Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series) (17 page)

BOOK: Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series)
3.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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“Yeah, you kinda were. Knock it off.” Had gave her a grin. “I’ll take the odd hours, you take the even. If there’s anything out of whack, I’ll come get you.”

“Perfect.”

At this point they were now down the hall to where Had’s room lay. He swiped the card, the click sounded and the light stayed red. He tried it again. Same results. He grumbled to himself, breathed on the magnetic strip, wiped it off on his shirt and… nothing, once more.

After asking with her expression and holding out her hand, Coop went through the same process. Green light on the first try.

Figured.

Laughing, Agent Cooper preceded him into the room. She flopped down on one of the beds, leaving space for Had to set up on the other. He pulled out his laptop and fired it up, loosening his tie and top button while waiting for the program to launch.

The tightness of his pants kept him from adopting his partner’s pose, and he flopped around on the bed for a while, trying to find a position that worked. He ignored the stifled laughter that drifted his way from the other bed. Opening up the program, Had started up the conversation to try to distract Agent Cooper out of her mirth.

“I was talking with Joshua earlier about the case—”

“Hold on,” Coop interjected. “Joshua was talking about the case? Willingly?”

“Yeah… Guess I hadn’t thought about how that might be a little weird.” Had plugged in the data from before, cross-referencing trucking routes, employees and criminal records. “Anyway, he mentioned focusing on the crimes that required planning. Breaking and entering, fraud, stuff like that.”

“Makes sense. Can your program handle that?”

Had snorted. “Ha!” He depressed a key and turned the screen to face her. There were eight names that remained highlighted. “At this point, do you really need to ask?”

“My apologies, oh mighty computer nerd,” Coop intoned.

“Um. We prefer ‘computer geek’.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Is there…?” Had made a point of clearing his throat. “Is there a
difference
? I can’t believe you just asked that question.”

“From your response, I’m going to guess that there is.” Coop swung her legs over the edge of the bed and scooted closer to the screen, leaning closer to the screen as she navigated through the features of the program. She tapped her fingers against her legs, peering at the information Had was pulling up for her.

“Huge. Geeks know how to talk to women without gagging on their tongues.”

“Ah, I see.”

Had’s phone lit up, the music from Psycho echoing through the small hotel room. Agent Cooper looked up at him.

“Your mom. You better answer it.”

Wrinkling up his nose, Had pushed the “accept” button on his touchscreen. “Mama, I’m in a meeting with my boss right now. Can I call you back?”

“Uh huh,” she answered through the receiver, her voice tinny. “And where, exactly, is this supposed meetin’?” she asked.

Had hemmed and hawed for a second. “It’s… um… well… In my hotel room,” he finished.

“Right. You give me a call back once you get yer britches back on, sweetcakes.”

“Mama!” he cried, outraged, but she had already hung up. He tossed the phone on the bed, where it bounced twice and then came to a stop right before going over the edge.

“Still doesn’t believe you, does she?” Coop asked.

“Nope.”

“Well,” she sat back up and pushed herself to her feet, rubbing her hand over her face. “Do whatever you can to get those numbers narrowed down. I’m going to go check on Joshua and then to bed.”

“You okay?” he asked before she could get out the door.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“You seem stressed out.”

“No, I’m—” she began.

“You’ve rubbed your face, you’re tapping on your leg with your finger,” Had cut her off. “Those’re both things you do when you get anxious.”

She stopped tapping her leg and made the combination smile and grimace expression again. “You may be right.” Coop sighed as she leaned against the wall. For the first time that evening, it seemed that she wasn’t hiding all of her mounting tension. “We’re almost finished with the body, Had. We’re only lacking the head and torso at this point. That’s not much,” she confided.

Had thought back to the files he’d read on Humpty Dumpty. “And right about now is when he’s going to be looking for his next victim.” All of the sudden, Joshua’s attitude as they were headed into the hotel started feeling like it was more than just a physical response to a lack of alcohol.

“Yes. In fact, while you’re working on getting us a prime suspect or two or four, can you plug in recent kidnappings along the primary routes? Maybe set up an alert?”

