Killer Dreams Ch. 36-40

Talia Devine's POV

St. Paul Homicide Offices

Wednesday, October 6, 2021

Was it just me, or was it getting cold in here?

Something had changed with my partner. I was the expert in the office on David Hardin and his books. I should be in the room discussing Books 3 and 4, but I'm at my desk with a new assignment unrelated to the future victims. Anyone else could look up old cases, so why me?

My relationship with David. The Captain needed me there to keep David talking, but he didn't want me anywhere near him now. He didn't trust me anymore, and James didn't either. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

My phone beeped a few minutes later. Detective Maloney assigned three others to work with me on the research. The three gathered at my desk, and I filled them in. I ended up with Minneapolis, and Yvonne Garber took St. Paul. Jack Parker took the rest of Hennepin County, along with Rice, Anoka, and Carver counties. Va Yang had the east side, with the rest of Ramsey county, Washington, and the western Wisconsin counties of St. Croix and Pierce. Lakeville detectives would look at the south with Dakota and Scott counties.

With our job defined, we all got to work. I called up Ken Clark, one of the Minneapolis Homicide detectives James knew. He'd been in their office for a decade. "Ken, it's Talia Devine from St. Paul," I said. "I need some help."

"Promise me you'll keep that fucker out of my town, and I'll do whatever you want tonight, darling!"

I just shook my head. Ken was a nice guy, but he was twenty years older than me and his second wife left him after catching him in an affair. "Sorry, Romeo. Maybe he was already in your town?" I explained my assignment.

"Jesus, Talia, you don't make anything easy. We've got at least a hundred open cases going back two years since our clearance rate is only forty percent."

"Still struggling with staffing?"

"More struggling with witnesses. A lot more gang and drug-related murders, and no one wants to talk to us. None of my cases sound like it, but I can't rule anything out. There are eleven more Detectives in the office with their caseloads. If I start pulling a bunch of files for you, it takes me off my work. My Lieutenant will have to sign off on it."

I looked around, knowing the Captain and my partner would be coming out soon, and I'd have the uncomfortable looks again. "You know? Fuck it. What kind of coffee do you guys like?"

"Caribou. Get me a Depth Charge, and the Lieutenant likes Americano. Both black," he said.

"I'll see you in half an hour." I left a note for my partner, grabbed my jacket, and headed out to my car. The Minneapolis detectives had offices on the 8^th floor of the Public Service Building downtown. That meant paying for parking in the attached garage PLUS our coffees. I would need help from the whole office, so I bought a bag of Caribou blend for their pot.

After clearing security on the ground floor, I took the elevator to the Violent Crimes Investigations Division. Minneapolis had separate offices for Robbery, Assault, and Homicide. One of the detectives saw me walking with coffee and got to the door first. "What are you doing over here, Talia?"

I'd worked with Ellen Dantzler when I was in Training division. "Begging for help," I said with a smile.

"Hence the coffee. Come on in."

I handed off the coffees and got an introduction to the Lieutenant and the Detectives in the office. I explained to the office what I was doing and why. The Lieutenant made things easy for me. "We need to catch this asshole and soon! Think about the cases in your backlog. If you have anything even close, bring her the file!"

They set me up with a computer and a spare desk, and then the fun started. There were more than a hundred cold cases, but like Ken said, most were gang or drug related. By focusing on unsolved female murders not involving firearms, I was up to thirteen files on my desk already. I called Detective Maloney and told him what I was up to. "Skip the meeting and keep working the pile," he told me. "Call me on the way home and let me know what you figure out."

"Works for me. I've got plenty to do," I told my partner. I'd stay here as long as they let me.

The breakthrough came when two detectives returned to the office and got filled in. "Yeah, I got one of those," Detective Molly Pierce said. "Hang on." A few minutes later, I had the case folder open as Molly briefed me. "Allison Decker, age 22. Her body was found naked in a dumpster behind a building on Lake Street that was a known prostitution location. The cause of death was asphyxiation, but the method is unknown. The autopsy showed no evidence of defensive wounds, no bruises on her wrists or ankles, and no evidence of drug or alcohol use. There was evidence of recent sexual activity with bruising in her anus and throat. The killer used lubricated condoms, leaving behind no traces of semen or DNA. The curious part of the autopsy report was that she had two cracked ribs. It's conjecture, but the coroner said it is consistent with injuries sometimes received during cardiopulmonary resuscitation."

