Deadly Dreams (20 page)

It was just four of them tonight. Jonas was on the job. Which was just as well, Johnny figured. The pansy ass would probably freak out at the news.

It had been Hans’s idea to get together again. They needed to compare notes, he’d insisted. Had to keep on top of this thing. And the others deserved to know about Sean and Johnson.

So they sat there at the corner booth, each nursing a beer. Johnny couldn’t help wondering if anyone else had the same thought that was swirling around in his head.

Which one of them would be next to burn.

Juan and Jack sat across from him and he could almost smell their fear. He wanted to think he didn’t have the same stench. Almost believed it.

“So this task force has some woman on it. Some sort of consultant.” Jack looked at his companions over the top of his beer as he took a long swig. After he put the bottle down he continued. “Chandler’s her name. Did a little digging around. Used to be on the force.”

“Yeah, I heard that, too.” Hans loosened a corner of the bottle’s label with his thumbnail. “Works for a private outfit now. Adam Raiker runs it, if you’ve heard of him.”

“Wasn’t he the mole they found in the bureau? Sold secrets to the Israelis or something?”

Hans flicked a rolled-up piece of the label at Juan. “No, you dick. He was the fed’s top profiler who brought down John LeCroix about eight years ago, that perv that killed twenty-seven kids.”

The other man hunched over his beer. “Knew the name sounded familiar,” he muttered.

“He’s got his own firm now. With his rep, he can hire the best, so Chandler must have some chops if she’s working for him.”

Jack looked worried. “I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “The task force is sniffing around Javon Emmons. McGuire wants to talk to him.”

Johnny felt the spaghetti he’d downed tonight begin a slow burning rise in his chest. “Shit. How do you know that?”

“Because he told me, that’s how.” The man twisted the gay-looking earring he wore. He’d always claimed it was part of the street guise, but Johnny had never been too sure. “He called wanting some information on him, said something about him being a possible wit to Giovanni’s murder.”

“What?” Johnny was dumbfounded. “You think he might have been involved?”

“Hell no. He has no way of even knowing Giovanni. He’s always dealt with me. McGuire’s on the wrong track, but he’s got officers beating the streets looking for him. I told Emmons to lay low for a while.”

Hans eyed him consideringly. “You’re going to have to tell him go in and talk to McGuire at some point.”

Jack shook his head stubbornly and took a long pull from his beer. “I don’t see why. If Emmons wants to keep a low profile, believe me, he can stay lost for as long as he wants.”

“But he can’t,” the older man explained patiently. “He’s got business to conduct, and he’ll be too cocky and stupid to stay put. So he’ll get scooped up the next time he ventures out to conduct a deal, get caught with something incriminating probably, and then we have a bigger mess on our hands than him going in to answer a few questions. We have enough to deal with right now without having to worry about bailing out one of our dumb-ass business partners.”

Jack clutched the bottle until his knuckles turned white. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your ass on the line if he says the wrong thing.”

“Bullshit,” Johnny put in. Jesus, the guy was acting so fucking stupid he wanted to kill him himself. And Juan sitting over there was no better. Tearing his napkin into little balls as if that were going to help anything. “It’s all our asses on the line. If one goes down, we’re all in danger. What you need to do is coach your boy very carefully before he goes in. You can control him, right?”

Jack rubbed a hand over the graying stubble on his jaw nervously. “Yeah, of course.”

“Then lay it on the line for him. Let him waltz in, then waltz out again. McGuire is going to know what Emmons is into, but it doesn’t play into the investigation. At least not as far as I’ve heard.” He shot a sideways look at Hans.

“Johnny’s right. Better to let them talk to Emmons on our terms. You’re the best judge of the guy. You’re the one who’s been handling him. If you don’t think he can be trusted in there, you’ll have to eliminate him.”

Jack paused in the act of lifting the bottle to his lips. “Eliminate him?” He took a drink. Set the bottle down carefully. “That isn’t necessary. I told you, he’ll do what he’s told.”

