Killer Genius

by David Archer

  "Good luck, Tony."

  "You too, Mr. Prichard."

  Sam was opening his mouth to tell Tony to use his first name when the line went dead. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a long moment, shaking his head slowly.

  I wonder what Tony's IQ is. Tony may not have gotten access to a quality education—or if he had, he might not have taken to the learning style—but he was clearly intelligent. His coworkers all spoke highly of him, of his ability to learn quickly and retain information. Tony himself had shown a variety of knowledge—from the locksmithing he learned from his father to the detailed notes he had made about Cindy's condition—and he clearly had a photographic memory of some kind.

  In another life, if he had different parents or a different hometown… would he have been carted off by North Forest Hospital? Or is his intelligence largely practical and unable to influence his IQ?

  And if that was the case, how was that fair? How did it make sense that people with practical knowledge were somehow more trustworthy than those with special abilities in science and math? IQ really only measured one's ability to test well, and yet an IQ above 165 and a minor infraction of the law was all a judge needed to put you away in a place like North Forest Hospital.

  Sam rubbed his face. One crisis at a time. He opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the cool, evening air. Donaldson says we'll have files on Donny by the end of the week, but we already agreed we don't know how helpful that will be. She also said she will find a technology case by Monday—'If I have to start murdering people myself,' had been her exact words, according to Summer—and talking to the new kid will be helpful. Indie was looking for information about the patients Eric knew, and he was praying she would find something soon.

  But there were problems. Jenna had been out of the office during the call with Darren that had been overheard, and while that didn't rule out her admirers, Sam didn't think they were likely candidates. They didn't have any other leads with the mole, and North Forest Hospital still held all the aces as far as information went. Redacted, password-protected, restricted access, confidential… there was no end to the red tape protecting whatever North Forest Hospital was trying so hard to conceal.

  * * *

  "I don't know if this was a good idea, Sam."

  Sam looked up from his phone and met the uncertain eyes of one Jade Miller. He thought about telling her it was a little late to worry about it, but he didn’t bother.

  Jade couldn't read his thoughts, of course, so she continued. "I agree we need the information, but her record is a mess."

  Sam slipped his phone into his pocket with a grim nod. "I know. She's been quarantined several times for violent outbursts, and she seems to have a penchant for breaking as many rules as she can." But she was a lead.

  Jade didn't look up from the file in her hands. "I think she might have set a record, actually."

  "Hey," Darren cut in both conversationally and physically, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. "We knew going into this that we would have to juggle our current case and our North Forest Hospital case."

  Jade turned another page, her expression reserved. "It's not the two cases. I know we can handle that. I'm not sure whether or not we can handle her."

  Denny cleared his throat then, leaning back in his chair to peer around the cubicle wall. "Well, don't look now, but I think we're about to find out."

  Sam straightened up and stepped forward to meet the approaching group, stopping after three steps and waiting for them to close the rest of the distance.

  Melanie. She's older than Eric, but not by too much. There are one, two, three, four, five different colors in her hair. She's somewhat heavyset, and I wouldn't be surprised if she knew how to throw her weight around literally and figuratively. She has five people with her instead of two, and their body language tells a very different story than that of Eric's escorts.

  In short, Eric was a nuisance. Melanie was a problem.

  "You're Mr. Prichard?"

  Sam extended his hand in greeting, only entertaining pleasantries with the head of the group. "Yes, that's me."

  "Shaw. This is Melanie." The security guard handed over a keycard as well as an actual key, apparently for the handcuffs keeping Melanie's hands behind her back. "You should know how this works already. You take the handcuffs off at your own risk, and you call the number on the keycard when you're ready to send her back."

  Sam slipped the items into his pocket. "Thank you. We can take it from here."

  Shaw threw a hand in the air and gestured with his finger, almost twirling it in a circle, and the four other men dispersed. "Keep an eye on this one, Prichard. Don't leave her alone for a moment."

