by Brian Shea
"I think you're going to like what I just put together."
"Can't wait," Kelly said.
A second later, Kelly held a single-page printout with the name and date of birth for one Christopher Vance. The Clint Vesper name used to purchase the Agawam house now made more sense. He had given a false name but used the same initials, probably out of some comfort or another one of his quirks. Apparently, Christopher Vance had many quirks and a penchant for violence.
"Not much, though, huh? Name and date of birth. I'm not seeing a driver's license or anything."
"I know. I've run it. It's not coming up.”
“Then why is this sheet of paper interesting? It just looks like another dead end,” Kelly said, almost crunching the paper in frustration.
“See that Y next to DD214?”
Kelly looked down at the paper again, then nodded.
“That’s the military’s discharge paperwork. I ran him through the military records database and found something. I've just got to place a call or two to get a little more information. But it looks like our guy has a military service record. And with that, there'll be a DA photo if I can track it down."
Gray picked up his cell phone, scrolled through his contacts, and placed the call.
"It's Sterling. I know, long time. Need that favor now. I've got a name and date of birth. I need everything you have on this person, and a photo would be helpful." Gray then relayed the information he had and hung up.
Kelly only heard one side of the conversation but could pick it apart enough to know Gray had just reached out to a source, most likely someone within the Department of Defense.
"You seem to know a lot about the military," Kelly said. "I mean, the inner workings of it."
"Well, that's because I spent eight years in it."
Kelly nodded, impressed on two fronts. One, because he served, and two, that he'd never felt the need to mention it until asked.
"Army?" Kelly asked.
"No, Air Force. Pararescue."
"That's like Special Forces stuff, right?" Kelly was reminded of a Discovery Channel video he had seen during one of his late-night insomnia-induced TV binges.
"It is."
"And the contact you reached out to?"
"A friend. Somebody who owes me, somebody who has the ability to get us what we need. Our Mr. Vance has a military record. But everything I've tried to pull up in the database has been redacted. Typically, that’s done with either top secret or special operations. Either way, it would explain why he's been so effective at eluding us."
"And it further proves," Kelly offered, "your BAU guys were spot-on. The top of their analysis said ex-military/police." Kelly breathed a silent sigh of relief that the latter wasn't true. He'd already dealt with an undercover gone rogue and didn't have the stomach for dealing with another. Not that him being ex-military made it any better.
Gray's phone rang a minute later. The conversation was brief, less than ten seconds. All Gray said was, "I'll send you a fax number."
A few more minutes passed and the copier/fax machine whirred to life again. This time it printed several pages, the top one a black-and-white eight-by-ten of a young man in military uniform wearing wire-rimmed glasses.
Kelly picked it up, the paper still warm. He and Gray looked at the image and then at each other.
"I've waited a long time to see that face," Gray said. "And now we're going to put him behind bars."
"I like the sound of that," Kelly said. "Knowing who he is, knowing what he looks like is great, but we still don't know where he is.”
“One thing for certain, he's not going to go to a hospital. But we know he's injured. Barnes was confident she hit him. And the blood spatter recovered on the wall of the fireplace was most likely his. But again, DNA confirmation isn’t going to help us with the here and now."
Gray shuffled the papers and then found what he was looking for. He tapped it, directing Kelly's attention toward it. "Next of kin. Every service member has it in the event of their untimely death. A family member to whom their benefits would go and a point of contact if they were killed in action.”
“I thought his parents were killed.”
“It seems as though he had a sibling."
Kelly looked down at the name. "Marcy Vance, three years younger. Why was there no mention of her in that article about the fire?"
"Seems as though she was taken from the family on reports of abuse and put into the foster care system. But it looks like—and this is my guess, of course—that Vance making her his next of kin means he had reconnected with her, maybe after coming out of juvenile detention.”
“I didn't think you could serve in the military after committing a crime, especially murder."
Gray shrugged. "His juvenile record was redacted, number one. And number two, maybe it was deemed some level of self-defense and expunged. Either way, whatever the loophole, he was able to get through and into the service and apparently was good at what he did."
"And what was that exactly?" Kelly asked.
"He spent ten years in the Army, with the last five being in Special Forces. Two tours of combat, one in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. So, we're dealing with a combat vet with Special Forces experience. No wonder he's been a ghost. His whole life has been preparing him for this."
Kelly looked down at the address on the information sheet forwarded from Gray's contact. "His sister lives in Sudbury?"
"I guess we know where we’re going.”
27
It was dark as they pulled down Lakewood Drive in Sudbury, darker still because Kelly had shut off the Caprice’s headlights a few houses back. They crept along, slowing at the intersection with Basswood. Marcy Vance lived two houses up on the left on Lakewood. Kelly could fit ten triple decker homes in the space separating them from the target location.
He turned left onto Basswood and stopped out of view from the intersection.
Kelly had never been to Sudbury, but he understood why Christopher Vance would choose this as a place to hole up. It was rural and isolated. They'd done a Google Maps search and looked at it from the overhead satellite imagery before departing. Kelly had tried to get a ground-eye view, but apparently the mapping system hadn't gone down that road, or any of the others in this neighborhood.
