"We have a visitor," Jones announce before opening the door all the way for the man behind him to enter.
It was Kyle, dressed in a conservative off-the-rack business suit and tie. He carried a file folder and had a FBI badge hung from his neck on a lanyard. Kyle walked in and stood in front of Dan's desk. Jones followed and gently shut the door. He took up his usual spot; standing to the right of Dan's desk.
"And you are?" Dan asked as he leaned back in his chair.
"Kyle Banks, FBI. I'm a serial killer profiler, working out of the Sacramento office." Kyle held up his badge so Dan could read it.
After looking at the badge, Dan leaned back and started fiddling with a rubber band, a nervous habit he'd picked up as a new detective. He found it helped focus his mind.
"Okay, what can we do for the Bureau?"
Kyle sat without being invited and opened the file he was carrying.
"The Oberon case. It was flagged in our system when your lead detective entered the specifics with his initial report." Kyle fixed Dan with an eager look.
"Okay, so, I'm not lead on this case. Detective Jones is." Dan angled his head towards Jones. "I'm just observing, as the victim was my niece. My only niece."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Kyle turned to Jones. "Any updates yet?"
Jones took a seat next to the FBI agent. "Just that my interviews with her roommates indicated that she had gone missing from a party they attended. So far, everyone we've talked to can't recall seeing a thing."
"The murder scene from your victim fits a pattern. Wounds. Ligature marks on wrists and legs. Symbols cut into the forehead and face," Kyle produced several photos from the folder and gave it to Jones. "The markings are recent developments from this particular killer. Essentially same M.O. for several years, then he's starting carving those symbols."
Jones grimaced while looking at the images, then he placed the stack on Dan's desk. Dan picked up the stack and studied each image carefully. His face remained a mask,
"Where was this?" Jones asked.
"A small town named Fort Hancock, in west Texas. This was just last week. And week before that, a similar victim was found in Bull Head City, Arizona." Kyle explained.
"Sounds to me like this guy is heading west. You guys have anything on this guy?" Dan asked.
"I've been tracking this guy for a year now. I'm sure he's been at this for a lot longer. Most of these types began killing small animals when they were younger." Kyle explained. "When that wears off, they move up to humans."
"Tell us more about this man." Jones prompted.
"He's highly organized. He typically takes a victim in one place, and kills in another, possibly all set up to leave as little evidence as possible, then leave the body elsewhere, where it would be discovered easily."
"What type of place is he using to do all... this?" Dan asked.
"Either an abandoned house or possibly large building. Targets only late teen blondes. Goes all Blair Witch on the victims. So, it'd have to be an isolated place, where the screams won't be heard." Kyle consulted his notes. "In Bull Head City, the local police discovered he'd used an abandoned hardware store. Very little evidence was taken from the building, but one area was cleaned, which stood out in a huge area usually full of debris and dirt after being locked up for months."
"So, we do a search for large buildings up for sale?" Jones asked, and then he studied at Dan.
"Yes, get the team on that one. Check each property up for sale in a 10-mile area," Dan said.
"These symbols. Any idea what they mean?" Jones asked.
Kyle sat back. "The script used is an older version of Hebrew, but the words we deciphered are just gibberish. The symbols are common among practitioners of some forms of witchcraft, used to summon beings from hell."
"Are you certain this is our perpetrator? And that it is a male?" Dan asked pointedly.
"I'm very certain it's a male killer. Women simply don't do this, and it takes strength to move the bodies all over the area. We may find out this man has some connections to a death magic cult of some type. If I could have copies of your reports, I can workup the profile on this guy and see if it fits with the others." Kyle just sat and looked at Dan. "I think it will."
"If it fits, then what?" Dan asked.
"I can offer the FBI's help. Last few towns asked me to transfer the case to the Serial Killer task force." Kyle explained.
"I'm okay with it. Dan?" Jones looked at his partner.
Dan just nodded. Kyle stood and reached forward to Dan. He shakes Dan's hand. "Jones, go make some printouts of the file, and see that he has everything we have."
