What Have You Done Read online

  “He’s heading out back! He went out the window! Get to the back!” Sean grabbed for his radio to alert the officer at the rear of the house, but before he could lift it from his belt, the crackle of gunfire popped in the alley behind him, and he froze in place.

  Don ran to the window. He grabbed his radio. “Officer down! We have an officer down at three-fifty-two North Broad Street. Suspect is fleeing on foot. Black male, six foot two, white tank top and jeans. Running east toward North Twelfth Street.” He turned to Sean. “Let’s go!”

  As his partner ran past him and retreated back down the stairs, Sean threw himself out the open window onto a small overhanging roof. He scurried to the edge and used a gutter pipe to shimmy to the ground. When he landed, he could see the sergeant already outside, tending to the officer who’d been shot somewhere near his head and neck. The blood looked unnaturally bright in the early-morning sunlight.

  “You stick with him,” Sean said to the sergeant as he ran by. He read the name tag on the young officer’s uniform. Samson. “Backup and an ambulance are on the way.”

  The sergeant ignored him, instead cradling his officer in his arms and applying pressure to the wound as his other men finished sweeping the house. He kept whispering in the young man’s ear. “Hang in there. Hang in there. Hang in there.”

  Sean could hear Don behind him but stayed focused on the suspect running up ahead. Cutter was still a good distance away. “Stop! Police!”

  As Cutter ran, he turned back and fired twice. Sean covered up when he saw the flashes from the muzzle but never broke stride. He watched as Cutter hopped a small fence and slipped to the ground when he landed. He was almost out of the alley. If he got onto a busy street, they could lose him among the population and other side streets and cut throughs.

  Sean stopped and raised his Beretta, carefully aiming at his fleeing target. A steady finger pulled the trigger, and in an instant, he saw Cutter fall to the ground. “Stay down,” he commanded.

  Cutter was thrashing about, crying aloud, clutching the back of his leg. Sean approached with caution, his weapon aimed. He climbed the fence and landed on the other side. Cutter’s muscles bulged and tensed through his tank top as he rolled around. The oversized watch on his left wrist had cracked when he’d fallen. The diamond-encrusted jewelry around his neck jingled with every motion.

  “Where’s your gun?” Sean asked.

  “Up your ass!” Cutter screamed. His eyes found the detective’s for a moment, and then he turned away.

  “Give me your weapon, or I end you right here.”

  Cutter grunted as he pushed his Glock from underneath his chest and slid it across the alley. “Call an ambulance, man. I’m hit!”

  Don caught up, climbed the fence, and landed next to his partner. “Nice shot,” he said.

  “Thanks. Had to get him before he made it to the street. I didn’t want to lose him.”

  “I didn’t do nuthin’,” Cutter spat. “Get me a doctor, man. I need a doctor. I’m shot. You shot me!”

  “Yeah, looks like I caught you in the knee,” Sean replied. “That’s gotta hurt.”

  “Screw you, man!”

  Sean kept his gun aimed on his suspect and motioned toward his partner. “Cuff him, and I’ll search him,” he said. “We’ll ride with him to the hospital, and I’ll sit outside his room until he’s ready for transport to Booking. I’m not letting this son of a bitch out of my sight.”

  Don nodded. “Ten-four.”

  5

  Yellow crime scene tape stretched around the perimeter of the Tiger Hotel, trapping the two patrol cars that had responded to the scene inside the parking lot while keeping all unauthorized personnel at bay. An ambulance and a Forensics van were parked diagonally across from the hotel’s entrance. Two officers stationed by sawhorses closed the street in both directions.

  There was a particular smell to the Tiger. Liam paused to identify it, but the best he could come up with was an overabundance of Lysol and the stench of wet dog. He held his hand over his mouth and walked to the foot of the stairs with the rest of his team. Sergeant McMullen, the officer in charge, was waiting.

  “Ah, Forensics,” McMullen said. “We were wondering when you guys were going to show.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We got a girl up in B11, hanged with an extension cord, then split open at the gut. Gory, but nothing I haven’t seen before. Some of the other guys are having a rough time with it. We’re interviewing the owner, trying to get a list of guests or workers who might’ve seen something. We took a few pictures and cordoned off the area. Other than that, we’ve pretty much been waiting for you guys to do your thing.”

  “Okay, we’re on it.”

  McMullen shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Whoever did this isn’t playing with a full deck,” he said. “Sick bastard left paper flowers at her feet.”

  Liam stopped. “Paper flowers?”

  “Yeah, you know, those flowers made out of tissue paper or construction paper or whatever? Friggin’ guy makes like a bouquet of them and leaves them under the body. Weird.”

  “Who’s here from Homicide?”

  “Heckle and Keenan. Keenan’s upstairs. Heckle’s interviewing the owner in the office over there.”

  “Thanks, we got it from here.”

  “All yours.”

  As Liam and his team made their way to the second floor, they pulled on their latex gloves and prepared to investigate.

  Detective Keenan met them at the top landing and escorted them to the room. Keenan was a large man, tall and thick. His blond hair was a mop on his head, his face showing old acne scars from his youth. He’d played football all his life and still ran back punts for the department in the fall league. He towered over everyone who walked by. “In there,” he said.

