by J. J. Stone
After the third picture, Ada swallowed roughly and turned back to the notebook in her hands. She attempted to ignore Dade’s detailed interpretation of the ligature marks by analyzing the seventh page in the notebook. As she skimmed yet another scribbled row, something seemed off about the first line of text. She flipped back to page six to compare, and her frown deepened.
Still studying the book, Ada reached out and tapped the nearest shoulder. “Look at this,” she mumbled as she traced her finger below a particularly odd row of scribbles.
The book left her hands and Ada resisted the urge to yank it back. She followed the book as James pulled it close to his face and scrutinized it. “What am I looking at?” he grumbled, obviously eager to return to the photos.
Ada leaned in as close as she dared and placed her finger along the fourth row on the page. “These are two different forms of handwriting.”
James, uncomfortable with their proximity, backed away a few centimeters from Ada. He tried to mask his move by faking a cough but Ada had already noticed. “Looks like two different people,” he confirmed.
James gave the notebook a few more seconds of scrutiny then passed the book to the CSI officer. “We’ll have our handwriting guy look at it,” he said to Ada without looking at her. He held his hand out to Dade for the stack of photos. “You were right about the trophies, by the way.”
Ada didn’t respond as James fanned the photos out like a hand of cards. He pulled two of the pictures out and held them side by side. “We can definitely pin Tina and Lana’s deaths on him,” he told her. “It looks like there’s another body after Lana, though.”
Tina’s lifeless body reclined in the backseat of a car would haunt Ada’s dreams for weeks to come, she was sure of it. Ada forced her eyes away from the photo. “Looks like you got your guy.”
James sifted the photos back into a neat stack and chuckled. “Don’t sound so excited.” He handed the photos to the CSI officer’s waiting hand and swirled his index finger in the air to Dade and Brenda. “Let’s get back to the station and start the wrap up.”
Ada led the way out of the room, happy for fresh air.
CHAPTER 15
“John Klinton the serial killer” was the only topic Ada heard for the week following John’s suicide. His story was all over the news and the subject of every hallway conversation, especially among her crime novelist students. Even Uncle Mike had called to get the juicy inside details from her as “research” for his next project. Ada chalked it up to pure fascination with a local serial killer.
Ada managed to return to her old life, for the most part. She had only had to spend one afternoon at the police station during the FBI’s closing pow-wows for the case, giving her statements and insights in relation to John’s parallels with the Gary Ridgway.
After that, she had been released back to being just a college professor. Something Ada thought would bring her some peace. Instead, she felt an unmistakable restlessness.
As she sat in the last class of the day, Ada’s mind began its now usual wandering. She was grateful that it was a student share day. It gave her the opportunity to space out under the guise of “getting into the story.” Horrible teaching methods, she knew, but a switch in her brain had flipped, and she couldn’t locate the emergency power cut.
Time slowed to a glacial pace. What felt like years passed before the class mercifully ended and her students filed from the room. Ada picked up her phone and checked it for texts, emails, any news from beyond the walls of the classroom. It was disappointingly still.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice echoed in the empty classroom.
Ada felt her lips part into an embarrassingly large smile. “Brenda!” she greeted breathlessly, repressing the urge to run across the room and bear-hug the agent.
Brenda returned Ada’s smile with almost equal wattage as she strode into the classroom. “Did I catch you at a good time?”
Ada rolled her eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend you don’t know my schedule. You know it better than I do.”
“I’m thorough,” Brenda shrugged as she reached Ada’s desk. Her smile slipped slightly as she touched a finger to the edge of the desk. “I, uh, came to say goodbye.”
Ada tightened her grip on her phone, trying to swallow down the tight ball of disappointment in her throat. “You’re leaving already?”
“Well, it has been about a week since the case closed,” Brenda replied, looking about as pleased as Ada felt. “We have other cases waiting for us back in DC.”
Ada nodded. “Of course.” A few moments of awkward nothing passed between them before Ada could bring herself to speak. “When do you leave?”
Brenda glanced at her watch. “I think we’re wheels up in two hours.”
Ada stood and took a step toward the door. Taking the hint, Brenda followed her out of the room. “So that’s it?” Ada asked as they stepped out into the bustling hallway.
Brenda nodded as she sidestepped around a group of girls. “James delivered the final statement at this morning’s press conference,” she replied. “You didn’t see it?”
“I’ve been in class all day,” Ada reminded her.
Brenda nodded, maneuvering around another group of squawking students.
Ada tried to think of something to say as they arrived at the building entrance. They paused in front of the glass doors, both women looking at their feet. Fed up with the uncomfortableness, Ada snapped her head up and blurted, “I’m really glad you were the one who got stuck with me.”
Relief flooded Brenda’s face as a warm grin graced her lips. “Good. I was afraid I was the only one who thought that.” She chuckled as she clapped a hand on Ada’s shoulder. “I know this wasn’t the most enjoyable experience for you, but I’m glad you stuck it out. I’d like to think it all worked out in the end.”
