There is no reply or any sign of Drake. Her order of compliance falls on deaf ears. “Mr. Drake, come out now. If we have to come back there to get you, it’s going to get ugly.”
Still no response from Drake.
We move in behind them with our guns at the ready. Aiming toward the hallway, forming a firing line with the team. “Alright, Drake! You were warned.” She gestures toward the hall, and the two officers’ advance down the hall, clearing both rooms and the kitchen in the back. “All clear!” a woman shouts.
“Entry team to command interior of the house is secure.”
“Exterior of the house secure,” Bravo says.
Shit, but is it another dead end?
I holster my weapon. “Okay, Jason. Let’s see what we can find.”
The floors are immaculately clean, and the walls are full of Christian décor. Like, too much décor as if someone went overboard with the crosses and crucifixes.
The element leader removes her helmet, revealing short spiky blonde hair. The corner of her mouth curves up. “Damn, was someone trying to ward off Dracula, Lobos?”
I glance over at her grinning. “You never know with the creeps these days, Angela,” I say, gripping her hand and we both pull away at the same time.
“You’re on the MK Killer case? Can’t say I’m surprised. They seem to give you all the messed up cases.”
I slip on a pair of latex gloves. “Well, what can I say, the brass just loves me I guess.”
“Bullshit, but whatever. Hey, we miss you down at the Raging Leprechaun.”
“I’ve been so busy with this case; I have just been taking my drinks home.”
“I feel you. Well, if you get some free time, ring me up. The guys miss ya.”
“See you soon.” She steps out of the house.
In the bedroom, there is a bed with just an ordinary white sheet. Hmm, and I was expecting the bed to be decked out with crosses.
There is some scripture painted on the wall in black ink; the same shit was written at the crime scene of Robert Stetson. I open his closet and see something metallic on the floor. I pick it up and examine it. It’s a piece of barbwire that’s been converted into a garrote wire. There’s dried blood crusted on the barbs likely Stetson’s. Strangulation is a crime of passion. However, this weapon takes it to a whole new level of intensity... sadism. For a person to choose such a method, they must’ve got some sick thrill out of causing the person intense pain.
Jason hovers over me. “What did you find?”
“One of the murder weapons.” I stand and stretch it out on the bed. “One barbed garrote stained with blood.”
“Jesus!” he says.
A grin sneaks across my lips. “I don’t think Jesus is a suspect here.”
He points his cell and snaps a picture of it and logs it in his notebook. “I know, Devi. It’s just a saying people say when—Jason, calm down. I’m just giving you shit,” I say, smiling.
LT stops in the doorway. “Lobos, forensics is taking over. Let them give the place a deep scan, and they will get back to you with their findings.”
“Did they ever find the victim’s vehicle?” Jason asks.
He nods. “It was found abandoned in a retention pond in a residential area. We searched it and didn’t find anything of use, not even hair fibers except for the victim’s.”
“Okay. Come on, Jason. Let’s head back to the station and wait on forensics to do their thing.”
A patrolman races down the hall toward us. “Are you Jason Sadir?”
He gives the uniform a sidelong glance. “Yeah?” He replies in a cautious tone.
“A 911 call came from your residence a few minutes ago.”
Panic takes over his face, and he sprints down the hall with me chasing behind him, digging the car keys from my pocket. We tear down the street racing to Jason’s house.
My gut is telling me Jason won’t like what we find when we get there. However, this is one instance I hope I’m wrong for a change.
Chapter 6
Racing across the city, our siren wails as we weave through the traffic blowing through red lights. “Come on, drive faster, damn it!” His voice frantic.
“Relax. Don’t jump to any conclusions just yet.”
“We’re investigating a murder, and there is a 911 call from my house. How the fuck am I not supposed to jump to conclusions?”
“Jason, all I am trying to say is relax. It may be nothing.”
I hope to god I’m right.
Clearwater PD already has the front door barricaded with yellow crime scene tape.
Bad sign.
I barely get time to put the car in park, when Jason leaps from the passenger side. “Jason, hang on! Shit.” I climb out of the car, and as I approach the porch, the officers are wearing despair on their faces as they watch Jason plow through the crime scene tape. They try to stop him, but he manages to breakthrough.
Jesus.
Jason lets out a scream of a man whose heart is being carved out with a dull blade. I rush through the front door under the crime scene tape to find three blood-soaked bodies lying in the middle of the living room. Three separate blood trails lead from the bedrooms to three dead bodies lying in the center of the living room. The air in the house reeks with the nauseating coppery smell of blood. His wife’s neck was sliced from ear to ear along with two deep stab wounds to her stomach. The two little girls were shot once between the eyes, leaving two dime-sized holes. The daughters