  "We won't." Sam held Shaw's stare for a moment or two, and then Shaw slowly turned and followed his men out of the room.

  Sam watched them leave, but as soon as they were through the glass doors, his attention was on the latest addition to his team. They stared at each other for a moment, neither blinking, neither smiling, and then Sam opened his mouth.

  "We—"

  "Let's get something straight here." Melanie narrowed her eyes, and there was nothing but hatred in those chocolate irises. "I'm not here for you, and I'm not here for your government. I'm not here to help anybody. I'm here to see Eric, and let me tell you something, asshole: I'm the one who keeps Eric safe. When I see him and he tells me everything you’ve done to him, you can expect me to explode. If he’s hurt, you can expect me to go off like an atomic bomb. Comprende?"

  Sam did not allow a smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, and he kept his tone as solemn and level as ever. He raised a brow ever-so-a bit and feigned extreme disinterest. "Understood," he said. “Now, if you would follow us to the conference…”

  "Melanie?"

  As soon as Eric's voice was heard, Melanie changed. Her body language and facial expressions shifted, probably much more than she realized, and her countenance immediately brightened.

  "Eric!" Hands still bound behind her back, she shot past Sam and ran into Eric's arms. "I missed you so much!"

  Eric wrapped his lanky arms around her, and neither of them appeared to mind that the hug was less than conventional. "I missed you, too. I wanted to write to you, but I knew…"

  "Hey!" Melanie smiled widely at him. "No talking about sad things. We're here now, right? Who needs letters when we can talk with our faces?" She tucked her chin over his shoulder and somehow, despite her lack of arms, squeezed him tight. "How have you been?"

  "I've been really, really good." Eric smiled back at her, just as wide and just as sincere.

  Melanie didn't buy it for a moment, but she smiled nonetheless. "That's great, Eric!"

  Sam was content to sit back and wait for them to get their greetings out, but it appeared Denny was a little unhappy about his friend being commandeered, and he approached the duo almost immediately.

  "So, Melanie—"

  "Shut up." She glared at him. "Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to my friend."

  Eric bit his lip and looked between the two of them.

  "Okay, well…" Denny frowned. "I was only going to suggest that we might all go sit down."

  She glared at him.

  "Okay, then." Denny took a deep breath and spoke as if restarting the talk. "So, Melanie, we're gon—"

  Melanie opened her mouth to reply, but Eric stopped her with a single, pleading look. Headstrong as she was, it looked like she wanted Eric to be happy above all else, and Sam knew that would quickly become a very useful tool.

  Sam joined the seemingly happy pair and opened the door to the conference room. "Melanie, I'm Sam Prichard. I'm the leader of this team,” he said as Eric helped lead her inside. “Denny Cortlandt is the one you’ve been giving attitude to, and these are Steve Beck, Walter Rawlins, Darren Beecher, Jade Miller, and Summer Raines."

  Melanie glared at each and every one of them in turn before turning sharp eyes back to Sam. "This isn't a me
et ’n' greet. Just tell me what you want me to do."

  Sam gestured to the conference room. "We'll brief you in here, but first…" He looked at Eric, his eyes expressing the importance of an honest answer. "Eric, I was told to remove the handcuffs at my own risk. If you trust Melanie, you can vouch for her, and I'll take them off."

  Eric smiled and nodded immediately. "I'll vouch for her, Mr. Prichard. She won't hurt anybody." His smile expanded a bit, and Sam felt a bit guilty.

  Melanie glared at Sam. She knew he was using her affection for Eric against her, and she was furious, but there wasn't anything she could do about it—not while Eric was still standing there.

  Sam offered a small smile, and then he pulled the handcuff key from his pocket. "Turn around, Miss Melanie."

  She glared for another second, but then she turned around and let him remove the cuffs. She withdrew her hands as soon as they were off, rubbing her wrists and turning back around.

