Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(96)
Author: Abigail Roux

They headed outside and around the block, well away from the gathered law enforcement, and came in through the back alley where the ambulance was parked. There were just a couple cops to stand guard. A quick flash of their badges and some officious government snarls at the overworked men, and they were in.

Zane shoved his hands in his pockets and walked carefully on the narrow runner of plastic laid over the slick and sticky floor. Each room was bloody. They found the new ME in the living room.

The man looked over his shoulder at them. “You’re the team from the Bureau?”

Ty glanced at Zane and then back at the ME. “What can you tell us?”

he asked without answering the question.

“Occupant of the house is a seventy-one-year-old male. We don’t know if he’s the victim yet, but he’s nowhere to be found. No way to tell time of death just yet except for the congealing of the blood. I’d say anywhere from three to five hours,” the examiner told them. He stood up from where he crouched, carefully keeping his hands away from his own body. His gloves were stained almost to the wrists. “We’re still finding pieces around the house. I figure most of the victim is here.”

“How was the scene discovered?” Zane asked stoically.

The ME glanced between them. “The victim’s heart was delivered to Federal Plaza with this address on a return address label.”

“The heart?” Ty echoed flatly.

The ME nodded and merely looked at him as Zane rubbed his hand over his eyes, flinching painfully. Ty glanced around and pursed his lips. The blood that was visible was beginning to dry and grow darker. There were indeed pieces, just as the man had said. It was like a scene from some camp slasher movie. But Ty wasn’t registering the absolute horror of the scene he was calmly perusing. Instead, he found himself trying to fit it into the profile he had made of the killer all those months ago.

“Anything else remarkable?” Zane forced himself to ask. He wanted—needed—to get out of there. Very soon. It was messing with his head.

“The murder weapon,” the ME answered with a nod. He had one of the crime scene techs lead them over to a dresser that was decked out with a white cloth and tapers in silver candlesticks. On a tarnished silver platter in the center of the cloth was a gore-caked hacksaw.

Zane took one good look, nodded sharply and turned away, clenching his trembling hands into tight fists. It wasn’t the blood and carnage that bothered him so much; it was the idea that someone did this to another living person, that it was so obviously planned.

Ty didn’t notice his partner’s reactions. Instead, he stared at the placement of the murder weapon curiously, intrigued by it.

“They found it like this?” he asked with a wave at the platter.

The tech nodded. “We’re the only ones who’ve been in this room, sir.”

Ty turned and looked over the room, glancing at Zane and then back at the bloody floor again. “Anything else?” he asked the crime scene guy.

“The only thing we’ve found that’s odd is a hole cut in the floorboards. We’re pretty sure the murder weapon was used to do it,” the tech answered.

“Where’s the hole?” Zane demanded.

“Bedroom. Here, I’ll show you,” the man answered as he pointed to a nearby doorway. “But it’s not a hole. The killer covered it again,” he added hastily as he led them into a front room of the house. “We haven’t lifted the cover yet. We just finished taking photos.”

Ty frowned down at the crudely cut square in the floor. “This dude’s nuttier than squirrel shit,” he muttered.

The tech glanced at him and bit his lip to keep from smiling.

Zane carefully knelt down, staring at the cracks in the wood.

“Gloves,” he asked, holding up one hand.

The tech blinked down at him, then glanced at Ty.

“Don’t you think maybe you should let the crime scene dudes do this, Hoss?” Ty asked Zane pointedly.

“Give me some f**king gloves,” Zane growled.

The tech pulled some out of his pocket and handed them over without questioning. After pulling them on, Zane started slowly tracing the cracks in the floorboards with his fingers. Ty watched wordlessly, recognizing Zane’s gears turning but too annoyed with him to care.

All Ty knew was that their perp was getting frustrated with the lack of progress the Feds had been making, and he was now putting on a show. It felt almost like he was excited. The scene had a sense of manic glee to it, something none of the other scenes had carried with them. Ty looked over his shoulder, back in the direction of the room with the platter and the murder weapon, flanked by silver candlesticks.

It felt like a party. Like a welcome home party, complete with bloody confetti. But that wasn’t possible, and Ty frowned as he began to wonder about his own mental stability. The killer had no way of knowing they were back on the case yet. If their theory was correct, he had nothing to be celebrating.

Kneeling on the floor, Zane pulled at the cutout of the hardwood floor with his fingers, but it was too tight to lift. He reached into his jacket sleeve and pulled out one of his knives, sliding it into the gap between the boards and applying pressure carefully.

The board lifted easily. He pulled it away and set it aside, then reached for the next one.

“What are you doing?” Ty asked in alarm as Zane began destroying the crime scene.

Zane looked grimly down into the hole as he lifted a second floorboard. “Take a look,” he said to Ty as he sat back.

Ty and the tech both bent over the hole and peered down into it.

Inside was a simple piece of white construction paper. Drawn on it in blood was a stylized heart.

“Weird,” the tech observed flatly.

Ty turned his head to look at the man, then down at Zane. “Probably our token. What’d you expect to find?” he asked curiously.

Zane shrugged distractedly. “I don’t know. Had hardwood floors growing up, used to hide things under them,” he explained in a troubled voice.

He stood up, peeling the gloves off and handing them to the tech. “Thanks,”

he said quietly before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Ty stood still and watched Zane retreat with a frown, then looked back down at the note left under the floorboards. He sighed and looked back up. Even in here, far removed from what appeared to be the main crime scene, there was blood and gore.

“Takes a real madman to do this to another human being,” the ME