Page 5 of In His Sights

“I know there was a condom, but—”

“But you assume nothing, which is how it should be,” Del interjected. “And yes, penetrative sex took place prior to death.”

“Can you tell if it was nonconsensual?” The bruising on Marius’s wrists and ankles appeared darker against the pale skin.

“Hard to tell.” Del frowned. “Who’s to say rough sex isn’t consensual? There’s some abrasion, some internal bruising, but nonrough sex can create some injury. Whatyouwant to know is if there was an overabundance of injury. There wasn’t. As for the body fluids, I’ll test for GHB, Rohypnol, ketamine, and barbiturates, although we found no GHB in the previous victims.” His gaze flickered to the body on his table. “This one likes his routines.” He frowned again. “So why does he leave the GHB at the scene? He doesn’t leave any trace of the other drugs he uses. Is it some kind of message?”

Gary glanced at the table before meeting Del’s gaze. “I’ll be sure to ask him—once I catch the bastard.”

“WHERE HAVEyou been?” Lewis demanded as soon as Gary walked into their office space.

Gary came to a halt. “One of us had to go talk to Del. Didyouwant to do it?” As if he didn’t know the answer to that one.

“Okay, so I had a weak stomach that one time,” Lewis countered. His mouth went down at the corners. “Travers wants to see us all, ASAP. Riley’s already in there.”

Aw crap.

Gary had a feeling a ton of shit was about to roll downhill, aimed right at him.

Without a word, he followed Lewis to the lieutenant’s corner office. Riley sat facing Travers’s desk, its surface invisible to the eye, hidden beneath an explosion of paper, folders, and coffee cups. Gary gave it a cursory glance before meeting Travers’s stern gaze.

“It may look like the aftermath of a robbery, but trust me, it’s organized chaos. I know where everything is, and I can lay my hand on anything in seconds.”

Gary held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.” He knew better.

“Your expression said enough.” Travers pointed to the empty chairs next to Riley. “Sit.” No sooner had Gary’s ass touched the worn leather seat than Travers launched into his controlled rant. “So now we’ve got five bodies, and we’re no closer to discovering who’s trying to wipe out Boston’s entire gay population.” As usual, Travers didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His clipped tone was sharper than a razor, honed by years of practice.

“Hey, we don’t know—”

Travers cut Riley off. “He’s killed five. Who knows when he’ll stop?” He picked up the folded newspaper from the top of a pile of others and tossed it at Gary. “We made ink again. Only now it’s worse. The press has gotten hold of the stuff about the bondage gear. Great. That’s just great.” He squeezed the words through his teeth.

“I know you’re pissed,” Gary said, “but—”

“Pissed?” Travers glared at Gary. “I’m not pissed. Trust me, when I reach pissed, you’ll know about it. The only thing saving your asses right now is that it hasn’t gotten out yet about his little calling card. We’ve already had three guys stroll in here to confess to the killings, and Lord knows, that’s only the start.”

He sounded as weary as Gary felt, and Gary was bone tired. He’d slept little the previous night. Every time he closed his eyes, two men’s faces swam there: Marius, staring at him before they’d zipped him into the body bag, and Brad.

Except Brad was never far from Gary’s mind. There were occasions when he’d realize with a hot flood of remorse that he hadn’t thought about Brad for a couple of days.

That was when the sweater would come out of the closet.

“We’re exploring every avenue,” Gary ventured. “We’ve pulled all the records—”

“I know what you’re doing. I’ve read the reports.” Travers scraped his fingers through his graying hair. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper than usual. “You’re in here because the chief feels we can be doing more.”

“Hey, if the chief has any suggestions, let’s hear ’em.” Gary folded his arms, his jaw stiff, a dull pain pulsing through his temple.

Travers mimicked his stance. “Actually? He has one. There’s a psychic who’s worked with NYPD and Chicago PD.”

What the fuck?

Gary gaped at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope, not even close. Chief says this guy’s gotten results. So he thinks we should bring him on board. Guy by the name of Dan Porter.”

Lewis snorted. “Hey, we could give my grandmother a call. She reads stuff in tea leaves. Or there’s this woman who claims she can tell the future from dropping asparagus onto the floor and looking at the patterns it makes when it falls. Maybeshecan find our killer. Want me to go to the store for a shit-ton of asparagus?”

Travers glared at him. “I’ll try to remember not to repeat your suggestions the next time I get called into the chief’s office.” He sat in his chair, elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled, his gaze locked on Gary. “I know how it sounds.” His low, earnest voice was clearly an attempt at mollification. “I was as incredulous as you, but I’ve done some checking. Dan Porter appears to be a genuine psychic.”

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