The Carving Knife

By Claudia Hall Christian

Forty years after he stumbles upon the horrific mutilation of a team of U.S. Rangers in Vietnam, Seth O’Malley wanders into a cat-and-mouse game with a mutilating psychopath. After murdering and mutilating some of the best detectives in the country, the psychopath is looking to mutilate the big prize—Seth O’Malley.

As Ava and her team investigate the unusual markings on the remains of immigrants found dead in the deserts of Arizona, Seth travels Colorado investigating cattle mutilation until an old friend points him in the right direction. In a race against time, Seth must keep his friend and housekeeper, Maresol, from being the next victim, and in the process he must confront a demon from his past.

The Carving Knife is fast ride through the Colorado landscape of UFOs, cattle mutilation, and demons to catch the real psychopath behind the blade.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cook Street Publishing cookstreetpublishinggmail.com
• Release date: Sep 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781938057137

Claudia Hall Christian

Claudia Hall Christian writes stories about good people caught in difficult situations. Her stories are addictive, heart pounding, and intense. She is the author of the Alex the Fey thriller series, the Queen of Cool, the Seth and Ava Mysteries, Suffer a Witch, Abee Normal Paranormal Investigations, and the longest consecutive serial fiction ever written, Denver Cereal. She lives in Denver where she keeps bees, gardens, hangs out with her Plott Hounds, and husband

Book preview

"Ding"

Seth O’Malley looked up from his jetlag-fueled stare, and the elevator doors opened. He nodded to the newly minted State Attorney, Brent Davies, and stepped onto the elevator. The elevator was surprisingly warm. In his fog, Seth wondered if the elevator had risen straight out of hell.

You didn’t park in the lot? Brent asked. He tugged the sleeve of his tailored suit so that it lay perfectly over his French-cuffed white shirt.

Ava dropped me off, Seth said.

Ava. Brent let the word roll off his tongue. Ava. He paused for a moment before saying, Oh, you mean Amelie Alvin.

My wife, Seth said.

You’re doing it right, O’Malley. Brent nodded as if he agreed with something Seth had said. When I’m your age, I’m going have a hot twenty-year-old. Although, I don’t know whether I’d marry her, and, really, the whole opinion-a-minute, professional-woman thing . . . It’s all too complicated. Just a hot twenty-year-old; that’s what I want.

Seth turned up the edges of his mouth in something like a smile before turning to face the elevator entrance. The elevator doors slid closed. The State Attorney used the mirrored reflection to make sure his jet-black hair was perfectly arranged.

Oddly warm, isn’t it? Brent asked.

Seth nodded. Brent leaned toward the elevator doors to make sure his vibrant blue contacts were straight.

These old buildings get overheated in the fall, Brent said.

Seth glanced at him. The Denver Police Headquarters was a little more than ten years old. Brent gave him another of those agreeing nods. Seth wondered if they taught those nods at law school. The elevator slowed at the second floor. The doors opened to reveal a bedraggled teenage boy, his stunned, grieving mother, and an attorney in a cheap suit. The attorney took a step toward the elevator.

Official business, Brent said.

He gave the attorney a bleached-white-toothed grin. The boy looked terrified. Intimidated by the politician’s presence, the attorney stepped away from the elevator. The elevator doors closed, and they started to rise toward the Denver Police Chief’s office.

Listen, I wanted to ask you something . . . Brent said.

Seth turned to look at the young man. With Seth’s look, Brent stretched to his full five-foot-eight-inches in lifts.

What can I do for you? Seth asked.

I was up in Grand County last weekend, Brent said.

Skiing already? Seth asked, in an attempt to divert this conversation.

No, Brent said. Investments, condos . . . outside of Fraser. Good deal; plenty of money to be made. Is there snow?

I’ve been out of the country, Seth said.

That’s right, Brent said. "I read in the Denver Post that you were playing for the Queen."

I had the pleasure of playing for her. Seth smiled at the piano concerto he’d written for the Queen of England.

Royal Albert Hall. Brent looked closely at Seth in a practiced effort to show he cared. I bet that was fun.

Seth gave him a vague look. The State Attorney fell silent. For a moment, Seth thought he’d succeeded in avoiding the conversation.

Never been to London, Brent said. But like I said, I was coming home from Grand County.

What can I do for you? Seth repeated.

I heard Éowyn was staying at your family’s homestead, Brent said.

Seth gave the State Attorney an even smile. Ava’s sister Éowyn had been dating Brent when her father, the then-State Attorney, Aaron Alvin, was indicted for felony pandering and kidnapping, among other charges. In an effort to distance himself from her father and grab his job, Brent had dumped Éowyn.

She is, Seth managed.

I stopped by on my way back, Brent said. You know, Éowyn always loved a surprise f . . . Uh.

