“Understood,” Santos said, and he ended the call. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” Porter asked.
“Two teenagers already found the body. They’ve uploaded cell phone video of the victim to the web. Quantico is trying to take it down.”
“That won’t matter. It will be downloaded a million times and posted everywhere before they can act,” Angela said.
“The local cops are already on the scene. The vic’s body was left beside a jogging trail,” Santos said.
“First Landing is covered with trails. There are two main entry points to the park, but he could have also come in by the water,” Penfield said.
“The video is a good thing. Count yourself lucky,” Angela said.
“Lucky? How the hell do you figure that?” Porter asked.
“Because now McMahon will get all the cooperation that he needs from the U.S. Attorney’s office. They’ll be desperate for you to wrap this up quickly,” Penfield said.
“Expect to have the other crime scene photos leaked to the press in the next twenty-four hours. I’m surprised you’ve kept it quiet for as long as you have,” Angela said.
“It’s the same thing that happened ten years ago,” Penfield said. “Some of the people who found the bodies gave all sorts of exclusives to the media. Everyone wanted their fifteen minutes of fame regardless of how grisly the situation was.”
“The turn is up ahead on the right,” Angela said as they drove down Shore Drive.
Less than a minute later, Porter turned into the entrance for First Landing. The paved road twisted and turned for another few minutes until they reached a gravel parking lot. As expected, it was filled with several white-and-blue vehicles from the Virginia Beach Police Department, along with an ambulance. The police had roped off the area but that hadn’t stopped a small group of people from sticking around to see if they could catch a glimpse of the woman without a face.
As they climbed out of Porter’s vehicle, Penfield saw a few people dressed in hiking clothes pull out their phones and start to record them. He did his best to keep his body between Angela and the crowd. Angela kept her head low and turned away from the cell phone cameras. She’d also pulled her long hair forward so that it covered the sides of her face.
Porter found a police officer who escorted them to the victim’s body.
“Brings back all sorts of fond memories, doesn’t it?” Penfield asked.
He remembered his last visit to the park a decade ago. It had been below freezing that day and he’d thought he would never be able to get warm again.
“Yeah, memories I wish I could somehow erase,” Angela said.
They were enveloped in darkness after leaving the well-lit parking lot. The dirt path they hiked went up and down as it followed the contours of the landscape. Penfield pointed his flashlight off the path and saw the massive Live Oak trees covered in Spanish moss. They were a well-known feature of the park, which also made it difficult to see deep into the woods. It would have been relatively easy for the killer to have moved around without anyone seeing him.
After a ten-minute walk, the officer took a smaller path to the left, which took them to an area even more densely covered with trees. Despite the powerful flashlight, Penfield still walked too close to a thin branch and it tore his cheek.
The dirt path twisted and turned for a few more minutes until they approached a group of officers huddled around the naked victim.
“Have you ID’d her yet?” Porter asked.
One of the officers turned to her.
“We’ve run her prints. It will take a bit for the results to come back.”
Penfield thought it was a wasted question. Marcus had already given them her name. The only question was which Abby Patton was this.
Penfield and Angela maneuvered around the police officers to get a better look at the body. She’d been placed on her back like the previous victim he’d seen. Her ankles were crossed, and her arms were extended away from her body. The letters MAI were carved into the flesh of her stomach. They were shorter cuts than before. They also looked shallower at first glance.
“Different cause of death to the killings ten years ago,” Angela said.
Penfield looked at the deep gash on the woman’s throat. As before, there was no sign of blood on or around the body. She’d been thoroughly cleaned to remove any of the killer’s DNA.
“It’s a definite inconsistency we’ve noticed before,” Penfield said.
“But it tells us a lot,” Angela said.
“How so?” Santos asked as he moved closer to them.
“Whoever is working with Marcus isn’t a true believer. The victims from ten years ago died by snakebite. It wasn’t a random method of execution that Marcus chose. There was purpose. There was meaning,” Angela said.
“Which was?” Santos asked.
“Did you ever go to Bible school, Agent Santos?” Angela asked.
“No, can’t say that I did.”
“The serpent tricked Adam and Eve and they were expelled from the Garden of Eden. It tested them and they failed. Marcus’ methods were no different. He put each of his victims to a test and none of them passed except one,” Angela said.
“But these new killings are different,” Penfield said.
Angela kneeled beside the dead woman.
“He slit her throat. Fast and efficient. No emotion behind it,” Angela said.
“No emotion? How can you say that? He used a knife. It was up close and personal,” Porter said as she approached.
“In most cases I would agree with you, Agent Porter, but not here. No, he would have strangled her if she’d meant something to him. She was nothing, though. Perhaps only an assignment,” Angela said.
“And a fast one at that,” Penfield said, and he kneeled beside Angela. “I believe you’ll find this woman hasn’t been missing very long. Perhaps only a day.”
“Why do you say that?” Porter asked.
