Lost Girls: A gripping thriller that will have you hooked (Ben Forrester FBI Thrillers Book 1)

by Jon Mills

  The lot was overgrown with weeds. A brick well filled in with soil was off to one side. It looked as if he had attempted to build a fence around the area. The posts were in but no more than that.

  With adrenaline pumping, Ben was eager to get inside but the commander of the unit told him to hang back while they approached the cabin. They were better trained for this. Even though he had worked as a sniper back in the day he didn’t want to screw this up. Waiting for their signal, he hung back behind a black SWAT truck. Dakota had her piece drawn; all of them were ready for the worst-case scenario.

  You didn’t negotiate with these type of people, they would kill their victims and themselves long before SWAT entered. The only way to get them was to catch them off guard. The chief had already called ahead to the ranger’s station to make sure he wasn’t on duty.

  Best case, they entered and he wasn’t there but the women were; worst case, he’d killed them already. At this point Ben was just pleased they had something to go on. Days of frustration had begun to take its toll on all of them.

  The SWAT team took up a linear style formation and began moving in soundlessly with assault rifles on the ready. The house was about twenty feet from the driveway. The one at the front was carrying a ballistic shield. Another one of them had a battering ram.

  Ben saw them pat each other on the shoulder and they positioned themselves to the side of the front door. The first one banged it and shouted… Police Department, Search Warrant.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  One of the officers smashed the main window and two flash bangs were thrown in. The one in front used the battering ram on the door, and the guy behind him tossed a flash bang in. One by one they charged in, yelling for the occupant to get on the floor.

  For a moment he thought they had him.

  With bated breath they waited for the sound of gunfire but there was none. A few minutes later the commander came out, shook his head, and gave a hand signal to indicate it was clear.

  Ben moved in on the place with Dakota. He met the SWAT team coming out of the door.

  “The place is empty.”

  Ben stepped inside and took in his surroundings. It was your typical hunter’s cabin with a couch, one bedroom, a washroom, and a small kitchen. Everywhere they looked, animal skins could be seen on the walls and floors. The cabin itself was in a state of complete disarray. Dirty dishes filled up the sink, a smell of vegetables that had gone off lingered in the air. Ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts and god knows what else. He lifted one of them up and turned it and the butts were stuck to it. They began moving through the house looking for anything that might give them an indication of where he’d gone.

  “Do you know if he has another place?”

  “Ted might know. I’ll go speak with him.”

  Ben wasn’t used to seeing game wardens on site. But that’s how they handled it in Maine. They had their own specialty team that handled evidence recovery, forensic mapping, and special investigations along with the park rangers, who sometimes brought in ISB which was their own investigation service branch based out at the Atlantic Field Office.

  “Ben, you might want to take a look at this,” Nate called out to him from the basement. He made his way down into a dimly lit concrete hole in the ground that was damp. One light bulb lit up the unfinished basement. Mounted animal heads covered the walls like a blanket in a horror house. At the far end of the basement was a wooden desk. A light was turned on and a variety of small animals were laid out in preparation for taxidermy. The center of the basement was covered in a pool of blood. It was thick, crimson, and fresh. Attached to one of the steel beams was a pair of bloodied handcuffs.

  “What do you make of that?”

  Nate had touched some of it and brought it up to his nose to smell. “Pretty sure it’s an animal.”

  A large white freezer was open. Inside were frozen chunks of meat but it wasn’t the meat Nate wanted to show him. It was a metallic cocktail shaker. He’d already pried off the lid to show him what was inside. It was Chloe’s purple cell phone. He recognized it because he had bought her the protective cover.

  “That’s how he sent the photo.”

  It also explained why they were unable to get a trace on her phone. It was a known fact in the counter-surveillance community that if you placed a cell phone in a steel cocktail shaker by itself, it would prevent eavesdropping through the microphone, block electric fields, and stop data from being transmitted. Refrigerators and freezers were meant to do the same but were not as effective as a stainless steel cocktail shaker.

  “That photo had an image of a steel bed. It doesn’t match the one that’s inside this cabin, he must have been holding her somewhere else.”

  “Seems odd he would have kept it. Wouldn’t you have got rid of it?”

  “Souvenir? A means to taunt? Who knows?”

  Nate nodded.

  “See what prints you can pull off the phone.”

  Ben had to give his daughter props, the fact that she had grabbed her phone before being taken gave him some glimmer of hope. She was a smart kid. If anyone could get out of the situation, it was her. His glanced at the blood and hoped that it wasn’t too late.

  Right then Dakota returned with Ted Bishop in tow. He grimaced.

  “Ugh. Some people are animals,” he muttered as he edged his way around the mess. “You wanted to see me?” He looked at the cell phone that another officer was bagging.

  “Are you aware of any other properties Mr. Adams owns in the Vassalboro area?”

  Ted spread his hands. “Not that I know of, this was his home.”

  “No, I mean for hunting?”

  He shook his head. “No clue.”

