Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
White sucked his teeth and his dark brows knitted. He had a ruddy complexion, as well as thick dark brown hair that was graying at the temples. His mustache extended over the top of his upper lip, and his light blue eyes were small and sparkly. They glowed with experience.
He picked up his glass of Jack Daniels, fingertips grasping the rim, and twirled it around in a slow circle.
“So many people claimed to see him at the beach… looking suspicious. They described him so well, and he’s not the type of guy, physically,” he shrugged, “that ya see every day. He’s a tall Russian-American. He’s fucking huge. Like a professional wrestler. Solid. All those damn tattoos, too. He stands out.”
“That’s true, but they didn’t have some of the details, and of course, after looking at the footage, it was dark. Mr. Raven wasn’t on any of those surveillance tapes, on any night of the murders. Now sure, he could have done the bulk of the crimes out of video shot, but that’s highly unlikely.”
He nodded in agreement.
“You mentioned the other suspect on the phone, and I agree with you about Lincoln Torres. I did some more digging, too. He just is a bit of a slimeball, but with his impairments, there’s no way.”
“Right. I think perhaps his past made him more susceptible to speculation. He has a kidnapping charge, DV, a couple sexual assaults, things like that. Despite that though, he doesn’t match the profile much, either. His aggressions and crimes during his younger years were mainly against women. Then, that leaves Ethan…”
White reached for a few peanuts in a bowl and tossed them in his mouth.
“Do you still feel the same about him?” he asked.
“I do. Something is off with him. I just don’t know what it is.” She drummed her fingers against the bar table, now looking into the mirrored wall at the back of the bar. “Doesn’t mean he’s a murderer, per se, but he’s definitely someone worth investigating further. So, I think we should look at other avenues, too—someone we may have missed adding to the list—but not write him off just yet.”
White nodded, then ran his hand across his jaw.
“I haven’t been able to sleep, Porsche. We’ve got to close these cases. I look at the photos of the crime scenes so much now, they’re etched in my head. Nightmares.”
She nodded in understanding. “The murders look personal… like crimes of passion. And then to toss them out on a beach to be discovered points to the fact of wanting to humiliate these victims. Leave them somewhere peaceful and pretty, but have them be a mess. Clothing intact, but bruised up from head to toe, strangled or stabbed to death. Brutal…” I want to know what these victims have in common besides their sex. According to my mentor, Humphrey, there has to be something else… Most were drug addicts, but a couple of them I believe weren’t. They are all different ages, too, but the majority are over twenty-two and under forty-one years of age. They look nothing alike, except they are all White men. What ties them together?
They sat on their respective bar stools as the music played, going silent for a long while. Gary Numan’s, ‘Cars.’
“What made you want to join the force, Porsche, then quit after becoming a lead detective in homicide?”
She took a deep breath, picked up her drink, and sipped.
“It all started with my love of reading. Mystery books, to be exact. Those were riddles to me. Better than dolls and playing house. Then, that graduated to true crime. Then, there’s my father… a Boston police officer. I looked up to him. Saw him as a hero.” She spotted her reflection once again and noted the sad smile on her face. “I decided to follow in his footsteps once I was a junior in high school. My mind was made up. I went to college for criminal justice, and I knew I was going into the police academy right afterwards. My mother didn’t want me to. Hell, he didn’t want me to, either.”
She placed the glass back down and shook her head. “But I had to. It was my calling. My mother still to this day says I should’ve been a lawyer. Maybe she was right, but I got bitten by this bug, and it won’t let me go.” The glass felt slippery from the condensation, so she set it down and dabbed it with a cocktail napkin.
“Why’d you call it quits, become a PI, and come up here to my part of town?” White’s brow rose as he spoke.
“…You are forever changed when you are a homicide detective. I had to leave right then or I’d never leave, Captain. It didn’t help that my father had passed away and my marriage had fallen apart. I had a lot going on.”