A Revelation of Death Page 15

  33

  Cici

  What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not? ― Toni Morrison

  * * *

  The call she dreaded came through later that afternoon.

  “Cee,” he said. His word was slowed with fatigue. Maybe more. She feared the more part.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. She gripped the phone tighter as the worry she’d tried to hold at bay spilled from her lips. “You think he knows you’re looking,” she blurted out, the worry overcoming her plan for discretion. She winced.

  “He does know we’re looking, yes. And I think that’s why he’s gone after more women—to prove he can.”

  “Why Sam?”

  One of the beautiful details of knowing someone for so long was you could speak in a kind of shorthand. He knew what Cici was asking—maybe better than Cici knew herself.

  “Because he sent a message and photo attachment from a burner phone last night. A text message. To my cell.”

  Cici’s stomach bottomed out and her ears filled with pressure. She fumbled for her water bottle and took a long drink to remoisten her mouth. “What did it say?”

  Sam hesitated for a moment. Long enough for Cici to realize he wouldn’t tell her the entire truth. And for her to understand whatever the message said, it shook Sam. “Basically to back off.”

  “You won’t,” Cici shot back. “You know as well as I do he won’t stop—”

  “I know. And I know I have to push past the fear tactics and the threats.” He paused, seeming to gather himself. “That’s not what I called about.”

  “You’re at the dam?”

  “You were right. Old Stone Dam. I spotted something once I figured out what you’d seen—the fallen log you mentioned was a good marker. It’s a ponderosa pine.”

  He was babbling. No, worse, he was stalling. He didn’t want to say the words. But she already knew. From the moment he’d mentioned the place that morning, Cici’s dread enveloped her.

  “What did you find?” Cici asked. But she’d already formed the words in her head when he spoke them.

  “We pulled out a body. A young woman.”

  34

  Sam

  ...all power inebriates weak man; and its abuse proves that the more equality there is established among men, the more virtue and happiness will reign in society. ― Mary Wollstonecraft

  * * *

  Sam stood off to the side of the pool as the forensic group worked the area. He waved off the few mosquitoes that managed to survive in this marshy area. Thankfully, most of the state was inhospitable to the pests.

  Even after a quick glance as he’d tugged her out from under the fallen log that her bindings were wrapped around, Sam realized the team wouldn’t find much in the way of forensic evidence. She’d been in the water too long. For four years, he’d bet.

  He stared down at his wet boots, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. Slime and other substances clung to both his thick black waders and the toes of his boots. He wanted to take them off, but he feared he’d need to go back in the water. His throat tightened and he tried to breathe past the emotion ripping up his chest.

  “Oh, no.” Cici’s soft words filtered through the phone. “I hoped…”

  “On three,” Carlos, one of the techs, said.

  With much splashing and cursing, the men heaved the body from the water.

  Sam wanted to turn away, but he didn’t. He tried to keep himself detached and his eye clinical, but he failed.

  She still bore the nylon rope around her wrists—bone, now, bleached from water or sun, Sam wasn’t sure.

  Just as Cici described. Her jeans’ zipper was torn, as was her blouse both in tatters due to the amount of time she’d been submerged. She was more skeletal than human, which was some small mercy—for the techs, not for the woman.

  But she still had some of her hair, which was a mass of mud and slime, and her neck… No marks appeared on her facial bones alone but one of her legs appeared broken.

  All Sam could hope was Cici’s supposition proved correct, and the girl hadn’t been awake for most of the pain inflicted on her.

  That was a sorry hope.

  “So did I,” Sam said, his tone rough with emotion. “I’m pretty sure she’s the girl you dreamed about a couple of nights ago. She matches your description right down to the red platform heels.” One of those shoes lay to the side and he glanced at it. He cleared his throat. “Kelli Ann Vander Keck.”

  “How did you find her?” Cici asked.

  “Search dog. I borrowed one from Matt Turner.”

  Matt was a friend of theirs who worked the K-9 unit for the Santa Fe police department and trained dogs on the side to help in the search efforts for lost hikers.

  “She was partially submerged under a fallen tree limb. My guess is the winds from the storm kicked up and tossed around the debris in the pond. That led us to her.”

  “Smart dog to be able to sniff her out.”

  He didn’t want to tell Cici that Kelli Anne Vender Keck probably wasn’t what the dog smelled. After so long in the water, she wasn’t an easy find. Sam planted his feet more firmly to the ground, expecting a tech to shout about the next victim at any moment.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “How long ago do you think she died?”

  “I’m not an expert on that type of dating,” Sam hedged.

  “Can you send me a photo?”

  “No.” His response was sharp and harsh. He didn’t need to be a forensic expert or a medical examiner to know that this woman suffered severe bodily harm before or even right after her death. No way he’d show the photos to Cici. He softened his tone when he added, “You’re dealing with an awful lot, Cee. And your sister throwing this at you, so quickly…that isn’t cool.”

  “No, it’s not. And I’m not happy about it either.”

  At least she was willing to voice her feelings—and the fact she was overloaded emotionally. She needed to rest and heal—not jump back into another murder investigation mere days after her last near-death experience.

