Chapter Nine
Nick was the first one to arrive at the precinct that morning, much to his surprise. After a brief check of the folders and reports that seemed to be piling up on his desk, he moved to the conference room to begin that day's information dig.
A new folder was waiting for him when Nick arrived. Picking it up, Nick thumbed through the papers inside. Each piece of paper was dedicated to one of the victims from previous locations, not unlike the reports gathered by Matthew and Hector. On each page, however, was a single word written beside the victims' names in Renard's precise script.
Ziegevolk.
Steinadler.
Pflichttreue.
Skalengeck.
The list continued. Though not every victim was accounted for in the file, the evidence supporting Nick's theory was definitely piling up.
The door to the conference room opened and Hank stepped inside. "Ready for yet another fun-filled day of trying to play connect-the-dots without any actual dots?" he greeted Nick.
Nick gave him a half-smile. "Admit it," he replied. "You'd be bored if someone connected those dots for you."
Hank claimed his chair in the room and sank into it. "At this point I'd be willing to find out." He nodded at the folder Nick held in his hands. "Anything new to report?"
"Not really." Nick closed the folder but kept hold of it. "I'm a bit worried, though. This guy has been escalating up to one kill every twenty-four hours. Based on that timeline, we should be getting a call here pretty soon."
"And no victimology to pin down that would help us warn the public," Hank added. He shook his head. "We can't let this guy slip through our fingers. Even if the Marshals are tracking him; we need to make sure this guy ends up behind bars."
The door to the conference room opened again, admitting Matthew with a tray of drinks. He glanced around, picking up a cup and passing it to Hank. "Hector not in yet?"
"Haven't seen him," Nick replied, accepting the cup his brother passed him. He took a sip, his eyes flickering towards the board where pictures of the victims had been pinned. Twenty-six faces stared back at him, dating back about four years. Nothing in their pictures or in their backgrounds hinted at their lives as wesen despite Nick knowing the truth.
Matthew and Hank were discussing possible connections among victims involving their vehicles. Nick blocked them out, still staring at the wall of victims. He stepped closer, his eyes unconsciously slipping from faces to dates, his mind taking and twisting the information around, then breaking it apart again.
"Nick?"
Hank's voice was lost in the shuffle in Nick's head. Nick's eyes narrowed, catching some unseen thread and trying to tug at it.
Four years . . . but the Huntsman had been operating for much longer than that . . . signature . . .
Nick spun around, gaze landing on Matthew who had been watching him in interest. "How long have you and Hector been working together?"
Matthew's eyebrows shot up. "About six years."
"And you guys picked up this case when?" Nick pressed.
Matthew frowned at the images of victims, scanning them quickly before landing on one. His eyes dropped down to the date of her death. "Three years ago. We backtracked the killer's signature to the year before. Where are you going with this?"
Nick's eyes flickered over to include Hank. "What if this guy didn't start killing four years ago?" he asked. "What if he's been killing long before that?"
Matthew shook his head. "We already considered that," he said. "Hector and I ran the killer's M.O. across all known databases in the U.S. It's how we discovered the earlier kills."
The Huntsman . . . Royal Families . . .
Did you try running an international search?" Nick asked.
Matthew straightened, exchanging a stunned glance with Hank. "Er . . . no, we didn't. We didn't have any cause to."
"We still don't," Hank added. He glanced at the wall of victims, then back to Nick. "Unless you're seeing something I don't."
Nick's eyes slid to Matthew, who quirked an eyebrow expectantly.
"I think it's worth looking into," Nick finally said. "I hope I'm wrong about this, but you know as well as I do that the first victim is always the one with the strongest link to the killer. If Danning isn't the real first victim, that may be why we're having trouble making connections."
"I'm game if you are," Matthew said. "But I don't know anyone with connections to Interpol."
Nick smiled grimly, nodding at Hank. "We do."
". . . oui . . . tous les cas avec ce M.O. . . . toute agence, oui . . . vous pouvez m'envoyer les informations directemente . . . merci."
Renard placed the phone back in its cradle and turned to the three men watching him expectantly. "My contact will send me whatever he digs up on your M.O. I warn you; it might take awhile before we hear anything back from him."
"We appreciate the help, Captain," Hank told him, nodding.
Renard nodded back, his eyes cutting over to Nick. Nick stiffened his spine slightly as if challenging the captain's appraisal of his condition the night before.
Beside Nick, Matthew's gaze sharpened ever-so-slightly.
"Any other possible leads come up yet?" Renard asked. "I've got some very nervous politicians asking questions."
