Sky Like Bone: a serial killer thriller

by V. J. Chambers

  “How long did you talk?”

  “Probably a couple hours,” she said. “He was really interested in everything I had to say. He kept asking questions and he seemed really happy to talk about whatever I wanted to talk about. I guess maybe I should have realized that was a red flag or something.”

  “This was not your fault,” said Branigan. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting a nice guy is not a bad thing.”

  Everly nodded. “Right, but even when I started to feel really drunk, I didn’t make the connection that he must have been putting something in my drink.”

  McNamara nudged Reilly in the outer room as they watched. “She was drugged with the same substance that Hawk Marner used to drug his victims. The same stuff that was in their ice cream.”

  Reilly and Wren turned to him. “Huh,” said Reilly.

  “How easy is it for someone to find out what he used?” said Wren.

  “All of that information has been released,” said McNamara. “For a tenacious person, not hard at all.”

  Back in the room, Everly was still talking. “…told me that I was going to sleep and that I was never going to wake up.” Her voice cracked. “I was scared, and I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

  “So you fell asleep?” said Branigan.

  Everly nodded.

  “In his car? In the passenger seat?”

  “Yes,” said Everly. “But I did wake up, obviously, and when I did, I wasn’t in the car anymore.”

  “So, he’d moved you.”

  “He must have. I don’t remember, though. I was out in the woods, and he had his back to me. He was working on building a fire. There were these zip ties sitting out on the ground near me. He was going to tie me up, but he hadn’t yet. And then he turned around, and he saw that I was awake. And…” Everly paused here.

  “It’s all right,” said Branigan. “What did you do?”

  “It’s only that it’s hard to be sure, because it was like…” Everly sniffed. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it must be like those stories you hear about mothers who suddenly have all this strength and pick up cars to save their kids or something? Have you heard of that?”

  “Adrenaline?” said Branigan.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Because I shouldn’t have been able to do what I did, I don’t think. I jumped up and I, like, ran at him. And I knocked him down. And I hit him. I just kept hitting him. He was hitting me, too.” She pointed at her face. “But it was like I couldn’t feel it?”

  Branigan nodded encouragingly. “Sure, sure. Go on.”

  “And… I don’t know. I hit him and hit him and then he stopped moving. So, I got up, and I ran. I ran and ran until I came to the edge of the woods, and I was on the road, and I flagged down a car, and I said I needed to go to the police.”

  Reilly spoke to McNamara. “I’m guessing you guys sent people out to search the woods?”

  “Yeah,” said McNamara. “We didn’t find anything, of course, but we really can’t pinpoint exactly where all this went down either.”

  “Right,” said Wren.

  “I know this might not be anything,” said McNamara. “It could be an isolated incident. But I feel there are enough markers here to be concerned, so we wanted to bring you in right away.”

  “Thanks,” said Reilly. “Yeah, we can’t be too careful. Killers like to come here and play in the old stomping grounds of the killers who came before.”

  “You’ll let us know if you hear anything else,” said Wren.

  “Absolutely,” said McNamara.

  “Thanks for bringing us in,” said Reilly.

  “Sure,” said McNamara. “Hey, uh, Delacroix, you got anything that might help us find this guy?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Well, he’s probably early to mid-twenties. Early thirties at the oldest. Because he’s not going to fit in at a college party if he’s much older. He definitely planned this out, so that speaks to a certain sense of intelligence and a certain sense of entitlement. Everly is white, and so he’s probably white. He could be a college student as well, or he might have some kind of other job. Maybe he works somewhere that would make it easy for him to get the drugs to knock her out?”

  “Yeah, that all makes sense,” said McNamara.

  “That’s just off the top of my head,” said Wren. “If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “WHAT were you trying to tell me earlier?” said Reilly from the driver’s seat as they headed back to the office.

  She turned to him, heart leaping into her throat. Damn it.

  “Wren?” he said. “Is it bad? Is it about the house? Is it under contract?”

  “No, it’s…” She turned away from him and squared her shoulders. “I called Arnold Davis to ask about any news on Hawk.”

  “Oh, you did? Just randomly, after bringing him up last night, huh?” There was an edge to his voice.

  “Don’t be like that,” she said.

  “I’m not like anything.”

  “Hawk has a girlfriend,” she said. “It’s Deborah Nielson, who you might remember from when we were looking for the angel of death killer? You might remember how we went to her father’s house and I almost shot him to death?”

  “I remember.”

  “Anyway, I think it’s weird. I don’t know why he’s doing that.”

  “Uh, really? You don’t know why?”

  “No,” she said. “He could be planning something. He could be manipulating her into doing something, something big. It freaks me out. Davis says that we have to leave it alone, and I know that’s true, but I can’t help but be worried about it.”

  Reilly didn’t say anything.

  She hung her head. Damn it. He was going to be weird about it.

  Silence reigned for several more long moments.

  “Cai? Say something,” she finally came out with.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he said.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “There’s, um, there’s no reason to assume a man has really complex motives when it comes to interacting with a woman, Wren. I mean, I think you’re making it complicated for no reason.”

