A Dream of Death (9 page)

Kara wanted to handle the interrogation and I was more than
happy to give her the chance to do so. As much as I loved making people sweat,
and slowly getting a confession out of them, watching Kara in action was a
thing of beauty. The Sergeant in cells, Jack Kristoff, was familiar with Kara’s
near-legendary ability and it wasn’t long before he and I each had fifty
dollars on the table. I gave Kara thirty minutes to crack Morris, he gave her
only twenty.

Morris’s clothes had been seized once he arrived in cells so
that they could be tested for DNA evidence. The next step was convincing him to
give a DNA sample. It was something Kara could hopefully take care of in the
interview.

I sat in the viewing room, watched the interview room on
closed circuit cameras and prepared to listen to the interrogation.

A moment later the interview room door opened and Morris
walked in, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, followed close behind by Kara.
Morris’s handcuffs had been removed. He was in secure custody now and had
calmed down significantly. If he was a threat, the cuffs would go back on
before he even knew what was happening.

“Morris White, my name is Kara Jameson. I’m a Detective with
the OPP homicide unit.”

Morris nodded.

“Everything in this room is subject to audio and video
recording. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been afforded the opportunity to speak to a lawyer,
is that right?”

“Yeah, I talked to him.”

“Good. I’m just going to review your rights again, okay?”

A grunt.

Kara read the rights and caution again along with a
secondary caution, basically stating that if Morris had talked to anyone else
in authority that it was not to influence him into making a statement. That way
if the transport officer had told him he’d better talk or else, we were covered
off.

“Right. I understand.”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to know who I’m speaking with. I want to
understand how we could have gotten to this position. You’ve said you’re
innocent, I want to believe you.”

“Okay. Umm, I’m forty-nine. I work in London at a high
school as a night janitor. Been doing it for over twenty years. My wife worked
at London Life, a secretary.”

Worked. Past tense.

“We’ve got no kids, tried but it wasn’t in the cards for us.
So we travel instead, as much as we can. She likes to relax on a beach, I like
to fish. I don’t know, not much else. We’re pretty simple people.”

“How was work last night?”

“About regular. Got there at ten, worked until six. Not much
going on at the school, just the usual cleaning. When I came home I found
Brenda dead.”

“Tell me about that.”

“She sleeps light. I snore so I stay up for a bit when I get
home, until she gets up so I don’t bother her. Today I was really tired though,
so I went up to get into bed. The light was on and the covers were back and she
was… dead.”

He was getting upset, wiping at tears I couldn’t see.

“I saw the cord beside her and I knew it was The Strangler.
I seen him in the papers and on the news. Said he strangles women when their
husbands are at work.”

‘Seen’. One of my biggest pet peeves. It’s not about what
you seen, it’s about what you
saw
.

“What happened to your hands?”

“Oh,” he said as he looked down. “That? Um, I was tying some
things down with rope at work. Must have been tying too tight.”

“What kind of rope?”

“Kind? The thick stuff, triple-braid.”

He answered the question honestly. Triple-braid was likely
the type of rope he used at work. It just wasn’t what he’d used last night.

“Doesn’t look like it was from triple-braid.”

“It was, I had gloves on so maybe that makes it look
different.”

“Look, Morris. Time to level with me.”

She was going for the kill already. I was about to lose my
bet.

“Okay,” she said. “You look like a smart guy, probably like
to watch CSI?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“So you know what we can do, right?”

He looked away from Kara, put his hands on his knees to try
to stop them from bouncing.

“I guess, yeah.”

“I bet those bruises are a perfect match to the cord found
on your bed. I bet your DNA is all over that cord.”

Morris was crying hard now, fear not sorrow. His nose was
starting to run and I could hear him sniffling.

“What I want to know is, how did you know how to stage the
murder so perfectly?”

“What?”

He wiped at his nose then wiped the back of the hand on his
jumpsuit.

“You killed your wife, Morris. It’s obvious to me, and it
was obvious to my partner. Maybe she nagged you one too many times, maybe it
was the hoarding, I’m guessing it was her stuff. Or maybe you just wanted to
get rid of her, collect the insurance and move on.”

Silence.

Kara’s voice was rising, almost to a yell.

“Is that it? Insurance money? She worked at London Life,
right, so she probably had a decent plan. Some money from work as well? You’re
probably looking at a cool half a mil, maybe even more. What about the
mortgage, will that be paid off too? I’m sure you thought about that. Car
loans, line of credit, anything else? You kill your wife, strangle the fucking
life out of her just to cash in on some coin? What did you think when the life
was draining out of her, when she struggled? Did you like it? Or was it just
business?”

