Wolf Protector (14 page)

He frowned, his eyes back on the road. “But then why did you react that way when he left?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but it scares the shit out of me. I’m going to ask Brock to question him again. See what he gets from the kid.”

There was no way she was going to take a chance at being wrong. She’d just opened her water bottle and taken a sip when her cell phone rang. Brock.

“Hi, Brock.” Her gut fisted. Something told her whatever he was going to say would not be good.

“We have another victim.”

Shit.

“Melanie Lee. Same as the other girls. We’re headed to the crime scene now, meet us there.”

He rattled off the address.

“Do we know how long ago this one was killed?” She looked over at Trent. He glanced her way. His jaw clenched, and his hold on the wheel tightened to a white-knuckle grip.

“Not yet. She was found about an hour ago. The medical examiner is there now. I need you to look at her,” he said. “There won’t be any touching today, Erica. Do you understand?”

“I understand. We’re on our way.” She shut off the cell phone and gave Trent the address.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as they sped toward the crime scene.

“This isn’t good.” She bit her lip and frowned. “I have the feeling this man is playing with us. Dangling the bodies one after the other to see if we can figure it out.”

“What do you think he knows that we don’t?”

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling what he knows is what will unlock this case.”

She didn’t like being played with. These were human beings he’d killed, and she’d be damned if she allowed him to continue using those young women as toys in his sick game.

Brock and Ramirez were already at the crime scene when they arrived. Erica and Trent rushed out of the Jeep and darted past the police. Yellow tape and a few officers blocked off the entrance to the alley where they body had been dumped.

She stood transfixed, staring at the body of the young Asian woman. The urge to cry punched her in the chest. Her stomach turned. Bile rose as she scanned the mutilated torso. This girl had the same wounds on her naked body as the others but some extras over her face and neck. There were a lot more cuts and stab wounds on Melanie than on Gina. Lisa had only had the word carved into her stomach. Clearly the killer was getting into the swing of things and spreading his wings with each victim. Crouched down, she examined the girl’s face in more detail, making sure not to touch anything. The scent of bleach drifted off the body when she lowered her head to study her wounds.

“Has the medical examiner arrived?” She jerked her face up when a pair of feet stopped by Melanie’s head. It was Brock.

He pressed a button to end the call he’d been on.

“Yeah, the body is going to be moved to the hospital around the corner. I need information ASAP, and this is the closest location she can do an examination.”

She nodded. Urgency ate at her. For every second they wasted, there was another life hanging in the balance. The killer wouldn’t stop. He was having fun. She inspected the young girl’s pale skin, dark hair, and bloody nails. Another fighter. It seemed that while his ultimate goal was to kill them, he got some kick out of hurting them. Sick bastard.

“Did you have any luck with the professor?” Trent asked.

Erica stood. Brock shook his head and grimaced down at the body in front of them. “We questioned him, but he mentioned that Gina was only his babysitter and admitted to having had an affair with Lisa. Once his wife found out they broke things off.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “He mentioned Lisa wasn’t very torn up about cutting things short. She always had a multitude of guys she dated.”

“But what about his whereabouts during the approximate times of death? Did he have anything to say about that?” Erica strained to get the words out. She wanted to scream in frustration. This case was going nowhere.

“Actually, he has an airtight alibi. He’s been out of the country for almost four weeks, visiting family. He just returned two days ago. There’s been a different professor doing his lectures in the meantime.”

Great. Just what they needed, another dead-end.

She turned to Trent and caught him scrutinizing her. “Let’s hope we have better luck with Richard Thompson and Anthony Holmes.”

Trent’s scowl intensified. She frowned, wondering what was wrong. She glanced at her hands, which was what he was staring at. That’s when she realized he’d been studying her fisted hands. In order to calm down, she found the clenching and unclenching of her hands, combined with deep breathing techniques, helped her relax. At least that’s what the paranormal unit psychiatrist had told her. So many victims in such a short span of time were playing havoc with her nerves. Just thinking of how much the victims had suffered made her angry.

