Chapter Ten
Jax arrived at the station on Sunday morning just as the sun was peeking over the Chicago skyline. The early start wasn’t just because he had an urgent need to hunt down the Butcher. He understood that he couldn’t work 24-7 even if Remi was in danger. Nope, he was there at this ungodly hour because of the strange text that had hit his phone at the crack of dawn.
Fortifying himself with a gallon of hot coffee, he drove through the nearly empty streets and pulled into the parking lot. He was still seated in his car, draining the last dregs from his travel mug when there was a sharp knock on his side window.
He jerked his head around to glare at the face outlined in the muted sunlight.
He released an exasperated breath, rolling down the window. Oliver White was a fellow cop who’d worked in the Property and Evidence Unit since Jax graduated from the Academy.
“Shit, Oliver, don’t you know better than to startle a man who’s carrying? Especially when he hasn’t finished his coffee.”
The cop shrugged. He was several inches shorter than Jax and several pounds heavier, with a nearly bald head beneath the hat that went with his uniform. “I wanted to catch you before you went inside.”
Jax waited for his pulse to settle to a steady pace before unhooking his seat belt and shoving open the door of his car. Then, stepping into the frozen morning air, he studied his companion with blatant curiosity.
“This all seems very cloak-and-dagger, Oliver,” he said. “What’s going on?”
The man grimaced, his round face ruddy as he reached beneath his heavy coat to pull out a slender file folder. “Yeah, I’m probably being an idiot, but I wanted to give this to you without anyone knowing.”
Jax reached out to take the folder. “What is it?”
“A file that was found taped under Gage Walsh’s top drawer after he died.”
Jax returned his attention to his companion. Had he misunderstood? “Stuck under his drawer?” he demanded. “Or taped?”
“Taped,” Oliver insisted, glancing around the nearly empty lot before he continued in a low voice. “The janitor was repairing a bent leg on the desk before he put it in storage. Most of the stuff had been cleared out and any personal belongings had been sent to his widow, so when he found this stuck under the drawer, he didn’t know what to do with it. He finally decided to drop it off at the evidence room.”
Jax felt a stirring of unease. “What did you do with it?”
“I put it in a box next to the Butcher files. I assumed it had something to do with the case, but . . .” Oliver gave a vague lift of his hands.
“But what?”
Oliver nodded toward the folder in Jax’s hand. “When I glanced through it, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Like it’s written in code.”
Jax stared down at the file. It sounded like a script from some bad crime show.
A dead detective. A hidden file that could reveal the serial killer, but alas, it’s written in code.
He tried to laugh off his ridiculous imaginings, but the unease continued to bubble in the pit of his stomach.
“We all have our own way of jotting down notes,” he pointed out. “I’m sure some of mine would look like a foreign language to other people.”
Oliver gave a stubborn shake of his head. “I’ve seen a hundred of Gage’s files and they never looked like this. It got me thinking. Why would he write it in such a wacky way? So no one else could read it? Why? And why hide it in a place no one would look?” The words stumbled together, as if he was in a rush to get them out. “Only one answer. Because there was someone he didn’t trust. Someone close.”
Jax suddenly understood why they were meeting in the frigid parking lot. And why Oliver was acting so weird.
The older cop assumed Gage didn’t trust someone in the station. A coworker? A boss? Ash?
No. He instantly squashed the thought. If Gage had any suspicion that Ash was somehow involved, he would have kept Remi far away from her fiancé. Even if that meant locking her in an igloo at the North Pole.
He tucked the file beneath his coat. It was still too dark in the parking lot to read it. Besides, Oliver’s odd behavior was making him itchy. He wanted some privacy before he tried to decipher any code.
“Why give it to me now?” he asked Oliver.
“Gage Walsh stood next to me when I was accused of losing evidence during my first year on the job. And he gave me money when he knew my bitch of an ex-wife had taken me for everything I had. I owe him.” The male jutted his chin, his expression grim. “If the Butcher is really back, he has to be stopped before he can hurt Remi. That’s what Gage would want me to do.”