And all he did was shake his head.

“You don’t seem like a serial killer to me, maybe the kind
of guy who kills his wife, but not a serial killer. I’ve seen some serious shit
in my days, a woman stabbed over thirty times, another one burned to death, one
that her asshole husband threw acid on, burned away her face.”

Morris cringed.

“This is nothing like that. You’re not a bad guy, things
just got a little hard, right? But right now, I look at your wife’s murder and
the other four, and well, it doesn’t take a genius.”

Almost all was fair in interrogations. We could lie, we
could suggest evidence but never lie about it. If we had a surveillance tape
that we hadn’t watched or that the suspect wasn’t on it was against the rules
to say that he was. But it was fine to say we hadn’t had a chance to watch it,
would there be any reason you would be on it?

My favourite was bringing in a bankers box marked with the
occurrence number and name of the deceased. Never once would I talk about it,
mention it in any way or even look at it. It would just sit there like the
elephant in the room, making the suspect wonder just how much dirt we had on
him.

“So tell me, why did you kill the other four women too?”

“I didn’t kill them. I swear I didn’t kill those women.” He
bared his teeth, breathing heavily through tightly stretched lips. “There’s no
fucking way you can prove that.”

“Okay, Morris,” Kara said, calm as when she started. “I
believe you. But tell me this. I’ve been yelling at you for killing your wife,
accusing you of doing it just to cash in on some insurance money and you barely
bat an eye, you don’t yell or anything. But when I accuse you of something you
didn’t do, you freak out, start swearing at me saying you didn’t do it.”

A stutter.

“You’re looking at first degree, Morris. Twenty-five years
minimum. Tell me what happened, maybe it was heat of the moment, maybe you just
snapped. Second degree is a lot better.”

He took a deep breath, but didn’t speak.

“Look, Morris. I know you fucking killed her. And I’ll be
able to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. This killing, it’s nothing like the
other four.”

“Fuck.”

And he was done. Fifteen minutes.

“Every morning when I got home there was more shit piled up
in the house, in the fucking bedroom too. All I wanted was one goddamned room
that I could actually walk in. Is that too much to ask for, for Christ’s sake?
When she’d leave for work I’d take all the boxes and put them in the other
rooms but there was no more space left.

“I came home early this morning, got the job done and felt
like sneaking out. Left around five. When I came into the bedroom there was
shit everywhere, boxes and boxes of shit. I don’t know where the fuck it came
from or how it got there. I snapped. I grabbed the cord from on top of one of
the boxes, came up behind her and put it around her neck. She barely put up a
fight. When I was done I was scared shitless, didn’t know what to do. Then I
figured I could blame it on The Strangler.”

Kara reached out and touched Morris’s leg. “I knew you
weren’t a bad guy. Now, how do you feel?”

Morris paused for a moment. “Free.”

“Because you confessed?”

“Because I’m finally rid of her.”

Morris was taken back to his cell and Kara joined me in the
viewing room.

“Bitch,” I said once she walked in.

“Whoa, what did I do?”

“You just cost me fifty bucks. I figured you’d take half an
hour, Kristoff said no more than twenty minutes. You know you could have made
him sweat longer.”

“He wasn’t worth it.”

That was a point I couldn’t argue with.

* * *

I settled into bed that night, ready to sleep the sleep of
the just, when my phone rang. A private number. The glaring red numbers across
the room told me it was just after midnight. I knew the phone call would be
important, but it was too early for another killing.

I answered the phone, my voice still rough. “Yeah?”

“It’s Kara. I got your message.”

Message? When had I left that?

“I know you said you’d be home around nine but I was out
with a couple of friends, and holy shit look at the time. Sorry, Link.”

Yet another person calling me Link today. Kat I could
understand, but for Kara it was out of character.

The last message I had left for her was the day I flew back
in from Algonquin.

“Have you been drinking?”

“I’ve had a couple.” She paused. “What gave it away?”

“You swore and you called me Link. I could spot it in my
sleep.” And I practically had.

“Oh my God, sorry Detective.” She stammered trying to regain
face only she thought she had lost.

“Kara, calm down, it’s fine. Why’d you call?”

“Um, oh yeah, I forgot to tell you today I checked up on the
police college idea. Nothing yet, but we’ve got the staff there checking
through the cameras to see if anyone left and came back on the nights of the
killings. If they went out all four nights around the right time, it should be
enough to get them in for questioning at least. Hard to believe it might be
someone from OPC.”

“Well, remember, it’s just a possibility, but with how
little we’ve got we need to check it out.”

