Just as Tanner believed. There was something hidden inside the swirls and circles, yet even his subconscious directing this dream hadn’t figured it out. He winced and jerked…
* * * *
His hands broke free, and Tanner awoke as his body plummeted from the wall it hung on. He hit the floor beside the bed with a thud. Standing, he grimaced and rubbed his ass. Mac didn’t react, saving Tanner from acute embarrassment. He dug out a pair of sweats and slipped them on before leaving the bedroom.
After turning on the light over the dining table, he stood for a second, staring at the carvings. He wished there was a way to get pictures of it from every angle. Maybe he just wasn’t looking at it the right way. Tanner put a teakettle on in the kitchen since he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep.
It was four in the morning, and his mind had decided he needed to be working on the case. Something else bothered him about the killings. Mac had been right. There weren’t any other unsolved crimes like this one in the database, but there were several killings scattered across the Southwest committed by the same person, or so the authorities believed.
They were definitely done by a person with an affinity to knives, but the local LEOs attributed them to drug killings. A drug mule or dealer getting full of himself or skimming off the profits, and the cartel sent in an enforcer to take care of the problem.
Yet none of the crime scene or ME’s reports said anything about a design carved into the victim’s body and a single slice across the throat killed all the victims. He sat down at his laptop and brought up his e-mail. Contacting the investigating officers from the different cases might get him more information or even photos from the scenes. While nothing about the female victims suggested they had anything to do with drugs or the lifestyle, Tanner wasn’t willing to dismiss any possibility. Who was to say the perp in the drug cases hadn’t graduated to being a serial killer?
Drug enforcers were serial killers in their own way. Most of them didn’t have rituals in their violence, but they killed without guilt or fear. Drug killings were often violent and bloody to send a message to anyone thinking about double-crossing the cartels.
He sent out several requests, but it could take a few days to hear back from them. Tanner wandered into the kitchen and made a mug of tea before returning to the photos. Something else bothered him. Why kill them at one place before moving them to another? Why take the risk of being seen at any point during the whole process?
There wasn’t any evidence in the warehouses where the bodies were found to suggest he killed them there. No other rooms in the buildings were found used by anyone other than squatters. Where did he kill them? Was where he killed them part of his ritual or was where he dumped them? Did it even matter? What if the most important part of the whole killing was the carving on their chest and everything else was stupid shit to throw the investigators off the scent?
Tanner gathered all the crime-scene photos, not including the ones of the bodies, and went to curl up on the couch. He’d looked at the actual body photos enough for now. It was time to look at the rest of the room. Maybe something would stand out and he’d be able to add more to his profile.
When he heard movement from his bedroom an hour later, he glanced up to see Mac leaning in the doorway of the living room. One shoulder braced against the wall, Mac wore his pants and nothing else. Tanner licked his lips at the picture of sheer sensuality his lover made, bare-chested and rumpled from sleep.
“How long have you been up?” Mac shuffled over to the couch and dropped on it, picking Tanner’s feet up and laying them in his lap.
Tanner rested his cheek on the back of the couch and studied Mac’s face. “About an hour or so. Had a nightmare and knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon. So I
* * * *
His hands broke free, and Tanner awoke as his body plummeted from the wall it hung on. He hit the floor beside the bed with a thud. Standing, he grimaced and rubbed his ass. Mac didn’t react, saving Tanner from acute embarrassment. He dug out a pair of sweats and slipped them on before leaving the bedroom.
After turning on the light over the dining table, he stood for a second, staring at the carvings. He wished there was a way to get pictures of it from every angle. Maybe he just wasn’t looking at it the right way. Tanner put a teakettle on in the kitchen since he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep.
It was four in the morning, and his mind had decided he needed to be working on the case. Something else bothered him about the killings. Mac had been right. There weren’t any other unsolved crimes like this one in the database, but there were several killings scattered across the Southwest committed by the same person, or so the authorities believed.
They were definitely done by a person with an affinity to knives, but the local LEOs attributed them to drug killings. A drug mule or dealer getting full of himself or skimming off the profits, and the cartel sent in an enforcer to take care of the problem.
Yet none of the crime scene or ME’s reports said anything about a design carved into the victim’s body and a single slice across the throat killed all the victims. He sat down at his laptop and brought up his e-mail. Contacting the investigating officers from the different cases might get him more information or even photos from the scenes. While nothing about the female victims suggested they had anything to do with drugs or the lifestyle, Tanner wasn’t willing to dismiss any possibility. Who was to say the perp in the drug cases hadn’t graduated to being a serial killer?
Drug enforcers were serial killers in their own way. Most of them didn’t have rituals in their violence, but they killed without guilt or fear. Drug killings were often violent and bloody to send a message to anyone thinking about double-crossing the cartels.
He sent out several requests, but it could take a few days to hear back from them. Tanner wandered into the kitchen and made a mug of tea before returning to the photos. Something else bothered him. Why kill them at one place before moving them to another? Why take the risk of being seen at any point during the whole process?
There wasn’t any evidence in the warehouses where the bodies were found to suggest he killed them there. No other rooms in the buildings were found used by anyone other than squatters. Where did he kill them? Was where he killed them part of his ritual or was where he dumped them? Did it even matter? What if the most important part of the whole killing was the carving on their chest and everything else was stupid shit to throw the investigators off the scent?
Tanner gathered all the crime-scene photos, not including the ones of the bodies, and went to curl up on the couch. He’d looked at the actual body photos enough for now. It was time to look at the rest of the room. Maybe something would stand out and he’d be able to add more to his profile.
When he heard movement from his bedroom an hour later, he glanced up to see Mac leaning in the doorway of the living room. One shoulder braced against the wall, Mac wore his pants and nothing else. Tanner licked his lips at the picture of sheer sensuality his lover made, bare-chested and rumpled from sleep.
“How long have you been up?” Mac shuffled over to the couch and dropped on it, picking Tanner’s feet up and laying them in his lap.
Tanner rested his cheek on the back of the couch and studied Mac’s face. “About an hour or so. Had a nightmare and knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon. So I
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