"Sure thing, boss." Jones and Kyle headed towards the door.
"Jones, hang on a second. Nice meeting you, Agent Banks." Dan looked at Jones. Jones stepped closer. Dan whispered, "after you make the copies, go check out our new-found friend from Sacramento. Call his boss. Make sure he didn't get that badge out of a box of cereal."
"What's up?" Jones looked back out the open door to where Kyle stood, waiting.
"Just a hunch. I get a tingling along the back of my neck. When I do, I've learned to pay attention."
Jones nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Dan leaned back in his chair and stared off into space. He caught himself and shook his head. He pulled the keyboard shelf out and opened a search engine.
He carefully typed in the word: "sigil" and was rewarded with page after page on the magic symbols. How to make one, how to use one and the origins of sigils, but nothing on demons.
He caught himself and slid the keyboard shelf closed. He sat back and frowned.
"Dan, old boy," he muttered. "Can't let some crazy old woman distract you. Demons and gods are myths, they do not exist."
He stole a look at the screen again. He muttered again and switched off the monitor. He opened a folder and began reading.
***
The meeting room began filling up early. Chief Paterson called an "end of shift" meeting to discuss the Oberon case, as it was becoming known in the station.
Peterson was a stocky man, late 50s, his hair a mass of gray curls combed back from a large forehead. His bushy eyebrows were not quite totally gray, and framed his deep set brown eyes over a thick nose. He was a brawler in his early years, and his nose appeared as if it'd been broken so many times, the ER doctors simply gave up and let it stay crooked.
He called the meeting to order by walking behind a plain lectern, and clearing his throat. Dan and Jones took up seats near the front. Officers from all shifts took seats.
San Marin had a medium sized police department, but only one central station. The city employed 60 full time officers, including detectives and traffic officers. Add in support staff, dispatch and crime scene technicians, the city employed almost 150 people. Just about everyone was in the meeting. Even supporting staff and off-duty officers attended. The door was kept open and faces were looking in the large windows along the main hallway.
"Alright, everyone. Settle down." Peterson started, then he halted. He looked back to Jones. "Detective Jones will update everyone."
Jones passed Paterson on his way to the front of the room. The chief sat next to Dan and fixed his attention on Jones.
"What we have so far is fuck-all." Jones hit a switch on the lectern and the lights dimmed. A projector cast a bright light onto the screen to Jones's left. An image of Brianna filled the screen. "The M.E.'s report just showed up. Doctor McKenna performed a class 'A' autopsy. In record time. Cause of death, gross blood loss via a knife wound to the trachea, which exposed the carotid artery," Jones spoke evenly, then looked towards Dan. Dan was keeping his 'poker face'. Jones continued, "The mutilations were performed pre-mortem, meaning she was still alive when she was cut."
Jones paused again. The next slide was the of the scene. In all its gruesome glory. "I had three teams out canvassing the areas next to the park's jogging path. No one reported any usual activity. No dogs woke anyone up barking. We struck out.
"
Jones brought up another image. A map of the area. "From what Lieutenant Lanahan said, he encountered Miss Oberon on this street, she was with two friends and enroute to a college party at this house. I am still awaiting field reports from the team checking out who attended the party. My interrogation of the victim's roommates did not shed any light on the possibly perpetrator. Next item is to canvass out and look for all possible areas where he could have taken the victim."
Jones surveyed the crowd. "Hansen? You led the team, anything new to report?"
A stocky man with sandy blond hair cut in a flat top stood. He consulted his notes. "Jones, I personally took a tour with two real estate agents, checking every empty large building in the area, including going outside the city limits. San Benito sheriff's department is cooperating. They report there's so many vacant buildings, it'll take a while to check them all out." Hansen slapped his notebook shut and looked around. He locked eyes with Dan, and said, "Sorry, Dan. Doing the best we can, buddy."
Dan held up a hand. He stood and surveyed the room. "Let's treat this as any homicide. Don't try to worry about getting me upset. I'm plenty upset for everyone." He sat back down, and met several sets of eyes in the front row. The whole room had his back.
