Winter's Rise

by Mary Stone

  Aside from the quiet drone of the heartbeat monitor, the room was silent, the din of the hospital muffled by the heavy wooden door at the other end of the dim room.

  Along with her wits, her senses returned, and she froze in place as she realized she wasn’t the only occupant of the small space. Before the whirlwind of paranoia could rise up to drown her, she glanced over to the solitary chair beside the bed.

  Pale eyes fixed on the glowing screen of his smartphone, caramel colored hair neatly styled, tailored suit just as sharp as she remembered, Aiden was the last person she expected to see upon her return to the waking world.

  “What are you doing here?” She meant for the question to sound pointed, but her voice was still thick with sleep.

  Snapping his gaze away from the device, Aiden Parrish straightened in his seat as his eyes met hers. “You sent me a text.”

  Autumn drew her brows together. “I did?”

  With the faintest smile on his face, he glanced to the phone, tapped the screen a couple times, and held it out for her to see.

  The words were blurry at first, but after she blinked a few times and squinted, she could make out the text.

  Hey, this is Autumn Trent. You told me to get ahold of you if anything else came up, and even though I’m not 100% sure yet, I think something just came up. I tried to call Noah Dalton, but he didn’t answer.

  The message then went on to list the address of the hospital as well as the details of her upcoming surgery. As the lingering fog from the anesthesia rolled away, she could begin to recall when she had sent the message.

  “Shit,” she muttered, pushing herself to sit. A deep sting on her stomach marked the location the surgeon had made for the laparoscopic procedure. At the reminder of the reason for the impromptu surgery, her breath caught in her throat.

  “Agent Dalton is following up on a lead right now,” Aiden said, pushing up from his chair. “Agent Black is with him. That’s probably why they didn’t answer your calls.”

  “A lead?” Autumn echoed as she returned her attention to him.

  He nodded. “One of our two suspects, and the only one we can follow-up on right now considering the other one’s been missing for fifteen years.”

  “So, do you have any idea what the hell they pulled out of my stomach just now?” All manner of possibilities had crossed her mind—everything from a literal nickel she could have swallowed as a child to an alien monitoring device.

  When he nodded again, his expression turned grave. “It’s in the FBI’s forensics department now. It’s…” He hesitated. As his blue eyes flicked away from hers, he raised one hand to scratch the side of his face. A nervous tic, she noted. She’d have to remember that. “It’s a GPS tracking device.”

  She gaped at him. “A what?”

  “It’s designed for the long-term. It’s the same type of technology that biologists use to track animals in the wild, to study their migration and mating patterns. Instead of an ear tag, it’s just a little disk, about the size of a watch battery. Our tech people will try to see what they can get from it, but chances are, they won’t find much. Those things don’t store detailed data, just approximate locations.”

  Eyes wide, she continued to gape at him as they were blanketed by silence. “What the fuck?” she finally managed.

  He shook his head. “I think it’s safe to say that you just went from possibly being the target of a serial killer to definitely being the target of a serial killer.”

  “But you said that Winter and Noah are following up on a lead, right?” she pressed, pain and exhaustion warring with worry and deep fear. And anger. So much anger. “I don’t have time for this shit. I defend my dissertation in less than two weeks, and I’ve still got another week of teaching. Why in the hell couldn’t this have happened during my undergrad? Or three weeks from now when I was done with all this shit?”

  With an exaggerated shrug, he held out his hands with a hapless look Autumn had never expected to see from the man. “I’ve never met a killer who’s conscientious about their victim’s schedule, and I’ve met a lot of killers. I’m not saying they don’t exist. I’m just saying they probably don’t exist.”

  At the matter-of-fact tone and the accompanying expression, she couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up her throat. The sound was strained, a bit panicked, but her muscles felt a little less taut afterward.

  From her first introduction to the tall, well-dressed man, she had been willingly able to admit to herself how physically attractive he was. In fact, Autumn figured that if she could build a man, he would look a lot like Aiden Parrish.

