The
long blond tresses fanned out around Goddard’s head.

“It’s all natural,” she said.  “Natural
hair, natural length, natural color.  Our vic was clearly
committed to his lifestyle as Kylie.”

“Kylie?” Crevan echoed.

“Tattoo across his lumbar spine,” Maya said,
“or in the more common vernacular, our boy has a tramp stamp.”

“With his own name?”

“He’s nineteen years old,” Maya said. 
“By most standards, that’s old enough to consider permanent sexual
reassignment through surgical means. It’s certainly old enough to
receive poorly conceived tattoos.”

I noticed that Crevan seemed to roll into
himself a little bit.  “Why would he want to do that?”

“The tattoo?” Maya asked. “It’s really not
that hard to understand, Crevan.”

I cleared my throat and ignored her
trademark irreverence. “If he identified as female instead of male,
it would be a natural progression for him to transition into that
identity, Crevan,” I said.  “Clearly he was comfortable
appearing as a woman in public.  Maya, did you find any
evidence that he was taking steps toward gender reassignment?”

She shook her head.  “Hormone levels
are as male as your typical horny teenage boy’s.  So I’m
leaning toward less gender identity for him, at least at the time
he died, than maybe a fetish.”

“Do we know if this kid –?”  Crevan
stopped abruptly.

“If he what?” Maya asked.

“Was he gay?”

“I’d go with the affirmative given the other
findings on exam,” she said.  “Like I said, it could’ve been a
matter of role playing for him to dress as the opposite sex, who
knows?  That’s the job for the intrepid police
detectives.”

Crevan nodded.  “Anything else?”

“He seriously bled out, aided mostly by
gravity and the wound track.  I believe that the reason there
wasn’t much blood on the outside of that speaker cover was because
whoever dumped the poor thing into position only removed the weapon
right before he used the speaker to collect the blood.”

“Time of death?” I asked.

“Well, there’s the rub,” she said. 
“Didn’t the guitar tech guy, obnoxious troll that he was, say that
he did his sound check at three yesterday afternoon?”

I nodded.  “He claimed that the
equipment was in perfect working condition.”

“Lie,” she said.  “Big one too. 
Time of death was closer to noon based on lividity and body temp,”
Maya said.  “Which got me thinking about why the blood at the
crime scene looked so fresh.  Hell, it was downright runny
when I got there close to midnight.  Even a large pool of
blood wouldn’t look that fresh for half a day.  Our vic is
certainly tall enough to fit the standard issue size of boys in
Darkwater Bay, but I noticed immediately when everyone but me had
no clue that she was really a he.”

“Well, he was rather convincing as a woman,”
Crevan said.

“Except for the Adam’s apple.  That’s
not what struck me after I peeled off the clothes.  Look at
him.  He lacks muscle definition.  I ran a test for
hormone levels before the Y incision,” she said.  “I figured
he had to be taking female hormones in preparation for gender
reassignment.  He is thin and well, sort of built like a
girl.”

“Could he be an XXY?”

“No, it’s not Klinefelter’s syndrome,” Maya
said.  “His hormone levels were normal, but that blood, and
the absence of bulk in his muscle mass got me thinking.  I did
another test on the blood.  Billy shot some x-rays.  Our
boy had hemophilia type A.  I’m making a wild assumption that
his lack of muscle definition might’ve been owed to an
overprotective mother.”

“She didn’t want Kyle bleeding, so he wasn’t
allowed to engage in normal childhood activities.”  It made as
much sense as anything else I could imagine.  “Some sort of
strange coincidence that he ended up looking feminine and having a
bent toward dressing like a woman.”

Crevan shifted his feet.

Maya frowned.  “What’s going on
here?  I keep reading some weird subtext between the two of
you.  Did you learn something about this boy that I should
know about?”

“It’s not that,” nor was it my secret to
share.  “We live in a land of cavemen for the most part. 
If you’re picking up some weird vibe from us, it’s probably worry
that nobody but a handful of people will be interested in actually
closing this case, Maya.  Briscoe’s going to be
worthless.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Crevan interceded
on behalf of his partner again.  I couldn’t help but worry
that it would come back to haunt him if certain facts became well
known through the course of our investigation.

