Amber offered to make a pot of coffee while the five of us gathered around the table in the war room. We thanked the agents in the tech department for their help, and they left to get back to their usual duties.
Gladys knocked on the glass door, and Spelling waved her in.
“I’ve completed my analysis, sir.”
“Please, come in, Gladys, and show us what you have.”
She entered the room and set both letters in plastic sleeves on the table. Her notes were listed in bullet points on a legal pad to her right.
“Okay, see how he capitalizes almost every E? Both letters are like that.” She pointed at the examples with her pencil. “He also uses a slight downward slant at the end of most words. His o’s are usually open at the top, and what I thought was the most telling of the same author was that sometimes he wrote in cursive and sometimes he didn’t. That’s unique to people who are distracted or have too many thoughts in their heads at once. The writing pressure appears the same in both letters too. My opinion is that the letters were written by the same author.”
“That’s exactly what we needed to hear, Gladys. Thank you very much.”
She smiled at Spelling, then at the rest of us around the table. She excused herself and closed the door at her back.
The DNA comparison was all that remained. The forensics department told SSA Spelling that we should have the results within the hour. As we waited for word, we compiled everything we knew. Agent Spelling asked J.T. to name every area where people were found dead at the hands of Max Sims.
J.T. pulled out his phone and scrolled to the page of notes he had compiled in notepad form, which he intended to print out. “I’ll read them off my phone. It’ll go faster that way.”
Spelling nodded the go-ahead while he stood next to the US map on the wall.
“Okay, I’m beginning where we took on the case. We still don’t know what he did prior to that, other than killing John Pratt in Hensley, Arkansas.”
“Hold on, J.T. I’ll stick a push pin there as our starting point.” Agent Spelling drove a red push pin into the map at Hensley, Arkansas. He motioned for J.T. to continue.
“The semi belonging to Fred West was from Conway, Arkansas, and dumped near Bull Shoals-White River State Park.” Spelling added more pins. “From there, we don’t know how he reached Lake of the Ozarks State Park, but that was where Jade and I came in on the scene.”
Another pin was pushed into the map. “We’re assuming that’s when he caught a ride with Ray Moore and continued north,” Spelling said.
“That’s correct, sir. They went north on State Highway 54 to I-70, where they turned east. They took the interstate to Effingham then cut north on I-57. Brooklyn and Ray Moore were located a mile or so up the road. Jane was kidnapped south of Champaign at the truck stop she worked at, and the police officer and Todd Johnson were killed in Thomasboro, Illinois.” J.T. waited as Spelling added pins. “Jane was dumped in Danforth, Illinois, and the last known whereabouts of Max was at the motel in Matteson, where he killed the runaway. From that point on, we don’t have any information.” J.T. gave each face a concerned look. “We’re assuming he’s heading this way, especially because of the letter sent to Jade’s house and postmarked from Matteson.”
Spelling ground his fist into his bloodshot eyes. “What I don’t understand is why the heads-up.”
I offered my opinion. “You’d have to know Max, sir. He’s fearless, or just stupid, and takes orders from his old man, Darryl Sims, who’s locked up at Boscobel.”
“Yes, I know the story, but the father still controls what Max does, even as a grown man?”
“Apparently so, and I must be the next person on his hit list. Max is calling me out, hence the second letter. He thinks he’s smarter than all of us and will get away again, and old man Sims is probably feeding right into that theory. He doesn’t care about Max’s welfare. Max is a tool for Darryl, nothing more. He’s a minion meant to carry out the deeds Darryl wants done from behind prison bars.”
When the coffeepot beeped, Amber pushed back her chair. She brought the carafe and a stack of cups to the table and set them down. I gave her a quick smile and nodded a thank-you. She stared at me with concern written across her face.
“Is there something you want to add, Amber?”
“I’m just confused, that’s all. I know Max needed to stay scarce for a while until the attention died down and his trail went cold, but why resurface now? If you’re his main target, then why kill so many people in the process of coming back to Wisconsin?”
“Good question, Amber,” Spelling said.
“I believe the recent killings were something to occupy Max’s time, and he thought he could get away with it using the ‘bear killings’ ruse. When that fell apart, he tortured and killed people for the pure enjoyment of it. You’d have to know the Sims history, boss.” I poured several cups of coffee and passed them out. “They just like to kill. There isn’t always a trigger, especially with serial killers like them. Darryl Sims began killing twenty or more years ago and had Max assist him. He was only a teenager at the time, but I believe he grew to enjoy it. Taking somebody’s life gave him a sense of power that he didn’t get anywhere else. Max never had a girlfriend or wife, but he wanted to control women, and that’s how he did it, by killing them. Killing men wasn’t on his playlist, so to speak. It was only out of necessity at times. Women were his main targets unless Darryl specified someone in particular.” I sighed deeply then went on. “After Darryl was incarcerated, Max continued on his own. We only know of the deaths Darryl orchestrated for Max to carry out this past year. There may be more, but we don’t know that for sure. One thing we do know is that Max liked using a variety of torture and killing tools. In the past, he enjoyed silencing women with ball gags. He used hammers, skinning knives—tools of the trade, one might say, for their deaths. It seems like he’s continuing in that same manner, hence the backpack probably filled with those morbid types of devices. The Neko Te seemed to be his weapon of choice this time until he lost one of the claws.” I took a swallow of coffee and waited for somebody else to speak.
The door creaked open, and Hal Friedman from forensics stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the DNA comparison is complete.”
Spelling set down his coffee cup. “And what are the results?”
“They’re a match, sir.”
“That’s damn good news. Thanks, Hal. Now we can set up that APB for Max Sims and change the digital freeway signs to reflect a black Ford Focus with Illinois plates. Also, he may have passed through the tollbooths if he is already in Wisconsin.” Spelling lifted the receiver for the phone on the table and tapped button number six. “Agent Williams, it’s SSA Spelling. We need all of the tollbooth cameras coming into Wisconsin from the Illinois side checked for a black Ford Focus, Illinois plate number A69-HHY. Get some agents on it right away. Check from this morning until now. Have the Illinois State Patrol alert the tollbooth personnel to flag that vehicle if it hasn’t come through yet but does anytime in the next few days. All right everyone”—he smacked the table with his open hands—“it’s time to get some sleep. We’ll be starting again first thing in the morning. There are plenty of agents and law enforcement personnel in the area that can keep their eyes peeled for that car. The noose is tightening around Max Sims’s neck, and he isn’t going to slip away this time.” Spelling stood, shook Jack and Amber’s hands, and thanked them for their help.
J.T.’s car and my own were still at the Glendale office and had been for nearly a week.
“Amber, I’ll be home soon. I have to pick up my car first. Jack, would you mind hanging out at my house until I get there?”
“Not a bit. We’ll see you soon, and don’t worry about your mom’s house, either. The guys said everything is quiet there.”
“Thanks, Jack.” I gave his hand a squeeze and hugged Amber. “I’ll be about a half hour behind you guys.”