Blood Walk (A Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Book 8) Read online

  “Marty,” he said to the man there. “This is Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud. Marty Hammond.” The young man stood and shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ve been hearing about you.”

  Tommy brought a couple extra chairs over so they could all sit around Marty’s desk. Lacey noticed the desk was cluttered with a combination of printed material and drawings. He pushed the bulk of it into a loose pile and shoved his keyboard out of the way.

  “How do you want to do this?” he asked Sam. He pulled out a sketch pad and flipped to a blank page.

  Sam took his chair and set it on the opposite side of the desk from Marty, so he was facing the artist but couldn’t easily see the sketch pad.

  “I guess I’ll just tell you what I sense. You can draw it and then when I look at it, I should be able to tell if it fits or not.”

  Marty nodded. “Okay, works for me. Anytime you’re ready.”

  Lacey set her phone to record and laid it on the desk so the mic would pick up both Sam’s and Marty’s voices.

  Sam sat back in his chair, let his gaze drift upward and drew in a few deep breaths.

  “Not tall,” he started. “Maybe five-four or five-six at the most. Slight. He, though. Round face, dark hair.” Sam stopped and squinted at the ceiling, as if he might see something there. “I get a sense that his hair is… kind of shaggy. Not particularly long, but way longer than a buzz cut. The front hangs down over his forehead, and he does that on purpose. It reinforces that childlike image.”

  He sat very still for a moment, just breathing. “I think his eyes are dark, maybe brown. You know how, for most people, the iris of the eye is covered up a little on the top and bottom by the eyelids? His isn’t. I feel like his eye sockets are very round, wide, so the brown iris floats above the lower lid. He uses his eyes to give that impression of innocence.”

  Lacey glanced at the sketch pad in front of Marty. She couldn’t see the whole thing, not without leaning forward and possibly disrupting Sam’s reverie, but she could see some of it. Seeing Sam’s impressions brought to life chilled her.

  Tommy tipped his head her way and their eyes met. He felt it, too.

  “He, uh, sits with a drink and just watches people, not openly, but just from under that hair hanging down over his eyes. If anyone meets his eyes, he looks away immediately, like he’s very shy or very lacking in self-confidence. But if it’s a woman, he steals glances at her. Acts like he’s embarrassed to be caught looking, but he keeps going back to her. Most don’t cave to the shy act, but a few do. There are some women who find it a challenge to school or seduce a virgin, and that’s what he waits for.”

  Sam rubbed one open hand along the outside of his thigh, as if he was nervous. Lacey had never seen him do that.

  “He lets them lead,” he said. His voice had dropped to a low tone, and his eyes narrowed. “They have to drag a response out of him, but he gives in very reluctantly. Slowly. He’ll even…” Sam paused, his nostrils flaring. “He’ll even backtrack, say no, and that just makes them more determined. He lets them win him over. And then…”

  Sam sat up abruptly, startling the other three. “My God,” he said. “He lives nearby. ‘My place is just around the corner.’ He lives nearby.”

  The silence rang like a bell. The only sound was the scratch of Marty’s pencil on the rough paper.

  Tommy sat forward in his chair. “How far?” he asked softly.

  Sam blinked, swallowed, sank back into the vision. “Maybe two blocks. No more than three or four.” The hand began to move again. “He walks to the bars, and he tells them he doesn’t have a car. They offer to drive. ‘It’s not far. Just around the corner’…”

  Tommy waited. When it was obvious Sam wasn’t going to continue, he spoke again, almost in a whisper. “Is that where it happens?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes. He… opens the front door and asks them to wait there while he turns on a light. The house is dark. But he doesn’t turn a light on. He gets the knife, comes back. They never see it coming.”

  He swallowed.

  “He… he starts out… teaching them a lesson. That they shouldn’t prey on young men. On boys. But he gets angrier as he goes, the pain and rage boiling over. He plunges the knife in, over and over. Hacking. Hacking…”

  The word echoed away. Lacey could see that Sam was visibly shaken. She’d never seen him so completely enveloped by the psychic impression of a murder. It was as if he were actually there, seeing it firsthand. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but knew it was not the time.