Jax slowly nodded. “You’re right,” he assured his companion. “And thank you.”
“Just catch the bastard,” Oliver muttered, turning to head toward his car, parked at the far end of the lot.
Jax watched him walk away, briefly considering the possibility that this had been some elaborate setup. What better way to distract him from the case than to send him on some wild-goose chase with a mysterious file supposedly belonging to Gage?
Then he gave a sharp shake of his head. He couldn’t start turning everyone into a suspect. That would only cloud his thoughts and make it impossible to look at the facts with a clear mind.
For now, he would accept what Oliver was telling him was the truth.
Shivering as a blast of air whirled around him, Jax hunched his shoulders and jogged toward the building. Now that he was here, he might as well get some work done.
Once settled at his desk, he tossed aside his coat and opened the mystery file. Usually privacy was as rare as a pygmy three-toed sloth at the station house, but this morning a welcome hush had settled in the air. It wouldn’t last, but he was grateful for an hour or so of peace.
The thought had barely formed when he was interrupted by a text hitting his cell phone. It was from Ash. He wanted to see Jax, but he didn’t want to leave Remi on her own. Jax sent back a text promising to send a patrol car to keep watch on the neighborhood and telling his brother to meet him at the station.
Once he’d arranged for Remi’s protection, he returned his attention to the papers spread in front of him. Oliver had been right. The markings and abbreviations made no sense. At least not to him.
Lost in thought, Jax muttered a curse when he heard approaching footsteps. Swiftly, he was grabbing the pages and shoving them back into the folder.
“Hey, bro.” The familiar voice had Jax releasing a sigh of relief as he watched Ash step around the partition.
A wave of warmth crashed through Jax. God, he’d missed his brother. There’d been something incredibly right about entering the squad room to see Ash at his desk. Or hitting the basketball court to shoot hoops after one of them had a bad day. Or spending the weekend at the lake pretending to fish . . .
He swallowed a sigh. Ash had to do what made him happy. Even if it left an aching void in Jax’s life.
“You’re up early,” Jax said, noting the tense lines of his brother’s face. Clearly, he hadn’t spent a relaxing night in Remi’s arms.
A damned shame.
“Not as early as you.” Ash did his own bit of inspecting, his gaze lingering on the dark circles beneath Jax’s eyes. “Did you get any sleep?”
“Enough.” Jax shrugged away his brother’s concern. “You said you had something for me to see?”
Ash reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded paper bag. He tossed it on Jax’s desk.
“This was shoved under Remi’s front door while we were out yesterday morning.”
Curious, Jax opened the bag and glanced at the torn sheet of paper with a scribbled note on it.
I need to see you.
He glanced back up at Ash. “There’s not much to go on,” he said. “It could have come from anyone.”
Ash nodded. “Yeah. I’m probably overreacting, but I hoped you would run the prints.”
Jax closed the bag and opened a drawer to drop it inside. He was doubtful that the Butcher would start requesting appointments with his potential victims by sticking notes under their doors, but he was willing to grasp at any straw.
“It will take a while, but I’ll get them in the system,” he promised, folding his arms on the desk and leaning forward. “How’s Remi?”
“Scared, but trying to pretend everything is fine.”
“And you?”
“Scared, but trying to pretend everything is fine.”
Jax grimaced. He wished he could tell them not to worry, but he couldn’t. Not when there was a real possibility that the Butcher was back in town, and that he was focused on Remi.
“We’re going to catch the bastard,” he said instead. “I promise.”
Ash nodded. “I caught sight of the patrol car when I left the house,” he said. “Thanks.”
Jax gave a lift of his shoulders. “No problem. Everyone on the force wants to make sure Remi is kept safe.”
“Let them know I appreciate everything they’re doing.”
“I will.” Jax glanced around, making sure there was no one standing close enough to overhear their conversation. “Tell me what happened last night.”
