Slasherazzi (14 page)

I slumped down at my desk the next day, gave one look at the leaning tower of paperwork, and let out a long sigh. If there was one thing I hated more than anything else, it was filling out forms and reports. Well, that and journalists. One in particular sprung to mind, having been a thorn in my side for the past few years. I shook my head and then took a long sip of my coffee. Fuck him. Vince had more than his fair share of chances, and I should have listened to my brain a long time ago.

I set the cup down to the right of my monitor and picked the top sheet from the stack. A pink Mini had run a red light and collided with a motorcyclist. I groaned and began typing up the report. I’d been glad to leave this kind of work behind, and now it seemed like I would be making up for lost time.

Four hours—and several cups of coffee—later, I locked my computer and decided to head out for lunch. As I pushed through the main doors and onto the sidewalk, a voice called from behind.

I turned around to see Vince in the reception area. He made his way over and stopped a short distance in front of me, his head down. His normally tidy hair stuck out at the ends, and short, dark stubble decorated the line of his jaw where it was normally clean shaven.

He took a deep breath, then lifted his head to look me in the eye. “You really mean that? After everything we’ve been through, you’re just gonna throw in the towel?”

I nodded. “It’s not working between us, Vince. God knows I wanted to make it work. I really did. But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” I paused to rein in the steadily increasing volume of my voice. “You had your chance, and you blew it. Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

I turned back to the street when his hand caught my wrist. “What do I have to do to make you believe me? I swear I didn’t do anything.”

I glanced over at my shoulder, and he glared at me defiantly with his bloodshot eyes, beneath which sat dark half-circles. He reached up with one hand to tug at the necklace he wore.