The rest of the meeting went as predicted. As it broke up, several fellow officers stopped briefly by Dan to offer sympathy. After everyone had left, he was still seated and turned to look at the image still displaying on the screen. A map of San Marin. Jones switched off the projector.
"What's on your mind?" Jones asked.
"Isn't there an abandoned motel towards the coast?" Dan turned back to Jones.
"I think so, the old highway to SLO," Jones remembered.
"What say you and I take a fast run out and check it out?"
"Give it to Hansen, he's checking all possible abandoned locations."
"Hansen is a good guy, but he's lazy. You heard his report, he's only checking places up for sale," Dan pointed out. "The killer might have used a place that is just abandoned, and not up for sale."
Jones sighed, then relented. "Let me check out a car."
***
Before the hour was out, Dan and Jones were outside the small city and heading towards the Pacific Ocean. The old road unspooled under the beige unmarked patrol car as they sped westward.
After thirty minutes, a small motel courtyard appeared. Jones slowed down and rolled into the U-shaped motel. A collection of small cabins, all facing inwards to an empty pool.
A large wooden sign was hung over the office. "Available for FILMING!"
"That explains why this place isn't not in any real estate listing," Jones said as they looked at the motel.
Dan climbed out and started walking. Jones hurried to catch up and followed as Dan went to each cabin and checked the door. They had started at the end, cabin 12. When they had reached the other side of the U, Dan stopped and examined a door knob.
"Scratches on the door frame," Dan pointed out. Jones bent to look.
"Could be kids looking for a spot to make out," Jones explained.
"Dude, kids today don't make out, they hook-up." Dan stood back and touched the door with his toe. The door swung inwards. He squinted through the cracked door.
He stepped back and motioned to the open door. Jones stepped to the crack and looked inside. The room was spotless. No dust. No litter. The mattress rested against a wall, and every surface looked as if it had been cleaned recently.
"Kids hooking up don't leave such a clean area." Dan went back to the car, dialing his cell. "We'll need a search warrant. I'll let you handle that, since you're lead. I'll see who owns this place."
***
Jones and Dan leaned against the trunk of the unmarked patrol car, watching as the techs processed the motel room. Jones looked down at his watch, then back to the other people working.
"Need to be somewhere?" Dan asked.
"Just timing them, see if they'll finish before sundown," Jones complained.
"Better call Rhonda then, tell her you'll be late."
"You do it. She scares me," Jones confessed.
"She's your wife, dude," Dan said with a grin. "Scares me, too."
The door was wide open and the techs were in Tyvek suits with covers on their shoes. One came out of the room and took off the shoe covers and started towards Dan and Jones. Jones knew the man, Larry Montgomery, a skinny guy who was with San Bernardino sheriff's department. He was holding a red evidence bag.
"You find something?" Jones asked.
Montgomery held the bag out for Jones. Dan intercepted the bag and gave Jones a look. Dan examined it, and then passed it to Jones. Inside the bag was a small piece of paint with some discoloration in the center.
"A small amount of adhesive. I took it off a wall, it was in a corner, up high," Montgomery explained. "We also found a small sliver of black plastic, but otherwise? The whole place is clean. Beyond clean, it's damned near sterile."
Jones eyed the thin man, and asked, "What are you thinking?"
"Someone 'Dextered' the room," Montgomery said.
"'Dextered'?" Jones asked.
"That old TV show, about the serial killer in Miami?" Montgomery explained. "All of us Tech geeks love it."
"Nothing else?" Dan interrupted.
"Like I said, it's clean. I mean, clean, operating room clean," Montgomery told the detectives. "I almost admire the guy. Not too many people have the patience to clean that thorough."
Jones moved away from the patrol car and gave Montgomery the bag. "Get us the report by tomorrow morning."
The skinny man nodded and went back to the motel room.
"Well?" Jones asked.
"I think we're looking at another cop," Dan suggested.
