The Killing Ground: A Foxx Files Thriller Read online

  “I’m going to do the rape kit next. Wanna stick around?” Sylvia watched for her reply behind her glasses. “I know we won’t get anything, but I have to do it anyway.”

  Rebecca’s belt vibrated loudly, and she pulled her pager out checking the display. “Nah, I got to make a call. Just call me when you finish.”

  Sylvia nodded, her attention already focused on the victim again.

  Rebecca shook her head as she walked out. It took a special person to be a Medical Examiner. She knew without a doubt it was a calling that she would never have answered. Despite her hard—ass exterior, the hardest part of the job was separating herself from the victims, trying not to figure out their story. She knew she couldn’t look at a person lying on the table and detach herself. It wasn't in her make up.

  Rebecca pulled her phone out and dialed the number on her pager. “Foxx.”

  “Detective, it’s Special Agent Gray. We tracked down Elizabeth Hudson’s husband.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, Special Agent Gray.” Her voice was razor sharp. “But I was unaware that the FBI was tracking anyone down.”

  “I just assumed that given the wide scope of the FBI’s reach and your full plate, you would appreciate some assistance.” Jordan hoped her tone didn’t sound as sarcastic as she felt.

  “You need to stop assuming that we need the FBI to swoop in and save the day. I can assure you that my team can handle this.” Rebecca’s tone had tempered some, but she was still on edge. No matter how long she had been at it, no matter how good a detective she was, there was always some invisible voice whispering in her ear that she just wasn’t good enough. Usually it was some dick reminding her that she was a woman, and women are never as good as men. Today, it was Jordan’s voice taunting her. The FBI had managed to do what the CDD hadn’t. It tracked down Elizabeth Hudson’s missing husband. It was just another reminder she had grown up amongst her father and brothers, who somehow always managed to be better than she was. It wasn't that they competed with her. It was her own insecurity and need to be something she wasn't. Rather than accept that she could succeed as a woman, she had lived in a self-imposed shadow of doubt and some unattainable goal that haunted her every day.

  “So, does that mean you don’t want to know where he is?” Jordan could tell she was baiting her, and she didn’t really want to stoop that low, but damn it, that woman got under her skin. Did she want to catch the killer or not? And something as simple as tracking someone down shouldn’t raise her ire as much as it did.

  Rebecca let out a loud sigh. “Tell me what you got.”

  “Well, I’ll assume you already know his name.”

  The smile in Jordan’s voice was obvious, and it at least got Rebecca to loosen up some. “Yes, I do." Rebecca answered smugly. "Richard. Works for some law firm here in the city.”

  “Yep. Apparently, the law firm he works for handles a lot of overseas clients. He travels a lot, and my people picked him up at O’Hare. Guy was getting ready to fly to Singapore.”

  “Interesting considering his wife was killed last night.” Rebecca’s sixth sense was starting to act up, a sign that maybe she finally had a lead.

  “Exactly what we thought.” Jordan concurred quickly.

  Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose, her brain working on overtime. “Did he happen to mention where he was or why he didn’t answer his phone?”

  “Oh, he was very forthcoming with that. Had an early flight out of O’Hare, and apparently he hates traffic, so he spends the night at a hotel near the airport. Didn’t answer his phone because it was off.”

  The hair on the back of Rebecca’s neck was standing on end. “That’s convenient. Did you tell him about Elizabeth?”

  “Nope, I figured you would want to see his face when we told him.” Jordan had thrown we in hoping that maybe, just maybe, with the help she and the FBI were able to give in tracking down Richard Hudson, Rebecca would return the favor and let her sit in when they told him about his wife.

  “We?” Rebecca chuckled sarcastically. “You just think your part of my team now, huh?”

  “Wishful thinking.” It was true. She was wishing she could spend more time with the enigmatic Detective Foxx. She wanted it to be about the case only, but a more personal reason was starting to creep into her consciousness. “Besides, it might help to have backup.”

  “And why might I need backup? Detective Jones has covered my ass this long, and I’m still alive.”

