Killer Scents

started?”

Kevin seems to enjoy the fear he instills in me by going over every detail of his job as bouncer and how he bashes skulls. I can see the rage in his eyes, which is almost lethal. I fear for the day he turns his anger on me.

The only drawback to drugging him was not being able to see his reaction when he put two and two together and figured out the reason he was there. Oh well, I’ll just have to be happy he hears every word I say. He put his lips to the big man’s ear and whispered her name.  “There, now you know.”

By the time they stepped out of the last hot house, the sun had begun its descent behind the buildings. A frustratingly long day turned up nothing. The men were all sweaty and tired and undoubtedly just as disappointed as Becca was.

“Thank you for all of your hard work. Let’s call it a night.” Randy rubbed his neck.

Becca walked up the road with Rick and several officers. “I would have bet money we’d find something to lead us to him here.”

The officer blew out a long breath which lifted his blond bangs. “He’s bound to slip up.”

“I wonder how many more lives he’ll take before that happens?”

Her question didn’t warrant a response. She just said aloud what was on the mind of ever man involved today. Thankfully they left before Randy had the opportunity to face off with her again. She definitely wasn’t in the mood for that.

They drove toward the city in silence.

“Before you take the boys back to the shop drop me off at home first.” She suppressed a yawn.

“No way. I don’t think the chief will like that idea too much.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a cop. I think I can take care of myself until you come back. It’ll give me a chance to grab a quick shower.”

“Okay, I don’t like it, but I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes tops.”

Becca climbed down from the truck and waved to the crew in the back. “Thanks. See you in a few.”

She felt for her gun before trudging up the driveway. I feel like we took ten giant steps backwards. Before going inside she unlocked the garage door and flicked on the light to find her baby shining in all her chrome glory. She nodded decidedly and turned off the light and went into the house.

Each room came to life in a flood of lights as she worked her way through her place. “Shit!” Becca pulled out her gun and cocked it.

On her pillow laid another perfect purple rose, but no note. He didn’t need one. Becca knew exactly who left it on her bed. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. The bastard was in my house. She hunkered down with her gun raised, both hands holding it steady as she retraced her steps back to the kitchen. With her back up against the wall, she took a couple of deep, steadying breaths and closed her eyes.

Footsteps on the back landing set her heart racing. She slid along the wall and took aim. The click of the door prompted her to jump out. “I’ve got a gun. Put your hands up where I can see them.”

“Whoa there, Becca, it’s me, Rick.”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me.” She blinked back the threat of tears.

“What’s with the gun?”

“Our killer left me another gift. The son-of-a-bitch was in my house.”

Rick’s stature grew rigid. “We better call it in.”

Becca opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. She’d already set herself up for a good scolding. “I’m so sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

He shrugged. “I can take it.  You’re okay, that’s all that really matters.” He winked and keyed in the number.

Why do I always resist protocol? First the bar and now this? She gritted her teeth. Boy am I in for a blast.

Chapter Fourteen

“What were you thinking, Becca?” Randy paced her kitchen floor.

She hated being the reason for his anger, but she never asked for him to come. He just happened to be with Chief Thomson when he’d gotten the call.

A couple of girls from the lab were dusting for prints, despite everyone knowing they’d come up empty. They found no sign of forced entry, and that bothered her the most. Does he have a key? Maybe he’s a jack of all trades and knows how to pick a lock without leaving a scratch.

Regardless, Randy ranting and raving like this wasn’t helping matters. In fact, just the opposite—he was pissing her off.

“Do you know how bad this could’ve ended if that sick fuck was still here, waiting for you to walk into your bedroom?”

The genuine concern in his eyes confused her. You’re the epitome of contradictions.

“Scolding me like a two year old isn’t going to find this guy any faster.” Becca stood toe to toe with him. “So, if you’re almost done, can we please figure out what to do next?”

Randy took her hand in his. “Becca....”

Her cell phone buzzed, and she took a step back, removing her hand from his. “Hello?”

“Becca, he struck again.”

The chief’s words chilled the heated exchange between her and Randy. She dropped back to sit on the chair. “The Florist?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sending an officer to pick you and Randy up. Have Rick stay with the lab techs until they’re done.”

Becca looked at her phone in disbelief as she set it on the table. No words needed to be exchanged.

Randy punched the countertop. “Dammit!”

In a matter of minutes, Jerry arrived. Randy sat up front and she was left in the back again. This time she welcomed the reprieve the darkness afforded her. Seeing another one of the victims wasn’t on the top of bucket list. Every crime scene opened the wound from Susan’s death. Thank God I didn’t see her. The pictures were bad enough.

She looked up to flashing lights and the SUV now parked in the midst of all the commotion. Every house on the street was lit up like a Christmas tree. Not long ago they’d all been tucked safely in their beds while their neighbour’s life ended in the cruelest of ways.

Chief Thomson stood on the front lawn, his massive arms folded across his broad chest. “Well, this time he added a couple twists.”

They walked across the lawn toward the house. “For the first time, he left behind the box and it appears he drugged the guy.”

“Any idea what kind of drug?” asked Jerry. He stepped up and held the front door open for them.

Chief shrugged. “I’m guessing some kind of nerve-blocking substance.”

The guy on the couch was enormous, even bigger than Big Ben. The tattoos on his muscular arms told of visits to the state pen. The added twist of using a blocker made perfect sense. No way would The Florist be able to subdue him on his own.

The coroner joined them, clipboard in hand. “He’s been dead less than an hour. It looks like he was injected with a neuromuscular-blocking drug, but I can’t be certain until I run some tests. I’ll bet my paycheck Mr. Baird spent his final hour watching and feeling his mouth being sewn shut.” He half-turned to the corpse. “If you look closely you’ll see this time there is twice the number of stitches woven tightly together. Our Florist took his time with this one.”

“I think the sicko is starting to enjoy his work far too much.” Chief rubbed his stubbly jaw.