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CHAPTER THREE

Jack Harper was tired of jumping through hoops and answering to barking superiors who all had their own way of doing things. They couldn’t agree on protocol if it bit them in the ass, and with the rules changing all the time, no one had a chance of deciphering them. Still, he’d messed up; he’d take that burden on his shoulders. Someone had died. Someone who didn’t need to. Someone who would still be alive if he’d only figured out another plan to ensnare the serial killer that he and his team had hunted last month. But the past was the past, and Jack was well aware at fifty-four, there was no going back—no do-overs. Yet here he was again, haunted by his past. He was just grateful the FBI director had agreed to reinstate him for this investigation. Then again, it would have been stupid of him not to.

Jack and his team were on an FBI jet headed to Arkansas. They’d land in Fayetteville, meet up with those from the local FBI field office, and then make the half-hour drive to Huntsville. They had four and a half hours until touch-down, providing them ample opportunity to become more familiar with the person they were hunting.

“He calls himself the Leopard,” Jack said. “Male, as you may have already concluded. He’s been dormant for fifteen years. Before that, we believe the same man was responsible for the murders of six people—all couples, all Caucasian—in the past twenty-five years. The same killing method was used for all of them. And then there’s the killer’s signature.”

“Caucasian,” Kelly said, not touching on the “signature” bit. “So the killer probably is as well.”

Jack nodded. “As we all know here, a serial killer rarely crosses ethnic lines, though there are always exceptions. In this case, you’re correct, Agent Marsh. He is a white male, estimated to currently be in his mid-to-late forties.”

“‘The Leopard’? Why that name?” Paige asked.

“Leopards are quite the hunters. They ambush or stalk their prey and hunt alone.” Jack’s face twisted with shadows. “They are solitary animals, opportunistic, and hard to find.”

“That’s on the mark for this killer by the sounds of it already.” Paige sighed.

Jack nodded, deciding to loop back around to the killer’s final touch. “Then there’s the cat’s-eye marbles. His signature. The victims’ eyes are removed, and we can only assume he takes these with him as his trophies. In the past, we theorized that the killer might have wanted to be the last thing his victims ever saw, and that’s why he removed their eyes. We also figure he chose a golden yellow, and not green or some other color, to more closely resemble a leopard.”

“But fifteen years is a long time to be dormant,” Brandon tossed out. “Maybe he’s killed victims we’re not aware of.”

Jack met Brandon’s gaze. “There’s no way.” Or is there, and I missed finding them? What Brandon and the others didn’t know was Jack had stayed vigilant for any signs of this killer’s MO, and nothing had popped in the system. Anywhere.

“Even out of state?” Brandon added, as if reading his mind.

“Anywhere.” Jack heard the bite to his tone, and it had his team looking at him, but he wasn’t apologetic for it. He’d been doing this job for almost as long as Brandon had been alive.

“All right, then,” Paige said gingerly. “It only leaves the possibility that something had prevented our unsub from killing. Those who kill for pleasure don’t typically stop unless they’re forced to do so.”

Jack nodded at Paige, glad to have her on his team. The two of them went way back. “That’s correct, but this guy also has a pattern. For the three sets of murders that we’re aware of besides this latest one, five years had passed between each one.”

“So, couple one twenty-five years ago,” Paige began. “Couple two twenty years ago. Couple three, as already touched on, fifteen years ago. Now the Durans. So what prevented him from killing? Incarceration or illness perhaps?”

“Could be anything. It’s far too soon to know.”

“Five years in between kills, though, seems very specific,” Kelly started. “Did you ever figure out why that was the case, Jack?”

“Not really. Obviously he can control his urges to kill.”

“He could have chosen to lie low.” Brandon shrugged when they all looked at him, and added, “It would make it easier for him to evade capture.”

Jack nodded. “This case was the first one I picked up as FBI—twenty-five years ago. And, as I touched on a moment ago, this killer is a chameleon. He gets off by first immersing himself into his victims’ lives, blending into small communities. He stayed in each location for five years before killing his victims.”

“Now that’s commitment,” Kelly said.

“And dedication. As you know, that was not the case with the Durans, so we’ll need to figure out why he changed that aspect of his MO. All of you have a recap of the previous case files in the folders in front of you.” He gestured to them. “You’ll get the gist of the investigation’s progress which, sad to say, hasn’t been much. In the past cases, though, the unsub leased farm property. Each one had a farmhouse, a barn, fields, and woods. He integrated himself into the community and became one of them.”

“That would have been more of a…high.” Brandon had shuddered as the plane buffeted with some turbulence.

“Absolutely,” Jack agreed. “He was a killer, but no one would have had a clue. In fact, he became everyone’s friend in the small towns he chose. He got involved with the communities. Built up trust. You have photos taken by the townspeople of the unsub—but don’t get excited. He disguises his true appearance.”

“He thinks of everything,” Brandon mumbled.

Jack was ready to get ahead of the curve. “Yes, so we can’t discount him. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s organized, methodical, intelligent. It’s believed that childhood trauma may have led to him doing what he does.”

“How did he get the victims to his place?” Paige asked.

“The unsub would invite his would-be prey over for dinner. They’d go without hesitation because, as I said, he was a friend.”

“Huh,” Paige said. “Wonder how he worked things with the Durans.”

“We’ll certainly need to do some digging. He still could have inserted himself into the community. History, at least, tells us he was good at stalking his victims and becoming a part of their worlds. There’s no doubt he utilized some of these gifts this time around too. His method of disposal was different with the Durans than the past cases as well. The Durans were left in the woods to bleed out, but with the previous six victims, he dragged them back to the barn where he hung them from the rafters. By the time anyone noticed the victims were missing, the Leopard was long gone.”