In general, I don’t walk through life with
much doubt.  At least I didn’t used to feel normal
insecurities.  My impression of Crevan from day one had been
that he was an exceedingly sensitive man, that his job was personal
to him for some reason.  In all of our conversations, I never
got around to asking him why I read that from him so clearly. 
This case was obvious.  It danced close to something he
understood, to a truth he had concealed about himself that might be
exposed in the process of doing the right thing and finding out
what happened to someone whose life should be at its beginning, not
its end.

“And ... she’s gone again,” Maya
chuckled.  She jabbed one elbow into my bony side.  “Did
you solve the case already?”

“Hmm, no.  Did you say something?”

Crevan dangled his phone in front of
me.  “Johnny called.  Something about Pan Demon’s
management company closing ranks and refusing to let any of the
members of the band cooperate with our investigation outside the
presence of legal counsel.”

“Fantastic,” I felt irritation rise in the
form of acrid bile in the back of my throat.  “So it looks
like Dev and I will have no choice but to go back to this stupid
super-fan event tonight.”

Crevan shuffled his feet again.  “Uh,
looks that way.”

“Johnny’s pissed, isn’t he?” 
Men.  What did I have to do to convince any of them that women
simply think and feel differently than they do?  And where the
hell had all of this raging jealousy come from in a man who
literally couldn’t remember specifically what we shared?

Temptation to sneak over to the jail for Bay
County and splatter Mitch Southerby’s brains against a wall for his
role in Johnny’s amnesia tickled the periphery of volitional
action.  I couldn’t turn back time and undo this complication
with Johnny, but it sure as hell would make me feel better to have
a little revenge.

Maybe later.

“What does Orion want to do next?” I
asked. 

“He wants us to get together and compare
notes.  I guess that they did get a hell of a lot of witness
statements from the folks hanging on, hanging out being the little
groupies that they are all day.  No luck finding Goddard’s
parents yet.  Johnny and Tony talked to the neighbors. 
Seems like the Goddard family packs up for some sort of holiday
cruise every year.  They take out the yacht and don’t come
back until after New Year’s.”

“They could conceivably be back in short
order,” I nodded.  “We should get together and try to figure
out how to find them before this story breaks in the press.”

Maya held up one hand.  “We’ve already
been getting calls from the local media about the victim’s
ID.  The only people who have that information are me and
Billy.  I promise you, they will not get his name from
us.”

Crevan’s pace became frantic in speed and
frustration.  “I know Belle.  She won’t let a little
thing like our lack of cooperation stop her.  Helen, we need
to figure out a way to make this notification to Goddard’s parents
before Belle has it splashed all over the front page of the
Sentinel.  I’m pretty sure Johnny has the same concern based
on...”

“Based on what exactly?”

“He called Ned and asked him to go over to
your place and get Devlin.  We’re meeting at OSI’s
headquarters.”

My sixth sense started itching.  If
Johnny wanted all hands on deck, he must’ve uncovered something
else, information that would make him include even the man that had
borne the brunt of some serious anger.  I nodded slowly.

“We should head over there right away. 
Maya, I know you don’t have to stress this to Billy, but I have a
sinking feeling that Johnny needs to hear that an absolute gag
order has been issued out here on this victim.”

“Say no more,” she said.  “I’ll call
you if we get any hits on toxicology.”

One thing was blatantly clear to me the
instant we were ushered into the conference room adjacent to
Johnny’s office at OSI’s headquarters.  The table was round,
but that was in no way indicative of equality for those assembled
around it.  Johnny wasn’t sitting.  Chris, Tony and now
Crevan and I were.

Johnny kept glancing at his watch.  Ned
and Devlin were holding up the game plan.

“Shit,” Briscoe muttered.  “Maybe we
should get started without them, John.”

Chris leapt to Devlin’s defense. 
“We’re gonna need them here if this thing is really moving away
from cooperative witnesses, Tony.  Helen and Devlin already
have an in with these guys.”