Ada nodded. “You were definitely the bright spot of the past few weeks.” She blushed and shook her head. “Listen to us. We sound like summer camp crushes.”
The two women shared a laugh, and then the silence returned. Brenda glanced at her watch again and clapped her hands together. “Well, I’ve got a plane full of antsy FBI agents to get to. Last thing I want to hear is Dade complaining about missing out on his DC weekend.”
“That does sound potentially miserable,” Ada joked. She waved her phone at Brenda. “If you’re ever in town again, don’t hesitate.”
“I won’t. I might even call to pick your brain every now and then if a case calls for some ‘Ada insight.’”
Ada grinned. “You know my hourly rate.”
Brenda rolled her eyes and took a step backwards. “I’ll see you later, Professor.”
Without hesitating, Ada stepped up to the agent and wrapped her in a tight hug. Brenda didn’t respond for almost three full seconds; then her arms returned the embrace. Ada pulled back a little and grinned, her eyes shining slightly. “Keep in touch. Even when you don’t have a case.”
Brenda nodded and gave Ada one last squeeze before stepping away. She walked a few paces then she turned on her heel and called back to Ada, “Oh, I almost forgot. Someone was waiting for you in your office.”
Ada groaned. “It’s probably my boss, wondering why I haven’t submitted grades in two weeks.” She gave Brenda one last sad wave, which the agent returned before continuing on her way to the exit. Ada swallowed the small lump that had bubbled up in her throat then headed toward her office.
_____
“I’m so sorry, sir, I ran into someone on the way here,” Ada gushed as she pushed her office door open. She was sure to quickly shut the door behind her, not wanting her coworkers to hear the verbal lashing she was undoubtedly about to receive.
She squared her shoulders and turned to face the sure-to-be hardened grimace of Dean Bridges then blinked stupidly for a few seconds when her
eyes discovered James Deacon waiting for her instead.
James furrowed his brow at her. “Since when did you start calling me ‘sir?’”
“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Ada bit back then winced at the acidity of her retort. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
James dismissed her with a wave as he leaned against the edge of her desk. “The plane won’t leave without me.”
Ada brushed past him to her desk and noticed a bag of coffee perched beside James. “Seattle souvenir?”
James picked up the bag and turned to face her. “A token of appreciation for your help.” He held the bag out to her.
As Ada accepted the coffee, she chuckled at the familiar bag. “Unbelievable.”
A look of slight uncertainty flashed across James’s face. “This is the one you had in your kitchen. Right?”
Ada nodded and tucked the coffee into her bag. “Exactly the one. You really can’t turn the FBI thing off, can you?” she teased.
“It’s probably part of my DNA now.” James glanced at something to the left of Ada, obviously feeling uncomfortable.
Ada tried to clear the air a little. “Brenda could’ve told me you were the one waiting. I would have gotten here sooner—”
“She suggested I surprise you.”
“Oh,” Ada blinked.
James cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “She also suggested I make sure you know how much we appreciated your help with the case.”
Ada gave him a half smile. “It was actually not as painful an experience as I thought it would be.”
James unexpectedly thrust his hand across the desk toward her.
Ada accepted his hand and blinked at his tight shake.
“I really do appreciate your expertise,” James said as he released his grip and plunged his hands into his pockets. “You really helped us make the big break.”
Ada shrugged. “I’m glad I was able to do something.” Her eyes flitted downward. “It was a nice reprieve from the classroom, actually.” She glanced back up with a coy grin. “So, I guess I should be thanking you. Even though there were some times I felt like strangling you.”
“Confessing to wanting to kill an FBI agent. Nice,” James said, fixing Ada with a stern glare. When Ada’s grin slipped, his lips parted into a teasing grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Relax. You’re not the first person who’s felt that way. Probably not the last, either.”
Ada exhaled a shaky laugh. “Probably not.”
James’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly silenced it. “I guess I should be going.”
“Thanks again for the coffee. And for putting up with me.”
“Likewise,” James said with a grin that Ada could only describe as devilish. “If you ever find yourself in DC, I’m sure the team would love to see you again.”
“Absolutely.” Ada held her hand up in an awkward small wave. “Have a safe flight.”
James nodded in farewell then turned to leave, crossing the office in three strides. He pulled the door open and gave her one last polite grin over his shoulder before he left. She caught herself listening to the click of his loafers on the hallway floor.
She reached back into her bag and removed the coffee. She held it to her nose and took a deep sniff. That was when she noticed something white jutting out from the bottom of the bag.
Ada tipped the bag over and James’s business card was there to greet her. She carefully pulled it free of the bag and studied it for a moment. When she flipped the card over, she discovered a single sentence scribed on the back. “Pleasure to work with you, Professor,” she read aloud.
She shook her head and tucked the card into her pocket.
_____
“Get lost?” Dade asked as James entered the plane cabin and ducked into his usual perch at the first table on the left.
