An officer raised a hand. Thor acknowledged him.
He introduced himself as George Hardwick and said, “We’re all aware that the Fairy Tale Killer murdered a doctor and escaped from Kansas. We’ve heard there is speculation that he’s here. Do you have any reason—of which we’re not aware—to think this man might have come to Alaska? From what we’ve seen, there’s no indication that the man was ever in Alaska or knows anything about Seward or Black Bear Island.”
“There is no forensic reason at this time to believe that the Fairy Tale Killer has come here,” Thor said. “Kansas is a long way away. The man wouldn’t have had a full day to reach Alaska and he’s being sought by law enforcement agencies everywhere. Our victims’ display doesn’t resemble the displays of the Fairy Tale Killer in any way.” He hesitated. “However, in theory, it is possible that he’s come here. It is possible that his end goal in displaying his previous victims wasn’t to make them beautiful, but to cause sensationalism and earn a moniker. I believe the press has already dubbed this killer the ‘Media Monster.’ We all know that talk on the street compares the positioning of Miss Carson on Black Bear Island to that of the Black Dahlia—impossible to see her without that image coming to mind. As to Natalie’s murder, we think he had something in mind. Unfortunately, there have been a number of decapitation murders in history, so we’re not sure if he is or isn’t going for a theme that has to do with history, or perhaps movies—or gruesome historical murders that have been portrayed in movies.”
“You mean, you really think this guy—this Tate Morley guy—might have gotten up here?” another officer asked.
“No, there’s nothing that says that it is him. But, there’s also nothing that says that it’s not him. At this point, anything is speculation. We have to keep our eyes open, be exceptionally vigilant and, yes, warn young women,” Thor said.
“We’ll be doing that in a press conference this afternoon,” Enfield told the assembled crowd. “Right now, we’re keeping eyes on the Wickedly Weird Production Company, and—to a lesser extent—the folks who were to be interviewed on the island. Unless all three men with the theatrical company suddenly became sickly homicidal together, they’re in the clear—background checks on the three come up with nothing but clean slates. We’re keeping an eye on them for their safety.”
“You have all received sheets on Tate Morley. They have gone out across the country,” Thor said. “He is capable of being a physical chameleon. He escaped one of his scenes dressed as a nun, one as a clown, and another as simply stoned out. Again, there’s nothing that suggests he did come here, but, again, be vigilant.”
When the meeting was over, they spoke with Brennan and Enfield briefly.
Enfield believed that Thor was right; they needed a representative on the island from now until it was determined to be unnecessary.
“Get techs checking up on Marc Kimball for me, too, please, will you, Director?” Thor asked.
“Kimball?” Enfield was surprised.
“He’s back on the island,” Jackson said.
“I know, of course. Detective Brennan told me that Kimball arrived at the police station soon after the news of a death on the island reached him. Very distraught. You realize that legally, it’s all very complicated. He owns the island. Wickedly Weird rented the island. We can claim parts of it as a crime scene, but—without brute un-American force—we are beholden to him to cooperate as far as searches and use of the Mansion and Alaska Hut are concerned. Legally, I’m not sure what happened with the Wickedly Weird Productions crew’s contract. Best at the moment to get done what we need to get done with the cooperation of Wickedly Weird and Marc Kimball.”
“Sir, with all due respect,” Jackson said, “we understand that. But it is curious that the man showed up so quickly.”
“Amen,” Detective Brennan muttered.
“I simply believe that his whereabouts immediately before the deaths would be nice to know,” Thor said.
“Absolutely. We are running a time check on Kimball,” Enfield agreed.
“When he’s in Seward, he usually heads out to the island immediately—that’s what the tabloids tell us,” Detective Brennan said. “So where was he when the killing was going on?”
“I’m pretty damned sure you’re barking up the wrong tree with Kimball,” Enfield said. “A man like that…odd behavior would have been reported by now.”
“Describe ‘odd behavior,’” Thor murmured.
“Criminal behavior,” Jackson said.
“Let’s face it. He’s on the list of the world’s wealthiest men—he can buy a lot of discretion. Still, it’s not a matter of me suspecting him—it’s really a ‘let’s eliminate him’ quest,” Thor said.
Enfield looked at Jackson curiously. “I’m interested, Crow. You manage your own team of investigators now—several units, I believe. Shouldn’t you be managing them? No disrespect meant, but I have to assume you’re here because of Tate Morley, too?”