  But until today, she had been sure he was an uptight prick.

  To her chagrin, the more she interacted with him, the more attractive he became. The sentiment should have brought her a sense of giddiness, but instead, all she felt was unease. She’d picked up on enough clues to determine he was single, but she could tell he was grappling with a conflicted sense of affection for someone else. Then again, if she was honest with herself, wasn’t she doing the same thing?

  Black Friday—the day she and her fiancé split up—might have been over eight months ago, but the loss still stung when she let her thoughts dwell on the man. Clenching one hand into a fist, she pulled herself away from the moment of solipsism and back to the dim hospital room.

  There was a brain surgeon turned serial killer after her, and she had to defend a lengthy research project in less than two weeks. She didn’t have time to think about the man on whom she’d wasted over four years of her life, nor did she have time to contemplate the emotional nuances of her dealings with Aiden Parrish.

  I don’t have time for any of this shit.

  “All right,” she said instead. “What now?”

  28

  As they made their way up the short set of stairs, Winter shot a quick glance to Noah. Neither of them had bothered to change into attire more suited for their profession, and between Noah’s plaid button-down shirt and Winter’s ripped jeans, they looked like a couple college students who had made off with a pair of FBI jackets.

  At least she’d been able to exchange her gladiator sandals for a pair of riding boots stashed away in her trunk. They were far from the most comfortable footwear she owned, but they beat walking up to a suspect’s house in open-toed black and silver sandals.

  One hand rested casually on the grip of his holstered service weapon, Noah raised the other to rap his knuckles against the rich wooden door.

  “Open up,” he called. His second knock was more forceful than the first. “Robert Ladwig, this is the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We know you’re in there, so open the damn door.”

  Just as Noah arced his hand back to knock again, Winter heard the metallic lock disengage. Though a crack at first, the door creaked open to reveal a familiar set of green eyes ringed with amber.

  Dr. Ladwig had abandoned his glasses in favor of contacts, and the man was still better dressed on his day off than either she or Noah.

  “Mr. Lomond,” the psychiatrist offered. Each syllable dripped with condescension and sarcasm, and she didn’t think his tone could have been any flatter if it had been run over by a steamroller.

  As Noah flashed him a disarming smile in response, Winter almost laughed aloud. More than once, she’d been on the receiving end of Noah’s aggravating charm.

  “Howdy, Dr. Ladwig.” His native Texan drawl was thicker, his voice bright and folksy.

  Unless his goal was to irritate someone or throw them off guard, she could count on both hands the number of times she’d heard Noah say “howdy.”

  “What can I do for you, agents?” Leaning against the doorframe, Ladwig crossed both arms over his pale blue dress shirt. His hazel eyes flitted up and down as he took in her and Noah’s attire. “Is it casual Friday at the FBI?”

  “Sure is,” she replied.

  “It’s part of the bureau’s effort to maintain a friendly work environment,” Noah explained. “It’s the little things
, you know?”

  “Whatever you say, Agent Lomond.”

  Noah replied to the skepticism with a wide smile. “You mind if we come in?”

  “Tell me what you want, and I’ll think about it.”

  Well, Winter would give credit where it was due. Robert Ladwig didn’t display so much as a hint of apprehension at the unexpected visit from two FBI agents.

  “We’re here to talk to you about one of your colleagues,” Winter advised. “We think they’re involved in a case we’ve been investigating.”

  “With all due respect, Agent Black, that doesn’t tell me much. I have many colleagues. Maybe you and Mr. Lomond here could be a little more specific?”

  “All right.” Noah chuckled as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You can cut the shit, Ladwig. You know who I am, don’t you?”

  “Nope.” The word might as well have been acid, and Dr. Ladwig might as well have been a lizard.

  Reaching into the back pocket of his dark jeans, Noah offered him a sarcastic smile. When he flipped open his badge, Dr. Ladwig’s countenance changed little.

  “Special Agent Noah Dalton. Sorry for any confusion.”

