Conway’s laughter tinkled from my phone. “How’re you enjoying being sole SSA of Delta A and temporary SSA of Delta B?”
“Claude can come home any time,” I said. “Delta B is not like Delta A.” I leaned forward and read an email that arrived on my screen. There was no other team like Delta A. Conway bound us together so tightly we almost thought as a single entity at times. “You could come home too. We just got an invitation to a new case.”
“Interesting?”
“How quickly can you and Lee wrap up the investigation in Richmond?”
“We’re almost done, just report writing now.” She paused. “We were planning to head home tomorrow.” I could hear her mind working. “Is the new case that interesting?”
“Yeah, yeah, it is.” I read the email again before speaking. Very interesting. “I think we’re looking at a serial killer in Northern Virginia.”
“We’re coming. Be there tonight,” Conway said, sparks ignited her voice. “Where’s Sam?”
A shadow loomed in my doorway.
“About to walk into my office.”
“Accept the case. We’ll hit the road in about two hours. See you tonight.”
“Stay safe.” I hung up and called out to the shadow that hovered. “Yo, Sam. We got a new case.”
The reason for the hover waved as she walked down the corridor. I waved back. Special Agent Sandra Sinclair. Sam and Sandra had a thing going. Made Conway and I laugh, often, how they thought no one knew. You’d have to be blind not to see it.
Sam rocked into the room and grabbed a chair. He set it close to my desk and sat down.
“‘Sup Kurt?”
“A serial killer,” I replied on a rush of air. “Take a look.” I spun the laptop to face him.
A few minutes later, he looked over the screen at me and nodded.
“Ellie know?”
“Yes. Her and Lee are on their way back later today.”
“You and me until then? What about Delta B and their messy morning?”
I planted my hands flat on the desk and pushed myself to my feet. “I’m about to go light a fire under their asses. Agent Manning is investigating the response time. The rest of the team are supposed to be investigating the shooter and tracking him down.”
“He got away?” Sam rocked in his chair and shook his head.
“Yes.”
“Why was there no armed response from within the building?”
“Conway asked the same question. It’s on the list.”
“So they let the shooter get away?”
“Yeah. And get this for team behavior. They sent Manning in here to try and explain what happened. All of them should have fronted up, but they tossed Manning to the wolves. She’s the newest member, right?”
“Yeah, she is. She’s been with B for three months.” Sam shook his head. “They always this useless?”
I puffed air out my mouth. “I really hope not, but then, I don’t want to think they’ve fallen over because I’m a crap SSA.”
Sam’s throaty laugh bounced around the room. “This isn’t about you. This is about how they operate as a team. They’re not cohesive.” Sam let his chair fall back to the ground and propelled himself to his feet. “This is on Claude.”
I smiled. “Thanks, but, I’m in charge at the moment, so, it’s on me.”
“We’ll see. Gimme a minute with Delta B. You do what you do and accept the case.”
I sat back down. Happy to work on something for our team and let Sam have a word with Delta B. I wasn’t enjoying the experience of being their SSA. With that thought in mind, I called Claude.
“Hey, It’s Kurt Henderson,” I said as soon as he answered.
“Kurt, what do you need?”
“Delta A got a new case. All hands on deck type of case. When can we expect you back in the office?”
“Three or four days.”
I restrained the sigh that tried to escape. Three or four days. Visions of being stuck behind a desk holding Delta B’s hand while Delta A worked a case swam into focus. That didn’t make me happy. Three or four days more of Delta B’s screw-ups didn’t thrill me. I flipped it.
A challenge.
Could I turn Delta B into cohesive unit in the time I had?
Yes. I could.
“All right. See you then.”
“Sorry Kurt, I know leaving your team isn’t easy.”
“Cheers.”
I put my phone on my desk and breathed. A challenge. I needed to find the best way to tackle the problem. Sam’s pep talk would probably do some good. What else? I couldn’t leave them unsupervised, that was obvious. A plan hatched. Team Delta B with Delta A. Re-training. Team building. Some example setting.
All good things for a team that wasn’t working. I fired an email to Conway and told her of my plan. We shared the supervisory role within Delta A. Our specialist team contained two supervisory agents, two senior agents and a shared support agent. The other Delta teams contained one SSA, five special agents with support provided by Sandra and another agent who worked with her. B and C had a high turnover of agents but Delta A had existed in its current form for almost five years. We were close. We were a unit. We worked hard, we played hard, and we won more often than not. All that made us unique in the criminal investigative division.
* * *
I swung through the employee entrance carrying a takeout tray of coffees and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Voices buzzed from the office down the hall. A pool of light fell from the open door onto the corridor carpet. I knew the voices. Sam, Lee and Conway were all in the office.
“Welcome back,” I said. The conversation stopped as I entered. “Coffee?” I set the tray on the desk and passed the coffees around.
“Thanks,” Conway said with a smile. “Good timing.”
I smiled. “Glad you got back okay.”
She took the lid off her cup and watched steam curl toward the ceiling. When she finished watching the spiraling steam, she looked over at me. The lack of spark in her blue eyes meant tiredness. I made a mental note.
“Thanks, Kurt. How are the B’s getting on?” Definitely tired but that didn’t stop the amusement rising in her eyes.
“Sent them home,” I replied, sipping my coffee. “Told them to be ready for tomorrow. They’re going to have to step up their game and fast. I want to shooter captured and they need to be working alongside us.”
“They know this?”
“Yep.”
She arched an eyebrow. “How many resigned?”
“Only one. I refused to accept her resignation.”
Conway laughed. Sam and Lee grinned.
“Was the kid, yeah?” Sam asked. “Agent Manning?”
I nodded.
Conway shook her head. “She’s good, or at least she has potential to be so. What did you do to her?”
“The other four idiots threw her to the wolves.”
“Ah,” Conway said. “Put her with me tomorrow, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” I replied. She sure wouldn’t be happy if she thought she was going to be teamed with me.
“Do you have an answer regarding building security? Conway asked.
I sighed. “I do. Budget cuts. Apparently the Department of Agriculture offices housed there are low risk.”
“No security at all?”
“Unmanned non-operational metal detectors. No security personnel.” It was difficult to keep the derision from my voice.
“Anything on the shooter at all?”
“BOLO out. Clear CCTV images. He’s the husband of a disgruntled employee.”
“At least they had CCTV,” Conway said suppressing a yawn. “B get that information?”
“No. I did. Took me thirty minutes as far as I know they have no clue.”
“They’re hopeless,” she said with a scowl. “They’re going to need a lot of team strengthening and skill reinforcement.”
“Want to do the briefing now?”
Conway nodded. “I want to visit the crime scenes and get started on this before tomorrow.”
Of course she did. Workaholic.
“You need sleep,” I said, quietly.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep.” She shot me a wonderful smile. “But first, brief us then let’s get a look at the crime scenes. If this is the work of a serial killer then time is ticking.”
I briefed the team. We finished the brief and our coffees at the same time.
“Ride with me, Conway,” I said. Holstering my weapon.
That’s how we usually worked, Lee and Sam, Conway and me. It was comfortable and that way. I liked to be close in case something untoward happened. She worried me in a way no other agent ever had. No other person ever had.
“Sure,” she replied tossing her cup into the trash. “We got scene guards and who is handling that?”
“Sean O’Hare’s company. I asked that Fairfax PD let Sean know when I told them we would take the case.”
We walked down the corridor, talking. Sam and Lee were ahead of us. They took the elevator to the parking garage. We’d take the stairs. Conway and elevators weren’t a great mix that was especially true when she was tired. I glanced at her as we neared the exit. Weary and trying to hide it. I felt a smile brewing. Sometimes I thought I enjoyed her company too much. She wound me up like a spring on a regular basis while simultaneously making everything okay. Messy. Complicated. Conway. And I knew I was smiling.
