by David Archer
Melanie expressed no regret, but she didn't push her luck, either.
Sam leveled a serious but not quite angry stare at the duo. "Both of you, sit down here where I can keep an eye on you."
Eric quickly slid down the sofa-like seat, stopping about a foot and a half away from Darren. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
Sam looked at Melanie expectantly.
Everyone looked at Melanie expectantly, though some were more discreet than others.
Melanie smirked. "No." She pulled her feet up onto the seat and made herself comfortable. "I like it here."
Sam looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded. He closed his file and got to his feet, perfectly calm as he ordered, "Everyone, move to this end, please."
Melanie blew her hair out of her eyes, irritated at worst. "I'll just move again."
"No, you won't." Sam sat down next to her, waiting patiently for everyone else to make their way down.
Darren stayed where he was—he had been in the middle of the jet to begin with—and gave Eric's arm a reassuring squeeze; a silent reminder that Sam was fair and kind and wasn't going to hurt one of the very few friends Eric had.
"Melanie," Sam said the word, one arm stretched across her middle and pushing her back into the seat she was trying to leave. "Do I need to get the handcuffs? Because I will."
Melanie glared viciously but stopped trying to stand up, folding her arms over her chest.
Sam wasn't satisfied. "Do I need to get handcuffs, Miss Melanie?" He stared her down, demanding a verbal response.
"No," she snapped.
"Good." Sam nodded his acceptance of the reply. "Now, if we could focus on the case, I'm certain Mary Campbell would appreciate it."
Summer cleared her throat to break the layer of awkwardness that had formed over those who could only sit back and observe the battle of wills. "Right. Once we land, we're going to meet with Sheriff John Fordham. They have been gathering the friends and family of all three victims, so we'll need to interview them. They already processed the crime scene, but they left it otherwise untouched for us."
Sam gestured to Denny before the last word left Summer's lips. "You and Eric go to the last abduction site and see if anything points to his MO; Miller and Summer, interview the friends and family members; Darren, look into the women's lives outside of social media. He could be locating them online but contacting them in some way that won't show up on their pages."
Darren nodded in response to the order, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was analyzing Melanie—her body language and micro-expressions—and replaying the encoded exchange in his mind. Most of it still made no sense to him, but he thought he might have been piecing together part of it.
"Coffee?"
"Straight."
Darren had a theory. He was almost positive Eric told Melanie that the team, namely Sam, was straightforward. Eric could have said 'black,' and as far as coffee went, it would have meant the same thing. Straight had other connotations—be straight with me, give it to me straight, straight up now tell me are you really gonna love me forever, and so on.
Sam was definitely straight coffee.
No sugar-coated words, no mixing in cream to disguise the bitter darkness. Only truth, regardless of how hard it was to swallow, and a clear set of standards and expectations. With Sam, the phrase 'what you see is what you get' had never been more accurate.
Unfortunately, Sam was too involved in the case to notice the way Melanie scrutinized him while he wasn't looking, trying to figure out where her boundaries were. She wouldn't know how straight Sam really was until she had claims to compare his actions with.
So, Darren lent a helping hand, because he was nice like that.
"What about you and Melanie?"
Sam gave Darren an odd look, confused but willing to answer. "Melanie and I are going to take a walk and discuss some things." He frowned a bit, but he trusted Darren enough to cooperate without an explanation. "We'll join you at the station when we're done."
Darren nodded, as if the question had actually been for him, and turned his attention to the window. Better brace yourself, Jacksonville. You've got a storm coming.
* * *
Sam tacked the last picture on the evidence board and turned to check on Melanie. He found her clacking away on her keyboard, three monitors lined up in front of her, and he let himself relax a little.
Their talk had been brief, but Melanie appeared to get the message, and other than dirty looks and middle fingers she thought he couldn't see, she wasn't acting out.
