It was one a.m. A text at this time had to be important. She slipped from Joel’s arms. Avoided the part of the floor that would squeak.
Her phone’s screen was still glowing when she picked it up. It was a note from her friend Ruben…Ruben who happened to be the chief medical examiner. His text was simple. Short. Just…
104.
Her hold tightened on the phone even as an unfamiliar emotion seemed to rise and cover her. Ice filled her blood, and for the first time in longer than she could remember…
Chloe was truly terrified.
Chapter Three
“I brought you beignets,” Chloe said as she lifted the small, white paper bag in her hand. “They are still warm.”
Dr. Ruben Minote glanced at her with his eyebrows raised. “If you really loved me, you would have also come with my favorite iced latte. If you really love me, and weren’t just, oh, trying to bribe your way inside my lab to see the bodies.”
Chloe slanted a glance over her right shoulder.
Joel lifted the iced latte he carried.
“You love me,” Ruben sighed. “I suspected it. So nice to have the suspicion confirmed.”
But he still didn’t move from his position at the door. The man was blocking access to the facility and currently burning up time that Chloe didn’t have to lose. When he reached for the beignet bag, Chloe pulled it out of reach. “I think these would be enjoyed more if you had them inside.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.” His gaze stayed on the bag. “I haven’t gotten permission from anyone in authority for you to enter the facility.”
She nodded. “Of course, but has anyone in authority told you that I could not be here?”
His mouth opened. Closed. “No?” He made the one word sound like a question.
“Excellent.” Her shoulders squared. “Then you have plausible deniability. You can say that since you were not informed I could not be here, then how could you know that I didn’t have access to view the bodies?”
“That’s not how plausible deniability works.”
“Certainly, it is.” Chloe got tired of waiting for him to move. She advanced. Dangled the bag. When he grabbed it, she darted past him. “We’ll only be here a moment. I just need to check a few things.”
“They are warm.” He opened the bag. “Look at all of that powdered sugar.”
“I told them to put extra on for you.” She was already heading to her destination. It was barely past seven a.m., so the place was deserted, except for Ruben. Just as she’d intended. She hurried to his lab and was aware of him and Joel following quickly behind her. When she entered the lab, the temp immediately dropped, but Chloe didn’t shiver. She was too intent on her goal. She ignored the smell of bleach and antiseptic and got to work.
“Here.” Joel pushed the drink at Ruben. “It’s your iced whatever.”
The files were on Ruben’s desk. As they always were. She went for the files, but Joel stopped to don a pair of gloves.
“I’m still working on the report and waiting for results,” Ruben told them as he sat in his swivel chair and went to town on the beignets. His eyes closed as he savored a bite. “Heaven.” Powdered sugar dotted his lips. “Just what I needed after an all-nighter. You would not believe the stress I am under. Cops want the results yesterday, of course. Already getting pressured because certain people in the old chain of command think we’re dealing with another serial. Like the mayor wants that to happen. The Big Easy does not need to be known as the serial killer capital of the world.” He paused to sip his latte. “Sweet, precious caffeine. God, I needed you.”
Chloe slanted him a quick glance. “There is no serial killer capital of the world. Serials don’t congregate together. They are—by their very natures—solitary. It is extremely rare to find a serial killing duo, and in those instances, you have one who is the dominant leading the other. A group of serial killers would never—” She stopped because Ruben was staring at her.
“He was joking, Chloe,” Joel said as he stood by a covered body.
Of course. “I knew that.”
“She just likes talking about her killers.” Ruben took another bite. Powdered sugar danced in the air around him. “Want one?”
“I already had one.” She thumbed through his files. As he’d told her in his one a.m. text, there had been exactly one hundred and four—
“Why did you want to know how many slices there were on the body?” Ruben asked her. His voice seemed overly loud, and she immediately winced. Could the man have not just satisfied himself with the beignets for a few moments longer?
But no, Joel had heard his words. Joel’s head whipped toward them. “How many slices were there?”
“One hundred and four,” Ruben announced cheerily. He pulled out another beignet. “Deepest ones were to the chest. One went straight in the heart.”
“Not like he could fight after that,” Chloe said.
“Nope. That’s why—in my report—I said that based on my analysis, it was the deeper wounds that were administered first. Obviously, the man was not just going to sit there while he’s sliced all over. I mean, he’d need to be restrained in some way. Hands and feet tied. Or he’d need to be drugged. Now, note, I don’t have the tox reports back yet, so everything I’m saying is preliminary, just between us friends, but to be sliced all over that way—deliberate slices that weren’t meant to do anything but maim, I don’t think—”
She shook her head.
He didn’t get the message because the man kept talking. “You do those kinds of marks if you want to torture the vic. The poor bastard was already so far gone he wouldn’t have felt them. Hell, with that wound to the heart, he wasn’t even alive for—”
Another shake of her head. Harder this time.
Ruben paused with a beignet poised toward his mouth. “What? Why do you keep shaking your head? You think I’m wrong?”
Silence. But, no, she didn’t think he was wrong.
Her head turned toward Joel.
Swearing, Ruben seemed to finally get it. His head swiveled toward Joel, too. “Oh, man. I am sorry.” He jumped to his feet and shoved the half-eaten beignet back in the bag. “I did not mean to stir up old memories for you. Shit. Again, sorry, I—”
“There were one hundred and four wounds on him?” Joel’s voice was flat. No emotion.
“That’s what I counted, yes.” He hurried close to the body. “I texted Chloe that number last night after she asked me to give her a count ASAP. Didn’t see why it was important, still don’t,” he muttered as he glanced back at her. “Obviously, the perp was in a rage or just freaking crazy so the exact number probably didn’t matter for—”
“It matters,” Joel cut in. His gaze rose to pin Chloe. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I asked Ruben to check the body again. There was no point in telling you something that could have been a mistake. With that high of a number, it would be easy to miscount.” She shut the file. Rose and headed toward the exam table. The body on that table was that of Glenn Towers. His eyes were closed. His skin had turned the chalky color that came with death. She studied him for a moment. Looked at the stab wounds and all the slices. Chloe was aware that Joel and Ruben were both doing the same thing. The wounds in the chest were the deepest, anyone could see that. The slices on the rest of Glenn’s body were much lighter. Intended to torture—if he’d been alive when they’d been delivered.