34. Rhodonite

THIRTY-FOUR

Rhodonite

They had the floodlights on her, the forensic techs in their suits crawling all over the place, but Rus stood at the foot of the bed and just stared.

He was certain it was the Crystal Killer, even if it was not his MO.

There was plastic.

She was tied to the bed.

She’d been violated. It had been prolonged and sadistic.

But she was on her back, spread out.

Her head was not caved in.

Instead, there was a knife in her heart and he’d left it there.

Her eyes were open, not closed, and they stared at the ceiling. Her face was a mess, not only blood splotches, but she’d been beaten. There was swelling, splitting, bruising. The last could be seen on her body, particularly around her ribs and neck.

There were two messages in stone for Rus. They were left on the tarp between her spread legs.

One was a pile of crushed milky grayish-pink powder, the other was a triangle of Rhodonite. Rus knew the crushed substance was Rhodonite as well, even though it was obliterated. It’d have to be tested, but he’d wager his condo and car on the fact it came up as that stone.

Since he had this shit down, he knew the stone was about love and friendship. Stability. Emotional balance. In healing, it helped to assuage negativity.

Crushed, it would mean the opposite of those.

The crushed was for her.

The triangle of stone was for Rus.

There was another message left for Rus.

It was carved five times in her flesh: on her forehead, across her chest, along her stomach and down each thigh.

He’s next.

The victim was Carrie Molnar.

* * *

They satat Moran’s conference table, Rus and Moran.

“He’s been investigating it along with us,” Moran said to the table.

They were both sitting there, motionless, staring at the tabletop in front of them.

“Yes,” Rus agreed.

“He’s following us…or you,” Moran went on.

“Yes,” Rus agreed.

At the same time, they looked to each other.

And at the same time, they said one of the worst things either of them could say out loud.

“He’s a cop.”