Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (17 page)

When Sandra nodded silently, she said quietly, “The photograph is one of Angel Monroe and Carolyn Mathers together. They knew each other.”

Tearing her eyes off the road, she quickly leaned over and flicked on the radio, unnerved by the silence in the car. Flicking through the stations she settled on
The Sound,
relaxing as Aerosmith’s ‘Sweet Emotion’ softly filled up the dead silence.

Swallowing hard, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, turning her eyes back onto the stream of traffic. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel in tune to the music, she said, “It gets even worse, Sandra. It wasn’t just a photo of Angel Monroe and Carolyn Mathers together. I was in the photo too. I’m the god damn connection between the two of them. They both
knew
me.”

Sandra’s face reflected her horror. Her body rigid with shock, she tried to comprehend what Gena was telling her. “Are you telling me we’re dealing with a possible serial killer who is targeting your friends?” she asked, concerned. “Is it possible it’s someone you’ve previously put away?”

Gena shrugged, refusing to meet Sandra’s eyes, instead keeping them on the road ahead. “Sandra, I don’t know what we have here. A serial killer, maybe. I want to use the term serial killer loosely though. You know as well as I do these monsters aren’t considered serial killers until they kill three or more people. So far we only know of two. I don’t want to think about this animal killing anyone else I know.”

She took a shaky breath, realizing she was still tapping her fingers nervously against the steering wheel. She took a deep breath, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice when she spoke. “It’s not just my friends Sandra, but my
university
friends.”

“You’re not telling me everything,” Sandra said, suspicion creeping into her voice.

Gena slammed her fist against the steering wheel. “Sandra, there’s another person in the photo. It’s someone who could be his next victim.” Tearing her eyes off the road to finally meet Sandra, she grimaced. “You’re not going to like it when I tell you who it is.”

***

Jase watched the CSU carry out the black body bag, with a sense of forebode. He
knew
her. Although he hadn’t known her for long, he still
knew
her. They’d met through Angel. She’d always been so warm and welcoming. She’d made him feel like a part of their inner circle, even when Jesse Carlisle and Ben Reynolds made him feel like an interloper.

“Dev?”

He turned around to see his former partner, Franklin Delucci, behind him. Shaking his hand firmly, he nodded politely to Delucci’s partner. “Frank.”

“What happened?” Delucci asked, running his eyes over Jase’s blood-spattered clothes.

Jase ran a hand over his unshaven jaw, not sure where to begin. “Hell if I know, Frank. Cynthia and I had plans for breakfast. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in with the spare key she keeps in a pot plant.”

“Hell Dev, this doesn’t look good. You should know that,” Franklin Delucci said, scowling at Jase.

Jase returned the scowl. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

“You know what I mean Jase,” Franklin said calmly, softening his tone and looking his former partner up and down. “First your girlfriend gets murdered, and now this. The media is going to have a field day with this one. A former Homicide Detective linked to two murders.”

Jase ignored the dig, refusing to let Franklin Delucci rattle him, even as he felt a course of anger rushing through him. “What are you trying to say Frank? You think I did this,” he asked incredulously.

Delucci shook his head, seeing the icy fury in Jase’s eyes. He put his hands up in appeal, trying to calm Jase’s nerves. “No, no. I know you, Jase. You were one of the best on the force, “he said, shaking his head sadly. “I’m just saying we have to follow procedure, and you should know better than anyone how bad this looks.”

Jase ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look Frank, like I told you, Cyn and I were supposed to have breakfast together. I knocked. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in. I’ve done it before and didn’t think this time would be any different.”

Pausing he shook his head, retracing the moves he’d made in his head. “The smell hit me first. The smell of blood mixed with ammonia. The smell of bleach was so damn overpowering, Frank. I just knew something wasn’t right. I cleared every room, until I got to the last room – Cyn’s bedroom.”

He stopped, dropping his eyes to his feet, trying to block out the gruesome images filtering through his mind. He’d seen a lot of bloody crime scenes in his time as a Homicide Detective, but nothing had prepared him for the brutality of what he’d seen. “I opened the door Frank, and that’s when I saw her.”

