Haunting Whispers (5 page)

The troops referred to him as a pretty-boy leg humper who didn’t know the meaning of real police work. Behind his back, they called him Sergeant Not So Sharp, or Not So for short. Fortunately, most of the detectives in the unit had experience and didn’t require a lot of supervision. Coming from patrol, she was the exception, with only two years in SVU. If she needed help she asked a senior officer.

Sharp hung up the phone and waved her in. “Got a little present for you, Butler.” He pushed a stack of overstuffed flex folders toward her. “The Whisperer case is yours now. Give it your best shot. I’m not assigning you a partner unless you turn up something. And if you do find anything, let me know. Got it?”

She got it perfectly. Not So didn’t want her to bother him unless she turned up a lead resulting in clearance and/or subsequent publicity. He definitely wanted in on that. “Yes, sir.”

In Rae’s opinion, serial-assault cases should receive more hype and a higher priority, even if they were cold cases. The department didn’t expend a lot of manpower on unsolved crimes unless they were homicides. This particular suspect had stopped short of killing. She picked up the files and turned to leave.

“One more thing. You don’t have to worry about the Everhart case anymore.”

“But—”

“Don’t ask any dip-shit questions.”

Screw that. Questions were her business, and she wanted to know why the sudden shift in priorities. She didn’t believe in coincidences or the kindness of politically motivated supervisors. “Was a suspect arrested? Are you giving it to someone else?”

“I told you, it’s no longer your concern, Butler.”

“Three days ago the chief and the mayor were breathing down my neck for an arrest.”

“And now they’re not. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He nodded toward the folders in her arms. “Count your blessings.”

Not So was as intuitive as a hammer, but he was blessed with political acumen. He believed information was power, and he wasn’t about to share any of his. She didn’t like giving up cases before she cleared them, especially this one. It
was
only a simple assault, but she wanted to know what happened to Audrey. And her reasons weren’t purely professional.

Then another thought occurred to her. Maybe Audrey had used her position in the mayor’s office to call off the investigation. Not So would definitely jump at the chance to do the mayor a favor. Would the police department let that happen? Did Audrey have something to hide or was she simply concerned with the most productive use of departmental resources, as she’d stated? Dropping a case, no matter how insignificant, was sort of like cooking the crime stat books and generally frowned upon.

As she left Sharp’s office, she considered maybe he was right to take her off the investigation. Rae couldn’t even concentrate with Audrey staring at her. She lost track of physical tells and the facts while drowning in her blue eyes. Audrey could’ve spun an intricate tale of deceit while Rae focused on her sexy leg crossing. Rae was usually more attentive and much more certain of other people’s reactions. If Audrey was hiding something, could Rae trust herself enough to ask the right questions? Audrey was simply distracting. But her delicate façade masked fierce independence and an almost-palpable depth of experience. Was what Rae saw in Audrey a reaction to some past hurt, a deeply buried scar, or the result of her recent assault?

Rae dropped the stack of folders on her desk and decided she had better things to do than chase a mystery no one wanted her to solve. The victims in these cases deserved her best effort. Her first serial case required that her skills be sharp and her instincts on target. It pained her to think she might not be up for the task, no matter how badly she wanted justice or how much she craved the challenge.

She tried to reason away her reservations. Sergeant Sharp wouldn’t have given her the cases if he didn’t trust her skills. Maybe he knew she’d fail and he could blame it on her inexperience. That didn’t make sense. Failure would make him look bad. He must want her to succeed. She hated this—doubting herself and her abilities.

Rae quieted the uncertainty and pulled the first case file, dated almost a year ago, from the folder. Victim #1—she didn’t allow herself to call the victims by name yet, except when conducting interviews. Some of her coworkers considered her method unsympathetic, but her approach served as an additional motivator and helped keep her emotions in check. When she made an arrest, she felt like she’d done her job and could then face the victims with pride and address them by name.