“Got it,” he answered.

As Agent Cooper moved toward the door of the hotel room, he could see the tension in her shoulders and neck. Talking about the next victim took this from being a cool puzzle that Had was trying to sort out to what it actually was.

A race to keep someone else from getting chopped into pieces.

Which reminded him. Looking down at his pants, Had sighed. It was time to shred his favorite pair of jeans. There was no way they were coming off of him any other way. He already had some mild concerns about the blood flow that may or may not be getting down to his feet. Maybe if he was careful, he could save a couple of large scraps for the next time his mama made a quilt.

He began the search for a pair of scissors.

* * *

Sariah scanned ahead of herself as she moved down the hallway of the hotel. The weight of her realization pushed down on her, slowing her mind, her steps, even her breathing. It almost felt like she was moving through molasses.

Somehow, up to this point, it had all been an intellectual exercise for her: get everyone to believe that Humpty was back, push to get the case, make her team the best it could be. Even the victim wasn’t really a victim in her mind. They hadn’t been able to match the DNA to anyone specific, so there was no face to the crime.

But now that they were nearing the end of this body, another was on its way. Another father, mother, sister, brother. Even the homeless person out panhandling for money for the next fix was connected somewhere, in spite of how many of those ties had been severed through deliberate distancing or accidental loss. Joshua was the perfect example of that premise.

Speaking of Joshua… Sariah looked to the door, checking her makeshift escape alert. The pieces of tape had all been broken.

Dammit.

It wasn’t a sure thing that Joshua had flown the coop. He could have just popped down the hall to grab some ice. Another second and she rejected that idea out of hand. The thought that Joshua would ever water down his alcohol, just to have it be more palatable going down, was as ludicrous a premise as she’d come up with yet.

But still… you never knew for sure until you verified.

Coming closer to the door, Sariah spotted a man in a hotel uniform heading down the hall. Acting on an impulse, she called out to him.

“Excuse me.”

The man turned around, his expression inquisitive. “Can I help you?”

“I… ah…” She realized that the question she was about to ask might seem more than a little strange. “Did you just come from that room?”

His face shifted, his demeanor becoming more suspicious. “I’m not sure—”

Sariah pulled out her badge and identification. “I’m Special Agent Sariah Cooper.” Let the guy take from that what he would. Joshua was sort of in her custody, right? This situation was a bit outside the official playbook.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man backtracked. His nametag identified him as Blake Kendrick. “Yes, I was just talking to the man there.”

“And…?”

“It was kinda weird. He wanted me to take these.” Blake lifted up his hands, several small bottles of alcohol clutched in each fist. Sariah hadn’t noticed them when he’d first turned around.

“Was that all of it?” she asked, doing what she could to keep the surprise out of her tone. This was not normal.

“No, that was the strange thing,” he confessed. “I’ve had people… you know, alcoholics and stuff… ask me to take alcohol out of the minibar before, but never only part of it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sariah turned to head back, but then asked a final question. “And he’s still in there?”

“Yep. Almost shut the door in my face.”

That sounded more like the Joshua she knew. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem.”

She walked back down to Joshua’s door and pulled down the remnants of the tape. No need to have Had come knocking on her door at one o’clock in the morning, freaked out that Joshua had bolted on his watch. She slapped new tape over where the old had been.

The situation with Joshua and the alcohol could wait until the morning. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be a bad thing that he had gotten rid of part of his stash, right?

But if there was one thing Sariah was sure of, it was not to believe for one single moment that she had the former agent figured out.

* * *

The old man’s rancid breath invaded Joshua’s nostrils.

“You’re an agent with the BAU. You bring killers to justice, find some measure of peace for the families of the victims, wrap things up with a pretty little bow.” His father-in-law’s voice was raspy with age and the cigars he liked to smoke. “But when it comes to your own family? You’re a cripple. A half-man. You might as well be a eunuch as far as they’re concerned.”

Joshua wanted to respond, to defend himself, to push back against this vile creature filled with hate and putrescence. But his voice wouldn’t work. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

Besides, even if he could speak, what would he say?

