Chapter 23

Tuesday, October 11, 5 P.M.

Malcolm strode into ZZ’s and spotted Margo standing behind the bar. She wore a sleeveless shirt that accentuated toned arms covered with tattoos. She glanced up at him. His scowl deepened.

He showed her his badge. “Margo.”

“Cop.”

“Got a few questions.”

She set the glass down and leaned into the bar. “You were here the other night.”

“That’s right.”

“That chick with Eva was a cop.”

“Nope. Attorney.”

She shrugged. “Just as bad. What do you want? I told all the cops that I haven’t seen Lulu.”

“Lulu Sweet is dead.”

For a moment, granite features softened. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve got a few questions.”

“I don’t have many answers.”

Malcolm leaned into the bar. “I got friends in Vice that would like nothing better than to camp their asses on your barstools and chat with your customers.”

“I ain’t got nothing to hide.”

“Then don’t worry.” He pushed away. “When you are ready to scramble for answers could you let me know? I’ll call the bloodhounds off then.”

Margo cursed under her breath. “Ass.”

“That a yes?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anybody seen Tony?”

“Nope. He split right after Lulu vanished.”

“Anybody hanging around Lulu or talking to or hassling her?”

“Not more than usual. She was cute and bubbly, and the dudes liked that.”

“What about her purse?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Really? I smell bloodhounds.”

“Shit. Behind the bar.”

He didn’t mention that she’d told the other cops the purse had been nowhere to be found. “Thanks.”

It was a satchel fashioned out of blue-jean material with brightly colored patches on the side. He fished through it. Comb, wallet with no cash in it, gum, crackers, and in the very bottom a wad of paper. He set the purse on the bar and unfurled the paper. It was a handwritten note.

“Any idea who might have given this to her?”

She read the note. “No, I really don’t. If anybody was bugging her, she never said.”

He handed her one of his business cards. “If you think of anything or see Tony, call me.”

“Got you on speed dial, sport.”

Malcolm’s head pounded as he pushed through the front door of King’s. He saw Angie sitting at the bar. She was talking to Eva and doing something he didn’t see often. She was smiling.

Whatever was coiled inside of him eased, and tension melted from his shoulders. She’d been in his thoughts the better part of the day. Seeing her standing over the baby not knowing how to change a diaper. The way she’d watched him with that kid, her eyes sad and reflective. It must sting like hell to hold a kid and know you’d never have one of your own.

As he moved toward the bar, Eva looked up and spotted him. She nodded and mentioned to Angie that he’d arrived. She turned. The smile faded from her face. In an instant, the light vanished. The serious Angie had returned, and he was sorry for it.

He sat beside her and grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl on the bar. “Eva, I could use a beer, but give me a soda.”

“Sure.”

She poured a tall soda and set it in front of him. “You want what you ordered the other night?”

“I don’t remember what I had.”

“Chili, crackers, extra hot sauce.”

He jostled peanuts in his hand. “How do you remember that?”

“She has a photographic memory,” Angie said. “She could tell you what you wore two months ago. Or what you ate that day.”

“Garrison said something about you having a good memory. I didn’t realize it was that extreme.”

Eva shrugged. “Sometimes. Remembering isn’t always the best.” She punched his order into the computer.

“What do you remember about your father?” Malcolm asked.

She arched a brow. “Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been chewing on this Fay Willow case on and off all day. Has your sister told you about our visit to the women’s prison?”

Angie faced him. “I didn’t supply many details because she doesn’t need to know.”

He shrugged. “Back off, Mama Bear. I’m just asking.”

Eva refilled Angie’s water glass. “I’ve been after her to tell me, but she won’t. She and Garrison think I’m made of glass.”

He faced Angie. “She won’t break if I ask her questions about her father.”

“She doesn’t need the stress.”

Eva laughed. “She can talk for herself, Angie. And she does remember a little about her father.”

He shifted his gaze back to Eva. “What do you remember?”

“He was fun. He made me laugh. Always had a magic trick. But the more I dig back to the past, I remember that he and Mom were never really happy. He would be out a lot at night, and when he came back she’d argue with him. She cried often.”

“Why did he leave?”

“I don’t know. One day he was there, and then one day he was gone.”

“Louise said that Darius forced Frank to hire Blue.”

Eva shrugged. “I don’t know. It all went over my head.”

Garrison pushed through the front door of the bar. He came around the bar, took Eva in his arms, and kissed her. Several customers whooped and hollered, but he didn’t seem to care.

Color rose in Angie’s face as she watched the two embrace.

Malcolm’s phone rang, and he was relieved to answer it. “Kier.” He lifted his gaze, growing darker and slowly shifting to Angie. “Are you very sure?” He listened and then nodded. “Thanks.”

“What was that about?” Angie said.

Garrison picked up on her tone and shifted his gaze while keeping his arm around Eva.

“An undercover cop working the streets called in. Dixon is back on the prowl. He’s talking to hookers.”

“He’s not done that since his trial,” Garrison said.

“He understands that keeping his nose clean is part of staying out of jail,” Angie said.

