The Heart of a Killer

  "Did you at any time have cause to look out the window here?"

  Margaret looked at Larry, then shook her head. "No, we pretty much stayed at the table the entire time."

  "We have a deadline," Larry added after watching Margaret while she spoke. "We didn't leave the conference room."

  "It was a late night and we had a lot of paperwork to do," Margaret said.

  "You didn't hear anything unusual outside?" Anna asked.

  "No. We were wrapped up in...the case," Margaret said, her nervous gaze darting to Larry. "We didn't hear a thing. Until the sirens, of course."

  Larry offered a serious look. "We're very focused. A bomb could go off and we wouldn't have heard it. We didn't leave our chairs, until as Margaret said, we heard the police arrive."

  "We went downstairs then to see what was going on," Margaret said, "but they wouldn't let us pass because they already had the police tape up."

  "At that point we figured we should get out of everyone's way, plus we had to be here early this morning, so we wrapped things up and headed out," Larry added.

  "What time was that?" Anna asked.

  "Around two," Larry said.

  Anna remained silent, wondering if either would add anything.

  Larry looked from Margaret to their boss. "We have the paperwork prepared if you'd like to check it all over."

  Macy waved his hand. "Unnecessary."

  "How long were you in this room?" Anna asked. "Hours."

  "Most of the night," Margaret said, her gaze once again flitting to Larry before coming back to Anna and Roman. "From the time the office closed until we left. We ordered takeout to be delivered. I think...Larry, you have the receipts for that?"

  "I do."

  "Motions had to be filed this morning," Margaret said. "So we stayed and worked through the night until we were finished."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Detectives," Mr. Macy said, "I'm sure you can tell my associates didn't see or hear anything."

  They were getting nowhere. Anna pulled her card. "Please do your best to try to remember everything from last night. Even the smallest detail could be of use. An unusual sound, anything that seemed out of the ordinary or may have caught your attention, even if it was for only a few seconds. If you got up to glance out the window and you saw anything that springs to mind, give me a call."

  "They certainly will, Detective," Macy said, sliding her card across the table and slipping it into his coat pocket.

  She thanked them and they left the office.

  As soon as they hit the elevator and the door closed, Anna turned to Roman.

  "Working on briefs, my ass. Maybe she was in his briefs."

  "Agreed," Roman said. "The only thing they saw in that conference room was each other. The killer could have hung a body outside the window and they wouldn't have noticed."

  Anna wrinkled her nose. Crude, but accurate as far as the witnesses. "Yeah, pretty useless. The two of them were skirting glances back and forth like crazy. I think they were more afraid of the boss finding out they'd been boinking all night instead of working."

  The corporate dude on the other floor was a bust, too. His office fronted the street instead of the alley. He'd only worked until about eleven, had parked on the street side and he hadn't seen or heard a thing.

  Useless. They were due for a break, and soon.

  Thirteen

  Dante was parked in front when Anna drove past the precinct, so she parked on the street and walked up toward him.

  He leaned against his car, arms crossed, his expression unfathomable behind his mirrored shades. Did he have to look so impossibly sexy in his worn jeans and tight T-shirt?

  Women passing by on the street paused, looked over their shoulders and ogled. And why wouldn't they? He was gorgeous. Well worth a second look. Even a third.

  She wanted to kick them for ogling, which was ludicrous. He wasn't hers. She had no claim on him. She didn't know what pissed her off more--the women staring or her irritation over it.

  He seemed to be oblivious to the stares he got, his attention fully on her.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, deciding to ignore his rock-god status from the sidewalk groupies mentally dragging their tongues over him.

  "Figured you'd show up here eventually." He pushed off the car and came toward her.

  "I'm surprised you didn't use your supercomputer to figure out my whereabouts."

  "I could have, but no point. You were with Roman."

  "How did you know that?"

  "I called him when I woke up and saw you weren't there. He told me you were meeting him."

  "Smart-ass," she said, starting up the steps. "You talk to my captain yet?"

  "As a matter of fact, we had donuts and coffee together this morning."

  She stopped, pivoted on the steps to face him. "You did not."

