Forced fracture, p.12
Forced Fracture, page 12
“Are you saying I’m reckless?”
“Of course not. I’ve never seen you drive. I have however watched you interrogate a suspect.”
“I explained it to you. You know he wasn’t our guy, and so, my technique worked. Scare the shit out of them and watch the reaction. What’s his name almost wet himself.”
“Yes, definitely not the reaction of a hardened criminal.”
“What do we know of the latest victim?”
“Not a lot. There’s some doubt whether this is our same perp.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Her name is Jessica Madden, she’s blonde, posed, but her hair was chopped off, leaving her dark roots only, cheap hotel.” She paused. “Well, cheaper than most.”
“What the hell? Different, but then we are hunting a serial.” “Yes, her hair was neatly placed in a pile next to her clothes, which like the others, was folded and placed on the dresser.” She paused. “Unfortunately, or fortunately, she is comatose much like Sara was.”
“Who called in?”
“She was able to knock the room phone off the nightstand before going totally under, luckily reaching the operator.”
“Was there any trace evidence? Anything we can use?”
“Too soon to tell.” She paused. “The chopping off her hair has me intrigued.”
“I have no clue. My Psych knowledge is limited.”
“It’s as if he was offended by her hair color, and took it as, I don’t know, some kind of…”
“Sacrilege?”
Peyton mused. “Hmm, strong statement, but, yes, it could be an affront, or somehow offensive, causing an individual to respond like that.”
Jagger was nervous and began to tap his fingers to the radio. “Well, something is driving this suspect.” He let out a breath of frustration, anxious tension filled his personal space. “If you get tired, I’m more than willing to drive.”
“Detective Scott, are you claustrophobic, or a control freak?” Peyton teased.
“If I said yes, would you let me drive?”
“No.”
The need for gas and a restroom break afforded Jagger enough time to slide behind the wheel before Peyton came back to the car. She had bottled water, beef jerky, a Snickers bar, and pretzels.
When she eyed Jagger in the driver’s seat, she shook her head in disbelief and climbed in.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She ripped into her bag of pretzels.
“Alright, I would love to see what you get when you, are, hungry.” He pulled onto the interstate and his body relaxed. “Is my presence bothering you, Peyton?”
She took a bite of her Snickers bar and then followed it up with pretzels. While she was still chewing, she acclaimed, “Not at all. Why would it?”
“I don’t know, you just seem off.” He glanced at her. “You seem rattled; not your usual composed, in control, Agent Morgan.”
She wasn’t going to admit that in her mind, he was naked, top to bottom and she was draped over his body like a warm towel. She wouldn’t say that. So instead, she chose defense.
“What the hell does that even mean, Scott? My gosh, we are chasing after a serial, something. He doesn’t rape them. He drugs them, poses them into his deranged idea of what he wants, and why? Why the hell do it? Other than drugging them into coma, he doesn’t seem to injure them. I am at my wits’ end with this case!” She huffed and sipped her water. She also was not telling him, in this enclosed space, she could smell him. Clean, and sweet. It could be the candy bar she was chewing. His body heat and her lack of intimacy combined to make her feel positively itchy. Now, though, she wasn’t driving, and her mind was free to wander, and it was.
“I think I’ve deserved a salt carb binge!”
Jagger tried to find calming music but only found an alternative rock station. “I apologize.” His lips were smiling.
“I miss my little girl. I miss my bed and my coffeepot. I miss knowing where my day will head. I’m so angry! I should’ve had him by now! Those poor girls!”
“I get it. Trust me, I do. I need to say though, don’t be angry with yourself. This freak would only get off on it. Be angry at him. He will trip up; and when he does, we’ll catch him.”
She laid her head back. “I sure hope it happens soon.”
Polaski had made reservations for Peyton at the nicest hotel near the police headquarters heading up the latest case. She would, no doubt, have full control over the case once it was in fact, considered the same MO and suspect.