“Yeah, but why now?” Kier said. “What has changed?”

“Maybe he was just biding his time,” Eva offered.

Angie shook her head. “He was interviewed by the cops only a week ago. He’d have to be a fool to solicit sex. It’s what got him into trouble in the first place.”

“He was so careful, and now he’s taking risks. Why?” Malcolm turned to Angie. “You need to be very careful.”

“Me? Why?”

“He has a thing for you. I could see it in the way he looked at you in the courtroom.”

“We had a strictly professional relationship.” She wasn’t sure why she needed to say that to Malcolm.

“I’m not saying you didn’t. But I’m not so sure about him. You said he’d came around last week.”

“He wanted legal advice.”

“And when you said no?”

“He wasn’t happy, but he dealt with it.”

Kier shook his head. “Be very, very careful, Counselor. If he’s taking small risks, he could be getting ready to take big risks.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you’re a big girl.” Sarcasm rattled around the words. “But you may have a lunatic that’s got you in his sights.”

Eva reached across the bar and laid her hand on Angie’s. “Be careful. I know firsthand how clever they can be.”

Dixon had tied the woman to the hotel bed. Tear streaks and mascara trailed down the side of her face. She wasn’t bleeding. He’d been careful not to make her bleed. And when the bruises darkened her pale skin, a shirt and pants would cover them easily. He’d only bitten her once on the underside of her breast.

He pulled up his pants, fastened the top button, and zipped up. He liked watching her twist at her bindings and try to hold off the tears. Given a little more time, she’d have been weeping and begging. But he didn’t dare risk it.

He pulled two hundred dollars from his pocket and tossed it on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed, and the cheap mattress sunk under his weight. Humming, he reached for her bindings and slowly untied them.

The woman quickly sat up and rubbed the red raw bands around her wrists.

He grabbed her by the chin and held her face. “You and I are going to keep this little date private, aren’t we?”

Her agreement came quick and sure. “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t need trouble, and you don’t need trouble from me.” He pulled a small camera from his pocket and snapped several photos. “Got it?”

Her head bobbed up and down. “I get it. I get it.”

His desire satisfied, he was anxious to get rid of her. “Get your clothes and get out of here.”

She scrambled off the bed and quickly pulled on a short jean miniskirt and tank top. She grabbed her purse and snatched the money off the nightstand.

“Maybe I’ll call you again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hurried out of the room. Dixon sat on the bed for a moment, savoring the total sense of relaxation. His thoughts were clear now. He could plan his escape with Angie.

The motel door opened, but he didn’t bother a glance up. “What did you forget?”

A heavy silence hung in the room, sending a sting of fear through his limbs. He rose and turned, his fingers fisted.

The whore stood in the doorway, but she wasn’t alone. His partner was with her. The Other held the woman’s neck in his hands, squeezing so hard she couldn’t move.

His expression was as dark as Satan’s and made him seem all the more frightening and imposing.

“What are you doing?” he said in a cool, even voice as he pushed the door closed behind him.

“Just having a little fun.”

“I told you, no more fun. Not now.” He shoved hard, and the woman tumbled forward onto the carpeted floor. She wept and crawled toward Dixon as if he would somehow save her.

Dixon ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I just needed to release some tension.”

“That’s what you said when you picked up Lulu Sweet the first time. That led to one hell of a mess.”

“I kept quiet, just as we agreed. I never implicated you.”

“No, but you put a crimp in my fun. We had to lay low for a year because you couldn’t control yourself.”

“I didn’t get rough with her like I did with Lulu the first time.”

“You’ve created a loose end who will talk to someone sooner or later.”

The woman glanced up at him. “I won’t talk. I swear.”

The man pulled a knife from his back pocket. The woman gasped and screamed. The customers who came to this motel heard screams often and didn’t call the cops unless it became really annoying. “No, you will not.”

“Shit!” Dixon gasped.

He held out the knife to Dixon. “Clean up your mess.”

Dixon held up his hands. “Me? I don’t like that part.”

“You made the mess—now you have to tidy it up.”

He shrank away as the woman wailed. “No.”

A smile twisted his partner’s face, and he stepped forward and in one smooth move grabbed the woman by the hair and sliced her neck. Instantly she collapsed to the floor. Her blood pooled around her head as the air gurgled from her lungs.

“Shit!” Dixon wailed. “What have you done? My fingerprints and DNA are all over this room.” He backed up a step so that the whore’s blood didn’t touch his shoes. “I’m not going to jail for this.”

“No, you won’t go to jail for this.”

Dixon wanted to run in the bathroom and vomit. “Then what the hell was the point of killing her?”

The Other shrugged as he tossed the knife on the floor beside the woman. “Fun. Entertainment. Boredom.”

“I can’t do this anymore with you. I can’t.”

“I understand.” His smile was warm and forgiving. “It’s too much.”

Dixon’s breathing slowed just a fraction. “You’ll let me go.”

“Of course. But I need you to do a favor for me.”

Dixon’s hands trembled, and it was all he could do not to piss on himself. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Suit yourself.”

