Killing Ways Read online

  Ben, you angel. You know. You said nothing. You have faith.

  She put the lid back on the box and slid it under the bed.

  But it’s misplaced.

  I’m sorry.

  I can’t afford to be numb. I need a sharp mind, I need to solve things, make connections, have clarity. I need to find a killer.

  She went downstairs.

  Gary is off the fucking rails.

  She opened a bottle of champagne.

  This will soothe me, though. And bring me enlightenment.

  She pulled back the curtain, sat down on the sofa, and stared at the wall. Over the next hour and a half, she finished the bottle. Then she had two glasses of white wine. She woke up with a start on the sofa at five a.m.

  Gary is so off the rails.

  29

  Ren was at her desk the next morning when a call came through from reception. She picked up.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a woman, tentative, her voice trembling.

  ‘Yes? This is Special Agent Ren Bryce – how can I help you?’

  ‘Are you working on the serial killer case?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I saw this … this man in the woods out near where Stephanie Wingerter was found,’ said the woman.

  ‘OK …’ said Ren.

  ‘A male, five eleven, I guess. Hairless.’

  Hairless: the earnestness in her delivery.

  Ren wrestled the smile out of her voice. ‘And when did you see him, ma’am?’

  ‘It would have been about three months back – I’m only calling now because of all the recent appeals to the public in the media on account of the investigation going nowhere …’

  Thanks.

  ‘So I did a few internet searches,’ said the caller, ‘and I saw that Stephanie Wingerter was found at Devil’s Head. I can’t remember the exact date I was there, but it was around that time.’

  ‘Could you describe the man you saw, please?’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, I say man, but, really, it was a creature I saw.’

  Here we go.

  ‘Looked like an alien,’ said the woman.

  ‘An alien …’ Ren nodded. She drew an alien with antennae like My Favorite Martian, standing beside a mountain. She drew some trees. She wrote: ‘They. Are. Among. Us.’ then turned the page around to Janine. Janine smiled.

  ‘Honestly, that would be an accurate description if you saw him,’ said the caller. ‘I mean, maybe it was because I was driving toward him, and he was in the headlights, so he was just this black silhouette. It scared the hell out of me. I slammed on the brakes. He was kind of startled. I saw him a little better when my eyes adjusted. He was completely naked, wiry and muscular, but he seemed very pale … or maybe he was just bleached out in the lights. He had no hair on his body. Not one hair.’

  Because you went right up there with your microscope. ‘How did he react to you?’ said Ren.

  ‘After he got himself together, after he’d been startled, he started moving toward me, real angry,’ she said. ‘I totally freaked, slammed my foot on the accelerator, but my truck wasn’t in reverse, so it looked to him like I was shooting forward to run him over. He dived sideways, disappeared into the dark. I drove up a little ways toward him, I rolled down the window to see if he was OK, and he jumped up, pounced toward me again, like an animal. I was terrified. His face, everything. He was like an alien. No hair. Not one bit.’

  ‘Nowhere …’ said Ren.

  ‘No, not down below,’ said the woman. ‘He was like this bald alien.’

  Alien. I get it.

  ‘He smelled real bad,’ she said. ‘Like, real bad.’

  ‘What kind of smell?’ Mars bars?

  ‘Like mothballs.’

  ‘What was he doing when you arrived?’ said Ren.

  ‘He was taking something out of the trunk of his car,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what – a piece of wood, maybe? A stick? I’m not sure.’

  ‘What size was it?’ said Ren.

  Silence. ‘His—’

  ‘The stick!’ said Ren. Jesus Christ.

  ‘Oh, my. It was about two-foot long.’

  Glad we clarified. Or I’d be heading for the woods …

  ‘Was he alone?’ said Ren.

  ‘I think so,’ said the woman. ‘I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone, I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Did you get his license plate number?’ said Ren.

  ‘What I got was the hell out of there.’

  Ren smiled. ‘Do you think you could show me on a map where that was? Could you email me something?’

  The woman groaned. ‘You’re asking pretty much the worst person in the world. I have the worst sense of direction. But I’ll go to Google Maps and put something together for you.’

