Page 17

CHAPTER 16

S tar groaned as she came to, her head throbbing like she’d gone toe-to-toe with a wrecking ball … and lost. Her arms were pinned behind her. She struggled a bit, but her wrists were held together tightly with what felt like zip ties. Her ankles, too, and the hard, cold floor beneath her told her she wasn’t having a nightmare.

Fabulous. Just fabulous .

She blinked, adjusting to the room's dim lighting. Was it a basement? A warehouse? It smelled like mildew and something vaguely … metal-ish. The glow of a single flickering bulb cast long, creepy shadows on the metal walls.

Then she remembered. The van. The driver. The cop.

The cop killed the driver. Dear God, there weren’t even any words exchanged. She’d screamed and tried to get away, but the cop had pushed a needle into her.

“Oh, this is so bad,” she muttered, testing the zip ties. They didn’t give, which wasn’t shocking, but she’d hoped maybe, just maybe, she could wiggle them off.

A door creaked, and heavy footsteps approached. Her kidnapper stepped into the room, his face partially lit by the flickering lightbulb. He still wore his damn uniform, the sight of which sent a shiver through her.

“How are you awake already?” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I drugged you.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t use the good stuff,” Star shot back. “I have a metabolism like a hummingbird on caffeine. It’s honestly kind of a problem, but I can’t help it. My mom said it’s genetic, but I think it’s more to do with my anxiety levels being perpetually through the roof, you know?” She wiggled her fingers. “And oh my God, do you know how bad zip ties are for circulation? My hands are going numb, and if I get gangrene and they have to cut off my fingers, I will personally haunt you. I mean, I’m talking next-level poltergeist—full-on blood dripping from the walls, doors slamming at night, creepy whispers in your ear while you sleep, type haunting.”

The cop exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know, right? Who kidnaps someone on a weekend? I had plans.”

“You found him,” he cut in, his voice tightening. “That makes you the next one.”

Star’s mouth went dry. “Next one? Like, for what? A special club? VIP treatment? Oh! Are you secretly a billionaire, and you just don’t know how to ask women on dates without resorting to kidnapping?”

His eye twitched. “I should’ve gagged you.”

She gasped dramatically. “Sir, that is a crime. You don’t just gag people! And anyway, if you think I talk a lot now, wait until you do gag me and all my thoughts have to come out in panicked humming. Do you know how many songs I have stored in my brain? Hundreds. It’ll be a nightmare.”

The cop let out a slow, controlled breath, rubbing his temples. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Same, honestly. I was on a great date tonight, and now, I have to reschedule.”

His nostrils flared as he stalked toward her, yanked her up, and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I have a shift. I can’t babysit your crazy ass. It’s going to be a pleasure to cut you to pieces.”

Star let out a shriek of indignation. “Babysit?! That is offensive, sir! I am a fully functioning … wait, what did you just say ?” Reality hit her. “Oh my God, you’re the one who killed the guy in the garbage can.”

“You’re fucking brilliant, aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, the man dropped her to the ground, shoved something into her mouth and used duct tape to secure it over her mouth. Star tried to talk, but whatever was in her mouth was gross. She gagged and coughed. He stopped to grab something before throwing her back over his shoulder. They exited the dark, dank place she’d woken up in. He ignored her trying to beg him to let her go and carried her out of the dim basement into a dank alleyway. Was it an alley? No, maybe a lot behind a warehouse? Dear God, the scent of garbage and wet asphalt filled her nose. He moved fast, clearly needing to stash her somewhere before he went on duty.

Half-hidden behind a dumpster, a rickety old storage shed sat at the end of the alley or maybe parking area behind the building. He forced the rusty door open and tossed her inside like a discarded bag of groceries. She groaned as she hit the ground. Her shoulder took all her weight, and a sharp pain shot through her body. She tried to move, but his knee fell on her hip, and he pushed a needle into her again. And then another.

The door shut, and Star heard a padlock click into place.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he muttered before his footsteps retreated, and the world went dark.

* * *

Ethan waited until the Guardian who was told to leave his SUV in the parking lot was gone.

“Clear,” Max said. Ethan jogged out of his concealment and jumped into the SUV. He moved it a block over and grabbed the computer left in the vehicle. Powering it up, he hacked into the internet of the office building where he was parked.

“I’ve cleared the three breaches. You have my complete attention.”

“First question: Why a cop uniform? Imposter?”

