Chapter Six
A slim woman in uniform with her dark hair pulled back into a severe bun stopped next to Detective Steve Pierce's desk. "Got some messages for you, Detective," she said, holding out a few pink pieces of paper. Pierceglanced up."Thanks, Branson. I'mputtinginanother work order on that voice mail," he promised her.
"Sure thing, sir. It's no problem, unless we're booking," she answered before taking herself back to the front counter across the large squad room.
Detective SteveHolleman glanced upathispartner fromacrosstheir connected desksandraisedaneyebrow athim.Pierceleanedbackinthe creaky chair and flipped through the pink slips. He scowled at one in particular and stared at it hatefully.
"Care to share?" Holleman finally prodded.
"GoddamnFeebsagain,"Piercemuttered,tossingthepinkslipson his desk. "About the serial."
"What else isnew?" Holleman muttered ashewent back tothe report he was filling out.
"It's from thatHenninger guy.There's anew teamhere," Piercesaid, pickinguphiscoffeewithonehandandspinninghiscomputermousewith the other to wake up the monitor.
"Well, yeah," Holleman huffed asifthat should beobvious. "The last ones got themselveskilled."
Pierceslantedadispleased lookathispartner, butdidn'ttellhimoff. "I still think they need to check their own house."
"Tell them that. Shit, one of those guys almost went nuclear when one of the uniforms mentionedthat at the last crime scene."
"Yeah, Iknow. We'd probably react the same way, though. I just hate thattheycanmarchinanddowhateverthehelltheywant.That'swhythis thinghasn'tbeensolvedyet.Toomanyfingersinthepot,screwingwiththe soup."
Holleman plunked hispendownandlooked upathispartner witha frown. "You're notstarting withthefoodanalogies again,areyou?"heasked flatly.
Pierce rolled hiseyes. "They got too manypeople dealing with the details, fucking uptheevidence, andthentheywonder whythecaseisso screwed. Then,ofcourse, theycallusandexpect ustosnapto.I'mthinking this time, they can wait."
"Yeah, thatwon't pissthem off,"Holleman mutteredashepicked up his pen again. "Whatever.I've got too much shit to do as it is."
"I'll call them tomorrowmorning.You got that paperworkfrom Trenton?"
"Somewhere," Holleman answereddistractedly. "Yougotthat statementfromthechickwhodidn'tlikebuttoning hershirt?"heaskedashe looked back up.
"Yeah, inthatstack." Pierce pointed tothecorner ofhisdesk. "Singletonput a photo in there too, of course."
Holleman rifled through the stack until he found the folder. He plucked itoutofthestackandlooked atitwithasmirk. Turning itaround to show Pierce, he laughed softly and said, "Think we got any of her face?"
Pierceglanced overanddidadouble take."Aw,shit.Singleton's gonna gethisassinasling." Herubbed hishands over hiseyes. "The cases keep getting weirder, and then that damn serial pops up again." He sighed and looked up to gaze across the two desks at his partner.
Holleman's tonguewashangingoutofhismouthagain,stucktothe side like italways did when he was deep in thought. "Wanna go get food?" he finally asked after ponderingthe universe for a time.
IttookamomentforPiercetoblinkhimselfoutofhisstare."Ah, yeah. Sure. I could use more coffee."
"Then wecancallback those clowns andgetitover with," Holleman muttered as he stood and pushed away from the desk.
Piercefollowed Holleman outoftheoffice,grumbling tohimself disconsolatelythe whole way.
Tyslid carefully out ofthebed and padded around theroom, cleaning upand getting dressed almost silently. He risked a few glances at his bedmate and his frowndeepened everytimehedidso.Whatthehellhadtheybeenthinking? Theyhadn'tstoppedwithjustonetry.Hoursafterfallingasleepineach other'sarms,theyhadawakened againandgoneatitwithout anythoughtto theconsequences. Tyhadtakenhisturn,givingasgoodashe'dgottenfrom Zane. At least they'd both be sore as hell today.
Tyshook hisheadandwenttothewindow, glancing outatthelight rain.Hisentirebodyached,andnotaltogetheringoodways.Hefrowned even harder as he stood there, waiting for Zane to wake.
Thebedgrowing coolpushed Zanefrom hissleepandheslowly shiftedunderthesheet.Hemadeasoftsounddeepinhisthroatwhenhe rolledcarefully ontohisback.Itwasn't justhisbackthathurt.Heopened his eyestofocusontheceilingbeforeturninghiseyestotheotherbed.Empty. Heturned hischinandsawTystanding atthewindow. Helooked tiredand tense.Zanestifledasigh.Heknewheshouldhaveexpected something like that.