"Nothing we haven't already reported," Nick replied. "Honestly, it's a miracle that the press hasn't caught wind of this yet."
Hank gave him a dirty look. "Now why did you have to go and say a stupid thing like that?"
Renard's lips twitched. "Fate notwithstanding, Ms. Madison assures me that our statement is ready for that eventuality. Let's just do our best to catch this killer before that happens."
Nick and Hank nodded and headed towards the door when it opened, admitting Sergeant Wu with an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.
A chunk of ice dropped into the pit of Nick's stomach.
"Sergeant?" Renard prompted.
"We got another call." Wu's gaze moved from Renard to Hank, then Nick, before landing on Matthew. "There's been another murder."
The Huntsman's killings were among the more gruesome cases Nick had worked in his relatively short time as a police officer. No amount of experience could truly prepare you for seeing a decapitated body, and certainly not one with the head placed purposefully on the lap, the victim's face frozen forever in a mask of horror.
And nothing could prepare Nick for the shock of seeing that mask on the face of somebody he knew.
Hector Ruiz's body was sitting up in his motel room bed, head balanced in his lap as if in the middle of watching the television despite the grotesque pose. The blood spatter near the dresser told the macabre story of his final moments, taken by surprise in a place of relative safety.
Flashes of light from outside the room accompanied by relentless questions punctuated the gruesome scene and the realization that the general anonymity of the killing spree was well and truly over. Nick spared a thought for his meeting with Renard and Frank Rabe mere hours before and wondered if they had managed to at least spread the warning among the wesen community.
Nick exchanged solemn looks with Hank, then glanced on his other side where Matthew was staring at his partner's body with a blank look on his face. Nick tried to imagine himself in his brother's shoes, staring at Hank's murdered form, and felt his gut twist.
"We're going to get this guy," Nick promised Matthew. "He's going to pay for this."
Something flashed in Matthew's eyes too quickly for Nick to catch. "He's going to regret ever crossing my path."
Nick heard the dark promise in Matthew's tone but couldn't bring himself to respond.
A sudden swell of noise from the reporters drew their attention to the door. Renard stepped into the room, nodding at the officers guarding the door, and joined his detectives at the foot of the bed.
"No strangers or witnesses noticed by the staff here," the captain stated, glancing briefly at Hector's body. "I've got techs collecting footage from every security camera in the area just in case." His eyes moved to Matthew. "When was the last time you saw your partner alive?"
Matthew met his gaze, lifting his chin in a slight challenge. "Last night," he replied. "I was out late with Nick," he nodded at the younger man, "then I came back here. I checked in with Hector on our game plan for today." Matthew wilted slightly as another thought occurred to him. "I . . . I knocked on his door this morning on my way to Nick's; wanted to see if he wanted me to bring him back breakfast or something. He never answered . . . I just assumed he was still asleep . . ."
His words trailed away. No one in the room confirmed nor denied the thought that Hector had probably already been dead by then. The medical examiner's report would tell them as much.
"It just doesn't add up," Hank stated.
Everyone's eyes turned to him.
Hank waved a hand over the scene before them. "All of this guy's other victims were attacked and killed in the open. Hector's attack inside his own room doesn't fit."
"Maybe the killer thought he was getting too close to the truth," Nick suggested.
"Maybe," Hank allowed, though his tone suggested he didn't quite believe it. "But closer than the rest of us? Unless he was running some leads down on the side that we don't know about, I doubt it. Besides, something tells me that Hector doesn't fit our victimology."
"I thought you hadn't determined a connection between your victims yet," Renard said.
Idly, Nick couldn't help but admire how inscrutable his captain was. If he hadn't known who Renard really was, he would have believed that Renard truly didn't know about the wesen connection.
"We haven't," Matthew stated.
Hank shrugged. "I can't explain it," he admitted. "Call it gut instinct if you want, but I know that Hector's death breaks our killer's pattern. I just don't know why."
"Maybe we can figure that out back at the precinct," Nick suggested. He turned back to Matthew. "It might be a good idea for you to stay with me in case this guy comes back."
"I agree," Renard interjected. He turned to Hank. "In fact, it might be a good idea if none of you are left alone."
"This guy isn't chasing me out of my home," Hank stated flatly. "I have a state of the art security system. No way is he getting past that without me knowing about it."
"All the same, I'm going to add both your residences to an additional patrol," Renard told them. "But if there's even a whisper that you're next on his list, all three of you are going into protective custody until this guy is caught."
"Captain-," Hank began to protest.