Ash calmly removed his coat, hanging it on the top corner of the partition. “Last night?” He pretended he didn’t know what Jax was asking. “Let’s see. Remi and I ate some Chinese food. We drank some wine. We went through the old files.” He stopped, giving a sudden snap of his fingers. “Oh. I did uncover a new piece of evidence.”
Jax grudgingly allowed himself to be distracted. “What evidence?”
This time it was Ash who carefully ensured there was no one around. “Robert Hutton lied about his alibi the night that Tiffany Holloway was killed.”
“Robert Hutton? The one who works in the district attorney’s office?”
“Yep.”
Jax hissed in shock. Or maybe it was horror. No detective ever wanted to think about a suspect who might create a media frenzy. Politicians. Business leaders. Fellow cops. Members of the clergy. Whether the person was guilty or innocent, it always ended badly for the detective.
“Where did he claim to be?” Jax demanded. He hadn’t gone through the old Butcher files. Not yet.
“Meeting with Remi’s mother at her estate.”
Jax studied his brother’s face, waiting to see if this was some sick joke. “Seriously?” he finally demanded.
Ash nodded. “Which was why we didn’t go any further with the investigation despite the fact he had phone calls from the victim.” He reached for his coat, pulling out a sheet of paper that had been carefully folded and tucked in an inner pocket. He placed it on the desk. “I think he needs a second glance.”
Jax unfolded the paper and quickly skimmed through the short interview. Robert had said he’d spent the evening having dinner with Liza Harding-Walsh at her estate to plan a fancy ball for his charity. He then claimed he drove to his town house at ten o’clock and spent two hours going through case notes for an upcoming trial before he went to bed.
Jax glanced back up at his brother. “No one talked to Remi’s mother?”
“I didn’t.” Ash released a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know about Gage. He never said anything about Hutton after our initial interview.”
Jax made a mental note to go through Gage’s files to see if he had any official interview with his wife. For now, he concentrated on why Ash was convinced the alibi was bogus. “What makes you assume Hutton lied?”
“Remi was sick that night and returned home early from a study group,” Ash said. “Neither her mother nor Hutton were there.”
Jax didn’t ask if Remi was certain it was the same night. It was a question Ash would have asked. “Could they have moved the meeting?”
“Possibly, but I’d like to know why he specifically said he was at the estate the entire evening.”
Jax grimaced. Damn. There was no getting around it. He was going to have to get a new statement from Hutton. “So would I,” he said.
Ash stepped toward the desk. “I want to go with you when you question him.”
Jax snorted. Had his brother lost his mind? “No way.”
Predictably, Ash refused to accept Jax’s refusal. All the Marcel boys were stubborn, but Ash had an extra dose of pigheadedness.
“Look, if you make it an official visit, you’re going to cause a shitstorm,” Ash said with a smooth logic. “If the two of us happen to stop by the country club for a casual drink and run into the man . . .” The younger man shrugged. “He can’t protest.”
“He also won’t be forced to answer our questions,” Jax reminded his brother. “Plus, if he does become a suspect, he’ll have ample opportunity to create a new lie to cover his ass before I can haul him into the station.”
“He’s going to lawyer up anyway,” Ash insisted. “If we approach him casually, we can catch him off guard. He’ll be more likely to give something away.”
Jax swallowed a frustrated sigh. His brother could be a pain in the ass, but he was also making a good point. The second Hutton sensed his alibi had fallen apart he would have the full power of the district attorney’s office behind him. Any investigation would come to a screeching halt.
“I’ll think about it,” he hedged, not prepared to give Ash any promises. Then, he deliberately changed the conversation. “Now answer my question.”
Ash pretended to be puzzled. “What question?”
“What did you do last night?” He stabbed a finger toward his aggravating sibling. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
Ash chuckled, then his smile slowly faded. As if the memories from the previous night were creeping back into his thoughts. “I made a brief visit to speak with Doug,” he admitted.