  He exhaled heavily and scrubbed his face with both hands. When he looked up again, he blinked as if peering into the light after prolonged darkness.

  “Wow,” Tommy said in a low voice. “This is one sick puppy.”

  “Yes, he is,” Sam agreed.

  Marty nodded mutely. He’d put his pencil down a moment before, and now frowned down at his drawing. “Obviously I can’t put… all that in the drawing,” he said, “but take a look.”

  The other three crowded around the desk.

  Lacey recoiled from the eyes. They were dead—shark’s eyes. Staring back at her with no emotion whatsoever. It made her skin crawl.

  Sam leaned forward. “Less chin,” he said, pointing. “And the hair is parted on the left—our left—his right. Angling across the forehead.”

  Marty did a few quick adjustments and sat back.

  “That’s him,” Sam said. He stood and turned away. “That’s him.”

  “All right,” Tommy breathed. “Marty, let’s get this to the captain, then—”

  “I’m right here.” Captain Shaw moved toward them, dodging around the empty desks with quiet determination. “What have you got?”

  Marty held up the sketch. Shaw studied it carefully, then turned to Sam. “This is our guy?”

  “Yes.” Sam nodded resolutely. “That’s him.”

  Shaw glanced at the picture again, then turned to Lacey. “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s as good as you’re going to get without an actual photograph.”

  The man’s coffee-colored eyes glittered at her. “All right. We’ll go with it.” He nodded to Marty. “Get that to Win and tell him to release it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Marty ripped the page out of his sketchbook and headed for the door.

  The captain turned to Sam. “We’ve got surveillance tapes from a couple of the places. I’d like you to take a look at them.”

  Sam drew in a deep breath. “Sure,” he said. “Now?”

  “No. Let me get it set up. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Sure.” He glanced at Lacey.

  “Four p.m.?” she asked Shaw.

  “That works.”

  “We’ll be here.”

  Tommy walked them out to the entry. “Thanks for doing this.” He made direct eye contact with each of them as he shook hands. “To you, for offering the suggestion,” he said to Lacey, “and to you for giving us what you picked up.” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gave him a pat. “I won’t pretend I understand this or have any clue what that’s like for you, but I can tell it’s no picnic. If it helps us get this guy…”

  “It’ll be worth it,” Sam finished.

  Tommy nodded. “Exactly. Okay, you two. Have a nice evening and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Have a nice evening, Lacey repeated to herself as they pushed out the door. As if Sam could just shrug this off…

  “Lacey! Lacey Fitzpatrick! Are you and Sam working on the dumpster case?”

  “Sam! Over here! What are you getting from the victims?”

  Lacey and Sam stopped in shock at the gaggle of reporters on the station house steps. Microphones were shoved at them and cameras, both SLRs and cell phones, were held high in the air to snap pictures over the heads of the mob.

  “Lacey! It’s Marina Vasquez of ABC. What have you and Sam uncovered?”

  Lacey swiveled toward the voice but couldn’t pick out the fac
e in the crowd. She remembered Marina as one of the reporters that hounded her after her ex-boyfriend’s conviction on drug charges, and was instantly angry.

  “No comment,” she said forcefully. She grabbed Sam’s hand and plunged into the crowd, pushing her way through to the parking lot. It was like running a gauntlet.

  “Sam! What are you picking up? Do you know who the murderer is?”

  “Lacey, is this being filmed by the Unexplained Channel?”

  “What are the victims saying?”

  “Do they have any messages for their families?”

  Lacey broke out of the pack and ran for the car, Sam right behind her. They piled into the car and she started it up and put it in drive before too many people could surround them. Making sure only that no one was directly in front of them, she revved the car and peeled out, hardly slowing down as she merged onto the street and sped away.

