LincolnI put the MO of my killer into the UCR database. I know there might be look-alikes that will create even more work. At this point anything is worth a try, and sleep is highly overrated.Dan, an older cop set for retirement within the next six months, sticks his head in my office right before I bail from my chair to hit the street again. “Good morning, Detective Street. You have a minute?”Dan’s old school. He uses titles, so I give him the same back. “Sure, Officer Wilder, have a seat. I can spare a few minutes.” He sits down in front of me and steeples his fingers on my desk. “I’m light duty for another week and heard you could use some leg work. My supervisor okayed it as long as I can partner up. That is if you want me?”He’s the answer to my prayers. “I need you desperately. Let’s go talk to my sergeant about getting you some help.” He follows me to Detective Sergeant Sadoski’s door. I knock once and enter. “You got a minute, Sarg?” I ask.He glances up from his computer s
LincolnThe pizza’s good and the company better.“He never hit me. If he had, I’d have ended it then and there and called the police. That shit doesn’t go over with me.” Shelby steals an olive off my slice of pizza. “Mark solves problems by yelling louder than anyone else in the room or at least tries to. I wasted a long time thinking he’d change. He called me two days ago and said he was taking anger management classes. He just wanted to talk. His idea of talking was trying to get back together. He wasn’t raising his voice, but he was being rather insistent even after I told him to leave.”“He doesn’t come back,” I say with finality. “If he does, you call me immediately.”She salutes me and takes a bite of her pizza. Sauce sticks to the side of her mouth and I’m not quick enough to lick it off before she grabs her napkin. “The look in your eyes is scaring me,” she breathes. My mouth is an inch from hers.I take her hand, bring it to my lips, and bite the end of her finger. Her eyes s
LincolnI’m at my desk a little after four in the afternoon when Donna, one of the records clerks, buzzes my office phone. “I’ve got a Detective Smith from Shreveport, Louisiana, on the line for you.”“Put him through,” I tell her. I blink a few times trying to clear my vision after staring at the computer screen for the past twenty minutes while I work on the latest report. I’m not a fan of autopsies like I was in my younger days. Too much blood and violence. All I got from watching Kurtis work was a sense that this is one sick motherfucker.The phone makes a clicking noise. “Is this Detective Street?” a gruff voice asks.“Speaking.”“I’ve got a look-alike hit on the info you put in UCI.” I sit up straighter and my adrenaline immediately picks up. “Five kills beginning three years ago. Twelve months from first to last and then they stopped. All prostitutes with their throats slit and multiple knife wounds to the torso.”“I’ve got three now, one from early this morning. Did you have a
LincolnI’m almost asleep, but something’s bothering me. I get up and walk to the living room. I peer out the front window and stare sleepily at the empty space where Shelby’s car should be. Son of a bitch. She’s out doing her do-good bullshit. I’m instantly awake and angry. Also hell of worried.I’m driving to Central Avenue within ten minutes. It’s eleven thirty when I hit the section of town known for fulfilling every man’s desire if he’s willing to pay. These aren’t the high-dollar escorts by any means. Most of the ladies here have drug habits and other assorted problems.My first pass is non-productive. On the second, I notice a commotion on my right and crane my neck just in time to see Shelby fly backward and land on her ass. I pull my truck to the side of the road and charge out the door.A large woman dressed in skintight spandex with more hanging out than can be controlled by the unforgiving material is standing over Shelby with her hands at her waist.“I tol’ you get lost.
Lincoln“Hey, sleepyhead,” Shelby nudges me. “I need to take Daisy for a run. You coming?”I can’t even dignify her with an answer. I peer at the bedside clock, which reads five in the morning, tug the pillow Shelby used last night over my head, and fall back to sleep with Shelby’s soft laughter floating through the room.I wake up to the smell of bacon. The clock tells me it’s a few minutes after seven. Even with my late-night adventure, I feel refreshed. I jump in the shower and then dress and present myself in the kitchen within ten minutes. Shelby, in her running clothes, is sitting on my kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand. I walk over, take the coffee, and set it aside. Her lips are inviting and warm. She tastes of coffee and Shelby, and I think I could do this every morning for the rest of my life.Just. Like. This.I deepen the kiss and run my fingers under her shirt and beneath her bra. Her nipples are stiff peaks caused by the piercings. Always standing at perfect a
LincolnAs I’m leaving my office for the courthouse, my sergeant calls and asks me to come to his office. I’m in a hurry but take time to give him the rundown on the previous murders in Louisiana. And though it’s a very long shot, I tell him about the prostitute I plan to work a composite sketch with. What was once the glamorous job of an actual artist can now be done on a computer by any detective who’s been trained. A few years ago, I went to a free class taught by the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children to receive my certification. The department bought the software and it’s standard for us to do our own computer-generated photos now. They’re accurate as hell but like I said, a long shot.“I’ve spoken to Officer Wilder’s supervisor and we’re assigning him to assist you for the next two weeks.”I don’t reiterate that this guy’s timeline could include several murders in two weeks. Before that happens, I’ll make the call to the FBI myself. “Thank you, sir. Wilder’s a good
LincolnSeveral hours go by before I have the entire story. I didn’t take a knife off Donald Terry when I searched him. The knife was discovered on Shelby’s coffee table. Blood surged through my veins when I saw it. All I could picture was Shelby’s bloody and lifeless body.I sent two uniformed officers to accompany Terry to the hospital. One called an hour later while I was working with the crime scene techs and told me Terry had tendon damage that will eventually require surgery. Terry is medically cleared to go to jail.Shelby was driven to another hospital to be checked out. She wasn’t happy but I sent a text to her phone from across the room where we were surrounded by officers and evidence techs.Go, for me. PLEASE!She’s now wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which I retrieved from her room. She’s not acting like the crazy wild woman I care so much about and it guts me. She glances down at her phone then turns my way with a forlorn look before walking out the door. A female patrol of
LincolnI have forty-eight hours to deliver my report to the district attorney’s office. They press the formal charges. The next step will be presenting my case to the Grand Jury so they can decide if I have enough evidence to move forward. If I don’t have my report in, Terry walks and the process starts over while he’s a free man.With report and case file in hand, I carry it into the district attorney’s office with time to spare. I bring the entire case file to answer additional questions while the report is reviewed.It goes smoothly. I head to JFCR offices to pick up Shelby. She insisted on going into work and having a normal day. I didn’t tell her it would be far from normal with the media blasting what happened.She looks frazzled and relieved when I walk through the front door. She grabs her purse and leaves a group of people surrounding her desk. “I need to get out of here,” she whispers. I place my arm around her waist and we walk out. “My parents are requesting us at their h