Goddess of Justice by Dwayne Clayden (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📕

Dice handed a plastic bag of money from the cash box to the closest girl. “Say nothing to anyone. But if the police stop you, say …”

The three girls grabbed their screaming friend and raced out of the room.

Dice lifted the camera back into position, then hit the pause button.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sam Steele and Charlie Zerr met Sergeant Briscoe at a coffee shop on Memorial Drive and Edmonton Trail at 10:30 p.m. The waitress had barely finished pouring their coffee when dispatch radioed Briscoe to call in pronto. Briscoe finished the phone call, waved to them and headed out the back door. When they caught up to him, he told them an anonymous call had come in that three teens were acting strangely and wandering around Sixteenth Avenue without winter parkas. When the street cops talked to them, the girls eventually said they were held captive and forced to do sex tapes. But someone had come in, killed all the men and told them to get out.

Steele and Zerr followed Briscoe’s van to the scene. No time to be discreet, Zerr pulled up to the front of the parlor. He and Steele jumped out, grabbed their rifles, and headed to the house. Zerr limped through the snow as they ascended the front steps. Steele shouldered open the door. A man lay in a sizable puddle of blood. Zerr stepped past Steele, his gun sweeping the reception area.

Steele knelt next to the victim, slid off a black glove, and reached for a pulse. He shook his head. With a hand signal, Steele directed Briscoe to remain by the door.

Zerr stepped to a hall and again aimed his rifle. Steele brushed past and into the parlor toward six chairs.

The room was empty. Steele headed back to Zerr and gently gripped his shoulder. Then Zerr stepped forward. The first door on the left was open and empty.

Zerr stopped in the room’s doorway on the right and held up his fist. Steele stopped behind Zerr, who pointed to a door on the left.

Steele opened the door and peered in—empty. He stepped past Zerr and checked the second room on the left. An unoccupied bedroom. He nodded and mouthed, Clear.

Zerr nodded and stepped into the room to the right. “Sweet baby Jesus.”

Steele moved to his left. “Ah, shit.” He keyed his radio. “Dispatch, TSU has cleared the scene. No hostiles. But we have four DOA. I need the Crime Scene Unit. I’ll get Sergeant Briscoe to contact Homicide.”

Brad had been at Maggie’s gravesite when he received the page from Briscoe. Brad wasn’t sure how Staff Sergeant Jackson would react to Briscoe circumventing the system and again paging Brad directly, rather than having dispatch call the next Homicide team. The drive took less than five minutes.

Brad parked his Firebird behind the TSU truck. He stepped out of the car. Lobo stuck his head out of the back window. He loved hanging his head out the window and letting the wind blow over him, no matter how cold the weather. “Lobo, stay.” Brad scratched Lobo’s head.

Brad headed up the sidewalk. Déjà vu washed over him. A few years ago, when they were fighting the Gypsy Jokers and Satan’s Soldiers biker gangs, his TSU team had raided this tattoo parlor. A senior member of the Jokers, Eldredge Hammond, had managed the place. Brad had chased him down in an alley and was about to make the arrest when a police dog raced past and took Hammond to the ground. Roger Kearse, then a CFCN reporter, and his cameraman, caught it all on tape. Brad glanced around. No media here yet.

He jogged past a constable running crime scene tape around the scene and up the front stairs where Steele and Zerr waited.

“This was the Jokers’ place,” Steele said.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about that. I heard someone else runs this now.”

Steele led Brad inside. “This guy must have answered the door.”

Brad surveyed the scene. “Someone he expected or trusted?”

“That someone had skill,” Charlie Zerr said, limping up behind them. Zerr was in the second intake to the Tactical Support Unit and had quickly become friends with Brad and Steele. He was not imposing—five-ten and one hundred and seventy-five pounds. But as a former US Army Ranger, he was the best trained and qualified member of TSU. Now that Brad was a detective, Steele and Zerr were seldom apart.

Zerr pointed to the victim at the doorway. “Up to the heart with one stroke. Precise and deep. His heart probably stopped before he hit the floor.”

“I’ve seen this before,” Brad said. They stepped around the body to the hall.

“It appears they’d expanded beyond tattoos.” Steele pointed to the bedroom. Brad stepped to the doorway.

He whistled. “That tells a story, doesn’t it?”

A male was propped up on the bed against the wall. Dried blood smeared the wall behind his head. Blood soaked the bed sheets between his legs. His eyes were wide, staring ahead. His penis was shoved into his mouth.

The second victim, closest to the door, sat on the floor against the wall. The right side of his jaw and face was missing. His penis hung out from the gaping hole.

The third victim, near the camera, was positioned the same as the others. He was naked from the waist down and blood pooled around his groin. His penis was also stuffed in his mouth.

“This is personal,” Brad said. “Very personal.”

“The camera was still running,” Steele said.

“That might be a clue,” Zerr blurted.

“You think?” Brad replied.

Zerr glanced at the camera. “I mean, well, maybe the killer didn’t know it was running.”

“Everything is too precise,” Brad said. “I doubt the killer made that mistake.”

“We were meant to see the video,” Steele said.

“Possibly,” Brad said. “Maybe it’s the porn, maybe the killing, or even a message to us.”

“What type of message?” Steele asked.

Brad shrugged. “I’m not sure. Message to pimps and pornographers. This is the second homicide scene that involved the sex trade.”

“You think they’re connected?”

“No sense getting ahead of ourselves.