Jill Oliver Deception Thrillers (Box Set Books 1 - 2)

by Judith Price

  “Well, what else could it be then?” he humored her. “Too warm in the year for icicles.” He mused further. Jill tapped the screen. A Safari Internet browser inset window opened and Google pulled up local businesses in the Luray area. She compared the markers from Google maps to the markers of the victims on the FBI map.

  “A Luray tax service, business solutions, log home builder, storage, courier. Cave expeditions.”

  Jake repeated. “Cave expeditions.” and he studied the sketch.

  Luray Cave Expeditions. She pressed Google images for this business. One by one, the images popped up on the giant monitor. Jake’s mouth began to open, his jaw tight as it dropped. Image after image after image showed photos from online albums. Pictures of the caves. Sharp stalagmite appeared as golden shards from the reflection of the lights as the pages loaded, one after another, after another.

  He looked at Jill, then grabbed her arm. “Come on, we gotta go.”

  Thirteen

  The gloom of the fall weather held its breath as they merged onto Interstate Ninety-five.

  “We think it’s Luray Caves.” Jill said excitedly to Eric. “Are the others finished yet? Yeah.” She paused. “Okay.” Jill snapped the phone shut. “Mitch is done. Eric said his sketch could pass as a cave, but it’s a bit of a stretch. But he said there was definitely a mountain in the background of his sketch. He said he’d call after the viewing summary.” Jake stared ahead. “How far away is Luray?” Jill queried. She was actually quite excited to be on the road, out of the office.

  He didn’t respond, as he was busy with a call. Jill suspected he was talking to Agent Olsen. She looked out the windshield and the gloom of the pending dusk and thought of Page, Arizona where she grew up. The picture of her mother scratched her memory.

  In a cave, for that matter, of all places to see a picture of her. Maybe her mother had brought her to caves when she was little. Arizona was full of rock, hoodoos, and caves. But that smile, and the cold dead look in her eyes, as if she were possessed by darkness. A vile, evil darkness.

  She thought about her mother and tried to recall a distant memory. Any memory. She couldn’t recall much of anything. Why didn’t she remember much of her? Why had her grandparents not talked about her? Did they have a falling out? How could that be?

  “Some things are better left alone,” Grams would remind her.

  Her grandparents were strong, and more so, loving. They had taken her in after Jill’s mother, Mary Anne, had died. They taught her the sacred Sun Dance, which white authorities for decades had made illegal—it was witchcraft, they said. It had still been practiced secretly on the reservation at a place called Anna Mae until recently, when the tribal police destroyed the structure in an attempt to stop the ritual. But it was Grams who was ever-present after her death, even today. She was a healer, a sand painter, a modern-day medicine woman.

  Then it happened, a flash so fast. A picture, lingered, then left as quickly as it came. A vision.

  A crow lands on the old gray split-rail fence. I watch it as I lay on the warm blanket, grass prickling through. The scent of white lilies fills me when a soft hand touches mine. My mother speaks in her native tongue while tickling my tiny toes. I don’t understand what she is saying. She holds out a small leather pouch and points at the crow gazing down at us.

  She’d had this vision before, many times in fact. It always made Jill smile. But never with this ending.

  Then darkness swoops down like an angry raven and Jill’s mother’s face twists. Distorts somehow. She laughs in a low rasp, like a smoker’s hacking laugh. She lifts her hand back, pauses, then swings it fast, smacking little Jill hard across the face, and spits, “You ungrateful little bitch.”

  Jill gasped herself back to the front seat of the car.

  Jake was still talking on the phone. “’Bout two hours, I’ll call if need be. Let’s just chalk this up as routine questioning for now.” Jake closed the phone. “That was Agent Olsen, she’ll continue to follow up the list on her lead sheet.” His body moved slightly as he weaved in and out of traffic. His brow furrowed. “’Sup with you?”

  “What?” She blinked in disbelief at her vision. She sat rattled, not knowing what to say to Jake, silent. Why was my mother hitting me? She’d never had a mean vision of her mother before.