Tyglancedoverhisshoulderwhenheheardtherustlingandhe cleared his throat. "Hey," he offered lamely.
Zaneraisedhisuninjured handtorubathiseyes."Whattimeisit? How long did we sleep?"
"It'snine thirty,"Tyansweredwithoutglancingathiswatchorthe clock.Helookedawayfrom Zaneandbackoutthewindow. "Howyou feelin'?" he asked as he stared at the rain coming down.
"Groggy,"Zanesaid,hisvoicestillthickandwarmfromsleep.He ranhishandoverhishairandyawned,consideringturningoverandgoing back to sleep.
Tylowered hisheadandconsidered theprosandconsofadmitting howfuckingsorehewas.Everywhere. Itmightgotoeasingsomeofthe awkwardness anyway."Myasshurts,"hefinallyadmittedwithasmall,wry smile.
Zanereopened hiseyestolookattheotherman.Hehadnoideahow torespondtothat,sohejustlookedathim.Tyshruggedlopsidedlywhen Zane didn't respond. The cellphone athis hip began tosing, saving him from having tosayanything further. Heanswered itwithaclippedmurmur after looking at the number.
OnceTywasdistracted, Zanelethiseyesslidedownthewiry,half-clothed body. Ty's ass hurt. Zane's lips twitched. Not agood idea to laugh, he wassure. Butdamn ...what aboost totheego. Hepushed awaythesheet and got out of the bed.
Heliftedhisarmsslowlyandstartedtolengthen hisbodyinalong stretch. Hebobbed hisheadfrom sidetoside,andbonespopped. Herelished thestretchforamomentbeforeheadingovertohisduffelanddiggingfor clothes.
Tywatched him,listeningdistractedly tothemanonthephoneashe did so. He realized with some annoyance that he was pondering the advantagesofjumpinghispartneragain.Finally,helookedawayandshook hishead.Whenhespoke intothephoneafteralongtimeofjustlistening, it wasn't in English.
Zane glanced over when the lyrical language poured out in Ty's raspy voice.Hedidn'tknowwhichlanguage itwas,butsomething MiddleEastern; ithadthatsound. Maybe Farsi.Much moremelodic thanZane's ownrapid-fire Spanish. The sound of it didn't seem to fit Ty's voice—or him—at all.
Theconversation didn'tlastlong,andTybidthemanfarewellsoftly before ending thecallandclipping thephone backonto hisbelt.Heturned aroundandlookedatZanethoughtfully. "Youfeeluptoalittletrekking today?" heasked, not even pretending totryand explain who hadbeen onthe phone.
"Sure," Zaneanswered, shrugging offanycuriosity. "Moving around willkeep myback from getting toostiff." Before hethought better ofit,Zane glanced toTy,then down toTy's ass,then back uptoTy's eyes.Tyraised an eyebrowandsneeredathim.Zanebitbackthesmileandpickeduphis clothes. "What doyouhaveinmind?" heasked ashewalked toward the bathroom.
"Iwanttogoseeabodydump,"Tycalledinanswer,tellinghimself to let it go. He had offered the information, after all. He knew he risked a little razzingforit.Perhapshehadbeenlookingforasincereresponse,something to build up a little trust, instead of what he had gotten. Oh, well.
"AreyougoingtocallMorrison orHenninger tosetitup?Orarewe stillsteeringclearoftheofficefornow?"Zanegotintothebathroomand couldn't holdbackthegrinanylonger. Thenheshookhisheadandstarted cleaning himself up to go.
"None ofthemarestillcordoned off,sowecanjustgo.Ijustneedto seethem," Tyanswered asheturnedbacktothewindow andfrowned athis watery reflection.
Zanestepped around thecorner andwatched Tyforalongmoment. When hespoke, hisvoicewaslowerandquieter. Moreserious. "Crunching profiles?"
Tycocked hisheadtothesideandcracked hisneck withagrimace. "Yeah," he admitted. "I just need to see why he left them where he did."
Considering that response, Zane looked up atthe photos tacked on the wall.Hehadn't thought aboutwhythebodies wereleftastheywere."Well, getmoving, Marine. We've gotwork todo." Hisvoice wasstillquiet, despite the words.
Ty turned around and huffed at him again. "It's raining," he informed themanashepicked uptheT-shirt hehadpulled outtowear. Itwasawhite camp-style T-shirt withabrown teepee onthefront, surrounded bythewords Camp Runamuck.
ZanecockedhisheadtoonesideasTypulleditoverhishead. "Where do you get these shirts?"
"What do you mean?" Ty asked innocently.
