Wild Killer Page 7

  "Long story. Jack had a little too much fun last night."

  "In the hospital?"

  We entered the room.

  "Hey, doll," JD said with a smile.

  "I thought I'd swing by on my way to work to see how you were doing, but apparently you're doing okay." Denise said.

  "You look disappointed. Were you hoping I had died?"

  She scowled at him playfully. "No." Denise gave him a hug. "The nurse thought I was a stripper. Can you believe that?"

  "No. Who would think that?” JD asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I know I would never want to see you naked."

  She slapped his arm gently.

  JD caught her up to speed on everything that had happened. Well, almost everything. He left out the bit about the Rodeo Queen.

  "You know what I could use?" JD said. "A cheeseburger. “Let me tell you, the food here leaves a lot to be desired."

  "Do you want me to go grab you something?" I asked.

  "Would you? I'm going to be in here past lunch, and I don't think I can eat anymore of the slop they serve."

  "Denise, do you want anything?" I asked.

  "Oh, no. Thank you. I'm on my way into the station. I just thought I'd stop by for a minute." A thought sparked in her brain. "By the way, I ran the background check that you asked for on Elijah. He's clean. No priors, no history of violence."

  "Good to know," I said.

  I caught Jack up to speed on all the details about Elijah and the fake note.

  "Where do you want the cheeseburger from?" I asked.

  Jack thought about it for moment. "Beef Barn."

  "Coming right up."

  I said goodbye to Denise and strolled down the hallway to the elevator bank. The nurse looked mortified as I passed. "I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't offend that lovely deputy?"

  I smiled. "Don't worry about it. If she can put up with us, she can put up with anything."

  "Amen to that."

  I chuckled and continued to the elevators. My phone rang just as I stepped into the lift. It was Reagan. I swiped the phone and took the call.

  "He called me!" her terrified voice said.

  "Who called you?"

  The elevator doors slid shut and I lost the connection.

  I called her back when I stepped into the lobby.

  "Who do you think?" Reagan said.

  "When?"

  "Just now. I don't know how he got my cell phone number. Only my friends and close coworkers have it."

  "Does Elijah have it?"

  "Yeah, but it's not him."

  "Did you give him the note?" I asked.

  "He knew it was fake right away."

  "That would be an indicator that he might be a suspect," I said.

  "It's not him. I guarantee it. He was in the room when the killer called me."

  "How do you know it was the actual killer? It could have been anybody. A prank call? Who knows?"

  "It was him. I know it. I just got an icky vibe talking to him." Reagan shuddered. "He was using a voice modulator, which only added to the creepy factor."

  "It could be somebody yanking your chain."

  "He threatened Harold. Called him at home. Told him if he didn't re-hire me, he’d kill him."

  "Sounds like you’ve got a fan. Does that mean you got your job back?"

  "Sort of," Reagan said. The killer wants me to interview him. On air. Live."

  "Of course he does. He's a narcissist. Or, someone who's looking to pull one over on the station. Are you going to do it?"

  "Hell yes, I'm going to do it. Do you know what the ratings will be for a show like that?"

  I grimaced. "Maybe you should ease into this thing. Do a little more research. If this isn't the killer, and it's just some kids pulling a prank, you're going to lose credibility."

  "I know he's the killer. He told me where the body of Natalie Watson is."

  18

  I cringed. "Where?"

  "He says the body is tied to an anchor near the reef at Barracuda Key."

  "I'll call Sheriff Daniels. When is your next contact with the killer?"

  "I told him I would need to check with my boss about the interview, and he said he would call me back."

  "Keep me posted. In the meantime, I'm going to verify his story and see if I can trace the call. And I'm not ruling out your buddy, Elijah. He could have had someone else calling you, pretending to be the killer."

  "That seems unlikely.”

  “I'm keeping my mind open to all possibilities."

  "I'm getting another call," Reagan said. "I gotta go."

  She hung up, and I made an immediate call to the sheriff. I told him I'd meet him at the station.