  Ben glanced at his hand. “What did you do to your hand?”

  A white bandage was wrapped around his hand and went up underneath his coat.

  “ATV mishap.”

  “Lucky you didn’t hurt your other hand or your face,” he said, seeing how Ted’s other hand had no cuts or scratches.

  “Yeah, guess I got lucky.”

  “You’re his friend, right?” Ben asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  His eyes widened, and he blew out his cheeks. He shifted from one foot to the next. “Not a lot to tell, really. He grew up in the area the same as me. He wanted to become a game warden but didn’t get through the hiring process. Keeps out of trouble.”

  “Did he ever join the military?”

  “No.”

  “You?”

  Ted hesitated before he replied. “Marine Corps.”

  “How long?”

  “Two years.”

  “Enlistment is for four years minimum. What happened?”

  “Does it matter?” He became defensive. “Not to be rude but what has this to do with finding Douglas?”

  Ben paused and looked at him, studying his mannerisms. There was a lot you could pick up from people by the way they stood, the speed they spoke at, shifts in tone, and small gestures they made.

  “Maybe I’m curious. I was in the military,” Ben said.

  “Then I shouldn’t need to explain.”

  There were only a few reasons you didn’t complete your enlistment contract. Medical, you went AWOL, or were dishonorably discharged.

  “Anything else, Dr. Forrester?”

  “No, that’s it for now.”

  He watched him leave. Dakota was about to follow him out when Ben called her over.

  “See what you can dig up on Adams having a place or renting one in Vassalboro, and I want an APB put out on Douglas Adams.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Chapter 35

  Chloe knew the only way she was getting out of this was if she escaped. She’d seen his face, knew his name. Whatever sick, twisted fantasy he had about her, he was going to play it out without the other sicko.

  It had been several hours since she had seen him. He’d received a pho
ne call and had gone upstairs. His voice raised and then she heard him slam the door. The sound of a truck pulling away and the silence that followed meant she was alone. There was no way of telling when he would be back but this was her only chance if she could just get the handcuff off her leg.

  It was cold down in the basement. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet wide. The fact that he hadn’t hidden her behind a wall or somewhere that was out of sight of the window made her think that they were in some isolated area. A place where people wouldn’t hear her scream.

  Her eyes scanned for anything she could use to escape. She sprawled out on the floor and reached for the table he had set up for taxidermy. If she could pull it towards her, she could tip it over and grab one of the taxidermy tools he’d been using. She’d seen him using sharp tools like wooden handled ice picks except thinner and angled slightly. One of them would work.

  She pummeled the floor in frustration, tears streaking her cheeks as the tips of her fingers touched the table. Not wishing to be defeated she stood up. Her body ached. At least he hadn’t drugged her.

  The closest thing to her was a plank of wood leaning up against the wall. It was an awkward size that would have made it difficult to throw but if she could tip it onto the chair in front of the table, she might just be able to drag the wheeled chair back to her then use that.

  Using all one hundred and twenty pounds of body weight she slammed into the wood, trying to knock it away from the wall. The handcuff bit into her ankle bone, causing her to scream in agony. One more time, you can do this, she told herself. The skin around her ankle was red and torn. She pushed again, throwing her entire body into it, using every ounce of effort to shift the piece of wood.

  It wouldn’t budge. Sweat rolled down her back as she huffed and panted. Please, God, if you get me out of here I will do anything. One more try, this time it barely moved a few inches. For a moment, she faced the possibility that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to do this. The very thought was like gasoline to fire, it only motivated her more. She was going to shift that piece of wood if it meant breaking her bone in the process. Taking a few more steps back, she threw herself even harder at it. The last few times were agonizing.

  One more hit and she would be done, the pain was too much. It wasn’t the force of hitting the wood as much as it was the metal tearing into her ankle. It felt like someone had peeled back a blister and was rubbing salt into an open wound.

  Enraged, she gave it one last attempt. Move, you bloody piece of crap. She gave it one almighty heave and felt it shift. It wasn’t the wood that was heavy but rather the amount of junk stuck behind it.

  Panting, she wiped her brow with the back of her arm, feeling a glimmer of hope. Encouraged by the shift she gave it another giant push. It tipped and came crashing down on top of the wheeled chair, knocking it closer to her. She waited, listening intently and hoping that he hadn’t returned. There was no sound. Quickly, she leaned forward and brought the chair back towards her. It was a small office chair on wheels. She lifted it to chest height and threw it as hard as she could at the tools on the table.

  There was an almighty crash and clatter as indistinguishable metal tools, screwdrivers, needle-nosed pliers, a hand saw, and a wrench fell to the ground. Back down on her front she reached out for whatever was closest but they were still out of reach. She screamed in frustration. She was never going to get out of this hellish nightmare. Looking out the window she saw the sun beginning to wane behind the trees.