The no-frills verbiage of Whitt’s follow-up report introduced Rae to the first victim and the severity of the offense:

White female, 21 years of age, blond hair, kidnapped from a high-traffic area and assaulted with a blade, possibly knife and/or scalpel. Victim on the way home from New Year’s party, reports being subdued, possibly drugged. Woke up hours later near dumpster in deserted area with injuries. No information on suspect. Abrasions on victim’s wrists from restraints. Toxicology report showed no signs of drugs in victim’s system.

Erratic slicing-type cuts to upper abdominal area extending to lower abdominals above pubic region. Injuries appear random and frenzied. Victim reported suspect whispered “liar” to her repeatedly.

Rae slid the victim photos from the folder and stared in disbelief at the irregular cuts through the taut, young flesh. The weapon severed muscle tissue in some areas and barely dissected the skin layers in others. At first glance the injuries appeared to be a classic crime of passion, a hurried attack. The fact that the suspect referred to the victim as a liar could suggest a connection. Rae wouldn’t assume that until she knew more about the victim’s life. She pored over the other documents in the folder without finding anything significant. When Rae closed the first file with a combination of sadness and anger, her shift had ended. The case read like a blueprint of how to avoid capture for a felony assault, an investigator’s nightmare of dead-end leads and inconclusive scientific results—the kind of case an investigator obsessed over.

Rae had already made an appointment with the primary detective on the cases, Ken Whitt, recently retired. She debated starting fresh without any input or opinions from him, but a cop’s instincts were often the best weapon in solving cases. Whitt had been a detective for twenty of his thirty-year career. If he had any hunches or advice, she certainly wanted to hear it. She couldn’t imagine retiring and leaving this suspect free to inflict more pain. And from what she’d read, he would strike again. Animals like him didn’t stop. Their need drove them to torture and mutilate until they were caught and caged.

She stretched the kinks out of her back, gathered the file together, and headed toward the canteen. This case was too important to leave lying around open on a desk. It would be with her until she closed it by arrest. However, right now she needed a break. Too much violence at one time, even on paper, diluted her attention. Another jolt of caffeine and some fresh air would prepare her for the next round of reports and pictures.

She had to pass the crime-analysis unit on her way to the canteen located on the first floor above the police department. As she approached the door, one of the employees exited and she glanced inside. Audrey sat next to Loretta Granger, a red-haired, sultry records specialist who had attended the same recruit school as Audrey. Engrossed in something on the computer screen, they seemed very cozy, smiling and chatting as the printer tapped out copies. Rae stepped in before the door closed and slid into a cubicle behind Audrey.

She looked at the data displayed on the screen: a list of assaults for the past year. Several unsolved incidents were highlighted in yellow, including the Whisperer cases she’d inherited. Why was Audrey going through crime analysis instead of the chief’s office for information about police cases? Perhaps the mayor was looking into something specific and needed to bypass the department, maybe an internal investigation of some sort. Rae tested her theory as she walked toward Audrey and gauged her reaction. “Ms. Everhart.”

Audrey pushed away from the computer desk so quickly she almost toppled over. “Detective Butler, what are you doing here?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same question.” Audrey’s face flushed and she looked helplessly from the analyst to Rae. Even a rookie could call this one.

“Looking into a matter for the mayor. Research, you know, work,” Audrey said.

Loretta rolled her chair closer to Audrey and immediately defended her. “I was helping her out, Rae. The crime-analysis folks were backed up.” The smile Loretta gave Audrey said her services didn’t have to end at statistics.

Rae found the visual leer inappropriate and almost said so, but Audrey’s personal life wasn’t her business. “Anything I can help you with?” If Audrey didn’t want Rae to investigate her assault, she certainly wouldn’t include her in a clandestine investigation. And Rae knew Audrey was doing exactly that. Research for the mayor, right.

“No, thanks. I have everything I need for the moment.” Audrey grabbed a printout from the computer and started toward the door. “Thanks, Lo. Catch you later.”

She should probably just walk away. If Audrey wanted to shut her out, fine. She didn’t need the additional grief, especially not now. Instead, Rae followed her down the hallway and onto the elevator. When the doors closed and they were alone, she turned to Audrey. “If I asked your boss, would he know about this
investigation
?”

