Killing Ways Read online

  ‘Well, maybe his lawyer will be able to enlighten you,’ said Everett.

  ‘Is that a shot across the bow or are you just happy to … be like Gary?’ said Ren.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Everett. ‘But, behave, bad girl. Remember that safety net …’

  Ren smiled. Everett shook his head slowly. One minute later her phone beeped with a text. It was from Everett – no words, just the See No Evil Hear No Evil Speak No Evil monkeys.

  I love emoticons!

  Jonathan Briar did not take long to tell Ren what he left out of his previous endless conversations with law enforcement. He seemed happier to do it in his apartment alone, than in Safe Streets, or his lawyer’s office, or with anyone else.

  ‘So, you and Hope had a threesome two weeks before she was killed …’ said Ren.

  You total fuckwit.

  ‘I didn’t think it was important …’ said Jonathan. ‘We’re, you know, respectable people, I didn’t want this getting out, making it into the newspapers. It was the only time. I know how people can view people’s “lifestyles” … I thought they might judge Hope, judge both of us, not help with the searches. I’ve seen crime documentaries …’

  ‘Then haven’t you also seen how people withholding evidence can screw things up?’ said Ren.

  ‘I know,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’m sorry. But Hope … she was the beautiful kindergarten teacher that everyone fell for. I didn’t want to shatter that illusion – not because of one threesome. Hope seemed so innocent to everyone. I mean … Hope was innocent. This didn’t change that. She was amazing, she was Hope, I loved her, but … she wasn’t, like, perfect, the way everyone thought.’

  ‘I need you to understand, Jonathan, that the media does what the media does,’ said Ren. ‘And we do something entirely different. We think about each victim as a person who did not deserve to die, and their killer as someone who does not deserve to be out on the streets. That’s it. Whether you’re a kindergarten teacher or an internet troll, we’re viewing you the same way.’

  ‘But I figured if you knew stuff about her, then she might seem like some skank to you and you wouldn’t care—’

  ‘That’s absolutely not the case,’ said Ren. ‘I simply don’t see women as skanks.’ Unless they are actively trying to steal my man.

  ‘I thought about telling you, but then there were prostitutes mentioned in the newspapers and I figured you’d, like, put Hope in there with them—’

  ‘Two of the victims were prostitutes, yes,’ said Ren, ‘but they are two of four photos on my wall that I look at every day when I sit at my desk. Each woman is as important as the next.’ She paused. ‘So, how did this threesome happen?’

  ‘We picked up a girl at a bar, we took her back to our apartment, like, I mean, invited her back …’ He shrugged.

  ‘This was at the Irish Hound?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And …?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, that’s it,’ said Jonathan. ‘We were all pretty wasted, we smoked some pot back at the apartment, we had sex, the girl left some time in the middle of the night. I can’t remember much of the details.’

  ‘Did she give you her name?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jonathan. ‘It was a funny name, like Day-something, Daisy maybe? But not Daisy.’

  ‘Can you describe her for me?’ said Ren.

  ‘Kind of raggedy blonde hair, skinny, big eyes, Southern accent, she didn’t tell us where she was from, she was kind of … quiet I guess. Kind of mellow.’

  ‘Was she alone when you met her in the bar?’ said Ren.

  ‘I think so,’ said Jonathan. ‘She said she was from out of town, here on business. But she was kind of kidding, because she didn’t look like a business lady.’

  ‘What happened during the threesome?’ said Ren.

  He looked like he wanted to curl up in a ball.

  ‘Like, what do you mean?’ said Jonathan.

  ‘Did anything strange happen?’ said Ren.

  He shrugged. ‘Not really … I don’t know. I mean, it was my first time having a threesome.’

  Who paid the most attention to whom? ‘Did you have sex with the woman?’

  ‘Depends on what you mean …’

  ‘Did you have penetrative sex?’ said Ren.

  ‘No. She didn’t want me to.’

  ‘Hope didn’t want you to?’ said Ren.

  ‘No – the girl,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘So,’ said Ren, ‘was she paying more attention to Hope than you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Was there any violence involved?’ said Ren.

