“This is true. Deputy Wallace was only watching the front of her room.” Bree nodded. “Todd called. One of the deputies at the university found a surveillance tape at a building near Christian’s class. The tape shows Christian being forced into a Dodge Charger at gunpoint. The license plate is covered with mud, but Todd did confirm that Roger is the deceased father of Joe Marcus and that Roger had a 9mm Glock registered in his name. The bullets used to kill Brian were 9mm.”
“How was the fire started?” Matt asked.
“Someone broke into the unit below Alyssa’s, poured gasoline all over the beds, and set them on fire.” Bree gritted her teeth. “He did this after shooting Wallace. The motel security camera recorded the entire incident. The image is grainy, but the shooter-slash-arsonist was driving a Dodge Charger. Again, we can’t see the license plate, and his face is covered by a ski mask.”
“No one heard the shot?” Matt asked.
“Actually, several people did. But the motel’s proximity to the highway made them think it was a vehicle backfire.”
“He’s not being as careful or clever as he was with the first victims. This fire was bound to draw more attention than the other kidnappings. They were slick and quick. Is he losing control or getting overconfident?”
“Either way, we’d better hurry. Cross your fingers I can convince the judge.” Bree climbed into the driver’s seat of her SUV and dialed her phone. Matt stood next to the open vehicle door. He was thankful for the digital age as he listened to her lay out her case with the judge. With nerves on edge, Matt’s toe tapped on the asphalt. Bree didn’t fidget. Her entire body was still as she focused.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” She lowered her phone and pressed “End.” “He agreed. He’ll sign the warrant electronically.”
A process that used to take hours was reduced to thirty minutes.
Progress.
“Congratulations,” he said.
Bree exhaled. The relief in her voice made it sound as if she’d been holding her breath. “Though the judge did say I’d better be right.”
“You are,” Matt said.
“Let’s hope so. If I’m wrong, Christian is the one who will pay.” Exhaustion lines bracketed her mouth. “Time to serve that warrant.”
Matt checked his watch. It was after midnight. “Let’s roll.”
Forty-five minutes later, Matt secured the strap on a Kevlar vest with the word SHERIFF printed on the front and back. His body hummed with nerves as he remembered being shot on a similar nighttime operation three years before. He swallowed the memory and focused on the present. Serving warrants was dangerous. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Bree, Stella, and Todd stood in the street in front of Joe Marcus’s house. The driveway was empty. No plumber’s van. No Corolla.
Where is Joe?
They were not sneaking up on him. At the Harper house next door, Earl’s dog launched into another barking frenzy. Everyone within a square mile knew they were there.
The dog barked again, and Bree startled. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She wiped her sleeve across her face.
Two patrol vehicles parked on the shoulder of the road. Deputies Rogers and Oscar joined the group in the street. Bree brought them up to speed with a few sentences. “Joe Marcus is armed and dangerous. He’s already killed three people. This afternoon, he kidnapped a fourth victim at gunpoint.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s home,” Matt said.
“Get the battering ram.” Bree checked her own vest. “Deputy Oscar and Detective Dane, cover the back door. We don’t want him getting away.”
The two disappeared around the side of the house.
Rogers pulled the black metal ram, nicknamed the Enforcer, from his trunk. They moved down the driveway in the dark. Bree and Todd went to the front door and stood on opposite sides. Bree knocked hard. “Sheriff! Open the door. We have a search warrant!”
Silence ticked by for a full minute.
Bree knocked again and yelled louder. “This is the sheriff’s department. I need you to open the door now or we will force entry.”
When no one responded in several more minutes, she stood aside and waved Rogers forward. He swung the battering ram and breached the door in one practiced blow. They entered the dark house, flashlights and weapons pointed forward.
Bree flipped on the wall switch. Light flooded the foyer. The furniture was dark pine. The only modern element in the living room was the flat-screen TV and video game system.
The house was a three-bedroom, one-story. It didn’t take long to make sure Joe wasn’t home. Stella and Oscar came in the back door. Donning gloves, they split up and began their search.
