SIX

Cindy Linthicum stopped a moment to catch her breath. The afternoon air was invigorating, and the vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges of the leaves on the trees in Forest Park were magnificent. She breathed in the fall air and began to jog in place, getting ready to finish her journey through St. Louis’s premier park. The sky above her had been filling with clouds that promised rain, so she needed to complete her run before the weather got bad. She took off her glasses and wiped them on her sweatshirt. Then she put them back on and pulled the woolen cap covering her short dark hair a little tighter. When she got home, she’d drink coffee and work on her blog. She enjoyed sharing her love of Amish fiction, scrapbooking, and collecting cookbooks with online friends. Life was good.

She left the regular running trail and headed toward the art museum, her favorite building in Forest Park. She liked to sit on the steps for a few minutes at the end of her run and enjoy a magnificent view of the Grand Basin, an incredible water feature created on the other side of Art Hill, which was situated between the two famous sites. The trees along the avenue in front of the grand structure glowed red as if they were on fire. As she ran toward the front of the building, she noticed someone lying on a park bench to her right. At first she thought he was asleep. As she jogged past she noticed he was wearing a nice suit but his shoes were gone. His hands were folded oddly across his chest. She stopped, turned around, and jogged over to check on him.

When she approached the bench, she called out, but there was no response. When she got a closer look, Cindy Linthicum began to scream.

Solomon slammed his phone down and cursed under his breath. Then he got up and hurried past Grace, who looked surprised to see her boss doing anything outside of his tightly controlled schedule. He pulled open the door of the conference room and interrupted Noah and Kaely, who appeared to be deep in conversation.

“He’s already struck,” he said. “His first murder was carried out before we got the poem.”

Kaely looked surprised. “How do you know it’s our guy?”

“The killer pinned an outline of an elephant on the dead guy’s chest with the number 1 drawn inside of it. The chief of police just called to let me know. If we hadn’t alerted him about the letter, it might have been a while before we were able to link this to our UNSUB.”

“Has the crime scene been cleared yet?” Kaely asked.

“No. The body’s been removed and the scene is intact, but it’s starting to rain. They’re doing everything they can to protect the evidence. I think you need to stay here, Kaely. You go, Noah.”

Kaely shook her head. “We’re a team, Solomon. We both go or I want out.” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Look, let’s get this out into the open. I know you’re worried about my safety, but our UNSUB isn’t going to move against me yet. He has a long-range plan. It’s a game. Taking me out now would ruin the fun.” She glanced quickly at Noah before saying, “Besides, you need my eyes there. I could pick up something others might miss.”

“You mean me?” Noah asked sharply.

“No, I mean the police. They have an excellent crime lab, but I trust our training above theirs.”

Solomon frowned at her. “I don’t know.”

Kaely stood up. “Solomon, I’m a professional, capable agent. You made me co-case agent on this. Let me do my job.”

Solomon fixed his gaze on Noah. “All right. But I want you to keep a close eye on her. Understand?”

When Kaely started to say something, he waved her comment away. “I’m not going to argue with you about this, Special Agent Quinn. I respect you, and I respect your training. But if I feel one of my agents is in danger, whatever I decide to do, I expect you to accept it. I’m still in charge, I think.” He had no plans to argue with her. Right or wrong, he had a feeling. Warning bells going off inside. He’d felt them before during his career and had learned to trust them. “Do you have any problems with that?”

Kaely’s face flushed, but she shook her head. “No, sir.”

“What about you, Special Agent Hunter?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem.”

“Then head to the art museum in Forest Park,” he said. “Both of you. We really don’t need an invitation when one of our agents is threatened, but let’s play it like we do. Thank the police chief and treat him with deference. He’s always been willing to work with us. I don’t want to make him feel like we’re taking over . . . yet. We’re going to need his help down the road.”

“Okay,” Noah said. “We’ll be respectful.”

“So can we call in ERT to go over the crime scene?” Kaely asked.

“If the chief says it’s okay. I know you have more confidence in our people, but St. Louis has great crime scene investigators who don’t miss much. If the chief doesn’t want our team in there, don’t argue with him.”

Kaely closed the files and stood up.

“Leave them,” Solomon said. “This room is yours now.”

