Killer Love

  Contents

  Summary

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

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  Summary

  I think there are two ways to look at my husband Lucas. Some find him scary. He’s big, broad, and works with the dead, but, to me, he’s the man I fell in love with the first time I saw him. He’s the man who makes me dinner, rubs my feet, and makes love to me until the sun washes away the stars.

  I know there’s a side of him that he keeps from me. Another woman might be suspicious that he always comes home freshly showered or that he takes frequent business trips out of town. Yet, I trust him because he’d never betray me. His entire purpose is to protect me. Deep down, I know what he’s doing. Deep down, I know that he’s maintaining the balance between good and bad. Other people might not agree with his actions, but for me, our love will always be killer.

  Prologue

  “Please let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong. I saw—no I heard something. Like a scream—.”

  “And you went to investigate it,” I finish for the man lying on the plastic sheeting. His hands are tied behind his back with his own cotton socks serving as a barrier to prevent chafing. The restraints are only a precaution. As always, the drug I administered renders him largely paralyzed. I’ve done this long enough that I’m getting good with the dosages. When I first started out, I used too little and my prey escaped. I had to run him down and finish him on the spot instead of carrying out my plan. That was a disappointment. After that debacle, I used too much and the two men died. Another disappointment but with time and experimentation, I’ve become familiar with my tools.

  “Exactly. Exactly. I came to investigate and there was this woman there.”

  “You didn’t know who she was.”

  “Right. I didn’t know who she was and I didn’t touch her. I swear. I swear.” He babbles the last word, spittle spraying out with the first consonants so it sounds more like he’s saying he sweats, which is true. Perspiration slides down his cheeks to mingle with his tears. He’s starting to look like his victim, but he’s not experiencing enough pain. That won’t happen until the drug wears off, which should be in a few minutes. I shift the stainless steel needle nose pliers to the right so that there is precisely a half inch between my instruments.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I did.”

  “Then let me go. Please. I’ll do anything. You need money? I’ve got it.”

  Not anymore, I think. An hour ago, before I put this man in the back of my van, I drained his accounts. He won’t need the money after I’m done with him.

  I pick up the scalpel and crouch down close to him. “Can you feel your toes?”

  “M-m-my toes?” he stammers.

  “Or your fingertips? Either is fine.”

  He nods slowly and then faster. “Yes. I can.”

  “Good. I want it to hurt.”

  I roll him over and get to work.

  Chapter One

  Lucas

  “Hey, doc, it’s a grisly one,” Officer Roan informs me when I reach the makeshift crime scene barrier which consists of yellow tape stretched between a cop car side mirror and the small tree that looks like it will break with the slightest resistance. For funsies, I pull on the tape. Officer Roan leaps forward. “Ah, sir, please the tape isn’t”—the yellow barrier pulls away from the mirror and floats to the ground—“secure,” he finishes. A faint hint of vomit wafts toward me. The kid must’ve gotten sick. I pat him on the back before stepping over the yellow marker on the ground and proceed to join the two detectives kneeling on the ground. Between them is a collection of half-eaten body parts—mostly fingers and toes.

  “Doesn’t look like you need me here,” I remark. It’s obvious the body has been dead for a few days. “Your victim is indeed deceased.”

  “Ha ha,” Detective Lee fake laughs. “We still need to know time and method of death.”

  “10:00 o’clock pm on Saturday and shock.”

  “It’s creepy how close you guess these,” Detective Sanchez says as she peels off her gloves and gets to her feet.

  “Years of experience,” I drawl.

  “I guess. It’s still creepy. No offense.”

  “None taken. Have you had the crime scene photographer take the pictures?”

  “Yeah.” She rolls her head around her shoulders. “It’s all done. Nothing’s been moved so if you want to take some of your own, feel free.”

  I take the photos I need, cataloging the body parts. The wild animals have done a number on them. It would be hard to precisely ascertain what damage was done by the perpetrator and what wounds Mother Nature inflicted.

  “Whoever did this is one sick bastard,” Lee notes. The cracking of his gum is accented by a few birds chirping. Animals aren’t disturbed by dead bodies. Only the humans.

  “It reminds me of something.” Sanchez taps her chin.

  I still and pretend to be focused on a scrap of evidence.

  “Like what?” her partner asks.

  “Dunno. It’s just bugging me.”

  Sanchez is a good detective with the instincts of a bloodhound.

  “Let me know if you remember,” I mention casually. “I could look for similarities.”

  “Yeah, I will. I’m sure it will come to me.”

  “Always does,” Lee says cheerfully.

  “I’ll keep the body cold,” I suggest.