I held the stairwell door open for her.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
“You’re welcome.”
The door slowly closed behind us as we walked down the stairs, side by side. Her arm brushed mine on occasion making it hard for me to focus.
An hour later we were walking up an overgrown path to a derelict house. We were at the last crime scene. The freshest one. A guard stood at the front of the dilapidated porch.
“Delta A,” Conway said passing her identification wallet over.
“Crime scene investigators have finished, ma’am, you can go on in.” He handed the identification back.
“Thank you,” Conway replied.
Sam moved in front of her. I stifled a smile. None of us liked her going into buildings first. If she ever figured that out there would be hell to pay. Sam flicked his flashlight on and entered the house. We all followed suit. Sam, Conway, me, and then Lee in the back. Sam and Lee switched positions regularly when we entered unknown situations. Taking turns at being point and rear guard. Conway and I changed it up in the middle.
The house was falling down. Holes in the floorboards. Plaster and hunks of wall missing. Ceilings sagging.
“Watch your feet,” Sam said shining his flashlight beam on a missing section of floor with a single plank of wood bridging the two foot gap. “Carefully does it.”
“Where was the body found?” Conway asked me.
“Third bedroom.”
“Crime scene tape up ahead, must be it,” Sam said.
One by one we crossed the plank and moved into the hallway beyond, following Sam.
I watched with fascination as Conway stood in the doorway and become very still.
I’d seen that before, every crime scene. Almost as if she breathed in the events.
Her eyes took in the whole room. Those seconds before she moved always seemed like minutes. I waited, as usual trying to figure out what she could see, hear and smell. She took several steps into the room, allowing me to move up beside her.
Conway turned to me. “Incongruous. The house is falling apart and this room is not.”
And she was right. The room did not fit with the rest of the house.
“Staged?”
“Yeah,” Conway said. “Why is there no mention of the condition of the room in the report?”
“I don’t know,” I replied and made a note to check it out.
“We need to find out where she lived. I think this room was made to look like her room.”
“Now there’s a weird twist,” I replied.
“This is messy,” she said.
Streaks of red ran down the wall behind the bed. Cast off from the weapon used. Blood soaked into the bed where the woman bled out. Exsanguination.
“Any mention of the murder weapon?” Lee asked.
“No weapon found. Wounds suggested a knife. Autopsy will tell us more,” I replied.
“Knife,” Lee whispered. “We’re looking for a blade.”
Conway moved into the room and walked around the bed. The snap of latex gloves caught my attention.
“Conway?”
“The top drawer of the nightstand is not shut properly,” she said. “It’s not open but not completely closed like the other drawers.” Conway opened the drawer. “Looks like blood in here. Cast off and some trace. I think the Unsub touched stuff in this drawer.”
I joined her and looked into the drawer.
“I agree, the drawer was open when the woman was killed and pushed shut afterwards,” I said. “If the Unsub had opened it after the death, there’d be trace on the handle, but it’s on the top edge and inside on the contents.”
Conway nodded.
“Probably pushed it shut with the back of a hand,” she said. “There’s no blood smears on the outside of that drawer.” Conway leaned in for a better look. She pulled out her phone and photographed the inside of the drawer then pocketed her phone and inspected the contents.
“Kurt, we need the autopsy report A-sap,” Conway said and picked something up she’d found in the drawer. “Got some evidence bags?”
Sam handed her one. Conway dropped the object into the bag and sealed it. She handed it to me.
“A vibrator,” I said, looking at contents through the thick plastic. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking someone used it during the attack. The button at the end has traces of what looks like blood. There is a very smudged bloody hand print low on the shaft.”
“No mention of any sexual component to the attack,” I said.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. No one mentioned the condition of the room in comparison to the rest of the house either.”
Right, again. No autopsy reports had come through for any of the victims, yet. Possible that police missed a few things due to the nature of the crime.
A bloody mess makes it hard to see exactly what went on.
Conway went through the other nightstand drawers. I turned my attention to the bureau on the far wall. Lee moved to the end of the bed and searched through a large chest that sat there. Sam examined the contents of the desk under the window.
The dust free bureau smelled of fresh furniture polish. I breathed in the smell. Lemon Pledge. On the top were four photos in wooden frames. The victim and a man. They looked happy but then most people in displayed photographs do. People don’t frame a picture taken right after an argument. The drawers themselves were tidy. Everything in neat piles. No blood. It didn’t look as though anyone had been through them. What was missing? A jewelry box. There was no gap on the top of the bureau suggesting anything missing. Didn’t women usually have a jewelry box?
“Conway, do you have a jewelry box?” I asked, turning to face her.
“Yes.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
“Because there isn’t one here.”
Everyone looked at me and gave a collective nod.
“Where do woman usually keep jewelry boxes?” Lee asked.
Conway pointed to the bureau. “That’s a likely place. If this is a replica of someone’s bedroom and they had a jewelry box I’d expect it to be there.”
“Do we have confirmed identity of this victim?” Lee asked. “Because I don’t remember a name. Just a reference to Jane Doe four in the report?”
I shook my head.
Conway walked to the door and ripped off her gloves, balling them up and dropping them into her pocket. “We need an address and a name and to know why this room looks so different to the rest of this crappy house.”
I followed Conway out.
“What are you thinking?” I asked as we carefully walked back to the front door. Once outside she stopped and faced me.
“That someone went to a lot of effort here. If there is a missing jewelry box, could be the trophy.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers. “Abduction is one thing, but this is pre-planned like nothing I’ve seen before. This shows patience and attention to detail, if, this is a replica of her room and I think it is.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked. I thought it too, but I wanted to know what was happening in her head.
She smiled and shrugged. “It looks like it could be. We need to know for sure, because this is major stalking. A replica room means someone was in her house and went through her things and then went to the trouble of obtaining everything in a new room and then making it up so it looked identical. Why?”
I returned her smile. “You seem very sure it’s a replica room.” I thought it was possible. But Conway was sure. “No songs? No hallucinations?”
She faltered for a split second before replying and I knew she’d seen or heard something.
“Gut feeling,” she said.
I knew what that meant, either a song she’d heard while we were in the room or Christopher Chance rocked in and told her something. I don’t suppose it really mattered which but the hallucination thing worried me a whole lot more than the songs.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind us. I looked over my shoulder. Lee and Sam. Sam carrying the evidence bag.
“Next crime scene?” Lee asked.
“Yes. Working backwards,” I said.
Sam dropped the evidence bag in the trunk of his car. Conway and I climbed into our car. I noticed her hide a yawn behind her hand.
“You sure about this? We can take the next three tomorrow.” Futile question. I knew that. She would insist she was okay and that we should get on with it.
One look. She glanced sideways and shook her head. A smile formed.
“Of course,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
The nice thing about visiting crime scenes at night, traffic was easy.
* * *
I alighted from the vehicle first, leaving Conway alone with a personal call. I walked back to Sam’s car, parked behind us. The three of us stood in front of another derelict house, or at least that’s how it appeared. Over grown garden. Broken windows highlighted by moonlight. The scene guard watched us from the front step. Waiting. Would we approach or not. His hand rested on the butt of his sidearm.
A car door closed. Conway joined us.
“All right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Her smile said more than her single syllable response. I knew from her smile she’d been talking to Mitch. Just friends? Not for long if that smile was anything to go by. One hell of a good friend for phone calls to be okay after eleven at night.
“Let’s get in there,” I said, leading the way up the crumbling path to the scene guard. This time I handed over my identification. The scene guard allowed us entry. Lee slipped in front of me.
Did they really think I didn’t notice?
Another entrance way to a dark dingy house that had seen better days stretched out before us. The unmistakable sound of four people donning latex gloves and letting them snap against our wrists resounded.
“Where to?” Lee asked, shining his flashlight down the hallway. “Floors are intact.”
“Good,” I replied checking my phone for the particulars of the scene. “Second bedroom.”