“Thanks, Solomon,” Noah said. He nodded at Kaely. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

They left the room and hurried down the hallway. Solomon stared at the door as it closed behind them. This could be the most valuable team he’d ever put together. As long as being human didn’t get in the way.

Noah pulled into the entrance of Forest Park and drove toward the art museum. Warm afternoon rain mixed with frosty November air, causing an eerie mist to cover the area. Police lights sliced through the fog, revealing their location. Noah followed the road to where a crime-scene van was parked. Crime technicians were gathered around a bench near a line of trees.

The bench wasn’t far from the impressive building that housed the museum. The statues that lined the top of the museum appeared to be looking down on them, staring with horror at the scene of death that didn’t belong in view of the idyllic structure. The statues, acquired through the 1904 World’s Fair, symbolized six great periods of art: Egyptian, Classic, Gothic, Oriental, Renaissance, and Modern. But the crowd that gathered to stare at the work of a killer wasn’t there to appreciate works of beauty. They had assembled to examine a study in horror.

Noah stopped in front of the museum, not wanting to get in the way of law enforcement officers or crime-scene techs. Kaely started to get out of the car, but he stopped her.

“I think you should stay here,” he said. “This could be a setup.”

“Our UNSUB has written a play with seven acts. This is only the first one. I’m perfectly safe.”

Noah looked at her pointedly. “You’re going to do this my way. I’m in charge. At least wait until I scope out the area.”

“Our car doesn’t have bulletproof glass, you know. He could take me out while I’m sitting here if he wanted to. You’re just afraid of letting Solomon down.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “You read me wrong this time. Believe it or not, I really don’t want to see you die. Too much paperwork to fill out.”

Kaely looked away, but not before Noah saw the hint of a smile on her face. She didn’t say anything but finally nodded her assent.

Noah got out and walked around the car. Except for some people standing back by the road that led to the park, no one seemed suspicious. Frankly, he felt Solomon had been right to question whether Kaely should come to the crime scene. However, it seemed she got her way when she pushed. Noah went back to the car, opened the trunk, and took out two hooded jackets. When he opened Kaely’s door, he handed her one, which she took. Once they put them on, they began walking toward the spot where the police had gathered.

“I need to see your credentials, sir,” an officer said to Noah as they approached the area protected by bright yellow tape. Even though they wore jackets with FBI emblazoned across the back and front, this was a crime scene and protocol had to be followed.

Noah and Kaely took out their creds. “Chief Harper called us to look the situation over.”

The officer nodded. “I was told you were coming. Sorry, I had to check.”

Noah nodded. “Not a problem. We understand.”

“Notice anyone suspicious hanging around, officer?” Kaely asked. “Anyone who seems a little too interested?”

The young cop frowned. “Actually, yeah. See that man over there? The guy with the red hair and the beard? Says he’s a newspaper reporter.”

Noah and Kaely turned at the same time. Jerry Acosta watched them from behind the crime-scene tape. He had on a raincoat, but his head was uncovered, and he didn’t have an umbrella. His shoes were covered in mud. He looked like a drowned rat. Noah could tell he had something under his raincoat. Probably a camera.

“Oh great,” Kaely said. She turned back and smiled widely at the officer, surprising Noah. “Yeah, he is, but he’s not someone you want to talk to. Please don’t give him any information. Let’s wait for the chief to release a statement.”

The cop returned Kaely’s smile. He was clearly charmed by her. “The chief already told us not to give any information to the press. Everyone else has been cooperating, but that guy’s really pushy. We found him hiding behind the trees over there, taking pictures. We made him move behind the tape.”

“We’ve run into him before,” Kaely said. “He’s a real pain. I don’t trust him.”

The young officer nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Noah thanked the officer. As they walked away, he said, “So you can smile.”

“When it’s necessary to get what I want.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Kaely grunted. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

Noah grinned. “I’ve been told.”

As they drew closer, Noah recognized Chief of Police Dan Harper. Short and muscular, he had a reputation for being tough, but he was great at getting results. The chief noticed them and walked over to greet them. When he nodded at them, a trickle of water ran down the top of his hat and dribbled onto his poncho.

“Figured this would be something you’d be interested in,” he said. “Seems to be connected to that poem you sent us this morning. Anything you can do to shed some light would be appreciated. This is certainly a weird one.”