  Ladwig rolled his eyes.

  If she let them, Winter assumed Dr. Ladwig and Noah would have stood on the covered porch and exchanged verbal blows with one another until the sun went down.

  “Catherine Schmidt,” she said.

  Noah and the doctor both snapped their heads to regard her with puzzled stares.

  “Who?” the psychiatrist asked, his brows furrowed. As best as Winter could tell, the confusion was genuine.

  What in the hell was going on?

  “A pediatric neurosurgeon.” She kept her intent stare on him. “Blonde hair, light brown eyes. About five-five. Mid-fifties by now. We’ve got a picture if you think that’d help. And, just real quick, it’s supposed to get up to about ninety degrees today, so it’d be great if we could have this discussion indoors.”

  Long minutes passed before Ladwig responded with, “I’m perfectly comfortable here.”

  Winter shrugged. “It’s still up to you, but if you want to let us bake out here on your porch, then I’ll have to make some calls and get a warrant to search your place a little later today. I might just do it out of spite, to be honest. These jackets don’t do much to keep us cool.”

  Stepping to the side, Dr. Ladwig pulled open the door. “Come on in, agents.” He waved a hand to the foyer, his attempt to hide a scowl unsuccessful.

  From the entrance, through the spacious kitchen and to the dining room, the place was spotless.

  Golden rays from the midafternoon sun caught the polished granite of the breakfast bar, and just beyond the French doors, the turquoise waters of an in-ground pool glittered.

  “Nice place,” Noah remarked.

  “Thanks.” The irritability had not so much as lessened from Dr. Ladwig’s voice.

  As Winter leaned forward to peer around the arched doorway that separated the dining room from the living area, she could feel Ladwig’s stare on her. She hated how much he knew about her history.

  Splayed open at one end of a gray sectional was a carry-on travel bag.

  “Going somewhere?” She didn’t bother to look over to him as she posed the question.

  Atop a coffee table was a laptop, and though she couldn’t be sure from the distance, she thought she spotted a red glow on the side of the computer.

  “I am,” Ladwig answered. From her periphery, she saw him glance back and forth between her and Noah.

  “Where’re you headed?” Noah asked.

  When her eyes met his, she inclined her chin in the direction of the computer.

  “Maine.” The doctor’s response was crisp and curt.

  “Where in Maine?”

  “The southern part,” he replied. “Agent Black, is there something I can help you with?”

  She shrugged as she stepped beneath the arch. “Any particular reason you’re headed to southern Maine, Dr. Ladwig?”

  “I grew up there.”

  “That laptop.” She waved a hand at the coffee table. “That’s an ASUS touchscreen, right? Sorry, I’m looking into getting a new laptop, and Best Buy sold its floor model, so I haven’t been able to take a look at it. Would you mind if I?” She pointed from the computer to herself and back as she edged her way past Noah and into the high-ceilinged room.

  “I’d really rather you didn’t.” But he made no move to stop her. “It’s the computer I use for work, so I’d just as soon you didn’t poke around on it.” He narrowed his eyes as she continued in the laptop’s direction. “But it doesn’t look like you’re going to listen to me, so go right ahead. Yes, it’s an ASUS touchscreen. I bought it at Costco, not Best Buy.”

  “Costco?” Noah echoed. “I wouldn’t have guessed. I’ve been looking for some new furniture, so I’ll have to keep it in mind.”

  As Winter neared the couch and the open laptop, the red glow was unmistakable.

  There was something on the flash drive plugged into the side.

  Though she was sure Ladwig’s attention was still fixed on her, she tuned out his and Noah’s one-sided conversation as she dropped to sit.

  In the center of the standard issued Windows background was a box, and in that box was a progress bar. As she leaned closer to read the text, she took in a sharp breath.

  Deleting files, 77% complete.

  “Shit,” she spat.

