Killing Ways

36

Ren smiled. Lucchesi? For Duke Rawlins, you can stand in line.

The little girl stirred in her father’s arms.

‘This is my daughter, Grace,’ said Joe.

Grace Lucchesi had beautiful long hair, that, unlike her dad’s, was light brown with strands of blonde running through it. She had long, fair eyelashes, a pretty pouting mouth. She was a skinny thing, dressed in a cute pink sundress with a white cardigan over it.

You will break hearts, little lady.

Grace opened one eye, looked at Ren, then closed it.

‘She’s beautiful,’ whispered Ren. But why the heck did you bring her here?

A flushed young woman, petite, with shiny black hair to her shoulders, jogged up behind the Lucchesis. She had a booster seat under her arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Joe.’

French. ‘But I found it!’ She was holding up a tiny gray bear. She unzipped the backpack Joe was wearing and put it in.

Joe smiled. ‘Agent Bryce, this is Camille, Grace’s nanny.’

‘Hi,’ said Ren. ‘And please call me Ren. Nice to meet you, Camille.’

I wonder, are you and Joe a thing?

‘You must be wondering why we’re all here,’ said Joe

Not exactly what I was wondering.

‘My son, Shaun, is graduating. He did a Masters in Forensic Psychology here — in Denver University. We were coming to visit him anyway. Once I spoke with your boss, I brought my flight forward. I was tempted to leave Grace behind, but I couldn’t. She was too excited to see her big brother graduate.’

Bomb in auditorium.

Why do I think this shit?

They began to walk toward the exit. Camille was walking a respectful distance behind.

‘I hope you don’t mind we’re a whole posse,’ said Joe.

‘Not at all,’ said Ren. But I think you’re insane.

They settled into the Jeep. Grace was still asleep. Camille put on Bose noise cancellation headphones.

‘I spent the last few hours reading everything I could online about Duke Rawlins,’ said Ren. And about you: forty-nine years old, ex-Manhattan North Homicide detective, current holder of P.I. license, born in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, was married to Anna Lucchesi, one son — Shaun, twenty-six, no mention anywhere of Grace.

‘Tell me what you’ve got,’ said Joe. He seemed tense, ruffled.

Ren glanced in the rear-view mirror.

‘Grace won’t wake up,’ said Joe. ‘And Camille knows the drill.’

‘You’re a scary boss,’ said Ren.

His face was set.

Alrighty, then.

Ren began with the crimes, the M.O. and the victims.

‘That’s his M.O.,’ said Joe, nodding. ‘It came from Rawlins’ obsession with Harris hawks: one of the only birds of prey to hunt collaboratively. That never made it into the media. The obvious wounds you’ve described on the most recent victim mimic those made by the hawk and its talons. Rawlins and his accomplice — Donald Riggs — killed as a team. They started out in Stinger’s Creek, Texas when they were teens. Donald Riggs would ‘flush out’ the victim, he and Rawlins would strip her naked, then hunt her through the woods. Most of the time Rawlins used an arrow shot from a bow to bring the victim to the ground, but when he was forced to improvise, he did — using a knife. When the victim was down, either or both men raped her before killing her, then left the bodies out or made some kind of bullshit attempt to cover them. Obviously, Rawlins is no longer using a bow and arrow, which could simply be a convenience thing or that he’s come to prefer the closer contact of using only the knife.

As you know — Rawlins is a mixed offender. From what you told me about the woman who was killed in her back garden, I think he stumbled upon that — I don’t think she was someone he planned to kill. It was risky. Especially with children there. Something must have made him snap. He killed a woman in similar circumstances in his original spree. Maybe anything that seems like a happy home to him is something he wants to destroy. Son of a junkie prostitute doesn’t make for a happy home.’

‘When you put it like that...’

‘Tell me about this guy, Vine, that Gary mentioned.’

Ren talked him through it.

‘And has Rawlins approached you?’ said Joe. She could see his jaw twitch.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Well, he has a major problem with law enforcement.’

Did you ever think maybe Rawlins just has a major problem with you?

‘You killed his partner in crime,’ said Ren. ‘Is that not reason enough for him to have targeted you?’

‘It’s more than that,’ said Joe. ‘Haven’t you spoken to your boss?’

Wow — loving the disdain.

‘Gary?’ said Ren. ‘About Duke Rawlins’ problem with law enforcement?’ What the hell? Does he know something? Why hasn’t he told me whatever it is already?