  “What … what?” He persisted.

  “It’s nothing. Just disturbed by my sketch. Why are you driving so fast?” Jill deflected.

  Jake glanced at her then back to the road. “I am not driving that fast.” A beat passed before he spoke. “Jill, I don’t really understand exactly what you do. But one thing is for sure. You did draw a cave that just happens to be in the same vicinity as the vics. The ice pick, I imagine you got that idea from our briefing earlier.” The sound of a horn blared as they jerked back into their lane.

  “To you Jake, an uniformed individual on remote viewing, it probably seems absurd. I felt that way too when I first began to learn.”

  The conversation became silent before Jake piped. “Well, we didn’t talk about caves. Hell, I didn’t even know they were there. All these years, ya think we’d have heard about them. Seems like a perfect creep-factor breeding ground.” Another pause. “Did you know they were there?” He glanced in her direction.

  Before Jill could answer, he beamed slightly and continued. “Special Agent Jill Oliver. Been a desk jockey at the bureau for almost two years in a rather secretive RV department. Graduated from Gilbert College in Arizona as a Crime Intelligence Analyst, destined for the Navajo County Sheriff’s office until … a little birdie told me … until you met Eric Wallace on a rafting trip on the Colorado River and several weeks later you were recruited by the FBI for this remote viewing group.”

  Jill twisted her neck hard to face him. Jake smirked back. “I have my own talents too, Jill.” She folded her arms and looked out the windshield, not sure if she should be pissed off or flattered that he spent some time pulling up her file.

  “I'm curious, though. What happened to make Eric Wallace recruit you? He’s been at the bureau a long time now. Has connections for sure.”

  Jill glared at him, but couldn’t help but feel slight flutters inside her. He was more than just handsome. He had charm. Rugged charm, but charm nonetheless. He was about six feet tall. His forearms stretched the material of his jacket. She remembered grabbing his tight ass that night, that … Another car blare interrupted her thoughts and she turned back towards the windshield.

  “I err, I uh …” Jill thought about what to say. After a beat she said, “I pilot the rafts on the Colorado River.”

  “Pilot them? Well, Agent Oliver, that’s intriguing.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  Jill sent him a sideways ‘what-evs’ glance. “Yeah, ya know, drive the ship.” she mocked.

  “Those are enormous aren’t they? And you’re such a tiny thing.” He looked her up and down then back to the road.

  “Size has nothing to do with brain power, there is such a thing as intelligence. Besides, I bet I could kick your ass to the curb if I had to.” She was beginning to get annoyed.

  “Don’t get all defensive now little lady. I was just saying.” he finished. “So what happened?”

  He could see that Jill’s arms were crossed now and knew that she wasn’t going to share. Well, not right now, he mused to himself.

  Another moment passed. “How does it work? I mean how did you come up with this drawing?” he queried.

  This seemed genuine to her and she thought for a moment. She didn’t want to let him think she was some sort of pushover. “Have you ever had a ‘déjà vu’? Like when you are somewhere you could swear you’ve been in the exact place doing the exact thing that you’d done before?” Jake gave a nod. “Can you explain that?” She asked.

  “No.”

  “Well let’s just say, it’s something like that, but different. We request the ‘déjà vu’ experience. We summon the energy to help us find a target. To show us the way. It’s not
a hundred percent accurate and you know it’s not like what you see on TV. It’s science. We’ve proven it over and over. Frankly anyone can summon. It just takes practice.” The Crown Vic vibrated under Jill’s feet as it sped along the highway. He was thinking now, she could tell that much.

  She continued. “When you first picked up that Glock 25 you have holstered under your jacket, did you hit a bull’s eye first shot?” Jake's lips puckered. “Well, it’s the same. Once you learn how to use the energy, you can travel on the wave. It’s not physical like surfing. It’s your mind’s energy tapping into the energy matrix.”

