by Linzi Baxter
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think it was my place to know that?”
“How about we talk about this in the other room?” he asked.
I pushed my chair back from the table and headed into the living room. Jax mouthed “Sorry,” to Brandon, not me, as we passed him. I wanted to scream, cuss, and break something all at the same time.
“Answer the question,” I demanded.
He ran a hand through his thick dark-blond hair. “No… Yes… I don’t know. I wanted to tell you, but he isn’t someone I like to talk about, and it would open so many more questions I can’t answer.”
“Because of the case you are working on?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “It’s easy to hide behind the job as the reason you don’t tell someone something important.”
“That is not fair,” he ground out.
“Well, keeping a secret that your father was the one who murdered mine wasn’t fair, either. Honestly, it wouldn’t have made a difference to me if you would’ve just told me instead of keeping it a secret. Did you ever plan on telling me?”
“Yes, but not until the case is over. Last month was the first time I talked to my father in years, and more evidence came out. I want to have all of the facts before I tell you what I know… There are things going on with the case that I can’t talk about. Even though I want to tell you.”
“That’s why the serial killer targeted your partner. They know who you are and who your dad is.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think to mention the killer is coming after you because of your dad,” I bit out. “It’s not like we kept our relationship a secret. This person out there could be after me, and I know jack shit except they want some type of revenge on you.”
I didn’t even realize I was crying until Brandon reached up and wiped the tear from my face. “I’m going to tell you something, and it might make you madder.”
“What?”
“I’ve had detail on you since I found out the serial killer was after me. A cop stays stationed outside of your building at night when I’m not there, and they are also having people watching you while at work.”
It didn’t make me mad that he had protection on me. It made me feel like he cared. “I’m upset that you never told me about who your dad was.” I let out a sigh. “I know the man was a piece of shit, but I had the right to know. Except every time you went to see him, you kept his name quiet.”
Brandon pulled me into his arms. “I know.”
Carson walked into the living room. “I’m sorry, but we need to go.” From the grim look on his face, I knew it was terrible.
Brandon swore under his breath. “How? We still have another week before she takes her next victim.”
“I’m not sure, but it gets worse.” He turned the phone and it showed a picture of a woman who looked almost like me.
“Sasha’s coming with us.”
I held up my hands. “You said you have someone watching the house. I need time to go home and digest everything going on.”
“We need to leave.” Carson was growing impatient.
“Be safe. An officer is parked outside your house.” Brandon pressed his lips to mine before he turned and walked out the door to rescue a woman who could have been my twin.
14
Brandon
I paced the small conference room the FBI had taken over as their office. My emotions were all over the place every time I looked at the photo of the woman my aunt might have. The director of the FBI flew down the second he heard the serial killer had taken a victim sooner than planned. Until now, she’d struck like clockwork on the first of the month. Now the Houston police chief and the FBI director were weighing the pros and cons of releasing my aunt's picture. They worried it might send her into a tailspin. Anything could trigger a killer, and something must have, because she’d struck sooner than she was supposed to. In the last seven months, she had killed seven people—and that didn’t count the people she’d helped my mother murder years ago.
My Aunt Kathy’s picture and all the data we could find on her was placed on the conference room table. The chief and director weighed the political implications of not finding the killer soon instead of figuring out what was best for the case.
“Can you two just make a decision?” I interjected.
The room went eerily quiet and I didn’t care. The same conversation had been going on for three hours, and I wanted to find the woman and get home to Sasha so I could grovel for keeping a secret. “Stop worrying about your career for one second and think about her. Let’s release Kathy’s photo and see if there is a sighting. The tech was able to find where my aunt changed her name to Mary Brown in the records to help with her release. Her real name is Kathy O’Brian. I know it’s her, we are looking for.”
I walked over to the board, ripped down the photo of the newest victim, and pushed it into the chief’s hands. “That woman has a two-year-old daughter waiting for her at home. The little girl already lost her dad to cancer—do you want to take her mom away, too, because of what? You’re worried the press might not vote for you?”
SA Carson came over and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe we should step outside for a second and let them decide.”
I shook my head. “They haven’t made a decision in three hours.”
Chief Miles frowned down at his watch. “I understand this case is personal for you, and you’re worried about your girlfriend, but we have to worry about whether releasing the photo will help catch her or send her into hiding.”
“I guarantee she already knows that I know it’s her. The press might be able to help us. Hell… she wanted me to know it was her. That is why she sent me the packages. All along this was a game, and I waited so long to talk to my dad. Because of that, Tammy lost her life. If I would’ve gone months ago, I might’ve learned my dad wasn’t the one killing.” I turned and threw my hand out to the table. “We’ve been at this for months. She changed her timeline for taking someone. What happens if she changes her timeline of the kill? We know after finding the last location that we have less than three days and sitting here arguing isn’t getting us any closer.”