The overhead showed it was surrounded by a dense forest. And it was no lie. Marcy Vance’s home backed up to the Assabet River Wildlife Preserve. The house itself wasn't very big in comparison to its neighbors. The records online showed it to be two thousand square feet, but with the surrounding acreage, it would fetch a hefty price on the market.
It would also keep Marcy secluded from her neighbors and make it the perfect hiding spot for their killer while he healed from the gunshot wound, or wounds, gifted to him by Kristen Barnes.
"I know Halstead said to stay put and wait till they can come up with an attack plan, but I think it's in our best interest to see if we can get a visual before we blow up this spot and make it obvious that we're onto him. If he wasn't running before, the minute he knows that we know who he is, he'll be gone forever."
"Fair enough," Kelly said, not wanting to disobey his boss again, but knowing if they rolled in with SWAT and turned out to be wrong, then this would probably be their last chance at ever finding him. Kelly sided with Gray. He didn’t want to ruin their best chance of catching the killer who’d eluded the FBI for fifteen years. The same killer who murdered Rourke, Kelly's partner, and had haunted him for almost nine years.
They exited the Caprice and made their way into the woods. When they looked at the topography, they saw a two-mile stretch of protected forestland that stretched toward Marcy Vance’s property line.
The ground was still frozen solid. The high trees had shaded most of the winter’s snow, leaving about five or six inches of iced-over, hard-packed snow. The benefit of it was that it brightened their walk, negating the need for them to use flashlights as they navigated the dense network of trees.
; Kelly saw a light in the distance as they got closer to the property line, or what they assumed was the property line. It was a lot easier when looking at the overhead map versus tracking their way in through the icy, snowy woodland area.
Kelly paused and picked up his binoculars. "That's our house. It’s got to be."
They were within visual range, at least through binoculars. Kelly spent the next several moments going from window to window. He was hoping to see their target pass by, but no such luck.
"Want to try moving a little closer?" Gray said. "I mean, it'd be great if we can get close and cover it from opposite corners of the house. We'd have a great vantage point for when tactical arrives. If he tries to evade, then we can cover pretty much the perimeter of the house visually with both of us."
"Okay, sounds fair enough. We'll break off when we get a little closer, and I'll work my way around to the other side unless you’d rather?" Kelly offered.
“Either’s fine by me.”
Kelly knew Gray was right about covering the perimeter. During his years on SWAT, he knew that a perimeter team, if you were short-handed, could be handled by posting two operators on opposite corners. Their visual periphery would effectively cover two sides of the house each, therefore making it possible for two men to hold all four. It wasn't ideal, but it was good enough for an overwatch while they waited for the tactical team to deploy.
SWAT wasn’t here. Kelly knew the lag time from activation to deployment. He didn't want to miss an opportunity, however fleeting it might be, to ensure that their target didn't escape.
He wasn’t completely disregarding his boss’s order. They’d briefed him on Vance’s military connection and his sister’s address. It had been Halstead who approved them getting eyes on the target location while the tactical element mobilized. What he didn’t approve was the two investigators getting out on foot and closing the distance to the house.
Kelly knew that by following along with Gray's plan, he was stepping beyond the gray area of his new boss's orders, and he wasn't sure how that was going to play out after Halstead had admonished him the other day for failing to keep him in the loop. But if it meant capturing Christopher Vance, The Penitent One, then he was willing to take the tongue lashing and any potential fallout.
They moved slowly, stopping every ten to fifteen steps and taking up a position near a tree. From there, they looked through their binoculars’ scoped lenses and scanned the house. Still nothing. No new lights had been turned on since they’d first spotted the location. There was one on the upper floor of the two-story house, and it looked like two of the rooms on the bottom floor were illuminated. Otherwise, the house was dark.
Kelly got an incoming text alert from Barnes. “Arrest warrant a go. SWAT heading your way. Be safe.”
"Goes without saying, we should be ready for anything," Gray said.
Kelly had held up the text to Gray as his radio chirped to life. The volume was as low as it could go without deactivating, but in the dark stillness of the forest, it echoed. Kelly panicked trying to turn it lower but almost turned it off.
It was Halstead. "Tactical en route. ETA twenty minutes."
Kelly responded, "Roger that. We have eyes on the house. Lights on, no visual of the suspect." He then clicked his radio off.
"We've got twenty minutes to work our way around this house before tactical lights it up and the show really begins. Think we can make it?"
"I don't see why not. Just keep a steady pace,” Gray said, stepping off.
A few minutes later they were nearing the back of the house. They didn't need the binoculars at this point, although they continued to use them when they stopped.
The trees ran right up to the house, minus a twenty-foot open swath behind a patio.
"All right, this is where we should separate,” Gray said. “I can cover the back corner if you want to work your way around."
"Maybe with your military background, you should be the one sneaking around back,” Kelly said, thinking twice and defaulting to the man's special forces background.
"Fair enough." Gray peered out at the dense wood line.