  Then I called Isabella. "I need you to trace a call."

  "What's the number?"

  I gave her Reagan's cell number and the timeframe of the call.

  "I'll call you when I have something." Isabella hung up.

  I rushed out of the lobby, found my bike, and raced to the station.

  Daniels was ready with the scuba team, the forensics team, and the medical examiner. I boarded the sheriff's patrol boat and we headed toward the reef at Barracuda Key.

  The sheriff brought the boat on plane, and we carved across the water. The engines roared, leaving a trail of white water in our wake. Mists of salt water sprayed me in the face as the boat rose and fell with the swells. The wind blew through my hair, whistling my ears.

  "Seems like your boy is changing his MO," the sheriff shouted over the rumbling engines.

  I shrugged. "Maybe we're going on a wild goose chase? Or maybe he's having second thoughts about brazenly dumping bodies? The reefs are far more secluded."

  It took a half hour to get to Barracuda Key. The divers plunged into the water, and bubbles rose to the surface as they descended to the depths.

  The boat rocked back and forth atop the water, and I sat on the gunwale, waiting. The sun was high overhead. I didn't have any sunscreen, but fortunately Brenda did. She handed me a tube of SPF 30, and I slathered the creamy white substance on my face, neck, and arms.

  "Where's your sidekick?" Brenda asked, snidely.

  I told her the situation. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She looked genuinely concerned. "I guess that warrants a phone call, doesn't it?"

  I shrugged.

  JD hooked up with Brenda once, maybe twice. Things were a little awkward between them after that.

  A few moments later, a diver surfaced and shouted, "I found something!"

  Sheriff Daniels idled the boat to the diver’s position.

  I leaned over the gunwale to speak with the diver.

  "Another body. Young girl. Missing her head and her hands. She’s tied to a Danforth anchor."

  I cringed.

  "Looks like your reporter is talking to the real deal," Daniels said.

  The divers took photographs of the underwater scene, then brought the remains to the surface. They loaded the body onto the patrol boat, and Brenda went to work.

  "I won't be able to tell much until I get back to the lab,” she said. “Judging by the condition of the body, the victim hasn’t been in the water long, but there is likely no usable evidence. The killer has been exceptionally thorough, leaving nothing behind so far. I don't expect that to be any different with this case."

  The body was placed into a zippered cadaver bag, and we headed back to the sheriff's office. From there, the body was loaded into the medical examiner's van, and Brenda drove the remains to her office.

  "You're going to fill the paperwork out on this one, aren't you?" I asked, hopeful.

  Sheriff Daniels scowled at me. "No. That's what I pay you for."

  "You don't pay me, remember?" I smiled.

  The sheriff's stone face just glowered at me.

  "I told JD I’d bring him lunch.” I looked at my watch. “I’m already almost 3 hours late."

  Sheriff Daniels growled for a moment, then relented. "Go on. Get out of here. But only because numb-n
uts is in the hospital."

  "Thanks, boss."

  I cranked up my bike and headed over to the Beef Barn to get Jack a cheeseburger. I decided to get one for myself while I was there. They had great burgers. My favorite was their mushroom cheeseburger with Monterey Jack and Cheddar. I ate mine there and took Jack's to go.

  Denise was long gone by the time I made it back to the cardiac care unit, but Scarlett had arrived.

  "Where the hell have you been?" JD asked.

  I shrugged. "I got sidetracked."

  I was hesitant to tell him about the latest victim. I didn't want to put any more stress on him, but he kept prying, so I indulged his curiosity.

  Scarlett looked mortified by the story.

  "Why didn't you tell me? I could have gone with you."

  "I didn't tell you because you need to stay here until you get discharged."

  He shook his head dismissively.

  I put the styrofoam container on the rolling table next to Jack's bed and positioned it so he could eat. I pulled out a soda from the bag, along with packs of ketchup and mustard.

  JD's eyes widened with delight. He took a sip of the soda, and his face twisted at the taste. "There's no alcohol in this."