Lee stopped at a crime scene taped doorway. He tugged one edge, the tape fell away. Stepping aside he said, “After you Chicky.”
Conway moved past me.
“Thanks,” she said stopping in the doorway. A few seconds ticked by before she stepped over the threshold.
I followed Lee into the room. Sam didn’t come. I stepped back out the door and shone my flashlight toward Sam.
“Sam, what’s up?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not sure, probably nothing. Jumpy. I’ll hang here for a bit.”
“Okay.”
Conway looked at me as I entered the room again. “What’s wrong?”
“Sam’s gut is twanging.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not take all night then.”
Another inconsistent room in a house that’d seen better days. I touched the surface of a dressing table with a built in mirror. No dust. One sniff told me it’d not long ago been polished. Not Lemon Pledge this time though.
“Conway, what’s this smell?” I beckoned her over and pointed at the dressing table. She was good with scents.
“It’s Pledge, original,” she replied with a smile and went back to the nightstand.
“That’s different,” I said. “The last scene was Lemon Pledge.”
“Personal preference,” Conway replied. “We need to find out who these women are and get into their homes.”
It bothered me that police hadn’t provided us with identities. It’s not that hard to run finger prints. This is Northern Virginia a lot of people have government jobs or jobs in areas that require them to have their finger prints recorded. Something else irritated me. They were missing women at some point. So why no missing person reports? That’s a pretty good way to identify bodies.
“Kurt, another vibrator.”
Lee provided Conway with an evidence bag.
“Same deal as before?” I asked.
“Yes. Drawer was shut this time though. When I opened it, I found cast off and then saw the vibrator. Smudged bloodied prints low on the shaft. Suppose there is nothing to indicate sexual activity here either?”
“Nope.” I’d hoped the last one was an anomaly but now it looked like part of the Unsub’s Modus Operandi or signature. “Conway, signature or Modus Operandi?”
“Too early to tell.”
“What does your gut say?”
“Signature.”
I nodded.
“Is there anything else? Lee, you see anything out of place?”
“Again, no jewelry box. Something else Kurt. It didn’t occur to me at the last one, but, now I’m seeing it again. So it’s something.” Lee swept an arm around the room. “No electronics. Not a thing. No clock, radio, tablet, i-anything, phones, television, eReader, laptop.”
He had a point. How many people had an actual electronics free bedroom? Not that many.
“Back up, eReader?” Conway said. “No tree books either.”
We looked at each other.
“Could be he chose two women who didn’t read,” Lee said with a small laugh. “Not even a magazine in here.”
Sam called out. “Moving right along. This is not a good place.”
Conway nudged Lee. “Go, he’s worried. Sam is never worried.”
I crossed the room to Conway, to escort her out. She clutched the evidence bag in one hand while photographing the drawer and room with her phone. I took the bag. She smiled and carried on taking photos on our way out of the room.
“Let’s go,” I said to Sam.
“This place is dark, bro. Real dark. Some bad shit has happened here. More than this recent death,” Sam said, taking point and moving out.
Conway stepped up beside him. I couldn’t hear the conversation but I did notice his shoulders relax as he breathed more deeply once they were outside.
“What was that?” I asked Lee. It felt like something.
“Sam’s jumpy. Ellie calmed him down,” he shrugged. “She caught him. It’s all good.”
I shook my head. “Sam is never jumpy. That’s big. Tell me?”
Lee’s hand closed around my arm, stopping my forward movement. “Before you joined Delta A, we were in a place not too different from this place actually. We went back to the scene to check something, the four of us were right there, next minute, Sam’s down, stabbed, and the Unsub is running.”
“Mac was with you then?” No one talked much about life before I arrived in Delta and I didn’t really want to ask. I’d seen the looks on their faces when something from that period in time cropped up. It was dark. Some of it I knew. I knew about injuries sustained by the team during various cases but unless there were notes on file, I was there, or they told me, I didn’t know the details regarding the lead up to particular injuries. Copies of their medical files are kept by me. Except in Conway’s case. I have the original in a safe in my office and a copy stored with everyone else’s. Her file contains injuries sustained during covert operations, everything regarding that part of her life remained sealed.
Lee nodded. “Sam’s stabbing happened a few days before Mac’s death.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, tipping my head toward Sam and Conway. She seemed okay but it didn’t hurt to get a second opinion.
“Yeah. Sam’s demons seem to be active, but Ellie is okay.”
We carried on to the cars and separated.
I made a note. Keep an eye on Sam. Crappy houses seem to be the theme with this case and I didn’t want someone like him losing it, ever. I climbed into the driver’s seat, swallowing a smile. Conway losing it is bad enough, she can hit pretty hard, but Sam could knock me out cold for days.
* * *
“Next?” Conway said while checking her phone.
“You sure?” I asked pulling away from the curb and glancing in the rearview mirror. Sam drove the car that pulled out behind us.
“Of course. Let’s get it done. Tomorrow we can start the investigation with scene visits already taken care of and an idea of where we’re going and maybe what we’re looking for.”
She had a point. Several points. They were all good.
We spent the rest of the drive spent in a comfortable silence. Half an hour later I pulled up outside another house.
“Do we have any idea who owns any of these properties?” Conway asked opening her door.
“Nothing in the reports. Something else for us to look in to.”
Conway made a note on her phone. “I’ll get Manning to lend a hand with that,” she said, shoving her phone in her jacket pocket.
Lee and Sam joined us by our car.
A scene guard walked toward the sidewalk. He spoke from about six feet away. “Can I help you?”
Conway and I met him. She handed over her identification.
He nodded and pointed his flashlight toward the front door of the property. “Watch your step, the house is rotting.”
Another run-down house.
Lee took point. We all pulled gloves on before entering.
The scene guard wasn’t kidding. Floor boards were rotting and crumbling. Looked like feet had gone through in places. Someone had rigged a rope handrail along both sides of the hallway. Good thinking. At least that should stop any of us falling underneath the house. No way would they have brought a body out this way. Would’ve been hard for the Unsub to bring someone in this way too. I made a mental note to have a look for another way in and out of the house.
“How far?” Lee asked.
“Third bedroom,” I replied.
At the door of the bedroom, Lee and I stepped aside and let Conway do her thing. She paused in the door.
“Can you smell that?” she asked turning her head in my direction.
I shook my head. “What?”
“Incense. Someone burned incense in this room. Patchouli.” She entered the room. I followed.
Again the incongruity of the room set it apart from the rest of the house.
The pine furniture gave an almost airy feel to the room, not like the dark stained wood in the crime scene.
The blood that ran down the full length mirror on the wall by the bed, dried in streaks, nice touch.
So far the houses would’ve been right at home on a Hollywood horror movie set or as haunted houses for Halloween. From the end of the bed I looked at the wall in front of me. The blood splatter missed a spot. A person sized area.
“Can you see that?” I said to Conway and pointed at the wall.
“Yeah. Someone was there. Whoever it was would’ve got a fair bit of blood on them.” Conway took photos.
I carried on looking around the room. Again no jewelry box and no electronics and no books.
“The nightstand is different,” Conway said. I joined her by the side of the bed. The nightstand in this room was a small glass topped table with a lidded wicker box underneath. “Chances are the table protected the box from cast off.” She pointed to blood smears across the glass.
There was just enough room under the table to open the lid of the box, it flipped up.
Conway froze as she looked at the contents.
“Conway?” No response. “Ellie?”
She came to life, shook her head, and dragged the box out from under the table. “She had a lot of toys,” Conway murmured. “There is blood in here.” She glanced across the room. “How many evidence bags do you have Lee?”
Lee checked inside his bag. “Four left. How many do you need?”
“Four. We got any more in the cars?”
“Yeah, Chicky Babe, I re-stocked our car this morning,” Sam replied.
