The Raging Eyes of the Eagle-Unfinished

Prologue

The night screamed murder. It wasn’t a loud scream nor did it warn anyone of its presence. The blackness of death walked toward the apartment building. It was time to kill.

He was clad only in black. His whole being belonged with the night. The man was a killer. He reached her apartment building. It was in a nice part of town with no door attendant. A visitor had to “buzz” the tenant and request entrance. He calmly announced himself. The door opened. He smiled in spite of himself. His plan was working. He would soon be face to face with her. He smiled even wider when he felt sexual arousal. Killing made him feel on top of the world. He felt godlike when he sliced a throat of an unsuspecting victim.

The wind grew fierce as he climbed the three flights of stairs. The man hoped she wouldn’t recognize him until it was too late. He felt his excitement grow when he thought about the money he would get for doing something he loved. He could not believe his luck when he received instructions for this hit.

When he reached her floor, he peeled off his camel skin coat and put on his gray wig, glasses and sports coat. She wouldn’t recognize him. Nothing could stop him now.

The door opened and a woman stood before him wearing a black silk jump suit, a pair of 5-inch, black, spiked heels and a smile. Candi O’Neal stared at her new customer. Was that a look of fear he saw on her face. Did she recognize him?

Candi seduced him with her blatant stare. He was just a middle aged man looking for pleasures his wife would never dream of giving him at home. She opened her door wider allowing him to enter.

“What’s your pleasure, Mister?” She asked in her well rehearsed, seductive voice.

“You,” the man said. He followed her into her living room. He watched her bottom swish back and forth. She was a real beauty. She turned toward him suddenly. Her red-gold curls bounced off her shoulders. Her face held an angelic expression. She was gearing up for her performance. Playing the innocent whore! He felt sudden anger and rage at this woman.

“Do you have a name?” She asked him, puzzled at the look that flashed in his eyes for a brief moment.

“Phil, and you?”

“Candi. Ralph didn’t tell me how handsome you were.” She giggled.

“He told me all about you.”

“Good then there will be no surprises. He tells me you like to experiment. . .

His anger began to boil on the point of no return but he calmed himself. She was starting to piss him off. She was still playing the “Miss Innocent” act. It wasn’t like she was a virgin that was about to have sex for the first time. She was experienced. She was filthy and unworthy of any man’s affections. He was glad he wasn’t actually here to have sex with her. He felt bile rise in his throat.

“Where’s your bedroom.”

She rose and walked to the back of her apartment. She laughed to herself. He has to get home to his wife before she sends out a search party. She led him to her bedroom. She began to undress. The bed was arranged with several pieces of rope and two pairs of handcuffs. The man felt elation. It was getting closer.

“Lay down.”

She did what he asked and he began to tie her ankles to the end of the bed and then handcuffed her wrists to the top of the bed. It was time.

“Ralph knows nothing about me. How come you trust his judgment in the men he sends your way?”
“I gotta trust someone in this business. Listen, Mister did you come here to talk or fuck!”

He felt like stabbing her then. But he couldn’t kill her just yet. He calmly started to undress. He took a condom from the pocket of his sports jacket, tore it opened and rolled it on his hard manhood. She noticed his hard member. She smiled. She didn’t know that his arousal had nothing to do with thoughts of “fucking her” as she so delicately put it. His arousal was born of purely evil thoughts. He wanted to kill her.

He straddled her on the bed. He then picked up the gag on the bed beside him and tied it around her mouth. He removed his wig and glasses. She made a sound like a small animal trapped by a large, hungry predator. Her mind screamed with fear. This man was going to kill her.

“So you know who am I? Good we can skip the formalities. Are you ready to die, Candy O’Neal.”

She tried to scream but the gag prevented it. Would he torture her? He looked down into her blue eyes and laughed. It was an evil laugh and she felt fear greater than any fear she had ever known.

“I should give you a little pleasure before I kill you, but whores make me sick.” The man laughed as he reached for his knife. He simply cut a fine slash in her throat. Candi O’Neal felt a stinging there. A line of blood lingered. This is what it was like, looking death in the face. The man raised a hand and slapped her across the face, leaving an angry red mark. Suddenly, he lost all control. His fists began to pound into her face, her head, her breasts. She began writhing underneath him in pain. She found herself hysterically thinking that tomorrow she would be one big bruise. She suddenly knew that for her tomorrow would never come.