  ‘Thank you so much for your help.’ Nutjobs of the world unite. Ren gave her her email address, hung up and slumped back in the chair. ‘Can someone please not send me the fucking lunatics?’

  ‘Your brethren,’ said Everett.

  ‘Seriously, though …’

  Ren looked in the direction of the door, where Gary was now hovering.

  Oh, how you suck the life out of the room.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ said Gary.

  ‘Well, I just got a call from a woman who saw an alien at Devil’s Head, near where Stephanie Wingerter was found,’ said Ren, her fingers paused over the keyboard. She began to type in time with the words: ‘Pale-skinned, scarred face, hairless – down there.’

  ‘Give the woman a break,’ said Gary.

  Ren stopped breathing for several seconds. Annnd release. ‘As it is his jurisdiction, I will be letting Rodeal know – don’t worry. Yes, this woman may have stumbled on a couple of mating aliens or a single masturbatory one, maybe woodland grass provides the perfect environment for alien babies to grow … like Cabbage Patch Kids. But, still, there’s always the possibility she was seeing somebody pulling a shovel out of a trunk, about to dig a shallow grave.’

  ‘She might have been drinking,’ said Gary.

  ‘Might have been …’

  Ren turned to Everett when Gary was gone. ‘And haven’t I got a Crazy Bitch bitch? Don’t I have a DPD guy taking the weird calls? I mean – not that he knows that’s what he’s doing. But reception does – and that’s the main thing. They have the power.’

  ‘The loons are the most fun,’ said Everett.

  Ren turned to Robbie. ‘Can you look into two people for me without drawing Gary’s attention to it? Their names are Kurt Vine and Amanda Petrie.’

  ‘Sure – what are you looking at?’ said Robbie.

  ‘That Sedalia lady – the Jane Doe,’ said Ren. ‘I found out that she was singing the exact lyrics that Carrie Longman had written on the napkin in Manny’s. And she was on fire – the same night Stephanie Wingerter went missing, and she was found with burns too.’

  ‘What?’ said Everett. ‘That is so … random.’

  ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘And I’d like it to be less so.’ She turned to Janine. ‘Janine, could you speak with the staff who worked with Carrie Longman, see who at the shelter has a history of IV drug use, either themselves or in the family? See if there are any lyricists among them or if they know any?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Janine.

  ‘On to more important things,’ said Everett, pointing to Ren. ‘Do you want to light up a dance floor with me tonight?’

  ‘Ben is flying in,’ said Ren. ‘But, yes, I think he needs to see our moves.’

  Gary came into the office. ‘Just to let you know – Sylvie Ross will be coming in at eight a.m. tomorrow to talk about what she got from Carly Raine’s little boy.’

  Ren looked at Everett. They smiled.

  This early start development will not stop our moves. Nothing stops our moves.

  30

  Ren went to Devin’s house on the way home to reintroduce herself to Misty. She and Devin took her for a walk in the park, and stopped in a café for hot cho
colate on the way back.

  Ben was in the apartment when Ren got home.

  ‘Hey there, pretty lady,’ he said. There was a bunch of flowers in a vase on the table.

  Ren threw her arms around him. ‘I love them!’ They kissed. ‘I love you!’

  ‘Well, I love you too.’ He paused. ‘Your Wall of Horrors? Not so much.’

  ‘Bedroom,’ said Ren. ‘Now.’

  Ren got up off the bedroom floor afterwards, and headed for the shower.

  Ben was watching her as she left. ‘You might not want to lose any more weight …’

  She stopped and turned toward him. ‘Or I might want to lose lots more. Who knows?’

  ‘You’re getting a little too thin …’

  ‘What – for your liking?’

  Ren looked at herself in the mirror. I look way better skinny. And I’ve muscles, anyway. I don’t want to lose weight. I just want to work out as much as I feel like working out. Not my fault if that makes me thinner, buddy. Suck it up.

  ‘I’m just saying you’re working out a lot,’ said Ben.

  ‘Well then, just say “you’re working out a lot” instead of “you’re repelling me with your boniness”.’