  “Because of the second part of the news I wanted to tell you. Richard Hudson has a rap sheet.”

  “Whoa…what do you mean?” Rebecca’s tone belied her disbelief. “We didn’t find anything.”

  “And now do you see why I’m important to you?” Jordan asked smugly.

  Rebecca begrudgingly admitted to herself that maybe having the FBI around wasn’t too bad. “So what did you find on him?”

  “You didn’t find it because his record has been expunged. Dad evidently had money and knew someone in the DA’s office. Apparently, this guy has a bit of a temper. Put his ex—wife in the hospital a couple of times. She tried to file for divorce, but he messed her up really badly. Bad enough that she filed for a restraining order.”

  The wheels in Rebecca’s mind were spinning rapidly. “Think we can talk to her?”

  “I wish.” Jordan said ruefully. “She died six years ago.”

  Rebecca's heart stopped. “How did she die?”

  “Funny you ask.” Jordan’s tone suggested it was anything but funny. “Attacked in an alley, had her throat sliced. Killer was never found.”

  Rebecca’s interest peaked. The same MO as their current perp. Certainly it wasn’t a coincidence. “And Mr. Hudson?”

  “Alibied out. Can you believe that?” Jordan's incredulous tone suggested she believed that his alibi had been of a very convenient and much too suspicious nature to be a coincidence.

  “Nothing surprises me nowadays.” Rebecca grabbed her coat off a chair. She tucked her phone under her chin and shoved her arms into her coat.

  “So, you wanna meet me at headquarters?” Jordan asked hopefully. “I think it’s about time we tell Mr. Hudson what an unlucky fellow he is.”

  “Sure. Will Detective Riley be joining us?” For some reason, Rebecca had the oddest feeling of wanting to be alone with Jordan. The thought of Detective Riley joining them seemed like more of an inconvenience then a benefit.

  “Not today.” Jordan wasn’t quite sure what to make of the question. She didn’t think Rebecca was interested in him or any other man, for that matter, but maybe she read it wrong. “Let’s just say he’s covering both our asses while I am working on this case. I think he doesn’t mind not being buried in this case anyway. He doesn't do blood and guts too well.”

  Rebecca’s husky laugh came through the phone and sent shivers up and down Jordan’s spine. “Yeah, I kind of gathered that from his reaction last night. Jonesy is following up on another lead as well.”

  A thought struck Jordan, and she took a leap of faith. "Since it's just the two of us, how about I pick you up?"

  Rebecca almost declined, but on a whim and in the interest of time, she accepted. Twenty minutes later, Rebecca was ensconced in the soft leather of Jordan’s Nissan 370Z. Richard Hudson was being detained at the airport, and Jordan was chomping at the bit to see his face when he learned his wife had been murdered. She stole a sideways glance at Rebecca and wasn’t surprised to see her jaw muscles flexing uncontrollably. “Listen, I know I have a bad habit of butting in where I don’t belong, but I figured in light of our shared desire to catch this guy, you might be willing to overlook that.”

  Rebecca’s fist flexed into a tight ball. “It isn’t that. I’m talking myself into behaving when we get there. I’m so ready to catch the fucker who is doing this, that I’m afraid anyone who even smells a little suspicious might catch the brunt of my anger.”

  “Temper, temper, Detective Foxx.” Jordan directed her car onto the highway and instead of
merging into the traffic, shot across several lanes and let the speedometer rest at eighty—five miles an hour. “I’ve been doing the same thing. Ever since I found out that Julie had been attacked, I’ve been fighting to keep this case from becoming too personal.”

  Rebecca finally turned to her and searched her face. “How’s that working for you? ‘Cause so far, I’m failing miserably. I want to slice this guy’s dick off and shove it down his throat.”

  “Wow, tell me how you really feel.” Jordan’s tone was teasing, but she felt the same way. She followed her comment up by balling up her own fists.

  Rebecca smiled evilly. “I can’t help it. I’m tired of seeing the same thing day in and day out. Some guy goes on one bad date and decides to start taking it out on random strangers. Then more times than not, he pleads insanity and spends a few years in some cushy mental facility before he gets released back out on the streets and starts the whole thing all over again.”