* * *

Erica shifted from one foot to the other while the medical examiner went through the physical inspection of the body. Her hands itched to touch the victim, but with Trent on one side and Brock on the other, watching her like she might steal a body part, she decided to wait.

“Same as the others. This one died approximately three days ago,” said the older woman looking at the body. The fiftyish, dark-haired medical examiner wore a white lab coat and gloves. She’d been recording the wounds, stating in a clear and concise manner all the traumas the victim had suffered.

“Was she reported missing?” Erica asked. The ME was poking around the body while they spoke.

“No,” Brock replied. “From what we were told she’d scheduled to take ten days off, and no one had known she didn’t make it to her family. Apparently they weren’t expecting her for a few days anyway.”

“So you’re saying nobody knew that she had been missing?” Disbelief colored her words.

“I’ve got something here,” the medical examiner said, calling their joint attention. In quiet suspense, they strode forward. She used a pair of long tweezers to pull out a piece of paper from the victim’s throat. Erica held her breath. The ME unfolded the paper.

“What does it say?” Trent asked.

“She’s not the last,” the ME said, reading from the paper.

Erica’s heart quaked. Blood froze in her veins, and a shudder racked her body. The killer wasn’t stopping, but she already knew that.

“Give me the paper.” She held her hand.

“No!” Both Brock and Trent yelled at once.

“Look…” She lowered her voice so that the ME wouldn’t hear her. “ I need to touch it to see if I can see him. We don’t have time to waste.”

She rushed around both men. Only a step away from grasping the tiny note, Trent wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her back.

“Are you out of your mind, woman?” He dropped his head by her ear, his words a low murmur. “I know what you’re trying to do. This is not the way to do it. We’ll find something that belongs to the victim and see if you get any clue that way, but you’re not touching something that was inside that dead girl’s mouth. You know the rules. That is evidence and you can’t contaminate it.”

She wanted to argue, complain that they were running out of time, but what he said was the truth. Panic built inside her at breakneck speed.

“We should get this note analyzed by a handwriting expert.” Brock’s voice jerked her back to the present. “Villa, you and Buchanan question Richard Thompson. Go now. I will look into getting information on Anthony Holmes. After you speak to him we’ll go to Melanie Lee’s dorm room.” He gave Erica one of his do-not-argue-with-me looks. “We’ll let you touch something of hers, but I want to be there. There’s not going to be any more unnecessary risks to your health. Do you understand?”

She nodded, torn over having to wait. “When you visit Anthony Holmes, see Derek too. I don’t know about him. I had a strange reaction when he was ready to leave.”

Brock nodded. Trent followed her out of the building. God, she hoped she got something from Richard Thompson.

Trent marched to the Jeep beside her. Once inside she turned to look at him, knowing he’d been dying to say something. “OK, what is it?”

She thought he might be ready to yell at her over what she had almost done, and her hackles rose. But instead he cupped her face and kissed her on the lips.

“I know it’s driving you crazy to see all these dead girls and not be able to figure out who did it.” He slid his thumb over her jaw, back and forth. “Especially since you have to see what you do all the time, but you need to remember that in order to find this guy you have to stay ahead of him. You can’t do something that will muddle your brain and stop you from thinking clearly. Or something that will jeopardize the case or the evidence.”

Her heartbeat quickened to a loud gallop in her chest. He shifted, ready to sit back on his seat, when she gripped his T-shirt. She yanked him back toward her. Why she did it, she didn’t know. She kissed him with all the pent-up desire she’d been feeling for him, with all the frustration she knew filled her brain. He just sat there and drank it all in. It was the most therapeutic kiss of her entire life.

Anger and frustration melted away with the soft swipes of his tongue over hers. His hands cupped her face and gently caressed her cheeks. The kiss went from hard and fast to slow and seductive in the blink of an eye. She sighed into the softer kiss. Emotions ran rampant inside her, unlocking doors that she’d never opened for any other man.

