It took another twenty-five minutes to reach the cabin, up a side road, winding through thick forest with very few houses nearby.
Dominic noticed her glancing around. “Galveston owned most of this mountain.”
“Where’d all the money go after his death?” asked Ava.
“A distant cousin I believe. Victims were also compensated.”
Ava couldn’t imagine it put a dent in the heartbreak of the families.
Dominic leaned forward and peered up the hill on her side of the road. “There’s the cabin.” He pointed through the trees.
Ava saw a massive construction. A rustic version of a mansion was a more apt description. The fine hair on her nape sprang up.
“Place gives me the creeps,” Dominic admitted, tucking his sunglasses into his jacket pocket. It was one of the things she really liked about him. He wasn’t afraid to own his mistakes or show weakness. He was comfortable about who he was and confident in his abilities.
She parked in front of the property, and they both climbed out, tense and wary, looking for any signs of trouble. Without talking they retrieved their ballistic vests from the trunk, constantly scanning the trees and the house as they strapped them on.
If she was the person orchestrating these attacks on the FBI in revenge for the death of Peter Galveston, this was where she’d be hanging out. In the place he’d committed his crimes.
Ava tightened the Velcro straps and rested her hand on the handle of her Glock.
“Let’s check the garage first. See if anyone is home.”
Ava nodded, covering Sheridan’s rear, barrel pointed at the ground so no one accidentally got shot.
No birds sang, no squirrels chattered. The only thing that moved were the leaves rustling in the breeze. Ava’s pulse gave a few unsteady beats before training enabled her to settle her breathing. This was the sort of situation that made her nerves dance, but she knew what to do, she could handle it. And so could Sheridan.
They checked the garage, looking through the murky glass of the side windows. An ATV and a snow mobile were in there, but no cars or trucks.
Silently they headed to the front door, and Dominic rang the doorbell. The sound echoed inside the cathedral ceilings, but no one answered.
Dominic held her gaze for a moment, the indigo of his eyes as dark as a shadow.
“When Galveston was active, he’d get a victim into his vehicle by first tasering them and bundling them inside, then tying their hands behind their back and gagging them.”
Dominic moved along the wraparound deck toward the back door, looking into the house through the large windows. “Once he had them terrified and firmly under control, he’d force them at gunpoint into this house and take them to a make-shift bedroom on the upper floor.”
He pointed to a top corner of the property.
Ava’s grip tightened on her weapon, but she steadied her breathing, not wanting to look jumpy.
“It was basically an unfinished storage space in the attic at the back of the house with no windows. Galveston turned it into a cell and locked the captives up in chains that were bolted to the floor. They had a toilet and when he was away in the city, he’d leave them some bottled water, a kettle, and Ramen noodles so they didn’t starve to death. He had a camera system set up so he could watch them and if they tried to escape, he’d beat them. I think there were other people involved, people who checked on them, but they never appeared in the videos, and we never caught them.
“When he entertained friends here, he’d sedate the captive women by putting GHB into their water.” Dominic’s mouth tightened as they both acknowledged the connection to what had happened to him. “He filmed himself raping victims and torturing them. He’d bring them downstairs where he had a hook in the ceiling he’d attach them to so they hung there naked. Just out of reach of the telephone.” Dominic’s footsteps on the wooden boards echoed hollowly. “He kept a couple of them in dog kennels downstairs and made them wear leather outfits and ball gags and crawl around on all fours and eat out of dog bowls. Pretty sure he was going to pretend he was into kink should anyone ever talk to the women. Those were his favorites according to the videos. His pets.”
The imagery was caustic.
“Why did he kill them if they were his favorites?”
“They’d displease him in some way, or try to escape, or he’d go too far with his sadism. He kept some of them for months. Often several at once.”
Ava shuddered. “How many altogether?”
“Victims?” Dominic knocked harder on the back door.
“Yeah.” Ava scanned the forest as Dominic examined the house.
Nothing moved except the ghosts of victims past.
“We identified the DNA of fifteen women on his sex toys—although the youngest was only fourteen years old at the time of her abduction.”
Ava felt chilled to the bone. That these monsters existed…
“There’s no one here.” Dominic glanced upward and frowned.
How many times had those imprisoned women heard someone at the door? How many times had escape and rescue been just out of reach? They’d never know.
“Let’s take a scout around as we’re here.” Dominic seemed reluctant to leave. He wanted answers. They all wanted answers.
Ava nodded and holstered her weapon as they stepped off the porch.
Dominic headed up the hill to the ridge behind the cabin. At the top they both stood for a moment, Ava a little freaked out by Galveston’s crimes. The malevolence and narcissistic nature of a psychopath’s mindset was one of the things that set them apart from the rest of humanity.
“If you hadn’t caught him, he might have carried on killing for years.”
“It was luck.”
Ava shook her head. “No. It was good police work. You set a trap, and he walked right into it.”
Dominic’s mouth pulled downward. “I’m going to call Sandy, see how her husband is doing.”
