to his feet the second the woman spoke. Twenty minutes seemed only seconds to her. "They shaid they wanted 'MOM' tattoosh, and they had cash." Her eyes closed again and tears seeped from beneath her lashes. "How shtupid could I have been?"
"You weren't stupid. You were trying to conduct business. Is there anything else?"
"Sho tired."
"I know. I'll come back tomorrow. It's almost nightfall again." Agent Journey started to leave.
"Wait!" called Neely barely above a whisper.
"Yes?"
"Firsht one had an ugly double-headed sherpent tattoo on his chesht over hish heart. Shaw the headsh above the edge of hish tank top." She dozed and jumped again. "Oh," she groaned and pressed the pain medicine pump. "He shmelled like Dark Obshession."
He arched an eyebrow. "Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the first lead we've had. We're gonna do everything we can to find them."
"Thanksh." She was so groggy, her words continued to come out slurred. "They actually ushed condomsh. Can you believe they came prepared?"
"It's been the same in all the cases. There has been no physical evidence. Maybe when you're more coherent, you can describe them better."
"I'll try. I want them punished."
"I'm sure."
"He had pale blue eyesh—sho young. Shame color as their rubber glovesh."
"Blue eyes. Rubber gloves. Big leads." He patted her hand and turned to leave again.
"Didn't want to kill me, but the other one did. Shaid not firsht time."
"Excuse me?" He came back to the bed one more time.
"Young one told another he shtrangled me, but he knew I wash alive. Felt my neck after he took hish handsh off my throat."
"Remorse? Hesitation?" He grunted. "Maybe a different crew, but same leader. You say one was really young?"
"Mmm. Voice cracked."
"Maybe some kind of gang initiation. You really are giving me more than we've had."
"One more thing. Everything wash shaved, even pubesh and underarmsh."
"No semen, no hair—no DNA." We found no trace of sweat or saliva. Too damned clean. "At least you remember the gloves too. You rest now. I'll see you tomorrow."
Agent Journey would never return, but Neely did her best to describe her attackers, though she could only recall one with any certainty. She sketched the part of the tattoo she had seen, as well as a pair of eyes that haunted her. Neely might have been broken and left for dead, but she refused to curl up and die.
5
Fallen Angels
W it h Chris Gautier's untimely death, Brian Baker assumed the role as lead detective. He had every detective and some patrol officers reviewing Chris's old cases for possible suspects. Officer Parker Reynolds volunteered his off time, and Police Chief Raiford Reynolds left the comfort of his office to lend a hand.
Chris had not even been on duty when she had been killed. She and Trista had been shopping at the strip mall. Since Trista was learning to drive, Chris had given her the car keys. Trista unlocked the driver's door, and Chris dropped on the other side of the car.
The milling shoppers near the Gautier car had fallen behind the nearest cover at the loud sound, not sure what they had heard. Only one shot had been fired. No one else had been hit. Chris had obviously been the sole target. Baker believed it had to be related to an old case.
The only thing her teenage daughter could recall was seeing her mother fall and the air being extremely cold for June in the Deep South. Baker read over the statements and shivered. "Shit." He called his boss.
Ray answered with trepidation. "What now?"
"Did you read this part about cold air?"
Rubbing his head as a migraine crept up, Ray said, "Are you suggesting some form of spiritual warfare?"
"Hey, it was freezing when we took Latrice down, and it was like ice in court with Mia."
"Yeah. I'm sort of tired of any demon Latrice might have unleashed."
"Me too, but it's weird again."
"Let's meet at the crime scene."
Ray and Brian met and went over everything again.
The investigation followed the
"You weren't stupid. You were trying to conduct business. Is there anything else?"
"Sho tired."
"I know. I'll come back tomorrow. It's almost nightfall again." Agent Journey started to leave.
"Wait!" called Neely barely above a whisper.
"Yes?"
"Firsht one had an ugly double-headed sherpent tattoo on his chesht over hish heart. Shaw the headsh above the edge of hish tank top." She dozed and jumped again. "Oh," she groaned and pressed the pain medicine pump. "He shmelled like Dark Obshession."
He arched an eyebrow. "Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief. "That's the first lead we've had. We're gonna do everything we can to find them."
"Thanksh." She was so groggy, her words continued to come out slurred. "They actually ushed condomsh. Can you believe they came prepared?"
"It's been the same in all the cases. There has been no physical evidence. Maybe when you're more coherent, you can describe them better."
"I'll try. I want them punished."
"I'm sure."
"He had pale blue eyesh—sho young. Shame color as their rubber glovesh."
"Blue eyes. Rubber gloves. Big leads." He patted her hand and turned to leave again.
"Didn't want to kill me, but the other one did. Shaid not firsht time."
"Excuse me?" He came back to the bed one more time.
"Young one told another he shtrangled me, but he knew I wash alive. Felt my neck after he took hish handsh off my throat."
"Remorse? Hesitation?" He grunted. "Maybe a different crew, but same leader. You say one was really young?"
"Mmm. Voice cracked."
"Maybe some kind of gang initiation. You really are giving me more than we've had."
"One more thing. Everything wash shaved, even pubesh and underarmsh."
"No semen, no hair—no DNA." We found no trace of sweat or saliva. Too damned clean. "At least you remember the gloves too. You rest now. I'll see you tomorrow."
Agent Journey would never return, but Neely did her best to describe her attackers, though she could only recall one with any certainty. She sketched the part of the tattoo she had seen, as well as a pair of eyes that haunted her. Neely might have been broken and left for dead, but she refused to curl up and die.
5
Fallen Angels
W it h Chris Gautier's untimely death, Brian Baker assumed the role as lead detective. He had every detective and some patrol officers reviewing Chris's old cases for possible suspects. Officer Parker Reynolds volunteered his off time, and Police Chief Raiford Reynolds left the comfort of his office to lend a hand.
Chris had not even been on duty when she had been killed. She and Trista had been shopping at the strip mall. Since Trista was learning to drive, Chris had given her the car keys. Trista unlocked the driver's door, and Chris dropped on the other side of the car.
The milling shoppers near the Gautier car had fallen behind the nearest cover at the loud sound, not sure what they had heard. Only one shot had been fired. No one else had been hit. Chris had obviously been the sole target. Baker believed it had to be related to an old case.
The only thing her teenage daughter could recall was seeing her mother fall and the air being extremely cold for June in the Deep South. Baker read over the statements and shivered. "Shit." He called his boss.
Ray answered with trepidation. "What now?"
"Did you read this part about cold air?"
Rubbing his head as a migraine crept up, Ray said, "Are you suggesting some form of spiritual warfare?"
"Hey, it was freezing when we took Latrice down, and it was like ice in court with Mia."
"Yeah. I'm sort of tired of any demon Latrice might have unleashed."
"Me too, but it's weird again."
"Let's meet at the crime scene."
Ray and Brian met and went over everything again.
The investigation followed the
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