The Devil's Spare Change 2 Malone Brothers Read online

  Her laugh was infectious. “It’s nice to know we have the same decorating style. Have a seat; everything’s ready.”

  Grabbing the plate with the potatoes from the microwave, he sat in the chair she’d indicated, but waited until she joined him before putting food on his plate. “Nice to know we have the same culinary aptitude, too.”

  “Two peas in a pod.” She handed him a basket filled with slices of garlic bread and a bowl of cranberry jelly. Sitting down across the small table from him, she began to fill her own plate with food.

  Putting a slab of butter on his potato, he grinned at the domesticity of their meal. “So, honey, how was your day at work? Anything exciting happen?”

  Grace chuckled at his teasing. It did almost feel like they were a couple having a routine dinner together. She played along. “Well, dear. I was very busy. I spent the morning doctor shopping, introducing myself, and trying to drum up some patient referrals. I hit as many as I could from the north end of Dare County. Over the next few days I’m going to do the south end and a few in Elizabeth City. The physicians I saw today were happy to hear I was opening, since there are so few PT clinics in the area outside of the hospitals.”

  “That’s good,” Sean said, as he finished preparing his plate. “Very little competition. What else did you do, Mrs. Cleaver?”

  “Mrs. Cleaver, huh? Since when did you get old enough to have watched Leave It To Beaver?”

  “Hey, at least you got the reference. Unless you’re older than forty these days, that one goes over most people’s heads.”

  She grinned. “Very true. Let’s see. I went to Staples to pick out a few filing cabinets, clipboards, pens, paper, folders, and everything else I’ll need in the office. It’s amazing how fast you can burn through a thousand dollars in that store.”

  “Holy shit,” Sean retorted almost choking on a piece of chicken. “No wonder the supply clerks are always bitching at work when I need office stuff.”

  “Yup,” she replied. “Anyway, after that I finished painting the silhouettes. Tomorrow I’ll be interviewing the PT applicants. Then all I need is the furniture and equipment to be delivered and I’ll be ready to open. Oh, and I have to go to Best Buy and get a flat screen TV for the patients to watch if they want. There tends to be a lot of lying around when you’re in PT.”

  Sean had a brief mental picture of Brian lying on one of the PT tables as Grace gave him a back massage. He quickly shook the image from his mind. Only when hell froze over, if he had anything to say about it. It took a moment to realize Grace was talking again and he tried to focus on what she was saying.

  “. . .on the radio about the three women who were murdered. That’s the case you’re working on, isn’t it?”

  He grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, what a mess, too.”

  “Want to talk about it? I mean, what you can talk about.”

  Sean shrugged. He could at least tell her what had already been released to the press, maybe a little bit more. He just couldn’t tell her about the pennies or carvings, not that he would bring those up at the dinner table anyway. “Three women in three months. All between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-two. All taken from public areas after partying somewhere. Strangled then dumped in public places—although the last one was a little more concealed than the first two . . . you sure you want to hear this over dinner?”

  Grace let out a small sigh. “It is kind of morbid table talk, isn’t it? So, what else have you been doing since you moved back?”

  They finished dinner talking about the changes they had noted around Whisper and places from their youth that were now gone. After they put their plates in the dishwasher, Sean poured them two more beers and they moved to the living room. Since the only thing not covered with boxes was the couch, they sat down at either end. Sean wanted to sit a little closer so he could smell Grace’s perfume, which had been driving him crazy all evening with a whiff here and there, but he didn’t trust himself not to try and kiss her.

  They sat and chatted for a long time about anything that came to mind before Grace let out a sudden yawn. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s not the company. It’s just been a long day.”

  Sean glanced at his watch and found it was later than he thought. “Yeah. I’d better get going or we’ll both be dragging our asses in the morning.”

  Grace stood with him and walked him to the door.

  “Thanks for dinner,” he said, turning back to her.

  She giggled. “I’m glad you liked it after I slaved over a hot stove all day to make it.”

  He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but Grace moved her head at the last moment and their lips touched. He froze for a second, in shock, then his body took over and he deepened the kiss. She was so sweet, he didn’t think he would ever forget the taste of her. And he wanted more. As her arms went around his neck, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. The moment her soft breasts touched his rock-hard chest, Grace jumped back as if struck by a jolt of electricity. They were both breathless and staring at each other with expressions of desire mixed with confusion.

  “Um . . . wow. I . . . um,” Sean stuttered then cleared his throat. “I better get going before I do something crazy like take you to bed.”

  “Yeah,” Grace agreed, swallowing hard as she tried to slow her breathing. “That would be crazy . . . just—”

  “Crazy,” he finished for her, his voice low and husky as his eyes focused on her lush lips. With a great amount of difficulty he managed to convince himself he had to leave. As much as he did want to throw her onto a bed and fuck her silly, he knew it would be best to take things slowly. Tracing a finger along her jawline, he whispered, “Goodnight, Grace.”

  Satisfaction coursed through him when she shivered. “Goodnight, Sean.”