The clerk at the desk punched keys. “I have one room, two queen beds. There are a lot of fishing competitions happening.”
“Peyton, I’ll go somewhere else and meet you here in the morning.”
“Jagger, no, it’s fine. We have two beds. Just stay here.” She looked up just in time to see the clerk sneering. She slapped her palm down on the counter. “We’ll take it.” She snatched the pass card for the room and turned toward the elevators with Jagger behind her, grabbing their bags.
“Hold up.” He quickened his pace, trying to catch her, and just made it before the doors slid closed.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Yes sir…just arrived… tomorrow 0900…Stacy Renaud… got it… yes sir.”
They stepped off the elevator on the second floor and the room was first on the right.
“Was that your fearless leader?”
She yanked the handle of the door down and pushed it open. “Yes,” she bit.
“What’s happened?” He set the bags on the bed. “If nothing has happened, I’d say, you need sleep.”
She turned on him. “Don’t tell me what I need! You have no idea what I need!”
He was in her space in one step and wrapped his hands around her shoulders. She took a surprised gasp and their eyes locked together. “Because I know you have the capability of throwing my ass onto the floor, I will ask you, is my being this close to you, going to get me injured?”
“Depends.”
“On…?”
She looked down and away from him. “On…what your intentions are.” She tried to move away from him, ever so slightly.
Jagger lowered his hands to the middle of her back, and he gently pulled her into his chest. She leaned a fraction of a distance from him, but Jagger pulled her back in to his arms. She laid her head down to his chest and closed her eyes. The tension rolled through her and away from her body to a closed off space in the room. He gently held her, calmed her, like gentling a feisty kitten. Her hands tensed and relaxed as she grasped and squeezed the flesh on his back.
The smell of her hair was intoxicating as he felt her relax into his arms. God, but she felt so right: She belonged. He kept soothing her; all the while pulling his fingers through her hair. Soft and smooth as it slid from his fingers. He imagined the cool tresses lying over his body, spread across his thighs. He jerked back as he hardened, causing him to tense. She looked up and he met her hungry eyes. He began to shake his head, to try and explain his desire for her away. There were no words and the moment faded.
Peyton stepped back and exhaled, patting his chest in an awkward motherly fashion, in a strained effort to put away the heated feelings the two of them desperately wanted. “We both need to sleep.”
It was early. Six a.m., and Jagger could no longer lay there. He’d tossed and turned all night thinking of her in the bed next to his. Looking at her now, sleeping, he appreciated just how beautiful she was. He studied her face. The pinched, deliberate look she wore during the day was gone. Would she look this way after making love, sated and content? Would she hunger for more? She would be a fiery lover, a woman who knew what she needed, took what she wanted. He knew he could love her. The ache between his legs began again. He needed to walk it off, and he needed coffee.
An hour and a half later he slowly came into the room. The doors never close quietly, and Peyton stirred as he walked in. He sat the coffee and donuts on the nightstand between the beds and pulled the lids free from the coffee. She stirred once more and pulled the sheet over her face. Peeking from under the sheet, she raised her head and looked at him.
“Oh, yeah.” She rubbed her eyes. “You’re here.”
He opened his arms presenting the coffee. “Yes, I know it’s disappointing, but I brought gifts.” He chuckled.
“What time is it?” She sat up in the bed with the sheets bunched around her waist.
He started to hand her the coffee, but she put her hand up. “Bathroom.”
He turned away, embarrassed, but watched as she ambled into the restroom. Her sleep shorts had curled at her waist, rising higher on one side than the other side. He caught a glimpse of the curve of her ass…just where it met with her leg. He was going to have to take another walk. She came out of the restroom and stretched her arms over her head. “How long have you been awake?”
Damn. She put on a robe. “A few hours now.” He offered the bag of donuts. “Want one?”
She plopped onto the bed and looked into the bag. “Ooh, a maple glazed! I love these!”
Jagger made a mental note and smiled. “What’s on the agenda?”