Jackson nodded. Watching the interaction, Thor realized that Jackson had reached to the top for permission to come out here and involve himself in this investigation. Enfield had to be wondering what kind of pull Jackson had to get his way so quickly in a Bureau often filled with red tape.
Jackson smiled. “Yes, sir. When it comes to Tate Morley, I have to be hands-on.”
Detective Brennan studied Jackson and shrugged. “If it could be this man and you’ve hunted him before, I say all hands on deck.”
“But,” Enfield asked, “wouldn’t it have made more sense for you to be hands-on in Kansas?”
Jackson gave him a rueful smile. “I can’t say that I do know where Tate Morley is now, sir, but I would bet my eyeteeth that he’s no longer in Kansas.”
“No one is here for a pissing match,” Thor said. “Sir—”
Enfield laughed. “I’ve heard about the Krewe of Hunters. Unorthodox methods—using the dead for witnesses, some say. Intuiting from ghosts or revenants or whatever. Well, I know you are an assistant director—field director—in your own right, taking a backseat here since you know Thor and don’t know the terrain and he knows it especially well. And I don’t care if you talk to walls, dogs or elephants. Get this guy—whoever the hell he is.” He hesitated. “We’ll have forensic teams on the island for another few days. I don’t know why the killer would hang around now, but if you still seem to think it’s important to be out there, I’ll go with your instinct.”
“We found where he butchered Amelia Carson, sir. I think we may find his hideout, as well,” Thor said.
“We’re working on recovery of the video from the hotel—my guys are cleaning it up and enhancing it now. It will be ready in a few hours. You might want to see it before you head back,” Brennan said.
“We will want to see it. Thank you,” Thor told him.
“I’ve looked at it—poor quality,” Brennan said. “Nothing but people coming and going, all looking fine and normal. But the video doesn’t even cover the elevators. Still, one man may see something that others don’t.” Brennan’s face tightened with an edge of aggravation. “And the island is covered for the moment at the least. Mike Aklaq is there, right? And I have people finishing up at the Mansion with hours and hours of film to process, only to prove it’s all fake!”
“Thank God for science and talented techs,” Thor said. “Thing is…I know that island. I was once one of those obnoxious kids who liked to sneak out there and drink beer and build a bonfire. If there is anything out there, I believe I’m the one who can find it.”
Enfield nodded. “All right, just take it in shifts, and make sure you report to me, as well.” He shook his head, eyeing them both. “I’m no clairvoyant,” he added, “but I’ve been around awhile. Killers like this don’t suddenly see the light. Do whatever you have to do. Use any method. Stop him—before he kills again.”
/> CHAPTER 8
Clara couldn’t help looking around the restaurant. She was afraid that Amelia Carson was going to make an appearance.
But Amelia was not in the restaurant. She and her cast mates ordered their food. Clara began to relax, but she only half listened to the conversation going on around her.
She hoped that Amelia wouldn’t arrive. She wasn’t afraid of the ghost anymore. Amelia was lost—she needed help. Clara wanted to give her that help.
She just hoped that she didn’t wind up appearing to talk to walls herself.
“I really hope that we actually get to do this show,” Simon said wistfully.
“Of course we’ll get to do the show,” Clara said.
“We didn’t get to do the last one,” Ralph reminded her.
“Yes, but that was different,” Clara said.
They all looked at her. “It was different!” she assured them.
“I guess so. I was so happy to be here! See Alaska,” Simon said.
“Well, we are seeing Alaska,” Larry reminded them.
They all fell silent. Larry drummed his fingers on the table. “So. You’re going to go back and stay on the island, huh, Clara?”
“Yeah.”
“Just watch out. I mean really watch out. Not just for the killer—watch out for Kimball! He’s looking at you like he’s a wolf and you’re a lamb,” Ralph warned.
“Ralph, maybe the guy just appreciates theater,” Clara said.
“He didn’t pay any attention to me,” Ralph said.
“He might have realized you and Larry were a duo,” Clara told him.
“No, no, I’m not a duo with anyone and I’m heterosexual and I can tell you—wolf looking at a lamb,” Simon said, nodding his head sagely.
“Well, don’t worry. I can’t stand the guy,” Clara said. “He gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah, but he’s staying on his island, right?” Ralph asked.
Clara shrugged, feeling acutely uncomfortable.
“She’s got Jackson and Thor—she’ll be all right,” Simon said.
Ralph grinned. “Jackson—and Thor. So, last time, she gets the married agent. This time…hey, what do we know about this Thor guy? And who names their kid Thor?”