Candi O’Neal knew pain. She was intimate with the sensation because of her profession but she never felt anything like this. Candi saw the knife glinting in the semi-darkness. She saw the fury in his eyes. She saw the smirk on his face as he raised the knife. And she saw the raging eyes of the eagle on the man’s tattoo before he silenced her forever.

Chapter One

Chicago, IL-January 1996

Jessica Blake sat straight up in bed. She felt confused, not knowing what woke her at first. Then she heard it, the shrilling of the telephone. She glanced over at her clock on her nightstand.

Five twenty-nine. Was it her boss, District Attorney Vaughn? Would he ask her to go on her first investigation as one of many Assistant District Attorneys?

Jessica reached for the annoying object.

“Hello,” she answered.

Silence.

“Hello,” Jessica asked again. The line crackled with static and she heard the heavy breathing.

Jessica felt overwhelmed by the caller’s silence and the darkness that surrounded her. With shaky hands, she slammed the receiver certain she broke the caller’s eardrums.

She immediately felt better once she disconnected the line. It was just a wrong number. She told herself. Jessica settled back into her bed, pulling the covers to her chin when a chill passed through her body. She felt relieved when the haziness of sleep finally claimed her.

* * * *

The man laughed as he replaced the receiver. He sat in his favorite chair with a picture of Jessica in his hands.

“Your beautiful,” he rasped. He ran a finger over her lips in her picture. “Soon you will me mine, darling.”

He felt a tightening of muscles, the excitement that always filled him when he thought of Jessica. He needed her. But sometimes he felt rage when he thought of Jessica. He needed her like he needed food. His arousal grew when he stared at her picture. Suddenly, in a fit of rage he threw her portrait against the wall. It smashed into several pieces, but the picture was still intact. He angrily leaped from his chair and with his knife, cut a slash in her throat, her face, and then he stabbed his knife into the image of her eyes. The photograph was mangled beyond recognition. Suddenly, the man broke down and cried.

“Jessica,” he muttered. His voice broke. He sat there and cried. It seemed as soon as the sobs started, they stopped.

Having held the disfigured portrait tenderly and gently, the man began to rip what remained into shreds. In a frenzy, out of control in the world of the sane, he began to knock over furniture. A lamp crashed to the floor. Violently, he cut the cushions in his couch and then slashed at anything in his path.

He released all the pent-up desire for Jessica in fury. Finally composed the man calmly walked into the kitchen, stepping over the broken furniture. He began to prepare a gourmet breakfast of Eggs Benedict.

After having had his breakfast, the man cleaned away the broken furniture, stuffed the stuffing back into the cushions, sewed the many slashes, and picked up the glass from the picture he threw against the wall.

His chore completed the man walked into his bedroom and picked up yet another picture of Jessica Blake and kissed it. He sighed deeply as he felt a pleasure by simply kissing a picture of his beloved Jessica. The man went to take a shower. He carried the picture close to his heart tenderly, gently as if it might suddenly shatter if he handled it in the wrong way. He never would hurt his beloved Jessica, he told himself as he placed the picture on the corner of his sink, not in a million years.

* * * *

March 1996-Chicago Courthouse

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked. The spectators in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“We have your honor,” the foreman answered, glancing over at Assistant District Attorney, Jessica Blake. Jessica felt elation. She had a feeling that she won this case. Her hands began to shake and she ran them through her long black hair.

The formality of transporting the slip of paper from the foreman to the waiting judge seemed to take longer than the actual fifteen seconds it took. Jessica’s heart kept rhythm with the large clock behind her.

By the time the paper reached the hands of the foreman Jessica felt sick with anticipation.

“For the charge of assault and battery, we the jury find Ernie Lee Richards guilty.”

The whole courtroom seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“My thanks to the jury. The sentencing will be next Thursday at 9:00 A.M. Court is adjourned,” the judge announced.

A feeling of triumph overtook her. There is no feeling in the world like this, Jessica thought.

“You did it, Miss. Blake. He’ll never hurt me or my son again.” Carla Richards told Jessica with tears streaming down her once battered and bruised face.

“No, you did it Carla. It took courage to face him and testify. Courage not many women have. Now stop crying and go home and sleep the peace of knowing that you are both safe.” Jessica said this with tears forming in her own eyes. They embraced briefly.

Charles Latham stopped Jessica before she reached the heavy courtroom doors.