James fastened his lap belt then removed the large manila envelope from his carry-on bag and dumped its contents onto the table before him. He pointedly ignored Dade’s flippant remark. “We can go,” he called to the captain hovering by the cockpit door.
As the plane taxied down the runway, Brenda and Dade joined James at his table and strapped into their seats. “Did she like the coffee?” Brenda asked carefully.
James nodded as he removed John Klinton’s notebook from the small pile of evidence. He settled back into his seat as the plane began its ascent.
_____
Ada pulled into her driveway and yanked the parking brake up. She grinned as Tiny’s head appeared in the window by the front door, his tongue wagging as he panted excitedly. Ada turned off the car and stepped out, leaving her work things in the passenger seat. It was the weekend; she’d get to that later.
She shut her door and leaned back against it. As she looked up at the sky, her thoughts strayed to her mother. She had surfaced in Ada’s mind countless times since the case had wrapped, both in her dreams and at unexpected times of the day. The first time it had happened, Ada was walking Tiny and their trek had taken them through a small park. A group of children were scurrying around the playground and one girl in particular caught Ada’s attention. She and her mother were swinging side-by-side, holding hands and giggling about nothing in particular.
Without provocation, Ada had wondered if she had ever shared a moment like that with her mother. Had they been able to create memories together that were now locked away somewhere in Ada’s mind? She had spurred Tiny away from the playground as her eyes welled, but the thought haunted her for the few days. A week later, she had a dream that she knew, as soon as it was over, was real. She had seen her mother crawling around the floor of what looked like Ada’s childhood bedroom, her face contorted comically as she growled ferociously. Small squeals of delight rang out with each step her mother took, and Ada knew instantly the squeals were coming from toddler Ada. Her mother reached her and swiftly tugged her against her chest in a giggling bear hug. As Ada awoke from the dream, she unmistakably felt that same hug enveloping her where she lay. Instead of panicking, Ada had squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the feeling would never go away.
What had unlocked this long-banished area of her memory, Ada couldn’t definitively say. She couldn’t help but muse at the timing, though. Maybe Uncle Mike had been right. Her time with the BAU seemed to have mentally pushed her through barricades she’d erected throughout her subconscious, leading her to a well of priceless moments in time that she had excommunicated long ago to save herself from the potential heartbreak. It was an unexpected gift that she would cherish forever.
Snapping out of her daydream, Ada pushed herself off the car, walked to the end of the driveway, and grabbed the mail from the mailbox, waving to a passing group of children on their bikes. They waved back then continued their furious race down the street toward the park.
Flipping through the sizable stack of envelopes, Ada strode up the sidewalk and climbed the porch steps. Before she reached the door, she stooped down to pick up the paper. Odd that it was here and not in with the mail like she’d requested.
A blue piece of paper jutted out from the tightly folded newspaper. Stuffing the mail underneath her arm, Ada unwound the newspaper and tugged the rogue piece of paper free. Uneasiness began to well in the pit of her stomach but she ignored it.
She carefully opened the folded piece of paper and squinted to read the impressively formal handwriting.
You must be very proud of yourself, Ada Brandt. The mind of a serial killer is a formidable path to journey down, but you handled it with finesse. I suppose it takes someone with intimate experience to really crack a killer. Your father is proud, I’m sure. I look forward to seeing how the FBI handles the next player.
Until next time,
Sakima
The paper fluttered to the porch with the rest of the mail. Every muscle in Ada’s body tensed.
A bush rustled on the other side of the porch, and Ada’s eyes shot toward it. Adrenaline flooded her veins and spurred her to action. She raced back to her car and barricaded herself inside.
Inside the house, Tiny barked, confused as to why Ada had teased him with the prospect of getting out of the house. Ada’s mind was racing nearly as fast as her heart. She brought her trembling hands to her face and fought to steady her breath before the black spots in her vision grew into a full-on faint.
As her mind cleared, she fished through her bag until she found her phone. Her right hand dug into her pocket and pulled out the now crumpled business card. Her left thumb pressed in the phone number.
_____
James scanned a page of the notebook then flipped over to the next. Every page so far was lined with numbers—most likely coordinates—and a coded note. Each page contained around four or five lines of this. The handwriting analyst had confirmed Ada’s hunch about two separate handwriting patterns. That meant John either had an accomplice or had happened upon this notebook and continued the work. James was not comfortable with either option. Both meant there was another killer out there.
An agent stepped up to the table and leaned toward James. “Sir, we have a call coming in from DC. Someone trying to reach you at your office line. She said it’s urgent.”
James cursed under his breath and slapped the notebook onto the table. He unhooked his lap belt and rose from his seat. He followed the agent to the front of the plane and picked up the phone. He waited for the agent to head back to the others before answering. “Agent Deacon speaking.”
_____
“He knows my name. He knows where I live,” Ada gasped into the phone as she continued her wide-eyed scan of the front of her house. Tiny was still barking.
“Ada?” James’s voice sounded like it was coming from a tin can. Understandable, seeing as he was probably over Colorado by now.