Delucci took Jase in. From his unshaven jaw to the blood spattered t-shirt, jeans and boots – all he was sure were clean when Jase entered the house. “Are you still off the sauce, Dev?”

Jase let out a string of expletives, making Delucci smile. “You know I had to ask, right?”

Jase nodded, glaring at Frank. “And you know I don’t have to like the fact you did.”

Delucci’s smile disappeared. “We’re going to need to take your clothes, Dev,” he said quietly.

Jase nodded in affirmation. “I keep a spare set in the car.” Seeing Delucci’s quick grin, he added, “Old habits die hard.”

Delucci jerked his head towards the ambulance. “Do you know who she is?”

Jase sighed heavily, nodding. “Yeah, I know who she is.” He watched the paramedics close the ambulance doors. Avoiding Delucci’s eyes, he said flatly, “Her name’s Ana, Ana Ferrier. She was a friend of Angel’s.”

Delucci cursed underneath his breath, privately thinking it couldn’t look any worse for Jase than it already did. Delucci’s partner remained silent, observing Jase Devlin’s body language and how he interacted with Delucci. Finally speaking, he turned his gaze to the house and asked the question no one had voiced aloud. “If our victim is this Ana Ferrier, then where the hell is Cynthia Mallory?”

***

Cynthia struggled against the handcuffs holding her firmly to the bed. Tears sliding down her cheeks, she looked around in the darkness for any sign she could recognize where she was being held.

She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. She wondered what had happened to the other woman – Gena’s friend, Ana, a beautiful brunette with stubborn eyes and a feisty attitude. Ana had already been down here when Cynthia first regained consciousness and she’d immediately recognized her from the photo Gena had sitting on her office desk. It was one of Gena and Ana together with a group of friends Cynthia didn’t know.

She closed her eyes, already knowing the answer to her own question. She was dead. She’d heard the screams. The agonizing wails of a woman being tortured. Over and over she’d heard the screams until she hadn’t been able to handle it. She’d let out screams of her own, praying he would take pity on the poor woman he was torturing and kill her.

She’d screamed until she could scream no more. Until her throat was raw, until she wasn’t sure whether it was Ana’s screams she heard or her own.

She opened her eyes. She wondered if anyone knew she was missing yet. She took comfort in the knowledge Jase would wonder why she hadn’t answered the door for their breakfast date. Hopefully he would use the spare key and realize she was missing. The key, she groaned silently. Why on earth had she left the key in such an obvious place? Jase repeatedly warned her to be careful and to keep it in a less conspicuous place, but she didn’t listen. Why hadn’t she listened to him?

She was sleeping when he first entered her bedroom. She didn’t hear a thing. She didn’t know anyone was even in her bedroom until he clamped a rag over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but he was so strong, too strong for her. He overpowered her, and then she blacked out. He’d used chloroform on her, she was sure of it. The effects of it were still in her system. She still felt ill from her exposure to the drug and she fought through both the nausea and dizziness. She needed to remain awake, stay focused, and more importantly, regain her strength. She needed all her strength to escape this madman.

Lifting her head to the sky she began to pray, praying for the first time in many years. She prayed for anything to save her from the pain and suffering she knew he would inflict upon her. For someone to save her from this hell she’d been thrown into. Dropping her head to her chest, her tears began to fall, as the knowledge she may never get out of this alive became very real to her.

***

He watched her in the darkness, smiling at her whispered prayers for help. He stepped forward, his footsteps thunderous in the silent, barren room. His smile widened when she lifted her head, a panicked expression on her face and utter terror in her eyes.

“Did you miss me, love?” he asked, approaching her.

She saw the knife in his hand and struggled against the bonds holding her securely to the bed.

“You can scream. In fact I’d prefer it,” he whispered, touching her face, his breath hot in her ear.

Cynthia shuddered when he forced his mouth onto hers and ran his hand over her body. Grabbing her face with one hand, he forced her to look at him. He smiled coldly at her, “It’s time to get this party started.”