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did you get talking to the girl in the first place?’ said Ren. ‘Who approached whom?’

  ‘Well, she was at the bar when Hope went up to order drinks. I was in the men’s room. I met a friend of mine; I was gone a long time. I think the girl told Hope her T-shirt was cool; they started talking. When I came back, the girl definitely looked a little pissed, like I was the one intruding … then a while later, she came over to our table, just sat down, without really asking if she could, but we didn’t mind that. We had a couple more drinks …’

  ‘What did you talk about?’ said Ren.

  ‘It was drunken talk, I guess,’ said Jonathan. ‘Music, bands, nights we partied …’ His eyes went wide. ‘Do you think this has something to do with what happened to Hope?’

  ‘We’re taking in as much information as we can,’ said Ren, ‘and we’re focusing on anything out of the ordinary. This girl was a stranger who came into your lives not long before Hope’s disappearance, so it might be significant. We won’t know right away. Is there anything else you can think of?’

  ‘No,’ said Jonathan. He paused. ‘There was something about her that was a bit wild.’

  ‘Could you define that for me?’ said Ren.

  ‘Not really, no.’

  Jesus.

  ‘Did you exchange phone numbers with her?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I don’t know about Hope. I doubt it. Denver PD asked me to look through her cell-phone records to see if there were names or numbers I didn’t recognize. There were a few, but I don’t know if any of them was her.’

  ‘Did you know or get the sense this girl might have had a boyfriend?’ said Ren.

  Jonathan shrugged. ‘She didn’t say she did, and, like I said, she was alone in the bar.’

  ‘OK, well if anything else comes to you about her …’ said Ren.

  Jonathan sat forward. ‘Do you think she could be the killer, a tiny little thing like her? She was like five feet tall.’

  Actually, she sounds like a potential victim.

  Could the killer have scored a two-for-one?

  23

  Carly Raine stood in her back garden, dressed in a white tank and blue denim cut-offs. There was a laundry basket at her bare feet. She was hanging white bedsheets on the washing line, enjoying the cool as they lapped back against her bare arms and legs. It was the highest breeze to rise in weeks, and as soon as she felt it that morning, she thought of doing laundry. And right after that, she thought of how sad and domesticated she was. But she smiled – she loved her life. Partying and dating were behind her – and they had brought her a big handsome husband, and two beautiful children to love all day, every day. Even on Saturday nights, when all over the world people were lighting up bars and dance floors and not having to worry about getting up the next day to be mom to a three-year-old boy and nine-month-old baby girl. Carly Raine never thought she’d see the day. And love that day. Every day.

  He had taken a wrong turn. He had come here for someone else, but he was hidden now at the back of this sheltered property, out of the parked pickup, drawn through the trees by the flapping white sheets. He had seen her at the washing line, her back to him, and he felt the breath being sucked from him, as if by a violent force that wanted to rob lives in one terrible inhalation.

  He was taken home, decades back. And he never
wanted to be taken home – not then, not now. He felt a surge of heat through his body, a powerful rage to push back – to push back on whatever was trying to destroy him.

  He sucked in a huge breath, and made his way, out of sight, to the back door of the house.

  I worry when it goes quiet, thought Carly Raine. But she was smiling. She was sliding a peg down onto the last corner of the last bedsheet. Something in her chest tensed. Her heart. It had gone really, really quiet. She had zoned out. Silence had fallen, and … where was Tyler? Isobel was asleep in her crib upstairs, she knew that. But where was Tyler? He had been running all over the garden. A shiver swept up her back.

  ‘Ty?’ she said. ‘Ty, sweetheart?’

  She whipped back the white sheet. The kitchen door was closed. She knew she had left it open. Her gaze was drawn to the right, where she could see Tyler, standing in the window of the dining area, his hands flat against the glass.

  What’s he doing in there?

  Carly was slow to process the scene.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she screamed.

  There was a man dressed in black, standing behind her son.