“Well, well if it isn’t our “Ass” District Attorney. Tell me Ms. Blake how does it feel sending a man to prison.” She noticed that Latham did not use the term “innocent man.”

“Mr. Latham…” Jessica began but he cut her off abruptly.

“You think you are so sure of yourself, don’t you. My client didn’t deserve this,” He said angrily. A small amount of spittle slapped Jessica in the face.

“There is no reason for a man to hit his wife, the one he vowed to love, honor, and cherish, with a steel pipe breaking her shoulder, arm, and several ribs. And let's not mention the blow he gave to his son for good measure. In my opinion, Mr. Latham, men like him should have the same treatment they dish out. He should have been locked up the moment he ever laid a hand on anyone. Justice is served here today, Mr. Latham and I will rejoice with gratitude.” Jessica stated, a little too loudly. She made several spectators in the corridor look their way. His eyes bored into hers intensely.

“Woman and law do not mix, lady. You should have been a social worker. Women can’t handle certain cases without their emotions getting in the way. Now if you’ll excuse me..."

Charles Latham gave her an icy, cold stare and quickly walked toward the exit. Jessica was angry. She had never in all her years in this profession ever met anyone so arrogant and cold. She couldn’t believe his views on battered women. It wasn’t a secret. He had defended several batters in his career. Some paid for their crimes but most walked free because of Latham’s somewhat shady defense work. His opinion made it look sound like he thought Carla Richards and her son deserved the punishments. What a sleaze!

She stepped out into the bitter cold of November. The wind clawed its way into the crevices of her practical wool coat. She hated Chicago in the late fall. It was windy and cold. Jessica felt suddenly warm when she thought of the fireplace waiting for her when she reached her apartment building.

She hailed a cab and gave the cab driver directions and sat back to grab a moment of solitude. The cab driver glanced in his rear-view mirror.

“You look like you just won the lottery,” The burly man joked.

She smiled at him and told him of her victory in court.

The cab pulled to a smooth stop in front of her apartment building.

“Curb service,” he said in his Italian accent.

“Thank you very much.” She paid the driver.

Jessica greeted by the door attendant, smiled at him. “Good afternoon, Ma’am.”

“Hello, Mr. Morgan.” She gave him a gorgeous smile and walked into the building. Jessica looked behind her before she stepped into the warm atmosphere of her building and suddenly felt chilled to her bones. She felt as if someone could see her. Watching her. She shivered and walked inside.

* * * *

After she filled the tea kettle she placed it on the stove and went into the living room to relax. She went back over the details of the case again and when she remembered Mrs. Richards battered body, Jessica was angry. How could a husband do that to his wife? Suddenly she felt relieved and happy he is now off the streets and Mrs. Richards can live the life she deserves. She was one of the lucky ones. She thought of the tea she was making and went in to turn it off. This occasion calls for a celebration. She found some champagne chilled in the refrigerator. Pouring herself a small amount, since champagne goes to her head, Jessica raised the glass to her lips. The phone rang. She looked at her glass longingly and placed it on the counter.

The ringing of the telephone hurried her steps. Jessica greeted the caller with a cheerful hello before the phone could ring for the fifth time. For a moment, the person on the other end said nothing they didn’t even breathe. She remembered the phone call from this morning and shivered in spite of the heat permeating the room. “Is anyone there?” Jessica asked again.

“Jess, it’s Jerry. I’ve got to see you.”

“Jerry, Jerry Brenner?”

“How many other Jerry’s do you know, Jess.”

“What do you want, Jerry?”

“Is that how you talk to your ex-husband, after all we’ve been through. Jess, I’m hurt,” He said. His voice seemed to ooze through the phone, covering Jessica with its contamination.

“I’m busy right now, Jerry.”

“I need to come over. We need to talk. It’s very important. Trust me.”

“Trust you? I’d rather jump into Lake Michigan in 10 degree weather.”

“If you don’t see me, Jess…it could mean the difference between life or death,” he said, almost out of breath.

“Your death or mine?”

“Yours, my dear.”

Jessica sat there for a second trying to come up with reasons why she shouldn’t see him. Jerry was always dramatic. She couldn’t think of any reason that was plausible. She would see him but it would be on her terms.

“Okay, just tell me when and where to meet you tomorrow and...

“No, Jessica. It has to be tonight. Now.”