“At nine, the officer from the local police is going to pick me… us, up to look through the evidence on the case.”
“And who am I, exactly?” he asked.
She took a bite of her donut and licked the sweet maple confection from her lips. “Exactly? I don’t know yet.” She looked directly into his eyes. “For the time being, however, you are a consultant working with me. Because…you have extensive knowledge in this kind of investigation.”
He laughed. “You should be a fiction writer. Did you just come up with that?”
“I did, and as long as you stay relatively quiet, and observant, you should be fine.”
“Ah. Well, I’m not going to make any promises.” He watched her enjoy the maple glazing on her donut. “I need a shower. Unless you want to go first.”
She took the last bite of the sweet treat and shrugged her shoulders. “No, go on ahead. I want to check my email and check in with Polaski once more. We meet Stacy Renaud at nine. I imagine she’ll call.” She watched him as he grabbed his toiletries and set his bag on the bed.
“Alright, I’ll go first. I promise not to use all the hot water.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Detective Scott.”
Peyton checked her messages and phoned Polaski. He wanted to make sure there were open lines of communication from Jessica’s doctor to Sara’s doctor; just in case it could help. There were similarities between the two. She wouldn’t be lax in requesting protection for Jessica. If it was the same as it had been concerning Sara, the suspect would stay in the area. Peyton hoped the suspect would make mistakes as he seemed to be devolving as he becomes more confident.
Jagger opened the door and a burst of steam preceded him as he walked out with a towel around his waist. “Amazing shower. You wouldn’t believe the water pressure.”
She watched water droplets race down his body only to be drank up by the towel. “I’m sorry. I was too wet to put jeans on.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t worry about it. We’re adults. I’m going to take mine now. You can dress while…yeah, while I’m not out here.” She leapt off the bed grabbing her change of clothes and a small makeup bag, quickly closing the door before she acted on the impulse to pull on the towel to see how perfect his ass was. She shook the image off and started the water running. She luxuriated in the massaging sting of the water pressure. He had spoken the truth. This had to be the best shower she’d ever experienced. She let the water strike her shoulders and felt the muscles relax. Breathing in the steam, she let it wash through her chest and lungs. Feeling thoroughly clean she cooled her body by slowly adjusting the cold water, waking her up from the steamy solitude. Bringing the flow to a screeching halt, she listened to the drops fall from her body. She sighed. Another victim.
Jagger flipped on the television and watched as the local news stations were all about the fishing competitions the different charter companies had sponsored. No wonder they’d had to share a room. Jagger smiled at the circumstance. He could hear the hair dryer running and he imagined her in the mirror, pulling her fingers through her hair, naked, except for a small pair of panties. The door opened, and she stepped out looking beautifully flushed and ready to take on whatever jumped in front of her. Her hair was loose and wild all around her shoulders and back.
“Whew, you weren’t kidding. Best shower, ever.” Jagger lazily appreciated the silhouette of her breasts through her thin t-shirt as her hands pulled and bound it in a ponytail. “Let’s head down to the lobby and check out the locals while we wait on Renaud.”
“Speaking of, have you heard anything from Ray?”
“No, I haven’t. He was busy working his new case when we left.” Her cell rang. “Hello…this is…yes, me and my assistant, will follow you…no, we’ve eaten, thank you…see you out front.”
Detective Stacy Renaud was in her early forties and had a serious southern accent, with light brown, shoulder length hair. She was looking out the passenger window. “You Agent Morgan?”
Peyton showed her identification. “Follow me. We’re going to the hospital.”
Peyton and Jagger brought the rental to the front of the hotel and honked when they pulled up behind the detective. “I wonder why she’s all gung-ho on the hospital. I thought we were going to look at the evidence and the report.” Jagger looked concerned.
“You don’t think,” she paused, “Jessica took a turn for the worse, do you?”
“I’m just an observer, but something doesn’t feel right.”
