Her Shallow Grave (Detectives Kane and Alton)

Kane stared at

her, trying to hide his emotions. He swallowed a few times and forced out words from his parched throat. “She’s in custody. I’ll go get you some water.” He stood and searched the cabin, located her coat and tossed it to Wolfe.

Built as a haven for stranded hunters, the cabins had a supply of essentials. He found a carton of bottled water, cracked one open, and handed it to her. She looked better already and color was coming back into her cheeks. “I’ll call the Blackwater Sheriff’s Department and get them to take our prisoner into custody. We’re out of jurisdiction here.”

“What prisoner?” Jenna peered around the cabin. “Oh! I’ve never seen him before. Did you beat him up, Dave?”

Kane looked at his boots. “Ah, well I tossed him into the wall.” He glanced at Wolfe, who gave him a very subtle shake of the head. In that second, he decided not to inform Jenna he’d disturbed the prisoner’s obvious intent to rape her. He didn’t want to trigger a PTSD episode. “He was going through your pockets and had removed your coat.”

“I put him down.” Wolfe shrugged. “He was resisting arrest. You can see Dave’s point. You were down, a guy was leaning over you. Trust me, he deserved a beating.”

“And he tried to remove my jeans, didn’t he?” Jenna sipped the water and looked straight into Kane’s eyes. “You can stop using your combat face on me, Dave. I’m not going to break. Oh, boy. He thought I was dead too.” She pushed a shaky hand through her hair. “Nice to know they have sick freaks in Blackwater as well.”

“We thought Kim might have had an accomplice and didn’t discount the possibility she was working with The Sculptor. I’ll run his prints but I’m guessing he just came across you. His truck motor was still warm when we arrived and Kim was in town when we left to find you.” Kane touched her cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind one ear. “I have coffee in the truck and I’ll need to bring Duke inside before he freezes to death out there.” He straightened. “I won’t be long.”

Once outside, he made the call to the Blackwater sheriff and ran the prints. The man was out of Blackwater and had a sheet. He collected his Thermos, the takeout bags of sandwiches, and Wolfe’s bag then headed back inside with Duke at his feet. Jenna was in a chair, in front of an old wood stove, which Wolfe was attempting to light. Kane placed everything on the table beside Jenna and poured her a cup of coffee. “I have sandwiches. I guess you haven’t eaten for some time.”

“I somehow knew you’d have a stash of food.” Jenna looked at him. “Can’t we just leave and drop the prisoner into the Blackwater sheriff? I want to go home and get some sleep.”

“You’re sure not sleeping or going anywhere yet.” Wolfe checked her blood pressure. “Not until I say so. You nearly died, Jenna. I’d like to take blood and find out what she used on you.”

“Go right ahead.” Jenna sipped her coffee and smiled when Duke rested his head on her knee. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Duke’s giving me his sad face and Dave looks like he wants to kill someone.”

Kane didn’t respond. Instead, he wedged a chair against the broken door, checked the prisoner, who was out cold, and went back to sit with her. How could he explain the rage, the need to tear apart the man who wanted to hurt her? His feeling of emptiness when he thought she’d died, came back in a rush. He schooled his expression. “You were down, I reacted with necessary force but I’m always in control.” He smiled at her. “He’s alive, isn’t he? Mind you, Shane lost it there for a second or two.”

“Basic restraining tactics.” Wolfe stored the blood samples and then poured himself a coffee. “And to answer your next question, we can leave as soon as someone arrives to pick up that pile of garbage, you should be able to travel by then.”

“Something else.” Jenna lifted her chin. “I want to take some swabs and make sure you test me for all the nasties.”

Kane took her hand. “He didn’t rape you, Jenna. He didn’t get the chance.”

“It’s late.” Jenna’s hand trembled. “Kim gave me the first hit of whatever around two, maybe three, I don’t remember. She obviously kept me under all the time and then hit me up before she left me here to die. You caught Necrophiliac Man but who else came by in the hours I was out cold?”

“You were dressed.” Wolfe narrowed his gaze. “Few rapists dress their victims after an attack, they get away as fast as possible.”

Kane cleared his throat. “Not so often in date-rape cases when the victim is unconscious. Often the rapist replaces the clothing and acts as if nothing happened.”

“See.” Jenna looked from one to the other. “It was possible but I’m not allowing any of this to leave this room. If we make a big issue of it, then as sure as the sun rises in the morning, Kim will find out and I’d never give her the satisfaction.”

“Okay, we’ll do all the tests but I’m not comfortable taking the swabs, Jenna.” Wolfe swallowed hard and looked at Kane.

“Oh, stop it both of you. I’ll do it myself.” Jenna straightened her clothing and refusing Wolfe’s hand, pushed to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thirty-One

Saturday

It was a good day and if Preacher’s latest creation made the news it would be perfect, although to date, the coverage of his art had been sadly missing. What must he do to get media attention—send the sheriff a head on a stick? He grinned and munched on toast, his feet resting on the coffee table as he watched the array of screens. His girls had woken to a pot of fresh coffee, orange juice and a selection of cereals. They couldn’t complain he didn’t feed them well, that’s for sure. He had his reasons. His art would suffer if he displayed emaciated damaged specimens and he always made a point of making sure they’d showered before he used them. He supplied the best toiletries, to keep their hair and skin smooth. They’d never gotten cold. He kept the heat up and filled a closet with coats boots and sweaters. On waking they’d spoken in hushed tones, not understanding how Delores number three had arrived without a sound. He liked that Delores number one, or Ava as she insisted they call her, explained the situation to the others. How they must behave and act under his care. They’d all eaten and sent back the dumbwaiter and he’d sent it straight back. They understood the rules. To eat again, they must shower and change and then deposit their laundry into the dumbwaiter. He liked to watch them shower and see how the water highlighted their tattoos. It helped him decide how best to display them.

He’d sent down fresh clothes for them to wear, articles from the other Deloreses. Seeing the new girls wearing the same clothes gave him wonderful memories, flashing technicolor visions of their last moments, or where he’d placed them in his artwork. He crossed his legs and sighed. It had been an eventful evening and a thrill to meet another Delores so willing to join him. It was just as well he’d added a little something to the other girls’ food last night and once asleep, he’d been able to carry Delores number three downstairs, removed her smelly clothes, and after taking photographs of her beautifully inked flesh to study later, he’d tucked her into bed. He’d moved around the cellar, checking everything was okay and collecting a strand of hair from each girl. He preferred to tug out a strand when life still flowed through their veins. With the root still attached, it remained alive, long, silky, and luxurious. He kept the strands with his girls’ IDs, to remember every little detail of their last moments. His heart picked up a beat as a creation formed in his mind. His fingers tingled with the memory of ice-cold flesh. He needed one to come to him soon—he couldn’t wait much longer.

Thirty-Two

Dragging herself into work after the longest Friday she’d ever lived in her life was an effort for Jenna. Although Wolfe and Kane had insisted she work from home, she’d refused. They’d clucked over her like mother hens. Deep down she appreciated their care but it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t have any serious injuries, apart from a headache from hell and no appetite whatsoever. By noon, she’d been ready to scream and Kane, being his usual diplomatic self, had driven her to the office.

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The night before had gone on forever. After the Blackwater deputies had hauled away their prisoner, Kane, face pale and still in combat mode, with his lips turned down at the corners in a permanent scowl, had reluctantly taken her to Wolfe’s office. Once there, she’d bagged up her clothes and collected the necessary swabs. After completing Wolfe’s check list and including allowing him to take samples from under her fingernails, she’d sat with her back to the tile under a hot shower for a very long time trying to piece together the sequence of events.