Count to Ten (40 page)

Temporary.
He was beginning to dislike that word. But she was right. He hadn’t planned to oust Lauren from her side of the duplex forever.
So for how long had you planned to have Mia stay? Until your craving was satisfied? Until you got tired of her?

Yes. No.
Hell.
“And us?”

She was perfectly calm and his heart was pounding which irritated the hell out of him. “For as long as we want to continue. Let’s get to work. Beacon Inn, please.”

Jaw tight, he pulled into traffic and made it to the next light when her cell phone rang.

“This is Mitchell... Yeah, put him through. Mr. Secrest, what can I do for you?” She bolted upright. “When?... Have you touched anything?... Fine. We’ll be right there.”

Reed pulled into the left lane to do a U-turn back toward Hope Center. “What?”

“Jeff DeMartino is dead.”

Friday, December 1, 8:55 A.M.

“He didn’t respond to the morning wake-up call so the guard called the nurse,” Secrest said. “The nurse called me and I called you.” The boy lay on his back, skin waxen, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. CSU was already snapping pictures.

“When was the last time anybody saw him alive?” Mia demanded.

“The guards check every room in this unit every thirty minutes during the night. He was here in his bed.” Secrest looked frustrated. “The closest anybody can remember seeing him walking, talking, and breathing was last night at nine thirty. That’s his group’s assigned shower hour.”

“Excuse me.” Sam Barrington stepped inside the room, filling it further.

“We got the big guns this time,” Mia murmured and Reed hushed her.

“Nobody’s touched him, Sam,” Reed said.

“Where’s the nurse? I want his medical history five -minutes ago.”

Secrest held it out. “She pulled his file right after she called me.”

“Where is she?” Sam repeated, pulling on gloves. “I want her
here.
”

Secrest gave the folder to Mia with a scowl. “She’s in the infirmary. I’ll call her.”

Sam crouched close to examine the boy. “Spinnelli asked me to come. The victim’s been dead at least ten hours. No obvious wounds or trauma... except...”

Reed stepped to Sam’s left, Mia to his right. “Except what?” she asked.

“This.” Sam held up the boy’s hand. “He’s got a cut on his thumb and it’s fresh.”

“Before-dead fresh or after-dead fresh?” she asked.

“Before.
Just
before.” Sam stared down at the boy. “Let me see his file.” Mia passed it to him and Sam scanned. “He was healthy. No heart issues, no asthma.”

“Just a little cut,” Mia mused. “Where’s the blood from the cut?”

“There’s a smudge on the blanket,” the CSU tech said. “Right on the edge.”

“On the middle of the bed,” she said. “Like he was sitting there and wiped it. You see a knife?”

The tech shook his head. “It could be under him.”

“You done with the pictures?” Sam asked the tech. “Then let’s roll him. Gently.” Sam and Reed lifted and Mia crowed.

“There it is,” she said. “Jackknife with the blade pulled out.” It lay flat on the bed.

“Don’t touch it,” Sam snapped when she reached a gloved hand under the body. “If it’s what I’m thinking, you don’t want to touch it.”

Mia’s brows went up. “Poison?”

“Yeah.” Sam crouched down, shone a flashlight at the boy’s bare back. “From the lividity and the bruising, I’d say he was lying on the hilt of the knife before he died.”

“He fell on it,” she said thoughtfully. “Now, where would Jeff get a knife?”

“Same place Manny got matches?” Reed countered.

“Looks like Manny may have been telling the truth. Did you look at those matches?”

Reed shook his head. “No, but I want to now.”

Sam looked from Reed to Mia. “You’re thinking they were booby-trapped.”

“Yeah.” Reed nodded and turned to where Secrest stood watching from the doorway. “Do you still have the matches you found in Manny’s room?”

Secrest nodded. “In my office. I’ll get them for you.”

Mia held up her hand. “Mr. Secrest, just a minute, please. Who were the boys in Jeff’s group? The one’s who shared the shower hour?”