  “Not this time.” Jordan’s tone held an unspoken warning. In all her years, particularly those spent surviving on the streets, she didn't fail. She wouldn't allow herself to fail her boss, and especially not Julie.

  As much as Rebecca wanted to find him and gun him down herself, her sworn duty as an officer of the law required her to apprehend him, build the strongest case possible and then trust that justice would be served. “You can’t go all rogue on me, Special Agent Gray. I’ve got my superiors to answer to and having to tell them that some hot—headed Fibbie shot my UNSUB in cold blood isn’t going to go over well.”

  Jordan was silent for several minutes, not acknowledging the comment. She wasn’t a hothead, didn’t shoot from the hip. That wasn’t her style. She was methodical, cold, calculated. That’s what kept her alive all these years. She also didn’t defend herself to anyone, least of all a Detective with a chip on her shoulder.

  Rebecca could sense she had hit a nerve, and she felt immediately guilty. Not enough to give her an apology, but enough to try to smooth things over. As much as she resented the FBI’s involvement, she did appreciate what help they had given her and jeopardizing the relationship didn’t seem as important as it once had. “Listen, since we are going to be working together pretty closely for a while, I’m going to do something I don’t do…ever. Call me Rebecca.”

  It wasn’t much of an apology, especially since Jordan had already done away with formalities...at least in her head. Jordan quirked an eyebrow, not sure that she had heard her correctly, but when she saw the smile on Rebecca’s face, she knew she had heard right. It was the first genuine smile she had seen from the woman since they met. “I’d like that.” When she said it, she meant it. It was one step closer to getting to know the mysterious redhead sitting next to her. “And you can still call me Jordan.”

  “So, Jordan, how do you want to handle this?” It was another attempt by Rebecca to smooth things over, one that surprised even herself. Normally, she could give a rat's ass what anyone else's opinion was. However, here she was, asking for Jordan's, and if she didn't know any better, she was willing to accept her input, not just trying to appease her.

  Jordan swallowed a lump in her throat. She was shocked for the second time in as many minutes. First, they were on a first-name basis, and now Rebecca wanted to talk about what was happening between them. “Well, I don’t know for sure, I’ve never dated anyone I worked with.”

  Rebecca’s laughter filled the car.

  “What?” The look of genuine surprise on Jordan’s face was priceless.

  “You thought I meant how we would handle something between us?” Rebecca wiped tears from her eyes. “There is no something between us, Agent. Get that through your thick skull. What I meant was how do you want to handle the Hudson thing?”

  “Oh.” Jordan couldn’t think of any response that would make her faux pas any less embarrassing. “How about I just be your wingman? Let you take the lead.”

  The corner of Rebecca’s mouth turned up slightly. Jordan was good. She could tell that Rebecca wanted to be in command, and she was content to stand by and let her take the lead. “I think that’s a good idea. Just watch him. If he so much as flinches the wrong way, you cover me.”

  The drive to O’Hare was completely ignored during their conversation, and Jordan had pulled into the loading zone and flashed her badge before Rebecca knew they had even stopped driving.

  When they walked into the room, Richard Hudson jumped up and started pointing angrily. “It’s about fucking time. Maybe you can tell me why I’m being detained?”

  Rebecca's eyes met Jordan’s, and they exchanged a knowing glance. The rumors of his temper had not been exaggerated. “Mr. Hudson, please have a seat.”

  “I’ve been sitting for two hours.” He started pacing the room. “Now somebody start talking. I know my rights, and you have no authority to keep me here.”

  Rebecca didn’t budge, her eyes held his until he realized that he wasn’t going to get any explanation until he cooperated.

  Rebecca took the seat across from him, and Jordan opted to stand in the corner of the room, her behavior almost that of disinterest to the casual observer. However, her focus was on him, and she had already taken in details that many might miss. In his agitated state, he wrung his hands together with enough force to drain the blood from his fingers. He also had a nervous tick that made his right eye twitch. Despite being directly across from Rebecca, his eyes darted nervously between them. All of those could be signs of guilt, or merely the machinations of an innocent man who had been held up and provided no details about his sudden detaining. Time would tell.

