“Two weeks ago,” the anchor continued, “remains of two unidentified young males were found. On Monday, additional remains were discovered and tied to a third victim, also male, also unidentified. All of them were in their twenties. Savannah PD’s homicide unit has called in the FBI as they believe this is the work of a serial killer.”
His mother shifted on the sofa beside him but didn’t say a word.
Why hadn’t he heard about this before now?
He straightened up, and his mother was eying him in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge her. He kept his eyes on the screen, listening to every word the reporter was saying.
“But that’s not all. Investigators have found additional severed remains just earlier today and continue to search the Little Ogeechee River. We were able to catch this footage before local authorities forced us to leave the area.”
A brief video showed an investigative team combing the river with local law enforcement. There were four individuals who stood out among them—three men and a woman. With their assured postures and pressed suits, they had to be the FBI.
The video went back to the news desk.
“The causes of death haven’t yet been determined, and authorities are withholding comment in this regard. All they will confirm is that remains have been found and that they are investigating.”
“No!” The scream burst out of him, startling his mother, but she only briefly glanced at him. He jumped up and raced outside to the edge of the property, where it neared the river. He let himself be guided by his intuition, his memory, and the moonlight as thoughts were rushing through his mind. Severed remains? That part didn’t make sense to him.
His feet sank into the ground, the mire attempting to suck him in and stop him. But he trudged on, his heart racing. When he took his next step, something hard scratched his leg. Reaching down, he pulled out a bone. His eyes widened. It looked like an arm.
He let himself drop to sit in the mud, letting it encase his legs and lap, while he held the arm. They had been his offerings that had been found in the river. They must have washed out with the recent rainstorms.
This was what happened when he waited too long between offerings. If only he’d been back here in the last two weeks, maybe he could have prevented this.
What was he going to do now? The FBI were here.
Rage quivered through him, and he closed his eyes, calling upon a higher power for direction. At that time, he sensed the moonlight getting brighter, and when he opened his eyes, the moon was clear of all clouds.
Maybe this wasn’t a horrible situation. It could just be his time to receive the ultimate glory he was due.
Yes, he’d make another offering, and this one he’d present in full to the FBI. They’d study and analyze it, and come to realize that the man they were after was much more than flesh and blood.
-
Chapter 19
MY WORKOUT HAD BEEN TOUGH, but it hadn’t completely purged my thoughts of Becky. I’d slept better last night than the night before, but I had to accept that I was going to miss having her in my life—even if it was just to talk to. Right from the beginning, conversation had come easy for us.
I wiped my neck and face with a towel, knowing it was probably time to get ready. A glance at the gym’s clock confirmed it was six thirty. Jack would be knocking on my door shortly.
I rushed upstairs to my room to find Jack already waiting in the hallway. His eyes traced over me, from my sweaty hair to soaked T-shirt, to my shorts and running shoes. “Why aren’t you ready to go? It’s seven.”
I moved past him and slid my key card into the door. “I just left the gym, and it was six thirty down there.”
“Well, then their clock is wrong.” Jack pulled out his cell phone and shoved the screen in front of me.
7:03.
Shit!
“Give me five minutes.” I went into my room without waiting for a response and closed Jack outside.
It took a little longer than five minutes. All right, closer to ten, and Jack was across from my room, leaning against the wall when I came out. He pushed off when my door opened, and he had his phone out again.
“You’ve never been good with time, Kid,” he said and took off down the hall toward the elevators.
There it is again.
But I guess when I was thirty-one and the man was a dinosaur…
I pulled my door shut and jiggled the handle to make sure the lock caught.
We met up with Paige and Zach in the hotel parking lot and headed over to Savannah PD. Once there, we all filled up on coffee, and Jack started the conversation.
“Nadia sent me a list of people in the area who matched the criteria of being of Mexican heritage and a professional truck driver, but it’s not really much of a list. We’ve got three names.” Jack turned to me. “Stanley Gilbert isn’t one of them.”
“He fits other criteria, though,” I defended.
“His phone could have ended up in the river for many reasons,” Paige said.
I locked my gaze with hers. “And coincidently near an arm?”
“We have no way of knowing why the phone was in the river. You said his wife is controlling. Maybe he threw it in there so she couldn’t reach him.” Paige raised her eyebrows.
“He has an interest in the Mayan culture,” I reminded her.
“He studied it in school,” she fired back. “It doesn’t mean he still has an interest in it.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Jack said. “Before this discussion goes any further, Nadia also had some success with Stanley’s financial records. On Monday, Stanley withdrew his full daily limit from a bank in Chattanooga, Tennessee.”
Unbelievable.
“On Monday? Wait, why are we just hearing about this now?” I asked.
Jack stared at me. “Nadia just got access to the financials.”
“The family’s financials?” I tilted my head. “Darla told us she manages the money, yet she didn’t mention this withdrawal to us either time we spoke to her.”
“Maybe she didn’t know,” Paige suggested.