The attacks seemed to be weighing heavily on his conscience. She understood it and didn’t bother to reassure him. That kind of self-forgiveness took time and perspective.
Dominic looked at his cell and swore. “At least I would if I had service.”
Ah, crap. She rested her hand back on her weapon as they went for a short walk around the property. The brush was thick with summer growth, making it possible for someone to easily hide from them. They circled the entire property and came up beneath their rental car. Rather than return to the vehicle, Dominic headed back up to the top of the ridge.
“What is it?” Ava asked, feeling slightly out of breath trying to keep up with Dominic striding up the steep incline.
He pulled a face. “I don’t know. Just…something. I feel like there’s something here. I want to find it.”
“Well, it certainly has an atmosphere,” Ava commented dryly.
They walked together back down the hill. Taking another route through a different section of woods.
Ava spotted it first.
She grabbed his arm, and they both stopped, then pulled their weapons.
Slowly they advanced upon a cleared patch of the forest floor. Bushes prevented anyone seeing it from the driveway.
“What is this?” Ava murmured under her breath. She stayed behind Dominic, covering their rear.
“A makeshift graveyard.”
“I can see that.” There were dozens of white-painted crosses staked into the ground. “You think anyone is actually buried here?”
“I don’t know.” Dominic walked carefully toward the crosses, some of which bore names. “Molly Jenner. Olivia Lopez. Frauke Holland. These are some of the names of the victims.” In the center was a larger cross, one that was more ornate. Peter Galveston was written first in big letters and then in small beneath. No dates of birth or death were listed.
On the right-hand side were crosses bearing the names of the FBI agents who’d caught him. Ava looked closely. Van’s name was there. So was Dominic’s.
&n
bsp; “You have a cross.” She felt sick.
“Still not dead.”
“I’m glad.”
He flashed her a smile.
“So do Fernando Chavez and Sandra Warren. Think this is Caroline Perry’s work? Did she set everything in motion and then assume she’d successfully killed you all? She killed herself so she wasn’t caught and had to pay for her crimes?”
He sniffed. “I don’t know. I do think it’s possible. I also think it’s possible she’s a decoy. Rooney said there were drag marks beside her vehicle next to the river.”
“Maybe she was working with someone else, and they decided they didn’t need her anymore and didn’t want any loose ends?”
“It’s a lot of people to kill without someone giving you some kind of assistance. A lot of geography to cover.”
Ava took some photos with her cell. Then she squinted at the crosses on the victims’ side.
“There are only fourteen victim crosses.”
“What?” asked Dominic.
“Fourteen crosses. You said there were fifteen victims…”
“We thought there were from the DNA profiles we found.”
“How many bodies did you recover?” asked Ava.
“Eight partial remains on top of the three bodies of the women that led us to believe we had a serial killer operating in the area in the first place.”
“So, conceivably, the FBI might have—”
“Accidentally labeled one of the women as a victim when she was actually a willing accomplice,” Dominic finished Ava’s thoughts.
They looked at one another. “We need to compare any new DNA profiles to those of Peter Galveston’s supposed victims.”
They stared at one another with the dawning knowledge that they were onto something. This was a new direction for the investigation to follow.
The bullet whizzed so close to the top of her head she felt the air move. It slammed into the garage behind her as the noise of the shot cracked through the air.
Dominic pushed her to the ground, and they rolled through the dirt, scrambling to find cover.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Keep down,” Dominic yelled. He ducked toward a slab of rock that stuck out on the left, grabbing Ava and taking her with him, trying to shelter her with his body.
The shot had come from the top of the ridge.
“See anyone?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“No. You?”
She shook her head.
They were pinned down in a gully, another bullet skimming overhead, proving the shooter was still there. “We can’t stay here.”
“Especially if there is more than one of them,” Ava agreed. “You go left, I’ll got right. Race you to the top?” Her eyes were alight, and there was a small smile on her lips.
“You look like you’re enjoying this, Kanas.”
Her grin got wider, but he realized it was forced. The way he smiled during a telephone call in order to influence the tone of his voice.
“No, but damned if I’ll show these bastards any fear.”
He grinned and kissed her quickly on the mouth. Another shot bounced off the stone above their heads. “Meet you at the top. Don’t get cocky.”
“I thought that was your department,” she teased, beautifully.
God. He hated the fact some asshole was shooting at her, shooting at them. He did not want her to die. But he couldn’t afford to think like that. She was a good agent. He didn’t intend to let her down by getting her killed.
“It will be, later,” he promised. “If we get out of this alive. Okay, together.” He counted down silently with his fingers. Three, two, one.
They burst in opposite directions, but the shooter must have anticipated the move. A series of shots came straight at Dominic, and they forced him to take cover behind a fat birch. He could hear Ava, deliberately making a lot of noise to try and draw the shooter’s attention.
He poked his head forward and back and was rewarded by a bullet in the wood a few inches from his face. They obviously viewed him as the greater threat, but then they hadn’t met Ava Kanas. Or—they wanted to finish what they’d started while they still had the chance. He checked his surroundings and grabbed his cell to call it in only to remember the lack of service.