Kelly took one step forward to better position himself behind a thick maple tree’s knotted trunk when he felt something snag his foot. He instinctively bent and tugged at it, thinking it was a vine or a root. His fingers immediately registered the difference.
He looked down at what he was caught up in. A small orb planted in the ground only a few feet high bounced a barely visible green beam of light against the outside of his boot. "What the hell is this?" Kelly said in a hushed whisper.
Gray bent down, clearing away some snow and underbrush around his boot. He canted his head sideways, running his eyes up and down the path of the beam. “Shit," he said. "Motion sensor."
"Like the exploding kind?" Kelly asked, his heart racing as he remembered the fireball at the Agawam house.
"No. But it’s tripped. If he's in there, he knows we're coming."
They both simultaneously looked toward the house. Kelly stepped over the wire and scanned with his binoculars. The light on the second floor went out.
"He's here. I'm going to be moving fast," Gray said. "If he pops up, cover me."
"Will do." Kelly shuffled further toward the house, watching where he stepped.
Gray was moving in a sweeping direction to flank around the back side of the house when he let out a blood-curdling scream.
Kelly left his position and sprinted over, trying to be as careful as possible, not sure where the threat was coming from. When he got to Gray, he was biting down hard on the sleeve of his heavy coat, muffling the screams of agony while gripping his right shin.
Kelly looked down and saw with dismay a bear trap had snapped shut against his shin bone. The teeth ripped through the jeans. Even in the poor light, Kelly could see the broken bone poking out of his skin. It was a devastating wound to behold. Warm blood melted the icy hardpack as tendrils of steam rose up around the injured leg.
This is bad. Kelly went for his radio.
Gray reached up and grabbed his arm. "He's going to be coming. No way he didn’t hear that. This wood line is probably loaded with them.” He grit his teeth in an effort to maintain composure. “There's no way around it. He's going to know where we are from the motion sensor. You've got to get ready."
"Your leg," Kelly said, looking down at it. "You're going to bleed out."
"I'll be okay." Gray immediately undid the belt from his pants and cinched a makeshift tourniquet just below his knee. "This will hold it. I'll be fine. Just make sure he doesn't get away. This is our only chance. Do you understand me? This is it."
Kelly nodded. "He's not going anywhere."
He moved out, disregarding the crunch of icy snow beneath his feet. Kelly was almost at a run when he slipped on a patch of ice. His feet shot out from under him and he landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of himself momentarily. As he sat up, his face was peppered by fragmented wood chips, stinging his cold skin. Kelly looked up to see three holes punched in the bark of the tree in front of him.
He never heard the shots, even in the quiet, although the crunching and movement in the trees and the ice underneath didn't help. Kelly was being hunted.
He scrambled behind a nearby tree trunk. Pinned down, he reached for his radio as three more rounds hit a tree on the other side of him.
Kelly started backing up, working himself away from the kill zone in some poor attempt at a crab walk. Moving on all fours, staying low, he tried to keep as many trees as possible between himself and the killer stalking him.
His hand ran into something cold and sharp. Kelly turned. Just beneath a few ice-covered branches was the jagged, sharp teeth of an open bear trap. Just like the one that got Gray. And Kelly had almost put his hand inside it.
He was about to bypass it when he had a thought.
Kelly let out a scream rivaling Gray's. Possibly louder. "My leg!"
Gray was close, but not that close.
He heard him call out in a hushed whisper, "Stay down, Kelly. I'll try to come to you."
Kelly responded, "Stay where you're at." He then screamed again for effect, but stayed tucked behind the tree, which was now shredded by bullets.
He worked his fingers around the base of the trap. It took a little effort, but he quickly released it from the frozen ground’s icy grip.
Kelly waited in the dark. Every few seconds, he'd let out a wail or a curse, giving away his position time and time again.
Less than a minute later, he heard the crunch of approaching footsteps, still a short distance away but closing in. Kelly knew it could be only one person, and he was coming to finish the job.
Adding to his ruse, Kelly picked up his radio, still turned off, and relayed, "All units be advised, Gray and I are both down. I repeat—officers down! The place is booby trapped. All responding units, take caution. Target on scene!"
The crunching steps were closer now. Kelly rolled to his side and wailed, projecting his voice to one side of the tree just as he heard the killer step around the other.
Split seconds. That was all it took. Action versus reaction. Kelly rolled to his side, facing Vance, and flung the bear trap forward. Vance raised the gun to shoot as the trap struck his extended hand and slammed shut with a sickening crunch.
The pistol was knocked from his hand as Vance wailed like a siren. The damage from the steel trap’s sharp teeth was readily apparent, nearly severing his hand clean off.
Not waiting for him to recover or react, Kelly launched himself off the icy ground and swung his right hand down harder than he’d ever thrown a punch. Kelly’s legendary overhand right crashed into Vance's face. He felt the crunch of his nose and the snap of his glasses underneath his bare knuckles. A devastating blow in the ring. More so now, ungloved and unpadded, his cold, hard knuckles delivering justice a long time coming. And it felt good.