I thought back to the nervousness she’d shown when we went to leave the first time. But maybe it wasn’t so much her nerves getting the best of her but rather a desire to protect her pride. To admit that Stanley had taken money out would be tantamount to acknowledging Stanley had left her. “Oh, she knew. And Chattanooga? He could be taking I-75 back to Michigan. Maybe going to his parents’.” I glanced at Jack. “We should have locals drop in and see if Stanley’s been in contact with them, or at least have their place put under surveillance.”
“Sounds smart.”
I wanted to pat myself on the back but restrained myself. I could definitely get used to receiving praise from Jack.
“You do realize, though, that he could be anywhere by now,” Paige said. “Then again, he could still be in Tennessee.”
“And with no hits on the BOLO for his Prius, he’s likely driving something else,” Zach said.
“Well, if he ditched it, it tells me he has something to hide, if you ask me,” I concluded.
“Nadia has narrowed down the list of truckers to one driver whose route transects where a few white twentysomething males went missing,” Jack said. “Good news is the man is currently between runs. His name is Carlos Rodriquez.”
I smiled. “A perfect Spanish name.”
“He’s also a feasible suspect,” Jack said drily. “You and I will go to Stanley’s work after we meet with Garrett Campbell about the torso.” Jack then addressed Paige and Zach. “I want you to go see Carlos. I’ll forward you everything that Nadia sent me on him.”
Zach nodded. “Any update on the number of remains found so far?”
As if he’d read Zach’s mind, Pike came into the room. “I’ve got the latest count. Three more
legs, another torso, and another arm. All are in various states of decomp. Some of the remains are just bone. Everything’s been sent to GBI.”
Jack nodded. “We’re headed there soon to see Garrett.”
“Do the remains match up with previous finds?” I asked. “Arms and legs without skin, the torso with skin and covered in blue paint…a missing heart?” Nothing about any of this was easy to verbalize.
“The second torso didn’t have skin.” Pike swallowed, the idea seeming to sour his gut. “But the heart was missing again.”
“We’ll need to find out if they were removed before or after death. We could be looking at our cause of death,” Zach said. “Hopefully, the medical examiner will be able to answer that. Any results on the blue paint?”
“Not yet. But I assure you it’s a priority,” Pike said. “Officers haven’t had any luck on the streets so far when it comes to missing people, either.”
“Where is he getting his victims?” The question came out louder than I’d intended and may as well have been rhetorical at this point. But it was a glaring piece of the puzzle we were missing and one we’d better find soon.
“Lieutenant, I have a question for you about Jesse Holt,” Paige spoke up.
“The former plantation employee?” he clarified.
“Yes. We spoke to the Wests about their son Colin, who went missing five years ago. At the time, he was roommates with Jesse. They fingered him as being behind their son’s disappearance. Was that angle explored?”
“I can certainly pull the file again and take a closer look.”
She nodded. “Thanks. Let me know.”
“Will do.”
-
Chapter 20
I CALLED LANSING PD ON our way to see Garrett Campbell. There hadn’t been any sign of Stanley going to his parents’ place in Michigan yet, but they were monitoring the situation. There wasn’t much more I could do from here, so Jack and I drove the rest of the way to GBI in silence.
We entered the morgue as the chief ME was gloving up. “My gross findings tell me that we’re looking at multiple victims again.”
“So how many is that now?” Jack asked.
“Seven. Should we get started?” Garrett bobbed his head toward the gurney and the dismembered torso. Not that I needed him to point it out. Still, my gaze followed his direction.
“It’s not the prettiest thing to look at, is it?” He lowered his head to catch my eye.
“Not exactly,” I said. “Nor to smell.” The stench ran right up my nose, and I stamped out the nausea.
There was a glimmer in Garrett’s eyes. “There are masks in the dispenser over there if you want one.”
“I’ll be fine.” And really, I should have been. What he didn’t know was that I had seen worse—a lot worse. I’d seen ground human intestines, decapitated heads, severed penises. Yeah, working for the Bureau was certainly wrought with less-than-pretty things to look at.
“Do you have any questions before I get started?” Garrett asked.
“When should we know what was in the paint?” Jack stepped closer to the gurney, while I remained a few feet back. I would have moved farther away if I wasn’t certain both men would catch it.
“It’s nothing you can pick up at a store, I can tell you that with certainty.” Garrett brushed his gloved fingertips along the skin and rubbed at the paint before showing us his hand. Blue particulates stood out against the black latex. “It’s quite durable as you can see. It’s held up against the elements, and to the touch—” he put his hand over the torso again “—I say it has a texture much like clay. A sample was already sent to the lab.”
“Finding out its composition is a priority,” Jack said in a no-nonsense tone.
“As we are well aware.” Garrett’s eyes went from Jack, to me, and back to Jack. “Shall we start now?”
“By all means.”