  “Nah. No sense in waiting for me. Besides, your reports are so detailed that it’s almost like you were there. If there’s any similarity to a previous case, I’m sure you’ll note it. Hey, Lee. Did you buy the chief’s wife a gift?”

  “For what?”

  “It’s her birthday this weekend.”

  “Shit. I can’t remember my birthday, let alone the chief’s wife’s. What are you thinking? I don’t want to spend more than fifty.”

  “Fifty? From both of us.”

  I leave the two squabbling and return to my car. On my way back to the road, I stop and pull out a box of mints for the young police officer.

  “Thanks,” he says. The tips of his ears are pink.

  “Don’t ever be embarrassed that you find death distasteful.”

  He seems encouraged. As I’m driving away I can see him joking with Detective Sanchez. It’s always good to keep your humanity.

  I press the dial button on my steering wheel. After a couple rings, Angel’s voice fills my car.

  “Are we still on for dinner?” she asks.

  “I’m on my way. Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No. I got off early so I’m gonna head to the restaurant. I should be there in five minutes. I’ll get the table.”

  “All right, darling, I’ll see you soon.”

  Like I said, always important to keep a bit of humanity in your life.

  Chapter Two

  Angel

  I pull off my glasses, putting them away in the case before rubbing my head. My head hurts. I had no idea when I decided I wanted to be a court reporter how hard some of my days would be. Sitting inside of a courtroom for hours and oftentimes hearing horror stories can tak
e a toll on a person.

  I’ve always been fascinated with all aspects of the law. I didn’t have a desire to be a lawyer or a cop so I decided on a career as a court reporter. It allows me to be in the mix of things but not really. I just hadn’t realized that it would be so stressful.

  It is even worse when you know a person that should be behind bars is allowed to go free. It’s hard to watch these criminals get away with their crimes knowing there is nothing you can do about it.

  I don’t know how Chad does it but the man never loses a case. I have no idea how he can live with himself. I’m guessing he finds comfort sleeping on the pile of money he receives every night. I often think that he’s worse than the men he represents in court. I shouldn’t judge him because that’s the way our judicial system is set up, but from what I’ve heard, he displays the same tactics outside of the courtroom.

  I’m a people watcher by nature. While it may seem as though I’m only recording the words that are going on in court, I’m also taking everything in around me. I’m watching each movement and facial expression. Especially those of the jury.

  It’s how I know when a case is going to be dismissed. You learn a lot by watching people. They say people are innocent until proven guilty but in my eyes most of the men Chad represents are guilty whether it’s proven or not.

  Today was one of those unbearable days for me. I never do well on the days the jury returns their verdict. I know I’m supposed to be impartial but it’s hard to remain that way. I could tell that this not guilty verdict affected Judge Barnes too.

  I could feel the anger rolling off of her when the jury came back with it. Her hands were tied at this point. I had to type the words down, and each keystroke felt like a slap in the face to the victim. Even as my fingers moved across the keyboard, it felt surreal.

  He killed his wife. I know it. I also know that he killed the woman that he was married to before this one. That little fact wasn't allowed to be brought up in court. I have no doubt that he’ll kill his next, too, if he isn’t stopped. When he does commit his next murder, would it make Chad guilty as well because he helped the man get away with this one? It would have never happened if Chad hadn’t represented him. It is almost like he is acting as the driver of the getaway car.

  I scream when a hard knock comes down onto my window. I look over to see Chad standing there in his expensive suit. Not that I am one to judge. I don’t make anything near what he does but my husband is good with money. I have the luxury of owning the finer things because of it. I reluctantly roll down my window. I avoid Chad as much as I can, but the man is always finding a reason to talk to me.

  “Hey.” I force a smile.

  “Heading out early?” He gives me that smile that works well on jurors. It only pisses me off. He’d never know that, though. I’ve learned to keep my face as neutral as possible.

  “Yeah. Meeting the husband for dinner.” My smile turns into a real one. Anytime I bring up my husband, Chad’s smile always drops away. Judge Barnes—Mary—says he has a thing for me. She, too, cut out early. Neither one of us wasted any time getting out of that courtroom today.

  “I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab a quick bite.”

  “Chad,” I start. Why does he have to make this awkward? Not only does he know that I’m married by the giant ring that I wear on my finger but he also knows who my husband is. Everyone knows who Lucas is.

  The sexy medical examiner that some think is a tad creepy. I get it. Cutting up people and dissecting their bodies is strange but he is doing his job and finding out how people died. He is the best in the state. My husband knows what he is doing. I bet if they’d found Mr. Andrew’s wife, whose body is still missing, my husband would have nailed Mr. Andrews to his permanent new jail cell.