“
She
has an in,” Johnny muttered and
almost glared at me.  I didn’t need a roadmap to guide me to
the answer why.

“Regardless, this is a dynamic that Devlin
knows better than any of us,” I said.  “I was only along for
the ride last night.  He knows more about this band and the
best way to get the information than any of us –”  My ringing
cell phone interrupted.  I stared at the screen for a moment
before instant recognition of the number kicked in.

“Eriksson.”

“Helen, it’s Shelly Finkelstein.”

Tension flooded my body.  “Why are you
calling me from the hospital?”  I’d had way too much contact
with Metro State University Hospital in the past six months. 
Seeing that number imbued me with more than unease.

“Helen, there was an accident this
morning.”

“What kind of accident?”  The muttering
dissent around the table muted instantly.

“Ned and Devlin.”

I shot out of my chair.  “I’ll be right
there.”

“Do you know where Chris Darnell is? 
Apparently, he’s Devlin’s next of kin according to our records at
division.”

“He’s here with me right now.  Shelly,
are they all right?”

“No,” her voice cracked.  “Devlin needs
emergency surgery, and Ned…”

I dropped back into the chair. 
“No!”

“Will you ask Chris to call the hospital
right away?  It’s very bad.  They need consent right
away.”

I nodded.

“Helen?”

“Get someone on the phone now,” I
said.  “He can consent over my phone.”

They must’ve been code words that Chris
understood without any kind of explanation.  He pried the
handheld out of my grip and identified himself while I sat
numbly.

Johnny was crouched at my side and I hadn’t
even noticed that he moved.  “Helen, what happened?” he asked
gently.

“An accident.  I don’t know any
details.  Ned and Devlin were…”

“Injured?” Crevan asked.

“Devlin needs emergency surgery.  Ned
is dead.  I – I have to go, Johnny.  I need to be
there.”

Something dark flitted through his eyes, but
he didn’t argue.  “I guess we’ll talk about the case
later.  You and Chris should go right away.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.  “We’ll handle the
investigation.  Don’t worry about it.  I think it’s
pretty clear that neither one of you will be able to keep your
heads in the case right now.  Go.”

It felt more like an indictment than
support.  At the same time, I didn’t have the ability to
dissect it.  My heart pounded with fear and worry that someone
who had quickly become a close friend might be dying.  All the
other loss of important people in my life cascaded through memory –
my father, my very best friend David Levine, Johnny and now
Devlin.  I nodded absently.

Chris handed me the phone.  “Let’s go,
Helen.”  He understood it too, because I think in many ways,
Chris, Ned and I were the only people that knew Devlin very well at
all, and now Ned was gone.

My heart cracked.  Every memory of the
case we worked together flitted through memory, our silly Christmas
with convenience store gifts.  Ned gently nudging me to move
forward with my life regardless of whether Johnny wanted to
remember me or not.  The cagey bastard – had he realized that
watching me move on would spark Johnny’s insane and possessive
jealousy? 

He probably did.  Tears welled and
spilled like hot lava down my cheeks.  Johnny cursed softly
and looked away.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I rasped. 
“He was such a good cop, a great man.”

Eyes snapped into focus on me again. 
“Ned?”

I nodded.  “Why did this happen?”

One calloused thumb brushed away a
tear.  “I don’t know, Doc.  If it was something other
than an accident, we’ll get to the bottom of it.  I
promise.”

“You’ve already got a major headache to deal
with at the amphitheater.”

“Helen, I want to get to the hospital,”
Chris said.  “Are you all right to drive?”

“No idea,” I whispered.

Johnny rose and gently tugged me out of the
chair that supported me.  “Go with Chris.  I’ll come over
as soon as we figure out where to go from here and see how you’re
doing.  You’ve got to have faith that this’ll work out,
Helen.”

Southerby really had rebooted Johnny’s
memory if he thought faith would offer any solace to me.  I
felt nothing but mind numbing worry when an arm slipped around my
waist.  Johnny led me out of the conference room before
handing me off to Darnell.

“Let me know if you need anything,
Chris.”