“Right, would fit though. How else would they know enough to
leave no evidence behind?”

My thoughts exactly.

“Look, I’m off to bed,” I said. “We’ve got an early morning
ahead of us. Have a glass of water or two and some Tylenol and get some sleep.
I doubt Grant will be happy with you talking to another man so late.” Grant was
her boyfriend, an OPP constable working patrol.

“He’s working night shift tonight, I’m all alone. Should
sleep well without his snoring.”

I laughed and thought of how well Kat must have slept the
past two nights. “See you in the morning. I’ll get you an extra-large coffee,
you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Lincoln. Good night.”

I hung up the phone and drifted back to sleep.

I walk through the forest yet again. It’s dark and there’s
no moon to guide my path. A faint glow in the distance is all I have to see by,
and I spend a lot of time on the ground, the roots and rocks bringing me to my
knees. As I feel my way through the forest, the light grows brighter and soon
it separates into four distinct glows.

It is a house deep in the middle of the woods. Light pours
through its windows. The ground turns solid—level paving stones lead up to the
front door. Fear grips me as I approach, unsure of what lies in wait.

A solid wood door, no windows through which I can see
inside. A brass door knocker hangs on the top half just below a small peephole.
My hand finds the handle, lit by the illuminated doorbell beside it. I press
down on the latch, but the door is locked. I take the knocker in hand and sound
three loud knocks that echo through the forest.

The door opens to a uniformed officer standing inside the
sparse foyer. Two pairs of women’s shoes sit on the floor behind the door.

I never get the chance to speak.

“You’ll never make it in time,” the constable says. “She’s
already dead.”

I was out of bed, dressed in whatever was lying on the floor
and down the stairs before I even realized I was awake. My untied shoelaces
bounced as I ran out the door, keys in hand to my waiting vehicle. At least I
had remembered my phone.

I had only been to Kara’s once before—she had invited my
family and I for dinner after getting posted to homicide. I hoped I’d still be
able to find her house. I revved the engine and drove down empty streets toward
the west edge of the city. Kara lived in Delaware, just outside of the city
limits in OPP territory. Which made for a woman living in a rural area, home
alone, her boyfriend working the night shift. Shit. No alarm system. “Not worth
the money,” she had said. I raced out Oxford Street over the bridge that had
been built only a few years ago that connected the old edge of the city with
the new edge—a developing neighbourhood. I arrived at Westdel Bourne only
minutes later, turned left and drove south on the dimly lit road, my brights
the only lights leading the way.

It was difficult driving while I dialed Kara’s cellphone
one-handed. Her voice mail picked up each time after three rings. I brought my
phone up to face level and dialed dispatch. The phone rang and my eyes returned
to the road just in time to see a deer standing in front of me.

I swerved hard, missed the paralyzed animal by a hair then
careened toward the shoulder. My tires hit the soft gravel and the steering
wheel spun beneath my hands, instinct taking over. The car fishtailed, rocks
and stones flying up and bouncing off the undercarriage. I slid and spun then
came to a stop in the middle of the road facing the way I had come.

“Hello? Hello?”

I had dialed the non-emergency line, a number given only to
police. The voice on the other end sounded worried and its repeated greetings
helped me locate my phone under the gas pedal. I must have dropped it when I
went for the wheel.

“Hello?”

“It’s Munroe.”

“Hello, Detective. Everything okay?”

“Look, I’m not sure. I need Kara’s phone number at home,
she’s not answering her phone. She’s on her own tonight.”

“Is she in danger?”

I turned the car around and began speeding back toward
Kara’s, the engine’s whine audible to the dispatcher. “I don’t know anything
right now. I’m almost at her house. She’s probably just sleeping and left her
phone in her purse.”

“Okay.” Apprehension filled her voice. “Her number is
five-one-nine-six-four-two-three-one-two-nine. Did you get that?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Lincoln, I’ve got a car nearby. I’ll send them your way,
alright?”

“Sure, but no lights and sirens. I’m probably overreacting
as it is.”

“Okay. They’re about ten minutes out. Maybe a little more.”

“Thanks.” I hung up the phone.

I squealed around the curve onto Longwoods Road, ignoring
the stop sign and only tapping the brakes. It didn’t take long to make it into
Delaware. My fingers tried to dial Kara’s number, but tremors that rocked my
hands slowed me down. I turned onto Victoria Street, made a quick left on
Prince of Wales Avenue then turned again onto Prince Albert Street. Kara’s
house was just a short distance away.

My phone rang in my lap but I kept driving. If Kara picked
up I would answer but until then getting there was my only goal.