"CPR? In a murder case?"

"It points me towards an accidental death. Maybe they panicked and dumped the body when they couldn't revive her."

I looked at the photographs in the file. Allison was young and healthy, with a large bust, flat stomach, and long legs. I didn't see tattoos or scars, but she did have piercings. I saw hoops through her nipples and another on her clit, plus a stud in her tongue. "Was she killed in the alley or dumped there?"

"Dumped. We didn't find drag marks, ground-in dirt, fibers, or hairs. It looks like she was cleaned up before they tossed her in the garbage."

"Anything from street cameras or local businesses?"

"Nothing, the alley wasn't lit."

It was intriguing. "What do you know about the victim?"

"She had no criminal record, and her fingerprints weren't in the system. We identified her using DNA matches to an online database."

That was surprising. "The victim's family didn't report her missing?"

"No surviving relatives. She lived alone in an apartment in Bloomington. No boyfriend anyone knew of, never married, and no suspects."

"What about her work?"

"She was a bartender at Diamond Dan's, not a dancer. The owner said she asked for that Saturday night off because of school." Diamond Dan's, also known as the Double D, was a popular gentleman's club on the fringe of downtown Minneapolis. "She was taking nursing classes at Normandale Community College during the week. Just another struggling college student who works at a strip club to pay the bills."

"And you think she was involved in prostitution?"

Molly nodded. "It's pretty common for the girls there to take on side jobs. I figured this trick went bad, and the guy cleaned up and disposed of the body. I don't have anything else to go on; her phone was in her apartment and didn't yield any clues. I never did figure out how she was making arrangements with her clients, so I have no suspects. I'm hoping for a break, but I've had nothing to go on since this happened a few weeks ago."

I took a few more minutes reading the file, and I could share her frustration. No witnesses, no DNA evidence, and no leads. Just a dead girl in a dumpster. "Wait a minute," I said. I flipped back to the front of the report. A worker found the body on Monday morning, September 13^th. According to the coroner's report, the time of death was between 24 and 36 hours earlier. That put it late Saturday night, September 11^th.

That was the second Saturday of the month.

Society night.

I dropped the file folder onto the table. Could it be a coincidence? Was the victim somehow tied to Tracy Hardin, Michael Klinesmith, and a super-secret BDSM club in the Twin Cities? It was so thin you could see through it.

It was no different than anything else in this case. I had no solid evidence proving the tie, but I couldn't discount it either. It sure felt suspicious. "Shit."

Molly looked disappointed. "You don't think it's related?"

"Worse. I think it MIGHT be, but proving it will be a hell of a thing. Your Lieutenant should hear this." Molly picked up the file, and we went to his office with the door closed. I warned them first about how little proof I had and how explosive any rumors would be if they got out. Both agreed to keep things quiet until we had a solid tie.

I quickly explained what I'd learned about the secret bondage club. "I know the meetings are on the second Saturday of every month, and I know from the schedules that both Tracy and Michael might be involved. Both had nothing else scheduled, and their phones remained at home. Remember that photograph of Tracy Hardin in bondage gear with Lars?" They both remembered the coverage in the media. "That picture was from a Society function earlier this year. I interviewed a witness who recognized the background."

"Did this witness tell you if Klinesmith was a member?"

"Nope. She refused to talk about anyone else who participated in the event."

Molly was thinking. "Can you get her to talk? Call her before a grand jury?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant. The Club isn't illegal, and they have some iron-clad non-disclosure agreements. My witness only talked about Tracy Hardin because she died, and Lars fled the country. I can go back tomorrow and ask."

"Come back in the morning, and I'll have Detective Pierce help you dig into this one. I think we're done for today." I looked at the clock; we'd worked through dinner, and I was starving. "Can I have a copy of the file?"

"I'll make one for you," Molly said.

"Detective Devine, I need you to keep us in the loop on this one," the Lieutenant said. "If you get any evidence this murder is related to the Hardin case, let us know."

