“Back East, rotting, I hope. Last I heard he was still behind bars. His last name is Brogan, Walter Brogan. My mother never changed our names when she married him.”
“Good. Hopefully he doesn’t get out—ever.”
“That’s my wish. We all hate men like that,” she said. “The problem is, I have to accept that part of me that went through that experience because it spawned my artistic side. For days, weeks, months even, I just painted red and black and ugliness. Then slowly, over time, I began to paint light and sunshine. I realized that I had a decision to make. I could live in that darkness and fear, or I could live in the lightness and joy. And, with Elena, who had already seen more than her fair share of evil at the hands of her own stepfather, we formed a bond to never get into that situation again. And every time we met thereafter, it was like meeting some part of my soul. We were so much alike. Our relationship was much closer than any others I had had.”
“Did you ever do any weird incarnation or something like that?”
She smiled and looked at him with one eyebrow raised in question.
“You know? Like, go to some tarot card reader and have your futures read or anything like that? I’m not sure what I’m trying to ask.”
“We didn’t have to,” she said simply. “When you save a person like that, you become a part of them. I have always carried Elena in my heart.” She instinctively placed a hand on her heart. She stared down at it, patted it, and said, “And Elena feels more at rest right now.”
He nodded, but his throat closed up as he remembered what he’d done during the night. “I’m really happy you have her close,” he said, “because that’s huge.”
“It is,” she said, managing to smile without the tears. “Do you have to go to the station now?”
He nodded. “I’m waiting for a buzz to tell me the security guard is back again.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not necessary,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” he said. “So we won’t take a chance.”
She sighed. “Fine. I just think it’s overdoing it.”
“Let me overdo it then,” he said, reaching out to gently touch her nose. “You’ve become very special to me, very, very quickly. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She smiled. “Ditto. So maybe you should keep safe yourself.”
“Do you think he’ll come after me?”
“I don’t know, but if you’re an impediment to him getting at me,” she said, “then maybe.”
He nodded. “I hope he does. I really hope he does.”
*
Richard got up and left soon after verifying the security guard was out front and Graham was downstairs. With a smile and a wave, he walked out and headed to the police department.
Andy was there waiting for him. “How is she?”
“Traumatized,” he said. “She has no idea what the message means, and, of course, she would never want to keep a piece of Elena’s body like that.”
“They’re analyzing the note. Apparently, the skin was treated with something to keep it from decaying.”
“That would make sense,” he said. “Do we know what that was?”
“Ivory Snow.”
Richard stopped in his tracks, looked at Andy, and said, “What?”
“It’s full of Ivory Snow. The soap. It’s used to preserve rawhide.”
“And did it? Preserve it, I mean.”
“A little bit, but it’s starting to deteriorate.”
“I wonder if he’s struggling to preserve the other pieces that he’s collected,” Richard said.
“Probably. There’s also something else about the latest victim, Liana.”
“What’s that?” The two of them talked as they walked into the station. “Her body was kept frozen for many months.”
“Shit,” he said. “What do you want to bet that she’s our ground zero victim?”
“Exactly. So we’re to follow Liana’s life today.”
“Good enough for me. Why did it take so long for anyone to know she was missing?”
“Because Liana was living with other people, and, when she said that she had a new gig and was moving out, nobody even questioned it. And no one knew she was missing.”
“So, we don’t know where she’s been living.”
“Not at all.”
“Great,” he said. “That’s not helpful.”
“It never is,” he said.
“Any analysis on the handwriting?” Richard asked.
“We don’t have anything to compare it to yet,” he said, “but we’re assuming it is that of the killer.”
“Something was almost feminine about it, wasn’t there?”
“Yes,” Andy said. “That was what I thought immediately.” He checked his email and pulled up a couple reports. “Let’s go to Liana’s last known residence.” They turned and headed back out.
Liana had lived in the artist section of town but in the cheaper digs, where multiple artists crowded together and lived the hippie lifestyle for much less money.
As soon as they knocked, the door opened. A kid fell out, getting on his shoes. “I have to go, man. I don’t know who you’re looking for. They’re all asleep.” And he bolted out the door.
Richard grabbed him by the arm and asked, “Did you know Liana?”
He looked at him in confusion, shook his head, and said, “I replaced Liana.” He pulled his arm free. “I have to go. Otherwise I won’t have a job.” After those words, he was gone.
The two detectives stepped inside and called out, “Hello. Anybody home?”
A young woman with purple hair, groggy and looking like she just woke from a heavy hangover, popped her head around the corner, and said, “Yeah, who’s asking?”
They both pulled out their badges and showed them.
She frowned. “Cops?”
“Detectives,” Andy said. “We’re asking about Liana.”
Her face immediately crumpled up. “We just heard,” she said. “My God, who could have ever hurt her?”
“Did you like her?”
“I loved to sleep with her,” she said. “She was always up for anything I wanted to do.”
“How long did you know her?” Richard asked.
“She lived here for a few months,” she said. “I probably slept with her half the time. Well, maybe not. Maybe a third. The others did too.”
“I thought she was