I smiled. These were some of the things Delta B needed to learn and learn well.
Lee gave Conway the evidence bags, one at a time, and waited for her to write on them and add the evidence then took from her. He dropped them into his bag.
“She might have been alive longer than the others,” Conway said. “More toys containing traces of blood. Do you know anything about her wounds?”
I flicked through the reports on my phone, reading fast.
“She’s Jane Doe number 2. Fifteen cuts to her torso none of them deep enough to be fatal, all prior to her throat being cut. Preliminary report suggests her throat was cut right to left.” I looked at the wall behind the bed then at Conway. The Unsub was behind the victim, he probably held her head with one hand, and cut her throat with the other.
“Tortured and killed by a left-handed Unsub,” she said. “Any DNA evidence found at any of the scenes? Were any of the victims bound or restrained in anyway?”
“Jane Doe number four had a sticky residue around her wrists and ankles and bruising to those areas. Consistent with being restrained. None of the others that I can tell from this report.” I scrolled further. Nothing. I checked the time. Closing on midnight. Screw it. I made a call to the medical examiner’s office. They worked shifts. Someone would be there.
“It’s SSA Kurt Henderson, investigating case number seven-seven-four-nine-zero.”
“You’re speaking with Caroline Kristie, how can I help?”
“Can you pull up your preliminary reports on all the victims of case seven-seven-four-nine-zero please?”
“One moment agent, retrieving the information now.”
“I’m especially interested in Jane Doe number two. Was she restrained?”
I heard keys tapping.
“We believe so, we found no residue on her skin, so probably not tape. Something soft, but she struggled against it. There is chaffing on her wrists and ankles.”
“Left-handed Unsub?”
“Yes, or at least he used the knife in his left-hand.”
“Where do you think he was when her throat was cut?”
Keys tapped.
“The medical examiner made a note here that says the Unsub was behind the victim. She pulled latent prints from the forehead of the woman.”
“Do we have a toxicology report for the women?”
“Yes. Traces of Flunitrazepam were found but only in the second woman’s blood.”
“Got identities yet?”
I got the feeling the Unsub was experimenting, perfecting his techniques, deciding on his ultimate signature.
“Yes, agent,” Caroline said.
I patted my pockets.
No notebook? I waved at Lee and motioned for a pen and notebook.
He handed me both. I placed the notebook on the dressing table and wrote the women’s names and ages down as Caroline said them.
“Victim one is Sienna Charleston aged twenty-five. Victim two is Dahlia Silver aged thirty-two. Victim three is Veronica Talbot aged thirty. Victim four is Jeanette Lewis ages twenty-seven.”
“Families?”
“We’ve only just finished the identification process, families have not been told yet.”
“Do you mind if we handle that tomorrow?”
I knew they wouldn’t. No one liked telling relatives bad news.
“Not at all. I’ll have the full reports on your desk by midday. We’re half way through the autopsies now.”
“That’s good work.”
Astounding really.
“Slow week for murders and unexplained deaths, no backlog,” Caroline replied.
“I have a feeling there might be some more coming your way, unless we can get a handle on this Unsub. Was there DNA left at any of the scenes?”
“Not from ejaculate but we have some saliva that we’re running from two of the women’s bodies. Might get lucky. We’ve also got some finger prints. Not holding much hope there, they were quite degraded and smudged. The Unsub might be in the system. If so, we’ll be able to tell you as soon as we get all the results back.”
“Thanks Caroline. I’ll be in touch.”
I hung up. Conway waited, expectantly.
“And?” she said.
“What were you thinking before?”
“Sexual sadist,” she said.
“You might be on the right track.”
“The women from this scene, Dahlia Silver aged thirty-two had Flunitrazepam in her blood stream and was restrained. The ME thinks the bindings were soft.”
“Rohypnol,” Conway whispered. “The Unsub was prepared to sedate.”
Conway delved back into the box she’d pulled out from under the nightstand.
She held up four long pieces of black fabric.
“Restraints like these? She made it easier for him. Looks like she already liked a little bit of light bondage. These are silk scarves.” Conway called out to Sam. “We’re going to need more evidence bags.” She turned back to me. “Whoever was in charge of these scenes …” She shook her head. “… A five-year-old could do a better job of evidence gathering.” A smile lit her tired eyes. “Wasn’t Delta B was it?”
“Ah no. It’d be way worse if they’d been in control,” I replied, matching her smile.
“We ready to move?” Lee asked.
“Yeah, one more crime scene to go.”
I glanced at Conway before she left the room. She looked how I felt. Tired. Grim. Trying to give the victims her full attention but I knew she preferred crime scenes with bodies as opposed to empty scenes. I’d seen her work crime scenes countless times and always felt as if the bodies spoke to her, so this, was harder than usual.
* * *
Ellie sprang out of the car as soon as I parked. Keen. I knew she wasn’t in a hurry to see another crime scene so much as get it over with and go home. Me too.
“Heads up,” I said and threw her a pair of latex gloves, and then pulled a pair on myself.
The scene guard swaggered toward us, shining his flashlight at our faces. I shielded my eyes, held my badge out and introduced myself. He dropped the beam to the ground, raised one eye-brow and told us to go on in. From outside the house seemed in better repair than all the others. Made a nice change. A noise in the distance gave me pause. A door closing, maybe? I turned and looked down the street. Most of the houses sat in darkness. Lights burned brightly on a few porches. I listened. About five houses away a dog barked. Sounded like someone let the dog out. I pulled my attention back to the scene in front of me.
Inside wallpaper hung in curled browning strips from walls punctuated by fist sized holes. The floor looked solid. I bounced on the balls of my feet a few times. No untoward creaking and I didn’t fall through. Good signs. We’d probably get in and out without anyone breaking a leg.
Sam led the way to the back of the empty house and bedroom four. He entered the room first followed by Conway.
I watched her disappear through the doorway; it seemed a matter of seconds before she was back followed by Sam.
“All right?”
She took a breath, looked me in the eye and said, “Come with me.”
I saw her weapon in her hand.
Sam leaned on the wall opposite the door. I noted his minimalist nod at Lee. Whatever it was he’d seen it too.
I followed Conway in.
On the floor on the far side of the bed lay a crumpled naked person covered in blood. As I approached I realized it was a woman. My gloved fingers touched her neck and found a pulse. It wasn’t great, but she had one.
“Lee, I need my bag!” I hollered, rolling the woman onto her back. She was covered in blood, the origin of which was difficult to determine. “Sam, call paramedics and get that scene guard in here!”
Both men yelled back affirmative responses and followed with pounding feet. Conway checked the room then vanished leaving me alone.
Outside the door I heard Conway call out to Sam and Lee, “Searching the premises. Check the perimeter.”
Reaching up to the bed and I pulled a blanket down to cover the woman. Noting there was zero evidence of restraint marks on her wrists or ankles as I covered her cold battered bloodied body.
I rubbed the woman’s shoulder.
“I’m an FBI agent, you’re safe. Can you open your eyes?”
Her eyes flickered.
“I’m a doctor. I’m just going to check your wounds.”
Lifting the blanket I wiped blood out of my way with my hand and inspected her wounds. Six stab wounds to her torso. None deep enough to be life threatening, blood loss wasn’t excessive but it was impressive. A little blood goes a long way.
My initial assessment centered on the possibility of her being drugged, which would account for her lack of response. We’d got here in time.
A thump followed by scuffling noises and a wooden bang. I looked toward the doorway.
“Conway!” I yelled. “Sam! Lee!”
Skirmish noises grew in volume. Skin on skin.
Every part of me wanted to go find Conway. My eyes rested on the unconscious woman.
Duty reared its head. I took a breath and reminded myself Conway was tough.
A groan followed another thump. Heavy footfalls echoed into the night.
“Agent down!” Conway hollered. “Doc …” Her voice faded.
Nothing made my blood freeze faster than Conway calling my name like that.