“Shit. I knew it.” Jax clenched his hands into tight fists. He’d debated about passing along the information he’d discovered. He’d wanted them to know that Doug Gates had a history of violence, but Ash was always overprotective when it came to Remi. Right now, he was in extreme vigilante mode. Any hint of a threat to his onetime fiancée was bound to send him over the edge. “Is he pressing charges?”
“Not unless he wants to explain the telescope he was using to spy on Remi,” Ash growled.
Doug Gates was spying on Remi? Jax carefully planted his palms flat on his desk. It was his way of ensuring he didn’t grab for his gun.
“Bastard,” he breathed. “Do I need to get an arrest warrant?”
Ash shook his head, his expression grim. “I’ve taken care of it for now.”
Uh-oh. “Is he dead?” Jax demanded.
“No, but he will be if I catch him anywhere around Remi,” Ash said without hesitation.
Jax quashed his instinct to have the perv hauled to the station. As much as he wanted to beat the crap out of Doug Gates, Ash could handle the creepy neighbor. It was Jax’s duty to find the Butcher. “Do you think he’s a suspect?”
“Not really.” Ash gave a shake of his head, frustration clearly etched on his face. “But I can’t rule him out either.”
“Then we keep him on the list of suspects and continue searching for evidence.”
“While Remi stays in danger.”
“She has a lot of people looking out for her,” Jax reminded his brother, knowing the words were empty. Nothing would comfort Ash. Not until the Butcher was behind bars. Or dead.
Ash paused, visibly struggling to regain command of his temper. “Have you found anything in the old files?” he at last asked.
Jax grimaced. “I’m not sure.”
“That’s less than helpful,” Ash said in dry tones.
Jax reached to angle the computer screen on his desk. “Grab a seat. I have something I want to show you.”
“Okay.” Ash found an extra chair pushed against the nearby wall and placed it next to Jax. “What’s going on?”
Jax tapped on the keyboard. “I couldn’t find any cases that fit the MO of the Butcher.”
Ash muttered a curse under his breath. “But?”
“But I used one of our new search programs.” Jax brought up the files he’d found. “They can comb through thousands of files for patterns. First, I looked for anyone who’d been killed by having their throats cut, both male and female. Then I expanded the search to other cities. I couldn’t find anything. Finally I put in the physical characteristics of the Butcher’s prime targets and searched for any deaths in the past five years. I got a few hits.”
Ash leaned forward. “Show me.”
“The first victim I found is Carla Tester.” Jax enlarged the picture of the pretty, dark-haired woman with a plump face and bright smile. “Twenty-four years old. She worked for the Chicago Transit Authority and died four years ago.” Jax brought up the next photo. Once again, the female was dark-haired with pretty features. This one had green eyes and a few freckles sprinkled over her pale skin. “Beth Sampson. Eighteen. She was in her freshman year of college. She died three years ago.” Jax pulled up the last picture. The female was older than the others, but she had dark hair and greenish-blue eyes. “Ariel Midland. She was twenty-seven and a hairdresser. She died last year.”
Ash sent him a furious glare. “Why didn’t anyone tag them with the Butcher killings?”
That had been Jax’s first question. The women fit the profile. At least when it came to the physical description of the Butcher’s victims.
Then he’d studied the complete records and understood why any connection to the Butcher had been missed.
“Each of the women burned to death in a house fire,” he said. “There was no reason to think there was foul play in any of their deaths.”
“Three separate house fires?” Ash snorted. “And that didn’t raise any questions?”
“They were all at least a year apart,” Jax reminded him.
“None of the victims had their throats slit?”
“The bodies were all badly burned and I don’t think they did more than a superficial exam. It was assumed they were tragic accidents, not victims of a serial killer.”
“Damn.” Ash sat back, obviously trying to process the new information. “I don’t suppose you can get the bodies exhumed? If we could discover the exact cause of death, and if they had the telltale mark on their breast, we could be certain they were the work of the Butcher.”
