Cause to Run. Blake Pierce

she went on, “I was a foster kid for about six years. I went through a lot of homes, was picked up by a few families. House mothers. That’s what they’re called. They get paid to take in young children with nowhere else to go. Everybody’s happy. The state gets to wipe their hands clean of wayward children. Crappy people get to have slaves.”

      “Avery. I am so sorry.”

      “There was this one house mother – ”

      A newspaper was slapped down on the table.

      Dylan Connelly stood above them.

      “You seen this?” he said. “It’s the late edition. All over the Internet. A copy of the letter was mailed to A7. O’Malley is waiting on us. Wants the entire team in to go over what you’ve discovered so far. It’s from your killer.”

      The cover of the paper read: Murder at Marina, and showed a shot of the victim on the bow of a yacht docked to a pier. Lines from the article stood out: “Saliva swab on the letter matches that of the slain woman,” and “Possible bookstore connection.” Avery was mentioned twice by name: once as an investigator from the A1 brought in to help with the case, and once as a possible love interest of captured serial killer Howard Randall.

      A smaller caption read: Letter from the Murderer! The picture displayed a zoom-in of words scrawled on paper.

      Avery flipped to the page.

      The letter was a full side. The killer’s note was written like a poem:

How can you break the cycle?How can you take advantage of each moment in life?I have found the keyI can unlock the prizeCome all who dareI defy youThe first body is set. More will come

      Avery set it down, her entire body trembling.

      More will come.

      She knew, with sudden certainty, that he was right.

      CHAPTER TEN

      Before Avery and Ramirez even walked into the A1 conference room, they could hear O’Malley screaming into the speakerphone.

      “Completely unacceptable, Will! You were supposed to share everything with us. We’re handling this case now. But instead, you received a huge piece of evidence and decided to keep it for yourself. When were you going to call us?”

      “We just received the letter this afternoon,” Holt blared back from the speaker.

      “How did the papers get it?”

      “They got a copy. We have the original here, but the killer made copies. The way I understand it, he sent them to every newspaper.”

      “No way the papers would know that splotch on the bottom of the letter was a saliva swab. That had to come from your department. So you got the letter, you had forensics check it out, you matched the saliva to the victim, and then you told someone. That’s the only way this could have happened, Will. The first call you should have made was to Detective Black. Do you know where I am right now? I’m in the office. You know where I should be? I should be in bed with my wife. But instead, I’m here. That’s because you didn’t do your job, and now we have a publicity nightmare on our hands and the mayor is pissed.”

      “Calm down, Mike, calm down.”

      “I won’t calm down until you tell me the truth!”

      “The truth is, we had no idea that letter was connected to the victim we found this morning. It came in the regular mail, it was opened by one of our staff, and someone had the foresight to send it to forensics. It just so happened that there was a match.”

      “Who called the papers?”

      “They must have called us.”

      “The leak definitely came from your department.”

      “I’ll handle it.”

      “You’d better handle it, and next time, we expect a call.”

      He hung up.

      “Shit!” he cried.

      Dylan Connelly sat down.

      “Captain, why don’t you go home?” he said. “I can handle this.”

      “I can’t go anywhere just yet,” O’Malley replied, “because the mayor pulled me into his Everybody-Holds-Hands crime campaign and now I’m screwed. Don’t worry. I’m going home soon. You’re here to learn everything you can from Black and Ramirez and act as a liaison with Simms over at the A7 so this doesn’t happen again. You two are friends, right?”

      “We were in the academy together.”

      “Good. Once we’re through here, call him up. If he doesn’t want to talk to myself or Black, he’s at least got to talk to you.”

      “It might not be his fault,” Avery said. “He was a little busy earlier.”

      “Oh yeah,” O’Malley snapped. “That reminds me. Nice face,” he noted to Avery. “What the hell were you doing in the gang den of Juan Desoto?”