Chapter Eighteen

Gena lifted the marked yellow police tape barricading Cynthia’s apartment, ducking underneath it. Sandra did the same. Exchanging a look of concern, they quickened their place until they were almost running. They were almost back at the Precinct when the news of Cynthia’s disappearance came across the scanner.

Without even thinking twice, Gena automatically turned their car to the West, heading towards Hollywood and Cynthia’s apartment, their only concern finding out what happened to their friend and colleague.

Gena surveyed the street, her eyes darting over the many Police officers present. It was almost as if their whole department had shown up in full force to the crime scene. She half smiled, knowing just how much it showed the respect Cynthia had garnered in the short time she’d worked for the L.A.P.D. Her smile faded when she spotted Jase Devlin, half sitting in and out of a police car.

Nudging Sandra, she silently jerked her head towards him, striding over with Sandra on her heels. “Jase?”

Jase lifted his head from his hands, recognizing the voice softly saying his name. “Gena,” he acknowledged.

“What happened, Jase? What are you doing here?” she asked, dropping onto one knee in front of him.

“I was supposed to have brunch with Cynthia. I knocked, but she didn’t answer,” Jase mumbled, avoiding looking Gena in the eye, afraid of what he would see if he did.

“You were the first on scene?” Sandra’s voice was sharp, taking in his bloodied appearance.

Jase ignored her, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I tried to save her Gena, but she was already dead.”

Gena gave Sandra a panicked look, the shock vibrating through her reflected on Sandra’s face.

“Are you telling us that Cyn...” Sandra began shakily, unable to finish, afraid of what Jase would confirm.

Jase shook his head, lifting it to reveal his pain-stricken expression. “Gena, I’m so god damn sorry. I really did try to save her.”

Gena paled, her stomach twisting with tension. A million different scenarios flooded her mind and she looked from Sandra to Jase again. Standing unsteadily, she turned and ran as fast as she was capable, unaware of anything but getting to Cynthia’s apartment as quickly as possible. Her heart pounding, she took the steps two at a time until she reached the apartment.

Pushing her way past the crime scene unit, she flashed her badge, when an officer tried to stop her from entering the apartment. She strode from room to room searching, desperate, for any indication that her friend might be still alive. Taking in the spotless living room and kitchen, she almost gagged, the smell of bleach overpowering her. A sense of foreboding hit her. The crime scene was one she was already familiar with.

Pausing in the archway between the living room and hallway, she fought for control. Slowly, she began to walk towards two uniforms who stood guarding what she knew had to be the main crime scene. A body was, or had been, in that room.

Flashing her Detective Badge, she smiled when they let her pass through their defense. She stopped in front of the door, before entering, freezing in the archway, at the chaos in the bedroom.

The walls and the floors were sprayed with blood. Her gaze took in the upturned lamp and the torn bloodied bed sheets and her heart slammed into her chest when she saw the message written on the wall. Moving closer, she realized the killer had written it in blood. Reading the message, she turned ash white.

Tick tock, you’re way too late

Tick Tock Detective Evans

You couldn’t save your lovely Ana

Tick tock, you’re wasting time

Tick tock, your Doc is going to die.

“You, god damn, sick son of a bitch,” she whispered, struggling to keep her emotions in check. The feelings of dread and sense of Déjà vu hitting her when she’d walked inside the apartment founded. She was positive this crime was linked to Carolyn and Angel’s unsolved murders. If so, then Stephanie had been right, they were dealing with a serial killer.

Glancing around the room, she shook her head. With trembling hands, she took out her cell phone, lifting it to take a photo of the message on the wall before she quickly snapped photos of the room. Carefully, she studied the crime scene, mentally comparing it to the other two crime scenes. Each crime was unique in its own way, but eerily similar. There was no doubt in her mind they were dealing with the same killer; a killer who was now targeting all her friends.

Her eyes darted around the room, sizing up every little detail and taking in every item unturned. With a frown, she wondered what the message was behind this crime scene. In the past the crime scenes had been almost immaculate. Angel’s crime scene had been clean. Her killer had taken the time to clean up after himself, making sure no trace was left behind. Carolyn Mathers’ body had been dumped, overlooking the Hollywood sign. Again there had been no trace evidence, nothing to indicate who her killer was.