The Mirror Stage (The Imago Trilogy Book 1)

by J. J. Stone

  “I’ll be in touch if we need you at another crime scene.”

  “I’m not sure I was that much of an asset at the last one.”

  “We both know that’s a lie,” James snipped back.

  “What?” Ada asked, incredulous.

  Dammit, get off the phone. “You did just fine.” He heard Ada prepare to reply and quickly added, “Someone’s at the door. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call and tossed the phone across the bed.

  _____

  Ada stared open-mouthed at her phone for a few seconds then shook her head and tossed the phone into her bag. She jogged up the last few steps of the Fine Arts building and nodded to a passing teacher. She had decided to forgo sleep and head into work a few minutes early to mentally prepare for the day.

  Ada entered her classroom and made a beeline for her desk. Laptop in hand, she lowered wearily into her desk chair and propped her feet up on her desk. Her computer balanced on her lap, she checked her email for any last minute student emergencies. There always seemed to be a few panic attacks the night before final readings.

  “Professor Greene?”

  Ada glanced at the door to see a student leaning into the classroom. “Kate,” Ada greeted as she quickly slid her feet off the desk. “Come on in.” Ada shut the laptop and placed it on her desk.

  Kate smiled and slipped into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she apologized as she neared Ada. “I was just wondering if maybe I could read my final draft to you? I don’t read today, so I just wanted to know if you have any edits before I have to present it.” She paused, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “And I’m totally rambling.”

  Ada smiled and motioned for her to go ahead. “I’m all ears.”

  “Awesome,” Kate gushed, setting her bag down and pulling out a notebook. She flipped open to the appropriate page and took a deep breath. “‘She knew this probably wouldn’t end well, but she just had to entertain the fantasy of what he would be like,’” she read.

  Ada listened as Kate proceeded to share the climactic chapter of her romance thriller. Ada vaguely remembered reading the plot submission for this piece. It centered around a pastor’s daughter who ran away from her confined small town and ventured to the next town over, where she met and fell for a serial killer on the run.

  “‘Becca watched as Tom walked across the street from his building and made his way up to her building’s front door. She waited for the buzzer to sound, wondering if he had ever noticed her watching him leave his building, silently wishing that he would head to her door instead of walk down the street.’” Kate paused to gauge Ada’s response. “What do you think so far, Professor?”

  “Your wording makes the story feel more romance and less thriller. Isn’t Becca about to become Tom’s victim?”

  Kate nodded. “I mean, he doesn’t just storm in there and murder her. They get together first,” Kate explained sheepishly.

  Ada held up a finger. “Never get embarrassed talking about your work. Own what you’re writing.”

  Kate bowed her head and fiddled with the notebook. “I’m just going to rewrite. You’re right, this is crap—”

  “I never said it was crap. I just said you needed to work on wording,” Ada soothed. “Talk through the premise. That should help you get a clear grasp of how this scene needs to play out.”

  “Ok,” Kate took a deep breath and closed her eyes in concentration. “Becca falls for the serial killer across the street after running away from her overbearing parents.”

  Ada’s subconscious snapped to attention. Kate’s words faded off as a mental catalog of case files flew furiously behind her eyes. The first victim had been killed at home. She was the only one who had not died in public. There hadn’t been any sign of a break-in, and no indication of a struggle. Neighbors that had been questioned said she had many people coming and going from the house, so it wasn’t unusual to see strangers around the house.

  Ada leapt to her feet and crammed her belongings into her bag. She noticed Kate’s gaping mouth and wide-eyed stare and realized the student had been speaking to her.

  “Right, um,” Ada scrambled, “Becca should be surprised by Tom. He should show up at her door and beg her to let him in. And when she thinks that something romantic is about to happen, he pulls a knife on her instead.”

  Kate nodded, dazed, and clutched her notebook to her chest.

  “Can’t wait to see what you do!” Ada breathed as she brushed past Kate toward the door.

  _____

  Ada’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she pinned her phone between her ear and shoulder. “Come on, come on,” she hissed as her computer struggled to match her frantic pace.

  Brenda’s voicemail message blasted into her ear for the fourth time. Frustrated, Ada banged her palm against the top of her desk as she waited for the beep. “Brenda, call me as soon as you get this. I think there’s a connection with the first victim and the killer that we need to look into. Just … call me.”

  Ada moved her head and the phone slid from under her chin and dropped into her hand. She placed it on the desk and slumped in her chair. Her office was pitch-black, save for the painful glow of her laptop screen. A faint ticking sound emerged from the silence, and Ada realized she was clicking her teeth together, a nervous tic she thought she had ditched in high school.

  In the hallway, someone joked about a midterm exam question, and Ada’s eyes flew wide. She glanced at the time and realized in five minutes students would be showing up in her classroom. She stared down at her phone, ready to pounce on it at the first ring.

  A loud knock on the office door’s glass broke Ada’s concentration on her phone. The office door opened and Tiffany poked her head in.

  “Ada?” she called into the dark office.

  “I’m just grabbing something real quick,” she said to Tiffany. A glance at the time brought a pit to Ada’s stomach. Class started in one minute.