The chief nodded. “Fine, send out the photo, and then we sift through all of the calls that lead us to nothing.”
Getting the hotline number up and the photo to the media happened in a matter of minutes. The calls started flooding the lines not long after. Each call taker would add the information to a database for us to sift through. Every so often, the call taker would flag a caller with information worth looking into.
Four hours passed as I read through the latest tips coming in. I wished I could remember more about my aunt growing up. For some reason, it was a black hole every time I tried to remember her coming around.
When none of the tips lead to the information I wanted, I pulled up the database with the news hotline tips. Every so often when a story would hit the news, a flood of calls would come in. Previously, we had profiled the killer as male. Now I looked through the files from a different perspective.
The sun was coming in through the blinds. I hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours. Carson had fallen asleep on the coffee table next to me while running through searches. Sasha had texted to tell me she’d made it home. I knew she was still mad at me for not telling her about my father. I still had to explain that it wasn’t my father but my mother who’d actually killed her dad. That didn’t make my dad innocent or anything. He’d chosen her victims then cleaned up the evidence so the crimes were never linked to her. My only goal was finding the missing woman. I couldn’t look at her without thinking of Sasha.
As I scrolled through the pages of tips, my eyes burned. I was rereading everything twice. Needing a second to collect my thoughts, I walked to the break room to get a cup of coffee. A couple detectives stood next to the coffee pot. Detective Moss was serving his last five years, before retirement. The second detective, McDaniel, was in his first year with the department. W
hen I walked into the room, Detective Moss poured me a cup and handed it to me.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
I let out a sigh and took a sip of the black coffee. “I haven’t.”
“You’ve been reading tips all night?” Detective McDaniel, the younger detective, asked.
“Yes, I don’t know why people think we will stop working on one case and help them solve something else. Why do they insist on telling the cops shit that doesn’t help? Don’t they know that only makes us take longer to get through the information and find the real person?”
Detective Moss scratched his beard. “I’ve been doing this a long time. One thing I’ve learned is everyone is only looking out for themselves. They're calling in because they might be able to prove another case and get there fifteen minutes of fame. Then you have people on the other end of the spectrum who don’t have anything to do, so they spend their time looking out the window for what everyone else is doing wrong.”
“I know you’re right. I wish people would do things to be kind, not to get a leg up in the world.”
“I’ve never helped with a serial killer case before. Is there anything I can do?” McDaniel had graduated from the academy a few months ago and was new to the department.
I looked over at Detective Moss. “Can you spare your partner for a few hours to help comb through tip lines?”
“Sure, I can help too. We’re waiting on some evidence to come in.”
For the next hour, they joined me in the conference room as we read through tips. When someone would find a slight possibility, we would look into it further. So far, nothing had panned out.
SA Smith walked into the conference room, holding two boxes of pizzas. I hadn’t eaten since the night before at Lily and Jacob’s. The time was flying, and I couldn’t believe it was already lunch. The woman in the photo had been missing for close to twenty-four hours. If our last victim’s timeline was the same, we didn’t have much longer to find her.
This time, my aunt didn’t send me clues. She posted the woman’s photo on the web. The digital forensic team was working their side to see where the post came from. My aunt was in her late sixties and had spent the last twenty-six years locked away in a mental hospital.
“Holy shit.”
Carson put down the piece of paper he was reading. “You find a tip?”
“No, but we know my dad used to help my mom and aunt for some reason I don’t understand. What happens if my aunt found someone else to help her in the mental hospital? Someone who can also hack. That would explain the addition to the MO.”
SA Smith’s fingers flew across the computer as she put in parameters. It wasn’t long before she pushed back from her chair. “You nailed it. Kevin Mason. Age twenty-seven. He dropped out of high school at the age of thirteen. He has a rap sheet a mile long for hacking into government computers.”
“Why was he in a mental hospital?”
“His records show he has Schizophrenia and couldn’t spend time in prison.”
I tapped the pen on the table. “According to this, he was going to prison for hacking the NSA, but I don’t see anything about the schizophrenia until close to the trial date.”
SA Smith pulled out her phone. “Let me make some calls and see if we can find this doctor.”
“Not going to happen. He died before he was able to confirm the diagnosis.”
Someone who hacked government facilities could easily change their medical records to make it easier for them to remain in a mental hospital rather than being sent to prison, along with hardened criminals. It just happened the doctor who made the diagnosis died.
I looked up at the clock. It was now close to three o’clock, and we weren’t any closer to finding the victim’s location. The director agreed to post Kevin Mason’s picture in the media. Each hour, more tips poured into the line.
“This might be a dumb question, but isn’t this person kind of targeting you?” McDaniel asked.
I nodded.