"I'll keep Detective Pierce in the loop, and I'll be back tomorrow to keep looking at the other cases," I promised. A few minutes later, Molly handed me a flash drive with scans of the entire file. It was long after rush hour on Interstate 94 towards St. Paul and home.

I called James on the hands-free as I drove. "Hey, partner, what did I miss?"

"Nothing much. David's back at the hotel, and we're digging through the pile of shit he left us," Detective Maloney replied. "How did you make out?"

"I've got one possible," I replied. I told Maloney about the Allison Decker case.

"I remember that one on the news," he said. "Why do you think it might be connected?"

I told him about the time of death, her physical condition, and my suspicions. "She strikes me as more of a high-class escort than a prostitute. She doesn't use drugs, is a bartender but didn't drink that night, and has no record. Her apartment is pretty nice for a college student bartending part-time. Maybe she has a sugar daddy?"

"Keep looking, but if you can't make a connection, move on," he said. "We've got surveillance on David Hardin, so don't even think about stopping at his hotel."

"I heard the Captain loud and clear," I objected. "I'm going to grab something to eat, go home, and work out before collapsing into bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm doing the same, except my workout will be twelve-ounce curls," he said with a laugh. "See you in the morning."

I picked up dinner from Aloha Poke Co. on the way home. I hit the rowing machine for thirty minutes, took a shower, and was at the table eating an Aloha Bowl with white rice and shrimp when the buzzer sounded. I got up, pulling my robe tight as I walked to the intercom. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Talia. I couldn't stay away."

David? Shit. I'd see what he needed and send him away. I hit the door release button and waited for him to come up.

Chapter 37

Talia Devine's POV

Woodbury, Minnesota

Wednesday, October 6, 2021

My thoughts went back and forth like a windshield wiper as I waited for David Hardin to make his way to my third-floor apartment. My heart yearned for him, and I couldn't wait to be in his arms again. My head was more cautious, given the warnings from my boss and partner. I should have told him to go away, but I couldn't say the words. I'd pressed the button to unlock the door.

I opened the door of my apartment as the elevator door opened. David walked out and caught my eyes; my body responded, needing him. I let him inside and closed the door before kneeling at his feet. "You shouldn't have come here, sir. They might be watching you."

"I'm a former cop, Talia. I know how to evade a tail." He put his index finger under my chin as I looked into his eyes. "Lose the robe."

"Yes, sir." I opened the tie and shrugged it off my shoulders. I was naked and afraid, shivering slightly in the narrow entryway. "My boss suspects our relationship is more than professional. He specifically warned me not to be alone with you."

"Yet here we are," David said. "Stand up." I quickly complied. "Turn around, hands high on the wall." I saw him pick up the robe in the corner of my eye. I heard a rush of fabric before the terrycloth belt went over my eyes. "Trust has to be the basis of any relationship. In a BDSM relationship, trust is essential. You have to trust me with more than just your body and your freedom. You have to trust me to trust that I'll take care of you. You have to trust I won't take advantage of your bondage."

A shiver went through me. Tracy Hardin let someone bind her up. She trusted that man, and he betrayed that trust. Tracy was powerless when he started carving her body up with a knife.

I'd have screamed and reached for my gun if not for one thing. David Hardin was not the killer. I'd been with him the night of the second murder, and he'd never done anything to betray my trust. "I trust you, David."

"Good." I heard his belt unbuckling, then a zipper before his pants hit the floor. He gripped the back of my neck with his left hand, pushing my face gently to the wall. "Don't move, Talia."

I could feel his rapidly hardening cock between my legs, and I moved my hips to help him enter. I was already wet, a good thing when he hilted himself with one pussy-stuffing thrust. I bit back a scream as I stretched to take him. "May I cum, sir?"

"Cum for me NOW, Talia." My body responded to his voice, and my orgasm washed over me. He grabbed my hips and started pounding me hard. "Cum at will, my love. Keep it quiet, though."

He didn't just fuck me. David OWNED my pussy, ruining me for anyone else. I came twice more under his ruthless assault, the apartment filled with the wet smacks of his hips into my pelvis. All too soon, he backed out, spun me around, and pushed me to my knees. "Open your mouth for me," he ordered as he grabbed my hair from the back.

