DEATH (The Justice Cycle Book 1) by J Kiefer (best classic books to read TXT) 📗

“Hey, Sergeant Cotter, how ya doing?” Jared asked the older office. “Must be some heck of a show going on here with all these people hanging around. Is Endless in town or something?”

“Ha! Ha! Very funny, Jar,” Cotter replied dryly. “Where have you been? Dana’s been going out of her mind looking for you.”

“Overslept,” he said, his breath making a cloud in the cool morning air. “You know how it is.”

Cotter laughed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe for you girls in homicide. We beat cops never get to sleep in. Think of what would happen if we did. Who would do all the work?”

“Not to mention get the coffee,” Jared shot back. “I take mine with two sugars but no cream, thanks.”

“Get your own coffee, you son of a bitch!” Cotter retorted with a wry smile. “I have better things to do than babysit you.”

“Okay, okay!” Jared said, throwing his up hands and backing away. “I can see you have your hands full already, so I won’t take up any more of your time. Say hi to the hottie from action news for me, will ya?”

“No. I think I will keep that one all to myself,” Cotter said, turning just in time to see the aforementioned “hottie” standing directly behind him. His face flushed with embarrassment, like a little boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

“This is going to cost me big time, isn’t it?” Cotter asked the reporter dejectedly, and she smiled and nodded.

Jared fled down the street toward the area where the body was found before Cotter had time to properly thank him for setting him up. He smiled, his depression forgotten temporarily until he reached the crime scene and saw the expression on Dana’s face.

He walked up to her, passing the barely covered body of a young woman, and the gravity of what he saw hit him like a ton of bricks. He could do nothing but stand and gawk at the morbid scene. A deep sense of sadness swept over him, and all his petty troubles were lost in the terrible finality of death’s cold stare.

CSI officers worked like archeologists gingerly scouring the area for any clue the killer might have left, while other officers talked to the occupants of the surrounding houses, attempting to gather as much information about the events of the night before as they could. All in all, it was a typical murder scene much like the numerous others he’d been called to investigate.

But this one was different somehow, and he could not fathom why. Deep down in his gut, however, he could sense that there was something disturbing about this particular murder. He could not put his finger on what it was.

Dana walked up to him and stared down at the broken body of the young woman. “Why can’t I shake the feeling that there is something strange about this murder?” she asked him softly.

“You and me both,” he replied, unable to turn his gaze away from the grisly scene. “It’s almost as if this is more than just a murder.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I am trying to say. Maybe this is the kind of thing that usually happens when dealing with serial killers, but I can’t shake this strange feeling of dread.”

“Yeah maybe,” was all she said. Neither of them bought the hasty rationalization.

They stayed there staring until a large man wearing a brown suit interrupted them. “Detectives Campbell and Caddret?”

“Yeah,” said Jared, tearing his gaze away to look at the man who had addressed them. “What can we do for you?”

The man tried not to stare too long at the girl, but his curiosity got the better of him. His face went wan and he looked as if he was going to throw up. “I… um… am Special Agent Johansson from the FBI.”

“Is this your first crime scene, Mr. Johansson?” Jared asked. “You look a little nervous.”

“Uh… no, not really. I don’t know why this one is affecting me this way. Maybe it’s how young the girl is. She kind of reminds me of my daughter. I apologize, but I think I am going to need to sit down.”

“We’ll join you,” Jared said, taking Dana by the arm and turning her away from the scene. “The boys from the coroner’s office will be here to take her away soon, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Dana said, shaking her head as if waking from a dream. “I have all the information I need for now.”

The trio walked over to a parked patrol car and opened the driver’s side door. Johansson sat down and bent forward, breathing heavily. None of them spoke for a while, each lost in their own dark thoughts.

Johansson was a tall well-built African American man with short-cropped dark hair and dark brown eyes. He was in his mid-fifties but looked older, the stress of his job weighing heavily on his features.

“Sorry to have pegged you for a rookie back there,” Jared said, breaking the silence. “But I’ve seen a lot of guys faint when they look shaky like that.”

“No offense taken,” Johansson said with a gruff New England accent. “I don’t know what came over me. In all my years at the Bureau, that’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not alone, Special Agent,” Jared replied. “Detective Campbell and I were just discussing the strange reactions we were experiencing as well.”

Dana nodded but said nothing.

“Detective Campbell informed me that you are here to investigate the possibility of our two murders being linked with the ones you have been investigating in the city?” Jared asked. “The Eastside Stalker, I believe.”

Johansson stood up gingerly and smiled. “You’re a smart detective, and I assume the thought has crossed your mind as well. There are striking similarities between the murders, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, but there have not been any murders outside of the city to date,” Dana said. “Why should we believe that he has moved