Splintered (22 page)

The anger seemed to drain from Byte. He tipped his soda can and downed the contents, then threw the can across the room, hitting the trash can with a perfect shot. “Well, if I’m going to contribute, I better get my ass back to work.”

“I’ll sit here and try not to annoy the babysitter,” Noah responded with a wry grin.

“Fuck that! You’re going to help me with all this data.”

“I am?”

Byte strode across the room and grabbed a large stack of papers from a side table and plopped it down next to Noah. “You start reading off data while I type.”

Noah snatched up the first paper and studied it. Names, dates, physical descriptions, addresses, blah, blah. “I’m sorry I opened my mouth,” Noah grumbled good-naturedly.

“Suck it up, buttercup. We got a madman to catch,” Byte retorted and picked up his laptop.

Chapter 21

H
UTCH
STOOD
behind the podium with a multitude of microphones attached to it, and twice as many pointed at him from the sea of reporters, shoving and crowding each other to get closer to the action. He hated this shit, had never been comfortable addressing a crowd since his brain-to-mouth filter rarely worked and he ended up dropping the f-bomb on national television. Oh well, it had to be done. He wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and cleared his throat.

“I’m Special Agent Todd Hutchinson. The FBI in combination with Jefferson County and Oak Park, as well as numerous other investigative agencies, are working together to bring a killer to justice. Not just any killer, but a cowardly serial killer who is nothing more than a bully preying upon those smaller and weaker than he is. I can assure you, it’s only a matter of time before we are knocking on his door and putting this piece of sh—this degenerate behind bars.”

There were gasps and rumblings from the crowd, as well as some nasty glares from the higher-ups in attendance, but Hutch didn’t care. This little public appearance, while a warning for the public, was basically a direct message. It might be completely unconventional, unprofessional, and crude, but stopping a killer was more important than worrying about image and bureaucratic bullshit. He’d deal with the fallout later.

“We are currently putting together a task force. It will be composed of thirty-six officers from eight jurisdictions, as well as an additional six detectives to review the cases of the known victims and the likeliest suspects. There will also be a special team of undercover officers to patrol the hottest areas from which the victims disappeared. Further details on this team will not be shared with the public. I will take just a couple of questions before turning it over to Captain Crosby. You,” Hutch encouraged as he pointed to an eager-looking man in the second row.

“Logan Aubin from WJJT. It’s been rumored that the killings began as early as 2007. If that is true, why is the public only now learning of a serial killer at work?”

“The cases weren’t connected initially as they were spread out over numerous jurisdictions.”

The crowd roared, all shouting out their questions at the same time. Hutch ignored them and pointed to a patiently waiting older gentleman with his hand raised. “You there, in the blue shirt.” The crowd instantly quieted.

“Thank you, Agent Hutchinson. Darrell Metcalf from
Queer Town Press
. Does the lack of connection and investigation into the deaths have anything to do with the fact that all the victims were gay?”

“I can only speak for myself and my team, but I don’t give a shit about sex, age, religion, or sexual orientation. I chase each scumbag with the same tenacity. I have a nearly flawless record of takedown and arrest, and no offense to the other officers, but had I been called in after the first victim, this insignificant maggot would already be rotting in iron and concrete.”

The stunned looks and roar of the crowd barely registered as Hutch stomped away from the podium. He left Captain Crosby from Jefferson to clean up the mess and give the actual statistics and such. The captain hadn’t been real enthusiastic about what Hutch was going to do—in fact, he’d balked and tried to put a stop to it. Hutch had calmly reminded the good captain that he and his agents didn’t work for the county, and unless the captain wanted to have the incompetence of his force pointed out on the six o’clock news, he had better not interfere. Obviously Hutch had gotten his way. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and now he’d have to draw from his limited reserves of patience and wait for the killer to make his next move.

“Holy fuck! Did you see the way the captain’s eyes were bugging out of his head?” Granite laughed.

“He did seem a little upset with my methods,” Hutch agreed with a sly smile.

“If that ain’t the understatement of the century. I was hiding behind the guy in front of me, watching the captain’s face get redder and redder. I was sure the dude’s head was going to explode. Kaboom!” Granite hollered as he threw his hands out.

“Yeah, well, we avoided that explosion. Let’s hope this whole thing doesn’t blow up in our faces and we end up with even more bodies on our hands. Did you see anything out of the ordinary, suspicious?”

“Other than a hundred people all pissing themselves in shock? No. Did you really expect me to?” Granite asked as he stopped next to the car and looked over the top of it with a raised brow at Hutch.

“Get in the car, smartass,” Hutch grumbled and slid behind the wheel.

“It is smart, and firm too,” Granite drawled as he got in the car and buckled his seat belt.

“Shut up,” Hutch huffed and fired up the engine. He had carefully maneuvered out of the packed parking lot and gotten them on the road before either of them said another word.

“How long do you think before this guy contacts us?” Granite asked, all joking set aside.

Hutch stared out at the road ahead, a sickening feeling settling into his gut. He had no issue with the bastard coming after him, he’d be more than happy to go toe to toe with the nut bag, but…. He ran a hand over his jaw and rolled his neck as the tension in his muscles caused them to cramp.

“I think it will be fairly quickly. I just hope that his response isn’t another body propped up and displayed, ya know?”

“I can tell by the look on your face what you’re thinking, and it’s utter bullshit, so knock it off,” Granite demanded, waving a finger warningly at Hutch.

“Oh really? And just what in the hell do you think I’m thinking?” Hutch snapped.

“You’re thinking if it happens, it will be your fault. But you know as well as I do unless we stop him, it won’t be one body but an unmeasurable number of corpses.” Granite shifted in the seat until he was looking Hutch straight on. “Look, I wish I could tell you he won’t respond by taking another victim, but I can’t. What I can tell you with absolute fucking certainty is that you did the right thing.”