  Tapping a finger against the trackpad, she pressed the “cancel” button at least six times, though the progress bar stopped after the first frenzied click. Her pulse rushed in her ears as she pulled up the contents of the flash drive—the same contents Ladwig had been more than three-quarters of the way through deleting.

  Each file was labeled with a series of numbers and letters, and while some of them corresponded to recent dates, there was plenty that made little sense. Less than halfway down the page, she saw a red glow manifest around the edges of an icon labeled “bl0715192145.”

  She felt the rush of ice water through her veins as the document lit up the screen. At the top, each photograph was marked with a timestamp. The first was July fifteenth at quarter ‘til ten at night.

  Keys in one hand, green eyes fixed on the distance, was Noah. Though no buildings were in the shot, Winter could tell that the picture had been taken in the parking lot of their apartment complex.

  The next photo was stamped a minute later as Noah pulled open the driver’s side door of his pickup.

  Winter remembered that night. They had been awake since five in the morning, and as they combed through the case file for the seven-hundredth time, Noah offered to go pick up some late dinner.

  “What the fuck,” she murmured to herself.

  “What?” Noah asked.

  “He’s been stalking you.” With one hand on the textured grip of the Glock at her side, she rose to her feet.

  “He’s been stalking me?” Noah echoed, his voice incredulous.

  “Yes. Seventy-seven percent of the information on that flash drive was deleted, but there are a whole lot of pictures still left. Pictures taken at our complex.”

  Noah snapped his wide-eyed stare from her to Dr. Ladwig. “What? Dude, why? What the hell?”

  “Am I under arrest?” Dr. Ladwig grated. There was an unmistakable glint of indignation in his green and amber eyes, but behind the anger was a sentiment Winter had expected less.

  Fear. Genuine, unabashed fright.

  “You’ve been stalking a federal agent.” Silver flashed as Noah produced a pair of stainless-steel handcuffs.

  When Dr. Ladwig spoke again, the word came from between clenched teeth.

  “Lawyer.”

  Weeks had passed since I performed Jensen Leary’s autopsy. Weeks without so much as a new hypothesis. Robert had done a piss poor job of locating the second patient he’d seen with the same brain abnormality as Patient Zero, and I was back to the starting line.

  I’d decided to let
some time pass after the body of Jenson Leary was unearthed at the edge of the city, but the monotony of the last month and a half had finally ground away my last nerve.

  If they’d figured out anything from Jenson’s body, I’d have heard about it by now.

  After all, thirteen years had passed since they discovered Megan Helfer, and they were no closer to uncovering her identity.

  I did my due diligence to ensure the bodies wouldn’t be traced back to me. Even if they were identified, the trail would lead back to Catherine Schmidt, not Sandra Evans. The change in identity had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but not a day went by when I wasn’t glad I’d done it.

  Catherine had been slapped with a hefty malpractice suit after one of my patient’s parents found the little tracking device I left in their son’s abdomen.

  The slip-up was entirely on me. I had decided to try a new spot for the implant in hopes that there would be less risk of discovery. As it turned out, the complete opposite was true.

  But I owned my mistakes. I learned from them, and I never made the same error twice.

  With a sip from a glass of homemade iced tea, I refreshed the webpage. There were two of them nearby, one within a two hour drive, and the other right here in the city of Richmond.

  It seemed convenient to go for the young woman in town, but I’d learned long ago that convenience was rarely, if ever, convenient. If it was too good to be true, then it wasn’t true.

  Though I never truly forgot any of the children on whom I performed surgeries, this young woman occupied a special part of my memory.

  She had been handed over to the state while in a medically induced coma, and not long after she was discharged from the hospital, her mother had overdosed on heroin and died.

  But despite the turbulence of her upbringing, there had been a spark in Autumn Nichols’ eyes that I seldom saw in someone her age.

  She was resilient, and someday, she’d make it out of her little corner of hell.

  I knew it then, and now, seventeen years later, she’d proven me right. She was a Ph.D. student in a track of study that was one of the most competitive graduate programs in any school. Forensic psychology.