"Understood, sir." Nick heard the ring of authority in Renard's tone that told him his position was immovable. He gave his partner a warning look. Hank grimaced at him but kept silent.
Renard nodded. "Good." He glanced out at the line of reporters hungry for information. "I'm going to try and get the press out of here and arrange for a press conference for later. I suggest you get Marshal Becker checked out before you head to the precinct."
Nick nodded and glanced at Matthew. Matthew cast a final look at Hector, his jaw tightening, before following his brother from the room.
"Oh, and Nick?"
Nick paused just outside the door and turned back.
Hank moved past him and patted Nick on the arm. "I'll get your brother squared away."
Nick nodded his thanks at his partner and stepped back into the room. "Sir?"
Renard glanced at the officers at the door briefly, then turned to Nick. "Is Hank right? Does Hector fall outside the victim profile?"
Nick reflected back on his interactions with the Marshal before responding.
"I . . . believe so," he finally said. "I've never seen anything to suggest otherwise."
"Then our killer is expanding outside his M.O.," Renard stated, mostly to himself. He glanced around the room, eyes lingering on the blood splatter. "I doubt Marshal Ruiz was the sort of man to leave his door unlocked, or to let strangers into his room."
"You think he knew the killer?" Nick asked.
Renard was silent for a long moment. "Either that, or our killer has the ability to appear nonthreatening to veteran law enforcement officers." His gaze pierced Nick's. "Keep your guard up."
Nick had the feeling that Renard was trying to give him a warning of a different kind, but he couldn't figure out what that was. Instead of replying, he nodded sharply and left.
To his surprise, Matthew was waiting right outside for him. Nick gave him a double-take, then looked around. "Where's Hank?"
Matthew fell into step beside him as they headed to the parking lot, ignoring the reporters throwing questions their way with practiced ease. "He offered to take my bag to the car for me." He gestured back the way they'd come. "What was that all about?"
"What was what all about?" Nick asked.
"Your captain," Matthew said. He glanced at Nick, his gaze more searching than Nick was comfortable with. "He seems to know more than he lets on."
Nick gave a half-shrug. "He's a police captain," he offered up lamely. "I'm sure there's a lot he's aware of."
Matthew was unconvinced. He stopped walking suddenly, a hand on Nick's shoulder bringing him to a halt as well.
"Do you really know what kind of man your captain is?" Matthew asked pointedly.
Nick's mind immediately brought up his memories over the last several days. "More than most," he answered.
Matthew studied him closely as if trying to discern what Nick knew from his expression alone.
"There's more to your captain than I think even you know," Matthew finally said. "I've already lost a partner to this guy by underestimating him. I won't make that mistake again, and I won't let you make it either."
With that, Matthew stalked off to where Hank was waiting beside their car. Nick watched him go, then turned back to see Renard speaking before a crowd of microphones and tape recorders. For a brief moment, Renard's eyes slid over and caught Nick's, but they returned to the reporters just as quickly.
Shaking the moment off, Nick moved to join Hank and Matthew.
The morning had been a blur of running down Hector's last movements, gathering evidence to add to their wall in the conference room, and giving their PR contact whatever updates they could. By early afternoon, Matthew had begged off lunch for time to himself to make personal calls and to check in and update his supervisors. Hank had to leave for a follow-up meeting with the DA's office on another case, leaving Nick to fend for himself. He had just been about to call in an order from the nearest deli when a phone call from Frank Rabe had come in.
Nick ducked inside the café, glancing around and giving Sarah a smile and nod before heading to the table where Frank was waiting for him.
Frank gave him a tight smile as he slid into the seat across the table. "Nick. Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such short notice."
"It sounded important," Nick replied. "Besides, we're still friends." He tilted his head inquisitively. "Aren't we?"
Frank's smile was a little warmer. "I like to think so, but after this past week, I didn't want to assume."
Nick shrugged, glancing to one side. "None of that was your fault," he said quietly. "Besides, I probably overstepped by going to your house like I did, and for that I apologize."
"Already forgotten," Frank assured him.
Nick gave him a small smile as Sarah arrived for their orders. As soon as she moved away, Nick leaned forward slightly. "You mentioned on the phone that we needed to talk. About the Huntsman?"
Frank shushed Nick, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard them. Nick glanced around as well, but couldn't find anybody in the café remotely interested in their conversation.
"That's not a name you should be tossing around," Frank advised, pitching his tone low as he leaned over the table slightly. "Wesen have significantly sharper senses, hearing in particular. You never know who might be listening in."
Nick nodded at the warning. "Well?"