  I rolled my eyes. "How about you wait until you get out of the hospital?"

  He gave me a sideways glance then tore into his cheeseburger. He could barely fit his mouth around the hulking piece of beef. One burger was really enough for two people. The meat was pink and juicy and dripping with grease and cheese.

  Jack wolfed it down like he hadn't eaten in a month. He licked his fingers when he was done. "Damn, that hit the spot."

  It almost felt sacrilegious bringing a cheeseburger into a cardiac care unit. There were people in here dying from clogged arteries, and Jack was doing his best to load his own up with grease. Despite his diet, his cholesterol levels were fine.

  Jack was a freak of nature.

  I was pretty sure that at the end of the world, there would be cockroaches and Jack. Maybe, he just might outlive the cockroaches?

  The nurse stepped into the room with several papers and a manila folder in her hand. “Well, Mr. Donovan. I've got good news, and I've got bad news."

  19

  "The good news is that I'm getting rid of you," the nurse said. "The bad news is that I met you in the first place."

  Jack frowned at her. "I'm not so bad once you get to know me."

  "You have been a total pain in my ass since the moment you arrived."

  Scarlett laughed. "Try living with him."

  "No thank you," the nurse said.

  She handed Jack the discharge papers and went over the instructions with him, including the advice to follow up with a cardiologist on Monday.

  "Thank you for putting up with me," JD said with a smile, trying to get in her good graces.

  She looked at him flatly. "Oh, don't try to be nice now."

  She spun around and sauntered out of the room.

  "Another day or two, and she'd warm up to me," JD said, confidently.

  Scarlett rolled her eyes.

  We stepped into the hallway and gave JD some privacy while he got dressed. It was hospital policy that all patients had to be discharged in a wheelchair, so we waited until another nurse was available to take him down to the patient pick up point.

  Scarlett got the car from the parking lot and pulled the Porsche around. JD hopped into the passenger seat, and Scarlett drove him home.

  I called Reagan as I strolled through the parking lot toward my sport bike. "Did you hear back from the killer?"

  "Not yet."

  "We found the body of Natalie Watson exactly where he said we would."

  "Shit." Reagan sighed. "I was kind of hoping this was all an elaborate prank."

  "I'm afraid not."

  "Has the victim's family been notified?"

  "Sheriff Daniels is handling that. I'm going to head back to the Wild Tide. Let me know as soon as you hear anything."

  "Any luck tracing the call?" Reagan asked.

  "Negative."

  "Alright. I'll talk to you later."

  I climbed on the bike and cruised back to Diver Down. I stopped in and took a seat at the bar.

  Harlan was in his usual spot.

  "How's JD?" Madison asked.

  "Like nothing ever happened."

  "That's good. Can I get you anything?"

  "Whiskey. Rocks."

  "Tough day?"

  I sighed. "You could say that."

  I was about to tell her about the latest victim when Reagan appeared on the 5 o'clock news.

  "Turn this up," I said.

  Madison grabbed the remote and raised the volume.

  "A young girl's body was discovered near Barracuda Key Island this afternoon. The remains are, as yet, unidentified, but the woman is believed to be the third victim of the Sandcastle Killer. We will have an exclusive interview with a man who claims responsibility tonight at 9 PM."

  "Oh my God, that's terrible," Madison said. "Is it that girl that went missing a few days ago?"

  I nodded. "We don't have a positive ID yet, but the killer told us exactly where to find her. I'm sure it won't take Brenda long to confirm the ID."

  "I thought Reagan got fired?" Harlan said.

  I shrugged. "Well, you know. Showbiz."

  I called Reagan, but it went straight to voicemail.

  She called me back 20 minutes later. “It's all set up. He's going to call my cell phone tonight at 9 PM while we are live on air.”

  "Thanks for giving me a heads up," I said with a twinge of annoyance.