“Because of the way in which her face was removed. Alex told me that the previous victims this time around looked like they’d been skinned by an artist, just like ten years ago. This one is much messier,” Angela said.
“Almost like another person had done it. Or more likely he was in a rush,” Penfield said.
“I think you’ll find that this Abby Patton lived nearby. He grabbed her, skinned her, and dropped her body here. Quick and messy,” Angela said.
“Look at this,” Penfield said, and he pointed to the ground underneath the victim’s head. “He placed a branch under her neck like before.”
“Something’s in her mouth,” Santos said.
Angela turned to Santos.
“Your gloves, Agent.”
Penfield expected Santos to argue the point. He didn’t. He reached into his pocket and removed a pair of latex gloves, which he handed to Angela. She slipped them on and opened the victim’s mouth.
“There’s definitely something in here,” Angela said.
She probed the woman’s mouth deeper and removed a plastic bag.
“Jesus,” Santos said, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking away.
Penfield looked inside the bag and saw a woman’s ring finger. There was a gold emerald ring still attached to it. He looked at the victim’s hands and saw she wasn’t missing any fingers.
Angela turned to Penfield.
“Jenna McMahon’s finger, I assume,” Angela said.
Penfield nodded.
“He offered us a new deal and we’ve rejected it so far,” Penfield said.
“Today is the end of the third day. Does this mean Jenna is dead?” Angela asked.
“I don’t think so. We’d be looking at her body now, not this woman’s,” Penfield said.
“You just said we rejected his deal, but we’ve rejected nothing. McMahon is trying to make it happen as we speak,” Porter said.
“Yes, but Marcus was a cop. He’s smart enough to know that McMahon isn’t calling the shots anymore, not wit
h his daughter being the one who was taken. Marcus is adding some insurance to make sure he gets what he wants,” Penfield said.
“Notice the coloring of the finger,” Angela said to Penfield.
He’d already noticed it. The flesh of the finger hadn’t turned a blueish hue yet. Jenna was still alive, at least she had been when her finger was taken.
Henry Atwater stared at the flickering flame of the candle. He felt his mind relaxing as he willed himself into a state somewhere between consciousness and the dream world. He gazed down at the photograph of Jenna McMahon that her mother had given him.
“Where are you? Show yourself to me.”
He stared at the flame again. He filled his lungs with air until his chest was about to burst. Then he slowly released it.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Atwater leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. A second later, the photo of Jenna fell out of his hand and floated to the carpet.
The old man’s eyes flared open. He looked toward the candle, but there was something smooth and white blocking it. Atwater gazed up and saw a figure standing in front of him. Its face was expressionless, but then its eyes opened and revealed two black orbs that shined like oil.
The figure extended one of its thin arms to Atwater. Its fingers bent toward its wrist, urging the old man to stand. Atwater struggled to his feet.
“What do you have to show me?”
The figure in white pointed to a door across the room. Atwater had lived in the house for decades, but that door had never been there before.
He walked across the room. He put his hand on the doorknob but then turned back to the figure. It was gone. He turned back to the door again and turned the knob. It opened to reveal a staircase leading down into the darkness. Atwater looked for a light switch, but there was nothing there.
He walked back to the table in front of his chair and picked up the metal candelabrum that held the burning candle. He carried it back to the staircase. He stood beside the top step for several seconds, but he couldn’t hear anything below.
Atwater took a tentative step down.
“Jenna, are you there?”
There was no reply.
He climbed down the rest of the staircase, the candle barely illuminating his path. He turned the corner when he reached the bottom and faced a black void.
“Jenna?”
Atwater stepped into the darkness. After several steps, he found himself completely disoriented. He turned in the direction he’d come, at least he thought it was that direction, but the staircase was gone.
Atwater then realized what the blackness was. He’d touched Jenna’s mind and felt her sense of helplessness and fear. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He tried to slow his racing heart.
“He won’t stop. You can’t make him stop,” a voice said in the darkness.
Atwater opened his eyes and saw a man standing twenty yards in front of him. He had his back to him.
“Who are you?” Atwater asked, but the man said nothing.
Atwater walked toward the man, and as he got closer, he realized the man was looking at something. Atwater walked around him and saw that the man was gazing at himself in a mirror. He couldn’t tell what the man looked like, though, for the mirror was shattered. He turned toward the man, but his face had no features, as if someone had erased every detail of it.
“What happened to you?” Atwater asked, but the man could no longer speak for he had no mouth.
Atwater winced from a sharp pain. He looked down and saw the melting candle had dropped hot wax onto the back of his hand. He quickly pushed the burning wax away. When he looked up again, the man and the mirror were gone.
Atwater turned in a slow circle. That’s when he saw her. He walked closer to the woman. She was seated on the ground with her knees pulled tightly into her chest.
“It’s all right, Jenna. We’ll find you.”
Atwater felt someone behind him. He turned around the saw the white figure from his living room looking back at him. This time, its expressionless face was gone. In its place was a mask of flesh. Atwater stared at the sagging skin that was pulling away from the head, threatening to slide off and drop to the floor.
