Indivisible (13 page)

“You in for Sue?” Moser asked, arriving for his shift in crisp, pressed uniform, his goatee perfectly encircling his mouth and defining his chin.

“How long do you spend grooming, Moser?”

“It’s not the time; it’s the care you take.” He rubbed his long brown fingers over the facial hair, reminding each one to behave. “Or you can go for the scruffy I-might-be-trouble look.”

“Now you’re talking.” Jonah grinned. “I wash up for banquets, though. And when I work with the kids.”

“I have seen that and been greatly comforted.” Moser looked over his shoulder at the computer. “Still working the raccoons?”

Seeing Liz had kept the raccoons jangling in his mind. Was there someone with a cruel streak taking it out on unsuspecting animals? “You know what bothers me about the raccoons?” Jonah turned. “I see cruelty, but I don’t see rage.”

Moser moved that through his thorough and methodical mind. “You don’t think making two animals tear themselves apart is an act of rage?”

“Maybe. But it seems more calculated.” He leaned back in the creaky seat. Shooting a coyote with a shotgun was either self-defense or sport. But the meticulous effort put into the raccoons felt altogether different. “Think about the process. Two animals captured and drugged.”

“Or drugged, then captured.”

Jonah spread his hands. “Maybe the bait is doped, but it has to be potent enough to keep them out while he cuts them open.”

“Pretty grizzly.”

“But painless.” Jonah tapped his lip with the pencil. “Or they’d be fighting, and he couldn’t cut and sew. Certainly not fastidiously. All those neat stitches.”

“But the pain when they wake up. Delayed gratification can still be rage, only deeper.”

“Very deep. But look at it. The first two were joined superficially, essentially remaining two separate animals. The second pair had four legs between them, organs joined, no longer complete individuals. What’s the motivation?”

“I still think torture fits. It’s just not a kind we’ve seen before.”

Jonah shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Have you looked at the guy who trashed the Half Moon? There could be a connection between weird animal stuff and weird freak-out stuff.”

“Yes, there could.”

“What about Caldwell?”

“A connection?”

“No. Just anything new?”

“Newly’s working it.”

Moser nodded. “Well, I’m here now.” He hung his jacket and cleared his throat. “Anything more from Sue?”

“No. And I need to keep some distance there.”

A call came in, and because Ruth didn’t work weekends, Jonah answered. “Redford Police Department.”

A young voice said, “There’s like … these dead cats.”

Another voice stage-whispered, “Tell him they’re stuck together.”

Jonah took the girls’ names and address. He had the number on caller ID. “You’ve got the station,” he called to Moser. “I’ve got a fresh pair.”

Piper locked up and started along the back of the bakery toward the path, then shrieked when Miles loomed up beside her. He pressed his hands to his ears, eyes wide.

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she said, “What are you doing?”

“I was looking for you.”

Okay, a little creepy. “What for?”

“Are you alone?”

“Urn …”

“I mean is the bakery closed?”

“It’s only open until two. Plus, I sold out of everything.”

His features drooped with disappointment as though she’d stuck fingers in dough and pulled.

“Are you hungry?”

“I hoped you might have something interesting.”

“You did?” If he was conning her, he had the goofiest way of doing it. “I guess I could make something.”

A smile flashed. “That would be good. Very good.”

She hadn’t tried anything new since Sarge had fired her, but there were ingredients in the industrial fridge she’d been meaning to dabble with before the big kibosh. “Come on.” She unlocked the kitchen door and let Miles in. It probably wasn’t smart to be alone with a guy she knew nothing about. But looking into his face, she saw no hint of malice. Tia wasn’t even pressing charges. She said, “Want to watch?”

His face brightened. “Yes. If you wash your hands.”

“You wash yours too.”

“I do. Every hour and whenever necessary.”

“Wouldn’t want the germs to grow.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

She smiled. “It’s called teasing.”

“Oh. It sounds like making fun.”

“But you can see the difference, if you look.”

He gave a slow nod. “I can see the difference.”

“Well, come on then. Let’s make a mess! Kidding.” She laughed, then laughed harder. “I’m
kidding.”

“It was funny.” He nodded. “If you were kidding.”

Thirteen

The number two hath by the heathen been accounted accursed, because it was the first departure from unity.

—JOSEPH TRAPP

J
onah studied the cats, brushing the fur away from the shaved flesh where the stitches had torn out. Once again two of each animal’s limbs had been removed at the shoulder and hip joints. This time the joined pelvises had not disconnected.

He prodded the guts with his pen. He didn’t know much physiology, but it seemed that some of the organs had been connected to serve both animals like two esophaguses—esophagi?—connecting to one stomach. He saw no sign of struggle. Maybe this pair hadn’t survived the surgery. Then why dump them here? Taunting?

Jonah leaned back on his heels. The girls who had called still looked out the upstairs window, though their mom had firmly shooed them inside. He wished they hadn’t seen it, but the house nestled against the mountain, and Jonah guessed the cats had fallen—or been thrown—from the trail above.

