“Same with the car then,” stated Whitefox. “That victim was killed in her own vehicle.”
“Yes. He’s going to have little to no remorse for the acts he’s perpetrating. To him it’s all about the power of fire. He’s lighting them up to enjoy it, to get power from it and to get off.”
“Okay, that’s the fire bug, now talk sexual deviant to me, Ethan.”
He grinned when she winked at him. “This is going to be the part you don’t like, Lyzee. Sexual serial killers are hard to profile, because sex is generally a closed door thing. Look at most serial sexual predators. On the outside they look completely normal, but behind closed doors they get off on controlling women. Hurting them and breaking them turns them on.”
Callen was infinitely grateful that his woman was nowhere near being a target on this one. He could tell his brother was thinking the same exact thing.
Elizabeth was already getting frustrated. “What about his background characteristics that make him a killer?”
“He would have started his life as a bed wetter, and possibly had a mother that was verbally or physically abusive. It’s not limited to a mother though, and could be any other female authority figure.”
“Great, we have a nut job with chic issues. Always one of my personal favorites,” stated Elizabeth, writing on the board.
Blackhawk continued, “He probably grew up under tremendous pressure to achieve. His inadequacies were pointed out daily, and used to break him emotionally. The killer would have started out killing animals, or at least mutilating them. He would have used neighbor’s pets or any animal he could find.”
“Great.”
“Our man is most likely unable to keep relationships for long. He may marry, but he’ll divorce. In bed he’s going to have deficiencies.”
“Like?” inquired Callen.
Elizabeth took this one. “Impotence.”
“Exactly, unless he’s with a certain kind of woman, or in the midst of the deviant act. It could be why he’s escalating. He picked up a prostitute, and was able to get off, but then the next time he had to hurt her just a little. It turned him on, and made it that much more exciting to hear her beg. In his mind he then thought- the more begging the more sexual gratification. He then began hurting them more and more, finding it made him more turned on and gave him more fulfillment and satisfaction.”
“He’s definitely a sick bastard,” mumbled Cyra.
“Yeah, he really is. It’s escalating. He went from sexual deviant to sexual sadist. The torture is going to become more refined, and he may start keeping the women longer than a few hours. If he lives alone, he could bring them home and start physically assaulting them repeatedly, torturing them sadistically and keeping them longer to get off repeatedly.”
“We need to find him soon,” stated Elizabeth, capping her marker. “I don’t want him having his own torture chamber in his basement. If he stays inside, we’re going to have a harder time finding him and his victims.”
“Exactly,” Blackhawk said, closing his folder. “That’s all I have for you, Lyzee.”
She nodded. “It’s more than enough to point me in the right direction.”
Detective Austin spoke up. “What’s next?” she inquired.
“Now we wait and see if Julian and Tori find anything at ‘The Pussy Cat Club’,” she answered, going to sit on the corner of the desk.
* * *
Pulling up to the club, Julian and Tori hopped out of the Denali and checked out the surrounding area. While he strolled the perimeter, she began walking towards the back of the building, hand on the butt of her service weapon.
Part of her flashed back to the war zone. She stood frozen, hearing the sounds and feeling the emotions overwhelm her. The flashbacks happened at the oddest times, triggered by things she couldn’t pin point. Tori stood there, simply frozen in her mind reliving a scattering of memories that surfaced at a bad time.
Julian finished his search, and started towards the back of the building. It was there he saw Tori, standing motionless. Slowly approaching, he wasn’t sure how to handle this, but Julian knew he shouldn’t startle her. After all, Tori had a weapon, and he didn’t. Going to her drawing arm, he touched her, hoping if she went for her weapon he could stop her.
“Victoria,” Julian whispered, feeling the tremor run through her body with no acknowledgment to her name. Moving to stand in front of her, he stared into her eyes. Apparently, she was having a blackout. “Honey, listen to my voice. I know you can hear me.” The only thing he could think of was to kiss her and hope she’d focus on that. Slowly, his lips took hers and offered her the familiarity and a way back to reality. When she began kissing him back, he relaxed.
Breaking away, Tori laid her head on his shoulder and let him wrap his arms around her body. “I’m okay, Julian. Thank you,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t ask for an explanation.
“It’s okay, honey. I have you.” He let her remain against his body for a few minutes, until she was back to her normal self. “How about we look around?” he suggested, giving her the opportunity to forget what just happened.
“Okay,” she answered, but took his hand in hers.
Julian let her cling to him, noticing that her hand was ice cold. Where ever she went, it wasn’t a pleasant place to be.
Behind the building was a blue metal dumpster, a door to the back of the club, and an ash tray. Tori noticed that there were cars parked back there. “This must be where the employees park.”
Julian crouched down, still holding her hand. “Step back, Tori. We have drag marks.”
“We also have blood on the stone right there,” she stated, pointing.
Before she could say anything else, there was an audible click and the door swung open.
She released Julian's hand and hand her weapon drawn. It was pointed at the surprised face of a stripper. Tori pulled out her badge. “Back on up there and get inside.” She pulled her badge. “I’m calling this a crime scene, so you need to head back in and close the door.”
