Part 18 (1/2)

Fear rammed into Jess. She turned to Dan. The sisters were with this man and Jess knew exactly where they were-or, at least, where they had been. ”The Howard Johnson Inn where I stayed when I first got here.”

Why hadn't she thought of that place? Jesus Christ she should have known.

”Heading there now.”

Tires squealed as Dan whipped out onto the street.

Jess started to enter the number for dispatch but a call from Harper interrupted.

”Chief, we're en route to the Howard-”

”So are we.” Her voice sounded empty. But agony was br.i.m.m.i.n.g inside her. ”We'll meet you there.”

Jess felt sick.

The murders were growing more blatant. Each one added another layer of guilt to the mountain already sitting on her shoulders.

Spears intended to win this battle... even if it was his last.

18.

Howard Johnson Inn, 4:30 p.m.

Are you having fun yet, Jess?

That was the message on the wall above the bed. It appeared to be written in the victim's blood. Even after more than half an hour, Jess couldn't stop glancing back to look at it again. The words had been videoed, photographed, and swabbed for evidence.

The room was a b.l.o.o.d.y mess.

Since each victim's heart had ceased to beat before the mangling of the torso, there was no reason for blood to be all over the room. What were they doing? Using the victim's blood like lotion or body paint. Jess shuddered. Hadn't she seen a movie or read a book about a blood countess in Hungary or somewhere in Europe? Legend or historical fact she couldn't recall. Were these two killers performing the same sort of rituals?

Had Ellis studied more than the Old Masters while in Europe? Maybe he'd decided to relive some of the folklore he'd learned.

Were the Vance sisters his pupils in the art of death?

Another shudder rocked Jess. Too many questions and not enough answers. She pushed aside her raw emotions and focused on the details of the scene. Just about a month ago, this room had been vandalized along with all her things. It certainly hadn't taken the motel long to get it refurbished. Too bad for Mr. Theodore McCrary of Nashville, fifty-nine and widowed with one grown son.

He had come to Birmingham for a business meeting yesterday. According to an a.s.sociate whose business card was found at the scene, after a long meeting McCrary and several others had gone to dinner and then to a bar. When they'd parted around ten-thirty, McCrary had called a taxi to return to his motel. He was supposed to fly back to Nashville today. His son had gone to the airport to pick him up at one o'clock but his father hadn't been on the flight. When repeated calls to the vic's cell had gone unanswered, the son had called the motel.

Imagine the manager's surprise when, after much prompting by the son, he'd found this unholy mess.

Mr. McCrary had come back to his room last night, but the sisters had probably been waiting and intercepted him at the pool. He'd said something in the video about going back to the pool. To reach this room, pa.s.sing the pool in the inner courtyard was necessary. To a man McCrary's age, away from home and feeling lonely, having two beautiful young women flirting must have been very flattering. A few more drinks, a little Curare, and the poor man was done.

”Same array of tools as before,” Harper reported.

”Brands are sold at Lowes and Home Depot,” Hayes added.

Cook and Lori were interviewing guests in the surrounding rooms.

”Do we have information on the son for a next of kin notification?” The motel manager had not called the son back to relay the news.

”Nashville Metro is contacting Mr. McCrary's son.” Harper checked his cell. ”Dr. Baron says she's on her way.”

”I hope she's not driving and texting.” Jess was a little annoyed with the ME. She'd watched Cook's face light up every time he heard Baron's name. Jess didn't know when she'd decided saving the youngest member of her team from heartbreak was her job. She had enough on her plate already.

Maybe it was the idea that Sylvia had ignored Jess's wishes on the matter. When had professional courtesy gone out of style?

Or maybe it was her, Jess mused. She couldn't seem to focus. Her emotions had hopped on a roller coaster and refused to get off.

She was not herself. How much of her fluctuating emotions were hormones? She had no idea. The better question was when would it pa.s.s?

She moved to the door of the small bathroom and surveyed the smears of blood. There were few footprints this time. The room's new carpet had seen to that. The place was going to need another refurbis.h.i.+ng. When Jess had arrived the manager had taken one look at her and shaken his head. You'd think she would be used to that kind of reaction by now.

”Sergeant?” Jess turned back to the room at large. Harper moved toward her. ”I'd like you, Detective Wells and Officer Cook to focus on finding the Vance sisters and Ellis. Ensure we have surveillance on their homes and the gallery twenty-four/seven. Lieutenant Hayes and I will wrap things up here.”

”Yes, ma'am.”

”Lieutenant, where's Chief Burnett?” He'd been here a few minutes ago. Jess didn't usually have this much trouble keeping up with the folks at her crime scenes.

”He's just outside taking a call. Do you need him?”

She shook her head. ”I'll talk to him in a minute.” Mostly she just needed to confirm he was close by and safe.

She wished she had the luxury of just falling into Dan's arms and closing out all this ugliness. How would she ever make a decent life for this child? Her entire existence revolved around murder.

”See if there's anyone else we need to interview here, Lieutenant. I'll see what our ME has to say and then we'll be on our way. I have a few things I need to do at the office.” Then she was going home and she and Dan were going to talk. No matter what happened. The rest of the world was just going to have to take a time out.

Hayes hesitated. ”You won't-”

”I'll be right here, Lieutenant. I'm not going anywhere.”

When she'd shooed him away, Jess stared at the poor man on the bed. I am so sorry. Chances were he had never even heard of Jess Harris. Now he was dead because of her. For the first time in her career, she wanted to cry right here in the middle of a crime scene.

”What has your crazed serial killer done to get your attention this time?”

Startled from her troubling thoughts, Jess turned to the ME as she breezed into the room. ”You're late.”

Sylvia arched an eyebrow. ”I didn't know you were keeping tabs on my response times.”

Jess looked her up and down. Even under the disposable paper lab coat the formfitting dress was eye catching. The soft muted color of orange, not the garish one, even looked good with her red hair.

”Nice dress,” Jess said begrudgingly.

Sylvia shrugged. ”If you haven't heard, orange is the new black.”