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Michael had disappeared. A cold breeze floated through the room. She looked at the open window and groaned. While her office was only on the second story, the fact he’d jumped out the window meant he was close to the edge. She was going to have to think seriously about having him committed, even for further evaluation.
I’ve done things. Bad things…
“Jesus.” She walked toward the banks of windows, peering outside. There was no sign of him. She gazed up at the full moon and for a few seconds could swear she saw her mystery lover watching her from the parking lot.
“You need wine.” The sound of her voice wasn’t comforting.
Only after closing and locking the window did she breathe a sigh of relief, but terror remained, gorging like a hunger feeding on her very soul.
Soon you’re going to belong to me…
CHAPTER 3
Detective Montana Givens glared at his phone, willing the call to come through. The doctor had to have answers. Destiny Blade was the single connection to the ridiculous bullshit he was dealing with. This wasn’t a case. This was a massacre.
He needed a break, a clue of any freaking kind. After a few seconds he tossed down his phone, exhaling as he sat back in his seat. He swirled in his chair before gazing down at the blood and gore. The pictures called to him and he was unable to take his eyes off the horrors presented in vicious fashion. “Fucker.” He’d seen plenty of shit in his day, murderers torturing their victims in indescribable methods. This… This was something entirely different.
He pressed his finger over the vivid image flashing across the screen on his iPad, moving from one to the next. The photographs told no lies. In his mind, he knew the kills were purposeful and meant to entice the police department, if not the Press. There was no fucking way he was going to allow the blatant overtures toward a madman out into the public. Still, television crews would no doubt be clamoring for additional information, the gorier the better.
The last few nights had been a whirlwind of chasing his tail. Various ‘sources’ had turned out to be duds and little else. Or they were lying. Or afraid. He had zero clues why someone had homed in on patrons of the night scene, but the concept was clear. Those involved in the BDSM community were being specifically targeted, ceremoniously hunted down and slaughtered. There was no other word for the carnage splashed in detail. He feared Richmond had a monster on their hands.
“Were you able to get the doctor on the phone?”
He glanced at his partner of ten years, an intense craving for his recently ceased bad habit furrowing into his gut. Damn, he needed a cigarette. Grant Miller’s voice was raspy, the tone husky from too many late-night cigarettes and booze, enough to drown out the voices that no doubt remained. His partner generally took their ridiculous cases in stride. This particular investigation had thrown them both into their own personal nightmares. “Unavailable.”
“You need to make her available,” Grant stated as he sat on the edge of Montana’s desk.
“Yeah, I know. I have her address. I plan on going by her place after the shift.” As if they worked a typical nine to five. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an actual day off. No wonder his first two marriages had ended in divorce after only three or so years. Few women could stand for his long hours, constant need to look over his shoulder and danger infused in every aspect of his life.
“I talked to the medical examiner. Death by strangulation is the official statement.”
Montana flipped to another picture, studying the cuts and bruises encapsulating every inch of the victim’s skin. “After hours or days of sheer torture.”
“True. Crandell mentioned blood loss and disembowelment. What a horrific way to die.”
“The poor fucker was alive during every moment.”
“Yep. Monsters live amongst us.” Grant shook his head. “The world is going to Hell in a hand basket.”
“Society and humanity have been high jacked by those craving their fifteen minutes of fame.” Entitlement. Montana loathed the concept. He remained quiet as he studied the photos. There was a single connection with the two deaths, Dr. Destiny Blade. “The records for the two patients won’t be unsealed that easily. If ever.” He hated the bullshit around doctor-patient confidentiality. Walter Crandell was methodical in his examinations, but the mental piece was needed to draw any realistic conclusions as to reason – if there were any. Maybe the victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time. His cop instinct told him otherwise. They wouldn’t be able to keep the story from the press much longer.
“They’re dead. What reason will she have to keep them under doctor patient confidentiality?” Grant huffed.
“I don’t know, but I doubt she’s going to want to divulge basic conversations. I’m not certain they’ll matter anyway. There is no other connection between the two victims. Mark Ramos, for all practical purposes, was a homebody, preferring gardening to going out into the party zone, especially BDSM.”
“Hey, we all have our kinks!”
Montana shot him a look. “Generally, men in their late fifties have passed the midlife crises point. Besides, he had a solid reputation in town given his position as a professor at the University of Richmond teaching criminology. He had no record, not even a parking ticket.”
“And you and I know men grow bored. He’d been divorced for what, ten years?”
“Twelve. So he was a loner. That doesn’t mean he’s going to automatically gravitate towards the dark and kinky side of sex.” His skin itched. His head was pounding. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours attempting to learn about the elusive world of secretive BDSM clubs. No one wanted to talk to a detective, even when one of their own had been brutally murdered. “His father was a Sergeant in the department. He was a police officer for three years before deciding to become a teacher.”
“Yeah? So his dad was a cop. Shit, I don’t know. The lure of easy sex, a few whips and chains seems pretty damn attractive to me,” Grant scoffed. He finished his cup of coffee and groaned. “It’s time for a beer. Why don’t we go grab a couple? We can’t do anything more until the official statement is released. Besides, the crime scene investigators haven’t completed detailing the last kill.”
Montana shook his head. “I’m hoping Dr. Blade will return my call sooner versus later. I’d like to interview her so I can finish my report.”
“You may be dreaming, dude, but I hear you.”