“Want me to call Elizabeth?” asked, Julian.
“Yeah, call in the cavalry. The killer hunted here, stalked and stole them from here too.”
* * *
He sat inside the club watching the blond with the really fine breasts swing around the pole. She was flirting with the men that sat in the front row, showing them all her assets. There was no doubt at that moment who would be his next conquest.
His eyes flickered to motion at his side. Curiously he watched a stripper talking excitedly to the bouncer leaning against the wall. They moved towards the back of the building and through the door he knew led to the outside.
Something was definitely going on outside.
Grabbing his coat, he could feel panic rising at the thought that he was going to get caught there. Heading calmly for the exit, he gave the stripper one last look over his shoulder. Tonight she was his next pick; it was simply a matter of time.
Outside he could see the lights of the cars coming down the road toward the club. There was a woman wearing an FBI pullover standing not far from his vehicle. He prayed she didn’t notice him as he jumped into his car and pulled out of the parking lot. The last thing he needed was to be ID’d there at the club. Hopefully, the dancers would keep their mouths shut about his identity.
Around the corner came a van following a Denali’s with the same blue and gold emblem. Apparently, they were now on the case. As he drove towards his home, fear subsided and something else filled him. The lust was back, and he was intent of following through with his plan for the night.
One way or another, the woman swinging on the pole was about to have a date with destiny.
* * *
The three directors hopped out of the Denali and walked towards the agent waiting for them beside Julian. When they called in blood, Elizabeth had been hopeful the victim put up a fight and the blood might be the killers. Not that they had any evidence to tie to him, but still it was a first
step.
When she was directed to the blood on the wall, Elizabeth knew from the location at head level that it was likely the victims. “Hell. It’s not going to be the killer’s blood,” she muttered.
Christina took pictures of the blood on the wall, and then moved to the ground where Julian found the drag marks. “They move all the way to where the cars are parked.”
Blackhawk followed his tech, scanning the area. “Julian, what did you find?” he asked, calling over his shoulder.
“Not much other than the drag marks. He likely drove here, parked out here waiting for the right girl and grabbed her.”
Ethan sighed in frustration.
Strolling over, Elizabeth touched his arm reassuringly. “I’m going inside to stir up some strippers. Want to come watch?” she asked, winking at him.
Now he laughed. “Absolutely, Elizabeth.”
“Think of it this way, Cowboy. Nothing says fun like a post-Christmas stripper shakedown.”
Callen appeared by her side. “Did I hear you say you’re going to smack around some strippers?” he asked, grinning.
Elizabeth snickered. “You wish, big guy. I’m merely going to ask more questions and hope someone knows something.”
“You’re going to ruin their day, aren’t you?” asked her husband.
She rolled her shoulder. It was a bit stiff today. “I’m just going to loudly ask really annoying questions,” Elizabeth replied. “If I don’t get the answer I want, then I’ll ruin everyone’s day.”
Walking into the club, once again she was assaulted by the hideous hot pink decorum. “This place just pisses me off the second I walk in here,” she stated, walking over to the bouncer. “Hey you,” she said pointing at the brute.
“Yeah?” He looked at her with boredom.
“I need you to shut the music off and get the house lights turned back on for me. Fun time at the club is over for the day.”
The bouncer laughed at her. “I ain’t turning off the music. We have a club to run,” he stated, watching the two men behind her. “If you think I’m scared of the Indian muscle, you’re not too bright there baby.”
Elizabeth saw red. “First off, genius, ain’t is improper grammar,” she started. “Next on the list of criminal offenses besides your attitude and attire is that it’s not ‘Indian’, it’s Native American.”
He shrugged.
“Lastly, the only man on God’s green earth that calls me ‘baby’ is my husband, so you need to shut off this damn music, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Go for it.”
Elizabeth reached for her cuffs. “Are you going to come willingly for interference or do I have to make you?” Elizabeth asked.
“Again, bitch, you don’t scare me.”
She nodded and looked over at her husband. “Cover me, darlin,” she said, moving fast. Her foot slammed down on the arch of the bouncer’s and he teetered in pain. With the same foot, she leg swept him until he landed hard on the ground. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted the meaty hand until it was at an uncomfortable angle. He rolled to his stomach, as she twisted his arm up towards his shoulder blades. With her heel she dug it into his lower back. “You’re under arrest and I’m going to run your ass for every drug offense I can find. I can see the track marks in your arm.”
“I’m sorry I called you baby,” he muttered, as she finished cuffing him.
Blackhawk just laughed. “You probably got your ass handed to you because of the ‘Indian’ comment. That usually sets Director Baby off big time, or when you said you weren’t scared of her.”
Whitefox snickered, as they suddenly had everyone’s attention in the room. “I’ll take him out for you, Lyzee.”
“Thanks, Cal.” Elizabeth hit the stereo speaker button and the music came to a stop. There were protests as Blackhawk hit the lights the man had been guarding.
“Hey!” came the yells.
Elizabeth pulled her badge and stood there with her FBI pull over on. “Anyone here want to guess what happens when the FBI rolls on into the club, folks?” she asked, her drawl full blown.