Zanechuckled. "AMarineatCampRunamuck. Hysterical," he murmuredas he started loading up his pockets.
Ty looked down at his chest and smiled slightly. "My former brothers-in-armssend them to me," he answered."I get a new one about every two or three months."
"OnceaMarine,alwaysaMarine,"Zanequotedashepulledona light jacket.
"I loved being a Marine," Ty respondeddefensively.
Zanelooked athimevenly, seeingthebottom ofTy'stattoopeeking out from under a shirtsleeve."You still are a Marine," he said.
Tystoppedhismovements andcockedhisheadatZane,tryingto decide whether he was serious or just humoringhim.
"Mybrother-in-law's aMarine,"Zanesaid."Healwayssaidyou're one for life." He waited for Ty's response.
Ty's eyes darted over Zane thoughtfully. "He was right," he murmuredfinally before looking away and grabbing his leather jacket.
Zane kept his eyes on him for afew moments longer before turning to pick up his gun, check it, and slide it into its holster. "Ready?"
Tymerelynoddedasheslidhiswalletintohisbackpocketand looked up. His oddly colored eyes met Zane's dark ones. A thousand things to saywentthroughTy'smind,andheevenopenedhismouthtospeak.He lickedhislipsandloweredhisheadbeforehecould,though,andhegestured to the door to cover his discomfort.
AlthoughZanewasfascinatedbyTy'sbehavior,hemadehimself turnandwalk. Maybe itwasjustthatTyhadtowork himself uptobesucha bastard.Sincehe'djusthadafewroundsofstressreliefandanight'ssleep, hewascalm.Zanesighed andopened thedoorfortheotherman,wishing he knewhowtobuildaprofile.He'dbetgoodmoneyTy'swouldresemblea Rorschach.
Tyslidhishandsintohispockets andkepthisheaddown asthey walked totheelevators. He'dlostcontrol withZane,andhecouldn't seem to cometotermswithwhathe'dlethappen.Notonlyhadtheyfucked,butTy hadletZanefuckhim.He'dgivenupeveryounceofcontroltoamanhe barely liked. And Ty had enjoyed it immensely.
Zanestabbed theelevator button andwaited, Tysilentandnearly brooding alongside him.Theybothhadplentytothinkabout. AtleastZane did,andheresistedtheurgetolookoveratTytotrytoreadhisface.He watchedtheelevatornumbers change,approaching theirfloor."Ty,"hesaid quietly.
Ty glanced at him and frowned slightly.
"Myasshurtstoo,"Zaneadmittedquietlyasthedoorsopenedto other people.
Tylooked from Zanetotheseveral people intheelevator andbithis lipagainst asmile.Whether theyhadheardhim washardtotell,butjustthe factthatZanehadsaiditliftedalittlebitofweight fromTy'sshoulders. He couldn't fucksomeone without asenseofhumor. Itjustdidn't sitrightwith him.Heclearedhisthroat,tryingnottolaughastheyenteredtheelevator. "Okay," was all he managed to say in response.
They saidnothing more astheyrode down tothelobby andwent outsidetohailacab.Itwasn'tnecessarilyacomfortable silence.Morelikea temporary truce.
Thetaxidropped them offatthemassive CivilWar–era gatethat markedthemainentrancetoGreen-WoodCemetery.Therainhadlessened some,butithadbrought withitachillthatatethrough theirclothing and nipped attheirbareskin.Tyshoved hishands intohispockets andpeered up through thefallingrainatthestonework withsomething likereverence. He could already see the appeal of the location as a drop spot.
Zane stood several feet away, looking around. The weather was perfectforthelocation—coolanddreary,addingtotheinherentquietand sadnessinthegraveyard.Butitdidn'ttakeawayfromthestrangebeautyof theplace. Hestudied the huge archway withsomeinterest andappreciation before looking to Ty.
Tywasstilllookingupwhenhespoke."Hookerwasfoundwrapped inhersheetatoneofthetombs," hetoldZanequietly. "No teeth, otherwise untouched."
The other agent's eyes turned toward the monuments that stood furtherintothegraveyard,pastthedarkeninggrassandburntamberleaves thatcontrasted sharplywiththedirtymarblestones.Something insideZane begantoachealittle,andhefrowned slightly, shoving hishandsintohis pockets.
Tyglancedoverathimwhenhedidn'trespond."Youokay?"he asked with a frown.
Zane's eyesflickered, buthenodded rightaway. "Yeah," hesaid quietly. He could feel the weight of the place settling around him. He imagined Tydidtoo.Theambiance wastoomajesticnottofeelandfeel deeply. "Lead on."