“He won’t stop. I can’t make him stop,” a voice in the darkness said.
Atwater opened his eyes. He looked down at the candle and saw that most of it had burned away. The dripping wax had melted over the edges of the metal candelabrum and had dropped onto the wooden table. He turned and looked to the door in his living room, but it was gone, replaced by the unbroken wall that had always been there.
Atwater suddenly became aware that his hand was hurting. He looked at it and saw a red burn mark on the top. The vision had been real. Jenna McMahon was still alive.
30
The Field – Part 1
Penfield’s predictions came true within a few hours of their trip to First Landing. The Automated Fingerprint Identification System confirmed the victim was named Abby Patton. She had two arrests, both for prostitution. Her home address was located within a fifteen-minute drive from the state park.
Porter was able to reach Abby’s parents and learned she’d been missing for only one day. The abduction, murder, and disposal of Abby Patton’s body had been a rush job as they’d suspected.
There were two major developments in the case, at least in terms of public pressure on the FBI. The first was the publicity of the short but graphic video of Abby’s mutilated corpse. The story had been picked up by the international media and the Virginia governor had already released a statement, vowing that the perpetrator of the crime would be caught.
The second was another story that leaked to the press. This one was more personal. Unconfirmed sources had reported that the child of an FBI agent had been kidnapped by the serial killer. No names were offered, but that didn’t stop the media from running with it.
After leaving the crime scene, Penfield and Angela got a taxi ride to the Norfolk airport where Penfield had left his car a few days before. He retrieved it from long-term parking and drove them to the Richmond area to be closer to Central State. They got two rooms at a hotel near the I-95 interstate.
Angela went to her room immediately, stating that she wanted to call her son and get a few moments of peace.
Penfield went to his room. Their three days were almost up, and they were still no closer to finding Jenna. Penfield had brought his laptop into the room from his car. He powered it up and found an online map of the east coast. He looked at where each victim from this time around had been discovered, as well as the addresses for the additional prostitutes that the FBI believed were abducted by Marcus’ partner.
McMahon had told Penfield there was no pattern to the locations, but Penfield disagreed. Half of the locations were north of Virginia, while the other half were directly south. Sitting in the middle was Central State and Marcus Carter. Penfield thought it likely that the killer was staying somewhere close to the Richmond area.
Early the next morning, one of the crime scene photos of the victim discovered at the Settlers Landing winery was also leaked to the media. The photo was featured in over a dozen major online media sources before most people had eaten breakfast, although her skinless face had been covered by the various editors.
It fueled the public’s panic and the media’s insatiable desire for more gruesome details. Ten-year-old stories of the original MAI killer had also resurfaced during the night.
Penfield did his best not to be affected by the news. They were usually a dozen steps behind the police anyway. He would learn nothing by getting caught up in the firestorm. His one wish, at least as far as the media was concerned, was that no old photos of Angela would emerge.
After taking a long, hot shower and changing into fresh clothes, Penfield heard his phone ring. He walked back into the room and grabbed his phone from the small round table by the bed. He saw McMahon’s name on the display.
“Hey, it�
��s me. The FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s office have signed off on taking Marcus Carter out of Central State.”
“They bowed to the media pressure,” Penfield said.
“And I cashed in every chip I had, despite Granier’s best efforts to sideline me. Want to go along?”
Penfield thought McMahon’s mood was better than it should have been, which told him one thing. He hadn’t been updated on the discovery of a finger in the mouth of the victim at First Landing.
“They didn’t tell you, did they?” Penfield asked.
“Tell me what?”
“Porter and Santos. They asked me to let them break the news to you.”
“Alex, what the hell are you talking about?”
“There was another woman’s finger found at last night’s crime scene.”
McMahon said nothing.
“It had a gold emerald ring on it,” Penfield continued.
Penfield heard McMahon breathing on the other end of the phone, but he still didn’t respond. Then Penfield realized the reason the two agents hadn’t disclosed the discovery of Jenna’s finger. Any composure McMahon still had would have vanished and he would have been removed entirely from the case. They were protecting their boss.
“I’m sorry, Doug. I should have told you myself. I should have insisted on it.”
“Not a word of this to anyone. Are we clear?”
“Understood.”
“I’ll be at Central State in the next few hours. If you want to stay a part of this, meet me there,” McMahon said.
“What about Granier?”
“Granier can go fuck himself.”
McMahon ended the call before Penfield could respond. Penfield texted Angela about the plan. She responded within seconds.
Penfield slipped the phone back into his front pocket and packed the few items he’d removed from his bag. He then sat on a wooden chair by the window and looked outside. He had the feeling things were about to get worse.
Penfield and Angela met McMahon at Central State two hours later. Granier arrived with Porter and Santos shortly after that. They were accompanied by several other FBI agents that Penfield didn’t recognize. It looked like they were going to be backed up by a small army of law enforcement.
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