“Well, then maybe she would use something from your childhood or go back to what she did when she killed with your mother.”
I was too busy thinking about where she might go and the links to the victims in the past. But now she wasn’t pulling victims from the past. Her targets were directed at me. I pushed the piles of papers to the side, stripped the large map of Houston off the wall, and put it in the center of the table.
Everyone hovered around as I highlighted three areas with a red marker. These were the three places my family had vacationed when I was growing up. Aunt Kathy had been there with us at each one.
I stood back and looked down at the map. “Are we sure this is our best plan to go to these locations, or do we keep going through the notes?”
SA Carson put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “This might be our best plan right now. I got a call, and they can’t find any information on Kevin Mason’s location. We’re sending three tactical teams. Of these places, which would you say is the most likely?”
I let out a breath and pointed to the one north of Houston. “This place had an underground cellar similar to the one where we found Tammy’s coffin.”
“Okay, we head there, with Team One, and the other two teams head to the other locations.”
I reached in my pocket and sent Sasha a text: Thinking of you.
Not waiting for a reply, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and walked down to the armory. I didn’t usually wear a bulletproof vest, but I wasn’t sure what to expect.
SA Carson suited up next to me and handed me a Colt M4 Carbine. I slipped the comm into my ears and base linked us. We would be able to hear the other teams as they got to their locations. The old cabin we were heading to was surrounded by woods, and visibility wouldn’t be in our favor, especially if Kevin had the place wired with cameras.
After thirty minutes on the road, the first team was set. I pulled up a small screen and watched the camera feed from the team leader's vest as he cleared room by room. Nothing was there. We were down to two locations.
When the second team pulled into place, it was like watching a replay of the first scene. The team leader looked in every room and found nothing. Now they were miles from Houston, and if this plan didn’t work out, it would take a long time to get back to base.
An hour later, we pulled down the old gravel road. SA Carson parked at the end. We had a tactical team ready and we planned to hike up the side and enter the small cabin from all sides.
I glanced at my phone. Sasha hadn’t texted back yet. It wasn’t common for her to go this long without getting back to me, but I needed to take down my aunt then I would head home and work things out with Sasha.
15
Sasha
I hadn’t slept a single second the night before. Every few minutes, I would look at my phone to see if Brandon was coming home. The image of the woman with duct tape around her hands and ankles flashed through my mind every time I closed my eyes.
Over the past few hours, I walked to the window of my apartment and looked outside for any sign of the undercover person Brandon had looking after me. I didn’t see anyone, but then I guessed they shouldn’t be noticeable if he was trying to keep it a secret. A shiver ran down my arms as I thought about how much the girl taken looked like me.
After Brandon and Carson left Lily’s house the night before, Kaylene and I stayed to help clean up the dishes. Candy had said she couldn’t help because the dishwater wasn’t good for her nails. If Jared’s goal was to drive a wedge between him and Kaylene, he’d put the final nail in the coffin by bringing her. Kaylene wasn’t about to leave her job anytime soon, so she would come to work and do what she needed to do. She did mention that Carson had given her his number and wanted her to call him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she dropped some laxative in his coffee one morning. Hell, if I had to be in the same room as that woman again, I might put something in his coffee.
It was close to five o’clock in the morning a
nd I couldn’t sleep any longer. I got up, walked out to the living room, and flipped on the television. Two male newscasters and a blonde newscaster who looked like Candy came on, a picture of a woman in her early sixties flashed across the screen and the they were asking the public to come forward with any information on her. Brandon and his team had released the picture of the alleged Houston Internet Slayer. The two newsmen argued back and forth if a woman could actually be the killer.
Up until I saw the actual photo of the victim. The thought of the serial killer running around Houston never really clicked in my mind. That changed when I came home, I made sure to lock the front door and I even walked around the apartment making sure every window was locked.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through my pictures for the past few weeks. There were a few of us at the launch site. Jared had let me take Brandon up to the rocket a few days before it took off. Then we’d spent a day at a roller park. I hadn’t had that much fun in years. Sometimes I forgot to stop and enjoy the little things in life. I had done that for years after my mom died. Then gradually, I started to forget to live in the moment.
I flicked off the television and curled up on the couch. The heaviness of my eyes finally took over and I fell back asleep.
I tried to stretch out my limbs, but no matter how hard I tried, my legs wouldn’t move. My head felt like someone was hitting my head with a hammer. I slowly opened my eyes, and the bright florescent lights in the room blinded me. When I went to cover my eyes with my hand, I couldn’t move them. When I looked down, duct taped was wrapped around my hands, as well as my feet and legs. I had no clue where I was.
The last thing I remembered was finally falling asleep on the couch. Someone must have come into my apartment and taken me. I knew I’d locked the doors and checked the windows before I fell asleep.