He swore under his breath. Ava was a hundred yards away now. He did not want her facing this bastard alone. He eyed the distance to the next suitable tree trunk. If nothing else, he’d keep the shooter distracted.
He crouched low and bobbed and weaved to the next piece of cover. Bullets shredded the air around him. Shit. Cold, clammy sweat coated his temples. Dominic paused, panting, behind another tree. He was never gonna get up this goddamn mountain alive.
Then he remembered what he was good at.
“Hey,” he yelled. “We are FBI agents. We had a few questions for the owner of this cabin regarding Peter Galveston. We mean you no harm.”
The only answer was a bullet in the tree trunk, but that was okay. He was going to have to trust Ava to get the drop on this guy while he did whatever the hell was necessary to create a distraction.
“Put the gun down, and we can talk.”
Another shot. Maybe the guy was deaf. The issue was, even assuming the person firing the gun wasn’t on a psychotic break, it took time to influence someone’s behavior. You started with active listening, showed empathy to build rapport, and only then could you bend their will in line with yours. Bullets were hardly conducive to inducing empathy.
Another rule of negotiation was don’t lie to people, unless you were about to kill them. “We don’t want to hurt you. Tell me what’s going on? Why are you shooting at us? Put the gun down, and we can talk.”
He couldn’t hear Ava anymore. Shit. What if there was more than one of them? What if someone had a knife on her?
He closed his eyes and breathed slowly out. Negotiation could only get you so far. Dominic dodged to the next tree, but no shots were fired.
He darted up the hill off the path, using trees for cover, but still no more shots were fired. The bastard was either drawing him out for a clear shot. Or he had Ava and was waiting for him to arrive so he could kill her in front of him. Or he’d run.
The only sound now was that of his own breathing.
Where was she?
He crested the ridge, bracing for a bullet. Scanned the area. Ammunition casings were strewn in the grass. Then he heard the sounds of running and caught sight of a flash of a white shirt through the trees. Ava.
Dominic ran down the hill in the same direction but about two hundred feet parallel still along the top of the ridge. The desire to go to Ava was nearly overwhelming and had nothing to do with tactics or training. It was personal. He wanted to protect her. He wanted her safe. He fought the desire. He needed to trust she could do her job and although she might be a little reckless, she wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t have a death wish.
A shadow moved ahead of him in the woods. The shooter had cut left rather than right and was headed for the road. He probably had a car there. No fucking way was this guy getting away. Hell no.
Dominic was elevated above Ava and the UNSUB. The guy was wearing black including a ski mask. He’d dropped his rifle at some point and was running in a flat-out sprint toward the car. But Ava was faster, those long legs of hers eating up the ground. She was almost upon him when she tripped and the Glock went flying out of her hand.
The UNSUB realized what happened and stopped, walking back to where Ava lay panting on the ground. The UNSUB looked around but did not see Dominic high above him.
The man pulled out a handgun and aimed it at Ava as she desperately tried to lunge for her weapon.
Dominic put four bullets into the bastard, praying his aim was true and he didn’t hit the woman who had somehow snuck under all his defenses. At this distance and elevation, it was a possibility.
Ava covered her ears and curled into a ball, making herself as small as possible. When the UNSUB crashed to t
he ground, Dominic stopped firing. She rolled to her feet, grabbing her Glock before kicking the bad guy’s gun away from his uncurled fingers.
She stood there, holding her weapon on the guy as Dominic found a way down the short cliff.
“You see anyone else?” Dominic asked, glancing around a forest that seemed to echo with the sounds of gun shots and desperation.
Ava shook her head. Her nose was bleeding from where she’d gone down hard on her face. She ignored it and didn’t shift her stance over the prone man.
Dominic cuffed the guy and then felt for a pulse. He looked up at Ava’s pale features. “He’s dead.”
He pulled the ski mask up, revealing the man’s face.
It was Robin Elgin, the pastor from the church.
* * *
Ava spent hours being debriefed by other FBI agents about what had gone down in the woods. The most aggressive interrogation had been by the head of the task force looking into the FBI deaths, Mark Gross. Gross had gone at her like a bulldozer, less about the fact she’d almost died that afternoon, more about the fact she and Sheridan had been snooping around the house without a warrant.
She’d told him the truth. They’d been so close it had been a natural progression to visit the property where Galveston had committed the crimes and talk to the people who lived there now.
Neither of them had expected to find the crosses, or get involved in a shootout or for her to look down the barrel of a gun and expect to die any second.
“Are we done yet?” she asked after the man was silent for a good five minutes.
Gross looked up from his notes, but he didn’t fool her. The guy was wasting her time to piss her off. Good news. He’d succeeded.
“You can go. Try to remember you’re assigned to watch SSA Sheridan’s back, not investigate the deaths of the FBI agents.”
“Well, I could hardly let him go to the cabin alone, now could I?” she snapped back.
His eyes were hard as the glass beads she wore on her wrist. “I don’t expect to see you again, Agent Kanas.”
Cold & Deadly Page 25