“You said he rented the properties in the past,” Brandon said. “Were you able to narrow in on him with financial records?”

“Nope.” Jack had this gnawing in his gut. There were times this case had him feeling like a failure and questioning his abilities as an investigator. “Nothing much to find. He did open bank accounts but did so under assumed names. He also used these aliases to rent the properties. Each name was different and led nowhere, just like the money. For each account, only a single cash deposit was made to open it, from which he paid for rent and living expenses.”

“Cash deposit, so no tracking there. Unless he was captured on bank video,” Kelly said.

“And he was, but it still didn’t get us anywhere. As I mentioned a minute ago, he changes his appearance. He had money at his disposal, but where that source is, we have yet to find out.”

“I can’t believe he stayed at the various rental properties for five years,” Brandon said.

Paige shook her head. “He has to be a psychopath to blend in and become everyone’s friend.”

Brandon angled his head, studied Jack’s eyes. “Did you ever get close to him?”

The answer to that question pained him more than almost anything—almost. “Not really. He never leaves anything behind that we can use forensically to track him, no prints or DNA.” Jack’s mind fed him a haunting recollection from the first scene twenty-five years ago.

“There’s something you need to see.” An FBI crime scene investigator comes over to him.

Jack’s been staring at the bodies dangling from the beams since he stepped into the barn at least an hour before. He’s counting the passing seconds until they are down on the ground and afforded some human dignity. A medical examiner and his assistant, along with some investigators, are working on that now.

“Jack,” the CSI prompts.

“Ah, yeah.” He turns, and the CSI is holding two small evidence bags.

He extends one to Jack. Inside is a handwritten note that reads, “I’ll never stop.” It is signed, “The Leopard.”

Jack feels rage curdle up within him, but he turns to the other bag and points. “What’s that?” he asks the CSI.

“The other part of the message. Though I’m not quite sure what to make of it.” The CSI hands this bag to him.

If it’s possible to feel something from an object, Jack is sensing something just holding the items through the plastic. It is hard to pin down what exactly, but he lands on darkness and pure evil. Still, he doesn’t give it back to the investigator.

Yellow cat’s-eye marbles.

“I’ll never stop.” Jack feels himself go cold and rushes toward where the bodies are being taken down.

The female is already freed, and her remains are on a black tarp. Jack gets in closer, despite grumblings from the ME, whom he waves off. Jack has a suspicion… When the victims had been hanging, something was off with their faces, though it was hard to figure out what with how far up they’d been, but their cheeks were stained with blood.

He holds up the bag with the cat’s-eye marbles and crouches down next to the woman. His image is reflected back at him in the marbles that are in her eye sockets. He looks over his shoulder at the CSI, who had trailed him to get his evidence back. “It was part of the message, all right.”

“I’ll never stop…”

“Jack?” Paige prompted him.

“I’ll never stop,” he repeated. “Those are the words the killer wrote in a note that he left at the crime scene twenty-five years ago. His first couple. He even left an extra set of marbles to show his intent. Brandon’s right. Maybe I just haven’t been looking in the right place. Maybe this guy wants us to think he’s been dormant all this time, but he hasn’t been.” Jack fell silent, guilt rolling over him.

“His circumstances could have changed,” Paige offered.

“Actually, Jack, if he had killed in the last fifteen years—sticking to his MO and signature, anyway—I’m sure you would have seen something in the ViCap database,” Brandon said.

ViCap—the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program—was a national, searchable database used by the FBI to house statistical data from serial violent crimes.

Jack considered and sighed. “Obviously, we’re missing something, but he could have altered his MO more than we know.”

“So we look at different aspects of it, let each methodology stand on its own,” Kelly suggested. “Maybe he hasn’t targeted couples during the last fifteen years or cut out eyes… The list of possible variation goes on.”

“I’ll have Nadia run some searches, plucking for the various elements.” He hated that he hadn’t thought of that himself—particularly the couples’ bit. It just seemed like such a critical part of the unsub’s MO, Jack found it hard to imagine that he’d let that go.

“I’m sure it’s in here”—Paige patted the folder in front of her—“but what else stands out about victimology, besides the fact the victims were all Caucasian and targeted as couples? You mentioned they were from small towns?”

“Yes. Also something to keep in mind… He seems to choose people who are about the same age as he is, so the age of the victims would change as time goes on. Oh, and another thing. With the previous cases, the victims had secrets they’d held from the rest of the world. Could go as far as saying some of them had led double lives.”

“Such as adultery and domestic abuse?” Kelly asked.

Jack regarded her, well aware of her past and understanding why she’d gone there. “Yes to both. As you read the past files, you’ll find this out. One was in hock with gambling debt, another was a highly functioning alcoholic, and so on. Best all of you can do right now is get familiar with what’s in those folders. This guy’s always been one step ahead, and it’s time for us to get ahead of him.”

Jack’s eyes landed on Brandon, who held his gaze, then nodded and turned his attention to the folder in front of him. Kelly already had her nose in a report. When he shifted to Paige, he noted she was watching him. She’d always been able to see through him, whether he liked it or not. She’d probably witnessed his desperation to close this case, possibly more.

But he was no longer in the mood for talking. He was in the mood for a cigarette, in part thanks to this killer who had him starting the filthy habit in the first place. But he had hours to go before he could light up and take a few deep hits of nicotine.

Jack pulled out his phone and called Nadia. He’d have her check country-wide for the different aspects of the killer’s MO, including single murders, see if anything popped. As he made the request, it returned to his ears as a shot in the dark, but he couldn’t just surrender. If he stood any chance of actually bringing the big cat down this time, he had to try every possible angle he could conjure up.

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