Wind Chill

by Herron, Rita

  Gia’s pulse jumped. So far, they had a working profile, but they hadn’t narrowed down a career for the man.

  If Murphy was right, and his theory did make sense, maybe their analyst at the bureau could find a suspect who fit the profile and give them a viable suspect.

  * * *

  8:35 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  Murphy’s phone buzzed on his hip. He snagged it, every muscle in his body tight with apprehension. Seeing all those young women’s names on one board and looking at their innocent faces roused a deep-seated rage.

  He wanted to find this monster and make him pay.

  His phone buzzed again, and he connected while Gia called the Bureau. Earlier, he’d left a message at the real estate agency.

  “Hello, Sheriff, it’s Lea Gomez from Tinley Realty. You left a message for Tamika?”

  “Yes.”

  “She texted saying to close the agency today because of the storm,” Lea said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I hope so. Did you see the news story about Carly Franklin’s disappearance?”

  “Yes, that’s awful. I really liked her. My church group started a prayer chain as soon as we heard. Have you found her yet?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he answered. “I’m talking to everyone or anyone who knew her. I saw her with that veterinarian Parker Whitman around town. What do you know about him?”

  “Not that much,” Lea said. “Tamika said he was nice. Why? Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?”

  “I don’t know, I’m just asking questions right now. Tamika showed him some property, didn’t she?”

  “I believe she did. A couple of places. One was an abandoned warehouse off First Street she thought he might be able to convert to a vet clinic.”

  Murphy clenched his jaw. An abandoned warehouse would be the perfect place to hold a hostage. “Did he look at any other property to buy or rent for a home?” Murphy asked.

  “Hmm, let me check. I believe Tamika keeps a log of places she shows.”

  A clicking sound, computer keys tapping on the keyboard, echoed in the background. A minute later, Lea returned. “Actually, she did show Dr. Whitman some additional properties. A cottage at Cottages by the Creek, but that sold before he could put in an offer. Then a rental farmhouse on Old Mill Road. Tamika made a note indicating he liked that one.”

  Murphy sucked in a sharp breath. The Franklin house was off of Old Mill Road.

  He’d check out the abandoned warehouse then head over there.

  “How else can I help?” the realtor asked.

  “You could do me a favor. Call the owner of Cottages by the Creek and Mistletoe Inn and get a copy of their guest lists. If they’re worried about protecting their guests’ privacy, tell them I requested this and explain the reason.”

  “Of course. I’ll fax the lists over as soon as I receive them.”

  Murphy thanked her and ended the call just as his deputy hurried in. Cody shook snow from his overcoat and blew on his hands to warm them. “Did you find something?” Murphy asked.

  “Not yet.” Cody pulled down the map of the area. Gia joined them, and Murphy made the introductions.

  “Thanks for helping,” Gia said.

  “I really like your sister,” Cody said sheepishly. “I want to find her. Everyone in town does.”

  Murphy suspected that his deputy had a crush on Carly. The worry in his voice indicated he might be right.

  Cody pointed to the map. "I’ve divided the area into quadrants, and then marked those into separate sections as well. I’m meeting volunteers at Bubba’s in a few to hand out assignments. For safety sake, we’re working in teams. Everyone will have radios and are required to check in on the half hour.”

  “Good work,” Murphy said. “Be sure to emphasize that if they find this guy not to approach him, but instead, to just call in the location. You and I will handle apprehension.”

  “Copy that.” Cody replied. “I figure we’d best start the searches right away. By late afternoon we may have to call a temporary halt because of the weather.”

  Gia’s mouth twitched as if she wanted to argue but refrained. They all knew Holly was a dangerous storm.

  “Do you have provisions?” Murphy asked.

  His deputy nodded. “Bubba and Arlene are making sandwiches and thermoses of hot coffee for us. They said they’ll be open as long as we have crews that need to be fed.”

  Cody handed Murphy a printout of the grid system, along with names of the team members.

  “This way you’ll know everyone’s location in case we need to touch base,” he said.

  Gia thanked him again, and Murphy walked his deputy to the door. “Good luck out there. And be careful, man.”

  Cody tugged his coat around his neck, stepped outside, then climbed in his Jeep to head to Bubba’s.

  “I’d forgotten what a close-knit community Tinley is,” Gia murmured, touched by Cody’s concern and quick actions.

  “It’s one reason I stay,” Murphy said. “I like the sense of community.” And he couldn’t bear to leave his mother.

  “My partner is investigating Dr. Whitman,” Gia continued, “and I asked him to have our analysts review footage or persons of interest they’ve already questioned then look at their occupations.” She folded her arms. “The travel aspect was a good call, Murph.”

  Murphy shrugged. “I hope it pans out.” He snagged his keys from his desk. “I talked to our local real estate agency. She’s gathering a list of everyone renting cottages or rooms at the inn this week.”

  “Good. I’ll send that list to my partner as well.”

  Murphy pulled on his gloves. “Whitman looked at a couple of properties. I think we should check them out.”

