found out some pretty interesting details while you two were out.” Byte motioned toward the chair near his. “Have a seat, and I’ll show you what a genius I truly am.”
“Nope. Taking a shower first. Your geniusness will have to wait five minutes.” Hutch kept walking toward the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes, throwing them to the floor as he walked. “And food. If I have to focus on your computer mumbo jumbo, I need food.” He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door on whatever disgruntled comeback Byte could come up with.
Hutch set the taps and stepped into the warm spray. The visions he’d dealt with that night had left his skin crawling. It was like the heinousness of what he’d witnessed left its stench on his flesh. Turning the tap to the hottest setting, Hutch scrubbed at his skin until it was raw. No matter how much soap he used or how hard he scoured his skin, it clung to him.
In disgust, Hutch shut off the water and winced as he dried his burning skin. After slipping into comfortable sweats and a soft T-shirt, Hutch rejoined Byte and Granite in the main room.
“Jesus. You look like a stewed tomato,” Granite said as Hutch took the chair next to him.
“Shut up.” He wasn’t about to discuss his shower habits with Granite. Nor was he in the mood to discuss the reasoning behind the habit. “So what have you got for me?” he asked Byte, changing the subject quickly.
Both men stared at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything further, Byte shrugged and pulled up the document he’d been working on.
“I checked ViCAP, some underground sources, and poked around some international resources. Lots of sick fucks in this world who like to mutilate, but there are only a couple that might be connected to our perp.”
Hutch raised a brow at him. “And?”
“That’s the thing. When I did some further digging, I found that there was no way it could be him. I can’t find a single case anywhere that completely fits his MO.”
Hutch heard what Byte said, he just couldn’t believe it.
“Are you sure?” Granite asked with disbelief in his voice.
“There has to be something. No way was Martin his first kill. The scene was too clean.” Hutch could have sworn there would have been a previous vic.
Uncertainty, fear, and inexperience would have demanded something be left behind. No matter how much this maniac read on forensics or crime scene investigation, he would have been nervous as hell. He’d either been incredibly lucky or there had to be previous crimes.
Frowning at the stiff set of Byte’s shoulders and the way he avoided looking at either him or Granite, Hutch braced himself for what Byte was going to say. Not much got to Byte. Whatever was eating at him now, Hutch wasn’t going to like.
“From what I can gather, the reason there isn’t any evidence is because no one bothered to look for any.” He looked at Hutch, anger simmering in his eyes. “They didn’t bother to collect any at the second scene either.”
“Motherfuckers!” Hutch bellowed. He was instantly on his feet, pacing. “You have got to be kidding me!”
Byte shook his head stubbornly. “I talked to the lead detective, one Travis Harding. He recognized Jared Martin from a disturbance call he’d investigated at the Ram Rod, and came to the conclusion that Jared had allowed himself to be tied up and abused. That basically he was partially at fault in his own death due to the, and I quote, ‘disgusting lifestyle he lived.’”
“What about the mutilation? This asshole couldn’t possibly think that anyone would voluntarily allow that?” Granite asked skeptically.
Byte looked back and forth between the two of them, the anger and sadness apparent in his dark eyes. He pursed his lips and blew out a heavy breath through his nose. “At first I thought this was an isolated case of incompetence, that this asshole Harding had some kind of major influence. That quite possibly he pressured the
“Nope. Taking a shower first. Your geniusness will have to wait five minutes.” Hutch kept walking toward the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes, throwing them to the floor as he walked. “And food. If I have to focus on your computer mumbo jumbo, I need food.” He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door on whatever disgruntled comeback Byte could come up with.
Hutch set the taps and stepped into the warm spray. The visions he’d dealt with that night had left his skin crawling. It was like the heinousness of what he’d witnessed left its stench on his flesh. Turning the tap to the hottest setting, Hutch scrubbed at his skin until it was raw. No matter how much soap he used or how hard he scoured his skin, it clung to him.
In disgust, Hutch shut off the water and winced as he dried his burning skin. After slipping into comfortable sweats and a soft T-shirt, Hutch rejoined Byte and Granite in the main room.
“Jesus. You look like a stewed tomato,” Granite said as Hutch took the chair next to him.
“Shut up.” He wasn’t about to discuss his shower habits with Granite. Nor was he in the mood to discuss the reasoning behind the habit. “So what have you got for me?” he asked Byte, changing the subject quickly.
Both men stared at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything further, Byte shrugged and pulled up the document he’d been working on.
“I checked ViCAP, some underground sources, and poked around some international resources. Lots of sick fucks in this world who like to mutilate, but there are only a couple that might be connected to our perp.”
Hutch raised a brow at him. “And?”
“That’s the thing. When I did some further digging, I found that there was no way it could be him. I can’t find a single case anywhere that completely fits his MO.”
Hutch heard what Byte said, he just couldn’t believe it.
“Are you sure?” Granite asked with disbelief in his voice.
“There has to be something. No way was Martin his first kill. The scene was too clean.” Hutch could have sworn there would have been a previous vic.
Uncertainty, fear, and inexperience would have demanded something be left behind. No matter how much this maniac read on forensics or crime scene investigation, he would have been nervous as hell. He’d either been incredibly lucky or there had to be previous crimes.
Frowning at the stiff set of Byte’s shoulders and the way he avoided looking at either him or Granite, Hutch braced himself for what Byte was going to say. Not much got to Byte. Whatever was eating at him now, Hutch wasn’t going to like.
“From what I can gather, the reason there isn’t any evidence is because no one bothered to look for any.” He looked at Hutch, anger simmering in his eyes. “They didn’t bother to collect any at the second scene either.”
“Motherfuckers!” Hutch bellowed. He was instantly on his feet, pacing. “You have got to be kidding me!”
Byte shook his head stubbornly. “I talked to the lead detective, one Travis Harding. He recognized Jared Martin from a disturbance call he’d investigated at the Ram Rod, and came to the conclusion that Jared had allowed himself to be tied up and abused. That basically he was partially at fault in his own death due to the, and I quote, ‘disgusting lifestyle he lived.’”
“What about the mutilation? This asshole couldn’t possibly think that anyone would voluntarily allow that?” Granite asked skeptically.
Byte looked back and forth between the two of them, the anger and sadness apparent in his dark eyes. He pursed his lips and blew out a heavy breath through his nose. “At first I thought this was an isolated case of incompetence, that this asshole Harding had some kind of major influence. That quite possibly he pressured the
Similar Books
