Merciless (Alexandria Novels 2)

“If these pictures are an accurate time line, it looks like he took a couple of years off between his trial and his next victim.”

“The murder trial must have scared him enough to stop for a while.” Garrison studied the images that went back decades. Neither of them recognized any of the women.

“It’s going to take legwork to find these women.”

“Yeah.” Garrison’s gaze settled on the first image. “Shit. Look at the first one.”

The picture was at least thirty years old, but he recognized the face. “Fay Willow. She was his first.”

“Dixon was the boyfriend?” Garrison said.

“He could have been. He would have been in his early twenties when she died.”

“Fay’s roommate said the boyfriend made deliveries to the museum.”

“A little digging will confirm his employment records.”

Malcolm moved to a table on the far end of the room.

It appeared to be a workstation where Dixon cropped and arranged his pictures. He glanced down, and instantly his blood turned to ice. “Garrison, look at this.”

Garrison moved and studied the images of the woman. The pictures were snapped when she was selecting produce in the grocery store, walking in Old Town Alexandria, and standing on the steps of the courthouse. “His next victim.”

Malcolm fisted his fingers. “Angie Carlson.”

It was nearly four in the morning when Angie arrived at Dr. Dixon’s house after receiving a call from Kier. Kier’s normally abrupt tone had been sharp like a razor, cutting into her deep slumber. Curt and direct, he’d told her she had to come immediately. She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. She pushed her feet into loafers.

Police cars surrounded the home, their lights flashing in the darkness. The forensics van blocked half the neighborhood road.

She found a place to park several houses down and walked toward the chaos. The front yard was roped off with yellow crime-scene tape. She moved toward a uniformed officer.

“My name is Angie Carlson. I received a call from Detective Kier.” She moved to pull her driver’s license from her wallet to prove her identity.

He held up his hand. “I know who you are.” He handed her a set of plastic gloves. “He’s on the second floor.”

She ducked under the tape, pulling the gloves on as she moved across the yard. When she reached the front door another uniformed policeman greeted her and directed her up the stairs to the second floor. The house hummed with the snap of cameras, conversations, and officers moving around as they searched all the rooms.

She found Malcolm in the back bedroom. He and Garrison leaned over a table of photos, and both seemed deep in thought.

Her greeting died on her lips when she looked at the pictures on the wall. The women’s pain-filled eyes stared back at her, sending a haunting appeal for help. The sharp, crisp images were so vivid she could almost hear their cries. For a moment she thought she’d be ill.

Dear God, she’d defended this monster. She’d used all her legal know-how to put him back on the streets.

“Carlson.” Malcolm’s deep voice startled her from her thoughts.

She squared her shoulders. “Detective.”

“Interesting glimpse into your client’s mind, isn’t it?”

“He’s no longer my client.” Her voice wasn’t as strong as she’d have liked.

“But when he was, you did a bang-up job of defending him. You put him back on the streets.” Bitterness laced the words.

Guilt mingled with anger. “I did my job very well, Detective. And if you’d done yours better we wouldn’t be here.”

His jaw hardened.

She tightened her hand around her purse strap. “Did you call me here to argue?”

“No.”

“Then why?” The grotesque images behind him taunted her. She didn’t want to see the damage Dixon had done.

“Your client killed another woman.”

He was baiting her, directing his anger at her. A part of her knew she deserved his ire. “He’s not my client.”

Kier arched a brow as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I want to make damn sure you have no information about him that might help us.”

“I’ve not spoken to him in over a week.”

“He’s not contacted you in any way?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

She leaned in so close she could smell his scent. “Call me a bitch. Call me a barracuda. Hell, call me the Queen of the Night. I don’t care. But do not call me a liar, Detective. I’ve gone out of my way to help you with this case.”

He held his ground, maintaining the close proximity. He stared at her so hard; she suspected he was trying to read her thoughts. “There’s something else you need to see.”

She didn’t want to see any more. She wanted to leave. She wanted to slip into a dark bar and drink wine until her mind was numb. “Show me.”

He guided her across the room to the table. “Have a look.”

She braced and glanced down. Immediately, her in-sides constricted. The images were all of her. “These are all recent. Taken in the last couple of months.” She didn’t dare touch the images. “I never once saw him.”

“He may have taken the pictures himself or hired someone. But it’s clear he has a real obsession with you.”

She moistened her lips, praying she didn’t get sick to her stomach now. “I was his next victim.”

“I think so.”

“You said he killed another woman?”

“He cut her throat.”

“Cut her throat? That doesn’t sound like Dixon.”

“Why?”

“Dixon is so fastidious. And he wouldn’t be so bold.”

Malcolm considered her closely. “Why do you say that?”

“He was truly terrified at the prospect of going to jail. He said many times that he’d never survive in prison. Killing a woman like this is messy, and his DNA would be all over the room. He’d be too easy to track after a killing like that.”

“Maybe he got lost in the heat of the moment.”

“Dixon? Doubtful. I never ever saw him once relinquish control. Control is critical for him. I just don’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

She studied a photo taken of her entering King’s. Eva was at her side, and they were laughing. She remembered the spring day clearly. They’d gone shopping, and for the first time in a long time she felt as if they were sisters. To realize Dixon had been lurking and snapping pictures of that moment made her feel dirty.

“I

want you to look at another picture.” His tone had lost some of the harder edges.

Unshed tears burned her throat. Numbly she nodded and followed him to the end of the photos. She glanced up. “Who is this?”

“Fay. We think she might have been his first.”

“Was Dixon her boyfriend?”

“He could have been. He would have been in his early twenties. She was twenty-nine when she died. Not an impossible arrangement.”

“He killed her and stripped her bones?” She shook her head.

“I don’t know. That’s why we’re searching for him.” He cupped his hand under her elbow and guided her away from the picture. “Could he be working with someone?”

“A partner? I doubt it. He liked things done his way.”

“Maybe he changed his mind?”

She nodded. “What can I do to help you?”

“Is there anyone whom he would have worked with?”

“None that I know. He had no family that he ever told me about. Whatever friends or acquaintances he had before his trial abandoned him. I got the sense he was quite alone in the world.”

“What was his social life like?”

“I can’t speak for his recent activities, but in the past he was a patron of the arts.”

“The theater.”

“And the ballet and the art museums. He loved that world.”

“Okay.” He tightened his jaw. “Call Eva. See if you can stay at King’s for a few days. Until we find Dixon or his possible partner you are not safe.”

She didn’t want to surrender her life to scum like Dixon. But she had to be practical. “Sure.”

Her agreement seemed to strip away some of his stress. “Good. I’ll have a uniform follow you to your office and then to King’s.”

“Thanks.”

“Angie, be very, very careful. For whatever reason, Dixon has not killed you, but he’s got something planned.”

* * *

Dixon’s head pounded. His mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. In a pitch-black room, he tried to pull his arm to his mouth but discovered it was tied above his head. Not only were his hands tied, but his feet were tied as well. “Hey!”

Immediately, an overhead light clicked on, blinding him. Shutting his eyes, he turned his head. “What the hell is going on?”