Jessica heard the desperation in his voice. “Give me an hour and I’ll tell the doorman I’m expecting you.”

“Thank you, Jess. I always knew I could count on you. An hour, I’ll be there.”

Jessica replaced the receiver onto its cradle and hurriedly ran to her bedroom to shower. The phone call ruined her good mood and left her with a feeling of trepidation.

* * * *

The speaker rang and Jessica answered it. Jerry was early. Wrapped in her terry cloth robe she walked to the front hall and talked into the speaker. “Yes?”

“There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

“Thank you, please send him up.”

“Yes, Ms. Blake.”

Jessica suddenly felt nervous. She did not want to meet Jerry in her robe. She wanted to be in full control of the situation and in her robe she felt vulnerable. She had no choice since Jerry would be furious if she kept him waiting and she didn’t feel like dealing with his angry side tonight.

She could not help pulling the mauve terry cloth robe closer to her small frame as if somehow it could lend her protection from Jerry's usual leering stares. Just when Jessica decided not to answer the door and let Jerry rot out there, the doorbell rang. She still felt vulnerable despite her cool attitude she planned to use.

“You ‘re a bit early…” Jessica said as she opened the door. A small scream escaped her lips. Michael Brenner stood before her, his green eyes peering into hers. His hair the color of chestnuts was just as she remembered. He wore a simple green polo shirt that clung to his unyielding chest. He was a ghost, a ghost from her past, not yet put to rest.

* * * *

Jerry Brenner stood outside of Jessica’s building. He was fixing to walk in when he saw him. Damn, Michael. Now his plan ruined. He hated Michael. Leave it to his immaculate brother to show up at the worst possible time. Now, there was no way he could get what he was after with Michael in the picture. He would have to think up an alternate plan. He found his way back out by the employees entrance and walked to the pay phone across the street. He dialed a number and waited.

“There has been a change of plans. Michael is with her.” Jerry waited.

“Yes, I know that puts a dent in our plans, do you think I am stupid?” He paused again. “Okay, I’ll take care of it the only way I know how. You’ll get your money!” He said and slammed down the phone. Jerry’s alternate plan began to take shape in his mind. He smiled a wicked smile.

* * * *

Jessica couldn’t believe he was standing before her. Her legs felt weak. She knew if she didn’t sit down soon she would fall. She had waited for this moment for three years. She had vowed that the next time she saw him she would calmly tell him to leave. Show no emotion. All she wanted to do was fall into his arms. But all she could do now was stare at him. She took a moment to breathe in his cologne. He smelled like a tropical rain forest.

“Can I come in, Jessica?” He asked, jarring her to attention.

“Yes, I was...

“I caught you at a bad time. You were expecting someone else.” It was a question.

“Yes, I was expecting your brother, Jerry as a matter of fact. He desperately needed to talk to me.”

“It is important that I saw you as soon as I came into town. There is something we need to talk about, Jessie.”

“It’s Jessica!” She said, immediately correcting him.

“Sorry, Jessica. Old habits die hard.”

“Oh, really!” I am an old habit and it didn’t take me very long to die in your eyes did it? She thought. Suddenly all of the hurt and anger flooded back.

“Jessica, I..

“I want you to leave. I never want to see you again. I am doing fine without you or your rotten brother.” Her tough, courtroom exterior saved her from throwing herself into his arms and beg him to love her.

“Please, Jessica. I have something very important to tell you.”

Jessica thought a moment and indicated the sofa. He walked over and sat down. Her eyes slide down to gaze at his backside.
Perfection. She felt a wave of remembered passion for this man wash over her in great torrents as she remembered the feel of it in her hands.

“Would you like some champagne. I was just about to have some. I was having sort of a celebration.”

“Yes, I would love some,” Michael answered, staring at her intently. He took in her state of undress and if he would have been any closer to her he would have taken her in his arms to burn her with the passion, the desire he felt for her. Her black raven hair wet from her shower, curled around her face sexily. He felt almost sick with wanting to touch her. He held back and thought of the reason he came to see her in the first place. The reason was simple. He missed her. He could have simply called to tell her about the danger that lurked behind every tree, every alley, and sent another agent to protect her but he wanted to come himself to personally guarantee her safety. He glanced around her apartment and liked what he saw. It was her. Every book, every lamp reflected Jessica’s personality. He knew that leaving her again would tear his heart out, but it was just too dangerous to start what he started three years ago.

