Page 37 of Junior Has a Secret

“He clearly was not killed here,” Leonard says.“And the wounds are dry.Was the killer trying to wash away his own blood?”

The same thought I had for about thirty seconds.“And he just happened to pick this room, where there’s access to a hose?”I ask but answer myself.“No.This is all a staged murder scene.”

“And the blood?”he asks.

“You think that’s pig’s blood?”Jack asks.

Leonard scowls at him.“We think this is some sort of Umbrella Man copycat?”The question comes out as an insult meant to mock Jack, as if he’s literally a moron.

I’d correct Leonard, but Jack is on his game, thinking out loud and oblivious to the nastiness.He’s inhis zone, as he should be, and it works for him.“If it were a true copycat,” he replies, “we’d be wading in blood right now.But stealing ideas from other killers commonly happens.For instance,Mark Twitchell, a Canadian filmmaker who emulated the fictional character Dexter Morgan from the TV showDexter,but his execution was flawed and he only managed to claim one victim.And then there’s—”

“No,” I say, my tone absolute.“We get the point, Jack, but,” my lips curve with a remark I just can’t resist, and I’m already highly amused with myself before I even attempt a perfect delivery, “you know what they say about FBI agents who assume—”

“They make asses of themselves,” Jack supplies.

Leonard is already scowling and I love it.

“No,” I reply, my eyes meeting Leonard’s.“They end up dead.Now both of you give me a few minutes in the room alone.”

“You were going to tell me how the hands were cut off, agent,” Leonard snidely points out, as if trying to tell me he’s not afraid of me or Kane, when we both know it’s a lie.That fear swims like a piranha in his eyes, ready to devour him.

“Blunt force sharp blade,” Jack says, having no idea what is passing between me and Leonard, as he adds, “perhaps a sword but I’ll need to test it in the lab.”

“What about an axe?”Leonard asks, trying to act oh so cool, when he doesn’t have a cool bone in his body.

“No,” Jack replies.“The cuts would be thicker and not as clean, which is why they make better horror movie weapons than they do real life execution tools.”

Leonard just stares at him a beat.“You sound like a crazy person.”

“All three of us are standing in front of a dead man who just happens to have his hands cut off,” I say.“I’m sure that makes us all perfectly sane.Clear the room.”

“I object,” he pushes.

“Overruled and don’t piss me off.I have a dark passenger of my own I’ve come to love.You don’t.I see the butterflies in your eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’ll tell you when I have time to deal with your meltdown.”I firm my voice.“Go check on the progress beyond this room.”I lift a gloved hand at Jack.“Give your team a head’s up that I’m almost done.”

“I do not approve of you, Agent Mendez,” Leonard announces.

“Then I must be doing something right.”

“Special AgentLove-Mendez,” Jack corrects, stepping to my side.

Jack’s a creepy stalker, but my protector, and I’ll forgive the name correction based on his intent.I don’t know for sure, but I might be coming to like him but I’ve had this thought before and then he did something ridiculous.

Leonard grunts and stalks away a bit heavily for the floor that’s basically a crime scene.

“He’s an arrogant prick,” Jack says.“And I’ve never known an arrogant prick that wasn’t dirty.”

“You think he’s dirty?”

“Something’s off with him.I’ll go get the team ready.”He heads out of the room, his steps delicate, respectful of the crime scene and I decide Jack says a lot of stuff that sounds stupid, but is usually a pathway to something brilliant.This time, he skipped the stupid and went straight to brilliant, but I can’t worry about Leonard now.

I glance up at the deceased.He’s tall.Blond.His hair is short, straight, and thick.He was almost too thin, but nothing a protein shake and a gym couldn’t fix.“Who did this to you?And why take your hands?”My brows dip.Did he steal from someone, for instance the mob, who either my father or Pocher stole from as well and this is a warning?Or even, and perhaps more likely, considering he should still occupy the mansion, the current governor?

I’ve spent my entire time in this room, studying my John Doe though and there’s no real time to find my zone.With the team headed this way, I step around the body and survey my surroundings.The furniture is as castle and throne as is the exterior of the house.The furniture is elegant and wildly expensive, the couch tan Italian leather, while an accent, oversized matching chair sits closest to the body.I walk to it and squat to find what looks like splatter marks, the same liquid that is on the floor.I rotate, the carpet squishing beneath my feet, my gaze studying the carpet.I shift left and then right and determine that despite us walking in and out of the room, there are heavier indentations in the carpet leading to the window.And it’s a big window nearly floor-to-ceiling and two feet wide, from what I can tell from the navy curtain that is presently closed.