  “Well, you have students that are asking for you,” Tiffany told her as she pushed the door open wider. “A big group of them stopped me while I was heading into my classroom.”

  Light poured in from the hallway and momentarily blinded Ada. She cursed under her breath and stood, checking that her phone was on silent mode before sliding it into her pocket. She rushed to the door and gave Tiffany a tight smile. “Guess I’ll go give them this exam they seem to be wanting.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Dade glanced at Brenda as they made their way into the station. She had been hitting redial the entire trip from the hotel to the station. “Still not answering?” he asked, holding the door open.

  Brenda strode into the station and jammed her phone into her pocket. “Why the hell would she call, leave a message like that, and then not pick up?” she fumed.

  Dade glanced at his watch and then twisted his arm to show Brenda. “I would assume class is in session.”

  “Still. Don’t leave a message demanding someone call you and then become unreachable.”

  They waved their badges at the officer sitting at the front desk, who motioned them deeper into the station. With no new victims in the past couple of days, the station was no longer at a fevered frenzy. Officers milled around the station with files, random deviants, and giant cups of coffee.

  When they reached the conference room, Dade entered first and flipped on the light. The fluorescent bulbs clicked on a few seconds later, bathing the room in a sterile white glaze. Brenda found herself trudging to the coffeemaker.

  “Did the two of you have any luck yesterday?” Dade asked as he leaned against the meeting table and studied the case board for the millionth time.

  “Nope. It beat being here, though,” Brenda chuckled.

  Dade raised his brows and crossed his arms across his chest. “Uh, yeah.”

  Brenda joined him
in front of the case board. “When’s everyone else getting here? Or do we have morning shift?”

  “Deacon said he’d be here by now. The rest of the crew should be here in the next half hour. I told them to grab a few extra minutes of sleep.”

  Brenda turned to give him a sickly sweet smile. “How nice of you.”

  “I want them rested and ready to go if something comes up. I’m done trudging through the Seattle rain for now.”

  Brenda laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true leader.”

  Dade rolled his eyes and shoved her hand away. “Get me some coffee, agent.”

  Brenda straightened and mock-saluted him on her way back to the coffee pot. She poured two cups and added their usual cream and sugar ratios. “So, is Deacon acting a little off lately?”

  “Lately?”

  “Good point,” Brenda chuckled. She carefully handed Dade his paper cup and they touched glasses before each downing a large gulp. “Really, though. Something’s up with him. He seems more on edge, agitated,” Brenda said between sips.

  Dade swirled his coffee around before knocking back the entire cup. “Probably has something to do with Tuesday,” he murmured as he glanced cautiously at the door.

  Brenda frowned at him.

  “Tuesday is Olivia’s birthday.” Dade kept his voice at a murmur, as if he expected James to suddenly appear.

  “Oh,” Brenda replied as she looked down into her empty coffee cup.

  Neither one of them spoke for a few moments. Dade picked at the rim of his cup with his thumbnail for a few seconds before Brenda sighed loudly and yanked it from his hand. She stomped over to the trash and tossed both cups in.

  “I just don’t understand why he hasn’t been able to find them,” Brenda said quietly as she walked back to Dade.

  Dade’s eyes widened as a brief moment of panic washed across his face. “I told you about that in confidence,” he hissed.

  Brenda swept the room with a wide-eyed scan. “I’m pretty sure we’re still the only ones here,” Brenda soothed.

  Dade’s chocolate eyes twinkled despite the glowering glare he fixed on his colleague.

  Brenda snorted a short chuckle then sobered. “I’m serious, though. Deacon’s FBI. How can he not find his own sister?”

  “Well,” Dade started, glancing at the door yet again, “if you know the right people and places to go, you can hide from anyone.” Someone laughed outside the conference room as they walked by. “For whatever reason,” Dade said a little more quietly, “Julia wants nothing to do with Deacon. And as much as he wants to believe he’ll find them, he’s eventually going to have to recognize that.”

  Brenda shook her head. “It’s just so sad.”

  “It’s part of what’s making Deacon act the way he is,” he said, glancing at Brenda, “That’s why I try to overlook most of his moodiness.”

  The click of multiple shoes drew toward the conference room. Brenda crossed back to the coffeemaker and quickly added more coffee grounds. Dade stood just as the door opened and James strode in, followed by three other silent agents.

  Dade dug his hands into his pockets and nodded at their leader. “Morning,” he greeted.

  James nodded back and dumped his bag into the chair at the head of the long table. “Nothing this morning?”

  “No, it’s been quiet.”

  James almost looked disappointed as he nodded and walked over to Brenda, who handed him a cup. He poured his coffee and glanced at Brenda. “Have you heard from Ada?”

  Brenda shook her head. “I was going to touch base with her later today.”

  James emptied three sugar packets into his cup and carefully stirred. Brenda watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying not to think about her conversation with Dade.

  “All right, everyone. Let’s look back through the victims’ files and try to find any physical similarities between their boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, whatever.” James barked as he made his way over to the case board. The other agents in the room divvied out case files and spread out around the table.