"Yeah," Jones agreed, opening the car's door. "Bastard's going to be hard to catch, too."
Dan took one more look at the team working on the room, then opened his door. He sat next to Jones as the car started.
CHAPTER TEN
The Furies House
The living room was painted maroon, adorned with well used weaponry from by-gone eras. One wall is devoted to three ancient breastplates. One breastplate is a deep black, another is maroon and one is patinaed bronze. The leather harnesses are worn and darkened by age. Displayed alongside the breastplates are weapons that should be in a museum: A doru, a bronze battle sword and a bow with a quiver of arrows.
This is the house occupied by the Furies. Like all pandimensional residences, décor tended to change depending on the whims of the occupants.
A shimmering began in one corner, Thanatos emerged, followed by Brianna. He took off his hat and looked around, "Anyone home?"
Tisiphone entered from a back room, a ball python wrapped around her neck. "Hey pops! What's happening?"
"Please don't call me that, Tisiphone. I bring a petitioner." He motioned to Brianna, who moved forward. "Tisiphone, this is Brianna, victim of a horrendous murder."
Tisiphone smiled and nodded her head towards Brianna. Then she lifted the snake up and gave it a quick kiss on the snout.
"Brianna, what is it you wish from the Furies?" Tisiphone asked, tucking the small snake back into her hair.
Brianna looked towards Thanatos.
"Just say what you want, the process is quite simple," Thanatos explained. "In the old days, we used to have to go talk to some god at their temple."
"Think of it as paperwork reduction," Tisiphone added.
"Alright," Brianna started. "He says I can't go to where I belong until my killer is caught, right?"
"That's how it works," Tisiphone said. "Even if the cops catch him, you stay in a state of limbo, usually where you are buried, until the killer dies. We speed up the process."
They were interrupted when Alecto walked in from another direction. Alecto pulled up short, staring at Brianna. She walked closer and studied her. "Woah, who did this to you?"
"A man who picked me up at a party." Brianna whispered.
&nbs
p; "Not a creepy uncle, deranged cousin or depraved brother? A nephew?" Alecto asked.
"No, I'd never seen this man before. But he had these intense eyes, though."
Alecto stepped back as Megaera appeared at the top of the staircase, wearing a very a tight silk top with a flowing white skirt and sandals. She descending quickly.
"Meg, we need your help with this one." Alecto asked.
Meg stopped in her tracks. She cocked her head to Alecto. "So, who's the ghost?"
"A petitioner," Alecto whispered. "And don't call them ghosts. We've talked about this."
Megaera got closer and studied Brianna's face. "Fuck me running, who the hell did this to you, kid?"
"Some guy. I think my roommates got a picture of him. They like to get photos of me being sick on guys. They have a lot of followers on the internet."
"Nice roommates," Tisiphone said. "What's with the marks?"
Thanatos shrugged. "I'd hoped you might know. In some circles, they call those markings 'sigils'."
"The guy who did this is one sick puppy," Alecto remarked. "Megaera, can you help?"
"Sure." Megaera reached out and touched Brianna's face. A blue light jumped out from her hand and across Brianna's face, concentrating around the markings. The light grew more and more intense, and then faded, along with the markings.
"There, you're good." She looked at her sisters. "We done? I'm heading out."
Megaera shimmered and faded away.
Tisiphone looked at Alecto. "Where's she heading dressed like that?
"To find out why that mortal saw her." Alecto replied.
"Dressed like that? She has other ideas." Tisiphone then turned to Brianna. She shook her head and glanced at Thanatos. "Rules are rules, Pops. It needs to be a blood relative."
"These types usually get started by killing someone close." Thanatos replied.
"True," Tisiphone said. She turned to Brianna, "Honey, you have to find out if this guy ever killed a relative. Then, we're in business."
Brianna looked around, confused. She locked eyes with Alecto, pleading for help.
"Thank you. I'm off now. There's a fatal bus accident in Ohio that needs my attention." Thanatos lightly fitted his hat back on this head and then faded from view.
Angels of Vengeance Page 9