Heads Will Roll – Chapter Nineteen

NOT EDITED

Rick and Bo beat Bridget and Jeff to the lake, but unfortunately for everyone, Kathy had beaten all of them. Rick climbed out of the cruiser, slamming the door behind him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Kathy said, leaned back against the hood of her rental car. “I know how to listen to a police scanner, Rick.”

Bo climbed out of the car, clearing his throat. “I’ll let you know if it’s her.”

“Thank you,” Rick whispered. Bo patted him on the back before heading out onto the ice. Rick’s gaze shifted back to Kathy. “I want the notebook you stole from Bo.”

Kathy chuckled, shaking her head. “Little shit. There was a time where the little fucker wouldn’t have had the guts to tell you that.”

“That’s your problem, Kathy. You expect the whole world to just roll over and let you walk all over them. Everyone has a breaking point on how long they can tolerate letting you do that to them. Bo’s at his.”

“You barely know the kid, and you’ve already become one of his groupies.”

“What the hell is it that you hate so much about him?” Rick asked, looking up as Bo gave him a thumbs-up from the body. It wasn’t Bonnie. Thank God. Rick returned the thumbs-up before looking back over at Kathy. “I mean, genuinely, what could he have possibly done to piss you off so much?”

“I just don’t think people like him should be given a million opportunities to prove they aren’t incompetent.”

“People like him?” Rick echoed. “What, autistic? Because that’s what he very likely is. Autistic. You think his mind working differently than yours means he should, what, be locked away in a mental asylum for the rest of his life?”

Kathy lifted a shoulder. “If the straight jacket fits.”

“I’m sure you know my youngest boy is autistic, Kathy.”

“You think I care enough about your kids to know? Or to give a shit?” Kathy asked.

“Jesus Christ, Kathy. You’re so damn lucky that Jamal is forced to continue caring for you. You do not deserve it. Or this job.”

Kathy snorted. “I also couldn’t care less what you think I deserve, Rick.” She pulled a flask from her pocket and took a sip before tucking it back into her jacket. “Princess’s notebook is in the back,” she said before walking toward the body on the ice.

Rick rolled his eyes, choosing not to even dignify that with a response. He pulled open the back door of her rental car, finding Bo’s notebook haphazardly tossed on the floor. Once it was safely tucked away on the passenger seat of his cruiser, Rick locked the doors and started toward Bo and, unfortunately, Kathy.

Out on the middle of the ice, Bo didn’t even have to turn to know the footsteps he heard were Kathy’s and not Rick’s. “Did you get tired of harassing Rick and decide it was my turn?”

“Something like that,” Kathy said. “What do you think you know about him?”

Briefly, Bo lifted his gaze to her face. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to answer that for you, especially without any of my deputies here.”

“They don’t like you as a person, Austen. You know that, don’t you? You are nothing but a convenient tool to everyone who has ever been around you.”

“If you think you’re giving me some amazing revelation about that, you’re wrong. I have long since accepted that I’m a tool to solve crimes. Little more, little less. I’m fine with that.”

“Mm. I’m sure.” Kathy squatted down beside him as a car door slammed at the edge of the lake. Bo didn’t have to turn his head to know that was Bridget. “You want to know how I found out where you were?”

“I honestly don’t care, though I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“I went to the East Department, talked to that Black detective you like so much. What’s his name, Dallas?” she asked. “He told me you and Bridget had gone to Ellepath. He’d been upset at first, upset that you took her instead of him, but do you know how he feels about it now?”

Bo’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t help himself. He lowered his camera and lifted his eyes to her face. “How?”

One corner of Kathy’s mouth lifted, and a sickening feeling settled deep in his stomach. “He couldn’t be happier that you’re gone, Austen. He told me he completely forgot what it was like to work without his freaky little shadow following him around everywhere. Staring at him. Watching him. Touching him. He’s considering transferring departments altogether once you come back.”

“Stand the hell up and get the fuck out of my crime scene, Baker!” Bridget shouted from across the ice.

Kathy grabbed Bo’s shoulder. “Do you really think he doesn’t know about the way you look at him? The way you long for him? God, is he ever thankful to get a break from having to cater to your queer little ass at every turn just to make sure you don’t fuck him over on a case because he doesn’t want to touch your dick.”

Bridget grabbed Kathy’s shoulder and yanked her back. “You call him that again, Baker, I fucking dare you. I will kick your ass.”

Kathy rose to her feet with a laugh. “I’d like to see you try. Cow.”