Thirteen
Shaking hands, the detective made quick introductions and led them to the hospital’s rear entry. Jagger and Sara looked at each other quizzically and shrugged.
“What’s happened? Why are we entering through the back?” Peyton rushed to press the detective in this matter. “Detective Renaud has she passed? Are we headed toward the morgue?”
“Agent Morgan. Please call me Stacy. No, she has not passed.” She stopped mid stride and faced them. “Dr. Sanchez, the doctor for your Fort Lauderdale victim spoke to Jessica’s doctor about the course of treatment she gave Sara. Jessica has come out of her unconsciousness; her condition isn’t being released to the public.”
Peyton clasped her hands behind her head. “Thank you, God.”
“Ah! Wonderful!” Jagger put his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe she’ll be able to help identify him?”
Stacy Renaud turned and walked farther down the hall with Peyton and Jagger in tow. Jessica Madden was resting in her bed with fluids attached to her IV. Her hair cut unevenly, hacked off with a sharp knife or dull scissors. They knocked on her door.
“Yes, hello?”
“Jessica, I’m Detective Renaud, and this is Agent Morgan and Mr. Scott. They are working on the federal aspect of this case. Federal, because we believe the man responsible for victimizing you is also responsible for doing this to at least four other women.”
Tears welled in her eyes until like an over full cup, they slid down her cheeks. “I really don’t remember much. I don’t know what I can tell you. Oh God, why me? How could this happen?! Why? Why the fuck cut my hair? Fuckin’ asshole! Look at it! It’s ruined!”
Peyton came to the bed and offered her hand. “I’m Peyton. Jessica, how long have you been in Cocoa Beach?”
“I just got here. Last night? I’m pretty sure. Just now.”
Detective Renaud answered. “Yes, last night. The clerk at the hotel verified it.”
Jagger stepped forward. “Are you here on vacation?”
“No, I was in Fort Lauderdale. I came here to see my grandparents. My grandfather is ill. I need to get out of here and go see him. Before it’s too late.” She started to pull the sheet from her body.
“No, no, I don’t think your doctor has released you yet. Calm down. We need to talk to you.” Jagger smoothed the sheet back. “Fort Lauderdale? You came from there? How?” he asked.
“I’m from up north, school.” She rubbed her forehead. “I bought a bus ticket.”
“Did you meet anyone on the bus? Sit next to anyone? Anyone approach you?” Peyton added.
She closed her eyes and laid her head on the pillow. She pulled her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God!” She’d had enough, and the tears were free falling now.
“Guys, could I talk to her alone?” Peyton got a glass of water and handed it to Jessica.
Renaud nodded, and she and Jagger went into the hall.
Peyton sat in the chair on Jessica’s left side. Jessica rolled toward her in the fetal position. “Tell me what you can remember?”
After a deep breath she began. “I was late to the bus station. I would’ve been on time, but my ride was late, then I’d left one of my bags and had to go back to my friend’s house to get it.”
“When you got to the station did you meet anyone?”
“No…I asked an attendant and he directed me to the right bus. I just made it onto the bus, and I was so embarrassed, but there was a nice man who actually had an empty seat and even helped me with my things.”
“Did he give his name?”
Jessica closed her eyes. After a moment she answered. “I…no, he didn’t. I didn’t think anything of it but then later, he offered to share a cab.”
“Did you share a cab? Do you remember what he looked like? Anything about him?”
“Yes, he helped me get my bags into the, you know, uh…the cab, taxi.”
Peyton could tell the drugs still affected her. “Do you recall the color of his hair, eyes, clothes? Did he talk about his plans or why he was traveling to Cocoa Beach?”
She put both of her hands on each temple as if to will her memory to the forefront of her thoughts. “Fishing! He was going fishing, and his brother, they, were going on a fishing trip. He was not old, not young.”
“Thirties, maybe?” Peyton asked.
“Yes. White, good looking, nice smile, medium brown hair. There was something funny he said. I remember laughing and then…I’m sorry, I’m getting confused.”