Trent propelled back, away from her. His features softened into a warm smile, a smile that spoke of a lot of things, all of which made it hard for her to swallow. But he didn’t say any more, just sat back and started driving, leaving her to try and figure out what the hell she was going to do about him. Emotions were messy. Did she want to try? Was it possible he wanted something long-term? A soft sigh escaped her. She wouldn’t dwell on that now there was a killer to catch.

* * *

They had just parked by Richard Thompson’s apartment building when Erica’s phone rang.

“Villa.” She didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Hey, it’s Donovan.”

Erica glanced at her phone’s screen again. “This isn’t your usual number, Donovan.”

Her teammate laughed. “I know. I’m testing a new phone and decided to try it on you. Listen, I’m calling to tell you about Richard Thompson. Brock said you guys were going to interview him.”

She glanced up at the five-story building. If she went by its appearance, Richard Thompson was another wealthy boy. “Yeah, we’re outside his apartment building now.”

“Ok, well you guys be careful. He’s a known marijuana dealer and will most likely try to run if he thinks you’re there to arrest him.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll let Trent know, and we’ll be on guard.” She shut off the phone. Unsnapping her holster, she pulled out her gun. Trent did the same. “Thompson is a drug dealer, which is probably why everyone in the school is friends with him on Facebook.” One tug on the door handle and she was able to hop out of the Jeep. Moments later Trent rushed around the vehicle, catching up with her before heading to the entrance, each gripping their weapons.

Trent nodded as they made their way into the building. “Makes sense. There’s nobody that popular unless something else is in the mix.” He grinned and winked at her. “At least, guys aren’t usually that popular.”

Opting for the stairs, since Thompson lived in the second level, they took note of the exits. When they reached Thompson’s door, Erica pulled her tank top low, until it showed a major amount of cleavage. Then she knocked, arching her back to push her breasts out some more. She knew Trent watched her, so she smiled slyly at him and pursed her lips in an air kiss. A moment later the kid known as Thompson opened the door, and his gaze immediately dropped down to Erica’s rack.

“Hi,” she whispered, moving a foot to block the door from getting closed. But it was unnecessary; the kid’s eyes were stuck on her breasts. “Are you Ricky?”

“Who’s…ah, who’s asking?” His eyes hadn’t moved up from her boobs. She could have turned out to be a man, and he wouldn’t have noticed. “My friend Melissa spoke about him to me.” Her voice lowered. “She told me I could come see him, and he could get me something to help me relax.” She hoped her voice sounded sexy enough.

Thompson opened the door a little wider to get a better look at her. Erica and Trent used that moment to hold the door open, though neither attempted to force their way into the apartment.

“Hey! What the—”

“You have two choices, kid. You talk to us now, or we can wait here and call the nice guys from Narcotics to come join in the party.”

The kid let go of the door, his eyes darting all over the place as if ready to make a run for it.

Before he had a chance to move a muscle, Trent had him by the neck. He shoved him further into the apartment and down on a chair.

“What the hell do you want?” Thompson yelled, fighting Trent’s grip. Unfortunately for him, Trent was big, strong, and unfazed by his escape attempts.

Trent snarled at Thompson. “Look, we have some questions. We’re not here about your little operation. But like I said, if you prefer we can sit here and wait for Narcotics to come over and have a nice chat with you…”

The kid gave a quick shake of his head.

“I thought you’d see it my way. We need to know about some murder victims you were acquainted with. And we need to ask you some questions to see what you know and also rule you out as a suspect. Can you sit there without trying to leave?”

Thompson nodded and glanced up at Erica with big, frightened eyes. She stepped toward him, holding out her hand.

“I’m agent Villa, FBI.” By the looks of him she knew he wasn’t the killer, but she needed to make sure.

The kid hesitated for a moment, but Trent’s gun still pointing his way must have intimidated him enough to move. Thompson lifted a shaky hand and enveloped hers. Other than the kid having a very cold skin, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. She wanted to yell in frustration.

“Did you know Lisa Summers, Gina Torres, and Melanie Lee?” She sat across from Thompson.

Thompson gulped. It shocked her to see that the popular dealer resembled a snotty little kid. If he was one hundred pounds she’d be shocked.