“Jeff, Manny, Regis Hunt, and Thaddeus Lewin. The boys call Thad ‘Faggeus.’” An uncomfortable expression tightened Secrest’s face. “Thad was taken to the clinic Thanksgiving night.”

“For?” Mia asked.

“He complained of a stomachache,” the nurse said. “But he’d been assaulted.”

Secrest moved so that the nurse could get through. She stood looking at Jeff with a curious mixture of contempt and... satisfaction that made Reed frown.

“Assaulted how?” Reed asked and she looked up, met his eyes.

“Thad was sodomized. There was rectal tearing. He denied it happened.”

“And you think Jeff did it,” Reed said quietly.

She nodded. “But Thad wouldn’t talk. All the boys were afraid of Jeff.”

“Which is why you’re glad he’s dead,” Mia said and the nurse’s eyes went hard.

“I’m not glad he’s dead.” She shrugged. “Per se. But he was a vile, angry, mean boy. We were terrified of what he would do when he was released next month. Now we don’t have to be afraid anymore.” Suddenly she snapped her gaze up to Secrest. “Thad had a visitor Thanksgiving night. Devin White. Thad called him.”

“Your trigger,” Reed murmured.

“You’re right,” Mia murmured back, then cleared her throat. “I’d like to take Thad and Regis Hunt downtown for a chat. Line up your advocates and have them meet us there.” She looked around. “Where’s Bixby? I would have thought he’d be here for this.”

Again Secrest looked uncomfortable. “He hasn’t arrived yet.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. I’ll get a unit to his house and an APB for his car.”

Friday, December 1, 10:10 A.M.

The manager at the Beacon Inn was irritable. “Excuse me,” Mia said.

He didn’t look up. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll need to wait your turn.”

The customer at the counter smirked. “End of the line’s down there,” the man said.

“Want me to teach him some manners?” Reed murmured behind her and she huffed a chuckle, ignoring the shiver that raced down her spine. This was why she didn’t do cops and why it was against regulations to do partners. Even temporary ones. It was too damn hard to concentrate. She’d pulled off being cool and collected when he’d asked “about us” but it had taken everything she’d had. Now she focused on the hotel manager, who’d made the unfortunate choice to ignore her.

“No, let me.” She slapped her shield on the counter. “Take a break, pal.”

The manager’s look was murderous as his eyes lifted. “What now?”

Mia frowned at him. “What do you mean, ‘What now?’ You, wait over there,” she said to the customer who was no longer smug. “I’m Detective Mitchell, Homicide. This is my partner, Lieutenant Solliday, OFI. What do you mean, ‘What now?’”

“Homicide? I was afraid of that.” His eyes filled with weary resignation. “I’m sorry. Half my staff is out with the flu and my assistant manager never showed up for her shift this morning. I’m Chester Preble. How can I help you?”

“First, tell me what’s happened here,” she said, softening her tone.

“Officers in uniform came by this morning, checking out a missing person report. Niki Markov. She checked in Wednesday and her husband called Thursday morning. Said she wasn’t answering her phone. I told him perhaps she’d stepped out.” He shrugged uneasily. “People come here to get away from their spouses, if you know what I mean. We try to be discreet.”

“But the husband filed a missing person report,” Mia said, instinct sending a new shiver down her spine. “And she hasn’t come back.”

“She wasn’t due to check out until today. Her clothes are still hanging in her closet.”

“What room is she in?” Mia asked.

“Room 129. I can take you to it if you give me just a -minute to check out the people who have planes to catch.”

“Sir,” she said sharply, “this is a homicide investigation. These people have to wait.”

“You found her... body, then?” he asked, some of the color draining from his face.

“No. I’m investigating another homicide. A couple who checked out Wednesday were killed last night. Joe and Donna Dougherty. Can you see what room they were in?”

He tapped a few keys, then all his remaining color drained away. “Room 129.”

“Hell,” Solliday murmured.

Mia raked her fingers through her hair. She had a headache brewing. “Yeah.”

Friday, December 1, 10:50 A.M.

“You rang?” Jack asked and came into room 129 with his CSU team, all wearing white coveralls.