  * * *

  “. . .and the Sheriff’s Department is not releasing any more information about the homicides at this time, but we will continue to keep the public updated. This is Jessica Daly for the Channel Four evening news.”

  George Wallace hummed a silly tune to himself as the screen returned to the male news anchor, who moved on to some inconsequential story. So, he’d made the news. This was the first time, and he felt empowered and high about the publicity. It was about time his work was acknowledged and soon people would figure out it was for the best. He was ridding the world of worthless women. Grinning, he went back to his dinner, thinking of future possibilities. Life was good—at least for him.

  * * *

  The next morning Sean sat in the conference room trying to concentrate on the N-DEx program on his laptop, but his mind kept wandering to Grace and the kiss they’d shared—brief as is was. He’d been so wound up by the time he got home he ended up taking care of his hard-on in the shower prior to climbing into bed. And yet his dreams of her had forced him to take a cold one several hours later when he awakened before sunrise.

  It was obvious they’d both enjoyed the kiss—the flames in her eyes had told him she’d been as affected by it as he had. But now, he couldn’t help but think taking things further might ruin a longtime friendship. It had been years since he’d last seen Grace, but there was still a closeness between them. Yet what did he really know about her? Fourteen years and a transition from child to adult made a big difference in a person. And what would Bonnie and Uncle Dan say? Would they be happy about a budding romance between the two or would they discourage it?

  He was so engrossed in his thoughts he never heard his brother and Rafe enter the room. Brian crept up behind him and flicked his left ear causing Sean to jump from his chair and whirl around, ready to fight. “Fuck you, asshole. Haven’t you learned yet not to do that to someone carrying a gun?”

  His brother let out a deep belly laugh. “Been doing that to you since we were little and I still get away with it. You make it too easy being in la-la land. What were you thinking about?”

  If Brian only knew where Sean’s mind had been he would be teasing him
all day. “Nothing really,” he lied, taking his seat again. “Just trying to wrap my head around this serial.”

  “What time is your profiler getting here?” Montoya asked. “I’ve never had the opportunity to work with one before, and I’m actually looking forward to it. Should be interesting after all the reading I’ve done on the subject.

  “Around two, I think. Suki’s gonna call from the road when she gets closer.”

  Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “Suki? Interesting name. Asian?”

  “She’s originally from Hawaii, but I think she once told me there was Korean in her family background. Oh, and do me a favor, guys, don’t fucking hit on her.”

  “Ah, she’s hot then,” Brian stated with a smile.

  Sighing, he shook his head. “Yes, she’s good-looking, but she’s also a good friend of mine and a respected federal agent with a doctorate, so show her some fucking respect while she’s here. Okay, asshole?”

  “If you insist.” Despite his assent, Brian sat across the table from Sean with a silly leer on his face. He loved busting his younger brother’s chops.

  Sean threw a pen at his sibling then pulled his laptop closer. It was time to stop fucking around and catch themselves a killer. While the two state detectives started adding the information they’d learned yesterday to the white boards, Sean began to enter the case parameters back into the program, which was once again up and running. Hopefully in an hour or so they’d have a potential lead or two from the system.

  After a daily morning briefing with the detective bureau’s lieutenant, Brad Lynch joined the rest of the task force. The men began throwing out ideas and theories, yet it frustrated them on how little they had to go on. It seemed like criminals were getting smarter every year with shows like CSI and NCIS on television, and websites all over the internet on how to commit a crime and get away with it.

  Just as the group was running out of ideas, Sean’s computer sounded an alert. It’d found a connection to his parameters. He quickly printed out the information and relayed it to the others. “We got a hit. A good match, too. Last year in Philadelphia. Three female victims over a three month period: July through September. All blondes in their twenties. Taken after partying somewhere. Found at least twenty-four hours later in public locations.” Looking up at the rest of the task force, he added with a combination of disgust and excitement, “And all had pennies left on their foreheads and “slut” carved into their torsos.”

  Brad’s eyes went wide. “Shit! I don’t remember hearing anything about that and it’s not like Pennsylvania’s on the other side of the fucking country. Didn’t it make the news?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s an FBI case file open on it. No viable suspects though. I’ll call the lead agent up there—see if I can get my hands on the file and whatever info he’s got. Or she’s got,” he amended, glancing at the bottom of the page he held. “Says here, Agent Karen Winslow, out of the local office there. Why don’t one of you call Philly PD and try to find out what they have on it.”

  Montoya pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll do it. I’ve got a few contacts up there.”

  “Sounds good,” Lynch said. “The rest of us will continue digging into the victims’ pasts. See if we can find out how he’s choosing his vics.” He paused a moment, thinking over the information they’d just received. “You know, we might also have another problem on our hands. Is he killing three then moving on? Is he done here? Or are we just dicking around until he kills another one?”

  Those were hard questions to answer. On one hand, they hoped there were no more murders in their jurisdiction, but on the other, they wanted this bastard. If killing three victims and moving on was part of the killer’s pattern, he may have already left North Carolina for God-only-knew-where.