This time they were domestic animals, perhaps someone’s pets. That could be considered escalation, the surgical mutations, a refined style of torture. There were documented cases of psychopaths with a medical fetish, Jack the Ripper for one. Maybe the guy imagined himself a surgeon, a Dr. Frankenstein. But why two animals together?

It came back to motivation. Cruelty and killing were rooted in power, the desire to demonstrate ultimate control over a living thing, in this case forcing two creatures to go against their natures or die. There was a very sick mind operating here, and he had no idea where to go with it.

He took out his phone and keyed Liz. She didn’t answer. Well, it was Sunday. She had to have some life. Or else she was avoiding him. He bagged the cats and brought them to the funeral parlor morgue.

“You’re kidding, right?” Morey Bejoe blinked slowly.

“Nope. I need to keep them cold and unmolested until the vet can take a look.”

Morey shook his head, then shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

He handed over the cats and headed back through town, down the main street, ready to be home, to wield a hammer, drill, and saw. Nearing the bakery, he thought about Sarge. Maybe he should visit. It had been a few days. He glanced at the bakery as he passed, then slammed on the brakes, put the truck in reverse, and screeched to a stop outside the window.

Piper sat at the front table with a man who by his size and haircut must be the elusive Miles. He pulled the Bronco to the curb half a block up and got out. He strode over and rattled the door until Piper unlocked it, then pushed in and searched behind her.

“He’s gone. Ran out the back.”

He couldn’t be far. Jonah stalked through the kitchen and pushed open the door. Nothing but dim and quiet. He searched the pantry and the walk-in, then went back to Piper and scowled. “Did you tell him to run?”

“Me? I think you’re cute. He thinks you’re scary.”

Jonah looked at the trays set around the tables. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Baking.”

“With … Miles?”

“He says what he thinks. He’s the perfect judge.”

“He’s violent and destructive.”

“Not intentionally.”

“Does that matter?” he pressed. “One touch can set him off. Then he tears up Sarge’s place and where are we?”

“So it’s about Sarge?” She folded her arms.

“It’s about I want to talk to him.”

“I’m working on that.”

He eyed her, perplexed. What part of dangerous didn’t she get? “What do you mean?”

“I’m working him up to it, little by little.”

“Great progress you’ve made.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Look. He’s nice. He’s funny. I like him.”

“Do you know his last name?”

“He doesn’t want to say.”

“Does that tell you something?”

“So he’s paranoid. He probably has reason to be.” She reached down for a tart. “Try this?”

“Piper. I’m trying to get to the bottom of some troubling things.”

“I know. That dead animal stuff.”

He frowned. “What has Tia told you?”

“Only what you told her. I’ve asked around, but no one else has any idea what’s going on.”

“You’ve asked around?”

“You’re only one guy.”

“I have a department.”

“Sometimes people talk to me.”

He cocked his jaw. “So what, you crook your little finger and some Joe spills his guts about torturing animals?”

“Maybe.” Her eyes were the color of blue cleary marbles and just as guileless.

He moved in close. “Then what? He asks if you want to see his laboratory?” He leaned. “But hey. He might be nice. He might be funny.”

She stepped back, breathing quicker. “I was just trying to help.”

“You can help by not getting in my way.”

Her brows puckered. “Tia said you’d be this way. Guess she knows you pretty well.”

“Then learn from her mistake.” He turned and went out. The last thing he needed was Piper mucking around in his cases. He slammed the Bronco into gear and got halfway out of town before his phone rang. He activated the hands-free. “Yeah.”

“Jonah, can we talk?”

“What’s up, Sue?”

“Will you meet me at the station?”

He cocked his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Of course.” He slowed the Bronco and made a U-turn, heading back the way he didn’t want to go. He arrived before Sue and waited in his office, hoping she wasn’t tendering her resignation. When she came in, he went around and sat on the edge of his desk. “What’s up?” He’d seen her mad, but this was different.

“You were right. Sam’s passing the blame.”

“I thought he might.”

“I mean, come on. My mother? She weighs ninety pounds. And it’s not just about Eli, Jonah.” She looked away. “I was going to tell you—”

“I know.”

She turned back. “You know I’m pregnant?”

“Congratulations.”

She looked down at the floor, then back. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

He smiled.

“I don’t know how I’ll make it with another one on the way without Sam’s income. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Not so much.”

She chewed the cuticle of her left index finger, then realized it and lowered her hand. When she’d first started on the job, in the interest of professionalism, he’d suggested she break that habit. She mostly had.

“So this is what I know. There’s a man named Greggor. I don’t know if it’s first, last, or nickname.” She gave him what sketchy impressions she had, enough to have someone check it out. “That’s all I know, and most of it I only suspect.”

“It’s a starting point.”

She looked down. “He should not have messed with my child.”

“Rule number one.”

“I know it’s wrong, but I wouldn’t have turned him in.”

“I know.”

“I want my son back.”

“You’ll get him.”

She drew a breath. “You said you’d vouch for me.”

“I will.”

She nodded. “How did you know?”

“That you were pregnant?”

“That Sam would turn on me.” She raised her eyes.

“Takes a certain kind of man to hurt a child.”

“He’s that kind of man?”

