She reached out with her hand, clawing at the floor. She’d kill anyone to survive.
And so would he.
With the swift flick of the knife, he sliced into tendon. Pain washed over her, stealing her breath and her fight.
Blood pooled under her legs, and he found himself mesmerized by the warm crimson puddle. He dipped his fingertips into the blood and rubbed it between his fingers.
He rarely resorted to bloodshed, finding it made too much of a mess. Too many chances to carry away DNA that could be traced back to him. But now, as he raised his fingertips to his nose and inhaled the coppery scent, he discovered he liked the smell. The feel, and yes, the taste. Later, he would have to burn his clothes and destroy everything he’d touched, but for now he reveled in the moment.
He began to tie his first knot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Wednesday, November 1, 7:00 a.m.
As Julia crossed the alley behind Billy’s to the green dumpster, she hated the stiffness in her body. Another bad night of restless sleep had left her irritable. She heaved the trash bag from her apartment with practiced precision, and as she turned to head toward her car, a flicker of movement caught her peripheral vision. Her hand moved to her gun as a matter of reflex; her heart beat faster with adrenaline as she looked at a noose dangling from a lamppost.
Pulling her weapon from its holster, she glanced from side to side and behind the dumpster, expecting to see someone lying in wait. When she’d worked undercover, she never came home directly from the field for this reason. She would drive in the opposite direction of her apartment and then circle around the block at least four times, knowing that carelessness could get her killed.
“Shit.”
The message swayed gently in the morning breeze. Holstering her weapon, she reached for latex gloves tucked in her back pocket and tugged them on. There was no note. No threat. Nothing verbal. Anyone else would have dismissed the rope as a kid’s prank. She didn’t.
She touched the red nylon looped cord. Anger replaced worry.
Benny was in jail, but Lana hadn’t been shy about showing her anger. One word from Benny, and Lana would gladly have done her lover’s bidding. Or the Hangman might have gotten wind of her interest in his case and was making a statement.
Either way, the rope’s message was clear: Today’s the anniversary of your father’s death, and I know where you live.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she whispered. She pulled a plastic evidence bag from her purse and lifted the noose free from the lamppost. She fought the urge to stomp on it, and instead, gently inserted the rope into the evidence bag.
The back door to the bar opened, and Cindy emerged with a sack of trash in her hand. Julia tucked the bag in her jacket.
“You’re leaving? I didn’t hear you get up,” Cindy said as she flipped open the dumpster lid and let the sack loose.
“Yep.”
“Where you headed?”
Julia’s lips tipped into a wary grin, knowing she’d avoided this discussion with Cindy long enough. “I’m searching out the old Hangman suspects. Andrews at Shield forwarded me a list of current addresses last night, and now it’s time to knock on doors.”
Cindy frowned. “You’re doing what?”
“I’m reopening the Hangman case.”
Cindy cursed. “I thought you were taking time off or at least going at a slower pace!”
“I am.”
“Off means not working and a slower pace means sleeping in, Julia.” Her voice rose.
“I’m not working working. Exactly. Going to swing by the forensic department and ask a couple of questions, then chat with a few people.”
Cindy flexed her fingers. “That case poisoned what was left of your parents’ marriage. It’s the reason Jim shot himself.”
“That’s why I’m reopening it,” she said softly. “I have to finish what Jim started.”
Cindy was silent as she shook her head before she said more slowly, “What does Rita have to do with this?”
“Novak and I think she might have been a victim of the Hangman.”
Cindy stared at Julia and then sighed. “When are you ever going to sit and just be?”
“Once I see this case through, I’ll kick back.”
“You know what today is?”
“I do. And I’m okay.”
“You sure?” Tears glistened in Cindy’s eyes.
“Yes.” Julia kissed her aunt on the cheek and hurried up the back staircase to her room. There she pulled the rope from her pocket and stared at the noose. She’d been threatened before but never at her own home. She thought about asking Andrews to have a look at it, but this was outside of the original case parameters for the Hangman. And Andrews had enough
on his plate. She was still in control.
She put the rope in her backpack and hustled down the stairs. A buddy at the state lab might be able to help.
“You’re off in a big rush.” The deep timbre of Novak’s voice stopped her midstep on her way to the SUV. She turned to find him leaning against a parked car.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Thought I’d stop by.” He looked toward the sky like he was taking in the morning sun. “Where are you headed?”
“Running an errand. And yeah, I’m kinda in a rush.”
He slowly glanced around, making sure they were alone. “Does your urgency have anything to do with the noose you found in the alley?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I arrived about two minutes before you came downstairs.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I know.” He rose to his full six-foot-plus height. “Were you going to tell me about it?”
She was tall for a woman, but he was a good four inches taller than her and was pressing on the edge of her personal space. “Not sure there’s anything to tell.”
“Really? You don’t see the significance?”
Her fingers tightened around the shoulder strap of the backpack. “Look, I can take care of myself. And again, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see Cindy. She said she’d get those other pictures of you and your father.”
“She didn’t mention you were coming.”
“Seems communication is not a strong suit in your family.”
“Appears not.”
Cindy arrived with an old box. “Detective Novak, I found the pictures.”
“Where were they?” Julia was a little annoyed her aunt had not mentioned Novak’s visit while they’d been in the alley.
“Attic of my house. Back corner. Really tucked away.” She set the dusty box on the hood of the SUV. “These are all the pictures taken while your dad was still alive. When he passed, your mom didn’t want them around, so I boxed them up and put them away. I wasn’t a fan of Jimmy Vargas, but he was your father and I thought that one day you’d want these.”