“His Corolla is in the garage,” Stella said. “So, he’s probably driving the Charger.”
“Where is he?” Bree scanned the empty kitchen. Her face was strained. “There must be some sign of where he took Christian.”
“Sheriff?” Todd called from a doorway. “You need to see this.”
Bree walked down the short hall that led to the bedrooms. Matt followed close behind her.
“It looks like Joe is still living in his childhood bedroom.” Todd pointed into the largest bedroom. “The master is still full of his father’s stuff, like a shrine or something.” He led the way into a smaller bedroom. “But that’s not even the creepy part.”
The furniture looked like a teen’s bedroom set, with a matching twin bed, dresser, and desk. An office chair had been pulled up to the desk.
“First of all,” Todd said. “We found a prepaid cell phone in the drawer. It’s a super cheap model with no passcode protection. It’s the number on Sara’s phone labeled J. The last call on her call log. The second bit is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
Matt braced himself, and Bree stiffened.
Todd tapped the keyboard and woke the computer. The screen brightened to show a video of a young man tied to a chair. Brian. His hair was roughly shorn, and he’d been stripped down to his boxers. Off to the side, his clothes were folded in a pile on the floor of what looked like the Grey Lake Inn’s garage. The concrete was clean.
Grim-faced, Todd clicked “Play.”
Bree widened her stance, visibly bracing herself for what they all knew was coming.
Matt wanted to look away, but he didn’t.
On the screen, Joe Marcus strode into view. He stood in front of Brian, leaning his face close. “Not so pretty now, are you?”
“What are you doing, man?” Brian cried. Tears ran down his face. “We weren’t being serious. We didn’t mean anything.”
“You’re a prick.” Joe pulled a gun from his waistband. “An entitled little prick. You don’t care about anyone except yourself. I bet you don’t even know Sariah’s real name is Sara. You don’t really care about her, but you fucked her anyway, didn’t you?”
“I care about her.” Brian’s voice trembled with cold and fear. His skin was pale and puckered with goose bumps. Tears flowed from his red-rimmed eyes.
“It’s OK. She doesn’t care about you either. You fucked her because that’s what you do. She fucked you so she could steal your mother’s jewelry.”
Brian’s spine stiffened.
“You didn’t know that?” Joe shook his head. “You’re fucking stupid. You thought you were using her, but she was using you. Do you know how I know? Because the little bitch turned on me first. Really, you two are perfect for each other. Not that it matters. I’m going to kill her next.” Joe leveled the gun at Brian’s face. “Then I’m going to kill your three asshole friends.”
“No.” Brian recoiled, but he could only move his head.
“I’ve been thinking about killing pricks like you for ages.” Joe’s breathing quickened. His face flushed. “Guys like you have been treating me like shit my whole life.” He licked his lips. His eyes widened with excitement.
“No—” Brian cried.
Joe pulled the trigger. Brian’s head snapped back as the bullet hit him
in the cheek. A mist of blood hit the wall, and Brian slumped sideways. Joe’s brows dropped. He looked disappointed. He pulled the trigger again. The second bullet struck Brian’s forehead, but he was already dead. Not much happened beyond a spurt of blood.
Joe walked forward. With a disappointed frown, he nudged Brian’s foot with the toe of a boot. Brian was clearly dead. Joe took a knife from his pocket and cut his binds. Brian’s body collapsed onto the floor on its side. Joe rolled him onto his back. He paced next to the body, kicking it every couple of steps, as if the killing hadn’t been satisfying.
Setting the gun aside, he grabbed a hammer from the workbench. Rage lit his face as he raised it high and brought it down on Brian’s face. The result seemed to please him. He struck Brian’s face again and again. When he was finished, he and the room were covered in blood and gore, but his face was oddly calm.
He sat back on his heels. A satisfied smile split his face. He faced the camera. “Now that was payback.”
The video stopped. The room was silent. Matt’s stomach did a queasy roll. He’d seen some sick shit in his life, but that might be the worst yet.