Brent’s eyes reviewed Seth.

Sex, Seth said.

Love. Brent flushed red and shifted as if his body were responding to Seth’s mention of the word sex. I love Éowyn. Or loved . . .

Brent cleared his throat. Seth was starting to believe that this was possibly the longest elevator ride of entire his fifty-nine years.

Anyway, I pulled in and parked near the house, Brent said. I was on my way to the house when I was stopped by this . . . uh . . .

Sergeant Gardner Thomas? Seth asked. He goes by Switch.

Black man, Brent said. He sounded like a black man, and it was dark. But he looked sort of reddish-beige or . . .

My caretaker? Seth asked.

Him, Brent said. I thought I might be mugged.

You dropped by my homestead to have sex with Éowyn and ran into my caretaker.

Yes. Well, I told him I was there to see Éowyn. Brent gave Seth a sparkling smile. "Éowyn always loved seeing me—day or night."

Brent gave another agreeing nod to his own outrageous claim. For emphasis, he added another Always.

Seth found his head moving up and down.

That n . . . uh, man . . .

Sergeant Thomas?

Sergeant Thomas, yes, Brent nodded. He indicated that Éowyn was unavailable. When I told him that she was always available to me, he . . .

Brent cleared his throat. Seth raised his eyebrows.

Let’s just say that he was quite crass, Brent said.

Seth gave the State Attorney his most sincere look. Switch had called to report the entire incident the moment Brent’s tires met the highway. Switch had told the State Attorney that Éowyn was not some heifer in standing heat ready to be serviced by just any old zealous bull who happened to by wandering by.

He all but threw me off the property, Brent said. Big guy.

Army Sergeant, Seth said in agreement. Active duty. He’s an Olympic marksman.

Dangerous, Brent said. How did you find him?

His uncle cared for the property for twenty-some years, Seth said. They moved to a smaller place outside of Las Vegas, New Mexico when their last child left for college. Switch was assigned to teach at the Fort around the same time, so it was an easy transition.

Oh, Brent said.

The elevator crept up a few more floors. Seth thought the conversation was over, when Brent cleared his throat.

I . . . and Éowyn, she . . . Brent said.

She lives there now, Seth said.

I knew she was . . . uh . . . she resigned from the DA’s office, Brent said.

The Denver Sheriff’s Office had forcefully removed Éowyn from the DA’s office when her father’s involvement in her employment there became public knowledge. Brent blinked at his lie.

She owns a small yarn shop in Granby, Seth said.

Yarn? Brent looked surprised. He abruptly leaned forward to check his tie. He tugged the knot a millimeter to the left. You know, we were engaged.

The elevator bell rang, signaling that they had finally reached their destination.

I may have dodged a bullet, Brent said. I mean . . .

The elevator doors opened.

I wanted her to have my children, Brent said.

You must be disappointed, Seth said.

They stepped off the elevator. A young uniformed police officer and her partner walked toward them from the Chief of Police’s office.

There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Brent gave the women a dazzling smile. Right, O’Malley?

Seth nodded a hello to the young police officers and opened the door to the Chief’s office. Brent stepped through the doors. Seth glanced to the elevator landing, where the women were laughing at the State Attorney. Seth smiled at their ridicule and went into the Chief’s office.

The small waiting area crackled with tension. The receptionist was speaking in a low, but frantic, tone on the phone.

I simply do not have time for this, the State Attorney said. You tell the Chief that . . .

The receptionist looked up and noticed Seth. He nodded hello. She said something into the phone and hung up.

The Chief will be right out, the receptionist said. Would you like to . . .?

I’d like to have my meeting and get on with my day, Brent said.

Seth glanced at the five-foot-wide wall clock behind the receptionist’s desk. They were five minutes early. Seth had known this police chief through a variety of police departments over the last twenty years. He was never late, and never early. Seth took a seat while the State Attorney continued his indignant rant.

At exactly nine o’clock, the Chief’s personal assistant entered the lobby from the back.

Mr. Davies? Detective O’Malley? the woman said. The Chief will see you now.

TWO

Still muttering his complaints, Brent followed the woman down the hall. The woman turned left and Brent waited for Seth. The State Attorney raised his eyebrows and gestured to the police officer’s rear.

Oh, come on, Brent said in a low tone. Admit it. You were looking too.

Newlywed, Seth shrugged.

Brent laughed and put his arm around Seth’s shoulder. They entered the Chief’s office together. The Chief of Police’s dark eyes flicked from Brent’s hand on Seth’s shoulder to the uncomfortable look on Seth’s face. He paused longer than necessary before stepping forward.

Nice to see you, Mr. Davies. The Chief held out his hand to Brent.

Brent retrieved his hand from Seth’s shoulder and shook the Chief’s hand.

O’Malley. The Chief nodded to him.