  "I'm telling you right now. The killer called just after we hung up. This thing happened faster than I anticipated. Are you sure there's no way you can trace him?"

  "I’m working on it. But he's very sophisticated and tech savvy."

  "Why don't you come down to the station about 8:30 PM?" Reagan said. "I'll put you on the list."

  "I'll be there."

  20

  I took Buddy for a walk, then grabbed a quick shower, changed clothes, then hopped on my bike and headed to the television station.

  I pulled into the parking lot, strolled into the lobby, and checked with security. I was on the list and was given a visitor badge, then escorted through a maze of corridors to the soundstage.

  The studio was a large, two-story space. The news set was in the corner of the room. The rest of the walls were painted black so they wouldn’t reflect light. Movie lights hung from the grid overhead and illuminated the set. A blue screen behind the anchor desk allowed the editors to composite whatever background they wanted—usually a cityscape of Coconut Key.

  There were three large cameras on rolling tripods. Production assistants and crew personnel scampered about.

  Reagan saw me as I entered the soundstage and rushed to greet me. "Thanks for coming."

  "You bet," I said.

  "How do I look?" Reagan asked.

  "You look great."

  I didn't even need to look her over. She always looked great.

  "I'm nervous," she said.

  "Don't be nervous. You’ve done stuff like this thousands of times before."

  "I've never done anything like this. And a lot of people are going to be watching. The network is pushing the feed out to other markets. Some of the national networks may pick this up."

  "The more people that see it, the better. Maybe someone out there can recognize this guy's speech pattern?"

  "Has Brenda identified the latest victim's body?"

  I nodded. "She matched a tattoo on the victim's skin. The family has been notified."

  "So, I can make an announcement on air?"

  I nodded.

  "I'll show the sketch of the potential suspect. Perhaps someone will recognize him?"

  "Where's Elijah?" I hadn’t ruled him out as a suspect.

  "I'll introduce you,” Reagan said. “Be nice."

  "I'm always nice."

  Reagan looked at me fl
atly, then waved Elijah over.

  He trotted across the studio, and Reagan introduced us. We shook hands, and I sized him up. He did resemble the sketch, but the details weren't exact. His nose was a little thicker. And his hair a little curlier. His face was rounder, and he wasn't anywhere close to 6’2”.

  I played nice. "Thanks for all your hard work in decoding these messages."

  "Anything I can do to help, just let me know." He paused. "Do you think this guy is for real?"

  "He certainly knew where we could find the body of Natalie Watson," I said.

  "This whole thing creeps me out. I hope you guys catch him."

  "Me too."

  "It was nice to meet you. I gotta run. We're about to go on air." Elijah spun around and dashed away.

  "See, he's harmless," Reagan said.

  I gave her a skeptical glance.

  "Well, looks like I’m on," Reagan said.

  She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then headed toward the set. A make-up artist applied last-minute touchups to her flawless face, then she took a seat behind the desk.

  The evening news anchor, Emma Steele took a seat next to her. She was a gorgeous blonde in her early 30s that had several enhancements. Her nose had been done, her chin, and her chest. Lip fillers, collagen injections, and Botox™. Whoever did the work was good. But you could tell she wasn’t all natural, if you knew what to look for.

  Crew personnel scampered around at the last minute, then the production manager yelled, "Quiet on the set!"

  The rumble of the studio quieted until you could hear a pin drop.

  The production manager shouted, "And we’re live in three, two…"

  "Good evening, I am Emma Steele, and this is a Coconut Key breaking news update. A dark shadow has loomed over our peaceful island for several weeks. A sadistic killer has prayed on innocent victims, committing horrific crimes. Tonight, we have an exclusive interview. Our very own investigative reporter, Reagan MacKenzie, will speak live, on air, with the Sandcastle Killer."

  I rolled my eyes. Just yesterday, they had disowned Reagan, now they were introducing her like she was their darling.

  Emma continued. "We must caution our viewing audience, this is a live broadcast, and the content may be disturbing. Viewer discretion is advised."