Garrett dove right in. Not the most delicate way of thinking about things, considering the hole in the victim’s chest, but it was what it was. He cut the Y-incision and flapped back the skin. It was one thing I’d never quite adapted to seeing, but at least it didn’t have the effect of making me want to vomit, so I considered that a good thing.
Garrett stepped back to take a photograph of the insides. “The killer wasn’t delicate with what he was doing, but see these?” He pointed to a couple of ribs that showed deep nicks. “Given the fact that the victims were restrained, and the way the blade shifted—” he pointed to some marks that didn’t fall in line with the other grooves “—I’d say we have our cause of death.”
My stomach churned. “His heart was removed while he was alive?”
Garrett was looking inside the chest cavity. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the heart was removed perimortem.”
I was suddenly aware of each of my heartbeats and thankful for their existence and the air in my lungs. I couldn’t imagine what this poor guy had gone through. His heart torn out while he was alive… It was barbaric and sadistic by modern-day standards. And more than that, this indicated that Zach was more than likely right about our unsub carrying out an ancient ritual.
“Do you believe the blade used here was the same as that used on the arm and leg found last week?” Jack asked.
“Too soon to tell, but I’ll be doing what I can to determine that.” Garrett leaned in closer to the torso, but he must have caught a glimpse of something as he pulled back. He took a pair of what looked like long tweezers from a side tray and plucked something from one of the grooves in the bone. He held it up to the light, and I angled to get a look.
It was dull and made me wonder if it was flint like Zach mentioned the ancient Mayans had used in their sacrifice ritual.
Garrett put the piece in a vial. “I’ll have an analysis done on this.”
He went back to the remains. “The other organs appear intact. I’ll take samples and have a toxicology panel run to see if this victim was drugged.” Garrett spoke with his eyes and hands on the torso. “Of course, any evidence of that could be long gone. The digestive system should tell us how long it was since he last ate. Calculating time of death, however, with nothing more than what’s in front of me is going to be impossible…”
“You have my number. Call the minute you have any more findings,” Jack said, stepping toward the door.
“Will do.” Garrett was back in the torso.
Jack and I left the morgue, and while Jack was excellent at hiding his emotions, I was full of empathy for the victims. And curious what about them specifically had attracted our unsub.
-
Chapter 21
CARLOS RODRIQUEZ WAS A NATIVE Mexican who had immigrated to Savannah twenty years earlier. He’d buried two wives and was a registered gun owner. Currently, he was single and living in a mobile home community in a double-wide. There was a garden bed outside that was overgrown with wild flowers and whatever seeds had found their way to the soil.
“He makes regular runs back and forth to Alabama,” Paige told Zach as she summarized what they had on Rodriguez. “Missing Persons indicates that there have been a couple white males abducted along his route during the time he’s been with Buck’s Cartage.”
“And Jack’s sending us in alone?” Zach smirked at her from the driver’s seat, teasing her about her lament from a couple days ago when they were on the way to see Jesse Holt.
“We’re just getting a feel for the man. Nice and friendly,” she mimicked back.
They were already parked in Carlos’s driveway beside his Buick LeSabre and had been sitting there for about a minute. She reached for her door handle and got out of the SUV.
As they approached the mobile home, she noticed someone holding back the curtain in the front window, but with the sunshine glaring across the glass, it was hard to distinguish much beyond that.
Zach knocked, and they waite
d. No answer.
“Does he think we don’t see him?” Paige knocked this time, harder than Zach had.
“Go away!”
“Mr. Rodriquez, it’s the FBI.” She had to talk loud enough for her voice to travel through the door but not so loud that everyone in the neighborhood heard her. “We need to talk to you.”
Her request was met with silence.
“They don’t have back doors in these things, do they?” Paige asked. “Because I’m getting a bad feeling…” She stepped off the stairs, and so did Zach.
He was already around the side when a gunshot cracked through the air, accompanied by smashing glass.
Shit! Paige ducked and moved against the trailer to seek cover.
The shot had come from inside the trailer home and the bullet exited out the front window. Who knew where it had ended up, though.
“I know my rights!” Rodriquez yelled. The distinct sound of a gun cocking hit the air.
“We just have some questions for you,” Paige shouted.
Zach had inched his way back around to the front corner of the home, opposite Paige. Rodriguez was still on the other side of the front window.
Somehow they had to get the situation under control. Get him to relinquish his weapon and see that they were on his side.
“Nice and friendly, right?” she whispered to Zach.
“Go away!” Rodriguez yelled again.
“We need your help,” Zach called out.
He shrugged when Paige looked at him. He was apparently playing good cop.
Rodriguez barked a laugh. “Ain’t no Fed needing my help.”
“Please,” Zach said.
“That’s it, I’m calling this in,” Paige stated harshly and loudly to play up the role of bad cop, even though she was dialing Savannah PD.
“If I talk to you, will you go away?” Rodriguez asked.
“You have my word,” Zach assured him.
Paige got through to PD and backup would be here soon. She put her phone away.
“Come out with your hands up, just so we know you’re no longer armed,” Zach directed.
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