Illusions of Death Page 17

  “Have they got people stationed around the perimeter? A ton of kids cut through here on their way to school.”

  “As best they can, but it’s not like the park has set entrances. The chief’s having them bring in some kind of opaque tenting. Anyone walking by will be blocked from seeing the crime scene.”

  “Good.” Logan fell silent as the gazebo came into sight. He saw the material being erected. Risedale barked orders left and right. The chief motioned them over.

  “Look it over first, then talk to Tattoo You over there.” He pointed in Billy Frank’s direction. Logan saw him sitting atop a picnic table, slack-jawed, his head moving back and forth, still in disbelief.

  “Let’s go.”

  Logan led Brad through those gathered and entered the gazebo. They automatically slipped on gloves. Someone handed him a flashlight. He turned it on and stepped forward. The barrier kept out most of the early morning’s natural light.

  It also kept the public from a gruesome sight.

  Logan had seen his share of grizzly in Atlanta.

  But Mario Taylor was in a class by himself.

  “Definitely Roy,” Brad noted. “The knife wounds. The strangling. Has to be piano wire with a line that thin. And the tongue.”

  He nodded. The tongue had been nailed to Mario’s chest. He was also painted a bright blue all over, the next in Roy’s color canvas.

  Logan moved closer, examining the naked body as he went. “Restraints used on the wrists. Probably handcuffs.”

  Brad’s nose almost touched the body. “Look around the ankles.” He pointed in an arc. “I think he used duct tape here. Look beneath the paint. No hairs. Looks irritated. Like a bad wax job.” He stood. “Probably removed it once death occurred and then did his paint job.”

  Logan circled around, studying the corpse from every angle. He couldn’t count the number of knife wounds or cigarette burns. Mario Taylor definitely suffered. More than Roy’s usual victim did.

  “I think he has something in his mouth.” He noticed that the cheeks seemed to be puffed out.

  “I’ll check it out for you,” Dr. Paul Hughes said as he marched toward them, his gray mane of hair perfectly coifed, as usual. The medical examiner paused as he looked the body over. “I thought poor Beth Marie had it bad. Looks like Roy really had it in for this one.”

  Hughes opened Mario’s mouth. “Tongue’s gone but what the—” Hughes leaped back. “What a savage!”

  The ME moved in again and lifted an object from the victim’s mouth. He held it up before slipping it in an evidence bag.

  “Guess in all the paint and muss you boys hadn’t noticed his manhood was missing.”

  Logan shuddered. “Roy’s never gotten that personal before. It surprises me. He’s escalating, both in time between murders and adding to his MO.”

  Brad cocked his head. “Could he have known who his victim was? Carried a grudge against Taylor?” He shook his head. “Jeez, second time in the Springs. Since Atlanta, he’s only killed one victim per small town and moved on.”

  “Rutherford needs to be updated. He’ll want to see the scene while it’s fresh.”

  “Remember what I said earlier about Feebs taking the credit when they break the case?” Brad asked. “Well, it’s fine by me. Let them find this asshole and lock him up in a place the sun don’t shine.”

  “I just notified Rutherford. He’s bringing the crime techs with him from Atlanta,” Chief Risedale said. “I called ‘em the minute I heard it was Roy. Task force wants them on this one since they’re familiar with Roy’s ways.” He motioned the detectives outside.

  “Go talk with Billy Fuckin’ Montana,” Risedale ordered. “Find out something. I’m not ending my time in office this way.”

  They made their way over to Montana. He smoked a cigarette. His hand shook each time he brought it to his mouth for a drag.

  Montana brightened as they approached. “Hey, there, Logan Warner. You ‘member me? High school?”

  “I remember you, Billy Frank. I thought you left the Springs a long time ago.”

  He nodded. “Joined the army. Got trained and all. Didn’t last. Wound up in more fights. People always orderin’ me around. Wasn’t much of a life. Got discharged.” He lowered his voice. “Mama said not to tell what kind, but it’s not the good one.”

  “What have you been doing since the army?” Logan asked.

  Billy Frank shrugged. “Been here. Been there. Lived up in DC awhile. Slept across the street from the White House. Saw the President take his dog for a dump one time. Some Secret Service guy scooped it right up while it wuz still warm.” He laughed.

  Logan watched him take a last pull on the cigarette and then drop it. He reached his toe over and stamped it out.

  “Thanks, Logan. You wuz always nice. Hey, I show you my beauties?” Montana swung his bare arm to the front. The skin was covered in tattoos so heavily that it looked as if Billy Frank wore a dark shirt.

  “Started getting these babies in the army. Then I got some more when I got out. I pretty much have ‘em all over me now. Mama says they make me look like white trash, but I think I’m pretty cool with ‘em.”

  He proceeded to show his other arm, rolled up his pants legs, and was about to take off his shirt when Logan stopped him.

  “So tell me about finding the body, Billy Frank.” He eyed the man’s thin frame. “You out for a jog? I didn’t know you were into exercise.”

  Montana looked a little sheepish. “That’s what I tell Mama. That woman pretty durn near drives me crazy. Anytime I can’t take no more o’ her shit, I say, ‘Hey, Mama, I’m going out for a jog.’”