  The corners of his mouth lifted. "Did, too. He likes me. Actually, he really likes me since I brought him donuts."

  Captain Pohanski was a dick. He didn't like anyone. He didn't appreciate his precinct messed with. And he especially didn't like the FBI, who he often referred to as a bunch of inept, interfering ass wipes.

  "I can guarantee Pohanski doesn't like you."

  "If you say so." He waited for her to turn and go inside.

  "You're bullshitting me."

  He dragged his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and gave her a look with those baby blues of his that melted her to the steps.

  "You going in or not?" he asked.

  She turned and went inside, grateful the air-conditioning was in prime working order today. Between the heat, the way he looked and those steamy looks he was giving her, she was hot. Plenty hot.

  "Pallino."

  She cringed at the sound of Captain Pohanski's bellow. "Yes, sir."

  "Get in here."

  She lifted her gaze to Dante's, who took a seat at the chair next to her desk and stretched out his legs. "I'll just wait here."

  "You do that."

  She took a slow walk toward the captain's office.

  Pohanski was a short round Pillsbury Doughboy of a man, with a ruddy complexion and jowls. His shifty, narrow eyes made him look more like a criminal than a cop. He was also a damn fine police officer who knew his shit. He had thirty years of perfect service under his belt and ran his precinct loosely, preferring to let his cops do their jobs rather than keeping his thumb on top of them. But you never, ever wanted to be called into his office, because if you got caught on his radar, you got an ass chewing you never forgot.

  What the hell had Dante gone and done?

  "Shut the door." Oh, hell.

  She did, and moved in front of his desk, which looked as if it had been burglarized. There were crumpled notes, Post-its everywhere--Pohanski didn't believe in technology--pencils, two empty coffee cups, a mountain of files, one dusty desktop computer that wasn't turned on and about fifteen note pads.

  "This murder investigation you're working? The two dead in the alley?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "A real clusterfuck."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Could be a serial."

  "It's looking that way."

  "Any particular reason you haven't filled me in about it lately?"

  "I was on my way to do that when you called me in, sir."

  "Uh-huh." He tapped the pencil on the quarter of an inch of desktop that was visible. "So this Dante Renaldi, the FBI agent that's insinuated himself into the case."

  "Yes, sir. About that..."

  "Sharp sonofabitch. I'm a little pissed off about the government bureaucracy and the fact that he's pushed himself onto this case, but he explained about George Clemons and Jeff Barrone and his relationship to them. In his shoes, I'd do the same thing. I hate the FBI and all their bullshit, but I like him."

  Anna's fumbling excuses for Dante got caught at the back of her throat. "Sir?"

  "Keep him close to you."

  Pohanski looked down and started scrib
bling notes onto one of his pads.

  That was it?

  "Uh, I'll do that. Thanks."

  She turned to make a hasty exit.

  "Pallino?"

  She pivoted to face him. "Sir?"

  "What's with the roses and note to you?"

  "Killer's trying to piss me off."

  "Is it working?"

  "It is."

  "Keep me informed. The media's going to get their teeth into this case. I'm going to have the higher-ups crawling so far up my ass I'll have my teeth cleaned. Get it solved and soon."

  "Yes, sir."

  Before he found something else to grill her about, she turned and got the hell out of there, shutting the door behind her. She headed back to her desk where Dante was still sitting, a smug smile on his face. She slid into her chair and gave him an evil glare.

  "What did you do to my captain? Drug him with the donuts?"

  "I have a way with people."

  She rolled her eyes at him. "No one has a way with Pohanski."

  Dante arched a brow. "A smooth talker like you can't wrap him around your pretty little finger? Come on."

  "Screw you." She booted up her desktop and started entering information on the case.

  "So what did he say?"

  Like she'd tell him. "He just wanted an update on the case."

  "Uh-huh. He likes me, doesn't he?"

  "He thinks you're going to be a hindrance to this case and I should keep you as far away from it as possible."

  Dante laughed. "Liar."

  She shifted her gaze to him. "Okay, fine. He did like you. He wants me to stick to you like glue. What the hell did you tell him?"