Audrey wouldn’t face her. “Let it go, Detective. This doesn’t concern you.”

“You mean it doesn’t concern me as in having a case taken away from me or as in it’s not personal?” Rae heard the bite in her tone and didn’t like it. She hated not knowing. If Audrey trusted Loretta Granger, why couldn’t she trust her? Her rationale didn’t make sense, but at the moment she didn’t care. She couldn’t handle one more secret and feeling that her instincts were faulty again.

“I simply suggested to Mayor Downing that the police department might have better things to do than investigate something that may or may not be an assault.” She waved the printout. “And I was right. Quite a few unsolved cases could use some attention.”

The air between them in the enclosed space shimmered with tension. Rae moved closer, and Audrey looked as though she was struggling to breathe. “Why are you trying so hard to convince yourself and me that you weren’t assaulted when it’s obvious you were? What are you hiding? Is someone threatening you?”

Audrey backed away from her as far as possible. The look on her face was almost fearful, exactly like two days ago at her apartment. What was she so afraid of? Maybe Rae had been too forceful. Maybe the attack was more traumatic than she realized and Audrey was having trouble coping. Rae cursed her errant instincts once again.

Audrey’s expression shifted as the doors opened. “I can’t tell you what happened. Why don’t you focus on something more substantial? Besides, I’m so bored with these questions that my feet are falling asleep.” With that final jibe, Audrey stepped off the elevator and flashed a smile as the doors closed behind her.

Rae punched the Open button repeatedly but the elevator was already moving. She couldn’t understand Audrey’s behavior. One minute she cowered fearfully in the corner and the next she made jokes. She didn’t seem the type to jest about something as serious as assault. Rae remembered an earlier incident in the hospital and one at Audrey’s home where she’d used humor to deflect her discomfort. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. If not, she’d seriously misjudged Audrey.

Rae returned to her desk. She needed a break from work and thoughts of Audrey Everhart. She shoved the files into her briefcase and made a quick phone call on the way to her car. “Deb, can you get the gang together tonight? My place will be fine. I need to vent, laugh, and celebrate. Not necessarily in that order.”

*

When the elevator doors closed, Audrey exhaled a lung-busting gush of air. Being in such close proximity to Rae had taken all her restraint. In addition to the uncustomary attraction, Audrey had also felt anxious and almost fearful, though Rae posed no threat. She had no idea what she’d babbled about during the ride. One thing was certain, Rae had been taken off her case and wasn’t happy about it. Why didn’t she tell Rae someone had assaulted her with a stun gun and she had no idea who it was? It sounded simple until she figured in all her secrets.

And gauging from Rae’s scathing evaluation of Loretta, she would need to explain the records specialist soon. Could she justify forming a friendship with a woman solely to get information? When it became obvious Loretta wanted more, Audrey had utilized all her evasive maneuvers and jokes to keep Loretta close but not too close. Rae had seen something between them and drawn the wrong conclusion. Audrey would clarify everything, but not now.

She couldn’t let her resolve waver, but feelings about Rae Butler kept surfacing: fear of what she might find out, apprehension about her opinions, concern about being judged and found lacking, and horror that these worries covered a deeper emotion. She had to focus on the facts, remain objective. Once she had some answers, maybe she could have a personal life.

As she walked back to her office, Audrey reviewed the dream she’d had and tried to make sense of it. Some of the pieces fit her recent attack and others were like bits of a nightmare. Maybe her mind was simply filling in blanks.

Her research about amnesia indicated that the memories of her earlier assault were probably still intact, blocked by her defense mechanisms. It also pointed toward partial or complete memory recovery. But it had been so long. Why could she
still
not remember? She could recite snippets of information provided by others but few of her own recollections. Perhaps she wasn’t suffering from amnesia at all but blocking the dreadful memories. It seemed a cosmic joke. She was so extremely intuitive about other people and situations and so oblivious about herself.