DRAINED

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Next, Carson pulled out an opaque plastic tub. He lifted the lid and inside were Art’s war medals and a ring.

  “Is that Art’s ring?” Brianna asked.

  Carson held it up and read the markings. “I don’t think so. It’s a school ring from a medical school.”

  “Shit,” Aaron said as he dialed a number on his phone. “Ramos, you got an extra tech free over there? Yeah, I need someone to bag and process what we’ve found over here. As quick as you can spare them. We have to be back at the precinct in thirty. Tell Jaylon I think our next victim has already been taken and it’s a doctor.”

  * * *

  It was creepy dark out here.

  The streetlights at each end of the block flickered dimly. The alley completely unlit.

  Kirk sat in the Caddy parked across the street from the old meat packing plant. According to what he’d found, the place had been sold when the owners moved the business to the stockyards section of Cleveland in the early nineteen-hundreds. Then a local market occupied the space for a while until the Depression hit in the nineteen-thirties. A few other businesses were in and out of it until the sixties hit and people moved out of the area. It lay abandoned for decades afterward. About three years ago, Armbruster purchased it.

  The windows in the place were either boarded up with plywood or blacked out with paint. The fence was old, rusted mesh steel and the landscaping looked like something out of a jungle movie not House Beautiful, that’s for sure. Everything about the place screamed “KEEP OUT!”

  So, why the hell was he sitting here actually contemplating checking the place out closer?

  Because he wanted to help, to do something to bring this guy hunting his fellow Clevelanders to justice. Because he wanted Paula and Stanley to be safe. Because he really wanted to be sure this was the guy’s killing spot before sending Aaron and his team storming in here. Yeah, he didn’t want to be wrong.

  Don’t be a wimp. Get it done and get out.

  Opening the Caddy’s door, he stepped out, pushed the lock button and closed it as quietly as he could. Standing perfectly still beside it, he listened. Didn’t hear anything resembling a chainsaw, so that had to be good. No eerie music. Only the sound of distant traffic and the blare of freight train horns.

  He inhaled and exhaled. Repeated.

  Okay, he’d seen enough horror movies to know he was about to do something too stupid to live, but he had a few things going for him. He wasn’t a blonde girl. He didn’t plan to actually go inside the place. And he’d keep his phone with him in case he needed to call for help.

  With a quick glance up both sides of the street, he dashed across the pothole-littered street and down the darker alley beside the fenced in property, further from the street and any passing traffic. No need in getting arrested by the police when he was trying to help them.

  He jiggled the fence. Pretty sturdy.

  Okay, he was going to have to hop it.

  Hands on the pipe at the top of the mesh he paused again to listen. This time for anything that sounded like a guard dog.

  Nothing.

  Taking a few steps back, he took a running hop and used the top of the fence to help him up and over, just like high jumping on the track team back in school. He landed softly, with bent knees on the other side. He remained squatting, calming his heartbeat and listening.

  No barking dog with huge teeth headed his way.

  No crazed man wielding a weapon.

  Slowly, he stood. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, then jogged across the small yard to the side of the brick building. His back pressed against the wall, he glanced to his left, then to his right. Nothing moved.

  Okay. That’s good. He’d made it here without anyone seeing him. Time to see what he could inside.

  Slowly, with his back still pressed against the bricks, he moved past one boarded up window, then a second. His target was the window painted black. Maybe there would be a sliver of space to peer inside.

  Finally reaching it, he stood just at the edge and took another deep breath. Music played inside. He strained to make it out. It was the kind rich people went to hear at the opera or nerdy kids who played violins learned for school productions.

  With his heart pounding in his ear, he leaned in closer. Like he thought, the paint was completely covering the glass. As if someone smeared it on in a hurry. I guess when you were busy planning how to kill people and drain out all their blood, doing a good paint job wasn’t a priority.

  He turned a little more and tried to see more of what was hiding inside.

  Squinting, to adjust to the bright lights inside, he could see the big white van to the left. To the right? A large metal door.

  Suddenly something struck him in the back. Lightning charged through him.

  His body spasmed.

  He couldn’t breathe as he fell to the ground.

  35

  So, you think he’s got a doctor as his next victim?” Captain Stedaman asked Aaron.

  Both search teams were gathered back in the Homicide Division’s conference room. Brianna sat between Aaron and Carson. In front of her lay two picture frames in evidence bags—one the picture of what they assumed was Armbruster’s mother, the other was a funeral program for her. It had been the last item they’d found in the secret hiding space. And a third bag held old typed medial reports.

  “The things we found in his stash all meant something to him and his victims,” Aaron said, holding up the bag with the violin inside. “This belonged to Mia Tanaka. Confirmed by Ms. Matthews.”

  He held up the next bag with the school sweatshirt in it, then passed it on to the captain. “Kyle Dandridge’s high school logo.”

  Then he lifted the first small bag. “Art’s Army medals. And then there’s this.” He handed the last bag to his boss. “It’s a medical school alumni ring. We checked and those are only given to people who graduated from this particular medical school. We’re assuming that if our guy has it, the doctor it belongs to is strapped to a table somewhere being drained of his blood.”