  Sheriff Griffin stepped into the room asking for an update. After they filled him in on the Pennsylvania connection, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to the door. “All right. Let’s keep this quiet for now. I want everyone at this morning’s press conference at eleven, unless something urgent comes up. We’ll give the fucking sharks the same info we gave them yesterday, just spin it differently so it sounds new. I asked the medical examiner to attend, but he won’t be releasing much info either. As you know, the press already found out the first two victim’s names, somehow. I spoke to Daphne Jones’s father in Chicago around six last night after the local PD broke the news to the family, so we can release her name also. Everyone meet in my office at ten of eleven and we’ll walk out together.” Without waiting for any responses, the tired looking leader headed back to his office.

  Sean looked at Lynch. “Where do you hold your press conferences?”

  “In the lobby on bad days,” the man answered. “But the weather’s nice today so it’ll probably be on the front steps of the station. Anyway, we have two hours until, then so let’s get to work.”

  The two state detectives left to re-interview family and friends of the victims while Lynch headed back to his desk in the detective bureau to work through the new batch of messages from the hotline. Sean picked up one of several phones on the conference table and dialed the number for Agent Karen Winslow that was listed on the report in front of him.

  He was surprised and pleased when she answered on the second ring. “Special Agent Winslow.”

  “Agent Winslow, this is Agent Sean Malone in Elizabeth City, North Carolina.”

  “What can I do for you, Agent Malone?”

  He grabbed a nearby legal pad and a pen. “Sean, please.”

  “Then feel free to call me Karen. Now that we have the niceties out of the way, what can I help you with?”

  Sean got straight to the point. “Well, it seems we have a serial down here who matches one you had last year in Philly. Pennies on the forehead and the word “slut” carved into the vics’ torsos.”

  He could almost hear the female agent sit up straighter on the other end of the line. “Holy shit! How many has he killed down there?”

  He sighed. “Three in the past three months.”

  “Fuck! Goddamn this bastard.”

  “How did your homicides stay out of the news up there? I never heard about them until I got the hit in N-DEx.”

  “We got lucky,” Winslow admitted. “The first one was a prostitute—no one claimed the body so she was sent to a potter’s grave. Must have been a busy news day, and without details of how she died, the press wasn’t interested. The second one was, and still is, a Jane Doe. We think she may have been transient, passing through the area, but couldn’t match her to any missing persons and got no leads after running a police sketch on the news. We didn’t release the fact she was a homicide vic—just an unattended death. She spent four months at the morgue before being buried next to the first vic. The third one was new to the area. After the body was released, the family had her brought back home to Vermont. Anyway, no one except the local detectives and us knew about the connection between them. And for the first time in my career, I think, there were no leaks from the PD or medical examiner’s office.”

  “You’re right,” Sean agreed. “You got damn lucky. I was hoping you could share what you have in your files.”

  “I can overnight everything to you.” He heard her shuffling papers around. “Give me a phone number where I can reach you and your e-mail so I can send you some preliminary stuff. Then the address for the file.” Sean gave her all the information she’d requested before she added, “I wish I could come down there and assist you. Unfortunately, I have to appear in court this week. Damn, I want this fucking bastard bad.”

  “You and me both. We also have a profiler driving in from Quantico.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Doctor Suki Ralston. Do you know her?”

  “Absolutely! I’ve worked with Suki on several cases. Was hoping to get her last year for this one, but she was unavailable. Listen, I have to run—I just sent you an e-mail containing the initial reports and
autopsy results. I’ll overnight the copies of the rest. Let me know if you have any questions or leads.”

  “No problem. Wait, one more thing. What were the dates on the pennies? Were they all the same?”

  “Yeah. They were all 1993? Yours?”

  “Same here, 1993. Another unknown piece to the puzzle. All right, I’ll let you know if we find anything, and thanks.” As soon as Sean hung up, he received the new e-mail on his laptop. Sending the documents to the printer, he hoped there was something in there to give them a lead or two, before this psycho killed again.

  CHAPTER

  8

  By a quarter to eleven, however, Sean was more frustrated than ever. The information in the Philadelphia files brought him no closer to understanding the killer. The women from Pennsylvania could have been carbon copies of the ones from North Carolina in the looks department—blonde, in their twenties, with similar body types. The pennies, carvings, and public dump scenes also tied them all together. But that’s where the differences ended. The three local vics had all been working women—in legal professions—while only the last one in Philly had been working and had gone missing from a nightclub. The first one was probably picked up by the suspect posing as a john, and investigators had never been able to figure out where victim number two had encountered her killer.

  He now had three new victims to add to the time line, but the suspect count still stood at zero. “Fuck.”

  Sean stood and stretched as Brad, Brian, and Rafe walked into the room. They looked as frustrated as he felt. Since they were due in Sheriff Griffin’s office in a few minutes, the group decided to wait until after the press conference to compare notes.

  Griffin met them in the hallway. “Let’s get this over with. God, I fucking hate these things.”

  The sheriff had donned his formal dress uniform for the meeting with the press. Sean and the others were all wearing two-piece suits, white dress shirts, and subdued ties—very professional. The somber group started down the hall toward the lobby.