“Conway!” I scrambled to my feet, lifted my gun from my hip. Fuck duty. I hurried into the hallway trying to pinpoint the direction of her voice.
Lee ran toward me from the other end of the hall.
“Chicky? She all right?” He threw me my bag. I grabbed it with my left hand.
Ripping the zip open, I thrust a bunch of wound dressings at Lee and slung the bag back over my shoulder.
“Patch the woman up and stay with her,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll find Conway.”
The first room I came to was a bathroom. I shone my flashlight up and down the walls and in all the crevices.
Nothing.
There was small room across the hall.
Again nothing.
Breathing hard I opened another door.
Toilet.
Nothing.
At the end of the hall was a partially closed door.
I took a breath, held it, and flung the door open as I exhaled. The beam from my flashlight danced across the floor and walls. Looked like a family room or dining room with an open plan kitchen. No sign of anyone.
“Conway?”
“Over here,” she said.
Her voice came from the other side of the kitchen counter. Her body obscured from view.
“All right?” I asked hurrying around the counter. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against a cabinet door. I dropped my bag next to her.
“Yeah, I just love this place so much I thought I’d hang out here on the filthy floor,” she said, strain evident in her voice.
I shone my flashlight in her face. She winced and looked away. I smiled. She’s never liked bright lights in her face.
“And the real reason you’re sitting on the floor?” I moved the beam slowly down her body. “Never mind, I see it.”
“Thought you might,” she said. Her breathing was shallow and voice shaky. “I never got a clear look at him.”
“On the plus side, you know the Unsub is male. Keep very still,” I said, inspecting the hilt and blade of the knife sticking out of Conway’s side. “It’s low and about an inch and half of blade is still visible, might have missed everything vital.”
“Good news,” Conway said, through clenched teeth. “You going to be long?”
“I’m not removing the knife until I have you in hospital.”
“Okay.”
I took scissors from my bag. She grimaced but said nothing as I cut her shirt away from the edge of the blade so I could see what was going on.
“Sorry. We’ll move you with your new adornment in place. I’ll pack around it, don’t want the knife moving.”
“Yeah, thanks, I imagine that would hurt.”
I’d imagine so.
From my bag I took out some thick packs of gauze and some surgical tape.
“Breath. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
She closed her eyes. I packed the gauze around the exposed knife blade. A minute or so later I was done. Lee cast a large shadow across the kitchen in the moonlight.
“Hey, the woman okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, still out of it, might be a blessing,” Lee replied. “Chicky?”
“I’m okay,” Conway replied with a half a smile. “Might just sit here for a bit though.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Lee said. “You go to Sam, Kurt. He’s got the scene guard and is waiting with the woman. Paramedics are on the way.”
“She’s not to move or try to move,” I said to Lee. “Got that Conway? Stay put.”
“Uh huh.”
“I mean it,” I said, employing my stern voice. It usually made her laugh. Not tonight. “Where’s your phone?”
“Left pocket,” she replied.
I slipped my hand into her jacket pocket and gave her the phone.
“Call Mitch. Have him meet you at the Emergency Department.”
I left the room.
Sam and the scene guard were waiting with the unconscious woman. I paused as approached them and called Sean O’Hare, directly.
He answered on the fourth ring and did not sound like I’d woken him.
“What’s up Kurt?”
“I’m at a crime scene, one guarded by your company. Someone either got past your guy or your guy is complicit in a violent crime.”
Two beats of dead silence.
“Give me the address. I’m on my way.”
I did, then hung up and carried on into the room.
Sam’s face filled with unasked questions, he rolled them all into one. “Chicky Babe?”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, well aware that earlier in the evening Sam had issues with one of the scenes and a memory from the past. I turned my attention to the scene guard. He stood at parade rest, giving the appearance of calmness. But he was anything but calm. “Name?”
“Cory White,” he replied.
“Your boss is on his way. Do you want to wait or talk to us now?”
“Talk.”
“What happened in here?”
He shook his head then refocused. Looking right at me. “I have no idea. I walked through the scene twice tonight. Two hours apart. I do a circuit of the grounds at random intervals.”
“Last time you walked through?”
He took his notebook from his pocket and read from it. “An hour and a half ago.”
Our Unsub is getting bolder. Maybe he gets off knowing he could be caught at any moment. Could he have watched us enter crime scenes? Was this for us?
“And the grounds?”
“Half an hour, I didn’t see anything. No lights or anything that suggested someone was in here.”
I walked over to the window and looked at the curtains. Running my fingers along the bottom edge until I found a tag. I read it. Blackout curtains.
Clever. Well-planned.
“Cory, anyone been hanging around here?”
“No. Anyone coming by more than once would be obvious. There is no through traffic, this street goes nowhere.”
“Anyway to access the property from the back?”
“This side of the street backs onto a wooded area beyond that is a park. It’s possible.”
Did the Unsub carry a woman through a park and woods without making a noise? No through traffic. No traffic noise to mask activity.
I looked at the woman under the blanket.
“Sam, where are her clothes?”
I doubted he carried a naked woman. If he’d been stopped that would’ve been harder to explain than maybe saying his girlfriend was drunk.
“Good question.”
Sam searched the room. In a laundry hamper he found clothes. “These could be them. I’ll bag them.”
“Also, make a note. The other scenes, laundry hampers. The bodies were all naked according to the report I have.”
Sam nodded.
A siren pierced the still night air. A dog barked.
“That’ll be for us,” Sam said hurriedly bagging the clothes and heading for the door. “I’ll bring ‘em in.”
“Sir?” Cory said attracting my attention.
“Yes.”
“Are your agent and the lady going to be okay?”
“Yes. The lady probably will have zero memory of what happened. Agent Conway will be fine.”
She’ll remember every detail like she always does. I made a mental note to update my records regarding the teams need for therapist to be attached to the unit.
No way would Sam or Conway talk to an outsider, but if I could bring someone in and make them part of Delta?
Noises in the hallway interrupted my thought train. Probably a good thing. I wasn’t the sole SSA.
I’d have to convince Conway to get a therapist attached to us or enlist our SAC’s help in convincing Conway that the therapist idea is a good one. She was infamously resistant to any form of counseling or psycho-babble bullshit as she liked to call it.
* * *
It was after four before I opened my front door and dropped my keys in the dish on the hall table. Mail sat unopened in a letter rack. I flicked through four envelopes. Bills. Nothing that couldn’t wait a few days. I took my jacket off, slinging it over my arm while I loosened my tie and undid the top button on my shirt, and rolled my shoulders to release some tension.
On the way to my room I stopped in and checked on Olivia. The nightlight glowed on the wall. She slept, serenely. I tucked the covers around her little shoulders, stooped down and kissed her cheek. She murmured as she rolled over taking the blankets with her.
Eyes watched me. I felt them. I looked at the door way. Rachel leaned on the door frame, sleepy, smiling.
I joined her. “Did I wake you?” I whispered and kissed her softly.
“No, I wasn’t really asleep.”
Together we watched Olivia sleep for a few minutes. She filled me with peace. Arm in arm we went to our room. I hung up my jacket and tie.
“Quick shower then I’ll answer your questions,” I said to Rachel, correctly reading her expression.
“I’ll try to stay awake,” she replied with a smile.
The shower felt good on my aching muscles.
I did try to leave the day at the door and not let it encroach on family time, not always successfully though.
Some days stuck harder and longer than others. The new case was sticky. The hot water helped me ditch the stress of the day but nothing removed the knife I saw stuck in Conway or the sound of her voice when she called my name. Nightmare material.
Rachel lay in our bed watching me as I moved around the room.
“Still awake,” I said climbing under the covers.
“Was it very bad?” she asked, as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Her hand lay open on my stomach. Warmth from her fingers spread through me.
“Not the best day.”
“How much longer before Claude takes over Delta B again?”