Sir, Seth said.

Seth found an armchair in the meeting area of the room and sat down to wait. The young State Attorney made small talk for a while until the Chief gestured to an armchair next to Seth. The State Attorney sat down.

I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re . . . , the Chief started, as he sat across from them.

Actually, I called this meeting, the State Attorney said. I was speaking with the Chief about a few unsolved cases here in Colorado, and he told me that you were available.

Seth shot the Chief a look. The Chief raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. Seth glanced at the State Attorney.

What can I do for you? Seth asked, for the third time.

It’s my understanding that you were hired to work cases which local authorities do not have the resources to pursue, Brent said.

He is employed by my office, the Chief said.

You won’t mind if I borrow him. Brent gave the Chief a commanding smile.

I . . . , the Chief started.

I work on contract, Seth said. At my age, you can imagine, I’m not really up for everything.

Brent’s smile soured. He gave Seth a dark look.

But you’ll do what I ask, Brent said.

I . . . , Seth started.

You’ll do what I ask, Brent commanded.

What can I do for you? Seth tried for a fourth time.

Chief? Brent nodded for the Chief to speak.

The Chief shot Seth a look before getting up. He walked to his desk and picked up a thin file and a thick, battered file.

The State Attorney believes you might be able to assist us with a couple of cases.

What are they? Seth asked.

If you’re able to resolve these cases, Mr. Davies has assured us that his office will assist with our cold-case budget, the Chief said. You know the grant from the Feds is all but used up.

I know money is not an issue for a rich guy like you, O’Malley, Brent said. But this is a small state. We accomplish more by supporting each other.

What are the cases? Seth asked.

I had one for you, and then . . . The Chief’s eyes flicked to the State Attorney.

I made a little wager that you wouldn’t be able to solve the other one, Brent said.

What is it? Seth asked.

Uh . . . The Chief delayed revealing the case by digging around his desk for the reading glasses he always kept in the front compartment of his top left drawer. The first case is . . . Let’s see . . .

Seth knew the Chief was stalling. He wasn’t sure why, so he waited.

Seems a man has been playing his bagpipes in Denver Mountain Parks, the Chief said.

A naked man, Brent sneered.

Ah, Seth nodded.

Seems he’s frightening the children. The Chief held out the file to Seth.

His testicles hang below the bagpipes, the State Attorney said.

They would. Seth suppressed a laugh.

This is no laughing matter, Detective O’Malley, Brent said. "Children have been frightened by his . . ."

The State Attorney gestured to his genital area. Seth raised his eyebrows to make him say it.

Junk, Brent said.

I see, Seth said. He looked down to read the report. There’s only one incident report.

‘I’ve spoken to a number of the park employees, Brent said. They’ve seen him all over the Denver Mountain Parks."

You’ve spoken . . .? Seth looked down at the report. Oh, I see. Your name is on this report. Did you . . .?

I was hiking with my . . . Brent cleared his throat and blinked. A friend . . . of my . . . uh . . . sister’s and her children. We were at Lookout Mountain and . . . we saw . . . I mean the children . . .

Your sister’s friend’s children, Seth said.

Half-sister, but yes, that’s it, Brent said.

Seth looked down at his hands to keep from laughing.

Anything you can do about it? the Chief asked.

Right this moment? Seth turned over his left wrist to look at his watch. Not a thing. What’s the other case?

But you’ll look into it? Brent asked. You’ll find this bastard?

Of course. Seth gave his most sincere nod. I will take care of the naked bagpiper.

You’d better, Brent said.

And the other? Seth asked.

This matter just came to my attention, Brent said.

The Chief winced when he held out the file to Seth. Seth flipped the file open.

Livestock mutilation? Seth asked. His voice and eyebrows rose with surprise. You want me to solve the mystery of livestock mutilation?

Are you aware that there are more than ten thousand documented cattle mutilations a year? Brent asked.

I am aware that some people say that, Seth said. The actual statistics are . . .

Then you’re just the right man for the job. Brent gave an annoying nod. You see, Chief, he’s . . .

The FBI did two full-scale investigations into this very topic, Seth said.

In the mid-1970s, yes, I’m aware of that, Brent said. But even you have to know that those reports are fraught with fraud. Now I know you old guys . . .

Brent looked from the Chief to Seth.

 . . . believe in the authority of the FBI, but . . .

Did you listen to Art Bell’s paranormal radio program on your way home from Grand County? Seth asked.

Who? Brent asked. I’d like a fresh pair of eyes on this cattle-mutilation thing.

Unsure of what to say, Seth looked at the Chief.

Are you saying you can’t do it? Brent’s voice mimicked a taunting schoolyard bully.

I’m saying that it’s been done, Seth said.

If it’s been solved, why is there no agreement on the cause? Brent asked.