Tywatchedhimforamomentandthennodded,bowinghisheadin therainasheheaded forthegate.Burialgrounds hadalways spoken toTyin awaynotmanythings did.Thisoneinparticular wasabeautiful one.Itwas speakingtohimtoo,tellinghimabouttheirkillerashewalkedoverthe sodden grass toward the older tombstones.
Zanefollowed along behind him,eyesdown. Theywalked insilence astheraincontinuedtopatterthroughthetreesabovethem.Thesoaked groundwascoveredwithyellowleaves,obscuring gravemarkersinplaces, highlightingtheminothers.Tystoppedunderoneofthetreesandlooked aroundattheagingstoneinappreciation. Hedrewasheetofpaperfromhis pocket and studied it for a moment, then looked up into the distance, frowning.
WhenTypaused,Zanealmostranintohim.Hewastoobusytaking intheyardaround them;thewidevariety ofstones, thethoughts behindthe monuments.Itwasverydifferenthere...differentfromwhathe'dexpected.
Thefallweather hadturnedthetreesintobrilliant colors, painting anormally drearylocationwithstreaksoflife.Itwasanodddichotomythatmadehis chest ache even more.
Tyfinallydeterminedthattheywereinrelativelytherightspot,and he folded the paper and slid it back into his pocket. "This is it," he murmured.
Theystood onthepath thatwound through theyard,nearasetof family tombs, alllinedupinneatlyhewn squares. Zanedidn't sayanything. Instead, hewaited toseewhatinsights Tymight have. Thissideofthesearch wasn'tsomething Zanehadmuchexperience with;hewastrainedtofollow papertrailsanddetails,notpickotherpeople'sthoughtsandmotivationsout of thin air.
Tywassilent asZanewaited, walking around thesiteslowly with his headdown. Itwasanentirely different sideofhim;acalm,collectedonethat seemedtotallyatoddswithhisusualabrasiveness. Zanecouldnolongertell which side of him was the real one.
"Thishasareverence toit,"Tyfinallymurmured curiously after almost ten minutes of silence and pondering. "Almost... romantic. There were notireormachinemarksanywhere,meaninghecarriedherherefromthe entrance." Helooked backthewaytheyhadcome.Itwasalongwaytowalk withaheavyburdeninyourarms.HelookedbackatZaneandfrowned. "It feelsold.Antiquated," hewentoninavoicethatsoundedslightlyconfused. "Likesomething thekillersawinamovieorreadinabookandwantedto reenact."
Zane had heard him, but it didn't really sink in at first. As he'd looked aroundthesetting,turning hisbacktothemonuments tolookbackoutatthe yard,agravecovered withstacksoffreshflowershadsnared hisattention. It wasimpossible nottodrawparallels tohislasttimeinagraveyard. Several heartbeats afterTy'swords,Zaneshookhimself. "Yeah,yeahitdoes,"he agreed quietly.
"None oftheothers seemed tobelikethat.Leftintheirown beds, dumpedinrandomplaces,"Tymurmured,talkingmoretohimselfthanto Zane."Whywasthisonespecial?Wasitevenspecialatalloristhatjust another different element we have to add to this particular murder?"
Blinkingafewtimes,Zanepulledhisattentionbacktohispartner. "I'mnotsureI'dsayitwasspecial.Wedon'tevenknowifshewaskilled here or if she was moved here."
Tyglancedaroundthegraveyard,tryingtoletthesettingspeakto him."No,"hemurmured."Shewasn'tkilledhere,"hedeclared,thoughhe didn'tknowwhatmadehimthinkthat."Butshewaslefthereforareason, I'm sure of it."
"Itwouldtrackthenthatallofthemwereleftwheretheywere... as theywere...forareason," Zaneadded, shifting hisweight andtaking several steps along the path before turning to look around them again.
"Notnecessarily," Tyarguedstubbornly. "Youyourselfsaidthatthe patternisinthemethod. Whatifpartofthemethodistheplacement ofthe bodyinonecase,butnotinanother?Whatifitmatteredmorewherethis bodywasleftthanhowshewaskilled,butitmattered more thatanother was killed in a certain way and not where they were left?"
Zane's lips twitched. "You know, Iactually understood that," he said, shaking hishead. Hetookadeepbreath andletitoutslowly. "Iguess we'll have to figure it out both ways until we get a lead," he offered.
Tysneeredathimandlookedaway,pursinghislipsthoughtfullyas he stared through the rain. It was coming down harder, sliding down the collar ofhisjacketandmakinghimshiver.Hehaddefinitelylivedthroughworse, but it was still uncomfortable.