  Carly ran for the kitchen door. She realized that the man was now walking through it, without Tyler, but closing the door behind him, coming toward her. She glanced at Tyler, who was screaming now, but it was silent and terrible, and this man was on top of her, knocking her back, sharply onto her back.

  Carly went to scream, and as her mouth opened wide, her attacker’s mouth opened just as wide, and he clamped down on hers. It was a suffocating, terrifying pressure, his tongue plunging down deep, making her gag, making the veins on her neck bulge as she tried to raise her head. He kept on, depriving her of breath, closing off her nostrils, leaving her desperate and coughing for air.

  She never imagined that in a situation like this she could go limp, she always imagined herself fighting, but this was it, this was her moment, and she turned to liquid.

  My babies. My babies. My babies. Help me! Someone!

  He pulled his head up, smiled down at her, waited for her to catch her breath.

  ‘Please don’t do this to me,’ said Carly. ‘Please – my babies. I want to live. I want to live. I really want to live. I’ll do anything you want. And I’ll never tell anyone what you did. I swear to God. I won’t even report this. Just … you can do whatever you want to me. I swear. You can even hurt me. I … just don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. I have my family. I love my family. My friends. I … I just don’t want to die.’

  ‘Well,’ he said slowly, like he was giving it thought. ‘I wouldn’t be doing my job right if you didn’t feel like dying by the end of it, now would I?’

  She let out a choking gasp, and he slapped her hard across the face. She started to shake as she stared into the vast, gaping blackness of his eyes. It was like nothing she had ever seen. It was like a possession. She believed in that. Carly Raine had learned about the devil when she was in Sunday School and she remembered a line she had first heard when she was seven years old: the devil wears coats. And she knew what that meant, even then. The devil can slip inside anyone and make himself one with them. Carly began to pray. She began to pray to Jesus, who she always believed was not just all around her, but inside her heart and soul. Right now, he was rising up to fight this devil off, because the devil never wins. Right? The devil never wins.

  But the devil did win, and in winning, he could soar. He was above her now, above them both, looking down on this perfect scene: woman, naked, hunted, soon to be raped, soon to be lifeless. And he would be there, kneeling behind her, bending over her, filled with life, overflowing with it, as he was taking hers away.

  24

  Ren stood at the stove in her kitchen, preparing a supper of popcorn. The buzzer rang.

  She went to the intercom.

  Whoa: who is this hotness?

  She picked up. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Mrs Bryce?’

  Not so much. ‘This is Ren, yes.’

  ‘I’m Luke – Everett King’s friend. I’m here to put up a curtain rail.’

  Cue porn music. ‘Come on up.’

  Ren opened the door. Luke was six two, dark, frowning, dressed in tight black work gear and boots, muscles everywhere. Tool belt on, tool box in hand.

  Well, hello.

  ‘So,’ he said, all business. ‘You have a curtain that needs mounting.’

  Curtain. ‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘And thank you so much for coming.’

  ‘Pleasure.’

  ‘Straight ahead,’ said Ren.

  He stepped past.

  ‘I’m hoping it’s your easiest job today,’ said Ren, ‘Two screws in a wall …’ Or up against it.

  Shit – the wall.

  ‘Actually,’ said Ren, ‘could you go into the kitchen for a moment? Help yourself to whatever.’

  She ran into the living room and took all the documents off the wall and brought them into her bedroom.

  What a pain in the ass.

  ‘You can come in now,’ she called. As if I’m standing here nekkid.

  Luke put down the toolbox. ‘OK, tell me what I’m doing here.’

  ‘I’d like a curtain rail across that wall,’ said Ren, pointing to the wall opposite the sofa.

  ‘Can I ask why you’re putting a curtain right in front of a wall?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. She waited.

  ‘Are you like this all the time?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘I’m lots of fun. To answer your question, the curtain is a decorative feature.’ Or to hide shiz.

  ‘You want it up to the ceiling?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Let me get you a chair.’

