Eddie looked at Tom. ‘Yeah, it looks like it. We’re homicide, right? That’s when we get the call, when people are dead. Did you just think it was bad luck?’
‘Is it the same killer?’ said Harper.
‘If this is his, he’s on some roll. Three kills in a week.’
‘He’s in heat.’ Harper slipped on the seatbelt. The old leather seats crunched under his weight. ‘Any details?’
‘I ain’t got no more details, Church-boy, so don’t do your questions.’
Eddie pulled the car into gear and slipped into the traffic, causing another car to slam on the brakes and honk.
‘Any indication of the method?’
‘Bloody.’
‘How so?’
‘Don’t know. They said we gonna need to get overtime for the cleaners on this one.’
Harper stared ahead. Speeding headlong towards a bloody crime scene hadn’t figured in his plans. He’d wanted to check out his theory on Mary-Jane. He felt the whole case dragging him in.
Harper closed his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He had already started to prepare himself for what was waiting for them in Yorkville. He was clearing his mind, trying to create a space for what was to come, a place inside his head where he kept all the bloody images and case materials. A room he could close and lock at the end of the day. A fresh murder room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Yorkville Crime Scene
November 19, 6.45 a.m.
The car took forty minutes to pass through the snarl-up and continued noisily towards the crime scene with some mid-range R amp;B that Harper couldn’t identify. They arrived at the corner of York Avenue and East 82nd Street. Two uniforms were taping off the entrance to the building and a small crowd of seven or eight civilians were hanging round to watch the action. Two Dodge Chargers had cut off the street with their flickering lights, but there wasn’t an ambulance in sight and the Crime Scene Unit hadn’t yet showed up.
‘It’s just the start of the day,’ said Kasper. ‘Everyone works slow for a couple of hours.’
On the fourth floor, Harper and Kasper entered the hallway and saw the entrance to the apartment. It was one of the better buildings in the area, much more expensive than the usual student could afford. They moved past the officer on the door and signed the log.
‘Watch out,’ he said. ‘It jumps right out at you.’
Tom flicked a smile towards him. ‘Thanks for the warning.’
Together, they turned the corner and looked into the interior of a smart and well-kept apartment.
‘Anyone been in yet?’ Tom called to the officer.
The man appeared at the door. ‘No one yet. We just got here, called it in and taped it off. The cavalry are on their way, Detective.’
Tom Harper and Eddie Kasper felt the icy breeze coming through the open sash window at the end of the hall. Someone had already been feeling queasy. The smell of a corpse could choke you, but the sight was worse. They looked down at the body.
The stark glare of a naked 100-watt bulb illuminated the grainy early-morning darkness of the room. Below it, the bloody remains of a sweet college kid, her future now brutally crossed out with yellow police tape: college, life, marriage, career, kids, grandkids — nada. No entrance.
Both men felt their nerves jangle. The girl’s body was directly in the doorway, her legs close together, a white cloth covering just her groin as if hiding her modesty. She was cut to pieces.
Eddie grimaced and popped a strong mint into his mouth. He offered one to Harper, who declined and pressed his palm to the door frame. ‘This bastard wanted that to be the first thing anyone saw.’
They had to step over the body to get into the apartment. The floor was red and slimy throughout with large bloody footprints all over the carpet and linoleum. This killer didn’t care enough to cover his traces.
The victim’s body was lying cruciform and naked, posed like a dead Christ. Harper looked down across the body. Small cuts all over the arms, down the thighs and calves, and even in the feet. The Medical Examiner called them torture cuts. Too shallow to kill, deep enough to really hurt and always on the veins so there was enough blood to cause fear.
‘He’s taken another trophy,’ said Harper. ‘See?’
Kasper was looking round at the room. ‘I ain’t sure I could say what organs you’re supposed to have.’
‘He’s cut off her breasts,’ said Harper.
It was their man again. It had all the savagery of the three earlier kills and the body was again strangely posed. She was a young blond-haired student who had started the day with her whole life ahead of her and ended it cut to ribbons. Tom saw the two highball glasses on the small side table and leaned in. He smelt the vodka and cranberry. ‘Seems like the kid here had a guest.’
‘A date?’
‘Yeah, maybe. They had a drink and then he put enough holes in her to make a sieve. Some date. He likes to cause pain, doesn’t he? And he likes to shock. You see any flowers anywhere?’
Eddie shook his head and then pointed at the white loincloth and screwed up his face.
‘Maybe. You want to take a look?’ said Harper.
‘No. You?’
Harper pulled on a latex glove and reached across. The white gauze lifted easily from the corpse. ‘What you see?’ said Eddie.
Tom replaced the gauze, shook his head and looked closely at the victim’s hands and arms. ‘So many cuts. Jesus.’
‘It’s the American Devil again,’ said Kasper. He clicked on the CD player. ‘Hound Dog’ by Elvis erupted into the room. The two men looked at each other. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ said Eddie.
‘Music you can torture by — loud enough to hide the screams.’ Tom kept looking at the corpse, counting the small black knife slits. ‘There’s a lot of work gone on here. Upward of fifty individual wounds.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘She’s got a similar look to the others. He likes them fair-haired, wide-eyed and pretty. And if she’s a student, then she’s got a helluva place. Wealthy parents, no doubt.’
‘I got something else, Tom.’
Harper looked up. ‘What?’
Eddie Kasper was standing further into the room. From behind, Tom could see the tension in his shoulders as he kept himself from throwing up. ‘He’s left a picture.’
Harper rose slowly and moved to the window. He felt the horrible anticipation from the slight quiver in Kasper’s usually deep and robust voice.
On the window was a photograph printed out on a sheet of plain white paper. It was a picture of the victim before she was dead. She was sitting on the floor in an old dress, staring up. Both her feet and her hands had already been cut but she was smiling a horrible forced smile and staring up at the camera.
Below the photograph, there was a quotation. Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce Angels.
The two men remained speechless. They found somewhere inside themselves to hide as they stared at the photograph. Her eyes were so full of pain and fear, yet she thought she was going to live if she behaved. This killer was enjoying the feeling of absolute control.
‘What’s your reading?’ said Kasper. ‘He’s some kind of religious nut? Maybe it’s some kind of revenge attack.’
‘No damage — look at the place. Nothing turned over. No struggle.’
Harper had a strong sense of pitiless evil. He looked at Kasper. ‘This is going to get worse before it gets better. He’s a well organized killer with a plan and he has all the features of your all-American psychopath — sex,