Four rings sounded before the answering machine picked up.

I pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car just in
time to hear a loud scream coming from the upstairs bedroom.

I was unarmed.

Damn. My flight from the house had been so fast that getting
my gun never even struck my mind. The door was only a short distance away and
the gap closed in just a few strides. It was unlocked. The door swung open
without a sound and I could hear a fight upstairs. I took the stairs in the
dark three at a time and burst into Kara’s room to find her on the floor, her
attacker on top of her trying to strangle her. She was kicking hard, her hands
underneath the rope he had pressed against her neck, keeping it from doing its
job.

The man looked back at me, giving Kara the opportunity she
needed to drive her knee full force into his groin. He rolled off of her and I
grabbed onto his collar then pulled him to the ground.

Kara was crying, fear gripping her and holding her immobile.

“Call nine-one-one,” I yelled.

My voice brought her back. Kara crawled to the bedside table
and picked up the phone. She tucked it between her shoulder and ear and reached
under the bed. Her gun. She was going for her gun.

The man flailed and fought against me. Three punches to the
side of his head were not enough to slow him down, his hands still grabbed at
me and at the floor. My eyes were on Kara putting the magazine into her pistol
when I felt a sharp pain in my side and fell backwards.

The man got up, leapt over me and sprinted for the door. My
hand shot out and grabbed his leg. It wasn’t enough to stop him but it slowed
him down as I heard the familiar sound of a handgun slide racking before three
gunshots rang out in the night.

He yelled out in pain but continued running, his heavy
footsteps sounding down the stairs. The room was dark, only a faint glow came
through the windows, and I couldn’t see as I reached to my side and felt the
handle of a knife sticking out. Despite all of my training, I grabbed the
handle, pulled the blade out and threw it to the floor.

“Stay on the phone,” I told Kara, “get everyone here.” I
took the gun from her hand and bolted down the steps, my right hand holding her
pistol and my left pressed against my side to stop the bleeding. I ran out into
the night and my eyes panned back and forth, still adjusting to the darkness. I
saw the outline of a man to the north as he sprinted down the street, his right
arm clutching his left shoulder.

My legs became pistons, pumping in perfect time with one
another as the distance between us shortened. We were within twenty metres of
each other as he approached the intersection ahead. If he rounded the corner,
if I lost sight of him, he could be gone forever.

I released the pressure from my wound, stopped, brought the
gun to eye level in both hands. The sights lined up in the center of his back,
it was a shot that couldn’t miss.

You’ll be no better than him.

I watched him round the corner before I lowered the gun and
ran again.

It was too late. He was gone.

Sirens sounded in the distance informing me that the cavalry
was on its way.

He couldn’t hide forever.

I turned around and sprinted back to Kara, cursing myself
for not having taken the shot. It would have been justified and not just
because the man had attempted to kill Kara and stabbed me. I was authorized to
use lethal force to prevent serious bodily harm or death to others, even if it
meant shooting an unarmed man in the back. Honourable? No, but justified. But I
had hesitated, and because of that, other women were now at risk.

I made it to Kara’s driveway as the first cruiser pulled up,
lights flashing and sirens blaring. “It’s me, Munroe,” I yelled over the noise.
“He went west on the next street, radio it in. Get canine and an ambulance out
here and go after him.”

The car sped off as fast as it had arrived and I ran inside
and up the stairs to find Kara. I turned on the lights and found her still sitting
on the floor where I had left her, the phone in her hand and an empty gun case
at her feet. A bloody knife sat a few feet away.

“I got him,” she said.

I turned my head and saw blood sprayed on the wall and a
long hole torn in the drywall as the bullet skimmed along before burying itself
deep into a wooden stud.

“Nice shot.” I took the phone from her hand and sat down
beside her then wrapped my arms around her. Blood from my shirt transferred
onto hers, a thin white nightshirt that accentuated her form perfectly. The
shirt showed her subtle curves, her nipples visible through the semi-sheer
fabric. It was horrible of me to be thinking like that, but seeing how
beautiful and strong she was in light of the situation drew me to her even
more. She wore a necklace now—a red ligature mark along the front of her
throat, the only place the rope had made contact as she tried to hold her
attacker back.

The rope. I looked around and saw it sticking out from under
her bed.

We had all the evidence we needed now. The killer’s blood
and the murder weapon. It would only be a matter of time until he was in
custody.

“Link… I… um… you… I…,” she tried with all the strength she
had left to speak but the words would not come out. I knew what she wanted to
say, she wanted to thank me for saving her life, for coming to her rescue.

