End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(57)
Rio said, “We have the DNA from the kiss. If you can find him through the identification he used, all we need is a swab of his mouth.”
Surprised, Lia said, “We got DNA from the kiss on the other body? When did that happen?”
Rio grinned and said, “Yeah, we did. I got the results right before this call, but I don’t know if this is the same guy. It feels the same, but it’s not.”
“Why?”
“For one, this is not the woman’s apartment. The killer rented the place instead of using the woman’s own place like the other three. For another, he or she came to kill. The victim made it about five feet into the place before he wrapped her neck in a cord and squeezed the life out of her.”
“So no sexual assault? Just a killing? That’s like the other ones.”
“Yeah, but this one was planned. It was calculated. You said yourself the others were crimes of passion. A lamp to bash someone’s head, a knife found at the apartment to slit a throat. This time he brought the killing with him. And he murdered someone outside his usual targets. The woman is an immigrant from Africa. A black woman. All of the others were Caucasian and blond.”
“So a copycat?”
Rio stood and said, “I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not his MO. Not a streetwalker’s house, and he’s brought the weapon with him. I agree that the others were because something went wrong, but on this one he came in solely to kill. Maybe he’s changing his MO. Maybe he’s decided that just killing is better than anything else. I don’t know.”
Wearing gloves, he went to the open kitchen window and held up a red cord of about a half-inch in diameter draped across the sill, most of it hanging outside, saying, “This is the killing weapon. And he left it here in the windowsill. Like he wanted us to find it.”
She said, “It’s bright red. What is it?”
Confused, Rio said, “It’s a climbing rope. A kernmantle climbing rope. Nothing more.”
“And he hung it outside the window? Why?”
“Who knows? He left it for a reason, though. He placed it.”
She nodded, then repeated, “It’s red.”
“So? What’s that mean?”
She turned a circle, then said, “In the Bible, there’s a prostitute from Jericho who hid spies from the land of Israel. When the Israelites return to sack Jericho, she’s told to protect herself by hanging a red cord outside of her window. The Israelites saw the cord and spared her life, even though she was a whore. Maybe I’m crazy, but I think it’s the same killer and he used a red cord on purpose. It’s something to do with her being a prostitute.”
“But this cord didn’t spare the woman’s life. It’s the method by which she died. Doesn’t really fit into the biblical story.”
“I know. But he placed the cord outside the window. Maybe he thought by killing her he was sparing her.”
“That makes no sense.”
Lia looked around the room and said, “This guy is crazy. Nothing he does makes sense. Get some DNA off of that rope, and let’s match it.”
A uniformed police officer came up the stairs and said, “Ma’am, we have a couple of United States officials who want to see you.”
Rio stood up, saying, “What?”
The officer said, “I stopped them at the door, but they’re pretty insistent. They want to talk to the officer in charge.”
Lia looked at Rio and said, “More strangeness. What do you think?”
“Can’t hurt to talk to them. But not up here.”
“I agree.” She turned to the officer and said, “Tell them I’ll be down shortly.”
In the park, Garrett heard the words through his tablet and felt like he’d been struck by the hand of God.
She knows why I did it. She knows what this is about.
She had recognized the significance of the rope, and it was a sign. Maybe she could end his agony. Maybe she was the one. Maybe she could break through the spell that had held him in pain since Syria.
He felt a stirring in his groin, a tingle that he hadn’t felt since the torture in Syria. And became convinced. It was a sign.
She would have to die afterward, as originally planned, but that was already a given. He had no idea how she knew to track his fake identification. He had been sure all of his information was untraceable—but he hadn’t considered the IP address when ordering. That would put him in Rome. Something that was too close to let go. If she followed that thread, she might close in on him in a day—before he was to leave.
And how did they know he’d kissed the other one’s cheek? It didn’t really matter how they’d known, but they had his DNA now. They were much closer than he thought. All it would take was them showing up at the Knights of Malta with a swab kit and he was done.
No, she had to go. Tonight.
Through the cameras he’d installed, he knew her name was Vairo, and that she lived in Trastevere. That was enough to find her location. He would pay her a visit, but it wouldn’t be just to kill her. He wanted to know how she’d figured out the rope. Maybe she deserved more than just a death. Maybe she deserved redemption. She was special, of that he was sure.
He saw a car enter the parking lot, circling around as if in confusion. It parked, and a man and woman exited. The man was tall, without an ounce of fat on him, with short brown hair like he cut it himself and a rough visage. He had ice blue eyes and a white slash of a scar that tracked down his cheek into the stubble of his beard. Garrett had met many men such as him in his career, and honestly considered himself to be in that fraternity. It was obvious by the way he carried himself, he was not someone to trifle with. But why was he here?’