“What were you celebrating?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“I put away a wife beater and a child abuser. Justice is served.”

Jessica poured the champagne into the two glasses and almost burst out laughing. The situation seemed so natural but yet she was so uncomfortable being with Michael again. She finished pouring and she didn’t laugh.

Michael picked up his glass and raised it over his head. “To Jessica.”

Jessica clinked her glass with his and drank. Her mind was spinning in a hundred different directions. Damn him for coming back after all these years. Why now? Her life was starting to make sense again.

“Let’s get right too it, Michael. Why are you here?”

“The Bureau thinks someone will try to contact you about Jerry’s involvement in a theft twenty years ago. They believe you may be in danger.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am an Assistant District Attorney. I have protection.”

“The Bureau thinks otherwise.”

Jessica looked at him. “You could have sent another agent. Why did you come?” It was a simple question, questions she asked all day in the courtroom. But never was an answer so important as it was at this moment.

“I wanted to see how you were doing?”

“You saw, I’m doing fine. Now you can go.”

“Jessie, I need to tell you why I left.”

“You didn’t think it was important at the time, why are you wanting to tell me now, all of a sudden.”

Jessica started to walk away from him but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. At first they just stared, Jessica into his dark green eyes and Michael into her violet-blue ones. Then when the tension between them almost crackled, Michael lowered his head, bringing his lips inches from hers hesitating ever so slightly. “Tell me you missed me, Jessie, missed this…” Jessica moaned and pulled him to her waiting lips. An electric bolt shot through her entire body. Michael pushed her mouth open, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. Their kiss was an erotic dance of passion older than time. He left the moistness of her mouth to trail tiny kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat. Jessica moaned.

Michael caught her mouth with his as his hands ran through her tangled, wet hair. He pulled her closer against him, forcing her to feel his throbbing manhood.

All thoughts of reason and abandon cluttered in Jessica's mind. She wanted to break away from him and run as fast as she could. She also wanted to touch him all over and forget reason altogether. Abandon won out when Michael reached out to part her robe and found her breast. Her nipple hardened at his soft touch. His mouth left her lips once more to take the taunt nipple between his lips. He tenderly bit and suckled bringing gasps and moans deep from Jessica’s throat.

“Jessie,” Michael whispered. “You are so beautiful.” Jessica responded by pushing his head closer to her breast. When Michael was about to release the knot on Jessica’s robe, the phone shattered their world of passion, bringing them back to reality with a shocking jolt.

“I should answer that. It might be Jerry.”

Michael muttered something under his breath when Jessica straightened her robe and with the grace she didn’t know she possessed, she answered the annoying instrument.

With a throaty hello, Jessica answered. The caller greeted her with silence.

“Hello,” she asked again.

More eerie silence greeted her. Then she could hear a deep breathing replace the once silent line. Her face lost all color. When Michael noticed her ashen face, he was quickly beside her grabbing the phone from her hand. She quickly slammed the phone down before he could grab it.

“What was that all about?” Michael questioned.

“I guess it was a random prank from a couple of kids. It was harmless.”

“But the fear in your face. It was an ex-con who has a grudge, wasn’t it?”

“He just breathed loud and that was all. You act like after all these years you can waltz back into my life and become my knight in shining armor. I don’t need a knight and I don’t need a protector. I took care of myself just fine after you left me. I don’t need you anymore, Michael,” Jessica told him, expressing the passion she felt for him with anger. She had to do something to forget each kiss, each caress.

“You sure as hell acted like you needed me before that phone call.” Michael said, his voice low in his throat.

“That’s different Michael. We have always been attracted to each other. I could have stopped anytime.”

Her words were like a slap in his face. Michael turned his back to her. With irritation, he ran his hand through his hair.

Jessica shivered when she remembered their shared kisses moments before. Jessica lied to him, if the phone wouldn’t have interrupted them she knew she would have let him make love to her right there in the living room. She realized she didn’t have anything on underneath this robe.

“I think you should leave. Jerry will be here any minute and I need to get dressed.”

Michael turned to face her when the phone rang again. He snatched it up before Jessica could and answered with a grunt.

“It’s for you.” Michael handed her the phone.

Jessica took the phone from Michael. Her fingers gently brushed his. She felt a warm feeling in her belly.

“Larry, here. We have a murder at the Singleton Apartments. I want someone from our office to be there. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, sir.” She said with respect to her boss and long time family friend, District Attorney Larry Peterson. “What do you know so far?”