  Gia ran a hand over her hair. Her ponytail was sagging, strands slipping out, and she tightened the band.

  For a fraction of a second, Murphy envisioned threading his fingers through the silky strands. Not the right time though.

  Oblivious, Gia was all business. “Let me change my clothes.”

  Murphy retrieved her suitcase, and she slipped into the bathroom. When she came out, she was dressed in jeans, a warm winter sweater, gloves, hat and snow boots. She yanked on her coat. “Let’s go.”

  He nodded and opened the door. They didn’t have time to waste. Holly was gaining momentum.

  Carly’s life depended on them acting quickly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  9:00 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  Gia rubbed her arms with her hands as Murphy drove through town. The wind battered his vehicle, and he cranked up the defroster, although even with it running full force, visibility impeded the trek.

  The only snowplow and salting truck in town had cleared the main road, but hadn’t covered the side roads yet, so they were icing over, snow accumulating and piling into drifts. Tinley just wasn’t as prepared as the bigger cities in Nebraska.

  Even those who were ready would be buried in snow by tonight. The shady areas and lack of sun would prevent the snow from melting during the day, and the roads would turn to black ice.

  As Murphy passed Bubba’s, Gia’s heart squeezed at the sight of the people who’d left the warmth of their homes and families to search for Carly. He turned onto First Street and drove past the local mercantile, which had a few cars in the lot as people rushed to stock up on last minute supplies. Next door was an outfitters store, then the building at the end was vacant.

  Murphy parked in front of it, and she scanned the street and property. It was a plain brick building that had once housed a clothing factory that had filed bankruptcy and closed five years ago.

  Gia checked that her weapon, then reached for the door handle. “Do you have a key?”

  “No, but the realtor texted me the code for the lock box.”

  Together they climbed out, alert for any indication someone was inside. Gia’s snow boots sank into the thick sludge as she approached the building. Rectangular windows f
lanked the door, and Murphy checked the left one while she peeked inside the right.

  She struggled to see through the dark interior but could only make out the front space which appeared empty.

  Murphy punched in the code Lea had texted him, retrieved the key to the building then unlocked the door. She pulled her gun and braced it at the ready. Murphy did the same. He motioned to let him go first, and she stepped to the side to cover him.

  He entered slowly then stepped to the left and she followed, pausing in the entryway to listen for sounds that Carly, or the CK, was inside. No voices, just a hollow echo of the wind howling through the old eaves. Dust motes swirled like tiny bugs in front of her eyes as she gestured at the hallway nearest her. Murphy went the opposite direction, his wet boots squeaking.

  She came to a large room that was empty, then crept toward two smaller rooms. A door led to what was probably once a storage closet.

  She held her breath as she opened it and looked inside. Carly wasn’t there. Neither was the killer.

  Footsteps pounded, then Murphy’s voice. “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  Emotions pummeled her as they met in the front entryway again. She’d been terrified she’d find Carly dead and posed like the others.

  Still, where was her sister?

  * * *

  9:20 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  Tension vibrated in the car, intensified by the pounding wind and cold. Murphy clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip and flipped on the radio for an update on the weather.

  “The temperature is rapidly dropping, and by nightfall, we expect to reach a low of minus ten with a wind chill of thirty below. People, please stay home. Roads are quickly becoming dangerous. Even a short time out in this kind of cold can cause hypothermia and be deadly.”

  A pause, then the announcer. “Now, for more news. FBI and local police are searching for a missing woman named Carly Franklin from Tinley. Police believe she was kidnapped by the notorious Christmas Killer and are asking for anyone with information regarding the young woman’s disappearance or the whereabouts of the Christmas Killer to call authorities.”

  Gia sighed and looked out the window, and he turned off the radio. Frost clung to the glass, creating spider-like webs on the pane. The SUV chugged over the snow packed ground, the wind trying to yank it off the road.

  Murphy turned onto Old Mill Road, slowing as he fought the keep the vehicle steady. Though the road was paved, it led out to farmland and was a rocky ride on a good day. Today it was treacherous.

  Gia gripped the door edge as he swerved to avoid some fallen limbs. The houses in the area were spaced farther apart, some a half-acre while others sat on an acre or more. Most were older ranches and farmhouses that had been built in the nineteen fifties and sixties, although a few buyers had torn down the old homesteads and built new homes on the sprawling flat land.

  Just before they reached the Franklin house, Murphy veered into the drive of the house Whitman had looked at, a rustic farmhouse in dark gray.

  Pain wrenched Gia’s face as he parked. “Dear heavens, Murph, he looked at the house beside ours.” She turned to him, fear darkening her eyes. “He chose his other victims at random, but Carly…he chose because of me. And if Whitman is the perp, he came here and stalked her.”

  * * *

  9:30 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  Gia hadn’t considered the consequences of her job on her family, that she was putting her loved ones—her only family member—in danger.

  If she had, would she have become an agent?

  All Carly wanted was for you to come home and decorate the tree with her. And now you might not ever get to see her again. Or tell her how much you love her.