  The team made its way into B11. Liam stopped to survey the scene. The death had been violent. The smell of Lysol and wet dog was now replaced with the stench of murder that could not, in any way, be mistaken for anything else. Perspiration, bodily fluids, waste, blood—it welcomed him with the repulsion his job had forced him to develop a tolerance for. The bouquet of multicolored paper flowers was under the victim, stained with her blood. For the second time that day, Liam thought about his mother.

  “All right,” Liam said aloud. “Let’s get everything we can. Jane, I want pictures and prints. Rob, get me blood samples. Teddy, you deal with sample fibers from everything in this room. Mattress, sheets, comforter, carpet . . . everything. When we’re done, we’ll cut her down and bag her. I want an autopsy and tissue analysis once we’re in the examination room. Go.”

  The team broke off and began unloading equipment. Liam had been a forensic detective for the Philadelphia Police Department for the last six years. He was the leader of his team and one of the most dedicated and decorated in his division. With the skill of a scientist and the mind of a detective, he was able to uncover clues to countless homicides throughout the city’s jurisdiction by using methods still considered state-of-the-art in the twenty-first century. He was a member of the mayor’s Terrorism Task Force and a part-time instructor at the police academy. He’d seen crime scenes as bad as this one and written papers on most of them. Murder intrigued him.

  As he watched the others get to work, he pulled a camera from his bag and began snapping pictures. The victim was naked, her body a dark shade of blue. Her head was shaved in random places and hung limp to one side. Drying blood ran from a wound across her stomach and down her legs to the floor. This was violence in the worst way. He stepped closer and aimed his camera, and that’s when he saw it. The light that was coming from the hallway hit her in just the right way, and Liam recognized her immediately. He stopped breathing and almost jumped backward, catching himself at the last minute. “Uh, what’s her name?” he asked as calmly and as slowly as he could.

  Keenan opened his notepad. “Miller. Kerri Miller.”

  The name shot through him like a bolt of lightning. His
knees grew weak to the point he thought he might fall over.

  “We took her ID from her purse,” the detective continued. “Got ID, cash, credit cards. No cell phone, though.”

  Liam backed away. Despite all the times he’d run his fingers over her smooth skin, all the times he’d kissed those lips, felt her touch, her embrace, he hadn’t recognized her. He looked around the room. There didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle. The telephone, digital clock, and lamp remained in place on the nightstand. The bed was still made and free of any wrinkles. The shades were open. Only two chairs were out from under the table, one on the opposite side of the room in the corner, the other turned over against the bed.

  “Where’s the victim’s hair?” he asked.

  Keenan shrugged. “No sign of it. We’re guessing the killer took it.”

  Kerri Miller.

  Liam stepped around the body and walked into the hallway. “I gotta make a call. Be right back.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just be a sec.”

  The hotel was empty but for a few scattered police officers roaming the lobby. Liam staggered down the stairs to the first floor and jogged out the front entrance, almost stumbling his way into the parking lot as his world tilted and sagged. He climbed into the Forensics van and could feel his heart thumping in his chest. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out a noise that didn’t sound human. Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled out his phone and dialed his brother’s number. Across the street, a small crowd of onlookers and several television vans were waiting to hear something that might tell them what was taking place inside the Tiger Hotel. Adrenaline coursed through him as a shaking hand held the phone up against his ear.

  Kerri was dead. Kerri Miller.

  His lover.

  6

  It looked as though the entire Philadelphia Police Department had overtaken the second floor trauma unit of Temple University Hospital. On one side, officers, sergeants, two lieutenants, and a handful of detectives loitered around the main desk, waiting for word on young Officer Samson, who had been shot by Cutter Washington during his attempted escape. The mood was sullen. Voices had fallen to whispers out of respect. Each of the men who waited for an update knew, without a doubt, that it could have been him lying in that operating room. It was a risk they took every day.

  On the other side of the floor, there were only Sean, Don, and the two uniforms who had been assigned to guard Cutter when he came out of surgery. None of them spoke. Instead, they looked toward the opposite end of the corridor and hoped for the best as their eyes wandered from cop to cop, the scenes from that morning playing endlessly in their minds.

  Lieutenant Phillips walked off the elevator and made his way toward his two detectives. He was thin, and the overcoat he wore swallowed his frame. Long fingers reached into his pocket and came away with a pencil that he twirled in his hand. He always fiddled with something when he was stressed. A ball, a rubber band, a letter opener. This time it was a pencil. The look on his face was steel determination. Like the others, he was angry that a cop had gotten shot, and he wanted answers.

  “What do we got?” Phillips growled.

  Sean stood from his seat. “Samson’s in surgery. It’s touch and go. Won’t know much for another few hours. Family’s been notified. The wife is in a separate waiting room with his lieutenant. Other family’s on the way.”

  “And Cutter?”

  “Should be out of surgery soon. Minor. Had to go in and get the bullet out.”

  “Should’ve put it between his eyes.”

  “If I get another chance, I might do just that.”