“Too long.”
“Tired?”
“Yes. I’m tired. It was a long day.” A yawn escaped. Yes, I was tired.
“Did you operate on Ellie?”
“You know I did.” I wondered for a minute where the conversation was leading.
“Was it very bad?”
“Being stabbed is seldom good. This could’ve been worse.” I brushed hair from her eyes. “It’s late. You need to sleep.”
“So do you,” she murmured. “Will she be all right?”
“Yes.”
Images of Conway sleeping in her hospital bed, and Mitch snoozing in a chair next to her filled my head, she looked peaceful. I’d managed to get away with only local anesthetic, which was great. She’d have to rest up for a few days and take antibiotics for ten days but apart from that she was fine. Rachel’s voice interrupted my thoughts. Probably a good thing.
“The news is saying there is a serial killer.”
“I heard that too.”
“Kurt?”
I held her tighter. “It’s possible.”
She tipped her head back and looked at me. “They’re right aren’t they?”
“It looks like it.” I held her closer. “Sleep.”
My eyes refused to stay open any longer.
***
Something soft hit me in the head twice. I opened an eye. It whacked me again. Behind the brown fur I saw Olivia.
“Daddy!”
“Olivia. Don’t hit daddy with Mr. Bear,” I mumbled rubbing my face and sitting up. “Where’s Mommy?”
“Making breakfast,” Olivia replied scrambling up onto the bed and then wrapping her arms around my neck.
I smiled and hugged her, eventually she wriggled away, resting her head on the pillow next to mine. Her hand rubbed the side of my face.
“Prickly,” she said screwing her nose up.
“Daddy needs a shave,” I replied. Among other things. Other things would have to wait. “Go find Mommy and get your breakfast.”
Olivia pouted. “I want to stay with you.”
“Daddy needs to get ready for work now. I’ll be out soon.” Her pout increased. “I need you to do something for me. It’s important.” The pout lessened.
“Do what?” Olivia asked unable to continue the pouting.
“Ask Mommy if I can have smiley face pancakes?”
A smile beamed from her little face. She bounced off the bed and disappeared with Mr. Bear in tow leaving me smiling. If only Delta B were so easy. A sigh dropped into the bedclothes and vanished. I hit the shower. Fifteen minutes later I joined Rachel and Olivia at the breakfast table.
A stack of smiley face pancakes sat on a plate in the middle of the table. The eyes and smile made from blueberries. Like Conway always said, ‘we can’t guarantee when we’ll be back’, so when I was here, we did breakfast.
My phone already rang four times while I showered, I’d heard it above the running water. There would be voice mail waiting for after breakfast. It rang again while we were eating. Rachel waited to see if I’d answer it or not. I didn’t.
Breakfast continued. Olivia chattered. Rachel and I did our best to keep up with her conversation jumps. It’s not always easy following the conversation leaps made by a preschooler.
A knock at the door interrupted a slide into the latest song she’d learned at daycare.
“I’ll get it,” I said, pushing my chair back as I stood. My hand brushed Rachel’s shoulder as I left the room. She couldn’t hide her unhappiness at the intrusion to family time.
From the hallway I could see the silhouette of the door knocker through the frosted glass panel in the front door. Rachel would be less impressed when she knew it was Conway at the door.
Work.
Always work. I could hear Rachel in my head admonishing me for working such long hours. To her credit she rarely complained about the amount of time I spent with Conway. I knew she didn’t like it but she accepted it as part of the job.
I swung the door open.
“Sorry, something’s come up and you’re not answering your voice mail,” Conway said with a smile. “It’s important.”
“You feeling okay? Who discharged you?”
She grinned at me. “I’m fine, Kurt. I discharged myself about an hour ago.”
I sighed. Not surprised though, I didn’t expect her to hang around the hospital with the sick and injured. She’s always been better at denying injury and illness than accepting it and letting time and rest heal her body.
“What’s so important that landed you on my doorstep?”
“You think this case can chug along without us?”
Not really. Not with Delta B being so damn special.
“Do I have a choice?”
She shook her head then nodded slightly.
“Kinda. A call came in from Oregon. They’re asking for our help.”
“This case is messy. I need hands on deck. Who’ll run this?”
“I know, this is messy. Caine is stepping in. I’ve arranged for Kris and Jerry to stand in. They’ve worked with us before. They’re quick learners. You know them.”
“From SWAT?”
“Uh huh.”
Must be serious if she’s arranged replacements. Replacements? Plural?
“Caine is running a case? We’re going to leave Lee and Sam with two SWAT members and Delta B? While we go to Oregon?”
“Yeah,” she said with a killer smile. “Intrigued?”
“I am. When do we leave?”
“Two hours. Pack. Tell Rachel hi and I’m sorry. It’s work.” She shrugged.
“You can’t take Lee or Sam?” I had to ask. Going away with Conway would go down like a punctured lung in our house.
“Yeah sure. I can take either of them. If you want to stick with this case here.” Her smile shone from her eyes.
Accommodating.
We both knew I’d go.
“I’m not happy about you flying to the West Coast without medical supervision.”
Her eyebrows arched. “They have doctors over there I believe.”
“Smartass.”
“I’ll take Lee. I’ll be fine.”
Lee was an ex-army medic. She probably would be fine.
“I’ll pack and meet you at the office.” I paused. “What’s the case?”
She grinned. “Staties think they have a serial killer.”
“An epidemic of serial killings,” I murmured. Her grin became a smile and stayed, something was up. “What?”
“I think it’s related to our case.”
Fascinating.
* * *
“Will you take it slow once we touch down, please?” I asked as Conway gingerly moved in the plane seat. She looked sore. “Do you need pain relief?”
“Nope. I’m good. Just …” She paused and tried moving again. “… Uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing full well she wasn’t and she did need some pain relief. As much as I wanted to, sometimes, I couldn’t force medication on her.
Conway was stubborn, tough, beautiful, funny, intelligent, and contrary as all hell. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. She drove me crazy. End of story.
The long flight ended with a bumpy landing that shook me from my sleep.
“Jeez,” Conway exclaimed, blowing out a long breath, as the plane lurched down the runway toward the terminal buildings.
“Conway?”
“Yep,” she said, her fingers gripped the armrests.
“Pain?”
“Yep.”
Admittance. That was bad.
“Scale of one to ten, one being the least and ten being unbearable?”
“Three,” she muttered through clenched teeth, and took a slow shallow breathe. “Can we just get off this fucking plane?”
Three?
“That scowl on your face doesn’t match a three.”
She groaned. “I’m good.”
Three?
“More like a seven.”
She glared at me.
The plane continued taxiing to the terminal. The seatbelt sign flashed. A voice filled the cabin from the front. “You may now turn on your electronic devices. Please stay seated until the aircraft comes to a complete stop and the seat sign is off.”
A minute or two later the plane stopped, and seatbelt light flashed off. Movement in front of us told me the door was opening.
“Stay put, we’ll get off last,” I said.
I didn’t want her jostled by harried disembarking passengers. I used the time to call Sam.
“How’s it going?” I said when he answered.
“It’s interesting. Delta B need a lot of hand-holding,” Sam replied. “I heard from the Staties that called Conway regarding their case.”
“And?”
“They got a fresh body about an hour ago.”
“Our case?”
“Nothing new since last night.”
“Look for overlap Sam. I wanna know if our Unsub could be bouncing across the country.” I looked at Conway. Pale. Not good. The conversation with Sam continued. “I don’t see how it’s possible. Our guy is stalking the hell out of his victims, we think. Can you confirm that?”
“I’ve been to three houses and checked out the victims actual bedrooms. They are identical to the rooms they were found in, except, no …” He coughed. “… No toys in the bedside cabinets.”
Intriguing.
“You’re sure? Family haven’t removed anything to protect the victims’ reputations?”