"I don't want to send you back to North Forest Hospital, Melanie, but I will. I will call them from right here in Jacksonville, and you will be back on a plane in the time it takes to write up the return order. If you want to fight me, do it at Denver after the case is closed."
Sam wished he could give more leniency. He wished he could give her the same reassurance and understanding he gave Eric, but he couldn't afford that. If Melanie caused any problems on the case, and those problems got reported and found their way back to North Forest Hospital, Sam could lose both of them. North Forest Hospital was looking for a reason to keep Sam away from consultants, and Sam wasn't about to give them one.
Not to mention dealing with an abduction rather than a murder. Granted, Eric's first case had been similar, but that served as more of an example than anything. Sam did not want a repeat of the Lee Ramey case.
"Denny called from the Campbell house." Summer bustled into the room with an armful of files and stopped in front of the table. "They think the killer put up cameras. Some were placed to watch who was coming and going and when, but there were others in non-strategic places. One was in the bedroom."
Sam looked at the board briefly and then back at Summer. "Voyeur?"
Summer held up a finger and wagged it a bit. "Jade asked the same thing, but Eric pointed out that no voyeur would kidnap the focus of their obsession."
"It would take away the source of sexual release." Sam began to nod, lips drawn into a thin line. "He must be getting something else from the videos. Melanie." He was pleased to see her looking up responsively. "I want you to look into illegal video sites and see what you can find."
"Got it." Melanie looked back to her machines, fingers flying from key to key, eyes scanning a mess of code that looked like gibberish to Sam. "That's gonna take a few minutes."
"I understand." Sam frowned at the tabletop, his mind briefly wandering to their secondary case. Melanie isn't like Eric. She has field experience, so her behavior in this setting is learned. Investigating her while she worked could potentially give him insight into North Forest Hospital he couldn't get from Eric. What sort of training do they give consultants before sending them into the field?
"Seriously, it's gonna take a little time."
Sam pulled himself from his thoughts and looked down the table to Melanie. "I really do understand. I'm just thinking." He turned his attention to Summer then. "Do we have any other leads at all? Did the family give any helpful information?"
Summer let out a quiet sigh and shook her head. "Mary Campbell's boyfriend noticed some pictures were out of order, and that's how we found the cameras, but other than that… it's just the same thing we heard from the detective. Everything about the victims' lives revolved around their social media presence—one of the victims used it to promote herself because she worked in real estate. She saw it as a job opportunity."
Sam turned around to look at the evidence boards again, thinking perhaps he could rearrange the information and make something pop out as a result. He no doubt uses the cameras to get inside, but we still don't know how he picks his victims, and we don't know how he gets into the house to plant the first camera. Maybe…
"I was thinking—" Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, Summer shouted in surprise, and Darren continued as if there had been no reaction to him suddenly entering the room, "—about how he's getting inside to plant that first camera, and I had a thought."
Sa
m discreetly pressed a hand to his chest to soothe his pounding heart. "Well, are you going to share?"
"What if he's some kind of salesman?" Darren had his hands in his pockets, elbows flapping a bit while he spoke; Sam was positive it was Darren's arms trying to obey their Italian blood with his hands unavailable. "If he's tech savvy enough for these mini cameras or video streaming, he's tech savvy enough to make official-looking decals and business cards. He offers to demonstrate whatever it is he's selling, and once he's inside, all he has to do ask for a drink, and it's guaranteed the victim will be out of the room for a couple minutes."
Summer pursed her lips a bit. "Okay, but what would all three of these women be willing to hear a sales pitch on? And does this make his victimology random?"
Sam tilted his head a bit and considered the possibility. "It could be why there's no physical similarities between the victims."
"Hey, sir Sam!" Melanie waved him over without looking up from her screens. "I have something. Well, I have a couple somethings. First, I found one of the videos."
Sam, Summer, and Darren had gathered around the computers while Melanie was speaking, and it was Darren who asked the question on everyone's mind.
"If he posted it on the web, can't you track that back to him?"