  “Gia?” Murphy’s deep voice cut into her troubled thoughts. “If you want to wait here, I’ll check out the house.”

  Gia swiped at a tear she hadn’t realized had slipped down her cheek. “No. I’m going with you.” She settled her hand over her gun as she climbed from the vehicle. The vicious wind slapped her in the face; snow froze on her cheeks.

  Bracing herself for an ambush, she and Murphy slogged through the snow to the front porch of the house. The stairs were rickety and slick, covered in snow and ice. She gripped the handrail to keep from falling.

  Murphy motioned that he would go around back, and she gestured in understanding. When she reached the porch landing, she squinted through the front window. The house was dark, but she spotted a large den and kitchen.

  Both appeared empty.

  Gia knew she had to be careful though. She pulled her gun and jiggled the doorknob. Locked. Gritting her teeth, she removed a hairpin from beneath her ponytail and picked the lock. Treading quietly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Without heat on, the house seemed almost as cold as the outdoors, and the floor creaked. Then an acrid odor hit her.

  The smell of death.

  She froze, immobilized by fear and what might lay in wait for her inside. The sound of the back door bursting open startled her. She pivoted and aimed her gun.

  Murphy stood in the hallway, his gun drawn, his expression stony as he surveyed the rooms on both sides of the hall. She sagged in relief and lowered her gun.

  Then she quickly searched the kitchen and laundry room. The house had been deserted for some time. The few pieces of furniture that had been left were dusty and moldy.

  Murphy hooked a finger toward a hallway door that led to a downstairs.

  She held her breath as she hurried down the hall and followed him into the dark basement.

  Chapter Fourteen

  9:35 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  The early bird catches the worm. That’s what his mama used to say.

  And he’d caught it this morning, long before anyone was out and about in Tinley.

  He knocked snow off his coat and shoes as he slipped inside his safe haven.

  Yesterday, he’d heard the whiners complaining about how the blizzard was ruining the Christmas Festival. The arts and craft show, the carolers, carriage rides with Santa, the Christmas pageant, the holiday shopping and the Christmas cookie bake-off—all had been postponed. Who knew if they would even reschedule?

  If the town became buried in snow, it could take a week to dig itself out. People would be trapped. Stranded on the road.

  Which would make it more difficult for him to leave town, too.

  Except he would leave.

  And he had the perfect place to hide until then.

  A place that roused both good and bad memories.

  As he closed the door to the shed, the scent of sugar, buttercream frosting and brownies from Sari’s kitchen clung to him. He paused to trace a finger over the photograph he’d snapped of her after he’d finished posing her. Her soft blonde hair had felt decadent across his fingers.

  He smiled at the image. Sweet Sari made treats for the town. Sweet Sari would do so no more.

  Only he’d left her sitting at her worktable with sugar cookie dough rolled out onto the cutting board, her hand pressing the Christmas star cookie cutter into the dough as if her joyous task had been interrupted. Before he left, he’d drizzled rainbow sprinkles across the dough to add to the holiday mood and left her radio playing Christmas carols.

  The shiny red ribbon he’d used to tie the ten lords-a-leaping ornament to her wrist looked festive against her pale skin.

  It was his best photograph yet. True art.

  He sighed and walked over to where Carly lay. Gently he brushed her hair from her cheek and watched her eyelashes flutter in sleep.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make you beautiful, too,” he murmured. Then he set the picture of Sari on the table beside the bed where Carly slept, so she could see it when she woke up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  9:45 a.m., December 19, Tinley

  Wind slashed the outside of the old house, the loose shutters flapping against rotting wood.

  Murphy gestured to Gia for her to let him
go down the steps first. Granted, she was FBI, but this case was personal to her, and his protective instincts reared their head.

  She pinched her lips together into a firm scowl. He wasn’t sure if she was angry with him for taking charge or with herself for struggling to school her emotions.

  Even in high school, Gia had been tough. The athlete. Not the girl to sit on the bench or bat her eyelashes and play helpless like some of the girls who used their feminine charm to make men fall at their feet. Then again, sometimes he’d seen glimpses that Gia might have a tender side beneath the hard surface.

  Her toughness could be an act though. Being the older of the sisters, she’d probably felt compelled to take care of her younger sibling. Worry and uncertainty must be killing her now.

  The ancient steps creaked as he inched down them, the acrid odor growing stronger. Behind him, Gia’s sharp breath indicated she recognized the fetid smell of death below.

  As he shone his flashlight across the dank space, dust motes floated in the hazy dim light.

  “Carly?” Gia whispered. “Are you down here, honey?”

  The sound of her pained voice echoed in the desolate quiet. He swept the flashlight to the right. Tattered cardboard boxes and newspapers were stacked against the wall. An antique dresser sat on three legs, the mirror cracked and spotted with grime.

  He crept down another step, then another, until they reached the landing.

  He waved the flashlight across the room. More boxes overflowing with junk, then an old refrigerator and stove on the opposite wall.

  He couldn’t see anyone visible. No closets or separate rooms, indicating the basement had never been finished.

  “The refrigerator,” Gia croaked.