Jonah held her eyes.

Tia looked around the circle of graying women. One was widowed, one divorced, all with kids mostly grown. She was younger than some by fifteen years and others by more than thirty. Although she cherished each one, if she’d been told her circle of friends at twenty-seven would be these older women, she’d have laughed long and hard.

First, she’d have pointed out, they would not approve of her. She was too wayward, too headstrong. They had little in common, and not one could claim to need salvation as she had. Not that they knew—the details anyway. They had lived quiet, pious lives, reached their middle and elder years with grace. How else could she explain their loveliness?

While there were women her age without kids or permanent relationships in Redford, within the Worship Chapel community she was an anomaly. The question came around to her, and she read the answer she had written the night before. Did they realize how vulnerable she made herself each time she shared an insight, how she slaved over each comment, leaving no opening for criticism?

One of the other women nodded. “Very thoughtful, Tia. Wanda?”

Only one had heard her story in all its ugliness, and she watched mildly from across the table as Tia rested her hands on the small notebook from which she’d read. Carolyn gave her a soft smile. Not a motherly smile—thank God. More otherworldly.

To spare Reba humiliation, her mother had not revealed the damning act to the multitudes. Tia could have kept the secret herself, but she had laid it before Carolyn as proof that she should not be admitted into any fellowship. Carolyn had insisted she was wrong.
“There is no stain that cannot be washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

To have these women look at her without condemnation, she attended services, served on committees, came to studies, kept her vow, a vow she’d made before God in Carolyn’s presence. She needed what they had to give, these friends and mentors. She would not disappoint.

“Will you read the next passage?” Carolyn asked.

Tia read, her voice clear, her heart full. She wanted it all to be true. Their discussion lasted two hours. When they had cleared the brownie plates and teacups, gathered their study materials and coats, Carolyn murmured, “Hold on a minute, okay?”

Feeling as though she’d been retained by a teacher for misbehavior, Tia hung back. The day had turned cold, and Carolyn shut the door after the last of the other ladies left. “You seem pensive today.”

“Do I?”

“Is your leg hurting?”

“A lot, surprisingly.” She leaned on the inner door frame to shift her weight. “Makes me realize I’m not so tough after all.”

Carolyn smiled. “Something we all need from time to time. How’s the Hopeline?”

“Five or six calls a week. Mostly at night.”

“It’s been three years?”

“Almost four.”

“Repeats?”

“I try not to notice.”

“We could be counting that time toward your license.”

“I know.”

“I hate to see you wasting your education. You’d do a lot of good with a counseling practice.”

Tia shrugged. “For now, the Hopeline is enough.”

Carolyn hesitated, then said, “Rosemary saw the police chief take you home last night.”

Tia’s smile faded. “I took a Percocet, and it knocked me out. Piper got worried and called him.”

After a while, Carolyn nodded. “If you ever need to talk …”

“Thanks. I will.”

“Friends can help.”

Something she was only now learning. She had burned out her childhood friends with her energetic nature. Or else their parents had thought her a bad influence. It was laughable the things people had thought she’d done. Cheating, vandalism, scoring boys.

She was one of the smartest kids in the school. Why would she cheat? The vandalism accusation had angered her because she didn’t mess up people’s things. They had no proof to make it stick, so she hadn’t been punished, but the suspicion remained. And boys? Maybe if she had not been so hung up on …

She sighed. “I’m okay, Carolyn, just numbed by the pain meds.”

“Of course. I’m so glad you came anyway.”

It was expected, wasn’t it? She’d committed to the group. “Me too.”

They hugged. Tia went out.

Mary Carson was waiting outside. “I noticed that you walked over.”

Tia nodded. “I thought walking it out might help.”

“Now you know better. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Tia smiled. There were worse things to have in her life than kind, older women.

Piper looked up from polishing the rocker when Tia limped into the house and sank down on the settee with pain creasing her brow. “Would you light the candles on the mantel, Piper? Turn the MP3 on low.”

She did. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t believe a bruise can be this big an issue.”

“A bone contusion is more than a bruise.”

“Still.”

“You’re usually so fit. You’re not used to something keeping you down.”

“I guess.” What had really thrown her was Carolyn and Rosemary knowing about Jonah. He’d only taken her home, but she could guess how it looked, him holding her arm, cupping her face. Their ardent dialogue.

She closed her eyes as strains of Coldplay softened the mood. “So tell me about your day.”

Piper settled onto the settee. “Well, it turns out Sunday’s pretty busy. Sarge was missing the church crowd.”

“But you don’t get a day off.”

She shrugged. “If I’m not working, I …”

“Feel like you’re taking advantage of someone?”

Piper cocked her head. “Lame, isn’t it?”

“Not considering your background. It’s compensation.”

Piper pulled her knees to her chest. “After I closed, Miles came by. I decided to use up the ingredients I’d gotten to experiment with before Sarge freaked out and fired me. We baked up a whole bunch of different things.”

Tia frowned. “You know he’s not right.”

“Maybe, but tell him to mince and he minces.”

Tia laughed.

“Anyway we were sitting down, judging the creations when the chief saw us through the window.”