“Look at this, Sheriff.” Stella stood in the open closet, with two open cardboard boxes at her feet. The boxes were labeled BRIAN and ELI. Inside each was a plastic bag of hair clippings. Under each bag of hair was a folded set of clothes.
“Why did he keep the clothes?” Matt asked. “Souvenirs?”
“Here’s why,” Todd said and pointed to the computer. In the middle of the screen was a picture of Joe wearing Brian’s clothes. “He killed them, but he also wanted to be them.”
The blood had drained from Bree’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a dry croak came out. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “We need to figure out where he took Christian. Have a couple of deputies run by the Grey Lake Inn and check the garage, but I seriously doubt he’ll go back there. The whole place is still covered in crime scene tape. Any ideas?”
Matt looked out the window. Behind the house, the ice on Grey Lake shimmered in the moonlight. “Every place he’s chosen so far has been on the lake.”
“Let’s go look at a map.” Bree turned on her heel and left the room. Matt followed her outside. She strode down the driveway to her SUV and climbed behind the wheel.
Earl’s dog exploded into more barking, and Bree jumped. She pressed a hand to her chest and breathed.
Matt stepped into the passenger seat. “You OK?”
“Yeah.” In the light of the dashboard computer, Bree’s face was colorless. She called up a map of Grey Lake. “Here’s the campground.” She pointed to the computer screen. “The boat ramp is here, and the Grey Lake Inn is over here.”
“And Joe’s house is all the way on the end of the lake. Miles from the other three locations.”
“Yes,” Bree said. “What’s in between?”
Matt scanned the map. “Not much.”
“Looks like acres and acres of wilderness.”
“Can you switch to a satellite image?” Matt asked.
Bree clicked an icon, and the screen changed to an aerial view. She scrolled along the edge of the lake. “There are some buildings on the waterfront, but I can’t tell what they are.”
“I know this property. It’s a farm.” Matt pointed.
“It’s too much acreage,” Bree said. “There has to be a way to narrow down the territory.”
Matt pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the owner of ABC Plumbing. A groggy voice answered the call. “Mr. Hoover?”
“Who the hell is this?” Hoover asked.
“Matt Flynn, sheriff’s investigator. We spoke earlier. I’m sorry to wake you, sir, but this is a matter of life or death. Has Joe Marcus worked on any jobs on Grey Lake? A place that would be empty but provide privacy, maybe some kind of vacant building.”
“We’ve been working on the Grey Lake Estates project. Everyone in the company worked there at some point last month. But some permit issues came up, so construction has halted, and the project has been delayed. Two model homes are built. We did the rough-in work, but none of the fixtures are in yet.” Mr. Hoover gave Matt an address.
“Thank you, sir.” Matt ended the call and plugged the address into the GPS on his phone. “A few miles from here, there are two empty, unfinished model houses where Joe has worked recently.”
Two more sheriff’s cars arrived as Bree jumped out of her SUV. She assigned the two new deputies to secure Joe Marcus’s house as a crime scene. “There’s going to be too much evidence to rush a search of the premises. We’ll find Christian, then worry about collecting evidence.”
Then she called her original team outside. “We have a lead on two possible places Joe might have taken Christian.” She gave everyone the addresses. “Todd, you take Oscar and Stella to the first house. Matt, Rogers, and I will check out house number two. We go in dark and silent. I don’t want to spook him into doing anything.”
Oscar and Rogers turned toward their patrol cars. Rogers tripped. His gait was unsteady. He was sweating and pale, looking almost feverish. Oscar grabbed his arm and asked, “You all right?”
“Fine. Leave me alone.” Rogers shook off his hand. The two deputies slid into their cars.
Stella and Todd did the same.
Matt walked to Bree’s SUV. Rounding the vehicle, he reached for the passenger door. Bree stood in the driveway, giving instructions for the two deputies remaining at Joe Marcus’s house.