“Quiet,” I said as I held her tighter.

She turned her face toward me, her green eyes looked deep
into mine. She leaned in and her soft lips met mine.

I froze, my mind uncertain of what to do. But then my body,
which knew what it needed, returned her kiss, our lips parting and our tongues
entwining. Our kiss lasted for only a moment before the sound of a man clearing
his throat forced us to break apart.

It was Red. As inappropriate as he usually was, his voice
was gentle now. “Situations like this can make people do crazy things. Not that
I saw anything.”

With that he left the room. I turned back to Kara and our
eyes met once more but the passion and spontaneity were gone. I helped her to
her feet and handed her a hooded sweater that had been hanging on the bedpost.

“We’re going to have a lot of work ahead of us. I need to
call Kat, just to let her know where I am and what’s happened.” She looked
frantic. My lips curved up at the corners. “Most of what happened.”

My hand found Kara’s and I helped her to her feet. She was
still in shock.

“You’re bleeding,” she said. “I didn’t even notice.” Her
eyes went to the bloody knife on the floor. “Oh God, he stabbed you? Are you
all right?”

“I’ll be fine, Kara. The bleeding’s almost gone. I don’t
think he hit anything internal. We need to get you checked out.” A person who
survives being choked or strangled can seem fine at first only to develop
sometimes fatal complications much later. A trip to the hospital might be
required, and I would be right beside her, riding in the ambulance awaiting a
number of stitches.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Link?”

There it was again, the short form of my name. We had shared
something special, not the kiss but the near death experience. It was a bond
that would never be broken.

“Trust me, I’m fine. Look at me. I just chased that asshole
down the street then sprinted back here. If it were serious I’d be white as a
sheet right now. Stop worrying about me.”

I helped Kara down the stairs and found the paramedics
coming in through the front door. Red had taken down their names and stalled
them for a moment in case Kara and I had renewed our… inappropriate actions.
The medics saw my bloodstained shirt and were on me in an instant. “Give me some
gauze and tend to her,” was all I had to say.

I put pressure on my wound and watched as they checked Kara
over. She was an attractive woman, something that was not news to me, but my
attraction to her had always been on a level of admiration and respect for her
abilities and drive. As my eyes fixed upon her, sitting on her couch calmly in
the midst of chaos, I saw another side of her, one I had ignored. I saw her as
a woman in the simplest sense. I have never believed in love at first sight.
Lust, yes, but you can’t love a person based on their appearance alone. It’s
getting to know someone, learning about them, their character, their dreams,
and their lives that makes us fall in love with them. Looks can start the
chemicals but chemistry doesn’t last for long.

But I knew Kara. So to suddenly see her, not as a partner,
not as a friend, but as the beautiful young woman that she was, stirred more
than chemistry.

I gazed at her face, her features holding me in place. Brown
hair streaked with natural highlights of auburn, a high forehead marked by
eyebrows that angled down in the middle, drawing attention to her small nose
and large round green eyes. Her lips were full and her mouth wide, widening
even more as she smiled. A smattering of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks
and all this sat atop a petite and delicate frame. She wasn’t a supermodel, but
she had a unique and unconventional beauty.

Kara turned and looked at me, catching me staring at her,
watching her. She smiled wide; it was a pure and genuine smile that always
warmed my heart.

I heard Red’s voice again, saying that people do crazy
things in crazy situations. Maybe he was right—maybe this was just the
adrenaline, the fear, the pain and the thought of losing someone important.

Kat entered my mind and guilt flowed in. I loved her, I
always would love her and nothing would change that. I could never tell her
what had happened. Even given the circumstances, it would break her heart and
Kara and I, nothing could ever happen again. I respected Kat too much for that.
This was an accident, it had to be.

The paramedics decided that they would take Kara to the
hospital, and I, of course had no choice in the matter. I liaised with Red,
asked him to hold the scene and get other detectives out along with the forensics
team. The blood on the wall and the rope would need to be tested.

“Understood. I’ll call you if we find anything. And
Lincoln?”

“Yes?”

“I hate to say it… but he got away for now.”

I clenched my teeth. My reply was not to Red. “We’ll get him
Kara, I promise.”

The ride to the hospital seemed shorter than it was. Kara
and I were both stable, the paramedics had taped some gauze over my wound, and
we sat in the back together under the not so watchful eye of one paramedic. He
seemed to think Kara and I were a couple and allowed us some privacy. We didn’t
speak the entire ride—I took her hand in mine and gently rubbed its back with
my thumb. I found it hard to look at her now, what had happened and the
consequences were becoming real to me.