"Most of the time, yes." Melanie drummed her fingers unhappily, and Sam made a mental note to get her fidget toys. "Most of the time, give me seventeen seconds, and I'll have the network he's using, the physical address of the modem, embarrassing yearbook pictures—whatever you need—and presto change-o, no more bad guy, but this bad guy is a creepy computer aficionado." She turned around her chair a bit, trying to figure out who to look at. "You guys know what a proxy server is?"
Sam was fairly certain he did. "It's an internet relay."
"Bingo." Melanie fired a finger gun at him, sound effects included, and then faced her beloved screens again. "Having two or three of these is more than enough, but this piece of work is using thirty-nine. He is bouncing off Russia, North Korea, China, the Ukraine, Uzbe—"
"Melanie," Sam interrupted as gently as he could. "Can you track him back to Jacksonville?”
Melanie gave him a look. "Duh. I can do anything." She bit her lip then, confidence fading. "But it isn't a quick process, and I don't know if we have that kind of time. I already have a couple programs running, but I don't have the bandwidth I need to run many more. I mean, I can, but then everything will move a lot slower."
Sam and Darren made eye contact, experiencing the same 'eureka' moment.
"He has to be selling some kind of internet service or computer hardware." Sam nodded his head toward the computers. "He targets people who are very active on the internet, and to get in the house, he uses the appeal of a faster network."
Melanie pursed her lips. "Yes. That would've gotten you in my house pretty quick. My internet sucked."
Sam was curious to know more about her house—it occurred to him that he had never checked her file to see how old she was when she was admitted—but it wasn't exactly a good time. He tucked the tidbit away for later.
"I'll talk to Detective Fordham." Summer pulled her phone from her pocket, already walking away from the group. "Maybe he can help us find companies to look into."
Sam nodded his approval and looked back at the computers, pointing to the screen. "Melanie, play the video. We need to see what he posted."
"Yeah, just lemme…"
Melanie clicked the appropriate button, and then they watched. Sam and Darren were, of course, paying attention to the killer. Melanie, on the other hand—
"Oh, please don't hurt that doggie." She chewed on her nails nervously and let out a huge sigh of relief when Bruno was sent outside. "Oh, good."
Sam couldn't help but smile a bit, though it quickly faded as he watched the killer walk up the steps.
"He acknowledges the camera," Darren commented under his breath.
Sam squinted a bit as the video continued. "This one must be on his shirt or hat. He wants to be able to relive this from his own point of view."
"Why does he want to relive a kidnapping?" Melanie whispered.
Sam wasn't given time to answer, the killer grabbing Mary by the throat before he could even open his mouth.
Melanie screwed her eyes shut and turned her head. "Someone tell me when this is over. Please."
Sam nodded absently, entirely focused on the murder and its execution. He's not even trying to keep her alive. He came to kill, but why take the bodies? He has the foota—
"Someone?" Melanie asked.
Sam realized his mistake—her eyes are closed, of course she didn't see me nod—just as Darren raised a hand to shield her face.
"Not quite yet," Darren mumbled, just as focused as Sam had been. "Look at him. He's tender with her. She means more to him dead than alive." He dropped his hand and lightly nudged Melanie on the arm. "You can look now."
Melanie blinked rapidly, shaken but unwilling to admit it, and she quickly wiped her eyes dry. She cleared her throat, shook her head, and slipped back into work mode.
"So, um, there's something else kinda ginormous and bad." Melanie pointed to the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. "See this line of code right here?"
Sam leaned on the table. "Yes."
"It's there because our Citizen of the Year set up a chat room. He streamed the video live." Melanie bit her lip and looked up at Sam. "I'm not a Psychopaths Anonymous clerk, but I'm pretty sure that's worse than posting it after the fact. Right?"
Darren snorted. "Right, kid."
"He wants an audience," Sam murmured.
But it was worse than that.