"He's . . . one of the reasons I called," Frank confessed. "I also wanted to check in with you on the other matter we discussed over our last lunch."
Nick cast his mind back over the past week, searching for the memory Frank was alluding to. It took him a moment, but when he recalled their discussion of a new Grimm in Portland, his eyes narrowed. "Did Renard put you up to this?"
Frank frowned, confused. "His highness' last conversation with me was, er . . . interrupted by your unexpected arrival. We've been preoccupied with our other visitor to town."
Nick relaxed, but only slightly. He mustered up a smile for Sarah as she returned with their drinks, but it fell as soon as she left. He toyed with the straw she had left on the table for him.
"Sorry," he said. "He asked me the other day . . . it's hard to trust him with information when I don't know what he'll do with it."
"My oath to him requires me to be completely up front with information he requests," Frank replied. "However, there may be a way for me to get information to be of use to me without betraying confidences."
Nick picked up his straw, peeling back the paper and plunking it into his water. "How?"
Frank considered his options. "A rumor was shared regarding a new Grimm's arrival to Portland. Do you happen to know if this is true?"
Nick's lips quirked slightly. "I do."
Frank nodded. "Do you know if the wesen in Portland should be concerned about this rumor?"
"I believe the wesen in Portland have bigger things to watch out for," Nick answered.
Frank hesitated, and Nick found himself dreading the next question coming his way.
"Is it possible that these two visitors might be the same person?" he asked.
The denial was razor-sharp and out of Nick's mouth before his brain fully registered what Frank had suggested. "No. Absolutely not."
"Nick-," Frank began.
"Frank, no," Nick cut him off.
"Just hear me out," Frank insisted. "I have to ask; you know I do. You brought me a rumor of a new Grimm in town right before the murders started. And now these murders all fit the signature of another wesen nightmare."
Nick gave him a look.
"No offense," Frank conceded, but pressed forward. "But as one of said wesen, the odds of encountering one Grimm, you, were already fairly high. A second Grimm was extremely unlikely. And now this latest development? Nick, that's not just coincidence. It's a statistical improbability."
"I don't care," Nick said. "There's no way they're the same person." Then, deciding to throw caution to the wind, he added, "The latest victim was discovered this morning; he was his partner of the last six years. They aren't the same person; they can't be."
An awkward silence descended over the table. Sarah chose that moment to bring them their food. She picked up on the heavy mood instantly, but to her credit she kept up her bright personality and delivered their dishes with her usual chipper mood. After checking to see if either man needed anything else, she left them alone.
The two men began to rearrange their food, preparing to eat, in utter silence. Frank snuck a glance at Nick and took a deep breath.
"I hope you know that I didn't set out to offend or upset you," he told Nick. "The question needed to be asked."
Nick sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. "I'm not used to being on this side of the questioning, if I'm being completely honest," he stated.
"I can understand that," Frank replied. He smiled faintly. "Better than most, really."
Nick snorted in amusement.
The tension seeped from Frank's shoulders at the sound. "Thank you, by the way, for reaching out to us about your suspicions about your murderer. We were able to get word out and safety precautions in place just before it broke with the press.
"It's really all Monroe," Nick replied. "He's been helping me to understand exactly what we're dealing with."
Frank nodded. "And do you happen to know what you're dealing with?"
Nick's expression darkened. "A very dark, very careful son of a bitch. The only thing we've been able to pin down, more or less, is that he's killing wesen."
"More or less?" Frank echoed.
"The murder this morning," Nick said. "One of the Marshals assigned to the case. Who, as far as I am aware, wasn't wesen."
Frank's eyebrows shot up. "A human? Was he Kehrseite, perhaps?"
"Um . . . that depends," Nick said.
"On what?" Frank asked.
"On what that means," Nick replied sheepishly.
Frank smiled. "A human who knows about us," he told Nick. "They aren't wesen, or Grimms, but know about the community. Do you think your Marshal could have been Kehrseite?"
"I . . . don't know," Nick answered. "Is that a thing? Humans who know about wesen? I thought you couldn't tell them about . . ." He waved a hand in Frank's direction. "All this."
"In general, no, we can't," Frank admitted. "The Gesetzbuch Ehrenkodex set down by the Wesen Council in 1521 forbids wesen from exposing themselves to humans, among other things, on pain of death, but there are exceptions. Mostly, the majority of humans cannot handle the reality of our existence. History is filled with examples of humans who have been committed to asylums with mental breaks or who have snapped and persecuted hundreds of people, humans and wesen alike."
"But some don't," Nick persisted.