  Brenda and Dade exchanged looks from across the room. Dade nodded toward the door and Brenda gave him a small smile. She moved quietly toward the door and slipped out into the hallway.

  _____

  Ada burst into her office while she waited breathlessly for Brenda’s voice to come through the phone pushed against her ear. The moment class had ended, Ada’s phone had informed her of six missed calls from the agent.

  “Oh good, you’re not dead.”

  Ada straightened and hung up her phone as Brenda walked into the room. She was inwardly proud that she was no longer jumping at the agent’s unannounced arrivals. “I’m so sorry. I had to give a midterm. I should have mentioned it. I was hoping you would call me back before I had to get to class—”

  Brenda held up a hand. “Ada, breathe. It’s fine.” She lowered down into a chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I’m here now. Fill me in.”

  Ada pressed her palms together and sat against the edge of her desk. “The first victim was the only one killed at home, in private. All the others have been killed in public.”

  “We assumed that the first victim knew the killer. That would explain why there were no signs of a break-in or struggle.”

  “That’s what I figured, too,” Ada agreed. “What more do you know about the first victim? The file you gave me didn’t have much more than her name and the crime scene report.”

  Brenda shrugged. “Not much. She was new to the area, hadn’t really reached out to the neighbors. Not that I blame her, she lived in a pretty rough part of town.”

  “So, you talked to the neighbors?” Ada asked, her mind’s wheels whirring to life.

  “The ones we could find, yes. Once we rolled in, about half of those houses were suddenly vacant. That neighborhood doesn’t seem like they really enjoy having uniforms around.”

  Ada started pacing.

  Brenda watched her for a moment then took Ada’s place against the desk. “So, what was with the urgent calls? You’ve read these case files.”

  “Would it be possible to go to the first crime scene?” Ada blurted.

  Brenda blinked, surprised. “You want to go to a crime scene?”

  Ada nodded, still pacing. “There’s something there. Something that set this whole thing off.”

  Not in the mood to question her, Brenda pulled out her phone and tapped away. “I’ll get someone to pick us up.”

  “Good, good. This is good,” Ada mumbled as her pacing slowed.

  _____

  Brenda and Ada entered the faculty parking lot just as a black SUV rolled to a stop at the end of the sidewalk. Dade stepped out of the car and opened the rear passenger door for Ada.

  “Ready for a little field trip?” Dade asked the two women as they got into the car.

  Ada settled into her seat and buckled in. She looked toward the front of the car and wasn’t surprised to see James in the driver seat. He silently met her gaze in the rearview mirror for a moment then looked ahead as Dade got in and shut the door.

  “Why the sudden interest in Yesler Terrace?” James asked as he pulled out of the faculty parking lot.

  Ada turned and looked out at the city as they drove through it. “I was listening to a student’s final reading, and it made me think more about the first crime scene and how we might have missed something there.”

  Brenda reached across the seat and tapped her hand. Ada looked at her and Brenda widened her eyes in disbelief. “You didn’t tell me this was because of some student paper,” Brenda hissed at her, almost too low for Ada to hear.

  Confused, Ada shrugged and opened her mouth to reply, but Dade cut her off. “Must have been one hell of a final project to lead you to a break in the case.”r />
  “Actually, it was pretty terrible. But the subject matter got me thinking,” Ada replied.

  Dade chuckled and glanced back at Ada. “Speaking of writing, I read a couple of your books. You’ve got some great stuff there.”

  Ada flushed slightly. “You all really need to stop pretending to be fans,” she snorted. “The piles of unsold books lying around town are the ones being honest.”

  James cleared his throat as he turned down one of the shadier streets of Seattle. “We need to keep this trip quick. I have a meeting with the police chief in two hours.”

  All casual conversation ceased.

  A few minutes later, they came to a stop in front of a gray house wedged in the middle of a long row of gray houses. Ada stepped out of the car and looked up and down the street. She could picture this neighborhood years prior and imagined a much cheerier place. What were once warm and inviting homes now looked like weathered and damaged results of misuse and constantly changing owners. The whole street felt like a poster child for the broken window theory.

  James pushed through the front gate of the first victim’s house and strode up the concrete steps to the shambled porch, the rest of the group following him in silence. Taking the car key, he sliced through the crime scene seal on the front door in one clean swipe. He turned the faded brass doorknob and shoved the door open with a firm shoulder thrust.

  “Welcome to the Cheryl Adams murder scene,” James said as he stepped into the foyer of the house. He flipped a light switch and grimaced when nothing happened. “Guess the utilities are off already.”

  Ada couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding, not just on someone’s home but on their last moments on earth. She remained just inside the front door and surveyed the rooms around her. It looked like a small tornado of chaos had swept through the house. Dishes, clothes, and various odds and ends covered almost every surface. “Was the house like this three weeks ago?” she asked.

  James huffed a chuckle. “Homey, isn’t it?” He stepped over a crunched beer can and into the living room. “Cleanliness isn’t usually something a junkie worries about.”