  “But I can’t let more young women die, Sam.”

  Sam bit out a curse. “I know that, too.” He exhaled long and slow and low. He didn’t want to include her, but Cici was his best informant. “Which was why I kind of hoped you’d say you wanted to continue to help, and it makes me a total dick.”

  “No, it makes you a good detective—one who uses all the tools available. Send me the photo. I’ll let you know if it’s Kelli.”

  He hesitated again, not because he planned to send her a photo, but because other concerns flitted through his mind. “If she’s been in there too long, we won’t be able to collect much, if any, DNA.”

  “Do you think that’s why he uses water?” she asked.

  “I can guess so. I mean, it makes sense, so it’s my best working theory. But I’ve yet to truly understand the thoughts of most of the criminals I bring in.”

  Sam ached to hold her, but he couldn’t leave. Raynor might be the detective in charge, but this was Sam’s case—and, now, it was personal.

  The murderer threatened Cici. He’d sent a photo of her standing on the porch of the Urlich house. He’d been outside, watching the house, which caused Sam’s insides to shrivel even as they wanted to unravel.

  He’d taken Cici’s picture, captured the soft curve of her cheek and the pretty pink of her lip. Her scabbed forehead was covered by her wool cap with its jaunty ball on the top—such a happy, frivolous affectation—especially when seen next to the stark, black words he’d written.

  Back off now. Or she’ll disappear forever. After I play. And I play to win.

  Sam’s hand fisted around his phone so hard it cut into his hand, numbing the thick pad of his thumb.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the church office,” Cici said. “The choir’s practicing right now. I’ll stay here until I hear from you.”

  He wanted to pick her up, but he needed
to be honest.

  “It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Then, I’ll drive home.”

  “Call Evan. Have him meet you at the church and drive you home.”

  “Sam.” Cici sighed. “I get that you’re worried—and, to be honest, I am, too. But I can’t mess up Evan’s plans.”

  “He’d drop whatever he’s doing to be there for you.”

  “You’re right, he would, but I’m not going to ask him to back out of the first date since Aci’s death within an hour of its start time. I’ll call you when I leave here, and I’ll be waiting for you at my house.”

  No, that wasn’t good enough. Sam gnashed his teeth. Cici didn’t understand the depth of this man’s depravity—or his cruelty. The pictures he’d sent with the text. Sam gagged. This guy was evil. He might well hate all the women he raped and killed, but there was something sadistic in his photos. Sam didn’t know what to make of the situation.

  Before he could respond with another attempt to put her off, someone shouted and chaos erupted around the edges of the pond. Sam stepped closer, just in time for his worst fear to be confirmed.

  “What’s going on?” Cici asked, her voice high and thin with fear.

  Sam scrubbed his free hand through his hair and over the back of his neck. This was the one the dog wanted. She tugged at the leash before hopping on her back legs.

  “They found another body,” Sam said.

  35

  Cici

  Reserve your right to think, for even to think wrongly is better than not to think at all. ― Hypatia

  When Cici finally got around to telling Sam about the conversation with Lorena, it went as well as she’d expected—that was to say, Sam wasn’t pleased.

  She waited until he was back at her house, well past dark. He’d showered and finished eating their evening meal she’d waited to share with him.

  Cici pushed her meatloaf around her plate. She’d never liked meatloaf. The idea of turning meat into a loaf confused her, but this meal—courtesy of one of Cici’s elderly congregants—was dry and bland.

  Sam ate mechanically, and Cici wondered if he even tasted the food. Based on his preoccupation, she guessed he didn’t.

  “Cee, you need to let me handle these conversations,” he said, exasperation written all over his face as he gripped his fork tightly enough to cause his knuckles to whiten.

  Sam dipped his next bite in some barbecue sauce and shoved it in his mouth. Cici pushed her plate away.

  “Lorena and Marietta attend my church. Lorena was more likely to be honest with me.”

  “You don’t know that. I’m an authority figure. A twenty-one-year-old isn’t going to lie to me.”

  Cici raised her eyebrows. “That particular twenty-one-year-old wouldn’t. She comes from a good family, is working on her degree. There’s no reason for her to lie to me,” Cici said. She shoved at the loaf of beef, her stomach’s contents coagulating into a hard knot. “I’m worried about her.”

  “Marietta? I am, too.” Sam frowned. “You need to eat, Cee.”

  “I need to know what happened to Marietta, Sam. And to Kelli and to Patti and—”

  Sam pulled her up by her elbows and wrapped her in a hug.

  “Do you know when I knew I was in love with you?” he asked.

  “You said it was middle school,” she said against his neck. He was warm and he smelled good. She liked being in his arms, safe and protected.

  He chuckled, and she liked that, too.

  “No, that’s when I fell for you. I knew I loved you when you helped Brian Cormer out in tenth grade—when you went as his date to prom.”

  “His girlfriend broke up with him an hour before. Who dumps a guy right before an important event?”

  “See. You’re kind—thoughtful. You think more about how other people feel than about yourself. That kind of generosity is dazzling.”