"No." Frank drew out the word. "Some don't. Usually, it's unavoidable, such as when a human and a wesen marry. Or if a human with no wesen characteristics is born to a human and wesen parents. Things like that."
Nick poked at his food contemplatively. "Cases like this would be so much easier if my partner knew about wesen. He's been spinning his wheels trying to come up with a connection among our victims, and it kills me that I can't tell him what's really going on."
"You're definitely not alone in your frustrations," Frank commiserated. "I can't tell you how many cases I've tried where simply telling the truth about certain clients would have cleared the whole matter up."
Nick stared at Frank intently. "So why not try it?"
"Tell me, Nick," Frank replied. "What do you think your partner would say if you were to go back to your precinct right now and tell him that all of your victims weren't humans, but were actually creatures living as humans? Creatures, mind you, that you can't actually prove exist?"
Nick leaned back in his chair, scowling. "Point taken. I probably wouldn't believe me either." A thought occurred to him and he brightened, his eyes lifting back to Frank.
Frank held up a finger. "Just stop right there. That's an even worse idea than just telling him."
Nick refused to be dissuaded. "How do you even know what I was going to say?"
Frank lifted an eyebrow.
Nick waved a hand. "Fine. How could it be worse? I mean, seeing is believing, right? If he saw someone woge-."
"And what did you do the first time you saw a wesen woge?" Frank asked pointedly.
"I . . . I thought I was going crazy," Nick admitted, slumping slightly.
Frank hummed. "I also remember you trying to avoid looking at my son when you saw him woge." He shook his head. "To be honest, looking back, that's probably the best reaction I could have hoped for, especially from a Grimm"
Seeing the look of discouragement on Nick's face, Frank felt compelled to add, "You are, of course, welcome to seek a second or third opinion, but I'm afraid you'll likely get the same answer."
Nick nodded morosely, returning to picking through his lunch.
The two continued working through their lunch in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.
"How is Barry doing?" Nick asked after a while. "Are he and his friends doing all right with all of this?"
Parental concern crossed Frank's face. "As well as you would expect," he answered. "The youth center held a memorial for Ms. Holliday yesterday; that seemed to help them express some of their grief. I sat down with Barry this morning to explain who we believe killed her."
"You told him?" Nick asked, surprised.
"Of course," Frank replied. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Isn't it a little . . . violent?" Nick asked.
Frank's expression was serious. "Wesen children are taught control and situational awareness from a very young age," he told the Grimm. "Our children can make more dangerous mistakes than human children; it's better that they're fully informed from the start."
"How did he take the news?" Nick wanted to know.
"Better than I would have expected," Frank admitted. "A year ago it wouldn't have surprised me to find him talking with his friends about hunting him down first. But he was very shaken by the news and immediately spoke to the counselors at the center about plans to protect the other kids there."
Nick grinned. "He's a good kid."
"I think so," Frank replied with a proud grin of his own. He glanced at his watch. "I need to be going, but before I do, I wanted to share one more thing with you."
"What's that?" Nick asked.
Frank glanced around the café once more, then turned back to Nick.
"The Prince felt that this may be better received coming from me," Frank stated.
Nick felt himself start to close off from the conversation at the mention of Renard's alter ego.
Frank held up a hand. "I know. But please hear me out."
Nick nodded mutely.
"His highness told me that, during his meeting with your aunt, that your aunt shared some information with him," Frank said.
"What kind of information?" Nick asked, his insatiable curiosity overtaking his reticence in hearing anything Renard had to say.
"He didn't say," Frank said delicately. "What he did say was that, when you were ready to hear it, he would set aside some time to share it with you."
"When I'm 'ready'?" Nick ground out around gritted teeth.
"Yes," Frank said firmly. "When your first reaction to hearing his highness' name isn't to immediately curse his existence, then you'll be ready to hear the message your aunt left with him."
Nick looked away, jaw still clenched tight.
Frank glanced at his watch again, then signaled for the check. "The message isn't going anywhere," he said gently. "And I imagine you have plenty else to deal with right now. Just think about it."
Nick turned his gaze back to Frank for a long moment, then gave an aborted nod.
As they settled their bills with Sarah, packing up uneaten food for later, Nick couldn't help but let his mind wander over what his aunt Marie could possibly have shared with the Prince of Portland that she couldn't have shared with him.
Nick was- grudgingly- beginning to accept that his aunt had far more secrets than even her history as a Grimm. Combined with the knowledge of a brother he hadn't even known existed, Nick was starting to wonder whether he really knew his aunt after all.