“A concerned neighbor called in to the Chicago PD at 5:30 this evening. The victim’s name is Candi O’Neal. She is…” He cleared his throat. “She was a prostitute.”

Jessica sighed. She received a phone call from homicide detective Ed Lewis from the Chicago PD just last week regarding the string of prostitute murders. He needed her advice on a legal matter regarding that case. The Chicago media call this serial killer “Zorro” because he leaves a Z carved into the victim's belly.

“I am on my way.” Jessica told D.A. Peterson.

Jessica glanced at Michael. “I have to go. Another prostitute has been murdered. Larry wants me to be there.”

Michael saw the look of fear in Jessica’s eyes. “This is your first, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I can handle it.”

“Let me go with you.”

“No, Michael. Please leave now. We have to have this discussion later.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” Michael asked impulsively.

“Fine, Michael. How’s seven.”

“I’ll be here. We can go to the dining room at the Hilton.”

Jessica escorted Michael to the door and felt sad when she closed the door behind him. Anger returned when the past reared its ugly head. She shook her head of the memories and ran upstairs to dress.

Chapter Two

In eight minutes flat, Jessica reached the Singleton Apartments. The whole area swarmed with several police cars. She saw a few news trucks already on the scene. Oh, how she dreaded this. Jessica thought. During college and then law school, she never imagined herself going to a homicide investigation. She imagined being in a well-known firm defending business executives who were accused of the various white collar crimes. Jessica paid the driver. She pushed her way through the several spectators who gathered at the scene. She suddenly remembered what her father told her. Most criminals return to the crime scene. Jessica looked around at all the people and shivered. Could one of these men or women possibly be the killer? She finally made it to the yellow police line where a man in a uniform was standing guard. She tried to go under it when the police officer stopped her.

“Sorry, miss, but you’re gonna have to stand behind the line.”

“I was called here by the District Attorney,” Jessica told him, digging in her purse for her credentials. She showed them to the officer. “I am an Assistant DA. Jessica felt oddly satisfied when she saw his look of embarrassment.

Jessica walked quickly up the stairs. She immediately recognized the scene of the crime. Two uniformed officers stood in front of an open door. Jessica crossed under the yellow police scene warning tape. She held her ID out for the two officers to view. They nodded to her and Jessica walked into the apartment.

Several men and women moved around the apartment performing their duties like a machine. Death was a part of their job. She speculated that their brains were now programmed to accept it. Were they also programmed not to feel?

Jessica decided that their attitude depended upon the number of years they were exposed to such investigations. Some cared, some did not. It was as simple as that. Jessica shivered.

A man with sandy brown hair and a muscular, 6-foot frame approached. His square jaw seemed set in stone. His green eyes sparkled when he approached her. He looked familiar to Jessica.

“Mrs. Wallace,” he greeted. Jessica wasn’t sure if she wanted to place this man’s face because he greeted her with her married name. Suddenly she remembered he was a friend of Jerry’s when he was on the police force.

“Ms. Blake now. And you are?” Jessica asked almost to the point of being rude.

“You don’t remember me?” The man asked feinting hurt.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Jessica answered.

“Rivers, Gage Rivers. I used to be Jerry’s partner.”

Jessica stared at his face for a moment and suddenly recognition crossed her beautiful features. “Yes, of course, Gage. How have you been?”

“Better until recently. What’s Peterson said about this case?”

“I can’t really discuss that with you right now. Only that the MO matches the other murders.”

“If Peterson sent you he must be worried about something,” Gage said, raising his eyebrows with questions.

“Does this victim have the carving?”

“Yes, just like the others.” Gage turned and walked toward the bedroom. Jessica followed behind him. Suddenly, she felt nervous knocks in her belly. She only hoped she could keep herself together when she saw the body.

As she walked in behind Gage, she saw a bright flashing of a camera and quickly closed her eyes from the brightness. Then when she opened her eyes, she saw the body for the first time. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. Behind several men she saw the white foot of a woman. The nails were painted a bright candy apple red, a perfect manicure.

An older man with a gray beard came out of the bathroom and approached Rivers. “The shower is wet,” he said.

“Did you swab for blood evidence in the drain, vacuum for hairs or fibers yet?” Gage asked him.