There were choruses of ‘shit’.
“We are about to have everyone’s cooperation. I want the manager and strippers to the left, and patrons of the establishment to the right. You will have your ID’s out, and you will be ready to answer all and any uncomfortable questions I have, or I will be calling all your damn wives,” threatened Elizabeth, pointing at the men wearing wedding bands.
There was mumbling and irritated talking. A short, stocky man rushed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. “I’m running a decent establishment.”
“Take two steps back off my person, Mr. Manager or you go down like your bouncer Brutus. This time I let my muscle kick your ass,” she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “So they don’t feel left out.”
Whitefox returned just in time to see the fun start. He loved a good interrogation. “I’ll take the men,” he stated, walking towards them. “I love scaring the husbands.” He winked.
Blackhawk smirked. “Great, I get the strippers.” He knew his brother had just taken the easier job, and the one less likely to piss off Elizabeth.
“Have fun, Bro. I had to get pawed up last time. Watch the blonde named Lulu. She’s handsy.”
Elizabeth wanted to laugh, but she was too busy trying to intimidate the manager. “Name?”
“Fred Hillstone.”
“We’re in here questioning everyone, because we found blood outside your club. We have the body of one of your girls in our slab, in fact a few of your girls are taking up occupancy in our facility. I have a Sarah Royce, Tiffany Markel, Lisa Delius, and a Jessica Arturo. All were girls that called this place their work establishment, and that just appears to be one big coincidence.”
“I feel bad for those girls, but sometimes they cross the line,” he said softly.
Elizabeth lifted a brow. “Cross a line? Can you elaborate please?”
“Let’s go have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” he offered.
Elizabeth wasn’t in the mood for hospitality. What she was in the mood for was boxing in a killer than tossing him in jail. “No thank you. The sooner we have our talk, the sooner my team rolls out of here.”
He pulled out a chair for her and then sat across from her. “I’ve had a few incidents with a couple girls. I run a straight by the books establishment. I sell fantasy and that’s it. I don’t peddle flesh.”
She knew where he was taking this. “So a few of your girls were turning tricks for some extra green on the side?”
Fred Hillstone nodded. “I spoke to Sarah and Jessica. Sarah wasn’t making the money she wanted dancing, and she figured by prostituting in the back rooms reserved for lap dances would get her more income.”
“How’d you find out she was offering full services?”
“We had a few customers tell other men, and then word started to spread. At that point I installed cameras to record the lap dances.”
“You know it’s illegal to record people without their knowledge and consent, right?”
“Yeah, and it’s also illegal to run a brothel and have women working tricks out of the back rooms. Like I said, I run a reputable place.”
Elizabeth leaned back in the chair. “You have those recorded sessions?” she asked, hopefully. The FBI had recently launched out of Quantico, a program called NGI- Next Generation Identification. It took the faces of criminals on file and mug shots, running them against video or pictures of suspects. It was still relatively new, but it was a chance that if their fire bug had an arrest record, they might have him.
“No, I never kept them,” he said sweating.
Elizabeth had done this a long time and could smell a lie a mile away. “Using them as your own personal porn, Fred?” she asked, knowing when she was exactly correct. The man’s face gave it away. “Where are they?” she asked.
“At my home office.”
Elizabeth pulled out a card
and wrote the address of FBI West on the back. “You have until tomorrow at nine a.m. to drop them off at Gate security. Tell the man on the gate that they’re for Director Blackhawk. If I don’t get them by nine, I will come down here and arrest you for lewd and lascivious stalking. You will then be forced to register on the local sex registry. I doubt the backers of this club will want a sex offender working for them.”
“I’ll bring them over today.”
Elizabeth stood. “Good idea, and don’t think that I don’t appreciate you being forthright and turning in your ill-gotten masturbatory aids.”
The man looked sick to his stomach.
Ethan Blackhawk had to laugh and he tried to cover it with a cough. This was a first on that word in an interrogation from Elizabeth.
“I’ll get them to you. I promise.” He stood and started backing away from the table.
“You’re a smart man, Fred. Now send me some strippers, one by one.”
“Elizabeth, you enjoyed that too much,” whispered Blackhawk, grinning.
“Darlin’ you haven’t seen anything yet.”
It was quite possibly the longest hour of his life. Ethan Blackhawk hated this part of the job. Half-naked women didn’t attract him, so the jiggling strippers vying to get his attention weren’t the problem. He was madly in love with his wife and believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world. What did bother him was the fact that Elizabeth stood ten feet away and at any moment could come over and kill any one of the scantily clad women for inappropriate behavior. Twice now he’d had to move the blonde’s hands from his person. Once from his ass and the other time his chest.
The first few strippers were easy. He asked for their names, and when they didn’t comply, he offered to take them in for fingerprinting. Most of them looked terrified at the mere suggestion. Once he pulled that little trick out of his arsenal, they complied pretty damn fast. Then there was Lulu LaVous.
She was a handful.
Fire Burns Hot ((An FBI/ Romance Thriller~ (Book 5))) Page 40