  He sighed. “I guess you could say I go joggin’ a lot.”

  Logan prodded again. “So what about this morning?”

  Montana scratched his head. “Well, I got up cuz I couldn’t sleep. Probably too many Co-Colas. I was outta smokes, so I walked over to Casey’s gas station. He’s always open by five-thirty. Got my Marlboros and thought I’d go sit and soak up some peace and quiet.”

  “When did you get to the park?”

  “Don’t know. Sat on a bench and smoked a cig. Thought I’d walk over to the Dairy Queen and maybe get some biscuits and gravy. I wuz cuttin’ through when I saw . . . something.” He shivered.

  Logan prodded, “Go on.”

  “I thought it was some kinda bum sleeping there, but he was dark and all. I got closer and saw he was all damn blue. And then I saw his eyes staring and that tongue and the nail and–”

  Billy Frank broke down and started crying. Logan put a hand on his thin shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  “He was all dead and blue and gross, Logan. I wanted to get outta there. But then I thought about CSI. Mama watches all the repeats on Spike. She says Grissom is the smartest man on the planet. I thought I should call the cops. They could call CSI and find out who kilt that poor man.”

  The tears came again. Brad offered his handkerchief and told Billy Frank to keep it. Logan said they might have more questions later, but he wanted Billy Frank to go back to his mother’s.

  “Don’t talk about this to anyone, Billy Frank. We don’t know who this killer is. We don’t want him to think you saw much of anything. Keep your lips zipped. Okay?”

  Montana nodded. “I will, Logan.” He climbed off the picnic table, ready to leave. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Logan watched him walk off. Montana stopped and turned.

  “And Logan? Tell your pretty girlfriend I said hey.”

  The look in his eyes gave Logan a chill.

  Chapter 31

  Logan arrived at Camille Attaway’s. She rented out the occasional room since her husband passed a few years before. He doubted any other boarders stayed there at the moment.

  Her array of b
egonias were in full bloom. He wondered what he should plant at the Kinyon place. Or rather his place. It was hard for him to imagine being a homeowner after years living above the diner.

  He’d missed the sweet smell of mowing his grass. Hosting barbeques with burgers and ice cold beers. Even retrieving the morning paper was a part of the routine he’d missed.

  And his kids. God, he missed the twins. Every day, something reminded him of his precious babies. And what Carson Miller did to them.

  He wondered again if he had a future with Karlyn. Logan could imagine her pregnant, all sweet and round, with that special glow. But he couldn’t rush her. He needed to exercise patience. She was coming off a bad relationship. She wasn’t the type to dive into deep waters so soon after being burned.

  But for now? He had to get Roy. Nowhere was safe until he brought this serial killer down.

  He mounted the porch steps and rang the doorbell. Camille answered in her yellow satin robe, looking a bit pale.

  “Why, Logan Warner. What are you doing here? Come on in. I’m having my coffee. You’re welcome to a cup.”

  She ushered him to the kitchen and reached for the coffeepot.

  “Mrs. Attaway, I need to ask about one of your guests. Mario Taylor.”

  The landlady put a hand over her heart. “Oh, Mario. Sweetest soul in the world. He doesn’t care much for breakfast. I take him his coffee and juice around ten. He’s an artist, you know.”

  “Did you see or hear anything unusual last night?”

  Her brows knit together in thought. “No. I played bridge at Lou Ellen’s. Came home a little after ten and went straight to bed.”

  “Would you give me permission to search Mr. Taylor’s room? Without a warrant?”

  She frowned. “This about that ex-wife of his? I heard about the trouble yesterday over to the antique store. That boy was so upset. He’s a sensitive artist. Born in Spain. Not like that brash New York gal who—whoops.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry, Logan. I hear you been seeing her.”

  “This isn’t about Karlyn, Camille.” He paused. “Mr. Taylor’s been killed. His body was found an hour ago in the park.”

  She floated downward, her mouth gaping open. Logan grabbed her by the elbows before she completed the collapse and steered her to a kitchen chair.

  “Would you like to go next door to Maudie’s?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll wait on the porch.” Her hands fluttered nervously. “Go on up, Logan. You don’t need no warrant.”

  He escorted her outside to the porch swing. She told him what room Mario occupied, and he reentered the house.

  He slipped on a pair of gloves and steeled himself before opening the door.

  A brief glance told him the room had been the original crime scene. He made a quick call before he conducted a search to let Risedale know to send a team here ASAP. He wished Roy would leave behind some kind of clue. The piano wire he used. A hair. His paintbrush. This time he’d actually used spray paint. He figured Roy must’ve been in a hurry since Camille Attaway would only be gone a few hours.

  Logan went through the drawers. Scrolled through the cell phone sitting atop the dresser. Nothing. He thought about the profile Rutherford had constructed.

  Military. Tremendous precision with his actions and the scene. Could Roy have been an MP?

  Or in law enforcement?

  Roy knew what mistakes to avoid to keep a crime scene pristine. His thoughts returned to Seth Berger, knowing he was experienced enough about forensic evidence to avoid leaving clues behind. Berger was a loner. Older in age than Rutherford’s profile. Logan remembered Berger did a stint in the marines straight out of high school before he returned to the Springs and joined the police force.

