Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (26 page)

She was exhausted.

Stacy walked over to her bag and took out a vial.

“Mark? Open your eyes, baby. Do you know what this is?” She held the bottle close to his face and smiled as he tried to focus on it.

“No? It’s called hydrochloric acid. You familiar with it? Probably not but let’s do a science experiment, shall we?”

Stacy opened the vial. Mark’s eyes rolled back in his head as his body quivered. Then she poured, beginning with his legs. His skin sizzled and popped, melting away as the acid ate at his flesh.

Stacy thought about hitting him with her knife a few more times but was having way too much fun with the acid for now. She held the vile over his eyes and slowly dripped the acid into each of them.  Mark roared in pain.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Stacy yelled.

Mark was still sobbing, so Stacy decided to stop him on her own. She poured the acid around Mark’s lips and watched as pieces of his face oozed away.

“Goddamn! You look like shit. You look like that character from
Batman.
What’s his name? Come on. Help me out here, Mark. Two-Face! That’s it. You look like a real-life fucking Two-Face. Good for you, Mark.”

Mark lay motionless and silent.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t know that shit was so strong. I really wanted you to suffer longer. Maybe I should have diluted it or something, huh?”

Stacy checked his pulse. It was weak, but she wasn’t done with him. She grabbed her knife and came back to finish him off.

Lift, lower, stab. Lift, lower, stab. Again and again and again. She delivered blow after blow to his chest until she could no longer lift her arm. Exhausted, Stacy dropped the knife and slumped over onto Mark’s lifeless body.

She took off her rubber gloves and jumped in the shower. She took out a sundress from her bag and slid it on. She had panties in the bag but decided not to bother with them. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn’t showing yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. Stacy thought about leaving a calling card for Porter, but she wanted to kill a few more of the cops on her list first. There was probably GPS on Romero’s phone, but by the time they found him she’d be long gone, and nothing here could tie her to the scene.

Stacy peeked outside to make sure no one saw her leaving. She walked about a mile to a convenience store, found an Uber driver, and scheduled a pick up.

Chapter 64

I had two members of my team already in place. I hoped Lafitte would be joining us soon. The Rapist Killers Club was our first official assignment. Fingers, De Luca, and I spent time scouring websites looking for breadcrumbs, any clues Stacy and Brittany might have left on their murderous trek across I-10.

The chase had gone cold. We were analyzing more murders than I ever had at any one time. And not just in Houston—nationwide. We scoured every murder that even vaguely looked like something Stacy might have been responsible for. So far we’d come up empty. Maybe she took a sabbatical to mourn the loss of her sister. Perps often did that. It would explain why she’d suddenly become so quiet. I knew she wouldn’t remain in hiding forever, but when she resumed her killing, where would she be? If she left no DNA at the scene, pinning her to something would be next to impossible.
What if she stopped leaving her calling cards for me?
David thought.

The more people she killed, the more blood she felt was directly on my hands. In her sick, twisted mind, the murders were my fault instead of hers. She wouldn’t stop killing until she was dead or in jail.

We made sure her picture was everywhere. We got it out nationally and hoped every beat cop and department in the country had their eye out for Stacy. Sadly, the pictures we had were outdated. Hell, her hair could be purple, and she could be sporting green contacts. Even those two simple changes would allow her to walk right past a cop without a second glance.

Two weeks passed with no new leads, and then everything changed.

My desk phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

“Detective Porter, this is Michael Ozzo NYPD Homicide Division. Do you have a minute?”

I sat up straight.  “Sure, detective. What can I do for you?”

Just then I heard the
ding
of my laptop’s email notification. I listened to Ozzo as I logged in.

What he said next chilled me to the bone.

“We think we have your killer here in New York. Someone killed an officer here two nights ago. Stabbed him over one hundred times. Most gruesome, sickening thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been a cop for over thirty years. Poured some kind of acid all over him, too. Real horror movie shit.”

As Ozzo talked, I scanned my email.  It confirmed a hit on Stacy’s blood. She was definitely their killer.

“You there, Porter?”

“Yes, sorry. Go ahead.”

“One of our own gets killed, we pull out all the stops. I’m sure you can appreciate that. We worked and worked on Officer Romero’s body and finally got what we were looking for. Found a trace of blood that didn’t belong to our guy and ran it through all the databases. Sometimes, you know, these overkill stabbers cut themselves. Knife handle gets slick; they’re going ape shit. It’s bound to happen. She probably didn’t even realize she was cut till she left and the adrenaline wore off. Anyways, got a hit on a Stacy Demornay, aka Lisa Crease, and a note to notify you if there was a positive hit. So who the hell is this girl?”

“Well, Ozzo, as you found out for yourself, she’s an extremely dangerous woman. I’m going to tell you something you aren’t going to want to hear right now. She’s part of a gang of women who go around hunting down rapists. So if she killed your guy, either he was a rapist or she thought he was. Honestly, I haven’t found them to be wrong yet.”

“She some goddamn vigilante or something? Mark never raped anyone. That’s bullshit, Porter. Give the dead guy a little respect.”

“All I’m saying is that’s who she targets. She’s a rape victim. So was her sister. The two of them and another woman started a Rapist Killers Club to go after rapists. They’re seeking justice for all rape victims out there. My Major Crimes Division here in Houston has been tracking them, but we’ve been a step behind for much of the investigation. If she’s unaware that she left a trace of her own blood at the scene, it might be the big break we needed. Was there a note left at the scene for me?”