  “I’m Detective Foxx and this is Special Agent Gray.” She pulled a folder out and left it on the table unopened. “I’m sorry to have kept you here.”

  He looked as though he wanted to say something about being detained, but thought better of it when he saw the look in Rebecca’s eyes. “What’s going on? Why am I being held here?”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife was murdered last night.” Rebecca’s gaze was trained on his face, looking for a sign of guilt, for anything that seemed out of the ordinary for a man who just learned his wife had been murdered. If there was a tell, he hid it well.

  “What? Oh my God.” Richard Hudson’s mouth opened and closed. His eyes registered shocked disbelief. “No, no, not my Elizabeth.” He buried his head in his hands. “What about…what about my baby?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hudson, the baby did not survive.” Rebecca didn’t think it was a good time to bring up the fact that the baby had been taken.

  The sound of soft sobs filled the room, and Jordan used the opportunity to study him. The sobs sounded convincing, but then she remembered he had done this once before. Grief could be faked. She had seen it done in the past.

  “How did it happen?” His sobs quieted to soft inhales of breath and an occasional hiccup.

  “Are you certain you want to know?” Rebecca voiced her concerns, not sure that he would be up for hearing details of her murder. That was assuming he was innocent and not the UNSUB they were looking for.

  “She’s my wife, Detective Foxx, I need to know how she died.” His eyes held hers, and Rebecca knew that she had to tell him. He needed to know as a means to move forward.

  “Her throat was cut and she bled out.”

  “Is that it?” His hands wrung together slowly, as if steeling himself to hear the news.

  “I know what’s been all over the news. Was that all that happened?” His eyes pleaded with her for the truth. It was at this particular moment that Jordan started to doubt his act. Was he interested in how his wife had been attacked because he loved her and he needed to know, or was he a psychotic killer who knew the details and got off on them being repeated back to him?

  “No.” Rebecca looked over her shoulder, her eyes asking Jordan a silent question. She interpreted her nod as a sign to tell him everything. “She was raped and the killer took the baby.”

  Richard Hudson looked as t
hough he might vomit. Anger flared in his nostrils, and Rebecca could see in his eyes someone capable of murder, maybe not his wife, but someone.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” At that moment, she did feel sorry for him.

  “I want to see her.” His tone was cold, and she sensed a small amount of the man that had a prior arrest record for physical violence.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” It was true. Rebecca didn’t think it was a good idea to show him Elizabeth’s body. As angry as he was now, she knew seeing his wife lying on a cold autopsy table might bring out the devil in him.

  Richard Hudson jumped up, and his chair slammed back into the wall. He leaned over the table and stuck his finger in Rebecca’s face angrily. Before she could even react, Jordan had come around the table and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him back roughly.

  “Mr. Hudson, while I can appreciate your grief, you will do well to remember that assaulting an officer isn’t a good way to get what you want.” Her voice was low and even, and she left no doubt that she was willing to do whatever it took to see that Rebecca was okay.

  “Agent!” When Jordan didn’t pull away, Rebecca shouted again. “Agent Gray!” Rebecca slammed a folder down on the table loudly. “I can take care of myself. If Mr. Hudson wants to see his wife, I’m sure we can arrange it.”

  She wasn’t sure what made her agree to it, especially after he had thrown himself at her. Something in his eyes made her change her mind. She wanted to see how he reacted when he saw the body. Perhaps then she would be able to judge his guilt or innocence. She was buying into the whole grieving husband act, and she didn’t want to be wrong.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll have one of my uniforms escort you to the morgue.”

  He merely nodded and sat down in the chair dejectedly.

  Rebecca followed Jordan out of the room. “You want to tell me what the hell that was?”

  “He came at you.” Jordan knew she sounded defensive, but Rebecca had accused her like she was the bad guy.