  “I want to talk to you about a job.” I jerk back. There go my stellar skills at keeping myself neutral.

  “I really have to go. I told my husband I’d meet him in a few minutes. If I’m not there he’ll worry.”

  “I still can’t believe you married a man who cuts up bodies for a living.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him what I think of his career choice, but I don’t. It’s not professional. Still, I can’t help but take a small jab.

  “I’d keep in mind what my husband does for a living.” I roll up my window, not wanting to hear whatever else he has to say. I know it will kill him that he didn't get the last word. I shift my car into reverse and pull out of my spot. The only silver lining to today is that I got out earlier than usual. Lucas always makes me feel better. I know I shouldn’t tell him some of the things that I do about work but I tell him everything anyway.

  The man is my rock. He’s been that since he came strolling into the courtroom my first day on the job. I’d hung on his every word as he put a man behind bars that belonged there. To me he isn’t creepy but fascinating. He is the hero of the story. Speaking for the victims when their killers had tried to silence them forever. He is their voice and I love him for it.

  Though many might not agree.

  Chapter Three

  Lucas

  The dip in Angel’s forehead in that sweet spot between her brows is deeper than usual, which means something’s bothering her.

  “Bad day at work?” I ask after we order--angel hair pasta with shrimp for her and lasagna for me.

  “Chad Gilcrest is getting another murderer off. I really hate him. He doesn’t even care about guilt or innocence, just about whether the person he’s defending can pay his ridiculous attorney fee.” She accepts the freshly baked bread that I tore off for her and shoves a piece in her mouth, chewing angrily.

  “He’s an asshole,” I agree. While defense lawyers play an important part in the system, there is something off about Chad. I haven’t caught him doing anything wrong other than cheating on his various girlfriends, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a secret in his basement he doesn’t want anyone to see.

  “The husband totally did it. I know he did.” She leans forward. “Do you know what he said he was doing at the time she died?”

  “What?” I break off another piece of bread for her and lay it on her plate.

  “He said he was walking the dog. He brought out his watch logs and showed how he walked this route along the river that he always takes, every day at dusk.”

  Every day at dusk, hmmm? “Did he have a lot of routines?”

  She chews on the bread for a moment, thinking back over the evidence. She begins to nod slowly. “Yeah, he kind of did. He said he always woke up at 5:45 a.m. and would make coffee. He drank one and a half cups and saved the other half for an afternoon break. He got his mail during his afternoon break and would go through it for fifteen minutes. There were some other details about how he always used the same fork and knife. He was creepy. Very creepy. I can’t believe the jury let him off.”

  “Sounds very precise.” Like me. I like my socks folded a certain way, a precise amount of starch in my shirt, and my tools to be in exactly the right order, spaced only a half inch apart. How much does that irritate Angel?

  She must read my mind because she reaches out to squeeze my forearm. “It’s cute when you do it because you’re not a murderous serial killer like this dude is.”

  I take her fingers and lace them with mine. “Serial killer?” If she only knew...which she doesn’t because if she did, my very law-abiding wife would be horrified and never want me to touch her again.

  “Yeah. He killed his first wife but the judge couldn’t let that evidence in. Said it was too harmful and didn’t have enough value. I think the jury would’ve voted to convict if they’d known that this was the second wife he’d offed. And since he’s done away with two of his wives, that makes him a serial killer, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. I agree.” I put her fingers to my mouth and place a gentle kiss against them before having to move aside for the newly arrived food.

  “If only the body had been found. You would have nailed that guy’s ass.”
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  “Definitely.”

  She lapses into a frustrated silence and stares at her plate. Usually, I wouldn’t take any action so soon after yesterday’s work but I foresee a business trip in my future. Angel won’t be able to sleep well until it’s resolved. The injustice will eat at her. This is why I do what I do. Someone has to keep the balance. A crime committed needs to be punished or people suffer, and in this case, my wife suffers and that’s not acceptable.

  I can’t make her happy every moment of the day. I know that’s not possible, but I do see it as my duty to remove as many obstacles in her path as I can. This is one bump that can be taken care of easily.

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she announces, picking up her fork. “How was your day?”

  “Not worth talking about while we eat.” She’s not squeamish but she doesn’t need the gory details either.

  Angel wrinkles her nose adorably. “That bad, huh? I’m sorry I brought up the case.”

  “Don’t be. I always want to hear your stories. You have a deposition tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but it’s just a boring motor vehicle accident. It’s with that Smith lawyer and she’s pretty efficient. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours there and then a few more transcribing it.”

  The rest of her week is busy as well.

  “I’m going to have to go out of town for a few days. No more than forty-eight hours, I think. There’s a case down in Burdock County that sheriff wants me to look into.”