“Niki Markov, reported missing. This was Joe and Donna Dougherty’s room until Wednesday,” Mia said.

“You think he came, thinking they were still here,” Jack said. “And found Markov.”

“Her clothes are in the closet,” Solliday said. “But all her suitcases are gone. Those are her sales materials stacked there on the bed.”

Jack grimaced as he grasped what she and Solliday had already surmised. “Oh God.” Then he gave a brisk nod to his team. “Start checking this room,” he said. “I’ll check out the bathroom.” Quickly, capably, he removed the trap from the tub. “We’ll check it for hair and... other stuff.” He then treated the shower tiles with Luminol. Thirty minutes later, he turned out the lights.

Every surface glowed. For a few beats, the three of them just stared.

“That’s a hell of a lot of blood,” Jack finally said. “Given the suitcases are gone, I think a reasonable assumption is—”

“That he dismembered her,” Mia finished grimly. “Good God. I’m losing count.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Caitlin, Penny, Thompson, Brooke and Roxanne...”

“Joe and Donna,” Solliday added quietly. “Jeff and now Niki Markov. That’s nine.”

She looked at him. “Count to ten?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Maybe. Although he had nothing against this woman.”

“She was an accident,” she murmured. “Like Caitlin. Wrong place, very wrong time.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Jack said. “In all this mess, he had to have left something.”

“And I’ll get the information on her next of kin. I got the number for Donna’s from her boss on the way over.” She sighed, dreading the task as she dreaded no other. “Then I’ll tell Markov’s husband and Donna Dougherty’s mother that they’re dead.”

“I’ll tell them,” Reed said. “You don’t have to do that alone, Mia.”

She nodded wearily, surprising him. “All right. Call us when you find something, Jack. We’ll see if he took -Markov’s car. Hopefully we’ll find her body.”

Friday, December 1, 11:50 A.M.

Jenny Q slid her tray next to Beth’s and sat down. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I do know I’m not missing this, Jenny. He’s being so damn stubborn.”

Jenny sighed. “And I had my sister all ready to cover for us. Cost me, too.”

Beth squared her jaw. “I’ll just... leave,” she said and Jenny laughed.

“No, you won’t. You’re not going to just walk out with him screaming behind you.”

“No,” Beth agreed. “I’ll find another way.”

Friday, December 1, 1:30 P.M.

“I’d hoped for a suspect in custody,” Spinnelli said quietly. “Not two more bodies.”

They had regrouped. Mia sat between Murphy and Aidan, and Reed had been joined by Miles Westphalen. Sam sat at the far end of the table and Jack was still at the Beacon Inn, processing the Markov crime scene. Reed brooded, still depressed from breaking the news to two families that the people they loved were never coming home.

He didn’t deal with death often in his role as a fire investigator. The apartment fire last year was the biggest loss of life he’d dealt with in his career. He couldn’t fathom how Mia dealt with the families day after day for all the years she’d been with Homicide.

Across the table, she sighed. “We don’t know where he is, but we’re getting closer to motive. It had something to do with the kid’s, Thad’s, assault. We’ve got Thad Lewin and Regis Hunt in separate interview rooms. We’ll talk to them when we’re done here.”

“I found the solid accelerant on the matches Secrest found in Manny’s shoe,” Reed said. “If Manny had lit one he would have been severely burned.”

“Secrest checked the security tapes for White’s classroom for Tuesday, the day they searched Manny’s room,” she said. “He saw White pause next to Manny’s desk. He might have dropped the matches in his shoes then, or not. But he did find White on video dropping the knife into Jeff’s open backpack.”

“Did they check the third boy’s room? Regis Hunt?” Aidan asked.

“Secrest found another knife in Hunt’s room,” Mia said.

“Coated with D-tubocurarine,” Sam said. “Both knives were coated with it. And I found it in the victim’s urine tox.”

Reed frowned. “Tubocurarine? Are you sure?”

“I did the rush urine tox myself,” Sam answered. “I never saw a curare victim before and I was interested. My initial take is that the victim died of respiratory failure.”