  Don joined his partner. “We did it by the book. It’s better this way. No mess and no fuss. He ran, shot the kid, and we got him.”

  “You get a clean look at what happened?” Phillips asked. “Eyewitness account?”

  Sean shook his head. “No, we were in the bedroom when we heard the shot. By the time I looked out, the kid was down, and Cutter was running from the scene. We got his weapon, so we’ll get a ballistics match from Forensics.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “Nothing that I can think of. It was pretty cut-and-dry.”

  Phillips flopped down in one of the plastic seats and tossed the pencil onto his lap. “Helluva thing,” he mumbled. “That kid better make it.”

  Sean’s phone began to vibrate. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was Liam. He ignored it.

  “We got him,” Don said. “If the kid pulls through, we have a victim’s account, and like Sean said, we’ll have a ballistics match in twenty-four hours. Cutter’s going down. And this time we don’t have to worry about witnesses disappearing. We got everything we need.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Phillips replied. “This son of a bitch has slipped through our fingers too many times before. Even with cases that were as airtight as this is.”

  Sean’s phone vibrated again. Another call from Liam. Again, he ignored it. “I agree with Don. We got him.”

  “What about the girlfriend?” Phillips asked.

  “She’s in holding at the station,” Don said. “Attempted assault on an officer and accessory attempted murder.”

  “And the kids?”

  “The sweep team found them in their room under their beds. Brother and a sister. The girlfriend’s mother took them.”

  Sean’s phone vibrated for a third time. He looked down. Liam. Something was up.

  “You gonna get that?” Phillips asked. “That’s three times in a row.”

  “It’s just my brother. It can wait.”

  The phone stopped for a moment, then immediately began vibrating again.

  Phillips sighed. “Apparently it can’t.”

  “Sorry.” Sean turned away from the others and walked farther down the hall toward the stairwell. When he was far enough out of earshot, he answered. “Liam, what’s going on? What’s with all the calls?”

  “I need you down here at the Tiger Hotel. I’m on scene. Homicide.”

  Sean could hear the tremor in his brother’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “You need to get down here.”

  “I can’t. Me and Don have our own case we’re investigating. We’re at Temple Hospital.”

  “But I need you.”

  It sounded like Liam had been crying. “Why?” Sean asked. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

  “It’s Kerri,” Liam replied as his voice shook even more. “She’s the victim. Kerri’s dead, Sean.”

  Sean stopped and pressed the phone tighter to his ear. “Kerri? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  He pushed through the steel door out into the stairwell where he could be alone. “You’re positive it’s her?”

  “Yes, dammit! We have her ID. I saw her. It’s her. Kerri’s dead.”

  Sean leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know what happened? Can you tell from the scene?”

  “She’s strung up like some animal. Hanged and cut open.”

  “Do you have any idea who she was with last night?”

  “No. We haven’t talked in, like, three months. She broke it off and begged me to fix things with Vanessa. I haven’t talked to her since.”

  “Not a word?”

  “Maybe a couple of times on the phone, but I haven’t laid eyes on her since we broke up. I have no clue who she was seeing or what she was doing last night.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Liam sniffled on the other end and took another deep breath. “There was a bouquet of paper flowers at her feet. Just like the ones Mom used to make. And her hair was all chopped up. Like Mom did to herself that day. It’s freaking me out. Just get down here.”

  “Who’s there from Homicide?”

  “Heckle and Keenan.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m on my way.”

  Sean disconnected and let his head fall against the wall
leading down to the first floor below.

  “You okay?”

  Sean looked up. “What?”

  Don walked through the steel door into the stairwell. “Everything okay?”

  “Actually, no, not really. Liam just got called to a homicide at the Tiger. It’s Kerri. She’s dead.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I gotta get down there. Can you cover for me for a few hours? I won’t be long. I’ll meet you back at the station.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll cover. Go.”

  Sean hurried down the stairs and ran out of the hospital toward his car. The air outside had turned warm and heavy. The sun that had been so radiant that morning was now hidden behind dark clouds that had slowly moved in like giant glaciers in the sky. A storm was imminent.

  7

  The Tiger Hotel was full of police activity. Sean hurried through the lobby, searching for his younger brother. The crime scene looked no different from any other he’d ever been a part of in the past. Why would it? Crime scenes were about procedure. There were things you did during the initial stages of a homicide investigation to preserve evidence and keep the integrity of the circumstance intact. The fact that he knew the victim meant nothing to the others around him.

  An officer was leaning against the wall, fiddling with his phone.

  “Have you seen the Forensics team?” Sean asked.

  The officer scanned the lobby and pointed. “Yeah, some of them are over there by the exit.”

  “Thanks.”

  He approached Liam, who was writing something in his pad, and without speaking took him by the arm and guided him away from the others toward the opposite end of the lobby near the back door. Liam kept his head down as they walked. Sean could sense his relief now that he was there.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I got called in for a homicide, I get here, and it’s Kerri. I couldn’t believe it. Then I saw the paper flowers and her hair all chopped up like Mom’s. What is that?”

  “I don’t know. Gotta be something, but I don’t know what.”