  “Don’t suppose there’s a doctor on the missing person’s list?” Stedaman asked, laying the bag back down with the others after studying the ring.

  Jaylon shook his head. “First thing we did when we saw the ring. No such luck.”

  “We’re working on the idea this was a doctor who hit hard times and living among the homeless like our other victims,” Aaron said.

  “Makes sense,” the captain said, folding his arms over his chest. “Have we checked with the local hospitals to find out if any of them had a doctor on staff who graduated from this school?”

  Again, Jaylon shook his head. “Not yet, but a few of them said they’d get back to us in the morning. You know what it’s like to get information on a Sunday, especially at nearly eleven at night.”

  Stedaman nodded then focused on Brianna. She sat up a little straighter. “What have you there Ms. Matthews?”

  “We found this framed picture on top of the credenza where Armbruster hid his treasures.” She pointed at the second bag in front of her. “The other is the funeral program from Armbruster’s mother. The techs found these medical reports in with it.”

  “The importance of it?”

  “It gives us motive.” Carson took up the story. “According to the first report, Armbruster’s mother was the rarest blood type and bled out due to a lack of the appropriate blood in the hospital.”

  “And the second?” Stedaman asked with one brow arched at the FBI profiler.

  “From the same hospital. Part of a chart from the Emergency Department on the same day as Armbruster’s mother’s death. Same blood type.”

  “Let me guess. He was homeless.”

  Everyone in the room nodded.

  “And the blood at the blood bank?” the captain asked.

  “Investigator Ramos and the techs took samples of all the blood they had in the labs,” Matt said.

  He’d elected to come with Jaylon back to the precinc
t instead of returning to the safehouse. Brianna could see both the frustration and excitement on all the men’s faces. Matt wasn’t going to be left out of the hunt when they were this close.

  “She told Jaylon she’d put a rush on them. The administrators weren’t too happy they’d have to close the lab to the local hospitals until the results are back.”

  “Okay, not much we can do tonight with Armbruster in the wind,” Stedaman said. “Any luck on finding his killing spot?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Still no idea.”

  “Okay, we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning,” the captain straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless someone finds the doctor’s body before then.”

  The group stood. Jaylon packed up the bags of evidence into a mailroom type basket as the others headed for the door.

  Suddenly Brianna’s phone rang.

  She stopped, pulled it out of her bag and read the caller ID. Her gaze flew to Aaron’s

  “Nana?” she said as she answered, putting it on speaker phone.

  “Sorry, to bother you, Brianna,” the elderly woman’s voice shook a little, “but I was wondering if my grandson was with you and Detective Jeffers? He was supposed to pick me up from bible study tonight and hasn’t show up yet.”

  * * *

  The opening strands of the old Heard It Through The Grapevine song startled Katie.

  Paula and Stanley had gone on to bed and she’d been sitting in the living room trying not to worry about the others, especially her husband. Putting down the magazine she’d been flipping through, mostly looking at the fashions the famous people were wearing and smiling when she knew her friend Sydney Castello had taken the photos, she reached for her phone and relaxed when she saw Matt’s picture on the caller ID.

  “Finally. Did you get him?” she asked without a hello.

  “No,” her husband sounded worried.

  “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”

  “Is Kirk F with you?” he asked, and her heart sank.

  “No. He left nearly an hour ago. He said he was going to get his Nana.”

  “Shit. She called Brianna. He never made it there.”

  “Katie,” she heard Aaron’s voice. Her husband must’ve put her on speaker phone. “Did Kirk F give you any clue where he might’ve gone?”

  “No,” she said, then her gaze fell on the chair he’d been sitting earlier. “Wait, he left his laptop here. I thought he was going to get his nana home then come back to keep working.”

  “So, he was still working on trying to locate the killer’s main crime scene?” Matt asked.

  “Yes,” she walked over and pulled the laptop onto her lap and opened it. “Dang it, he has a password on it.”

  “Try Nana Patrick, no space,” Aaron suggested.

  She did. “Nope.”

  “Castello?” Matt suggested.

  Again nothing. “No, that’s not it, either.”

  “Try LeBronCavs16,” Brianna said. “He told me that he’d been in the crowd that filled downtown Cleveland the year they won the championship.”

  Katie typed it in. “That’s it!”

  “Great, hon. Did he leave any URL’s open?”

  “OMG, like twenty,” she said, flipping through them.

  “What’s the one that opened?” Brianna asked.

  “It’s the Electric company’s usage files. How the hell did he get this?” she asked, studying it.

  “Same way my brother does,” Matt said, which meant it was probably not legal. “He learned a lot when Luke and Abby were in town.”

  “Okay, it looks like he was searching for the usage at a particular place on a Scranton Road,” she said, rattling off the numbers. “He had his phone with him, maybe we could check the GPS?”

  “I wish,” Matt said, his voice sounding like he was moving and he’d taken her off speaker. “But that would be something Luke or Abby could do and they’re out of communication while undercover.”

  “I know, but I need to do something. What if the killer got him? Why would he go there on his own?”

