The woman’s corpse had been nailed in place with every cooking utensil imaginable, pinning her back to the wall, arms outstretched. Knives, forks, tongs, skewers, corkscrews—even wooden cooking spoons pierced the body; their straight handles had been thrust into the eye sockets. The air hummed with flies.
“You ever seen anything so horrible?” the officer asked, now staring out the window rather than look at the deceased.
“Not like this, no.”
“We got us a real problem here, don’t we?”
Melissa didn’t answer. Instead, she moved closer to the body.
“Decomp has to be three or four days old,” she said, swatting at flies that darted for her face. She knew the coroner’s examination would determine if anything had happened to Mrs. Patterson prior to being stapled to the wall, but it seemed likely the bizarre crucifixion would prove to be a posthumous act, done as a deranged display by the killer. Then again, she knew anyone capable of taking a life was also capable of unthinkable cruelty.
Suddenly, something caught her eye, a mark half-hidden behind the hair drooping over the dead woman’s face. Melissa pulled a pen from her pocket and pushed the strands aside.
“Oh, shit,” she thought aloud.
Her comment jolted Officer Davis from his thoughts, and he turned his back on the blooming countryside out the window. “What is it, Ma’am?”
She stepped back to allow him a view of several incisions on the woman’s forehead. Maggots squirmed under the skin, but she knew it was the marking itself that caused the cop’s expression to pale in awe.
Melissa now knew that this would be an even stranger case than it already seemed. She’d found two overlapping twin Ks, the horrifying signature of serial kidnapper and mass-murderer Kale Kane. She knew the mark well. The maniac’s freakish signature that had become synonymous throughout the state—maybe even the country by now—with fear, malevolence, lunacy, and death.
“Oh, Jesus,” Davis whispered. “We got a copycat.”
Melissa looked out the kitchen door at the sound of approaching vehicles. The coroner van and the crime scene investigators had arrived.
“We don’t know it’s a copycat,” she warned.
“How many will this one kill?” he whispered, still staring at the corpse.
Melissa ignored the officer’s comment and edged past him, exiting the kitchen to go meet the forensics team leader. Outside, the rising sun’s heat did little to dissuade the shiver that ran through her.
CHAPTER 7
Dad, do we have to do this?” Mallory asked.
She looked at the gathering of strangers in the parking lot of Loretto’s Church of Saints Peter and Paul. “We don’t know anyone here, and people keep looking at us. I feel like an oddball or something. Besides, this is a Catholic church, and we’re not even Catholics.”
BJ hopped out of the Expedition and began plucking at his rear.
“It doesn’t matter,” Paul said, helping BJ adjust his clothes. “We’re here as guests. And don’t worry about not knowing anyone. That’s one of the reasons we came, remember? To meet people.”
“These pants go up my butt,” BJ complained.
Mallory rolled her eyes. Fresh out of the shower and in his junior suit and tie, the kid looked like a six-year-old mobster.
Paul checked his watch. “It’s almost eight, we better get inside.”
They climbed the double staircase that led to the entrance. The red brick church stood in a cul-de-sac on the incline of a modest hill, and its tall steeple towered over the surrounding houses. Inside, Mr. Fish greeted them near the door, initiating a round of handshakes and hellos. He led them inside, weaving through a mix of people gathered within the main chamber. They stopped at one of the right-hand pews, where a young redhead woman sat alone.
“Rebecca, mind if we join you?” Harry asked.
The woman turned, curious, and her face bloomed into an expression of surprise. Her green eyes sparkled even in the diffused light coming through the stained glass windows on the wall.
“Harry, how are you?” she asked. “And, Paul, this is a surprise. It’s good to see you again.”
Mallory’s eyes zeroed in on her father and noted how his smile widened when the two shook hands.
“Nice to see you again, too, Rebecca,” her dad replied. “You look… You look spectacular.”
Mallory cleared her throat, exaggerating the volume to regain his attention.
Her dad looked. “Oh, kids, this is Rebecca Fleming, the realtor Harry set me up with when I bought the house. She lives here in Loretto.”
“Mallory and Benjamin, right?” Rebecca asked. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Paul mentioned you’d be moving here. How is everything so far? Do you like your new home?”
“The pool is my favorite,” BJ chimed in. Not yet versed in the complex morays of social behavior, he had unzipped his fly and stuffed one hand down his pant leg to scratch his thigh.
Her dad flinched. “BJ!”
Harry gave a hearty chuckle. “Rebecca has a son about your age, Mallory,” he interjected while her dad adjusted BJ’s clothes. “Where is Tim, anyway?”
Though answering Mr. Fish, Rebecca kept her eyes on Mallory’s dad. “He’s visiting his father this weekend.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said, leaning toward Paul. “Rebecca is also divorced. A.K.A. available. You two have something in common on that front.”
Rebecca reddened. “He already knows that, Harry, but thank you.” Turning to Paul, she added, “In case you haven’t noticed, Harry’s taken it upon himself to be my personal matchmaker.”
Her dad nodded while the woman talked, clearly trying to keep his expression serious despite Mr. Fish’s elbow nudges.
“Tim should be back later this afternoon,” Rebecca said, once again speaking to Mallory. “I’m sure he’d love to show you around town and introduce you to some of the other kids. Should I tell him to stop by?”
“Sure,” Mallory answered, knowing her dad would argue the matter if she said no.
Mr. Fish clapped a hand on Paul’s back and ushered him into the pew beside Rebecca. “You two go ahead and have a seat together. I want to sit next to Mallory so I can fill her in on the high school she’ll be attending this fall.” He leaned in close and winked. “The Dean is a good friend of mine, and I can give you all the dirt there is to know about any teacher in the school.”
CHAPTER 8
Tim Fleming stared wide-eyed, his breath held at mid-draw. On screen the two girls embraced, coming together at the mouth for an open, tongue-touching kiss.
“This could be interesting,” he whispered.
The girls’ names were Mystie Valley and Lolita Libido, and they made up just two of the many stars in the adult movie
Tim swallowed, finding his mouth had gone dry during the opening scene. The film began in a rustic cabin with the two starlets dressed to resemble a scantily clad Indian squaw and an equally half-naked cowgirl with short blonde hair. After their initial bout of kissing and rubbing, the Indian girl (who was clearly Latino) climbed atop an old wooden table and allowed her costar to remove the top half of her costume. She wore a tan, buffalo hide skirt with fur tails and multicolored beads tied to the waistline, and those items fell over the dark patch of hair between her legs when she spread them for the camera.