It was true. All true.
Truetruetruetruetrue.

His wife joined her father, standing at his right elbow. “He’s right, you know. I can’t believe I ever married such a worthless piece of shit.” She shrugged, wrinkling up her perfect nose. Joshua had always loved that nose, a spray of freckles dotting the bridge, leading down to the cheeks, evidence of the Irish heritage on her mom’s side. “I never loved you. You know that, don’t you, sweetie?”

I do. I know. I’m sorry.

But there was nothing. She was there. He could reach out and touch her. But his hands remained chained at his sides, his tongue trapped inside his mouth. Immobile. Silent. Impotent.

And then his daughters, ranging from seven down to three, filed in and gathered around their mother and grandfather. They all looked up at him, their noses just like their mother’s, their eyes were his own, staring back at him.

“They’re right, Daddy. They’re right. So right. So very, very right.” They all chanted in unison. “You were a terrible daddy, Daddy. Terrible. Daddy. Daddy.”

I know. I know. You’re all so beautiful. I know.

George, the old man, the cancerous soul that called himself Joshua’s father-in-law, leaned in close. So close that Joshua could pick out every one of the large pores on the aging vulture’s face.

And then George licked him. Full on the mouth.

Joshua started awake to Bella’s kisses. She was whimpering and whining, as she appeared to be doing what she could to lick every bit of the distasteful dream away.

The feel of the nightmare lingered, but the warm body beside him soothed some of the ache he felt in his chest, filled the hole that remained in his belly, washed off the lingering scent of failure that clung to him.

Joshua snuggled back down with the puppy and went right to sleep.

 

CHAPTER 12

Sariah stood in the shower, trying to wash the burdens of the case down the drain alongside the dirt and sweat from the road. Last night had gone better than expected. After the first few forays out to Joshua’s room had proved that he hadn’t left, she’d let Had off the hook. She’d also cut down the visits to once every other hour, then once every three. She almost felt like she’d gotten a full night’s sleep for once.

Almost.

As the near-scalding hot water streamed down her body, she thought through what their next steps should be. It was time to use some of the information that they’d gleaned from Had’s program, working in concert with Joshua’s expertise. Sariah turned the cold water down to where the flow of water was almost pure heat. The near-pain that resulted helped her to attain more clarity in her thought process.

The heat seemed to drag reluctant ideas out of the recesses of her mind. Joshua had been right about her. She couldn’t have handled this case on her own. There were more than a few moments when she looked around and could see nothing that she had contributed to this case other than the bringing together of two brilliant minds. Intellects that she then exploited in order to further her own career.

Was that it? Was that who she was? The middle manager whose only redeeming quality was her drive? A Salieri to Mozart’s genius… able to recognize and use greatness, while seething in jealousy and impotent rage at both the prodigies she was surrounded by, and the God who had given them what she lacked.

She stepped out of the shower, grabbing towels from the rack to scrub herself dry. The television played in the background. When she was up and alone, there was always something on. Some kind of noise to keep her from being alone with her thoughts. The only exception was the shower. Maybe that’s why she kept the water so hot, to drown out the incessant whisperings of the voices inside her head. The ones that were so convinced that she was incompetent. Useless. A complete and utter fraud.

Dressing in haste, Sariah did what she could to get out of the room as fast as possible. Time to get things moving. The only way to keep the voices at bay was to show them progress. And right now, the clock was ticking down fast; the white sands of the hourglass piling up as a witness against her abilities. Someone new was going to die, and it would be her fault.

She knocked on Had’s door. “Hey! Meeting down at the breakfast buffet in five.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” Had’s raised voice was followed by an intense muttering. Sariah was pretty sure she caught the word
Mama
. Sounded like another less-than-satisfactory conversation with his mother. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. Sariah had enough experience with the woman to know that she’d much rather it be him than her taking that call. She had her internal voices, but maybe she was getting off easy. Had only had the one external source, but Sariah had no desire to trade places with him.

BOOK: Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series)
3.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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