  “I don’t know why he went on his own, but we’ll find him. Babe, I have to go.”

  The phone went dead. She sat there staring at the open laptop, not really seeing anything, praying Kirk F was safe.

  “He went on his own, didn’t he?”

  Katie looked up to see Paula standing in the living room clutching Stanley to her chest, her eyes wide with concern for her new friend.

  “I’m afraid so,” she said and set the laptop aside.

  Paula came in and flopped down on the sofa, the pup wiggling down onto her lap. “Guys are so stupid. They do stuff without really thinking it through.”

  “I know. My sister-in-law Sami grew up with three older brothers. She has this saying about men.”

  “What is it? Guys are idiots?”

  Katie chuckled. “Almost. She says, Women have two X chromosomes. Men have one perfect X and one broken X that looks like a Y. So that explains anything men do. They’re broken.”

  Paula laughed so hard she started coughing.

  Katie went and got her some water. She handed it to her then sat on the sofa, pulling the huge afghan up over all three of them. “Why don’t we sit here and talk until they come home. I’ll tell you more of the stupid stuff the Edgars men have done.”

  “Does Sami have any more sayings?”

  Katie grinned. “She’s got a million. I did tell you she has three brothers, right?”

  They grew quiet for a minute.

  Then Paula spoke. “Kirk F better be okay, or his Nana is going to kill him.”

  36

  Damn, it’s cold.

  Slowly coming awake, Kirk tried to find the blanket. Shit. He couldn’t move his arms, only his fingers. He tried his legs. Feet moved, legs no more than an inch. Something held his body in place, too. Even his head felt like it was in a vice grip of some kind.

  What the fuck?

  “You might as well stop struggling,” a man’s voice, not too deep but definitely not a woman’s, said from his left.

  Praying he wouldn’t see a character from a horror movie, he opened his eyes.

  His stomach clenched and he fought the urge to barf.

  This was worse than a horror movie. This shit was real.

  There looking down at him was a very normal, very average face he’d seen on a driver’s license photo.

  Stephen Armbruster.

  “You’re probably wondering how I trapped you?”

  Kirk tried to speak. Nothing came out.

  “Oh, you won’t be able to talk for a while. It’s a wonderful medication that lets you be aware, but unable to say anything,” the crazy bastard said with a smile as if he were simply talking with a friend, not someone he’d somehow drugged and strapped to a table.

  “Anyways, back to how you ended up on my table. You were trespassing. It happens occasionally. Usually the state of disrepair keeps curiosity seekers at bay, but there are a few who ignore that little voice that warns them when coming close is a bad idea. My mother used to tell me when I was a boy that was God’s angel whispering to me to keep me safe.

  “You really should have listened to that voice. But you didn’t, so now you will be next in my queue, thanks to my little friend here,” he held up what at first looked like a gun, but there were bright yellow markings on the side and the word taser near the trigger. He chuckled and walked away.

  Damn. That’s why he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. The bastard had tased him.

  Next in my queue, he’d said. Next? Was there someone else strapped to a table?

  He looked to his right as far as he could with his head held in place. Nothing but concrete and brick walls. He swung his gaze to the left and saw him.

  On a hospital-type gurney lay a grey-haired white man. He had leather straps on his legs and body, probably what was holding him in place. Beside him sat a table about a half-a-foot lower than the gurney. The man’s arm was extended on
some kind of board and strapped in place. From it looked like a long red tube.

  Kirk realized it wasn’t a red tube, but a tube full of blood. Armbruster was draining his next victim.

  And when he was done? He’d be next.

  * * *

  “If something happened to that kid…” Aaron’s voice trailed off as he sped through the Cleveland night to the address.

  Brianna laid her hand over his and squeezed it hard, but kept her gaze out the window as they flew past other cars and buildings, the streetlamps acting like a macabre kaleidoscope of the fear rolling through them both.

  “Why the fuck would he go off by himself?”

  Aaron rarely cursed. A sure sign he was scared they’d find Kirk F dead.

  “How the hell am I going to tell Nana—”

  “Stop it,” Brianna said, swinging her gaze from the darkness to his face. “He’s only been missing an hour and you heard what Carson said about Armbruster’s obsession with how he kills.”

  “I heard. This guy likes to take his time. He wouldn’t kill Kirk F immediately,” he said, quoting what the profiler had told them as they raced to their cars. He’d gone with Captain Stedaman, while she and Aaron took their SUV and Jaylon teamed with Matt again.

  “He may be a little worse for wear, but we’ll find him. And he’ll be alive,” she said as emphatically as she could.

  Aaron glanced at her briefly before focusing on the road once more as they headed across the downtown area to a spot not too far from where they’d found Mia two days ago. “You really believe that?”

  “I have to. The opposite is unthinkably horrible.”

  This time he squeezed her hand.

  * * *

  They pulled in behind the burgundy Cadillac. To the right was the towpath and the Cuyahoga River beyond. Across the street to the left sat one apparently abandoned brick building with boarded up or blacked out windows.

  “This is the place,” he said as Jaylon and Matt parked right behind them. A third car pulled in behind him—Stedaman and Carson.