‘I’ll let him tell you,’ said Joe.

Grace Lucchesi woke up only when Ren parked the Jeep outside the hotel.

Very fancy.

‘Daddy?’ said Grace.

‘I’m here, sweetheart,’ said Joe, turning around to her. ‘We’re in Denver. We’re at the hotel.’

‘Where’s—’

Camille pulled off her headphones and handed Grace the gray bear. Her face lit up.

‘Grace, say hi to Ren,’ said Joe. ‘She’ll be working with Daddy.’

‘Nice to meet you, Grace,’ said Ren.

Grace reached forward and shook her hand. ‘You too, ma’am.’

Ren looked at Joe. ‘Adorable.’

‘How old are you?’ said Ren.

‘Six!’ said Grace, holding up her five fingers, eventually adding the thumb on her other hand. ‘I’m nearly seven!’

‘Good for you,’ said Ren.

What else can I say to that? I’m not great with child small talk. ‘I like your dress.’

‘Daddy got it for me,’ said Grace.

Bless his heart.

He looked uncomfortable with the release of this small personal detail.

‘I don’t have a mommy,’ said Grace.

I knowww. But I hoped we wouldn’t go there so soon! Rescue me, someone!

Joe’s head snapped around, but his voice was gentle. ‘You do have a mommy, sure you do—’

‘She’s in heaven!’ said Grace, cheerily. ‘It’s a really beautiful place.’

‘It is, you’re right,’ said Ren. She turned to Joe. He looked stricken.

‘Why don’t you guys hold on here,’ said Ren. ‘Your daddy and I will get the bags from the back.’

‘Thanks for the ride,’ said Joe when they were at the back of the Jeep. ‘I know it’s late. I appreciate it.’ He took the bags and put them on the sidewalk.

‘I’ll swing by in the morning,’ said Ren, ‘pick you up at eight thirty — is that OK?’

‘There’s no need,’ said Joe. ‘I can—’

‘It’s not a problem.’

He nodded toward Grace, who was happily chatting with Camille. ‘She’s never said that about her mother before.’

‘It’s probably one of those things, someone said something in school or...’ What the hell do I know?

Joe let out a breath. ‘She hasn’t a mommy because Duke Rawlins injured her mommy so badly, her body couldn’t cope with giving birth.’

Jesus Christ. I had no idea that was the reason.

‘Duke Rawlins once said it to me himself: “I’m the gift that keeps on giving.”’

Joe was staring at Ren, but his thoughts were clearly drifting.

Oh, no. You’re not here for regular justice. You’re here to kill a man with your bare hands.

Ren drove away, watching them all shrink in her rear-view mirror. There was something so tragic about them.

She dialed Gary’s number. He picked up.

‘It’s me,’ said Ren. ‘What have you not told me about Duke Rawlins?’

‘What do you mean?’ said Gary.

‘Is he watching me?’ said Ren. ‘Do you know something? Joe Lucchesi asked me had Duke Rawlins approached me and—’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa,’ said Gary. ‘This is not about you.’

‘Really?’ said Ren.

‘Believe it or not, no,’ said Gary. ‘I’ll explain tomorrow. It’s late—’

‘Who is it about, then?’

Patient sigh. ‘Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. What’s Lucchesi like?’

Hmmm. ‘He’s all right.’

‘Renspeak for you don’t like him.’

‘So far,’ said Ren. ‘He had a weird reaction to me, like I unsettled him. Maybe he doesn’t like women or can’t take them seriously as case agents.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Gary. ‘Don’t make rash judgments.’

‘I don’t, but... we’re not exactly...’ Stop talking or Gary will take you off this. ‘It’s late, we’re tired, he’s been traveling, there’s a serial killer out there, he knows how bad that is, so do we.’

‘Get some rest,’ said Gary. ‘And thanks for picking him up.’

As Ren drove toward home, her phone beeped with a text.

Mauser! My drinking buddy from Breckenridge!

Another text came in.

Little Dick! My other drinking buddy from Breck!

Work tomorrow. Important day. Visiting detective.

Ren drove home, and parked the Jeep. She ran into the apartment, changed into pale gray evening trousers, a silver vest top, a chunky cuff, dark gray metallic heels, and a short gray jacket. She came down, ran onto the street, and hopped into the cab she had called on her way. It was one thirty a.m. But she was home by six.