When It Comes (Vampire Assassin League Book 31) by Jackie Ivie Page B
Authors: Jackie Ivie
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Nineteen...fifty...six. We did that one visually. That case wasn’t even in the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. There could be more murders. Even older ones. Ponder that for a moment.”
The lighting went a hair bit dimmer. Mitch narrowed his eyes and pulled off the sunglasses. Nothing much happened. That was a relief. The spot in the center of his back relaxed. He folded the glasses and slid them into his breast pocket, then pulled out a chair.
“You have something to say, Detective Hartnett?”
Mitch sat. “I didn’t try to arrest anyone...sir. I did arrest her. She escaped by breaking my cuffs. And then she pulled the door off an unbreakable safe.”
“I know. I read your report. Several times. My flight just landed an hour ago. I didn’t get much sleep enroute. We may have had the same kind of night.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Doubtful,” he replied.
Randy coughed. Nobody said anything for several moments. The director pulled out a chair across from Mitch and sat. He folded his arms and leaned back. The chair creaked. It was loud in the silence. The director finally spoke, and ended his comment with two words that felt like a pronouncement.
“There’s no way that woman was in her twenties, detective. No. Way.”
Oh.
Mitch’s mind answered. Addie was very much in her twenties. Lithe. Rounded in exactly the right places. Smooth-skinned. Athletic. And she had the most fantastic legs...
“...possible explanation?”
Crap.
His attention had wandered? This was as bad as when the sketch of her eyes had snagged him during the session yesterday. Mitch leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Have you considered that she’s part of a group? A fringe one? Fanatical?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“And...just maybe they’ve got some method of imprinting latex gloves with the same set of fingerprints and they all wear them?”
“Latex wasn’t around in the fifties, detective.”
Mitch regarded him at length. “Rubber was.”
“True. But, that’s rather unbelievable. Don’t you think?”
Mitch shrugged.
“Have you looked over some of these crime scene files, detective?”
“Yeah. Yesterday.”
“Let’s talk Modus Operandi first , shall we? The murders take place at night. Alarm systems have been in place on eight of them and activated. But they aren’t triggered. Two of the scenes had active security guards on site. In one case, the victim was found inside a safe room. Concrete sides and floor. Combination safe door. The murderer pried off the door and tossed it aside. There were scratch marks on the metal. They resemble the ones found on your safe.”
Mitch grunted.
“Then...there’s the weapon. It’s always a sharp instrument. Forensics placed the blade length at ten to twenty-four inches. That means either forensics are dunces, or the perpetrator has access to different blades . ”
The instant image of Addie’s dagger came to mind. The one she’d shoved into the front of her petticoat and used to slit the garment open...the move revealing perfect legs. Supple thighs. Absolute heaven.
“...the blood evidence? There isn’t much. Most of the victims appear to have been drained of blood. Drained. Let’s stop for a moment and let that sink in, too. Shall we?”
“What about a sacrificial cult?”
Sam spoke up. Mitch glanced toward him. The director swiveled in his chair and moved his focus to the three agents.
“Sacrificial cult?”
“Yeah. Maybe something like...the Illuminati ?”
“You’ve been watching too much Sci-Fi channel, man,” Tom remarked.
Somebody snickered. It wasn’t him. The director turned back to Mitch.
“You have a different idea, detective?”
“Maybe there’s a link between the victims aside from M.O.?” Mitch offered.
The director smiled at him with the same type of expression Captain Thomas used.
“They appear completely random on the surface. But then something starts to become apparent. The
The lighting went a hair bit dimmer. Mitch narrowed his eyes and pulled off the sunglasses. Nothing much happened. That was a relief. The spot in the center of his back relaxed. He folded the glasses and slid them into his breast pocket, then pulled out a chair.
“You have something to say, Detective Hartnett?”
Mitch sat. “I didn’t try to arrest anyone...sir. I did arrest her. She escaped by breaking my cuffs. And then she pulled the door off an unbreakable safe.”
“I know. I read your report. Several times. My flight just landed an hour ago. I didn’t get much sleep enroute. We may have had the same kind of night.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Doubtful,” he replied.
Randy coughed. Nobody said anything for several moments. The director pulled out a chair across from Mitch and sat. He folded his arms and leaned back. The chair creaked. It was loud in the silence. The director finally spoke, and ended his comment with two words that felt like a pronouncement.
“There’s no way that woman was in her twenties, detective. No. Way.”
Oh.
Mitch’s mind answered. Addie was very much in her twenties. Lithe. Rounded in exactly the right places. Smooth-skinned. Athletic. And she had the most fantastic legs...
“...possible explanation?”
Crap.
His attention had wandered? This was as bad as when the sketch of her eyes had snagged him during the session yesterday. Mitch leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Have you considered that she’s part of a group? A fringe one? Fanatical?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“And...just maybe they’ve got some method of imprinting latex gloves with the same set of fingerprints and they all wear them?”
“Latex wasn’t around in the fifties, detective.”
Mitch regarded him at length. “Rubber was.”
“True. But, that’s rather unbelievable. Don’t you think?”
Mitch shrugged.
“Have you looked over some of these crime scene files, detective?”
“Yeah. Yesterday.”
“Let’s talk Modus Operandi first , shall we? The murders take place at night. Alarm systems have been in place on eight of them and activated. But they aren’t triggered. Two of the scenes had active security guards on site. In one case, the victim was found inside a safe room. Concrete sides and floor. Combination safe door. The murderer pried off the door and tossed it aside. There were scratch marks on the metal. They resemble the ones found on your safe.”
Mitch grunted.
“Then...there’s the weapon. It’s always a sharp instrument. Forensics placed the blade length at ten to twenty-four inches. That means either forensics are dunces, or the perpetrator has access to different blades . ”
The instant image of Addie’s dagger came to mind. The one she’d shoved into the front of her petticoat and used to slit the garment open...the move revealing perfect legs. Supple thighs. Absolute heaven.
“...the blood evidence? There isn’t much. Most of the victims appear to have been drained of blood. Drained. Let’s stop for a moment and let that sink in, too. Shall we?”
“What about a sacrificial cult?”
Sam spoke up. Mitch glanced toward him. The director swiveled in his chair and moved his focus to the three agents.
“Sacrificial cult?”
“Yeah. Maybe something like...the Illuminati ?”
“You’ve been watching too much Sci-Fi channel, man,” Tom remarked.
Somebody snickered. It wasn’t him. The director turned back to Mitch.
“You have a different idea, detective?”
“Maybe there’s a link between the victims aside from M.O.?” Mitch offered.
The director smiled at him with the same type of expression Captain Thomas used.
“They appear completely random on the surface. But then something starts to become apparent. The
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