The Frenzy Way (8 page)

“I love you too.”

“I want a house on Long Island.”

“Not a chance. We’re going to Bay Ridge.”

“Brooklyn?” Sighing, she turned off the light.

The clock flashed 12:40 when Mace answered his ringing cell phone. He felt Cheryl stirring beside him as he spoke to Don Gibbons.

“What is it?” Cheryl said as he hung up and climbed out of bed.

“We’ve got another one.”

“The wolves then came, attracted by the stench of so many corpses, in such great numbers that they devoured them all, and even attacked the poor sick Indians in their huts, so that the few healthy ones had enough to do to drive them away.”

—Swedish scientist Peter Kalm describing the aftermath of a smallpox outbreak in 1700s Pennsylvania.

As Sarah Harper opened the door to her apartment, her companion’s arms encircled her waist before she could locate the light switch, and their touch made her tingle with excitement. Her right palm pressed the wall switch, and the overhead light came on. Turning in his arms, she pushed the door shut, then bit his lower lip and giggled.

“Come on,” she said, leading Jaime into her living room. The heels of her boots clacked on the hardwood floor, and she set one hip on the sofa and unzipped them. “My landlady lives right under me. She bitches whenever I don’t wear slippers.”

Jaime let his olive-colored duster slide off his solid frame. He wore brown Italian slacks and a crisp green shirt. She thought he looked good in earth tones.

“What’s she going to say when she hears us fucking?”

Sarah stepped out of her boots. “I don’t care.” She crossed over to an open doorway, conscious that her tight black dress squeezed and shaped her ass.

Jaime picked up a business card from her coffee table. “What’s this?”

Still feeling the effects of the alcohol she had consumed, Sarah narrowed her eyes at the card. Had she left someone’s number out? This was her apartment, her life. If Jaime didn’t like it, too bad. She liked him, and she wanted to please him, but she belonged to no one.

He turned the card toward her, and she saw the blue shield embossed on it.

She smiled with relief. “Some lady cop gave that to me.”

“Did you rob a bank?”

The playful tenor of his voice made her crave him even more. “She was here about Professor Glenzer’s murder.”

Jaime set the card down again. “And you’re one of ’the usual suspects’?”

“Can’t you tell? I’m dangerous.”

Jaime unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Let’s see about that.”

Biting her lower lip, Sarah skipped into her bedroom, where she peeled off her one-piece garment, tossed it aside, and stood naked beside the bed. Jaime’s shadow crossed the wall to her left, and her body trembled with longing. When he entered, she saw that he had already removed his shirt. As she watched him shed his shoes and slacks, she admired his lithe physique. Stepping before her, he cupped her breasts, then pinched her nipples. Her body shuddered.

Feeling wet between her legs, she pulled him onto the bed, where his body lay down on hers, his features masked by darkness. She raised her lips to meet his, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth and bither lips. Unable to control herself, she moaned, shifting her body beneath his. She spread her legs, inviting him inside, and he entered her. Dragging her fingers through his short black hair, she slid her hands down his back, raking his flesh with her long fingernails. His muscles flexed beneath fine body hair, and he explored her sensitive spots with his erection. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, startled by his size.

Astonishment and a touch of alarm crept into her voice. “Oh … Oh,
God!”

She squeezed his buttocks, and she felt the muscles along his back ripple. He rose on his arms and thrust into her with aggressive force. Sarah closed her eyes again, her moans becoming whimpers. Then Jaime rolled her over, facedown on the bed, and jerked her up onto her knees. She arched her back as he reentered her, then rocked against him. His breathing grew heavier, matching her excitement.

With tears forming in her eyes, Sarah sucked in her breath. She felt his fingers dig into her biceps and his knees press against hers. Multiple orgasms shook her one after another. She felt his hot fluid flooding her and she cried out, a rapturous sensation shaping her features. She collapsed on the bed, wet hair splayed out over the pillow and her body covered with a sheen of warm sweat. With his weight still on top of her, she ground her crotch against the bed. He remained inside her, hot and throbbing.

Laughter escaped her lips. “Goddamn, that was good!”

When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes and glanced at the mirror on the wall. She didn’t see him at first, just a black shadow above her. But he was there all right. She felt him thrusting again. Sharp pain lanced her back, as if ten knives had sliced her all at once.

“Hey!”

Then her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and what she saw reflected in the mirror made her scream for her life.

“Christ,” Mace said, standing in the center of the bloodbath. Patty had arrived ahead of him and Willy just after him, but Morrissey had been the first detective on-site. Blood dripped from the ceiling and walls. One half of a glistening skeleton occupied the soaking wet bed. Tissue clung to the furniture. Organs marked the floor. Cool night air blew through the shattered window. Somewhere in the room a pair of excited flies buzzed.

