Page 17 of The Murder Between Us
Noah shook his head. “Nothing. No fingerprints. No DNA. No trace. Which, if it was this kid, we’d expect there to be a whole heap of physical evidence.” Jacob, catty-corner to Noah, nodded. He pursed his lips as Noah gestured his way. “The locals asked Jacob to sweat the kid a bit, put pressure on him during questioning. He didn’t budge. Insisted he didn’t kill her. In fact, he was sobbing through most of the interrogation. Could barely get a word in through his tears.”
“Sounded like he was dying,” Jacob said. “He’s a little creep, but I’m not sure he killed her. I usually get confessions from the guilty ones.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Cole shot Jacob a smile.
Noah cleared his throat. His fingers tapped a furious rhythm on his notepad. When Cole turned back to Noah, Noah looked away, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
“Where was this kid Wednesday night?”
“Same story: in his apartment. Alone. We’ve requested cell and ISP data again.” Noah’s shoulders slumped. “I thought he was good for Kimberly’s murder. He had the motive, the means, and the opportunity. He’d been to her house before. She was getting ready to serve a restraining order on him.”
“That always makes those types go ballistic.”
“Exactly. I know he’s not the serial killer we’re looking for. He would have been fifteen when the murders started, for one. But is heakiller? Or is he just a creep, and Kimberly was a victim of our other monster?” Noah jerked his chin at the whiteboards surrounding the room, the tableau of the Coed Killer’s work over the past six years and five days.
“Tell me about Kimberly’s murder.”
Noah launched into a description of the killing and the crime scene, of the forensics and the investigation. Halfway through, he came around to Cole’s side of the table and sat beside him, flipping through the photos in the thick case file one by one and pointing out the details. Cole was uncomfortably aware of Noah, of his heat, his closeness. The way he smelled: the cologne he’d worn in Vegas. It had been sharper then, freshly applied for his night out. Now it was thin as the afternoon wound down.
As Noah spoke, he leaned closer as he pointed out parts of the crime scene. Bruises. Blood splatter. The position of the bodies. It was like being beside him at the bar or in the Parrot Room. The pull toward Noah was there again, impossible to resist, as powerful as it had been that night. Cole wanted to lean into him, bury his face in Noah’s neck and just breathe. Kiss him again. Taste his skin. Run his nose up his neck, nuzzle the skin behind his ear, whisper his name through the short strands of his hair.
“Kimberly’s dad, Frank, was home sick from work that evening. He worked the late shift at the meat processing and packaging plant in Ankeny. They were home alone. Her mom had been out of the picture for a long time. Kimberly was taking care of him. They had a good relationship. Sometime after midnight, the killer cut the phone line to the house and broke into the garage, where he flipped the breakers and cut the power. He made his way into the house through the garage door, which was left unlocked, and strangled Kimberly in her bed. We think he was expecting the house to be empty and didn’t expect her father to come check and see what was going on. The killer turned on the father when he walked into Kimberly’s bedroom, strangling him with Kimberly’s belt. They were both found there the next day.”
Cole spread the crime scene photos out. The father, Frank, was not a small man. Nothing like Jacob, but he wasn’t someone who would be overpowered easily, even while ill. He’d have to have been surprised. Cole pulled the photo of Kimberly, lying on the autopsy table, closer. Dark, ugly bruises circled her throat. “It takes some strength to strangle a person. Kimberly was an athlete, too. She would have put up a fight.”
“If she’d been expecting it. There weren’t any defensive wounds on her.” Noah seemed pained, looking at the photos. He slid a picture of the house over the image of Kimberly’s corpse.
“The MO fits. So does the lack of evidence left behind. He clearly hunts these women. Follows them. Gets to know their routines. It’s possible he expected Frank to be at work that night and was surprised by him.”
Noah nodded. “That’s what we’re thinking.”
Cole flipped open the Olson file and pulled out a photo of Bart, beaten to a pulp on his living room floor. “If he was interrupted during Kimberly Foster’s murder and then again while killing Jessie Olson, that might explain the savagery and overkill he displayed with Bart. The rage at being interrupted during his ritual. This beating is outside his normal MO. This is not what he does. This—” Cole held up Bart’s photo. “Is pure rage.”
A chime broke through the thick air. Jacob sheepishly pulled out his phone and silenced the dinging alarm. “Sorry. Noah, I’ve got to duck out a little early tonight. Brianna’s got a ballet recital, and I promised her and Holly I would be there. I’ve to get the little lady some roses on the way.”
Noah smiled, the same smile Cole had seen Wednesday night. His heart lurched. “Things are getting serious between you two, huh?”
Jacob blushed, his whole face going tomato red. Even his ears went dark. He cleared his throat as he straightened his papers and stood. “Brianna’s a great little kid. She’s cute. And Holly…” He nodded.
He’s going to propose to her soon.Cole watched as Jacob pulled up a photo of a beaming brunette and her toddler daughter, the little girl decked out in a tutu and ballet shoes and a sparkling tiara. Their smiling faces were squished together. It was Jacob’s lock screen for his phone.Very soon. I hope he involves Brianna in the proposal.
Jacob held out his hand to Cole. “I’m sorry I can’t take you out to dinner tonight, man.”
It was practically FBI law: the guy on temporary duty got taken out by the host office his first night. Sometimes every night, if the personalities really meshed. But the first night, the guy on TDY could be guaranteed great local food and a decent night of entertainment. Cole had been to more dive bars and jazz bars and piano bars and wine bars in more cities than he could remember.
“No problem. Have a great time at the recital. Get pink roses if you can find them. And a single red one for Holly.”
Jacob grinned. “Good idea. Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”
He slapped the doorframe on his way out, and then he was gone.
Silence filled the conference room like helium, squeezing out all the oxygen, pressing on Cole until he felt dizzy. He stared at the crime scene photos, rearranging them on the conference table as if sorting them and resorting them would reveal hidden secrets. Noah’s gaze burned into the side of his neck. He refused to look back. Not this time.
Noah’s chair scooted across the carpet, almost hitting the wall. “I’m going to go see what the others are doing,” he mumbled. Then he was gone.
Cole tipped back in his chair and closed his eyes. A whisper of Noah’s cologne hit him, and the memories followed, a cascade of smoky jazz and candlelight and Noah’s first kiss. His naked joy, his beaming smile as he looked up at Cole at three in the morning, flushed with arousal and wet with their release.
I want to know.