  Chapter 36

  Ben wasn’t taking time off from the chase. Every waking hour was spent searching for answers. Outside the weather was getting bad. Inside lights kept flickering on and off. The rain beat against the windows, making it look like worms wiggling down. They had put out an APB on Douglas. Despite pressure from the town council and Chief Danvers, officers were handing out leaflets showing the faces of those missing. Chloe’s was one of them. They had never done this before. It would have been an understatement to say that this hadn’t caused a great deal of concern in the small town of Eden Falls with the locals and powers that be.

  The island attracted millions of visitors every year. He had to wonder how this would affect the place in years to come. In the event they caught this sicko, and the town became known for the murders, would people still flock here in droves? Yes. That was the unfortunate part about any case. There would always be those with a morbid fascination with murder.

  The table was laid out with photos of the women who had been found dead as well as those who had gone missing and were never seen again. Ben stared into the eyes of each of them, hoping to find a clue. Something, anything, he could latch onto.

  There was a knock at the door. He laid his reading glasses down and went to see who it was. Dakota was glancing around when he opened the door. She was soaked from the rain.

  “Ben.”

  He moved to one side. “Come on in.”

  Back inside she shook her hair and removed a long rain jacket. He asked her if she wanted a drink. “No, not while I’m working.” She glanced at his glass as he poured himself another.

  “I spoke with Jason Whittling today. You know, the one Jake Ashton said he was with on the night Chloe disappeared. Seems he was able to corroborate his alibi.”

  “And Earl?”

  “He said he was asleep when he left that evening.”

  She ran her hand over the photos on the table and looked at him with concern.

  “You can catch a few hours if you want.”

  He smiled at the offer. “I wish.”

  He had barely slept at all since she’d been taken. He knew the odds of finding her alive decreased with each passing day. Most were murdered within the first twenty-four hours. But there was something different about this killer.

  “I think he’s holding them. Collecting. I’ve looked over these women and some of them go back as far as six years. Now, the Patricia Welling girl was gone three years. The coroner said her neck was broken, but she died from drowning.”

  “So she couldn’t get up.”

  He nodded. “Drowned in a few inches of water.”

  “What else?”

  “I think he knew his victims.”

  “But didn’t you say that these were all women from outside of the area?”

  “Patricia wasn’t. That got me looking these girls up online. Let me show you something.”

  Ben walked over to a desk, tapped the track pad on his notebook and the screen illuminated the last webpage he was on. It was for Eden Falls High School. The page was for the school yearbook and the date was for the class of 2012.

  “Every single one of these girls but Chloe is from the same class, they all had markings on their bodies. They were all residents of Eden Falls or Tremont at one time. And look…”

  He enlarged the image of a young male face. It was Douglas Adams.

  “I’m telling you, we find him, we have our man. Any luck on that APB?”

  She shook her head. “Not so far but state police and U.S. marshals are searching.”

  Ben leaned back in his chair and took a good sip of his scotch.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Something doesn’t add up. Why did he keep the cell phone? I mean, sure he was able to send the photo. Perhaps it was just for taunting or a memento, but it’s risky, right? Besides, he doesn’t strike me as someone familiar with counter-surveillance.”

  “You don’t need to be. This stuff is out there on the net. Heck, people are learning how to make homemade bombs from manuals given away online.”

  Ben took hold of the photo of Patricia.

  “He never strangled this one.” He tapped his fingers against the side of his face. Outside the storm was getting worse.

  “Maybe it was just part of changing his M.O.,” she said.

  “No,” he leaned forward and tapped his finger on some of the other photos of dead women. “His crimes escalated. At first he was making it look like an accident, then, str
angulation.” He paused. “These kinds of killers don’t dial back. They escalate.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “With each murder the level of exhilaration gets less. It’s like a drug. At first everything is new and exciting and the high is beyond anything they have experienced. Eventually they need more to maintain the same high. But it’s not enough. They need something else to amp it up. Strangulation. Looking into their eyes as they die. It’s one more step up the ladder. For some that’s murder, for others it’s rape, and another torture. They don’t go back to what they used to do. It doesn’t hold the appeal that it once had. He liked this one, otherwise he would have strangled her. He wanted her to be found this way. But why?”

  Outside a crack of thunder erupted, startling both of them.

  “Tomorrow I want to swing by the high school and see if we can speak to one of the teachers.”

  Dakota nodded. “Well, I should get going.”

  “You can stay… if you want,” Ben muttered.

  She hesitated as though she was considering it.

  “There’s plenty of room right now. I’m just going to sleep out here.”

  “I don’t know. Might get people talking.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “It can be in a town this small.”

  “I don’t imagine many people are going to be stepping out tonight for an evening stroll, Woods.”

  “Are you sleeping in there?” She gestured to the sunroom.

  “It’s surprisingly comfortable.”

  It was close to nine at night.

  “Thanks but, I prefer my own bed.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She studied his face for a second before turning to get her coat. Ben looked her over. Sex was a great stress reliever. Maybe it was the drink prompting him but she was a good-looking woman. He shook the thought from his mind.