“We were here today,” Patty said in a bewildered voice.

Mace raised his eyebrows.

“One of Glenzer’s students. I was so tired I left my notes back on my desk.”

Mace faced Morrissey, who flipped through his notepad.

“Landlady called forty minutes ago when she heard screams coming from this apartment. As soon as she hung up, she heard glass breaking. When the uniforms busted in, they found what they believe to be the remains of Sarah Harper”—he gestured at the bed—“age twenty-one.”

“Pretty blonde girl,” Willy said in a soft voice.

Patty nodded. “I remember now.”

Mace stared at the wall above the bed. A single word had been scrawled on it in blood.

“‘Nahual,’”
Willy said. “Mexican, I think.”

“Maybe the perp is an illegal werewolf,” Morrissey said. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m Puerto Rican.”

Morrissey rolled his eyes in a
like there’s a difference
manner.

Mace gestured at the bloody writing. “I don’t want anyone from the press to see this. If any of them want to bitch, they know who to contact. I want a media blackout.”

Nodding, Patty scanned the floor. “I don’t see a head.”

Mace called Gibbons on his cell phone. “Don, I need you to do a search on a word for me.… Yes, again. Ready? N-A-H-U-A-L. We think it’s Mexican. There may be several different definitions. I want all of them. Give this to someone who can keep their mouth shut.”

They stood in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the violence radiating from the walls.

“Have any neighbors come forward?” Patty said.

Morrissey snorted. “Right.”

“Everything is just like this morning.”

“Not everything,” Mace said, moving over to the window. “This time the window was broken from the
inside
.”

Joining him, Patty looked for shards of glass on the floor. “You’re right.”

“Front door wasn’t broken,” Morrissey said.

“She knew the perps,” Patty said. “She let them in.”

Mace nodded. “Let’s find that landlady.”

In the downstairs lobby, Morrissey led the detectives to a woman in her late fifties who wore orange slippers and a matching bathrobe spotted with coffee stains. The first officer on the scene stood watching at the front door.

“Mrs. Welsh, these are my colleagues. Do you think you can answer their questions like you did mine?”

Sniffling, the landlady wiped her nose and nodded. “I’ll try.”

Morrissey looked at the other detectives, and Patty said, “Can you tell us anything about Miss Harper’s personal habits?”

Mrs. Welsh’s face grew stern. “I didn’t approve of them.”

Patty cocked one eyebrow. “Why not?”

“She was always bringing different men home with her. I don’t think I ever saw the same face twice.”

“Did you see her with anyone tonight?”

“No, but I heard them on the stairs.”

“How many people did you hear?”

“Just two: Sarah and her date. If you can call him that.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t another person with them?”

Mrs. Welsh’s voice grew indignant. “I’m positive. I’ve lived here for thirty-one years. I know the sound of these stairs”—she pointed at the stairway behind them—“and there were only two people on them.”

“Is it possible Sarah was already upstairs, and two men went up the stairs?”

Mrs. Welsh offered a patronizing smile. “No, dear. I heard Sarah and one man on the stairs. I know the sound of her drunken laughter, just like I know the other sounds she makes. These apartments aren’t soundproof, you know.” She turned to Mace. “If I’d seen them, I would have stopped them. I don’t allow dogs in here.”

Mace raised his eyebrows. “There was a dog in here tonight?”

“There sure as hell was! You should have heard it carrying on while she was screaming. I’ve never heard such barking. It was sickening.”

The detectives exchanged uneasy looks.

They moved outside, where two POs and yellow crime scene tape held back a growing crowd. The number of spectators had doubled since Mace’s arrival. Cameras flashed, and he detected several camcorders pointed in his direction. Across the street, silhouettes pressed against almost every window of a brick building.

Mace toed the shards of glass on the sidewalk. Looking at the broken window above, he saw the full moon shining in the dark sky.

Rodrigo Gomez …

Somewhere behind him, a man howled like a wolf, and the crowd issued a communal laugh.

“Another Full Moon Killer,” Patty said beside him.

Looking at her, he shrugged. “That’s a second-floor window. No fire escape, no tree limb …”

“Just that ledge.”

“Still, a far jump. Especially for a man with a dog.”

“You think the landlady was right about there being just one perp?”

“Hard to imagine. Someone standing in this crowd must have seen something. Use the uniforms to help you round them up, and get statements before it’s too late.”

Morrissey joined them. “Am I the primary on this, Tony?”

“Why? Do you want it?”

“Not on your life.”

“Good, because Patty’s in charge. Help her run the crime scene, and handle the paperwork so she can concentrate on more important matters.”

“Whatever you say.”

Two news vans competed for a parking space at the curb. Mace turned to Patty when Willy walked over. “I’m going home for a few hours. Stay in touch.”