"He has fans. It's a concert, and the main event is murder."
TWENTY-ONE
Sam rubbed his eyes and turned away from the evidence boards, seeking out the nearby kitchen and, subsequently, coffee. He honestly didn't know how long he had been awake, but he was certain if he didn't get some sleep soon, he was going to start hallucinating. He could feel it.
"Sam!" Summer shouted across the room, storming up to him with Detective Fordham on her heels. "Someone leaked the information."
Sam inwardly cursed. That is the last thing we needed.
"Someone at the press conference began asking about 'facial symmetry,'" Fordham provided, clearly disgusted.
"It must have been one of your officers." It slipped out before Sam could catch or phrase it in a more diplomatic way. Fighting with the local authorities is also the last thing we need. He opened his mouth to smooth out his accusation, but he was interrupted.
"Sam!" It was Denny, and he didn't look happy. "He's posting another video."
Sam was across the room in a heartbeat, heading for Melanie's computers. "What do we see? Come on, determining markers, what do we see?"
"Uh, one-story cottage," Eric offered.
Fordham shook his head. "That could be anywhere."
"Is there a number on the house?" Denny hovered on Melanie's other side.
Summer shook her head. "It's too fast. He's already at the door."
"You creepy little punk," Melanie growled to herself. "He's using twice as many proxy servers, and I didn't have time to finish making the program I was gonna use to—"
"Melanie, is that the chatroom?" Miller sidled in next to Denny and pointed to the screen.
"Uh..." Melanie spared a brief glance at the monitor on her left. "Yes."
"He's completely changed his MO." Denny shook his head, his next sentence overlapping with Eric's. "It's way too early, there's too much light… what happened?"
Summer ran her hands through her hair, both exhausted and livid. "Someone asked the wrong question at the press conference."
Eric began scratching at his arm. "He's in the house."
Miller looked at the screen with a pained expression. "Come on, turn around, just turn around."
"She's gotta have knives in that kitchen. Maybe she can fend him off." That was what Denny said, but his voice didn't relay any
sense of hope.
Eric, ever the optimist, tried to offer a solution. "She has new appliances; can we track them through work orders?"
"It's too late; he'll be gone by then," Darren answered.
Sam recognized the resigned look on Darren's face, and he knew he was wearing the same one. Deep down, Sam knew the woman on the screen was as good as dead, but he still grasped at one last straw.
"Melanie, can you give us something?"
"I'm Stateside now." There was a tremble in her voice. "I—I'm almost to Florida, I just need more time."
Sam took one look at the tears in her eyes and knew it was pointless. "Melanie, you're not gonna make it." He tried to keep his voice soft.
"Yes, I will," she insisted. "I—I will."
Sam pushed aside any feelings he had regarding the situation and looked at the case with a cold, calculating eye. "Forget the killer. Can you run a trace on everybody in the chatroom?"
"I can't do both, okay? Let me do this."
"Melanie, tag the viewers." Sam really hoped she would take his next words seriously. "That's an order."
Melanie wasted no more than a moment slamming her fist down on the desk, and then her fingers were flying again, she was simply looking at a different screen. It was all numbers and code, black windows with red text, but it made sense to the girl with five colors in her hair.
No one said a word when the unknown victim stopped breathing, but Melanie's fingers didn't slow down even a little bit. Several seconds later, the video was done, and still Melanie didn't stop.
"Melanie." Sam leaned down so he could speak directly into her ear, the move silently ordering everyone else to get on with their business. "What are you doing?"
"I tagged the viewers, but it's not a thirty second process." She blinked rapidly, not taking her eyes off the screen. "It takes time to do a sweep and figure out who is watching from where on what servers. If they're smart, they'll be using proxy servers like the killer, and that's going to take some time to unravel, too."
Sam put a hand on Melanie's shoulder only to have it shrugged off.
"Get out of my space, suit." She couldn't get a single drop of genuine venom into her words.