  The CS techs arrived downstairs. Logan hollered for them to come up. He’d seen all he needed to in the bloody bedroom. He returned to Camille Attaway, who was being comforted by her neighbor Maudie Howe.

  Camille turned a tear-stained face up to Logan. “How could this happen in the Springs?” She shuddered. “I can’t go back in there. I can’t.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “No one’s asking you to. Can I call Casey for you?”

  “He’s on his way,” Maudie piped in. “I been telling this gal forever to sell and move in with me. Widow women should stick together.” She patted Camille’s knee. “You’re moving in with me, hon. Today.”

  Logan escorted the women to Maudie’s house before he returned to the park and touched base with Brad.

  “I’ve canvassed all around the square,” his partner shared. “I’m heading over to do the same on the Attaway street. You get anything there? Oh, the ME said time of death was between eight and midnight.”

  “Do you know where Seth Berger was last night?”

  “No. What are you thinking?”

  He explained his theory. Brad whistled. “I don’t know, but I’ll look into it. I guess you want to keep this on the down low. Especially after his previous interview.”

  Logan nodded. “I’ll talk to Rutherford about it.”

  “He’s inside the tent,” Brad informed him as he left.

  He decided to take a moment to call Karlyn. He explained what they’d found without going into detail.

  “Are you all right?”

  “A little shaky, but I’m okay. I talked to Mother. She calmed me down. Wanted to know if I needed her to come home from New York.”

  “I hope you told her no.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. Why?”

  “Because you’re staying with me tonight. And every night until we find Roy.”

  Roy had come after Mario. Karlyn was connected to her ex. Logan didn’t know why Roy had chosen the artist as a victim. He certainly didn’t want Roy to target Karlyn.

  He told her he had to go. He returned to the office and went over different files from the various victims that the task force had compiled. He needed to find a way to eliminate so many puzzle pieces. He had to find the link between the victims.

  Rutherford arrived with a pizza in hand. “I knew you probably hadn’t eaten. I’m waiting for the reports from the crime scene team now.”

  “Thanks.” Logan took a slice and briefed the FBI profiler on Roy’s latest strike from his point of view. He also ran his Roy was a cop theory by him.

  “Could be.” Rutherford chewed thoughtfully. “Roy’s been anal. And clever. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were a rogue cop. We need a complete picture of Detective Berger.”

  The agent contacted the Washington office and asked for a full background investigation into Seth Berger. “Uproot every rock. Bring out any skeleton from his closet. I want this in less than twenty-four hours.”

  Chapter 32

  Karlyn heard the garage door opening and put down her glass of merlot. Another late night for Logan. He’d worked twenty hours a day since Mario’s murder, laser-focused on finding—and stopping—the Rainbow Killer.

  She walked into the kitchen, Lucky following on her heels. Logan entered, his posture defeated, the dark circles prominent under his eyes. He set a stack of file folders on the countertop. Karlyn hugged him.

  “It’s nice to come home to you,” he said softly. He pulled away. “Sorry I haven’t been around much the last few days.” He bent to pat Lucky, who moved to her bowl once the attention ended.

  She took his hand and led him around the house on a brief tour. “Den furniture all here and in place. Dining room looks lovely, especially with that floral arrangement your mom brought by. Kitchen is stocked with basic pots, pans, and microwaveable dishes. The fridge is full in case you’re ever home to eat.”

  Logan ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been candy bars and bad coffee on the go. Nelda did send over dinner tonight for the guys working the case
. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, English peas. Even apple pie for dessert. I think Rutherford is ready to marry her after tonight’s feast.”

  “I’m glad she’s taking care of you.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist. “Hey, you’re no slouch in that department. You’ve really pulled this place together.”

  “I’ve had the time. With everything that’s been going on, I haven’t been inspired to write.” She paused. “Do you remember about Saturday night?”

  “My un-surprise surprise party?”

  “Yes, the surprise housewarming. It’s on for seven, so you need to be here. And that’s after you spend the day campaigning.”

  Logan shook his head. “No, that’s done with. Either people will vote for me next Saturday, or they won’t. I’ve got too much to do. I can’t run around like some asshole politician.”

  “Seth will be out in full force.”

  “Let him.” Logan plopped onto the new sofa. “He’s taking vacation days this week. I haven’t even seen him. And Rutherford’s people turned up nothing on him that we could use.”

  Karlyn perched on the armrest. “Then maybe he’s not Roy.”

  He hung his head in his hands. “I don’t know anymore. It could be him. I wanted it to be him. But it could be a thousand other guys.” He slammed his fist onto the armrest. “It’s so frustrating.”

  Karlyn stroked his hair. “I know. Why don’t you go grab some sleep? Maybe something will stand out when you get some rest.”

  He walked upstairs as if he were a zombie, Lucky following. Karlyn watched them go and then returned to the kitchen. The stack of manila folders proved tempting. She knew they dealt with the Rainbow Murders. Logan had talked aspects of the case with her, but she hadn’t viewed any of the evidence.