  Sam extended a hand toward the conference table in a 'ladies first' gesture, and then he followed Melanie and Eric to where the rest of the team was waiting.

  So far, so good. We'll see how long it lasts.

  Melanie sat down warily, parking herself right next to Eric and holding onto him at all times. Her posture was defensive, her entire being dedicated to shielding Eric from the outside world, but there was still trepidation in her eyes.

  She doesn't understand fair treatment; doesn't understand trust.

  Melanie gripped Eric's arm almost possessively, sitting there at the table, keeping one eye on the open door.

  "Who are they?" Melanie asked, jerking her head in the direction of the screen.

  "These are victims from a string of disappearances in Jacksonville, Florida," Summer explained, grabbing the remote and pressing the necessary buttons to enlarge the three pictures. "Our kidnapper is using social media to make it look like the victims are on vacation, so they aren't being reported missing until two to three days after they're abducted. We believe he used those same social media accounts to learn the ins and outs of their lives."

  Denny idly toyed with a pen, tapping it against the tabletop. "It's a suburban area, so he wants privacy and space. He gets off on the control he has. These women aren't safe anywhere, not even in their own homes, and he loves showing them."

  Melanie's face twisted up. "Geez. What are you guys? Psychopaths Anonymous?"

  Jade answered that one. "We're actually private investigators. We work with the government and law enforcement agencies to get ahead of serial killers—or, in this case, serial abductors—and we try to get inside their heads so we can figure out what they're going to do next." She paused, a curious look entering her eyes. "Didn't they tell you what we needed you for?"

  "Psh. You're new at this kinda thing, aren't you?"

  Sam grabbed the opening as soon as he saw it. "Actually, yes, we are. Why don't you tell us about it?"

  Melanie looked at him, and he could almost tangibly see the walls going up. "Well, for starters, it's all need to know. So, what I need to know is what it is you want me to do, asshole."

  Sam opened his file to take a look at the remaining information, shaking his head. "Eric says you’re good with a computer. That’s what we need you to do."

  Melanie squinted, looking at him as if she couldn't tell whether he was joking or stupid. "Okay, so why am I here?"

  Summer picked up a laptop case that was sitting on the floor and handed it to Melanie. She looked at it for a long moment, then turned her eyes up to Sam.

  "You realize I could destroy your network right under your noses and you couldn’t do anything to stop me." Melanie narrowed her eyes a bit, but Sam didn't see any anger, only distrust. "They only let me use computers with a half dozen people watching over my shoulder."

  Sam stood up and took the closed laptop from the center of the table, pushing it until it was right at the edge, less than five feet away from her. "I truly believe you can do what you say you can. I'm giving you a chance to do something better." He tapped the closed device. "So, tell me, Miss Melanie: if I give you this, and I tell you how to use it to help us catch a psychopath, will you help or will you destroy our network?"

  She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed a bit. "I'm a psychopath. Why would I help you catch one?"

  Sam couldn't contain the burst of quiet laughter. "No, you're not." He gestured to the laptop and looked at her again, leaning on the table, gaze unwavering. "So, what will it be?"

  Melanie looked at the laptop for a long moment, and then she looked back at the women on the screen. She tilted her head a bit, and she must have imagined something terrible, because her eyes began to tear up a bit.

  Melanie blinked rapidly and sniffed to clear her sinuses. "Yeah, okay. I'll help."

  Sam smiled at her. "Thank you."

  Melanie shrugged, outwardly indifferent. "It's not like I have a choice. I either help, or I go back to that damned hospital."

  Sam chose not to comment, instead sitting back down, and handed the floor over to Summer.

  Summer rolled her chair back a bit and turned toward the screen. "This is Mary Campbell, the third woman to go missing in Jacksonville, Florida in the last year. She had an in-home security system, but the key code was put in, and her German Shepherd has gone missing."

  Sam flipped through the first couple sheets of his folder. "What do we know about his MO?"