“If they have no one is saying. It honestly doesn’t look like anything has been removed.”
“Any other differences?”
“The real rooms have electronics in the form of clocks, eReaders, and stereo … no jewelry boxes. Families say there were jewelry boxes.”
“Trophy?”
“Looks that way.”
“Let me know if you find anything else. Any chance of interviewing the live victim?”
“We’re heading back to the hospital in about an hour.”
“And the fourth house?”
“Going there before the hospital.”
“Nothing else has come up?”
“Nope.”
“Stay in touch, Sam. I’ll let you know if the scenes here are a match.”
I hung up. Conway looked out the window. Her reflection searched for something.
“What is it?”
“The Unsub’s are related,” she said. “Brothers.”
“Brother’s?”
“Yeah.”
I caught movement and noted a flight attendant walking towards us, through the empty plane.
“Time for us to leave,” I said, standing, and taking both our carry-on bags from the overhead compartment. I slung them over one shoulder and waited for Conway to join me. I followed her through the cabin and out. We walked side-by-side through the corridor to the main airport. Two police officers waited at the end of the corridor.
“They’re for us?” Conway asked.
“I think so. Let’s find out.”
We approached the uniformed officers.
“I’m SSA Henderson and this is SSA Conway.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the first officer said. “I’m Jed Cruickshank and this is Louise Sims.”
We all shook hands.
Louise spoke, “Do you have luggage?”
“No,” Conway replied. “Go bags. Hopefully we won’t be here too long.” She smiled.
“Follow us, we’re parked out front,” Jed said, leading the way.
I glanced at Conway before following the officers. Pale. Not good. I fell into step beside her.
“You feel all right?”
“I’m fine,” she replied.
“One day Conway you won’t make this so damn hard.”
A smile shone. “I’m fine, Doc. Let’s just get on with this so we can go home.”
* * *
Police had three crime scenes. Each one reminisce of the ones back in Virginia. Timing. It was all about the timing. None of the Virginia murders overlapped the Oregon ones but there wasn’t enough time for one Unsub to kill in Oregon and Virginia. Geographically too distant.
We stood in the latest crime scene. A dilapidated ramshackle house with one renovated room.
The victim was still present. She was a young woman. Pretty even in death. Conway skirted the body and carefully examined the room.
“Conway, the bedrooms aren’t just models, they’re renovations. That takes time,” I said, turning slowly on the spot.
“Builders,” she said, looking up. “You ever seen any of those house renovation programs on television?”
I shook my head. When do we ever have time to watch TV?
“Nope, you?”
“No, but my sister-in-law is hooked on them and tells me all about them. She especially loves the programs where someone gets a new bedroom as a surprise, or new living room. That kinda thing.”
“How quickly do you think something like this could be done? Taking into account the state of the rest of the house?”
“A day maybe.”
Conway turned and left the room. I followed her out of the house. She walked past the two officers and leaned against the car in the sun.
“What?” There was something. I’d seen that look on her face before.
“Not sure. I need to talk to Sandra.” Conway made a call on her cell phone. I waited. Not listening just waiting. Whatever Conway saw or felt she’d tell me when she was finished. The wait wasn’t long. Conway pocketed her phone and tapped me on the arm.
“I think they streamed live video of the deaths,” she said. “To each other.”
“Is there any way in God’s little green earth we can confirm that?”
“Sandra is going to try. We have time of death in all cases and a location. She’s searching cell provider logs for anything that could match.”
“How close do you think she’ll get?”
Conway shrugged. “No idea, she’s looking for continuous signal and high band width activity near the crime scenes.”
“That could be gamers or people downloading movies …”
“Or someone streaming a murder.”
“What made you think of live streaming?” I asked.
“I could see a phone being held,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone and a small shrug.
Her eyes met mine with a single realization. “There are two Unsubs at each scene,” we said in unison.
Conway smiled. “Snap.”
“Can Sandra do the same here?”
“She’s looking for a signal that she can follow in both states.”
I smiled. As much of a needle in a haystack this idea was, it felt like we had an edge, something we could use. Maybe.
“Sandra will let Sam know,” Conway said. “Let’s go find out if they’ve done a door-to-door. Someone saw something, the bedroom renovations involved noise and supplies and furniture …”
“And coffee,” I replied. “We need coffee.”
“You sound like me,” Conway said and waved to Louise.
Louise joined us near the over grown front garden of the house. My mind considered the abandoned houses. That made sense, if you didn’t want to be disturbed. But renovating inside an abandoned house, Conway was right, that would draw attention.
I excused myself and stepped away a few feet to call Lee.
“Hey, abandoned houses,” I said, expecting him to jump straight into my thought pattern.
“We’ve got the details of the recorded owners. All the Virginian homes are recorded as having deceased owners,” Lee replied. Papers shuffled. “Took a bit of digging to locate that information.”
“Who’s paying the property taxes?”
“These are houses that have fallen through the cracks in the system. No one is paying and there is no record of taxes owed, hence owner information was not easily obtained.”
“How long have they been empty?”
“The longest … forty years.”
“And the million dollar question … how would someone know the houses were abandoned or the owners were deceased and there was no next of kin?” Or chance of disturbance.
“I’m working on it, Kurt,” Lee said. Keys tapped. His voice faded then came back. “There are websites dedicated to abandoned properties and whether or not they’re haunted.”
“Somewhere to start.”
“I’ll get back to you. How’s Ellie?”
“Lying to me as usual,” I replied, watching her from where I stood. “Insists she’s fine, she’s really not.”
Lee laughed. “Nothing’s changed then. Somehow that’s comforting.”
Comforting? I supposed so. Not frustrating?
“I’ll be in touch,” I said with a light laugh. “Miss Contrary is waiting.”
Conway tapped her left foot on the path. Impatient.
Something’s never change.
* * *
Conway spoke to Louise, “I’m going back in. I need to see the body again.”
Louise nodded. “You want company?”
Her head shook. “I’m good,” Conway said walking back into the house.
Company or not, I followed. The way she worked fascinated me. From the outside it appeared as though things popped straight into her head. I knew better. Her brain worked on many levels at once. She had the ability to read people and decipher clues that the rest of us never even saw. From the doorway I watched her crouch by the body. She whispered. Her words never made it to me. They weren’t meant for me. She was talking to the woman.
She looked up, not at me, but past me. I glanced over my shoulder. No one there. Conway smiled. Again not at me, but past me. A small frown flickered then faded from her face. She remained still, focused on whatever she could see.
Once upon a time the intensity of her expression and the earnest gaze at nothing would’ve worried me a lot more than it did now.
Minutes passed.
Conway remained frozen.
A rush of cold air hit me and kept going sending a shiver up my spine. Conway took a deep breath and stood up.
“Okay?” I asked.
“The link is one of those renovation television shows,” Conway said with care. Her shoulders relaxed. “All the victims applied to be part of a show being made by a small television company. A bedroom makeover show.”
“Do I want to ask how you figured that out?”
She smiled, her gaze again drifted to over my shoulder. The smile wasn’t for me. I looked. No one.
“Conway? Ellie?” I waved. “Hi. Who was there?”
She blinked a few times then focused on me.
“Chance,” she replied with a grin.
Christopher Chance. He’d appeared for the first time a few years ago when Conway had a near-death experience in Lexington. Despite the many times she’d said she got information from Chance or even her dead husband, Mac, it still freaked me out a little bit. More because the information was always solid and not something that I could explain. Delta learned a long time ago to trust Conway’s gut or Chance or Mac which amounted to the same thing.
I dragged my phone from my pocket and called Sandra with the new information.
With Sandra on the line I spoke to Conway, “He didn’t give you a production company name?” That might be too much to hope for.
“Caramel Sauce,” she replied.
“Say again?”
“The company is called Caramel Sauce.”
I gave the name to Sandra and waited.