“And what was all this about?” he asked. “Why send me something like this if you’re just gonna be an ass?”
The gift in question was a necklace made of what appeared to be wood or bone, with alternating black and white fragments. I couldn’t recall ever buying him such a thing, and definitely not in the last few days.
“Is there a problem here?”
We both looked to my left where Agent Marshall stood.
I shook my head and pulled away from Vince. “Nothing worth mentioning. He was just leaving.”
“Like hell I was,” Vince snapped. “I’m not going until we’ve talked this through.”
“It’s over. There’s nothing to talk about.” I folded my arms and tapped my foot. Damn idiot never knew when to give up. There had been a time when I’d admired that quality in him, but now it was grating on my nerves.
He clenched his fists and made a low growl. “Then at least explain the package I got this morning. Was this some kind of pity present? ‘Sorry, I’m breaking up with you, but here’s a gift to make it all better.’ Is that it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied. “I never sent you anything.”
“Yeah, then who sent it?”
I shrugged. “How the hell would I know? Maybe you have a secret admirer. You’d be better off with them anyway.”
Marshall coughed, interrupting whatever Vince was about to say next. “Excuse me, but may I see the necklace?” She held out her hand.
Vince nodded and reached behind his neck to undo the clasp. He laid the necklace over Marshall’s palm. “Keep it. I don’t want anything from this jerk.”
“I told you it wasn’t from me.” I grated my teeth. How many fucking times did I have to tell him before the information sunk in? “Why would I lie about this, Vince?”
“Vince? As in Vincent Fairfield?” Marshall asked, raising her brow.
“Yes. And who are you, anyway?”
“Special Agent Marshall.” She lifted the necklace up with one hand, bringing it closer to her face. “Would I be right in saying you’re the journalist who has been writing the headlines about our killer so far?”
Vince smirked. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“The same journalist who received photos of the fourth victim on his doorstep?” she asked.
The grin on Vince’s face faded, and he nodded. His tanned skin grew a shade lighter.
“Both of you come with me.”
She marched across the reception area and to the elevator. Vince and I looked at each other briefly, before following after her. We stepped inside the elevator, exchanging confused looks as the doors closed and the sounds of whirring filled the cab. Agent Marshall stepped out into the homicide department and handed the necklace to the nearest cop.
“Bag this for me please. I want it sent down to the lab and analyzed immediately.”
She walked on, barely giving the detective time to respond. We came to the office where the feds had set up their equipment, and Marshall took the seat at the head of the table before motioning for us to sit down.
“What’s this about?” Vince asked.
“I think, perhaps, you are both a piece of our puzzle,” she replied.
I raised my brows. “In what way?”
“It’s just a theory, but hear me out.” She paused for a moment to lean forward in her seat. “Judging from the scene downstairs, it’s safe to assume the two of you were involved.”
“Were being the operative word,” I added.
Vince snorted.
“And you both have been a part of this case from the start,” she continued. “It seems to me that our UnSub may have taken a personal interest in one, or both of you.”
“You think it was the Slasherazzi who delivered that necklace?” Vince asked.
Marshall nodded. “He seeks attention and so he sends pictures of his kills to the media. You were the one who named him. You gave him the notoriety and fame he craved, and so, perhaps, he feels a connection to you.”
“Great, that’s just what I need right now.” Vince groaned, his gaze darting to me. “As if one asshole in my life wasn’t enough.”
I folded my arms, resisting the urge to start swinging my fists, and focused instead on the case. “Would explain why he chose Vince to send the pictures to if he feels indebted to him. And the necklace, do you think it could be related to our cabin murder? The guy was missing a whole leg bone.”
“It would seem a big coincidence to think otherwise,” Marshall replied.
Vince touched one hand to his collarbone. “Oh, come on. You’re kidding, right? I thought maybe you were implying he bought it for me as a gift. Now you’re telling me that was a part of some guy he killed?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now do you believe me?”
“I’m glad you find this funny. You weren’t the one wearing a piece of a dead guy up until five minutes ago.” Vince punched my shoulder before turning back to the agent. “So you said the killer might have an interest in us both. Where does this bastard come into it?”
“Our latest victim was last seen leaving a club with— ”
“Yeah, that’s not really important,” I said quickly, cutting her off.
Vince furrowed his brows. “The woman? Was she a friend of yours?”
“I didn’t really know her that well.”
He watched me for a moment, before slouching into his seat. “God, I can’t believe all this. What did I ever do to deserve…Hey, hang on a moment!” Vince jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair backward. He slammed his palms down on the table. “You fucking slept with her?”
“Why the hell would you think that?” I asked.
“You left a club with a woman you barely knew. What else am I supposed to think?” He pushed himself away from the table and walked to the far end of the room, running his hands through his hair. “You are unbelievable. Less than twenty-four hours after we break up, and you’re picking up some whore at a bar.”
“So what? We broke up. What I do, or who I do, is none of your concern.” I turned my head away and huffed.
“I mean that little to you then?” Vince asked. When I didn’t answer, there was a click as the door opened, then slammed shut a few seconds later. Silence settled over the room, and Agent Marshall simply sat and watched with a blank face, concealing whatever she thought of our little scene.
“I wasn’t going to tell him what had happened,” I said. She tilted her head slightly to one side and cocked an eyebrow. “I guess I should thank you for bringing it out into the open, though. Maybe now he’ll give up and leave me alone.”
I stood, moved to the door and reached for the handle.
“I do have another theory if you’d like to hear it,” Marshall said.
“I’m off the case, remember?”
“I know,” she replied. “However, as it concerns your ex-partner, I would like your opinion.”
I froze for a moment, torn between listening to her ideas and leaving the building to finally get around to having my lunch break. In the end, my curiosity won out and I sat back down.
Marshall took off her glasses and set them down on the desk before clasping her hands. “When we were interviewing Michaels, you said it was possible the killer would involve himself in the investigation. What better way in than to present himself as a possible target?”
I scratched at my chin. “I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m saying that maybe the killer is closer than we think. What if he’s not just taking the pictures, but writing the stories, too?”
My eyes widened, and my mind went into shutdown. Vince…our killer? I shook my head. There was no way it was true. Sure, he could be a selfish jerk who only cared about his job at times, but other than that, he was a good guy.
“Think about it,” Marshall said. “Serial killers make big headlines. Getting the scoop on a case like this would do wonders for his career.” She paused to stand and pace about the room. “And the medical examiner’s report came back on the latest victim. The knife wounds show a lot of jagged edges. He was angry, which would explain why he went outside of his normal pattern to pick a female. If Vince had caught sight of you with the victim—”
“No,” I snapped. “Vince wouldn’t do something like this.”
Marshall sat back and held up her hands. “It’s just a theory. We have to consider all the possible alternatives.”
I sighed and pushed my seat away from the desk before standing. “Yeah, I know, but I’m telling you it’s not possible.” I marched across the room and opened the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be going for my lunch now.”
“Of course,” Marshall replied. “Thank you for your time, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell Vince any of what we discussed. I’d like to get him on his own and talk about a few things.”
“Do whatever you want,” I said and closed the door behind me. As I walked down the corridor, I almost burst into laughter. The whole idea that Vince might be the killer was ridiculous. But it certainly would explain how the killer had been able to drop off the photos without being caught if he was working for the press. Shit! We hadn’t even thought to keep a close eye on the staff as they arrived, and Vince was always one of the first on site.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway, frozen like a statue as the doubt crept in and took over my mind. Vince was certainly dedicated to his job. Seemed like not long ago, he was just a run-of-the-mill journalist, complaining about how he would kill for a decent story. It was just a figure of speech, though, wasn’t it?
I shook off those thoughts and continued to march out of the building. How could I even be entertaining the theory of Vince being the killer? Sure, there was some motive, but he didn’t fit the profile at all. He never talked much about his family, but if there had been any abuse going on, he’d neglected to mention it. And despite being a total selfish ass, he was well adjusted, not some starkraving loony with a fetish for chopping up people’s genitals. I paused to shudder and cringe at some of the imagery bombarding my mind. If anyone knew what Vince liked to do to a man’s cock, it was me, and that certainly didn’t involve mutilation.
With that mental crisis out of the way, I was left with only one decision to make: Subway or Taco Bell?