  "Well, that's why we're being called in." Summer shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "The abduction sites are absolutely pristine. No DNA except the victims, no signs of a struggle…"

  Denny nodded a few times, rubbing his chin. "No forced entry, either, and you said they aren't reported missing for a couple days."

  "Is this where I come in?" Melanie was sitting on one of the chairs, cross-legged like Eric, and turning the seat from side to side. "You want me to figure out how he hacked their accounts?"

  "That's part of it, yes." Sam looked up from his files and made eye contact. "We would also like you to look into the accounts themselves and figure out if there are any venues they all visited on a regular basis—somewhere he could have come into contact with each of them repeatedly." Sam watched her face as he gave the instructions, and he could see a little spark in the darkest shade of brown in her eyes.

  She wasn't used to being given clear orders; it looked like she had been expecting a 'work some magic' with no further details and unfair expectations.

  She wasn't used to respect; she didn't think she would hear 'we would like you to' come from the mouth of anyone.

  "I can do that." She looked at Eric, saw his smile and nod, and continued. "I could also tell you where the updates are being posted from. Every time you put a picture on Facebook, the exact coordinates get posted, too. It's a great tool for stalkers…" She trailed for a moment and then came back. "If I have the bandwidth, I can try and run a facial recognition software to see if someone shows up in pictures on all the accounts, but that's not a great first move."

  Sam smiled warmly—he knew the rest of his team did the same—and nodded his permission. "If you think that will work, you can try it. Just keep me posted on what you do or don't find."

  Melanie gave him a long, hard stare, and then she offered a tiny, almost invisible nod.

  Sam nodded in return and closed his file. "We don't know how long he's keeping them, and that means we don't know how much time Mary Campbell has left. We’ll be leaving for Jacksonville in an hour." He tapped his file on the table and went to leave but stopped in the doorway to flash a final smile. "And Melanie?"

  She looked at him, cautious, eyes scanning him relentlessly.

  "It's good to have you with us."

  With that, Sam left the conference room behind and returned to his office, hoping he could make quick work of some overdue reports that needed submitting.

  Well, I have two patients in my care, and the world didn't burst into flames.

  Yet.

  TWENTY


  "Can someone please explain to me the appeal of these sites?" Darren squinted at the paper in his hands and read the status updates aloud. "'Having sushi for dinner. Yum!' 'Boss is keeping me late at work. Grr.' I mean, whose life is so important that we would be interested in this kind of detail?"

  Denny chuckled. "I mean, I don't know, I guess that's the running joke." He gave a shrug. "No one's life is that important, but we'd all like to believe there's a group of people out there who care about all those little details."

  Darren just looked back at the papers with a scowl. "I don't even care about these kinds of details in my own life, let alone someone else's."

  Eric chuckled, which drew Darren's attention toward the far end of the plane. It appeared Eric found the interaction funny, if the lingering smile was any indication, but Melanie was switching between glaring at the team and looking at Eric with concern on her face.

  "Light?" she asked quietly, almost in a whisper.

  "Yellow," was the seamless reply, equally quiet.

  "Coffee?"

  "Straight."

  "Deaf?"

  "Maybe."

  "Snapback?"

  "Single."

  "Candy?"

  "Penny."

  Melanie nodded affirmatively and then went back to glaring, her eyes silently daring them to make her decipher the code. Darren was half-tempted to take her up on that dare, but he waited to see what Sam would do.

  "Melanie, Eric, you know you can't speak in code." Sam still had a file open in his lap, but his gaze was fixated on the other end of the plane.

  "Sorry, sir." Eric bowed his head a bit, a guilty expression crossing his face.

  Melanie looked Sam dead in the eye. "He's not yellow. He's green."

  Eric turned to her and, with a danger Darren did not often hear in his voice, growled his reply. "No, he really isn't."

  "Eric and Melanie!" Sam barked, openly displeased.

  Eric hung his head again, his anger fizzling out. "Yes, sir."