I could hear him jacking off as I opened wide, my tongue out and waiting. "Cum for me, beautiful," he said as the first shot splashed across my mouth and cheek. I came hard for a fourth time as he painted my face with his hot seed. When my orgasm finished, I sat back on my heels, hands on my knees and panting in lust. "I had to see you, Talia. I need you, even if it's only for a few minutes."

"I feel the same way, sir, but you should go before we get caught." I wanted him, but it wasn't time.

"Don't you dare move, Talia. You have no idea how beautiful you are right now." I heard his belt clatter on the floor and figured he was picking up his pants. "Stay there for a count of five hundred after I tell you goodbye."

I heard him walk into my bathroom and close the door. A minute later, I heard the toilet flush and the sink. He didn't come out for another minute. It wasn't the same loving and masterful tone when he spoke to me minutes before. "I'm very disappointed in you, Talia. Goodbye."

"Sir?" The door opened. "David?" The door closed again without a response.

My mind was spinning as I counted to five hundred. I had no idea why David's mood changed, but I wasn't going to disobey his order. As soon as I'd finished my count, I tore off the blindfold and ran to the bathroom to see what had set him off.

On the vanity next to the sink was a small metal disk. I picked it up, recognizing it as an Apple AirTag.

Fuck.

Someone planted a tracking device on him, and he found it and blamed me.

I stared at myself in the mirror as the tears came out, running down my cheeks until they met the ribbons of drying cum on my face. David just talked about trust and how important it was to our relationship

Then he found THIS. Did he blame me? Surely he knew that I'd never do that to him!

Or maybe he figured I had to know about it, and my boss was using me to get to him. That fit the way he left, pissed off and betrayed. I couldn't even call him because I didn't know his phone number.

Nothing would get fixed tonight. I stepped into the shower, washing David's sticky gift from my face and hair. I put the robe back on and tried to finish my dinner, but my body didn't want food after all this.

I put the leftovers in the fridge and went to my laptop. Going to the Discord chat, I typed a short message. "I didn't know. I love you."

I hit send, hoping he'd believe me. I tossed the AirTag into my purse and went to bed, hoping things would be better tomorrow.

I felt like shit when I woke up. I checked my laptop while making breakfast, but there was no response to my Discord message. David hadn't even read it.

I got dressed and out the door by six-fifteen, arriving at the office well before seven. I was early enough that only my partner and a few others were at their desks. I walked over to mine, setting my purse in the drawer before tossing the AirTag to Detective Maloney. "What the fuck, James?"

"Where did you get this, Talia?"

"David dropped by last night and left it for me."

"Whatever. The Captain wants to see you, and he's got Internal Affairs in there. What the hell did you do?"

Shit. "Only one way to find out," I responded. I locked my desk and crossed the office to the Captain's door, knocking twice.

"Enter," Captain Cullen said. I went into the office and stood in front of his desk. "This is Lieutenant Fisher and Detective Thompon from Internal Affairs."

I looked at the two humorless suits standing next to the desk. "Do I need my union representative, sir?"

"You will want one for the disciplinary interviews and hearing, along with a lawyer."

"What am I accused of, sir?"

"You spent last night with David Hardin after I'd ordered you not to be alone with him, a murder suspect in a high-profile investigation." He showed me his phone, with the AirTag location showing the office. The history showed it at my apartment since nine-twenty last night. "Then you aided David Hardin in escaping court-ordered surveillance. He drove away from the hotel at five-eighteen this morning. David was somehow alerted to the GPS tracker we had on his car. We found it in the parking garage after he disappeared." Shit. "You are facing charges of official misconduct and disobedience of a direct order, Detective Devine. Pending completion of the investigation and the outcome of the hearing, you are under suspension. Hand over your gun and badge."

I couldn't believe it. "David is innocent, and I know because I was banging him the whole night of the second murder," is what I wanted to say. Instead, I said nothing. I'd been around enough investigations to know that the lawyer would appreciate my silence. Nothing I said now would stop the process that the charges set in motion.

I pulled my badge from my belt and tossed it on his desk. I removed my pistol, dropping the magazine and locking the slide back before placing it next to my gold shield with the spare magazine I carried. "My backup gun is my own, and I have a permit to carry," I said.

"You can't carry in this building. Detective Thompson will return it to you when you leave."