  “You see the movie, The Matrix?” Jake smiled staring at the road ahead. “Like that?”

  “I suppose some elements … yes. I’ve had the ability to tap into this type of energy pretty much my whole life.” Jill was warming. “I just didn’t know what it was. How to control it.” Jill thought about adding the next part of her story. “One time I had this dream about this boy. The next day I found myself standing physically where I had dreamed, the exact location. I knew instinctively what it meant. I guess it was like a ‘déjà vu’, but I knew what to do. I knew that all I had to do was tell someone about the danger in the woods and I could save the little boy’s life. And I did.”

  “Save his life?”

  “Yup.” Jill could see Jake’s right eye squint. She knew what he was going to ask next, everyone always did.

  “So you’ve done this before. Sketched like this and caught your target.”

  Jill nodded, paused, and then said, “Many times … but, but not like this sketch. I have never felt anything like this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jill thought hard. “I think the difference is that most of our targets—come to think of it, all of our targets, are structures. You know terrorist targets. Golden Gate Bridge. The White House.” Jill recalled the viewing earlier in the day of Fort Knox. “So, to answer your question.” She paused again. “See, normally the team has to go through all six phases. But like I said, this viewing was different for me. I felt like I was being pulled into the room. Pulled into a well …” She paused. “Terror. I felt it’s evil presence. His presence.” Jill knew the unsub was human. But what she had felt somehow seemed to be inhuman. A monster. There was no way in hell she was going to tell him that her mother was in the viewing. No way in hell.

  They continued down the road. Jill glanced at Jake. He was deep in thought. Several minutes passed and Jill said, “What do we do when we get there? Ask if anyone has seen a man carrying an ice pick around? Anyone seen any dead bodies?”

  “We’re just going to have a snoop around the place. Just routine questioning. See if you recognize anything. Just stay quiet and let me do the talking. I have a nose for this detective stuff.” He smirked.

  Fourteen

  Matthew

  Rain splattered off the large glass windows in the foyer of Luray Caverns. Dark clouds loomed like giant puffs of gray smoke.

  Inside, Matthew slid the mop across the dirty floor. His curly red head bobbed with each stroke of the mop. He was dressed in his neatly pressed khaki uniform; a leopard skin belt cinched his waist. He should have been grumbling, as his shoes squeaked on the wet floor, since this was the third time that afternoon he’d had to mop the front entrance. But he didn’t care. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 4:45 p.m. Almost closing time and then he’d be on his way.

  Matthew giggled. That sweet bitch, Mandy, the manager. He’d had enough of her telling him what to do. Besides, she was one sick puppy and she deserved it. Screw her. Matthew giggled again. He’d let her know how disappointed he was. He didn’t need her constant interference. He could feel the pleasure tingling and he didn’t dare adjust himself. He stopped mopping when he heard, then saw through the large glass plated doors, a black Crown Vic pull up. The lights flicked off as the car doors opened.

  The driver got out. He was wearing a black suit complete with a slender black tie. A beautiful, tall dark-skinned woman slammed the passenger door and walked towards the entrance.

  Matthew looked over at the reception area. Sylvia was adjusting the brochures on the thick curved desk. He’d seen many Crown Vics in his stint at the ‘retreat’. He knew it couldn’t be good. He slowly began to mop backwards. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth, until he found himself in a small alcove. He was within earshot and heard them ask Sylvia to call the manager.

  Minutes later that fat bitch Mandy the manager approached them. She was dressed in that same suit she’d been dressed in the past two months. Some days it was looser than others after she bragged about the success of her most recent diet. Not today.

  “I’m Special Agent Acker and this is Special Agent Oliver.” He flipped open his badge. Matthew couldn’t see it, but he heard him say, “We’re with the FBI. Just following up on a tip and hoping to ask you some questions.”

  “What’s this about?” Mandy the manager queried.

  “Just routine follow up ma’am,” he assured. “We just have some questions about the caves here.”