Before any of the three men on the ice could even open his mouth to defend Bridget, she had Kathy tackled to the ground on her stomach, hands yanked behind her back. Bridget turned enough to face Bo, her knee pressed between Kathy’s shoulder blades. “What do you think? Do we dump the body?” she asked.

“I unfortunately think we would be Jamal’s prime suspects today,” Bo said.

“Damn. Guess we’ll just have to throw her in the slammer till her daddy arrives to save her then. Sound good to you, Baker?”

“Fuck you, Decker.”

Bridget snorted. “You wish, bitch.”

***

After Rick had called out another deputy to cart Kathy back to the station to sit in lock-up until Jamal arrived to get her the hell out of Ellepath, and after Bo had had a moment to truly breathe and bring himself back to, well, himself, he was able to get back to photographs and measurements without further issue.

“He’s frozen solid.”

“So how long has he been out here? Or dead?” Rick asked.

“I don’t mean frozen with rigor mortis or the cold weather. I mean genuinely frozen solid. As in, frozen in a freezer,” Bo said, tilting her head back to look at the deputy.

“Jesus Christ.”

Bo cleared his throat, gaze drifting back to the corpse. “It appears the head was removed after he was frozen. Unlike Miss Jameson, his hands have been left attached. The kerf marks on Miss Jameson’s bones indicated the use of something like an axe or a hatchet, but the edges of the bone here are different. I’ll know more after I’ve been able to analyze this kerf a bit more closely.”

“Why leave his hands attached but not Carol’s?” Jeff asked.

“It’s possible Miss Jameson scratched her attacker. Cutting off the hands rather than cleaning them is the only way to guarantee no DNA is pulled from beneath the nails. Both of our unsubs were sloppy in some regard. Miss Young’s kidnapper left shoe prints, blood, and, more than likely, hair. Miss Jameson’s killer left blood. Whatever she did to make him bleed in the kitchen? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she scratched him too. Enough to justify cutting off her hands.”

“And this man, his look clean?” Jeff asked.

“I won’t know for certain without closer examination. But from right here, at this particular angle… yes, they look clean.” Bo tilted his head to the side. “I, umm… I recognize his class ring.”

“You do?” Rick asked.

“Jordan Sherman.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Rick took several steps away, hands on top of his head.

“Like, Officer Sherman?” Bridget asked.

“Yes,” Bo said simply.

“I’m a little out of the loop here, clearly,” Jeff said. “Uh, whose Officer Sherman?”

“One of the patrol officers who responded to the original Decapitator scenes in Los Angeles,” Bo said. “Rick’s last case in California.”

“Okay,” Jeff said after a moment. “And… what the hell is he doing here?”

“He… was reported missing three years ago,” Bo said. “I, uh… Rick?”

“Tell ‘em. Don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“These cases — Miss Young’s kidnapping and Miss Jameson’s murder — they’re related to the original Decapitator case Rick and I worked. The two men involved are carrying out a vendetta against those who wronged them. Some officers, some reporters, a psychologist.” A pause. “Rick and myself.”

“Oh, my God, Bo,” Bridget said at the same time Jeff said, “What the fuck, Rick?”

Jeff walked over to Rick, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You knew about all this?”

“I found out most of it during lunch, yes.”

“Jesus, Rick. Were you guys just gonna keep that a little secret? That both of your lives are in danger?” Jeff asked.

“I brought them here,” Rick whispered. “Bonnie being taken. Carol getting murdered.  Sherman getting murdered. The missing cops and the missing reporters and the missing psychologist. I did that. Me. I did this, Jeff. I-I did this.”

Jeff grabbed Rick’s wrists and pulled his hands off his head. “Rick, what two psychopaths do isn’t your damn fault. You can’t control them.”

“You know why that was my last case, Jeff?”

“I know… that you shot the killer. And that some kids died. And I know that’s hard, but—”

“I was there in the building when he killed the final two girls. I was in the same room when he killed the final two girls. And I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it, Jeff.”

“So what, that means you deserve to shoulder the burden of this all alone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do know, and the idea that you and Bo should be sitting on something like this for the greater good or whatever is bullshit. You both need to be protected and kept safe, under guard, and we need to find these fuckers. We are going to find these fuckers. And we’re gonna do that with all of us in the know on everything. All of us shouldering the burden. Okay?”

Rick searched Jeff’s face before finally forcing himself to nod. “Okay.”

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A/N: I was hoping to also get chapter 20 out to you today, which is already written, but upon a quick skim, I realized that the whole first half of it is inaccurate in the forensics aspect. Some inaccuracies and make-believe are okay, ie Bo’s inventions, but this one is a big one, lol. I’ll be starting the rewrite of that chapter tonight and hopefully have it out soon ❤

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