He jogged to a halt and waved to Regine under the bike overpass. The homeless woman was a regular fixture on his morning jogs. He’d discovered early on that she liked where she was, liked the freedom of being transient, and wouldn’t entertain any talk of shelters. Occasionally he could convince her to accept small comforts, a coat in the winter, clean blankets, a cup of coffee. Most of all, he liked her. Loved her spirit and her refreshing authenticity. Regine was who she was.
“Miss Regine, how are you this sunny morning?”
“Good, good, Mistah Nick. You know, that udda woman who come here, Alice, she brought me this magazine yesterday.” She held up aCosmoand gave him a wide smile. “Quiz in here about how to know if you’re in love or lust. I say who care? I take either.”
Nick chuckled. “I wouldn’t have taken you for aCosmogirl.”
She laughed until her shoulders shook. “I read to remember all the crazies out there.” She pointed toward the city outside the park.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Regine. We’re all a little crazy.”
“Ahhh. You a good man, Nick. When you gonna get yourself a woman?”
He shrugged. Visions of Rowan stretched out across his sofa sprang up in his noggin like she was taking up residence there. He rubbed his head.
“Ohhh, Mistah Nick. What that look? I think you in love.”
He pointed at the scar running through his eyebrow. “Who’d love this ugly mug?”
“You all right.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Womens only care ’bout you treating ’em right. You treat your woman right?”
“If I had one, I could tell you.” Rosco bumped his knuckles with his nose and Nick checked the time. “Sorry, Regine. I gotta run. Rosco needs to do his business, and I’m going to be late for work.” He pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed them to her. “Here. You need coffee with thatCosmo.”
She clucked her tongue. “You a good man, Mistah Nick. I think you be very nice to your woman.”
“Thanks. I’ll know where to come if I need a reference.” He took off running again, her laugh filling the air.
No sooner was Nick showered and dressed and in his vehicle than his portable squawked at him. Death scene, not too far from him. Soren was already there with the first responders, and the coroner was on his way. Nick hurried to the address the dispatcher gave him.
“Nick,” Soren said. “Called you the second I got confirmation. Female, early twenties, found naked by the morning garbage crew, no ID.”
Nick assessed the scene. The body had been dumped like a used tissue. That’s the first thing Nick thought when he saw the woman. She was already gray and her position was such that it was pretty clear she’d been disposed of after death. No one alive would remain in the oddly splayed position and, although her wounds were ghastly, there was no blood at the scene.
“What do you make of this?” Soren asked him.
“She wasn’t killed here. No blood. What do you think made those marks?”
“Her wounds? Neck, back, arms, thighs. I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“It’s like she was pierced ritualistically. The marks are oddly placed.” Nick thought for a moment. “What if it was a fetish thing gone wrong? Those could be hook marks for suspension.”
“You think this was sex play?”
Nick shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“There’s a tat on her wrist.”
Nick pulled on a pair of gloves and carefully tilted the victim’s arm. A diamond had been tattooed on her inner wrist with the old-timey letters NAVAK filling the interior space. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. “You ever seen anything like this?”
Soren glanced down at his feet.
“Soren?”
“Maybe, but, uh…” He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the team combing through the scene.
Nick dropped the woman’s wrist and peeled off his glove into a garbage bag. “Come on. In here.”
He led Soren toward a door that readSunrise House, its letters embossed over the orange face of a rising sun. It was quiet just inside the door, someplace private to talk. He ushered Soren inside. “Spill it.”