Dixon dashed to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. His eyes watered. The muscles in his stomach ached. Finally, he swiped his hand over his mouth and rose.

“Now about that favor.”

“What do you need from me?”

“The cops need someone to blame these murders on. I’ve got the perfect persontogive them. Let’sgotomycar.”

“Your car? Why?”

“The less people who see you now, the better. Let’s go.”

Dixon grabbed his coat and tie and wobbled out the door to the dark sedan. He slid into the front seat, his nerves and body dancing with illness and adrenaline.

He laid his head back against the soft seat. “Why do you like to kill so much?”

“It’s a dark hobby, I’ll admit.”

“How long have you been killing?”

He shrugged. “I killed my first woman when I was sixteen.”

“Shit.”

The Other nodded, amazed by his own admission. “Something, isn’t it?”

Dixon opened his eyes to say something else but felt the prick of a needle in the side of his neck. His head immediately spun. His gaze grew hazy.

“You’re killing me,” he choked.

“Never make a deal with the scorpion. They’ll sting you every time.”

The call on the prostitute came in around midnight. The hotel owner had rented the room for five hours, and time had come up and customers were waiting. He’d found the woman and called the cops.

Now Kier and Garrison stood by the body, staring down at the woman who lay on her stomach, blood pooling around her head.

“Is she the one who left with Dixon?” Malcolm said.

“Yeah.” The woman that answered was dressed like a hooker—tight pants, a tube top, and a gold belt—but she had a badge slung around her neck. Her name was Officer Julian. “Her name is Foxy. She’s been in town a couple of months. Not more than twenty years old.”

Malcolm studied the body, noting the bruising around her throat and the bite mark on her shoulder. “The bruising and bites are classic Dixon.”

“No doubt the medical examiner will find bruising on the inside of her legs and signs of very rough sex,” Garrison said.

Julian’s bright red lips flattened. “The girls in the area were surprised to see him. They told Foxy not to go with him, but he was paying two hundred for an hour. She decided the money was worth it.”

Foxy lay on her belly, her hands splayed out in front of her. One blue high heel was half off and the other wedged on tight. Her sack purse lay beside her.

“Foxy’s neck was sliced with a sharp blade, and that is not like Dixon at all,” Malcolm said.

“Killers evolve,” Garrison said.

Thin silver bracelets jangled on Officer Julian’s arm as she moved her hand to her hips. “Maybe he didn’t want word getting back to the streets about this ‘date.’ He had enough trouble coaxing Foxy into his car.”

“I’ll bet we find his DNA all over this room,” Malcolm said. “Killing her doesn’t make sense. Are there any cuts on her body?”

The forensic tech continued to snap photos as he shook his head. “No cuts. Lots of bruises. Track marks. But no cuts.”

“None of this feels right,” Malcolm said.

Garrison nodded. “Dixon likes to hurt women, not kill them.”

“Exactly.”

“You think he’s working with someone else?”

“It wouldn’t be a huge stretch. One killer is in it for the violence and sex, and the other is in it for the kill. Not the first time that’s happened.”

“Where’s the motel manager?”

“Outside,” Officer Julian said. “His name is Kline. Sammie Kline.”

Malcolm and Garrison found the short, troll-like man hovering by one of the police cars. A bright red shirt covered a round belly. He held the remains of a cigarette between his thin lips.

Malcolm held up his badge. “Sammie Kline. You manage this place?”

The man sniffed. “I work the desk at nights.”

“So everyone has got to go through you to get a room.”

“Yeah.”

“You see who rented room number twelve?”

“It pays not to pay too close attention.”

Garrison grinned. “It’s going to pay big dividends if you did pay attention.”

Sammie sniffed, dropped his butt to the ground, and twisted his foot on it until it extinguished. “I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

Malcolm planted his hands on his hips. “Do us both a favor. Think hard about who rented room twelve.”

He studied Malcolm, realizing that he’d come out farther ahead if he dug deep into his memory. “The chick’s name was Foxy. She paid cash and said she needed the room for a couple of hours. That’s longer than normal. Most girls don’t book the room for more than a half hour.”

“Who was with her?”

“He didn’t come inside, but I saw him. He’s not been in here in a long time, but I recognized him. It was Dixon. I remember his trial.”

“You’re certain?”

“Positive.”

“Anyone with him?”

“Nope. He was alone.”

Malcolm studied the parking lot. “Did he leave alone?”

“I don’t know,” Sammie said.

“Do you have security cameras?” Garrison said.

“No one wants any record of any comings or goings. There’s a gas station a half block away. It might have picked up someone driving to the motel.”

Malcolm shoved out a breath. “Time to start knocking on doors and figuring out who saw what.”

“Right.”

They spent the better part of the next hour doing just that. Getting people to answer had been difficult. Several times they’d had Sammie use his pass key to open doors. In the end, no one had seen Dixon leave. If anyone had seen them leave they’d long since left. “Let’s put Officer Julian to work. Let her ask around. One of the girls might have been working at the time and seen someone leave with Dixon.”

“Will anyone talk?”

“It’s in their best interest. Either Dixon or someone else had some very nasty, violent tastes.”