  ‘Which I did not say,’ said Ben.

  ‘Not maybe in those words …’ said Ren.

  ‘Literal Studies with Ren Bryce.’ Ben grabbed a magazine from the nightstand.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You can use my hip bones for purchase,’ she shouted.

  Ben laughed.

  ‘I don’t want to live in a place where we can hear each other so easily,’ said Ren.

  ‘I don’t know how to take that …’

  ‘From behind … as you slice your finger open on my hip bone.’

  ‘It’s just wall-to-wall sexual images tonight …’

  ‘OK, let’s start again,’ said Ren. ‘Come into the shower, close your eyes and pretend I’m someone huge … like Kate Moss.’

  ‘Can we stay in tonight?’ said Ben.

  Aw, maan. ‘No.’

  ‘We’re always going out,’ said Ben.

  ‘No – I’m always going out.’

  ‘Can’t we just watch a movie?’

  ‘No. Let’s have a life.’

  They got back at two a.m. Ben caught Ren by the elbow as she stumbled in the door, tried to hold her steady. She shrugged away from him.

  ‘Ren, what the hell was that about, earlier?’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Ren. Ooh, my head is spinning.

  ‘The bar!’ said Ben.

  ‘Don’t raise your voice,’ said Ren.

  ‘I’m not raising my voice,’ said Ben. ‘You disappeared for nearly half an hour, three separate times, then I go check you’re all right, and you’re talking to a group of guys …’

  ‘Why would you even be checking if I’m all right?’ said Ren. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Ben. ‘You were gone so long.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Ren.

  ‘It’s not like I’m here all the time,’ said Ben. ‘And, I’m sorry, but you looked like you were flirting.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Ren. ‘I was not flirting. There’s a difference between being friendly and flirting.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Ben. ‘I’m telling you this bearing that in mind.’

  Ugh. ‘This is bullshit,’ said Ren. ‘Where is this going to lead? Is there some conclusion? Let’s just agree to disagree. I’m here with you. I haven’t disappeared with one of those guys. Nobody died.’

  ‘Nice, Ren. Real nice.’

  ‘Jesus, Ben.’ Why does everyone want to suck the life out of the room? ‘I’m going to bed. You can have the sofa if you want.’

  Slam.

  Ben was sitting in the living room when she came down the next morning. The duvet was folded up beside him, the pillow on top of it. He looked pale.

  Shit.

  ‘Hey,’ said Ren.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Six thirty.’

  Jesus, why do I do this to myself?

  She walked over to him and sat down beside him. ‘I’m sorry about last night.’ I was so drunk. I’m off meds. I was so, so drunk. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  Ben slumped back, stretched his hands above his head. ‘Neither do I.’ He pointed to her phone. ‘You left your phone on the table. It beeped in the middle of the night. I picked it up to turn it to Silent …’

  Uh-oh. Did you see anything else? Scan memory. Scan memory … FUUUUCK.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have read anything …’ said Ben. ‘So I want to apologize for that first.’

  ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ said Ren.

  ‘I’m sorry – it began as an accident, but then I figured I might get some answers as to why you’ve been behaving strangely.’

  ‘What?’ Maintain eye contact. ‘What do you mean strangely?’

  ‘You have not been … yourself. I read your texts to Janine …’

  Oh, noooo.

  ‘I quote,’ said Ben. ‘“Why can’t I stop thinking about fucking YKW?” Ben looked up at Ren. ‘I’m going to presume that YKW – You Know Who – is not me, because it would be OK to think about fucking your boyfriend. Who is YKW?’

  This is pretty fucking shit. ‘No one.’

  ‘Seriously …’ said Ben.

  ‘No one important,’ said Ren. ‘I mean … it’s not real. It’s not like I’m actually going to do it.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Ben. ‘I’m going to guess it’s Gary.’

  Whoa … ly shit. ‘Gary?’ said Ren. ‘Why Gary?’

  ‘Because I know you like Gary and respect him, I know you’ve referred to him as handsome in the past, and I get that women like him. Plus, there’s the Paul Louderback tradition of older males.’