After using the scientific method of flipping a coin to choose my lunch, I headed back to the office with a beef chalupa in one hand and a Pepsi in the other. By the time I finished my lunch, the stack of paperwork sitting on my desk seemed to have inexplicably grown, and I let out a long sigh as I sat back down to work.

The hours seemed to crawl by, and I found myself listening in to the conversations of other people as they passed my desk. Naturally, the Slasherazzi murders were still at the top of everyone’s agenda, and by association, my being kicked off the case came up as a discussion point on several occasions. It was at four p.m. that the first rumor of any progress started to circulate. They had a possible ID for the victim of the cabin fire. David Ashcroft. All that was left was to pull his dental records and see if there was a match. Still no solid link to the Slasherazzi case, though.

I packed up at five, and went for a much-needed workout, followed by wallowing in my self-pity. My love life was doomed, and work was now the bane of my existence. They say bad things happen in threes, and so I was half-expecting to go to sleep that night and wake up being threatened at knifepoint by a masked man who wanted to skewer my balls.

Too late, Slasherazzi. Captain Blake and Vince already took one each.
The next morning, I ambled into work with a cup of coffee in my right hand. I’d barely set my drink down when Tanya came racing up to me.
“Alex, there you are,” she said, almost panting for breath. “I was downstairs in the lobby, and you’ll never believe what I saw. The feds just brought Vince in for questioning. A lab report came in early this morning, and it confirmed the necklace was made of human bone.”
“Oh,” I said and dropped into my chair.
Tanya blinked twice, then folded her arms. “That’s all you have to say? Oh? Your ex has just been brought in for questioning about a murder. Doesn’t that worry you?”
I shrugged and lifted the coffee cup to my lips for a sip. Tanya continued to stare at me. “What do you want me to say? Oh, I’m so stupid for not seeing that Vince was a cold-blooded killer after all that time we spent dating.”
Tanya groaned.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I just know Vince isn’t our serial killer. Besides, we’re over. What he gets himself into is none of my business, though I do kinda relish the thought of him spending a bit of time behind bars.”
“Wait, hold up,” Tanya said. “Serial killer? They brought him in about the cabin fire. Unless, you know something I don’t? Spill it, Alex.”
“It’s just that Agent Marshall has this theory about the Slasherazzi. That it might be Vince.”
Tanya snickered.
“Don’t worry, I already told her what I thought of that idea. She had this other idea that our killer might be fixating on Vince for making him famous, or something. I mean, it’s not the first time he’s left Vince a present on his doorstep, is it?”
Tanya’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or horrified. If what you’re saying is right, then we’re only dealing with one killer. But what if next time his gift isn’t just a few pieces of bone? Maybe a whole hand, or head.”
Just the kind of thought I needed first thing in the morning. A bottomless pit opened up in my stomach, leaving me a little queasy. Tanya had a point. Sending a bone necklace was only the start. In time, he’d be more likely to leave more substantial presents. And if he really wanted to show his gratitude to Vince, my head would probably be top of the wish list. Vengeance on ex-lovers was always a classic.