Cocksucker was lying for all he was worth, Johnny thought. Jesus, what a clusterfuck. ’Course if the tables had been turned, and it was his associate going in for questioning, he might have a few bad moments himself. They weren’t exactly in business with mental giants. And none of their associates had any particular love for cops.

“Maybe when you’re having your little discussion with Emmons, you should find out where he was the night Giovanni, Jon-O, and Johann died.”

“What?” Jack stared at him, then laughed. “You’re paranoid. There’s no way Emmons could pull something like this off.”

“The way I hear it, he dropped some poor bastard in a vat of acid for trying to move in on his territory,” Hans said dryly. “Lighting people up wouldn’t be a stretch for him.”

“I’m the only one of us he knows,” Jack pointed out. “I’m the one he’s paying off. Wouldn’t I be the first one gone if it were Emmons?”

“He has a point. We need to be looking at Johann, Jon-O, and Giovanni’s partners.”

“Except Johann had been out of the business for a year,” Juan interjected. “Retirement from the force means an end to the other business dealings. His associate would have no motive to off him now.”

Grudgingly, Johnny acknowledged that the man wasn’t as worthless as he’d seemed. But his next words had stopped him cold.

“Maybe we ought to give Sean a call. Run it all by him.” The man sent an anxious gaze from Johnny to Hans and back. “He’s a smart guy. Even being retired, he’s still got plenty of contacts, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Johnny said, as much to warn Hans to stay silent as in answer to the suggestion. He’d reconsidered sharing the discovery he’d made about Sean and Johnson with the rest of the group. Look at them. Jack was sweating like a middle schooler with his first hard-on, and Juan looked like he’d burst into tears at any minute. They didn’t need more bad news. Fear made for bad decisionmaking.

They were all dealing with enough fear.

“Johnny’s right.” Relief filled him at Hans’s words. “The fewer who know about this the better. Sean and Johnson have been out of it too long. There’s nothing they can do. We have to take care of it ourselves. So.” He slapped his palm lightly on the table and looked at each of them in turn. “What have you heard from your informants? Any scuttle on the street about this?”

Juan and Jack shook their heads. Regretfully, Johnny had to as well. “None of my people have got anything either. No gossip, no one claiming credit. Nothing.”

Hans looked thoughtful. The condensation on the bottle had moistened the label enough that he could peel the rest of it away in one piece. “I didn’t hear much either. And what I did get didn’t check out. Unusual.”

“If we’re not hearing anything, then the task force can’t be either, right?” Jack drained his beer and set it down on the table. Looked around like he needed another. “Don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“We have to stick together,” Hans told them all. “More now than ever. Way I hear it, this guy grabbed Johann when he was out for a run. Giovanni was out on an errand. Somehow the guy got into his car.”

Johnny jerked toward him. “How do you know that?”

Hans gave him a cool look and sipped from his beer. “I know people who know people. What I’m saying is, keep your weapon on you at all times. I mean, you get up in the middle of the night to take a piss, have your dick in one hand and your gun in the other.”

“Easy for you,” Juan muttered. “You don’t got kids in the house.”

“Nothing about this is easy,” Hans countered. “But we do what we have to. Jack, you put the fear of Christ Jesus in Emmons and get him in for questioning. Fewer problems that way. And you guys all be as careful as a virgin in a whorehouse.” He eyed them grimly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be readin’ about any more of us in the paper.”

Risa stopped there, the cursor blinking questioningly. There was still too much undetermined. Not enough facts to stop with what was known without reaching into conjecture.

Her boss had never been a big fan of conjecture.

But if she were relying on her gut to fill in the holes between facts, she might guess that the IDs were a message. A taunt to the next victims, guaranteed to strike fear. I’m coming for you next.

She frowned. That possibility meant the victims knew each other. Were connected in some way. And the one thing they had failed singularly at so far was finding a link between them.