  “Oh, the caves,” A burst of pride flushed her face and she pointed to the large poster encased in glass against the wall. The cave system looked like a game of snakes and ladders weaving in and around, up and down large jagged edges of rock.

  “Here is our cave system. It’s too late to take you on an expedition—you’d need about two hours for that. But this map shows everything.” Mandy the manager looked at her watch and then over to the agents. “What is it you are looking for?”

  The two agents studied the floor plan of the caves before the man said, “Looks like a pretty big cave system. Impressive.” Mandy the manager nodded. “Are any of these caves private? Is there any place in the caves where you might store wood?” Matthew heard himself gasp. They were here after him. He knew he wasn’t being paranoid. But how, how could they know?

  Mandy the manager looked a bit nervous when she shook her head. “No storage rooms with piles of wood. But there is wood throughout the systems. We’ve used wood for walking planks on the floor. And wood for the railings.” She said hurriedly glancing at her watch again. “We have railing throughout. It could be dangerous if you fell.”

  “What size are the rails?” the man asked.

  “What do you mean? We’ve just replaced most of them throughout the caves.” Mandy the manager beamed.

  “Any four-by-four-size railings?”

  Mandy the manager scrunched her brows together. “Err … no. Why?” Then without warning, she began her sales pitch of the caverns.

  As she babbled, Matthew thought. They’re going to ruin everything. Who are these people? How do they know? Matthew watched them from behind. The shadow of the alcove kept him hidden. He had his plan. He eyed the clock. Now it would be ruined. He had looked forward to tonight because he had come up with something special for Mandy the manager.

  What is that other woman doing? More sweat bubbled on Matthew’s forehead as she ran her finger through the cave system on the drawings.

  Stop asking her questions, he thought to himself. “That bitch. Shut up. She’ll talk for hours,” Matthew whispered. He was beginning to lose control.

  “What is this a picture of?” the woman asked. Her finger was touching a photo of the hideous looking musical instrument.

  “Oh, you haven’t heard of the Great Stalacpipe Organ? It’s the world’s largest musical instrument. Our stalactites covering three and a half acres of the surrounding caverns produce tones of symphonic quality when the organ is played. Most folks think it has a spooky sound when it’s played. Not me.” She didn’t even take a breath. “I love it. It’s a beautiful sound.”

  Why was that woman looking at the man like that? “Where is this cave,” the woman interrupted. Matthew began to feel it. He had to control it. He had to leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. He began mopping to his left behind them, towards the staff entrance. The door that would lead him past all the offices, past the storage room and then past his of
fice to the exit door. Mop left. Mop left.

  “Oh, that’s a different cave system.” The man seemed relieved by the interruption of the woman’s constant chatter. “It’s closed. We started to explore it a couple of years ago. But since there was no way to connect it to the main entrance we decided against it. Well, that and the economy not doing so well. People aren’t spending as much money on personal outings these days. Numbers continue to dwindle. So we used any additional resources to keep up the current cave system. Make it more pleasant. Besides, ever since that tragic death …”

  “Tragic death?” the man interrupted.

  Mandy the manager looked wearily to the ground. “Tsk-tsk, George Fisher.” She looked back to the two agents. “It wasn’t only a tragic death. It was a horrible way to die.” The two stared at her and waited. The pudgy manager shifted her stance several times. “Well, it’s very unstable in that cave system. Not like this one. It’s much more slippery and well … George wasn’t wearing proper footwear. He was hammering in markers for the railing system and from what they could tell after they found his body …” She paused just long enough to take a breath and adjusted her snug business suit jacket. “Well, it appeared he slipped and fell backward and impaled himself on a micro stalagmite. Like this one.” She leaned into the large poster and tapped on an inset picture of what was almost identical to Jill’s sketch. “Did you know, that stalactite with a ‘c’,” she finger-quoted in the air, “is for ceiling. And stalagmite with a ‘g’,” another finger quote, “means ‘g’ for ground. Not a lot of people know this,” Mandy the manager dribbled on.