As the two men exchanged information, Jessica suddenly felt a nagging feeling in her gut. Something was wrong here. She felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up as a shiver coursed through her body. She turned and glanced back at the bed and then she saw it. The nude, dead body of Candi O’Neal. Bright red and purple ligature marks wound around the woman’s white and almost elegant throat. Jessica’s gaze flashed on the woman’s bruised and bloody face. The woman suffered a brutal beating before the killer strangled her. From the looks of her face, Jessica knew that human fists were the weapons. Jessica saw a thin line of blood along the right side of Candi’s neck from right to left and Jessica knew the woman had been taunted by her attacker. The woman’s eyes held blood red lines from burst capillaries caused by the strangulation. The ligature marks were smooth indicating a device other than a rope strangled this woman. The woman’s mouth seemed to be open in and endless scream. Jessica’s gaze followed down past her heavy, surgically enhanced breasts to her flat belly and saw the prominent “Z” carved there. The “Z” felt wrong to her. She studied many photographs of the other prostitute victims only days before and knew instantly that the Z’s formation were not made by the same killer known as “Zorro.”

Gage put a hand on her shoulder to turn Jessica toward him. He thought Jessica could not handle this gruesome scene and offered her some comfort. Hell, no one ever gets used to this brutality. He instead found an intelligent gleam in her off putting, violet eyes.

“The “Z.”

“What about it?” Gage asked, alarmed.

“It was carved by a left-handed person. All the other victim’s carvings were definitely made by a righty.”

* * * * *
Michael Brenner walked into his hotel room at the Hilton and instantly felt alarmed. He stopped at the threshold and looked around the room. Housekeeping would not have entered so soon after check-in. He noticed the position of the vase on the desk. Before he left to see Jessica, he knew the vase sat in the center of the desk. Now, it held its position a little to the left.

Michael reached into his jacket and retrieved his gun. He silently closed the door and stealthily moved toward the bathroom. The door stood slightly ajar. He held the gun in front of him as he checked the bathroom. Michael found no one behind the door nor behind the closed, frosted shower curtain.

His cell phone rang. He jumped slightly, lowered his .45 caliber pistol and answered his phone.

“Brenner.”

“Bro, it’s me.”

“Jerry?”

“Yeap, so what brings you back to town? Wanting my wife again?”

“Ex-wife,” Michael told his brother, much too abruptly.

“Oh, yeah, right. You like ‘em married.”

Michael cursed under his breath and he ran a hand through his short, dark blond hair. “What do you want, Jerry?”

“I had an appointment with Ms. Blake myself this evening and someone decided to get there first. What business do you have with Jessica?”

“I think you know. You also know that you’re the reason she is in danger…again!” Michael told his brother angrily.

“I want them back, Michael.”

“You know I can’t let you have them, Jerry.”

“You don’t even know where they are, do you?” Jerry asked his older brother, daring him.

“Jerry, I’m warning you. Stay away from Jessica. If she is hurt, I will know who to hunt down.”

“I’m hurt, Michael. Do you think I’d actually hurt her?”

“Let’s not pretend anymore Jerry. I saw the bruises.”

Jerry became quiet then. His silence spoke far louder than words.

“If I see you again, Jerry, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Also, you will arrested on site.”

Michael heard a phone click in his ear as Jerry immediately hung up with him. Michael knew Jerry could be dangerous when things do not go his way, especially when there is ten million dollars at stake. He sighed as he replaced his cell phone in the holder on his belt. He took off his sports jacket and hung it around the only chair in the room. He removed his gun holster and set it and the gun on the table. He sat on the bed and opened his cell phone and dialed headquarters.

“Brenner, here. I’ve made contact with Jerry. He’s made contact with Ms. Blake to try to retrieve them.” Michael paused. “Not if I find them first,” he told the other person and disconnected his cell phone. He lay back on the bed and thought how Jessica came to the door clad only in a robe and smiled briefly. God, how he missed her.

* * * * *
Gage practically glared at Jessica with doubt clear in his eyes. He obviously did not want any of his theories second guessed by a woman.

"Are you sure? What do you base your facts on after viewing the body for all of thirty seconds?” Gage asked Jessica, sarcasm clear in his tone.

Jessica suddenly felt so tired and pushed a stray black hairs behind her ear before answering the detective. “Well Detective Rivers, I once watched an episode of, uh, CSI and Grissom pointed out that a carving on a body of this diameter and shape had to be made by a lefty. I will be contacting Grissom ASAP,” Jessica told an enraged Gage sardonically. “I am sure Catherine and Nick can help us, also.”