  "Bullshit, mostly. But all the right kinds of bullshit. In my line of work I've had to schmooze every type. I know how to work people to get what I want."

  She leaned back in her chair. "Is that what you've been doing to me? Working me?"

  "You know better than that. You know me better than that, and don't give me that crap about you not knowing me. You of all people know me better than anyone."

  She wanted to say she didn't know him at all. There were parts of his past she didn't know, but she was learning more every day. And she wanted to find out more--about where he'd been, what he'd been doing, what he'd been through all these years, and how all that had shaped him into who he was now.

  Mostly she wanted not to care about him at all.

  The problem was, she did care, and that pissed her off more than anything. She'd spent years building this great wall of I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anybody. She kept watch over her guys because she owed them, but she didn't love anyone. When you loved someone, they could hurt you. They could leave you.

  She'd been really successful at keeping her heart under wraps all these years. Her job had helped with that, keeping her busy enough that she didn't notice the loneliness. The panic attacks and memories of that night kept her from getting close to anyone. She guarded herself well.

  Until Dante came back. Until this case reminded her she hadn't been alone all these years. That she did have people she loved.

  People she loved that she could lose.

  And now it was like twelve years ago--her and all the guys again.

  Only now they were one guy short. Jeff was dead. Someone hunted them all. Someone wanted them all dead.

  "Hey, Anna?"

  She lifted her head to see Roman coming into the squad room. "Yeah?"

  "You need to come outside and see this."

  Puzzled, she and Dante headed out the front door, the same way they'd come in.

  Roman inclined his head down the street where her car was parked.

  Her heart stumbled when she saw the single rose and the card attached to the windshield wiper of her car.

  "Goddammit." Dante pushed past her toward her car with his long, lean strides. She and Roman hustled to keep up with him.

  "I saw it when I was driving up," Roman said. "I pulled in behind your car and already called for a forensics team."

  She nodded, but her focus was on Dante. He was pissed. She'd never seen him so angry--not since that night twelve years ago.

  He pivoted in a three hundred sixty degree circle, hand on the butt of his gun as if he could spot the killer on this busy street.

  "He's not here, Dante."

  He shot her a glare. "You sure about that? It's downtown, cars buzzing by, sidewalks crowded with people. He could be right goddamn here right now watching you. You need to go inside."

  Her dander up, she went toe-to-toe with him. "Don't tell me how to do my job."

  He got closer to her. "And don't be so hardheaded about this that you end up dead."

  Equally as furious with Dante and the killer, she pivoted, leaned over her car and examined the bloodred rose and white card tied to it with a red ribbon.

  "Ballsy fucker, isn't he?" Roman said.

  "He's pissing me the hell off." Anna wanted to tear him apart. And she wanted to read that goddamn card. "Where's CSU?"

  "It's going to take them a few minutes, honey. Let me get my kit." Roman went to his trunk and popped it open, grabbed a few pairs of gloves and tweezers from his kit.

  "We need photographs first," Anna said, gloving up and grabbing Roman's camera. She took a step back and shot some photos from a distance, then took a photo of her car in relation to the police station. Once she got the pictures, she nodded to Roman who had the tweezers in his hand.

  "Envelope isn't sealed." He deftly pulled the card out of the envelope enough for them to read it.

  Number two, Anna. Did I kill him good enough for you?

  She jumped back as if she'd been burned. Angry tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to let him get to her. "Not for me, you son of a bitch. Never for me."

  "He's playing you," Dante said. "He's trying to upset you."

  "You know what? It's working. I am upset. He's playing this game and killing people I care about. People you care about. And he's doing it for me? I don't fucking think so. He's doing it for himself. For whatever his agenda is. And he's trying to lay it on me. That's bullshit."

  "Pohanski is coming out," Roman said.

  Anna whirled, then groaned. "Great. Just fucking great."

  Her captain came over just as the CSU team arrived. "What the hell is this?" he asked as he leaned over her car. "More love notes?"

  "It would seem so."

  "Fucking hell." Pohanski smoothed his hand over his bald head. "You light a fire under CSU and get this wrapped up in a hurry."

  "I'll do that, sir."