  Ren watched as he worked, specifically the hollow in his lower back when his T-shirt rode up. He was like a bigger version of her ex – confidential informant, Billy Waites – who had a body made to be admired. Ren imagined these men sketched, like concept cars, by the hand of God. Concept men. This guy, Billy Waites, Ben … they were concept men. Gary was too, in his own way, like some sort of intelligent design special …

  Luke jumped down. ‘Do you have the curtain here?’ He gestured to the floor. ‘Like somewhere among the hundred shopping bags?’

  ‘I was running low on …’

  ‘Every product ever made?’ said Luke.

  Ren grabbed the curtain from where it was hanging over the back of the sofa.

  ‘And I took it out of the bag,’ said Ren. ‘I even ironed it.’

  ‘Sounds like that’s rare for you.’

  ‘Of course it is. Jesus.’

  She handed it to him. It was petrol blue with teal backing.

  ‘Aren’t these things usually a little more sheer?’ said Luke.

  Not if you’re covering up the faces of killers and victims, wounds, dump sites … ‘It’s a little fancy,’ said Ren, ‘but I just wanted something pretty to look at.’ Like you, hot, practical man.

  Universe: stop, yet continue, to send concept men my way.

  ‘That looks great,’ said Ren. ‘And super-speedy.’

  ‘That will be one hundred dollars.’

  Whoa.

  ‘I’m kidding. It’s on the house.’

  ‘What do you mean on the house?’

  ‘Any friend of Everett’s …’

  ‘No way – I’m paying you.’

  ‘No, ma’am, you’re absolutely not. Take this up with Everett.’

  ‘Man, this is wrong.’

  He shook his head. ‘It was a pleasure. Good to meet you.’

  ‘You too. I really appreciate this.’ And feel awkward.

  He shook her hand. ‘See you again, hopefully.’

  Ooh …

  Ren closed the door after him and went back into the living room. She pinned everything back up on the wall: row after row of names and images, faces and bodies and wounds. She used the opportunity to streamline everything. She moved things around. She made everything clearer … to her. After three hours, she drew the curtain ac
ross and went to bed.

  The next morning in Safe Streets, she went straight for Everett.

  ‘Well, thank you very much for Luke,’ she said.

  Everett laughed loud, sat back in his chair. ‘I thought you might like him.’

  ‘He wouldn’t let me pay!’

  ‘Suck it up. He’s a good guy.’

  ‘So, so hot,’ said Ren. ‘He’s lucky he made it out in one piece. Only kidding. Don’t tell him I said that. Has he got a girlfriend?’

  ‘You’re a bad girl,’ said Everett. ‘No, he does not have a girlfriend. But I’m sure if he wanted one, he’d pick you.’

  Ren laughed. ‘Oh, you guys.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace,’ said Janine.

  Gary walked into the bullpen.

  ‘Were you home last night?’ he said to Janine.

  ‘Yes – why?’

  ‘You’re one lucky lady,’ said Gary. ‘We have a body and it’s about a mile from your house.’

  Janine was mute.

  ‘No fucking way!’ said Ren.

  ‘Our guy?’ Janine managed to say. ‘Again? In Golden? Are you sure?’

  Gary nodded. ‘Her husband couldn’t get hold of her this morning and called the local PD. Two patrol officers did a welfare check … they found her—’

  ‘In her home?’ said Ren.

  Gary nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘He’s going into people’s homes now?’ said Ren. ‘Fuck that.’

  Gary was gone.

  ‘Make a call,’ said Ren to Janine.

  ‘You bet your ass I will,’ said Janine. She called her former colleague. ‘Logan? It’s Janine. I believe you have a homicide victim. I need you to station the biggest, burliest, most discreet, ominous-looking dudes at that property and tell them to let no one in. Zero. No one’s name is on the list.’

  She listened.

  ‘No, no,’ said Janine, ‘You can do this. Believe. We’ll be there in about forty minutes, and we want to be the next ones in the door, OK?’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

  She listened. ‘Oh, God – children. No. No. OK … see you in a while.’ She put down the phone. ‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘There were two kids in the house at the time. A son, three years old, and a daughter nine months old. Logan heard it is one ugly, ugly scene. The husband arrived home and was literally wrestled to the ground in the driveway. He was absolutely hysterical. He had to be sedated.’