“A note?”

“Yes. She normally taunts me with a note or a calling card after each killing.”

“No note.”

“Romero a good cop? He have any troubles?”

There was silence on the other end. I knew if Stacy had killed this man, he must have been a discipline problem. And undoubtedly a rapist.

“Some of the boys thought he might be banging prostitutes in exchange for not arresting them. Plus, he’d been put on leave a few times for some other shit.”

“Wait, what? He was—”

“Yeah, you heard me right. That was the rumor.”

“That’s it, Ozzo. Stacy must have found out what he was up to. I bet that’s how she got him alone. He probably picked her up and tried to have sex with her. She trapped him when he thought he was trapping her. He was forcing prostitutes to have sex against their will to avoid charges. It’s rape any way you slice it.”

“I’m not telling anyone about that right now, Porter. Everyone here is hurting. The department’s on high alert, ready to burst.”

“I understand. Listen, my team and I will be in New York tonight. Keep all of this, even the blood match, to yourself. This may be our big break. If Stacy doesn’t know I’m coming, she won’t be running from me. In the meantime, see if you can find out where Romero typically picked up girls. I want to interview some of the girls when I get there.”

Ozzo laughed. “Interview whores? What do you expect to get from a bunch of prostitutes?”

“Please just get the information for me. I gotta run. I’ll see you tonight, Ozzo. And thank you.”

Chapter 65

I called a quick meeting with De Luca and Fingers to fill them in on what I’d learned from Ozzo.

“So when do we leave for New York?” De Luca said.

“You and I will leave tonight. I’ve already made travel arrangements. Fingers, we may need you; if so, I’ll shoot you a text or call. I’m not leaving New York without Stacy, one way or the other.”

I left the office and went home to gather my things. I knew Miranda and the girls wouldn’t like this one bit. We’d just gotten back together and settled into a somewhat normal routine, and I was already running off again. Hunting down bad guys. Being away from my girls was the only part of my job I didn’t like. That and getting shot at, I suppose.

I parked my truck in the driveway and headed for the house. I wasn’t looking forward to telling them I was leaving.

Miranda was waiting for me at the door. I guess my face gave me away.

“What’s wrong?” she said before I could open my mouth.

“I’ve got to leave. Tonight. We got a huge lead on Stacy’s whereabouts. I think I know where she is. DNA evidence isn’t usually wrong.”

She put her hands on my shoulders. “Where? The girls are going to be devastated, David.”

I shook my head. “I know they are, but I have to end this.”

I heard footsteps bolting down the stairs. “Daddy!” Karen cried as she leapt into my arms.

“Hey, princess. How was your day? Did you do anything fun? ”

“Me and mommy always have fun, silly.”

“I bet you do. Where’s Hilary?” I kissed the top of Karen’s head and set her on the ground.

“She’s out with friends,” Miranda said. “When do you have to leave? It’s almost Thanksgiving David; you can’t miss Thanksgiving.”

Karen crossed her arms and pouted. “Where are you going? Why are you leaving again?”

“You know Daddy chases bad people. It’s my job, and I do it to protect all the good people, like you and Mommy.”

I scooped Karen up and tossed her on the couch. I tickled her, smiling as her sweet giggles warmed my heart. Nothing made me feel better on the inside than seeing joy in my little girl.

Finally, she pushed away from me. “Don’t think I forgot that you’re leaving me, mister. I’m still mad about that.”

I laughed. “I know you didn’t forget. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

She held up her hand. “Pinky promise?”

“Yes, pinky promise.”

I kept a bag ready for emergency trips, and this no doubt qualified. I tossed in a couple extra shirts and headed back downstairs. I hugged Karen and told Miranda how much I loved her.

“I promise I won’t miss Thanksgiving,” I said as I headed out the door. 

I met up with De Luca at our terminal a half hour before our flight was set to leave.

“You all set?” De Luca said as she walked up to me.

“Yup. We got about a, what, four hour flight? That should give me time to make it through both of these.”

I held up two books on forensic psychology.

“Is there anything else out there for you to learn on the subject?”

“The more I learn in life, the more I realize I don’t know. Funny how that works.”

“Meh. I got something much lighter.”

She held up her copy of
Fifty Shades of Grey
.

I laughed. “I don’t know if Paul is into that whole submissive thing.”

“Very funny, Porter. So if you know that much, I suppose you’ve read it?”

I didn’t reply. It was more fun to keep her guessing.

The flight to New York was uneventful. We waited for our bags and then headed outside to catch a cab.

“So what’s the plan, Porter?” De Luca asked while we waited.

“We need to meet with Ozzo. First thing we need to do is find out what Stacy looks like now. Then I want to head over to the spot where Romero had been picking up girls.”

“I agree. Someone had to see something.”

We waited another ten minutes for the first available cab.

“Where to?” the cabbie said after we got loaded in.

“43
rd
Precinct, the Bronx,” I said.

He peered at me in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to blow the place up. We’re police officers,” I said, flashing my badge.

I sent Ozzo a text letting him know we’d touched down and were on our way to see him.

I stared out of the window. Even though I’d made many trips to New York, the city never ceased to amaze me. Here it was, almost midnight, but you wouldn’t know it by the level of activity. Every street corner, nook, and cranny was bustling with movement.