Hutch didn’t turn to meet Granite’s gaze, instead kept his attention on the road. He didn’t know how to respond or even if he should. There was no sense arguing with Granite. On some level Hutch knew he was right, the notion irrational, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just caused the death of another man. It was another mark to add to his tarnished soul. The silence in the car became thick.

Hutch knew Granite was waiting for some kind of response, but instead of making a comment on Granite’s conviction, he asked, “You hungry? Should we stop and get something before we head back to the hotel?”

“No. I want you to tell me I’m right,” Granite said adamantly.

“Burgers or Chinese?”

“Goddammit, Hutch!”

“Chinese, it is.”

Granite flopped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are a stubborn son of a bitch,” he grumbled.

Hutch didn’t need to respond; his stubbornness was well established. Instead, he shrugged and pulled in front of a Chinese takeout place just a block from the hotel. He wasn’t hungry, but it was a great way to officially end the conversation when he stepped out of the car.

T
HE
SCENTS
of something sugary-sweet, basily chicken, much like those that wafted from Noah’s favorite Chinese restaurant, followed Hutch as he came through the door with a large box. Noah’s belly growled, reminding him he’d only had a danish since earlier that morning.

“Here’s the movie star now. Can I get your autograph?” Byte drawled, holding out a pen toward Hutch.

“No, but you can be my little bitch.” Hutch shoved the box at him.

“Ooh, smells good! Did you remember my wanton-kitty?”

Granite whapped Byte on the back of the head as he got up and took the food to the counter. “No eating pussy in front of company.”

Noah tried to cover his laughter with his hand, but he ended up choking on it, a strange sound escaping him, which caused all eyes to turn toward him. “Sorry,” he muttered. His cheeks heated when Hutch met his gaze and smiled broadly.

Christ, the man could make him all aflutter with just a look. Sexy bastard.

“You hungry?” Hutch asked.

“I could eat.” Noah scooted off the bed, and his gut rumbled again loudly. “Guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“Wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a little bit of everything,” Hutch informed him as he pulled his smokes from his pocket and headed toward the balcony. Noah couldn’t help but stare at Hutch’s impressive backside as he moved.

“You’re not eating?” Byte called out as he filled the counter with a dozen small white boxes.

“I will later,” he informed them and closed the sliding door behind him.

“What’s up with him?” Noah asked as he continued to stare at Hutch beyond the glass door.

“He’s having a little bit of a meltdown,” Granite drawled.

“Meltdown?” Noah asked in alarm. “About what?”

“He’s having one of his moments,” Granite responded, picking up one of the containers and sniffing it. “He’s questioning if he did the right thing, worried he may have caused the death of another victim, and he refuses to listen to reason.”

“That’s ridiculous! This guy is going to keep killing. Who knows how many bodies he’ll pile up if he isn’t stopped!” Noah argued.

“That’s pretty much what I told him,” Granite said. “Although I may have used a few more colorful words than you did.”

Both Granite and Byte started piling food onto paper plates. Noah glanced back and forth between them and Hutch.

By the time they took their plates to the small table, Noah couldn’t stand it anymore. “Isn’t someone going to go talk to him?”

“Be my guest,” Byte muttered around a big bite of food. “But I’m going to warn you, he’s a bit bullheaded, and until he’s done with his pouting, he’s not going to listen to anyone.”

“You might as well grab a plate,” Granite added. “It may be a while.”

“Days,” Byte snorted. “Remember that time in Albuquerque?”

“The Basher case. Oh. My. God. That tantrum was epic!” Granite hooted.

Noah wasn’t paying attention to the two of them as they laughed at Hutch’s expense, too busy watching Hutch as he leaned over the railing, the tension in his frame obvious as he blew out a stream of smoke.

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

Byte and Granite continue to laugh and ramble on, something about Hutch brooding in a hotel room for days. Noah didn’t find any humor in it, but rather his heart ached for Hutch. He knew what it felt like to be so personally invested in a case that you blamed yourself for death. He pulled the sliding door open and stepped out, shutting it behind him before leaning against the railing next to Hutch and staring at the cityscape beyond.

After a long, drawn-out moment, Noah finally asked, “You okay?”

“Fine,” Hutch said tightly and blew out another stream of smoke.

“I was talking to—”

“I know what they’re saying,” Hutch interrupted. “And honestly I’m fine. This is how I deal with shit. I overthink, overanalyze, beat myself up, then get over it and get my job done.”

“Oh. Okay. Well… if you ever want to talk or vent, I’m a great listener.”

Noah started to turn, planning on heading back inside to give Hutch time to stew, but Hutch grabbed his forearm. “I still wouldn’t mind the company while I pout,” he said with a bit of a smile.

Noah’s pulse quickened as he looked into Hutch’s dark eyes and felt the man touching him. “Sure,” he managed to get out even though his throat had gone dry. Good God, he was acting like a silly schoolboy, something Hutch reduced him to quite easily.

They stood next to each other, staring out at the city as dark clouds began to roll in, the scent of rain heavy in the air. Hutch smoked a second cigarette as the time ticked by, but Noah wasn’t in any hurry for it to be over, nor did the silence bother him. As crazy as it sounded, he felt as if he were somehow helping, supporting Hutch while he worked things out in his head, even if they didn’t speak.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Hutch broke the silence. “Did you watch the press conference?”

“Of course I did.”

“What did you think?”

“I think you pissed off a couple of the suits, and the news channels might be scurrying to bleep out a few curse words, but I thought it was great!” Noah said adamantly.