The Trophy Exchange (12 page)

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Authors: Diane Fanning

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: The Trophy Exchange
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Thirteen

 

Stretched out on the sofa with a cut curtain cord in his hand, he heard the determined click of her high heels on the sidewalk. He leaped to his feet with a smile of anticipation and hurried behind the front door.

The sound of her footsteps changed as she stepped up on the first wooden step and walked up to the porch. Just in time, he noticed he

d left the lock open on the door. He reached over and clicked it shut as the screen door squealed.

He heard the metal against metal sound as her key missed the slot then slid all the way in the lock. He heard the quiet twist of the key and the dull clunk of the latch as it released.

The door opened and he held his breath. She stepped across the threshold and he threw the cord around her neck. He pulled it taut and dragged her kicking body out of the doorway. Holding both ends of the cord with his right hand, he slipped his left around the edge of the door and slid the ring of keys out of the lock. They clattered as he dropped them to the wooden floor. He used both hands on the ligature and pulled it even tighter as he kicked the door shut with his foot.


Ack. Ack. Ack,

his victim choked out as she squirmed.


Don

t fight it, girl, it will only hurt more,

he whispered into her ear.

She clawed backwards at his hands, digging with her nails but she could not pierce his glove
s
. Two pink nail tips broke off in the attempt and plinked as they hit the floor. She reached up for his eyes but her fingers hit the plastic protection of his goggles.


See, girl, no use fighting. Just let it go now,

he said in a voice as smooth as cream.

She grabbed at his mouth. He bit down hard and tasted blood. He ran his tongue over his lips as her fingers retreated. Her arms fell limp to her sides.


That a girl. Let it go,

he murmured.

Her body slumped. Still he hung onto the cord.

Five minutes,

he whispered and looked at the clock.

Just three minutes more,

he said.

Her body showed no signs of life but he pulled the cord tighter compressing her neck. Her tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth.

Two minutes,

he said.

He dragged her by the neck to the center of the room.

Ninety seconds,

he whispered. His hands cramped. He took both ends of the cord in one hand and flexed the other.

One minute,

he said. He shifted the ligature to the other hand and repeated the stretching.


Thirty seconds. Just half a minute more, girl,

he said. He looked down and saw the wetness spread in the crotch of her pants. He smiled.


Time!

he announced as he let go of the cord and watched her body tumble in a heap to the floor. A sigh of satisfaction blew past his lips.

All done,

he said as he whipped off his goggles and closed his eyes to savor the moment.

He retrieved the cord and stuffed it into the front pocket of his pants. He stretched out her body. Legs together in a straight line. Arms stretched out at angles from her side. He looked around the room and saw nothing to suit his needs.

He moved into the kitchen.

Ahhh
,
perfect,

he said as he spotted a black heavy iron skillet on a stove top. The cooking utensil resurrected pleasant memories of his grandmother and made him smile for a brief moment until he remembered his anger

his grandmother was dead and he could not forgive her for leaving him.

He hefted the skillet in one hand and returned to the front room. He knelt by the woman

s body and raised the skillet over his head with both hands. He slammed it down on her face again and again. When her features were flattened sufficiently to provide a secure surface for the skillet to rest, he stopped. He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a silver hoop earring. His clumsy fingers encased in thick gloves fumbled the piece of jewelry and it fell to the floor.

He pulled off the work gloves and reached into his back pant

s pocket for a pair of latex gloves. He slipped them on his hands. He plucked a gold and lapis earring off the dead woman

s earlobe and dropped it into his shirt pocket. He picked up the silver hoop and stabbed three times at the hole in her ear before hitting the right spot and slipping the wire through.

He stood and stared down at his handiwork. A feeling of warmth glowed in his chest and radiated through his body making his fingers, toes and scalp tingle.


Goodbye,

he said as he walked to the front door.

He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and drew the string tight. His eyes peered out of the small opening as he left the woman

s home. He pulled the door shut making sure the lock was engaged. Then he walked away wondering who would wear the pretty, blue earring in his shirt pocket.

 

Fourteen

 

Lucinda hit her desk at
seven thirty
the
next
morning after seeing the suspicious ring on the Nancy Grace show. For the next hour and a half, she called up to the Public Information Office every ten minutes before she finally got a person on the other end.

She got the phone number she needed from them and the information she needed from one of the producers of the show.

If something from our show plays a useful role in your investigation, Lieutenant,

the producer said,

we

d like to have you on as a guest.


The Public Information Officer handles the media,

Lucinda said.


Actually, Lieutenant, we

d much rather have the person who did the work than another talking head spokesperson on the air.


Not in this case
,
you wouldn

t. Not me. Call the PIO,

Lucinda said as she ended the call.