  ‘This is so embarrassing,’ said Ren. ‘I was drunk when I texted that.’

  ‘At seven p.m.?’ said Ben.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Ren. ‘That was the Saturday night we had that fight over the phone. It was after that long lunch …’

  ‘And what would have happened if that long lunch was with Gary?’ said Ben.

  I may indeed have slept with him if the opportunity arose. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to do with that information?’ said Ben.

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. Forget it! It’s embarrassing. It’s not how I feel. I don’t even know why I sent it. It’s like … I don’t know … a weird celebrity crush thing … I mean, read Janine’s reaction: This is not real.’

  ‘You should hear yourself,’ said Ben.

  ‘I can hear myself,’ said Ren. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘I get it,’ said Ben. ‘But think about how I feel. Do you still keep thinking about fucking him?’

  Only when I’m alone with him. And myself. ‘No. No. I don’t know what that was all about. I don’t get it.’

  ‘I heard a rumor that he’s been sleeping around,’ said Ben.

  Ooh.

  ‘I’m guessing by your face that’s true,’ said Ben.

  Damn you, traitor face. ‘Yes. But please don’t say that—’

  ‘Was it with you?’

  ‘What? No,’ said Ren. ‘I can assure you of that.’

  ‘Do you wish it was?’ said Ben.

  Part of me does, yes, which I can barely understand myself. ‘No.’

  Now: blow-job time! Look down here! Look down here!

  ‘Ren, stop – I’m not in the mood.’

  What guy is ever not in the mood for a blow job? That’s not normal.

  She sat up beside him on the sofa.

  I’m such a loser.

  She started to cry. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t cry,’ said Ben. ‘It’s definitely not worth crying about.’ He studied her face. ‘But, are you OK?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. Just … a little stressed.’

  ‘
You don’t seem yourself.’

  Which self?

  ‘Come here,’ said Ben, drawing her onto his lap, stroking her damp hair.

  Oh, God. What am I doing to this sweet man?

  The same thing I always do.

  31

  Ren was in Safe Streets by seven thirty, applying makeup in the alarming light of the locker room.

  Minimal improvement.

  At seven forty-five, child forensic interviewer Sylvie Ross appeared in the doorway of the bullpen, bright-eyed and eager, a clipboard pressed to her chest. She was dressed in a razor-sharp gray pencil skirt, and a white sleeveless blouse. Her shiny brown hair was twisted and piled up at the back of her head. She was wearing thick-rimmed glasses and red lipstick.

  Well, you are not sartorially aiming at children today, that’s for sure.

  ‘You all remember Sylvie,’ said Gary.

  Sylvie, who is currently dressed to stand over a naked man for cash, call him names, and bury her stiletto into his—

  ‘Ren,’ said Sylvie, walking over, shaking her hand. ‘Lovely to see you again.’

  God, I hate sleeveless blouses. ‘You too,’ said Ren.

  ‘Right,’ said Gary, before he left them, abruptly, to go back to his office.

  Nice, Gary. Smooth.

  ‘How have you been?’ said Sylvie. Her smile was warm. ‘You look great.’

  ‘I look like a piece of shit.’

  Sylvie’s eyes widened.

  Alcohol is evil. ‘I had a bad night’s sleep.’

  ‘Well, it’s not showing.’

  ‘How did the interview with Tyler Raine go?’ said Ren. ‘The whole thing is beyond horrific.’

  Sylvie wandered over to the noticeboards, flashing a whole lot of her muscular, marathon-running legs with a slit in her skirt that went halfway up her thigh.

  You wear it well, Sylvie Ross. And I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.

  Everett caught Ren looking and smiled at her. Ren smiled back. He shook his head and mouthed ‘Bad girl’. Ren mouthed back, and pointed. ‘Me or her?’

  Sylvie turned around. ‘This guy is some piece of work.’

  ‘Oh, he is,’ said Ren.

  Sylvie walked around the room, jotting notes with a stylish pencil – sharp, black with gold lettering.

  ‘How was the little boy?’ said Ren.