Seconds later Sandra found the information. “Kurt, they are a television production company, based in Virginia with two satellite offices. One in Oregon and the other in Texas.”
“Can you …”
“Already on it. I’m checking the databases now to see if any similar murders have occurred in Texas. So far nothing in ViCAP,” she replied.
“Thanks. Get Sam and Lee to go to the head office and make some inquiries. In particular I want to know if they have brothers on the pay roll and the details surrounding their bedroom renovation show.”
“Doing it now. How’s Ellie?”
I made eye-contact with Conway.
“She’s good.”
“Talk soon.” Sandra hung up. I pushed my phone into my jacket pocket.
Conway leaned on the wall beside me.
“A television company. That explains how the Unsubs new exactly what the bedrooms looked like. They would’ve photographed the rooms,” she said. “Let’s go talk to Louise and Jed, I want to visit the Oregon office of Caramel Sauce.”
* * *
“SSA Ellie Conway. FBI,” she said, showing her badge to the receptionist. “I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge.”
The woman nodded, rose from her chair and scurried into an office behind her. Moments later a short, chubby man appeared. Red faced and puffing. The receptionist stood behind him, unable to get to her desk.
“How can I help?” he asked, extending his chubby hand to me and ignoring Conway. “John Glass, manager of Caramel Sauce.”
I shook his hand.
“SSA Kurt Henderson, FBI. We have some questions about a television show your company is making. Something about bedroom renovations?”
He beamed. “Come in, come in. That’s our new project, we’re very excited about it.” He ushered us behind the desk and into a small office. Conway opted to remain standing just inside the door. I sat in the lone chair in front of the untidy desk.
“Do you have a list of people who have signed up to be part of this show?” I asked, flipping my notebook open and hoping John didn’t ask why we were interested.
His chubby fingers moved papers around on the surface of the desk until he produced a sheet of paper and handed it to me.
“This the list of people taking part.”
Head shots, names, and addresses. I handed it on to Conway.
“How about people who applied but weren’t chosen? Do you keep that information?”
He frowned. His fingers shuffling through more paper.
“We do,” he mumbled lifting a dog-eared piece of paper from the mess and looking at it. He started to hand it over then paused. “Why?”
Damn.
“We are trying to identify someone.” Not exactly the truth but if the names of the Oregon victims were on that list then progress toward a resolution would be imminent.
He passed the list to me. I thanked him and scanned it. Recognizing all three victims. I handed it to Conway.
“Is that all?” John asked.
“Not quite. An employee list would be helpful. Who is involved in this project?”
He stood up then sat back down.
An attempt at a smile happened, stretching the skin over his fat cheeks.
“Do you need a warrant for this information?” he asked.
“Not if you are willing to help us,” I replied. “Of course you can refuse, which would then give us cause to get a warrant. Usually people with nothing to hide are willing to help.”
“What am I helping you with?”
“We’re investigating a series of murders. I am quite happy to get a warrant and have police turn your office upside down looking for the information we require while you and I continue this discussion at the local police station.” I smiled. It wasn’t a threat. It was just how it would go down. “I’m sure your reputation as a film maker is strong enough to weather the media attention that goes along with such an event.”
“That probably isn’t necessary. What did you need again?”
“A list of employees especially any attached this this renovation program.”
A piece of paper miraculously appeared in his hand. I reached over and took it before it was offered or withdrawn.
Conway photographed the list with her phone and sent the photo to Sandra.
“We’ll have an answer in a few minutes,” she said.
“An answer?” John questioned.
I ignored his question and waited. The vibration of Conway’s phone cut through the air. I looked up as she read the text. She nodded at me, then replied to the text.
“Where can we find Steven Krill?” she said to John.
“On set, at this time of day. They’re renovating a bedroom. He’s one of our builders.”
“I know,” Conway replied. “His brother is a builder too, working for the company in Virginia.”
I stood up and joined Conway by the door. Facing Conway I said, “Lee and Sam moving on the brother?”
“Yes with their SWAT backup.”
I smiled. “Good job Conway.”
She shrugged. “It’s what we do. Let’s go get the bad guy.”
“Come with us please,” I said to John. “You can show us where the set is.”
Conway was on her phone talking to police. She handed her phone to John with instructions, “Tell this officer the address please.”
He did then handed the phone back.
“Five minutes,” Conway said before disconnecting the call.
* * *
Police cars waited for us down the block from the current renovation house. Lights rolling. I left John Glass with one of the police officers for safe keeping. He’d be making a full statement once the offender was in custody, whether he wanted to or not.
We moved in on foot with Louise, Jed, and four other officers. Conway and I had a current photo of Steven Krill on our phones. Sandra updated and supplemented our information on the Krill brothers as we walked down the block. Neither had any dealings with police. They weren’t in the system. Not even a speeding ticket. No fingerprints in the databases.
I touched Conway’s arm to get her attention.
“How’s the wound?”
“Okay,” she replied.
“And now for something completely different … the truth …”
“I’m fine. Let’s just do this thing,” Conway said as she checked her weapon.
“I want you behind me when we go through the door,” I said.
She started to argue then stopped. Wise.
There were people in the driveway. Delivery vans. I checked ID’s and faces against the photo of Krill on my phone. None of them matched. I asked them to move the vans out to the street.
Jed sent a team to the right and the left, within moments the renovation house was surrounded by police. I walked up to the open front door and knocked.
Someone called out but I couldn’t hear the words over hammering.
I knocked then yelled into the house. “Hello!”
Hammering stopped. Footsteps moved toward the door. I waited as a dusty looking male came into view sawdust fell from his clothing as he moved.
“Can I help?” he asked as he neared the open door.
I held my badge up. “SSA Kurt Henderson, FBI. I’m looking for Steven Krill.”
“Steve is down the hall, I’ll get him.” The man turned and hollered into the house. “Steve it’s for you!”
“Come out here a minute,” I said. “You are?”
“Cyrus,” he replied, stepping over the threshold.
Conway took his arm and moved him away from the door, passing him off to Jed.
“Just wait there for a minute,” she said.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor of the house. A man swung into view.
“You wanted me?” he called as he approached.
“Yes. It’s about your brother,” I said as Steven Krill stopped in front of me.
He frowned. Worry lines etched into his face.
“Is he all right?”
“Better if we talk outside, come walk with me,” I said, with a small smile. Steve stepped out the door and saw Conway, Jed and Louise.
He faltered, and then spun around. I grabbed his arm and twisted it up his back.
“Outside, Steven. Away from tools,” I said, snapping a handcuff on the wrist of the arm I held, then pulling his other arm back and securing the cuffs. I gave him a shove into the wall by the door and searched him, removing his tool belt, and several screwdrivers from his pockets.
“What’s this about? You said my brother …” Steven tried pushing himself off the wall with one shoulder.
“This is what we call a simultaneous arrest.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Steven Krill you are under arrest.”
“What for?” He squirmed as I pressed him back into the wall.
“Murder.” I turned to Jed. “You want to take it from here?”
Jed stepped up and took Steven Krill by the arm, he began reading the Miranda warning from a card he held in his hand.
My phone rang. Lee’s name flashed on the screen. I answered it.
“Got him?”
“Yes and his phone, and laptop, and yes, we found video of the murders,” Lee replied. Someone yelled in the background. I heard Sam’s voice, then more yelling.
“Everything all right?”
“Funnily enough the perp didn’t want to come with us.”
I laughed.
“We got enough to hold them both and charge them?”
“Yes,” Lee replied. “We’re golden.”
“We’re taking a rest day,” I said watching Conway as I spoke to Lee. “See you tomorrow.”
“She all right?”
“Tired, in a bit of pain, she’ll be fine.”
I hung up and motioned for Conway to join me.
“Let’s go find a hotel. New day tomorrow. I need you on deck for a Delta B training session.”
She smiled and for once didn’t argue.
THE END