“Thanks for calling us, chief,” Noah said. “I’m Special Agent Noah Hunter, and this is Special Agent Kaely Quinn.” He flashed his badge but noticed Kaely didn’t do the same.

The chief smiled. “I know Agent Quinn. She’s helped us many times.” He held his hand out first to Kaely. “Good to see you again,” he said as they shook hands enthusiastically. Then he extended his hand to Noah, but only after looking him up and down. “Where’s Special Agent Cartwright?”

“Transferred to Detroit,” Kaely said quickly. “He has family there.”

The chief nodded. “Too bad for St. Louis. Good man.”

Kaely nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Agent Hunter. Too bad the circumstances are so tragic.”

“What have you got here, chief?” Kaely asked.

The chief and Kaely began walking toward the area where other LEOs were already gathered. For a moment, Noah felt like a third wheel, but he reminded himself that this was what it was going to be like hanging around Kaely Quinn. She was the rock star. He was the roadie, even if he was in charge of the investigation. He wondered if he needed to say or do something to establish his authority. But was it really that important? For now, finding the person who wrote the poem was their top priority. Noah decided he could handle any slights that might come from being teamed with Kaely. Truthfully, he was intrigued. This was shaping up to be the most interesting day he’d had as an FBI agent. He wasn’t ready to leave the adrenaline rush behind . . . yet.

The body was gone, and the forensic team was scouring the area for evidence, anything that might lead them to their unknown subject. Gathering clues and evidence was the key to turning the unknown into the known.

“Any idea who the victim is, chief?” Kaely asked.

He shook his head. “No ID on him. His clothes weren’t right for running. And he wasn’t wearing shoes. Of course, it’s possible our UNSUB took them. Or maybe a homeless person saw a chance for an upgrade. We’re checking the park to see if we can locate them.”

“What about house keys?”

“Nope,” the chief said.

“Either your UNSUB is taking trophies, or he’s trying to make it hard for you to identify the victim.”

“You’re right.” Chief Harper called out to a woman taking pictures. She came over to where they waited.

“Agent Quinn, do you remember our crime-scene photographer, Officer Glans?”

“Yes, I do. Hello, Patsy. How are you? This is Special Agent Noah Hunter.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Nice to meet you.” Officer Glans looked Noah up and down. Then she grinned at Kaely. “You sure have a knack for getting paired with good-looking partners, Agent Quinn.”

Noah was surprised to see Kaely blush. “Not on purpose. Agent Hunter is one of the best we have.”

Glans winked at Kaely. “Sure, honey. If you say so.”

Chief Harper cleared his throat. “Officer Glans,” he said, emphasizing the word officer, “would you show these agents the pictures of our victim?”

Glans immediately lost her smile and seemed to remember she was standing next to the chief of police. “Yes, sir,” she said. She held up her camera, which was wrapped in plastic, and pulled the LCD panel to the side, careful to shield it from the rain. She pressed a button and began to review the pictures she’d taken. Suddenly, she stopped. “Here he is,” she said. Kaely leaned closer to Glans and Noah stood over her. He could clearly see the image of a man lying on the park bench, staring up at the sky with sightless eyes. He was dressed in a nice blue suit. Tie. No shoes, just black socks.

Officer Glans clicked to another picture, this time giving them a closer look at the man’s head. “Medical examiner said he was killed this morning. Blunt force trauma,” she said. “Strange-shaped weapon though. Not sure what it was.”

“Left-handed putter,” Kaely said in a whisper only Noah could hear.

He glanced at her, trying to see if she was kidding. How in the world could she know something like that?

Chief Harper, who had walked away for a moment to talk to another officer, came back. “You need to see this,” he said, handing Kaely something in an evidence bag. She took it carefully as if she expected it to explode. Noah peered over her shoulder. It was the piece of paper with the drawing of an elephant on it. Inside the elephant was the number 1. “Good thing we got here before it started raining. This image might have been washed away.”

“Yes, it is,” Kaely said. She stared at the chief. “Is it possible for us to see your evidence? Crime-scene photos, forensics, everything?”

The chief frowned at her. “Sure. Can you tell me what’s going on, Agent Quinn?”

Kaely rubbed her hands together as if trying to warm them up. “We’ve got the makings of a serial killer on our hands, chief. I think this is going to be a bad one.”