She dialed the police department in Riverton, North Carolina, where the homicide case with the intriguing ring
had
occurred. She arranged a meeting with those investigators
for the following day
.

She called the Spencer household and Evan answered the phone.
“Dr.
Spencer, this is Lieutenant Pierce. Glad I caught you at home.


Yes,

was all he said.


We have a lead on your wife

s ring. It might have shown up at another homicide scene.


That seems unlikely.

What an odd answer, Lucinda thought.

Do you have a snapshot of your wife

s ring?


No, of course not,

he
snapped,
bristl
ing
for reasons Lucinda could not understand.


You didn

t take pictures for insurance purposes?


Kate may have but I
’ve
never seen them.


You do take photos of your family, don

t you?


Yes

pictures of the family. Not the jewelry.


Start looking through those for any shot that might show the ring on your wife

s finger. I

ll be over right away.


I

m on my way out, Lieutenant.


Doctor, I need to have those pictures before I head out of town to check out this other case.


I

m sorry, Lieutenant. But as soon as the sitter gets here for Ruby, I am going to the office to review charts. I have a full schedule of appointments next week and I need to be prepared.


Surely that can wait for another hour, Doctor.

There was no response on the other end of the line. Lucinda waited
,
her impatience and exasperation building with each passing second. She broke the silence.

Listen, Doctor. You start looking at the photos now. I

ll be there as soon as I can. I expect you to be there when I arrive.


Do I need an attorney, Lieutenant?


That

s your call, Doctor. I imagine you can get one before I can get to your house if that

s what you want.

She hung up the phone and wondered why such a simple request for family photos would trigger a defensive response like that. Why would he feel he needed a lawyer? What am I missing?

Her ringing phone broke off her reverie.

Pierce,

she said.


I

ve got your forensic report. Come and get it,

the voice said.


Audrey?

Lucinda asked. The receiver slammed down in her ear. Into the empty line she said,

Audrey Ringo, you sure need to work on those social skills.

No sooner
had
the words left her mouth than she realized the criticism could just as easily be leveled at her.
This whole place is full of misfits
.

She pushed away from her desk and headed down to the lab to meet with the
c
hief of the forensic evidence department. She found Audrey in her austere office in the basement, the three walls of painted concrete block blank except for a round wall clock and a hook that now held Audrey

s full-length lab coat. The fourth wall of glass overlooked Audrey

s kingdom
:
a long room filled with microscopes, centrifuges, mass spectrometers and other stainless steel and glass monuments to science.

Audrey stood behind her desk next to the hook where her long white lab coat hung. In a bright yellow suit with her red hair pulled tight away from her face and her rail thin body held at rigid attention, Audrey bore a striking resemblance to a number two pencil. Her arched eyebrows with their over-the-top pluck job and her parsimonious mouth signaled her disapproval of Lucinda and anyone else who entered her inner sanctum without a single-minded devotion to science.


Good morning, Audrey. What did you find?

Lucinda
asked.


You know I prefer to be addressed as Dr Ringo.


Yes, Audrey, I do.

Audrey

s nostrils flared but her eyes did not blink.

I see you

re still wearing that morbid black patch over your eye.


It suits me.


Yes, I suppose it does. I can understand why someone like you would not

could not

be bothered with matching patches to your wardrobe but why haven

t you gotten a prosthetic eye yet?


It would take a long series of surgeries to repair the socket, Audrey.


So?


Can I see the forensic report, please?


Could I get an answer please? Why have you done nothing about your face?

Lucinda folded her arms across her chest and stared.


Plastic surgeons can do wonders with face reconstruction, Lieutenant. So why do you insist on inflicting your grotesque visage on the rest of us?


The cost is too high, Audrey. Let it be. May I have the report?


The cost? Good Lord, Lieutenant, you were injured in the line of duty. The department will pick up every penny of the expense. It will cost you nothing.


It will cost me time, Audrey. Time I can

t afford. I have a job to do and I need to do it. You understand the importance of one

s work, don

t you, Dr Ringo?


Of my work, yes. Yours? Cops are a dime a dozen and you know it. The world won

t stand still if you take some time off.


Thanks for that, Audrey. I

ll send someone down to pick up the report when you

re in a better mood,

Lucinda said and turned to walk away.
Damn that woman. If I prefer working
H
omicide to the role of a perpetual patient, it was none of her damned business.


Here, Lieutenant,

Audrey said with a sigh.

Here is your report.

Lucinda took another step toward the door. She wanted to walk away but
then again she was impatient to read the contents of the report as soon as possible.
She spun around and grabbed it out of Audrey

s hand.


We

ve got two DNA profiles, Lieutenant.


Two?


One known. One unknown

sort of.


What do you mean

sort of
’?”


One profile is definitely that of the victim.


The other?

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