  “Jesus,” Sam swore. He twisted in his seat and stared at the crowd growing smaller behind them. “Where the hell did they come from? I thought we were doing this on the sly.”

  “I don’t know,” Lacey fumed, “but I’m going to call Win as soon as we get home. We’re not going through this every time we come to the station. No way.”

  “I’ll say,” he agreed. “Jesus, they’re like piranha.”

  “Yeah, they are.” She gritted her teeth at the memory of the media circus that surrounded Derrick’s trial and conviction.

  Sam watched her closely. “Is this what it was like for you, before?”

  She laughed grimly. “Oh, way worse. Every time I stepped out of the station house or showed up at a crime scene, they were on me. Especially that one, Marina Vasquez. She hangs on and doesn’t let go.”

  As soon as they got home, Lacey dialed Win’s number.

  “Who leaked about us?” she asked after telling him what they’d encountered.

  Win blew out an aggravated breath. “I’m not sure anyone did. It’s not uncommon for some media people to stake out the station during a high profile case like this, just keeping an eye out for anything developing. You two are not unknowns anymore, and easy to recognize. I’m guessing someone saw you come in and alerted the masses.”

  “Crap,” Lacey said. “I didn’t think about that. Is there any way to avoid them tomorrow?”

  “You’re coming in at four tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Come to the secure lot in the back. I’ll have someone there to let you in. You might not be totally undetected, but we can try.”

  “Okay.” Lacey sighed. “So much for staying under the radar.”

  “It was bound to happen,” he said. “You two are just too well known now. But we’ll deal with it. Just stick to ‘no comment’.”

  “Will do,” she said. “Thanks, Win.”

  She hung up the phone and arched an eyebrow at Sam. “How’d you like to drive us over tomorrow in your truck?”