Gage clenched his right fist as he fought the urge to hit something, anything. He wanted to hit a wall or anything to release the sudden rage he felt toward this preposterous woman.

“Who in hell do you think you're dealing with, lady? I have you know that I have worked homicide for almost ten years and you waltz in here with your notepad, take one look at the body and know within less than a minute this is a copycat or a coverup?” Gage yelled. Several lab technicians moved to the bedroom to witness the scene.

“We will let the coroner decide for us, Rivers. I only made an observation. Look at the wound on her neck. See how the arms are tied to the bed posts. The killer knelt over top of her. To cut the left side of the neck like that he would be left-handed slicing from right to left. Look at the “Z” carving, the killer started from the bottom to the top.”

Gage rolled his eyes. “So!”

The gray haired man, Sawyers interrupted them.

“Yes, Rivers. She’s right. That indicates a left-handed person as well.”

Gage stopped glaring at Jessica and gave Sawyers a look filled with daggers. Sawyers looked downa t the carpeted floor staring at his paper booties. A smirk of satisfaction etched in the older man's face. It's about time someone put Rivers in this place. Sawyers thought to himself.

Jessica moved past Gage then and reached in her purse to pull out her business card. She passed it to the head CSI on the scene, Sawyers. “Peterson wants a set of photographs of the body and scene sent to his office ASAP. Please make sure you get it done, sir.”

“Certainly, Ms. Blake,” Sawyers told Jessica and darted his eyes to Gage. He had no choice but to nod to Sawyers because his hands were tied. When D.A. Peterson demanded something he better get it or he had to answer to his Captain.

“What did you find in the drain?” Jessica asked Sawyers and Gage rolled his eyes and went toward the CSI team gathering fibers on the bed.

“Found some hairs and a few black and red fibers. Of course hair usually occupies a drain. We tested for blood but found no trace.”

Jessica thanked him and then glanced over at Gage and noticed that he wore the disposable booties over his street shoes. Then she glanced at his hands and noticed he did not wear the latex gloves like everyone else in the room.

* * * * *

Jessica did not arrive home until after two a.m. She set her alarm for 8:30 and sat on her bed. She kicked off her black high heel shoes and grabbed her left foot in her hands and rubbed vigorously. Her feet and back ached from the stress of such a long day. How she longed to relax in a hot tub but she knew she might fall asleep and possibly drown. She unbuttoned her blue silk shirt and threw it across a chair and unzipped her black dress pants. Her pantyhose ripped as she to anxiously pulled them down her legs. “Damn,” Jessica muttered. As she took off her bra she remembered the shared kiss with Michael this afternoon. She loved how his hand touched her breast and hardened her nipple with only one touch and squeeze. Jessica shuttered not believing she witnessed a dead body of a prostitute not more than an hour ago and now she sat practically naked on her bed dreaming about making love to a man she could never have. She stood to her full height of five foot three inches and grabbed her night shirt from her top drawer. It was a long pink shirt, varsity like, three times to large for her small frame. She used to wear it back in college. She used to wear in back in college.

Jessica glanced at the top of her dresser. She loved to look at her collection of antique perfume bottles. She had a set from France that her grandfather gave her grandmother when he was in World War II. He was stationed there after the Germans took over parts of Paris. The bottles were fine black cut crystal and held beautiful, ornate silver tops. Another bottle held her attention. This bottle came from her father after a trip to Japan. The ceramic hand painted bottle had small blue flowers with vines around the bottom. A hinged silver closing adorned the top.

She turned on her bedside lamp and climbed into her queen sized bed. She bought her bed on a whim one day. After sleeping in a dorm with a twin bed for many years, Jessica decided to splurge when she purchased her first real bed. She found a beautiful sleigh bed in Pottery Barn and knew she had to buy it. It cost her over two thousand dollars but she felt it was worth every penny. The mattress seemed to hug the delicate curves of her body as she settled against her pillows. Jessica felt so exhausted but after she reached over to turn off her lamp she found her mind full of many thoughts. Sometimes she could not turn off her mind when her body craved sleep. Jessica sighed, reached over and to turn on her touch lamp. The latest novel by Dean Koontz called to her from her bedside table. She picked it up and immediately lost herself in a new world of intrigue and suspense.