  Pohanski stormed off. She instructed the CSU team to pull the flower and card, dust her car for prints and get the hell out of there. She put a couple uniforms on crowd control, and she, Dante and Roman headed back inside.

  "I can't even believe he put that on my car outside the police station."

  Dante slid into the chair next to Anna's desk. "When you think about it, it's a great idea."

  Anna's brows shot up. "Yeah? Explain it to me."

  "Cops going in and out. Busy street with heavy traffic downtown, people not paying attention. Easy to get lost in a crowd and no one expects anyone to do anything out of the ordinary right outside a precinct station."

  "He has a point," Roman said. "Hiding in plain sight. We've seen that plenty of times on cases."

  Anna laid her head in her hands. This case had just gone from bad to worse.

  Roman stood. "I'm going to head over to the lab and light a fire under Forensics' ass. We need tox results on Jeff, the results of those drugs both Jeff and George were found with. And now we have this."

  Anna nodded. "Thanks, Roman."

  Her phone buzzed. She pulled it and looked at the display.

  "Oh, no."

  "What?" Dante asked.

  "It's Gabe. We never got around to telling Gabe." She watched the phone buzz until the call went to voice mail. If she had to tell one more person about Jeff she wasn't going to make it.

  "I'll take care
of it."

  She met his gaze. "I can do it."

  "You go check out the autopsy. See if they find anything."

  She nodded. Neither task was going to be a pleasant one. She stood and so did Dante. "I'll do that, thanks."

  He moved to leave.

  "Dante?"

  "Yeah."

  "About outside?"

  He looked around the squad room, then smiled and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. "Just tension, Anna. Don't worry about it."

  She relaxed. "Thanks."

  She knew she couldn't face the autopsy. There was no way she could stand over Jeff's body and watch them take him apart piece by piece as if Jeff hadn't been a live person a day ago. She might be a coward, but she'd rather hear about what they found rather than see it for herself.

  She dragged her heels heading over to the M.E.'s office, then finally went inside. They told her the autopsy was in progress, so she stalled for time, called Roman who was cooling his heels at the lab with nothing to report. She headed out to her car to finish up some paperwork. By the time she came back inside, it was over.

  "You missed it," Richard Norton said as he dried off his hands.

  Perfect timing. Jeff's body had already been returned to the refrigerated compartment, so she wouldn't have to look at him, wouldn't have to face him--or her own failure at catching whoever was doing this.

  "I got tied up. What did you find?"

  She followed Richard to his office. "Whoever did this had a much better time wailing on this guy than he did the one before. He was beaten more severely, especially around his face. Relatives wouldn't have been able to recognize him if they'd been looking at him."

  She knew. She hadn't known it was him at first. But the image of Jeff's bloody, beaten face would remain with her forever.

  More nightmares to look forward to.

  "Cause of death was skull fracture and corresponding brain bleed. If you'd been to the autopsy, I could have showed you."

  She was glad she'd missed it.

  "Plus his airway was swollen from being choked, his nose broken, ten ribs fractured, his lungs bruised..."

  Anna had to buck up and listen to Richard go over the autopsy results as if Jeff were just another victim, instead of someone she'd known almost half her life. If she let it get too personal, Pohanski would pull her from the case. She could only hope that Jeff had been unconscious for most of it, that he'd fallen blissfully under and had died without knowing a lot of the pain.

  That's how she was going to think of it, anyway.

  "Did you pull anything off the body? Prints, fibers, anything of note?"

  "Prints, no. Pulled a few fibers from his skin and clothing. Those could have likely come from his house, or they could have come from the killer. Sent those off to the lab to be tested. He had marks all over him, obviously, from being beaten, but your suspect must be using thick gloves when he beats them and only the tip of a shoe for the kicking. We have no shoe imprints on the body, no fingerprints. He's as clean as the first guy. Once we washed all the blood off, we found bruises, scrapes and cuts. He had a deep gash on his head. Your killer took the victim's head and pounded it on the floor of the alley. Brain swelled up like a watermelon and filled with blood. Your vic didn't have a chance. Like I said earlier, this kill was much more vicious than the last one."