Where the Blame Lies(35)

He took a surprised step backward, the bag he held in his hand falling to the floor, his head jerking slightly. He looked to where Josie sat, her limbs pulled in to her body, visibly shaking. After a very brief hesitation, he walked over to her, squatting next to the mattress and running his fingers over her ankles. Her eyes followed the movement and she saw that there were red marks marring her skin. They looked like bites, though Josie didn’t remember being bitten, just scratched. Had she slept that deeply? Another shiver wracked her body. Marshall stood, walking to the corner where the rats had disappeared into the wall. He stared at it for a moment before returning to Josie’s side. “They must have just f-figured out a way in here.” He looked away as if in thought. “They probably s-smell you. Or the food that I b-bring.”

“Please let me go,” she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper. “This isn’t right. Please.” She’d asked him over and over, begged, cajoled, but he’d always ignored her before this. This time, he paused, staring at her, tilting his head as if in thought. She held her breath. But he simply turned, walking to the doorway where he’d dropped the fast food bag, picking it up and tossing it at her. It landed on the floor next to her mattress. Marshall closed the door behind him. Josie let out a slow breath.

She ate some of the older food under her mattress and saved the fresh food as part of her rations, surprised when she heard Marshall returning a little while later.

He came into the room with a bag in his hand, walking directly to the place the rats had come from. He placed something down on the floor and then went to each corner, placing the same black boxes down there as well. “B-bait stations,” he said. “They’ll eat the p-poison and go back to their nests and die.” He turned toward Josie. “Did you know that a p-pair of r-rats can produce twenty-f-four to s-seventy-two offspring in a year? I know about r-rats,” he finished quietly.

Josie swallowed, shaking her head. He continued to stare at her. His eyes roamed her body, lingering on her large belly. Her blood grew cold. He hadn’t touched her since he’d felt the baby move and she’d dared to hope he wouldn’t touch her again. Her body was no longer only hers. It housed her child and the thought of being used—abused—right then was particularly horrifying. “I hate r-rats,” he said, his eyes lifting to hers. And then he turned and he left the room.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Zach felt like he was experiencing a horrific déjà vu. The girl in front of him lay on the floor, her hands shackled in chains behind her back, body in a state of decomposition. He resisted the urge to flinch at the awful stench that met his nose. This one had died more recently than the last.

“Despite your many good qualities, I was really hoping we wouldn’t be seeing each other again for a while,” Dolores said, putting what looked like a thread held with tweezers into a small plastic container.

“Likewise.”

Zach heard his name behind him and turned to see Jimmy stepping through the doorway to the basement room they were in, the one that had once been dark and now was flooded with bright LED light, criminalists working in various areas.

“Dolores,” Jimmy greeted, and she nodded up at him before focusing back on her work. He squatted next to Zach, taking in the victim in front of them. “Straight out of a horror movie,” he muttered. “Who found her?”

“A vagrant looking for a place to sleep. Says he smelled her the minute he walked in. He’s a Vietnam vet and he told the operator that once you’ve been around a dead body, you know the smell anywhere.”

“Can’t argue there.” Of course, Jimmy and Zach knew that better than anyone. Death had an odor unlike anything else. “Did the vagrant come down here to check it out or call the cops?”

“Called.”

“Good man.” Zach nodded. They all appreciated the fact that the homeless man hadn’t compromised the crime scene. Made their job a little easier anyway.

Zach looked over at Jimmy who was leaning around the body to get a better look at the shackles. “Josie good when you left her?”

Jimmy glanced at Zach, but Zach looked back to the body before he could try to read anything into his expression. “Yeah, she was fine. Horton and Vogel are both hanging out until you can get there.”

“Good.”

“Looks like the same exact MO from the previous crime scene photos I looked at,” Jimmy said. “What’s your take having personally been at both scenes?”

“Same guy,” Zach said. “I’d bet on it. This girl is also young like Aria Glazer.”

“Any way to tell how long she’s been here?” Jimmy asked Dolores.

“Long enough to starve to death.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting that settle.

“And this is what Josie Stratton experienced too,” Jimmy murmured, voice tight. Zach glanced at him and noticed a small tic in his jaw.

“Similar,” Zach answered. “At one point he unchained one of her hands. That’s not the case with this victim, or Aria Glazer. At least not at the time he left them to die. And of course, there was the pregnancy. That’s different too.”

“Prophylactic residue on this one,” Dolores said, obviously listening to their conversation though she looked laser-focused on her work. “Signs of sexual assault.”