  “I’m not making it—”

  “Not for no reason, I guess, but maybe because you think that there’s no way he could possibly be into anyone who wasn’t you.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Maybe. Maybe, yeah. He’s made a really big deal about his obsession with me. It’s gone on for a very long time, and for him to—”

  “It’s not like he was sitting around saving himself for you while you were out of his life for years upon years,” said Reilly.

  “No, I…” The furrow in her brow deepened. “I guess not.”

  “You’re just… interested in preserving whatever twisted connection you have with him,” said Reilly.

  “What?”

  “No, sorry, I take that back.” He gripped the steering wheel, glowering at the road.

  “Too late,” she said. “If you didn’t think that, you wouldn’t have said it out loud.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not as if there’s not something to it, is there? I mean, why is Deborah Nielson agreeing to be his girlfriend? Why do women send naked pictures to serial killers in jail? What’s that all about, anyway?”

  “I am not one of those women.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t get a charge out of having some kind of power over him.”

  “Take that back.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I do.” But he didn’t. She could tell by his tone of voice.

  She stared forward, blinking, as if closing her eyelids over and over again was going to return sanity to her existence.

  “You know, I don’t mean to be one of those guys who complains that women only like assholes, but—”

  “I am with you, and we are buying a house together. You have no reason to be li
ke this. You always tell me you’re over it, but you’re never over it.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  She folded her arms over her chest. She was angry.

  The moments ticked on as they drove in silence.

  Her anger started to fade, and now she wasn’t angry. She was only hurt. She didn’t need this. It was painful enough to know that she’d been tricked by Hawk, and that he’d taken advantage of her. It was painful to think that a man who hurt little girls had touched her body, given her pleasure. That was a horrible thing for her to have to live with.

  And for Reilly to make it worse… well, she needed him to be better for her.

  “Do you think we should ask for the evidence they gathered from Everly Green to be sent to our lab?” said Reilly suddenly. “Trevon might like something to do.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Wren.

  “Eh, it’s like his third day,” said Reilly. “Maybe we let him get settled in. The Cardinal Falls lab can deal with it,” said Reilly. “And I can’t be over it.”

  “What?”

  “Over the you-and-Hawk thing,” said Reilly. “Because it’s part of us, Wren. It’s part of me. And it’s not just about Hawk, it’s about… everything.”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet.

  “You know, it’s not as if I haven’t been targeted like that, too,” said Reilly. “Brock had a unnatural obsession with me, and when I say that you enjoy having power over him, it’s because some part of me…”

  “You didn’t enjoy anything about that horrible man victimizing you.” Wren’s voice shook.

  “So, why is it that what I really want to do right now, what I think would fix everything, is for me to pull the car over and push you face down into the hood, spread eagle, and shove my—”

  “The hood would be too hot because the car’s been running,” she said. “But maybe I could run. Maybe you could chase me like—”

  “You’re into it,” he snapped.

  “You insist on making it about trauma. It doesn’t have to be—”

  “We only do it when we’re in the middle of cases,” he said. “Or when we’re fighting. And when I think about the shit we did to catch Slater, shit that is on camera—”

  “Stop,” she said, sighing.

  It was quiet again.

  “How long until we get back to the office?” she said.

  “I don’t know. Ten minutes, maybe,” he said.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and scooted over, reaching for him.

  “What are you doing?”

  She unzipped his jeans and eased a hand inside.

  He stiffened at her touch. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Shh,” she said. “Just relax.”

  “You know, as a police officer, I should tell you that doing this is technically driving while impaired.” But his voice was affected and deep, and she could tell he wasn’t going to stop her.

  She freed him, planting a kiss on the head of his erection. “You can handle it, can’t you?” she breathed.

  He groaned.

  She reached up and seized one of his hands, pulling it off the steering wheel and guiding it to her head.

  He sucked in another sharp breath, and then he tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged.

  She gasped, her entire body clenching in a hot flood of pain and need and excitement.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOU guys didn’t get coffee while you were out?” said Clive Krieger. He was an FBI agent who was taking a breather out here at the facility. They’d met him a few weeks ago, and they sometimes ran into him. Mostly, they seemed to discuss coffee. Clive seemed to always be nipping out to get Starbucks.

  “Uh, we got distracted,” said Reilly, pouring himself coffee from the pot in the lobby.

  Wren smirked but hid it from Krieger. She already had poured herself coffee, and now she was surveying the assortment of flavored creamers. She was thinking about mixing the amaretto with the chocolate.

  “Must have been some kind of distraction for you guys to be drinking drip coffee,” said Krieger.

  “This coffee isn’t bad,” said Wren, selecting the creamers.

  “It’s not great coffee,” said Reilly, “but we don’t mind drinking it.” He nodded at Krieger. “I don’t see a Starbucks cup in your hand.”

  “Yeah, I’m convincing myself not to drive again today,” said Krieger. “Save gasoline, save the planet, less stress sitting at stoplights, you know, all that?”