“That uniform didn’t look fake. I couldn’t see his face because of the black hoodie he wore, but I got a damn good picture of his chest and body when he put that bullet in the driver’s head.” Ethan could hear Max’s fingers flying over the keyboard. “I have a side-by-side comparison up.” The pictures appeared on Ethan’s computer. “I can’t read the badge number, but the measurement of the badge and the weight on the fabric look the same as on a random picture of an NYPD patrolman.”

“Okay, so, we go with the cop is real. That means this cop knows Star somehow. We need to check the video of her finding the body.”

“On it. Sending it to you.”

“There are twelve cops on scene.” Blue boxes framed the uniformed police officers as they moved through the footage.

“Eliminating based on height and sex.” Ethan worked the film, and the boxes turned red on all but three of the uniformed cops. He leaned forward, watching the screen as video footage played on a loop. The timestamps flicked by as they analyzed footage from the day Star had reported the body in the trash can.

“There.” Ethan pointed the cursor at the man and froze the film. “That’s him.”

The grainy footage showed a uniformed cop arriving on the scene, speaking with Star, putting her in the back of the car, and then driving her to the station. A seemingly routine interaction. Except now, with the knowledge that she was missing, it wasn’t routine at all.

Max clicked a few keys and pulled up an internal database. “This is the officer assigned to the call, Anthony Lutz. Been with the department eight years, mostly unremarkable. No complaints, no commendations. Just there.”

“Eight years. So, my relocation thought was correct. That fits with the Pittsburg murder timeline. I thought maybe this guy landed in jail. What could have caused him to start again?”

“A triggering event? Death near him, rejection by a woman, being belittled. You name it. Sometimes, it’s nothing but a look or perceived slight. You know these profiles as well as I do.”

“I do,” Ethan agreed. “This machine is too damn slow. Run his background. Something’s not right.”

Minutes later, Max whistled low. “Holy shit.”

Ethan tensed. “What?”

Max shared the screen. “It’s a pattern. Whenever a body’s been found, the person who found the body goes missing within the week.”

Ethan’s blood ran cold. “You’re saying?—”

“This guy doesn’t just dump bodies. He picks his next victim based on who finds his last.”

Ethan shook his head. “That’s too fucking obvious, Max. The cops would’ve found that connection.”

“No, you’re not listening. The person who found the body and the person who called it in aren’t always the same people. A garbage man found the first body. The owner of the house it was found outside of reported it. They tried to find the garbage man, but he was terrified and allegedly walked away. No one could find him, and his documentation at the sanitation department was faked.”

“Okay, I’ve read the case notes on that.” Ethan blinked, realizing the connection. “The next victim was?—"

Max broke in, “Identified as an undocumented person here past his visa limitation. No criminal record. I’m comparing his visa picture to the ring camera images given to the police.”

“Run the theory on the PA murders, too.”

“Working it,” Max said.

“Jesus, Max, if this holds up, this bastard has Star.”

“Confirmed identity. Let me run the PA murders.”

Ethan closed his eyes. “And the victim Star found? The case report says a homeless man found the undocumented victim. He has a record for petty theft.”

“I’m sending you the mug shots,” Max said as the picture appeared on the computer screen.

“Has the coroner ID’d him yet?” Ethan asked. His fingers flew over the computer keys. “NYPD duty rosters have him working a day shift.”

“It takes a long time to do what he did to those bodies. He didn’t have the time.”

“He could have killed her already,” Ethan bit out. The fucking bastard.

“No, you know as well as I do the victim is alive when he cuts them apart. All the medical examiner reports state that.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Ethan sighed. “Sorry.”

“I understand. Hold on, I need to get into the medical examiner’s computer to get a picture of the last victim’s head.”

“Dear God.” Ethan scrubbed his face. He started working a background on the bastard. “What kind of fucking monster does this?” he asked himself as he pushed the laptop to perform at the maximum of its capability.

“Ethan.” Max’s voice stopped him cold.

A picture appeared on the screen alongside the mug shot of the homeless man. They were the same person.

Ethan’s computer made a noise, and he glanced down at it. “I have the camera for morning roll call at the precinct. The bastard is there.”

“So, we know she’s safe as long as he’s at work. We’ll track him back to her and then take that fucker down.”

He hated it, but Max was right. He wanted to go strangle the bastard until he talked, but with people like him, that might not work. They needed to find Star, then take down the fucker.

“We need to keep our eyes on him.”

“Yep, on it,” Max said as his fingers pounded the keyboard as he spoke. Ethan’s phone rang, and he glanced down at it. He picked it up. “Are you in town?” he asked without preamble.

“Yes.” Lycos’s growl was unmistakable.

“Sending you an address. Get here now.”

“On my way.”