Chapter 14

14

Chief Cox

Against the desperate pull of air tugging at his lungs, Cox climbed the staircase to the third floor of the Pantheon Motel. He eyed a tall, slim blond, computer tablet in hand, standing just outside the room that spilled over with forensics and investigators.

Jim Riley represented the cybercrime unit at the FBI—one of those middle-aged hippie types who undoubtedly tucked a bowl under his pillow at night so he could light up first thing in the morning like a true fucking pothead. Unlike the stereotypical FBI agents, who wore suits and ties on TV, Riley wore a North Face coat, with his badges dangling from a lanyard around his neck, like the bastard was about to hit the slopes. What the hell he was doing at a murder investigation was beyond Cox.

Cox directed his gaze toward Burke. “Someone order a latte? The fuck is the geek squad doing here? You call him, Burke?”

“Nah, Chief.” Coffee in hand, Burke stood opposite Riley, staring into the open room. “I didn’t call him.”

Riley swung around, a fake smile plastered to his face. “Ah, what an honor, Chief. Must’ve heard there were dicks flying in this case, eh, Cox?”

Insolent little cocksucker.

Supposedly, the murder scene was the worst the department had seen in a while, and in a city where killings happened every damn day, that was saying something. The girls had already been transported to the hospital. Good thing, too. If one of them had happened to recognize Cox, shit would’ve taken a bad turn.

“Go fuck yourself, Riley. Why don’t you leave the real cop shit to the boys who’ve actually handled a gun. This is local shit. A murder.” Still winded as hell from his climb, Cox glanced around. “I don’t see a computer, do you?”

“These sick sons of bitches have been running a copycat site in the deep ‘net, selling young girls for years. ‘Sides that, I was invited in an encrypted email.”

Cox drew back. “Email?” What the fuck kind of killer sent an email?

Riley sipped his coffee, his finger slipping across the screen of his iPad. Goddamn hipsters. A peek over Riley’s shoulder showed the mug shot of Julius Malone, who’d gone missing. “I have a feeling there’s a link between Achilleus X and the Eye for an Eye killer.”

“Ain’t that some shit. You boys can’t find the bastard tearing up the deep net, so you decide to overlap the two so the agency don’t take away your Dungeons and Dragons membership.” A raspy laugh tore from Cox’s chest.

Riley’s gaze lifted from the screen he’d been studying. “A denial of service hit the Detroit Police Department website for a full thirty minutes after the email was sent.” He huffed and sipped his coffee, tucking the iPad beneath his arm. “So, now we know why I’m here. Why are you here? Chief?”

“I got a personal stake in keeping this city from going apeshit. Most murders here are gangs. Bad deals. Retribution kills. This shit’s got the suburb folks worked up that he might cross the line between Detroit and Fashionable Fuckin’ Ferndale.” Cox’s eyes narrowed on Riley. “Ain’t that where you’re from, Riley?”

“Southfield, actually.”

Cox stepped past the two men to just inside the room that bustled with investigators.

“Chief,” Burke said, following behind him. “Might wanna nab a barf bag on your way in. This shit’s just ... goddamn. The killer sure as fuck has something against pedophiles.”