And what about the kiddy police badges left at the scene? She made a note to ask Nate more about them. Some departments’ public relations officers gave out something similar when visiting schools.

She shifted her position against the pillows she had propped against the wall at the end of her bed. The laptop lay on her outstretched legs. Not exactly a position guaranteed for longterm comfort.

The badges weren’t left as insults. She’d bet on that. They meant something personal to the offender. She just couldn’t quite get an angle on what.

Serial offenders typically fell within a given age range, but she wasn’t willing to add it to the profile just yet. If she were right about these being revenge killings, the UNSUB may have served time after being put away by one of the victims. The prison stretch could put him outside the normal age boundaries.

And given him a whole a lot of time to plan his revenge.

She pressed Save and set the computer aside. She’d come full circle. Because they’d gotten very few hits on individuals who’d been arrested by more than one of the victims, and nothing had turned up on that end yet.

Her cell rang then and she reached for it, intent on answering before it could wake Hannah. She checked the caller ID before answering. “Adam.”

“We’re on your back porch. Let us in.” The terse message, followed by a dial tone was typical Raiker.

What was atypical was having him drop by at—she checked the alarm clock as she swung her feet over the bed and stood. Eleven o’clock P.M.

Yanking on a pair of shorts to go with the oversized tee she wore to bed, Risa hurried to the back door, unlocked it, and swung it wide to allow Adam and his companion inside. “Paulie.” Her smile was genuine. “How have you been?”

“Gimme a hug, kid.” She was hauled against his stout body with one long arm while his pudgy hand clapped her on the back. Then he set her apart a bit and grinned at her. “You’re looking good. You been sandbagging it? I didn’t figure a little knife wound would keep you down. What was it, again? A little Boy Scout number, wasn’t it?”

“Close,” she responded dryly, shutting the door behind them. “A bowie with an eight-inch blade.” The last time she’d seen him, he’d been hanging over the side of her hospital bed entertaining her with card tricks. “New tie?”

He was renowned for his neckwear, each of them depicting his love affair with gambling of all forms. This one was pale blue watered silk embellished with a sly-looking cat dressed as a riverboat gambler, holding a pawful of cards with a stack of flattened mice nearby to use as poker chips.

Smoothing the tie with one hand, he beamed. “Like it? Treated myself when I had a good weekend on the Riviera last month.”

“If the gossip fest is over,” Adam said dryly. Moving past them into the kitchen, he set his cane against the counter and began opening cupboards. “What do you have to drink in this place?”

Hannah frowned on alcohol use of any kind. Risa imagined it came from being on the receiving end of drunken violence meted out by Raymond. She followed Raiker around the counter and nimbly hoisted herself up on it to reach the highest cupboard over the sink.

Retrieving the bottle tucked behind dusty vases and warped Tupperware, she bent her knees and jumped to the floor again, presenting Adam with the bottle.

He studied the label, raised one dark brow. “No Scotch?”

She turned to take three juice glasses out of the cupboard next to the sink. “Did it look like I was well stocked up there?”

“Quit your bitching, Adam. At least it’s Crown.” Paulie beamed broadly and poured an overly generous splash in each glass. Adam reached out and took one of the glasses, tipped two-thirds of its contents into another, and nudged the glass with the remainder toward his colleague.

“You’re driving.”

Paulie looked woeful but picked up the glass to sip.

Risa took one of the glasses and leaned against the counter. “To what do I owe the unexpected company?”

Adam was adept at dodging direct answers. He did so now. “How’s the case progressing?”

“Three days since the last victim was found. We’ve covered a lot of ground but haven’t found a link between the three men yet, other than their occupations.”

“It’s there,” Adam said surely. He took a healthy swallow of whiskey. “The connection might not be obvious so you’ll have to look for something more nebulous. That case Ryne and Abbie worked last year, the serial rapist in Savannah? Offender was a temp nurse targeting women he came in contact with through his various jobs.”