Jax made a sound of disgust. His brother had obviously been gone from the department too long.
“Are you kidding? I’d need a lot more than a hunch to get the money or a warrant to have the bodies dug up.”
“Are you going to investigate them?”
“Yes.” Jax held up a hand as Ash’s lips parted, no doubt intending to remind him that Remi’s life was in danger. “I promise.”
Ash sent him a rueful smile. “Thanks. Was there anything else?”
“No.” About to send Ash back to Remi, Jax abruptly recalled the reason he was at the office before any reasonable person should be up on a Sunday morning. “Wait.” He reached for the folder he’d shoved toward the back of his desk. “This file was found taped under a drawer in Gage’s desk after his death.”
“Taped?” Ash frowned in confusion, and Jax felt a stab of disappointment. He’d hoped his brother might have some idea why Gage had it hidden, and what the strange markings might mean.
Ash reached to grab the file. “What is it?”
“Hell if I know.”
The younger man spread out the papers, his frown deepening as he glanced over the scribbled notes. “It looks like it’s written in gibberish.”
“None of his other files match this?” Jax pressed.
“No.” Ash reached for a map of Chicago that had been photocopied. He pointed toward one of the red circles that had presumably been placed there by Gage. “Those mark where the bodies were found,” he said, his fingers moving to the numbers written next to the circle. “And the dates.”
Jax had managed to work out that much. He reached for the map and turned it over to reveal the numbers that were penciled on the back. “This is a list of dates as well.” He grabbed a second sheet of paper where he’d made his own notes. He touched the first column of numbers. “Some match the nights of the murders.” He moved his finger toward the second column. “But not all of them.”
Ash studied the list in silence, then he gave a shake of his head. He reached to shuffle through the remaining papers.
“Everything is in initials,” Ash muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “There’s no way to know what they mean.”
“Could be names of suspects,” Jax suggested. “Or maybe places?”
Ash shoved the papers back in the folder and rose to his feet. “I’ll go back through the notes I pulled out of storage to see if I can find anything that might give us a clue about these.”
Jax nodded. If Gage had wanted the folder to be a part of the official investigation, he wouldn’t have hidden it in his desk. “You’ll let me know?”
“Yeah.”
Ash reached for his coat and Jax leaned back in his seat, once again feeling a surge of satisfaction. He hated the reason that his brother was back in town, but he was going to enjoy his company while he was there. “Mom said you stopped by,” Jax said.
“I did my duty.” Ash slid on his coat, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. “As commanded.”
Jax smiled. Ash was like all the Marcel boys. He adored his mother.
“Did she offer you the fatted calf?”
Amusement sparkled in Ash’s eyes. “No, but I did get my favorite lasagna and a slice of her homemade chocolate cake with hot caramel dribbled over the top.”
Jax rolled his eyes. “Spoiled.”
“No way,” Ash protested. “Nate was spoiled. You were the favorite, and the rest of us were just the forgotten middle.”
Jax snorted. They’d all been loved. Perhaps he was closer to their father than the rest of them, but only because the older man had been eager to get away from a pack of screaming babies and the only way was to take Jax to a ball game or camping for the weekend.
“Speaking of Nate, did Mom tell you he’s coming home next week?” Jax said.
“Yes. I’ve also been ordered to be fitted for my tux before I leave town.”
Jax grimaced. No one was happier for Nate than he was. He hadn’t met his youngest brother’s fiancée, but she sounded perfect for Nate. Still, the thought of being trapped for hours in a formal tux that included a bow tie and one of those stupid cummerbunds was enough to give him a rash.
“Christ. I need to do that too. I keep putting it off in the hopes that Nate will come to his senses and decide to elope,” he muttered.
“I don’t think it’s Nate’s decision,” Ash said dryly.
“No, I suppose not.” Jax heaved a glum sigh.
Ash reached out to pat his shoulder. “I need to get back to Remi.”
Jax nodded. “Stay safe.”