Simon Says_. Walk (Kate Morgan #6)(33)
Author: Dale Mayer

 

“So you want to fill me in on what you did after leaving the crime site?” Rodney asked her.

 

“I got back from speaking with the wife of the second victim,” she began, “and we’re still waiting for forensics. I did ask Smidge if he could move up this second case because it looks to be connected to the earlier one of mine.” She heard Rodney snort. She nodded. “I definitely got the impression that Smidge wasn’t happy with me, but I think it was more a case of he’s not happy about the fact that there’s a chance of a serial killer on the loose,” she murmured.

 

Rodney nodded. “Let’s go over what we’ve got so far,” He pulled his chair out right away. “You’re the only one who could push Smidge anyway. If one of us asked, he’d get his back up, and our cases would be last,” he muttered.

 

She shrugged. “Generally he and I get along well.”

 

“Which is a surprise because, as a rule, he doesn’t get along with anybody.”

 

She ignored that and didn’t even have time to contemplate such a relationship because, as long as Smidge was the coroner, she would do everything she needed to do to ensure that her cases, her victims, got as close to special priority as she could get them. It’s not that anybody else’s cases weren’t just as important, but they weren’t hers.

 

“When I mentioned that this latest death was connected, Smidge definitely got quite upset.” Then Kate snorted. “Even he noted that my cases were special.”

 

“Of course. The thought of a serial killer is enough to give all of us the heebie-jeebies.”

 

“What is it, four to make a serial killer?” He shrugged in response, and she nodded. “So what are the chances that we haven’t found other victims yet?”

 

At that, Rodney twisted in his chair and stared at her. “Why would you even bring that up?” he asked in mock horror. “You’ll jinx us.”

 

“Because it appears to me that it’s quite possible that somebody who’s done what this killer has done, and, as covertly as he’s done it, might have had some practice.”

 

He sucked in his breath, as he sat here. “So when you say practice …”

 

She nodded. “Practice. As in maybe he killed before. Maybe he’s tortured before. Maybe he’s been acting out this scenario before,” she suggested, getting more and more animated and excited. “We need to go through cold cases, and I …” She winced. “I am getting ahead of myself. … I don’t know if we would be looking local or not.” She stared at Rodney, as he gave her the same wondrous looks she often got from him. “What are the chances that this guy has tortured other people or gotten to the point where maybe torture is even a euphemism for what he’s doing.”

 

“Okay, but, if he’s a sadist, and he’s had, up until now, some basic relationships that have functioned on the surface, we won’t have any knowledge of that.”

 

“Right, I know,” she accepted, with a sigh. “Wouldn’t it be something if we had a big mass registry of every psycho out there?”

 

He snorted. “Yeah, let me know how that works for you. All those privacy laws would have a heyday with that.”

 

“I know. Until it’s their family who’s been tortured and killed,” she added.

 

“I will start a run and see if we can come up with any cases that in any way trigger something such as this.” Rodney then started typing into the database.

 

“I’m not saying that there’ll be something quite on target, except maybe with the feet torn to ribbons,” she pointed out. “Just that maybe he’s been utilizing some of his style, techniques, and torture patterns, in order to get to where he is today. Like maybe testing on animals before he graduated to people.”

 

“Oh, I hear you. Can’t say I like it, but I do understand what you’re asking.”

 

She laughed. “Yeah, I know, and it’s sick and it sucks, but …”

 

“I’ll get Reese in on it too,” he suggested.

 

“If she’s got time for us,” Kate reminded him. “The other departments use our analyst as well.”

 

Rodney winced. “Right. I’ll check her availability. We could sure use her because she can do a much wider and deeper search than I can.”

 

And, with that, they both returned to their desks and their respective work to hopefully make progress, before another victim showed up on their doorstep.

 

*

 

By the time he dragged his sorry ass back to his apartment, Simon was dead exhausted and mentally stressed at the thought of people dying because of him.

 

What kind of sick fuck out there in this world would do that? Why would the killer blame a complete stranger for some injury Simon had supposedly inflicted on the killer himself? Every time Simon got out into this world, it seemed to him that it was way more messed up than ever, and it sucked. It truly did.

 

As he walked inside his apartment building, he looked over at his doorman, trailing him quite closely.

 

“Ooh, ouch, tough day?”

 

Simon winced and nodded. “Yep, sure was. Not sure the night will get any better either. Calls for a liquid dinner,” he muttered, as he headed toward the special elevator, designated for his penthouse suite.

 

His doorman raced behind him. “No, no, no, no, not a liquid dinner.” He raised his hands. “You need food, a shower, and a chance to recuperate from whatever has happened.”

 

He nodded slowly. “I haven’t even managed to go grocery shopping yet.”

 

“I’ll order something in and send it up to you, sir,” Harry offered immediately, smiling brightly at Simon. “Hey, sometimes we all need somebody to help us out.” He took a moment and then shrugged. “You’ve always been good to me, and right now you need somebody to be good to you.”

 

There wasn’t a whole lot Simon could say, but it certainly warmed his heart. He nodded. “I could really do with some pasta.”

 

“It’ll be on its way shortly. You go on up and get that shower. I’ll try to get it here by the time you’re done.”

 

“Ha. That would make you a miracle worker.”

 

Harry laughed. “Hey, don’t doubt it.” With that, he walked back to the reception desk and picked up the phone. Simon was too tired to even care if he got dinner or not. He doubted he’d eat it, but he probably should. And Harry was right; this wasn’t exactly the time for nothing but liquid sustenance. Still, every once in a while, your soul was so damn weary of life that it seemed to be the better option—even if it wasn’t.