She turned away from them and headed toward Matt. Something jingled, and the sound of heavy breathing approached. Behind her, Earl’s big dog raced up the driveway, aiming right for Bree. Matt’s heart lurched. He started around the vehicle, knowing he’d be too late. He could not outrun a dog. The animal would reach her before Matt, and she was a good fifteen feet from her SUV.
She’d never make it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Bree saw the dog approach in the corner of her eye. Her heartbeat sprinted, but her body froze.
“Don’t run!” Matt yelled.
But Bree couldn’t run. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even draw a breath. Her throat locked. Even screaming was impossible. Her feet were rooted to the ground as terror short-circuited her brain. All thought was blocked out by the dog’s breath, the jingle of its collar, the muscular rush of its lean body toward her. Time slowed.
It was barely thirty feet away.
Her own pulse muffled her hearing. Her vision tunneled.
Twenty feet.
Her eyes focused on the big dog’s head. Its mouth was open, its teeth shining.
“Shoot it!” someone yelled.
“I can’t!” another voice shouted.
But Bree could not respond. Her body tensed, bracing itself for the impact, for the pain, for the gush of hot blood.
The dog slowed, coming to a stop about ten feet away. The beast growled, lowered its head, and side-eyed Bree. The body was stiff. The ears had been cut. The remaining triangles of cartilage were pinned back to the animal’s head.
Bree still couldn’t move.
Someone jumped between Bree and the dog.
Matt.
The minute his big body was in front of her, Bree inhaled. Oxygen hit her lungs and kick-started her brain. Even though the dog was still loose and growling, she knew she was safe. Matt would handle the animal. Humiliation washed over her, mixing with the fear in a queasy cocktail of negativity.
Crouching, Matt turned sideways to the dog. He looked at the ground in front of him and talked to the dog in a high-pitched voice. “There’s a good boy.”
The dog’s posture softened, and it stopped growling and gave a whole-body shake.
“That’s it,” Matt said. “Shake off that tension.”
Stiff-legged and low-bodied, the dog craned its neck toward Matt and sniffed the air.
“Who’s a good boy?” Matt crooned.
The tip of the dog’s docked tail quivered. Matt slowly extended a hand, and the dog sn
iffed it. A minute later, Matt turned his hand over and scratched the dog behind the ears. The dog shifted its body and leaned on him.
Bree’s vision and hearing slowly returned to normal. A movement on the other side of the driveway caught her attention. Earl stood a few feet away from Matt. Earl’s arms were crossed over his chest, and his lips were twisted into an angry scowl. He was disappointed the dog hadn’t attacked her. Bree could see it in his face.
“Sorry about that. Don’t know how he got loose.” The lie glinted in Earl’s eyes. “Rufus! Gitcha ass over here.”
The dog cowered as Earl stalked closer and grabbed its collar. As he led it back toward his property, Rufus glanced at Matt over his shoulder, the dog’s expression defeated.
Bree’s knees were shaking so hard, she was afraid she’d fall down if she tried to walk. She gritted her teeth and forced her body to turn around.
Todd was a dozen feet away, his gun drawn, a what the hell? look on his face. He’d done what Bree should have done: prepared to eliminate a threat. No one wants to shoot a dog, but sometimes you didn’t have a choice.
Too embarrassed—and too shaken—to respond to Todd’s questioning expression, she walked toward her vehicle. She had a killer to catch. She’d better shake off this weak-kneed crap.
She was grateful that Oscar, Rogers, and Stella were in their vehicles at the time. Maybe they hadn’t seen. But Todd definitely had. Bree slid behind the wheel. Her hands trembled. It took her three tries to get the key in the ignition.
Matt climbed into the passenger seat. “Take a deep breath.”
“I don’t have time to take a deep breath. We’re trying to save someone tonight.”
“Earl let that dog loose on purpose.”
“I know.” She started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“The dog isn’t vicious. It’s afraid.”
“My actions—or lack thereof—weren’t rational.” Tasting bitterness, she punched the gas pedal. “Thank you. If you hadn’t intervened, I don’t know what would have happened.”
See Her Die Page 24