  Cici began to scoff, but Sam held her face between his hands. “You’re amazing, and I love you.” He leaned in closer so they were nose-to-nose. “But if you ever butt in on one of my cases again, I will be totally and completely pissed off.”

  She blinked at him, trying to make the two angry Sams return to one. He held her face, not budging an inch. She locked her jaw, ready to dig in just as deep. Then, anxiety flashed deep in his eyes. She caught her breath as the emotion grew and Sam’s lips pressed together, trying to still the tremor building there.

  He was terrified. For her.

  “Fine,” she breathed. And then, because she understood how much it had cost him to let her see his vulnerability, she handed him back his pride. With an eye roll and a tug at his hands, pretending she hadn’t caught that glimpse of just how much he worried over her—needed her.

  “Yes, I understand. Fine.”

  He let go and began cleaning off the table. But his hands shook and she took the plates from him. The fact that he let her, caused her own heart to race and her palms to sweat.

  Was this what it meant to love another? Sure, she’d read the lines—could quote Second Corinthians from memory, thanks to the number of weddings she’d officiated. But was this—this deep-seated need to protect, to care for the fragile soft center of Sam—was this love?

  “Just so you know, thank you. The information from Lorena is helpful. It adds into the information Cooper gave me.”

  She paused in the act of scraping her plate’s contents into the trash. Before she could blink, Rodolfo’s long pink tongue lapped up the chunk of dried meat husk.

  “Then why were you so mad—”

  “Because you feel too much for other people, Cee. And I hate seeing you so upset.”

  Oh.

  Oh. He did manage to break and mend her heart all in those two sentences. She wanted more of this with Sam; until this moment she hadn’t known how much was missing from her life. But now…now she longed for more. For all of him. All the time.

  He tipped his head toward Mona, who stared at Cici with wide, accusatory eyes as Rodolfo licked his smirking lips.

  “Might want to give her some so she doesn’t think you have a favorite.”

  Cici did. “What information from Cooper?”

  “He let us tap into the messages Patti wrote on Dissonance. The other user is gone. Account’s deleted.”

  Cici let her fingers sink into the dog’s soft hair. “That’s ominous.”

  “Tells me one of two things: either the person said or did something Patti didn’t like, which I know to be true because there are messages back from the moderators stating they plan to talk with the guy in question.”

  “Was he named? I mean his username on the dashboard.”

  “Nope. Which is annoying. Would have saved us time. As it is, the laptop is now with OMI, and one of Benson’s team will contact me when they find out more.”

  “That’s good news,” Cici said.

  “Yeah, but it’s not the main problem.”

  Cici raised her eyebrows. “Which is?”

  “He knows we’re looking, so he’s going to be evasive, try to obscure his identity.” Sam’s words fell into the silence of the room, filling the space with an ugly dread.

  “But you think this is the guy who targeted Patti?”

  “It’s looking that way, yes. But I don’t know enough yet to go after him. Except that he drives a light-colored, late eighties Bronco SUV. So, steer clear of those.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” Cici said with a smart salute, but underneath her gentle snark, a deep-seated worry began to take shape.

  Aci said that she’d be freed from…whatever place she was when Cici was safe. Which Cici took to mean Aci didn’t think Cici was currently safe. She’d survived the fall over the side of the mountain, her sister’s killer, the murderer in Taos, Bratva assassins, and now…whatever was going on with this case.

  Sam was a detective—he lived with the inherent risk of an arrest or investigation turning deadly. She hated that Sam continued to pursue a potentially harmful situation, and fe
lt she must take any opportunity to help.

  “I didn’t mention it earlier, but I’m officially working this case now,” Sam said.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter. The dishes were finished and the counters wiped. In here, she’d done all he could for the evening.

  “You already were,” Cici said.

  “I’m doing everything I can to find her, Cici.”

  He meant Marietta, but there was the college girl, Jenny, and others. Some Cici didn’t know about yet. She nodded, but her throat bobbed up and down with emotion and her jaw stayed clamped together.

  Sam sighed. He walked around her and shut an open cupboard door. He pulled her to the sofa and sat her down.

  “We’re calling him the water killer. And my first request is related to SAKI—the acronym stands for sexual assault kit initiative. It was passed in 2015. I’ve asked for the processing of an additional three hundred kits that the greater Albuquerque and Las Cruces, Santa Fe, and Taos areas haven’t yet had tested.”

  36

  Sam

  What is done cannot be undone, but one can prevent it happening again. ― Anne Frank

  * * *

  Cici’s jaw dropped. At least this time, her lip didn’t split.

  “Three hundred?” A glower built and she slapped her hand on the counter. “You’re telling me that three hundred women have been expecting the criminal justice system to find their rapist, and it’s done nothing for them? That’s unconscionable, Sam,” she exclaimed.

  Part of him wouldn’t be surprised if she marched down to the precinct and then into the Round House to ensure justice for the women.

  “Rape isn’t treated like murder or even armed robbery,” Sam said.

  “Well, it damn well should be,” she snapped.

  “I agree.”