ThestartoftheraingaveZaneachill,andhisattention wasdrawn backtothegraves. Hewatched theraindrops plopontoabarepatchofdirt, darkeningitdripbydrip.Rivuletsdappledthecoloredflowersthatwere placedalongsomeofthegravestones, andZane'sgazewentsoftand unfocused.Rainonflowers.Wetdirt.Theacheswelledandhecouldn't ignore the memories any longer.
Tyturned backtosaymore andcaught thelookonZane's face.He snapped hismouth shutandfrowned. "Areyouokay?" heaskedagainwitha hint of annoyance.
Theothermandidn'tacknowledge him.Hewasstanding inthesame place. Hehadn't turned his head; itdidn't even look like he'dtaken abreath. His eyes were lowered and looking out at something indefinable.
"Garrett!" Ty barked loudly.
Afewmoresilentmoments passedbefore Zanelooked upatTy deliberately. Hisfacewasnowsetintheemotionless maskhe'dnotwornfor acouple days, and hiseyeswere dry. Butthelight inthem was gone, andhis gaze was empty.
"Whatthehell,man?"Tyquestioned inannoyance. "Areyouokay?" he repeated.
"Have youfound what you were looking for?" Zane asked. Hisvoice was brittle, but he didn't look away from Ty.
Ty'sbrowfurrowed inconfusion andhecocked hishead.Helooked around thecemetery, knowing hecould spendtheentiredrearydaythereand stillnotfind what hewaslooking for.ButitwasnouseifZanewasgoing to go all wonky on him. "Sure," he finally answered."Let's go."
Zane turned smartly on his heel and started walking.
Tyremained where hewasforamoment andwatched himin confusion. Finally, he bent and picked up one of the perfect yellow leaves and slid it into his pocket, then followed after his partner slowly.
The long, even strides didn't stop until Zane was through thegate and back out at the street, flagging down a cab. The first one kept going, and so he keptasharpeyeout.Hestillfeltill.Ithadcomeoutofnowhere,thespecter of memories five years old that he'd thought were just as buried as his wife.
Tyjogged tocatchuptohimasasecond cabstopped atZane's summons.Theyclimbedinandshookoffthewater,andTygavethedriver the name oftheir hotel. He had hoped toseemore ofthescenes, but hewould rather do it alone than like this.
Fiveminutes intotheride, Zane finallyclosed hiseyesandrelaxed a little.Hepropped hiselbow against thewindow and rubbed hiseyes.God,he hatedmemories sometimes. Theybroughtbacknightmares hedidn'twant. Frankly, hedidn'twantthegood orthebad,because thegoodwereeven worse. He knew Tywanted toknow what was going on, butZane wasn't sure he could even spit out the words.
"Wheneveryou're ready, man," Ty prodded irritably.
Zane slanted anequally annoyed glance Ty's way. "Badmemories, okay?" he muttered.
Tyglaredathimfromhissideofthecabforamomentandthen lookedawaywithalongsigh.Obviouslytherewasmoretoitthanthat,and Tyfoundhimself annoyed thatheevengaveadamn.Hewouldn't askagain, though.
After another long silence, Zane gave aquiet sigh. "Becky died this time of year," Zane said quietly. "Weather's about the same. Fancy graveyard."He shrugged.
"Who is Becky?" Ty asked in exasperation.
Zane kept his eyes focused out the window. "My wife."
Ty stared at him for a long moment, eyes drifting down to the weddingringZanestillworebutthey'dnevertalkedabout,thenhelooked away without commenting. He pressed his lips together tightly as they rode in silence. "I'm sorry," he finally offered.
Nodding slowly, Zane finally said, "Thanks." It was almost inaudible. Tydidn'trespond.Hisimmediatereactionwastopointoutthatif Zanehadafucking problem withgraveyards heshould havesaidsomething insteadofwastingtheirtimebyzoningoutinthere.Hewouldhavebeen better offleaving Zane atthegateandtaking histime.Adayagohewould have saiditoutloud, butnowheheldhistongue. Itwasanaction hewasn't accustomed toorcomfortable with.Forcinghimselfnottosayanythingtoo harsh to the man fueled the resentmentTy felt building.
A few minutes passed. "Need to go back?" Zane asked neutrally.
Tywatchedthearchitecturepassbyandsighedinaudibly."We'll see," he finally answered curtly.
Zane turned off the portion of himself that felt bad that he'd apparently messedwithTy'swork.Itjustdidn'tcompare tothethoughts and dreamsanddyinglightsthatswirledthroughhismind.He'dneedsometime to clear those cobwebs away. Then he could get back to work.
The rest of the taxi ride passed in tense silence.