  Wren and Reilly exchanged a glance and then both shrugged.

  “Coffee’s worth it,” said Wren.

  “Coffee is life,” said Reilly.

  Krieger laughed. “What are you guys working on right now?”

  “Honestly, a whole lot of nothing,” said Reilly.

  “Cai, we just got called in on something this morning,” said Wren, laughing.

  “Oh, right,” said Reilly. He shrugged at Krieger. “That’s nothing, though. It could become something, but currently, it’s nothing.” He turned to Wren. “I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No bodies or anything,” said Wren.

  “Well, this thing I been working on for six months,” said Krieger. “I don’t have any bodies there, either.”

  “What have you been working on?” said Wren.

  Krieger groaned. He pushed past them to the coffee pot. “You sure you want me to get started on this? I get started on this and then people end up running away screaming, like, ‘Shut up, we’re bored with your crazy obsession.’”

  “Now, I’m really curious,” said Wren, grinning.

  “Me too,” said Reilly.

  Krieger emptied the coffee pot into a cup. “Well, it started about a year back when a local police department out in northern California gets a call from a woman, who’s hysterical and saying that she’s in danger, that someone’s going to kill her, and then—boom. Cuts off.”

  “Did they trace the call?” said Reilly.

  “Yeah,” said Krieger. “They traced it to a, um, I don’t want to call it a homeless shelter, because that’s not exactly right, but it’s a sort of outreach facility, called Love Over Want.”

  “Weird,” said Wren. “That sounds decidedly cult-like.”

  “Doesn’t it just,” said Krieger, shaking his head, uttering a low, ironic chuckle. “Believe me, I’ve been out there for six months now, just trying to get in to the underbelly of that place, and… either there’s no underbelly or I’m never going to break in.”

  “There are no bodies, so I’m guessing the woman who made the call was never found?”

  “Nope,” said Krieger. “But she told her friends and family she’d be staying longterm with the Love Over Want folks, doing some kind of extended charity work or something. So, she wasn’t trying to hide that was where she was going to be. And she’s not the only person who’s claimed that they’re going to be working with Love Over Want and then disappears. I’d say that there are ten, maybe twelve, people.”

  “Wow,” said Wren. “You’ve been there six months? Have you seen people disappear?”

  “Two couples,” said Krieger. “Four people. And they all got chummy with a guy who’s on staff there. Now, I don’t know if he’s skimming these people off for his own sick games or if it’s connected to the organization. I originally went in because of the cult angle, but if it’s just a sick guy, you know, that’s not really my jurisdiction anymore. I’m probably going to get pulled off it.”

  “Is that what you want?” said Reilly. “It’s obviously stressing you out, or you wouldn’t be here, enjoying the FBI retreat facility.”

  Krieger drank his coffee. “Well, you know, it’s not as if the kind of person who’s drawn to a job at the FBI isn’t typically a little Type-A, perfectionist, and obsessive? I, uh, if they pull me from that thing before I solve it, I will lose my mind.”

  Wren and Reilly both laughed.

  Krieger laughed too, but then his laughter died off. “I’m seriou
s. I dream about it, you know? I’m supposed to be here, taking a break, getting some perspective, but I can’t think about anything else. I know I won’t be able to stop until I figure it out. I asked if I could have someone else, a woman agent to come with me and pose as a girlfriend or something, because it’s couples that seem to disappear. I mean, the woman who called, she wasn’t part of a couple, but most of them are. I don’t think I’m going to get in unless I’m in a couple. But they won’t authorize it, and I’m out here, spinning my wheels.” He sighed. Then he took a drink of his coffee.

  “Couples,” said Wren. “How strange.”

  “Yeah, what’s that about?” said Reilly.

  “Well, I don’t know a lot about cults,” said Wren, “but typically cults aren’t deadly. The cult leader likes having a bunch of live people to order around. The more people under his control, the more powerful he feels. Sometimes, the ultimate expression of power is forcing a mass suicide, but usually the cult leader kills himself too. So, if these couples are really being pulled in as part of a cult, then they might be alive somewhere. Maybe that’s why there aren’t any bodies.”

  “If there are live people I can save, that only makes me want to solve it more,” said Krieger. “I gotta get back out there.” He took another drink of coffee.

  “Hey, you’re going to solve it,” said Reilly.

  “Definitely,” said Wren. “If you want to bounce ideas off of us anytime, let us know.”

  “I might take you up on that,” said Krieger, smiling at them. “Thanks.”

  WREN collapsed on the floor. She lay flat on her back amidst the packed boxes that currently crowded her living room. She was sweaty and tired and sick of packing. She gazed at the ceiling, grimacing, thinking that she hadn’t even touched the bathroom and that she’d hoped to get to that today, but wondering where she’d find the energy.

  Her phone started to ring.

  Grunting, she rolled over onto her belly and half-crawled, half-slithered over to where it was sitting on an end table near the couch. She picked it up without looking at it and answered.

  “You have a collect call from an inmate at the Eastern Regional Correctional Center,” said a robot voice on the other end. “Do you accept the charges?”