  “Incognito?” he asked. “Yeah. We can do that.”

  ~~~

  EIGHT

  Lacey directed Sam to a little-used driveway that took them through the back of the parking lot. As they neared the secure gate, she noticed a small crowd of press congregating on the steps out front. A uniformed officer let them through the gate with a keycard, and Sam parked close to the back door. Lacey led the way to Captain Shaw’s office.

  “Lacey, Sam,” Shirley greeted them in the outer office. “I see you made it in one piece.”

  “For now, yes,” Lacey said. “I’m not sure how many times that’ll work, though.”

  “Well, have a seat. I’ll let the captain know you’re here.”

  In minutes, Tommy joined them. “Heard about your blown cover,” he said. “I guess it was just a matter of time. It’s all over the news now.”

  “No, really?” Lacey groaned. “Crap.”

  “I know. We’ll just do what we can to keep your visits here as few as possible.”

  Just then, Captain Shaw’s door opened and the big man came out frowning. “So now we’ve got rock stars again?” he growled.

  “Sorry, sir,” Lacey started. “We—”

  “Not your fault. It’s just too bad there’s not a volcano erupting or a half a billion dollar lottery going on. Anything to take over the news cycle.” He shook his head. “Oh, well. Come on. Let’s go take a look at those tapes.”

  He led the way to a small conference room with a large flat screen on the wall. Tommy cued up the laptop connected to the projector hanging from the ceiling while the others took seats.

  “What’s the first one we’ve got?” Shaw asked.

  Tommy clicked on a file and it opened up to a video player. “This one is, uh, the Stiletto Nightclub, near Wilshire. We’ve got footage from the business next door showing Stephanie Haise leaving.” He clicked again and started the video, then took a seat.

  The film was black and white, fairly low resolution, but passable. The camera was angled so that the sidewalk was in the center of the screen, the corner of a building to the right, and the street on the left. An occasional car passed by.

  The front of the club was not in sight, but a corner of a door swung out from behind the edge of the building, halted for a moment, then swung back. A woman stepped out on the sidewalk and walked toward the camera. She checked her watch, then turned sideways down a driveway that led behind the building.

  A minute later, the door appeared again, but this time a man stepped out, headed the opposite direction. His pace was hurried, and in just seconds he was beyond the camera’s view.

  Tommy stopped the video. “That was Stephanie,” he said again. “But we don’t know who the man was, or if he’s even connected. He went the opposite way, but the thing is, there’s an alley on that side as well that leads to the parking lot in the back. It’s entirely possible that she went one way and he went the other and they still met up in the parking lot.”

  “Can we see him again?” Sam asked. “And can you slow it down?”

  Tommy nodded, fiddling with the computer. The video started again, but once the woman walked off frame, the passing cars slowed to a jerky crawl.

  The man stepped out. He hunched his shoulders and did not look at the camera. He wore a dark, athletic-style jacket, dark pants and dark shoes. In three steps, he moved off the screen.

  “Do we know how tall Stephanie is?” Sam asked. “And can we see her again, in slow motion?”

  Tommy started the video again. “I believe she was five-six, if I remember correctly. I can double-check.”

  She exited the club again. When she was in full view, Sam said, “Stop.”

  She froze, arm halfway up, one foot in the air. They all took note of her height in relation to the scene around her.

  “Okay, now him,” Sam said.

  The video lurched forward. She turned at half speed and moved off screen. The door opened again, the man stepped out.

  “Stop there.”

  The man’s two feet were on the ground, and his hands were up, settling the jacket about his shoulders. His hair was definitely dark.

  “Look about the same height to you?” Sam asked.

  “Very similar,” Tommy said.

  “The dark hair is definitely a match,” Sam noted, “but there’s not enough of anything else to say for sure.”

  Shaw, who had been silent, shifted in his chair. “You get any feelings about him?”

  Sam stared at the screen. “Not… not enough. I can’t be sure.”

  Shaw nodded. “Okay, let’s go on to the second one.”

  Tommy opened up the next file. “This is from a business next door to Rafferty’s, a bar a few blocks from the Stiletto. The woman is Joyce Augustine.”

  The camera faced the street from a high angle; only the sidewalk and the street were visible, and the dark windows of businesses on the far side of the street. Traffic was light. The autostamp of the time in the upper right corner said 1:43 a.m.

  A woman entered the frame from the
right. She held the collar of her coat close to her throat against the cold night air. Directly in front of the camera, she stopped and looked behind her. Then she smiled and started walking again, motioning with one hand for someone to follow her.

  And follow he did. A man stepped into the frame on the right—dark jacket, dark pants. He kept his head down as he passed the camera, but it was just possible to see his dark hair covering his forehead. Halfway across the frame, he hurried his step and jogged off.

  The screen went dark.

  “That’s him,” Sam said in an urgent whisper. “That’s him.”

  The captain turned toward Sam and stared at him thoughtfully. “How sure are you?” he asked finally.

  Sam blinked as if just coming awake. “A hundred percent.” His voice was louder, stronger. He met Shaw’s eyes directly.

  Shaw digested that, then angled his big body toward Tommy. “Take a copy of the sketch down to the lab. See if the guys there can correlate any features of that to this video.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  The captain turned back to Sam and Lacey. “You two keep doing what you’re doing. You’ve got more places to visit?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lacey said. “Actually the two places in the videos.”

  Shaw zeroed in on Sam. “Will it help seeing these? Knowing what happened, as much as we can tell?”

  Sam hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes. Ordinarily I would not want to know about the events beforehand, but in this case, the feelings are strong enough that I don’t think they’re susceptible to suggestion. I think whatever I get will be solid.”

  The captain nodded, more to himself than Sam. “All right.” He heaved to his feet. “See what you can find.” He locked eyes with Lacey. “And try to avoid the media as much as possible.”

  Lacey snorted. “No argument there, sir.”

  ~~~

  NINE

  In the LA Times the next morning, the sketch appeared on page three, above the fold. It, and the brief article, took up almost a quarter page. Below the fold, a smaller article noted that Sam and Lacey, the paranormal investigators recently seen on The Restless Dead, were witnessed coming and going from the LAPD station house. Luckily, there was no mention of those two stories being linked.