“He’s of Norse descent,” Simon said. “Probably a common name. Like Jesus if you come from a Spanish-speaking country.”
“He looks like a Thor,” Larry said.
“You look like a Thor!” Ralph told him with pride and affection.
“Um,” Larry said, smiling. “No, but, I mean, he really looks like a Thor.”
“You two are kind of beautiful together,” Simon said. “Really,” he added, laughing. “You’re both just exceptionally cool-looking people. And he’s not married.”
“Guys, please!” Clara begged.
“Sure. Tell me that you haven’t noticed the man!” Simon said.
“I’ve noticed the man. I noticed him—right after I noticed a body in the snow!” Clara reminded him.
Ralph waved a hand in the air. “Clara—bad things happen in life. But we move forward. We seize what moments we can!”
“That’s kind of melodramatic,” Simon told him.
“Life is melodramatic!” Ralph claimed.
“Both agents are excellent—wait! All three agents are great. Mike Aklaq is cool, too,” Clara said.
“Ah, yeah, but it’s different with you and Thor,” Simon commented, taunting her with a subtle smile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clara said.
“Well, of course she doesn’t. She’s Clara!” Ralph said. “Dear, dear, dear child! You never notice. Now, of course, you have noticed Marc Kimball because he practically drips slime when he’s around you. But! You should see it when you and Special Agent Thor Erikson are together!” He demonstrated, flicking his fingers in the air. “Sparks! You share something.” He leaned toward her, his elbow on the table. “Let it happen, Clara, let it happen. I’m telling you…”
“Stop. We started off with him tackling me in the snow and he really hasn’t been all that nice. Kind of a dickhead, really,” Clara said. “He’s pretty cold. Hard-core FBI.”
“Damned good-looking dickhead,” Larry noted.
“I found him to be very courteous,” Ralph said. “Just passionate—which is very good. He’s looking for a killer.”
“It is quite simply basic nature,” Simon told Clara. “Men are horrible because of biology—scatter as much seed as you can with anyone. Women are selective. They have only so many eggs—gotta get those puppies fertilized by the best there is. And I’ve heard that a man’s scent is something that kind of warns a woman if he’d fight for her or not. Supposed to be huge in the chemistry of two people.”
“Sparks, sparks, sparks!” Larry said.
“And he does smell really good,” Ralph said.
“Guys! Stop with the smells and the sparks. The waitress is coming!” Clara said. And, with her cheeks reddening, she realized that she’d never been so happy to see food arrive.
But while the others forgot their teasing conversation, Simon did not. He reached across the table and took her hand.
“I’m being serious now. We like to tease you about Erikson, yes. But hang with him and Jackson, please. And watch out for Kimball,” he said quietly. “There’s something about him…well, there’s something about him that just isn’t right.”
* * *
Jackson and Thor left the station.
A company car had been left for their use.
Thor slid into the driver’s seat and looked at Jackson. “You have Clara’s number, right?” he asked.
Jackson smiled. “I do. You’re driving—I’ll call.”
Thor listened as Jackson asked questions, since the phone wasn’t on speaker. “An officer is still on duty in the restaurant? We’ll be no more than another thirty minutes.”
Jackson nodded, repeated the questions and relayed the answers. “She’s fine. She’s having dinner in the Hawthorne’s restaurant with her friends, the officer is great—and she’s anxious to speak with us.”
“Does she know something else?”
Jackson asked the question and turned back to Thor. “She repeated that she’s having dinner with her friends.”
She didn’t want to speak in front of the others, Thor realized.
“We’ll be there soon,” Jackson said.
“Let’s go straight to her. I can go by my house to get a few things after we see her,” Thor said.
Jackson smiled slightly, looking down.
“She could be in danger,” Thor said.
“She didn’t sound as if she was in any danger. She’s at the hotel with three friends and an officer on duty. She’ll be all right,” Jackson said.
“Let’s get her anyway—it never hurts to make certain of anything.”
“Of course,” Jackson said. “I’m surprised Enfield didn’t argue about her coming back out there with us.”
“I think you’d manage to one-up his authority if it came to that,” Thor said, glancing over at his old partner. Crow was a decade older, but he hadn’t changed much. Even as a young agent, he’d been cool and cautious—able to act in the blink of an eye, but just as capable of thinking.
“It’s not me,” Jackson told him, half smiling as he looked over at him. “The acting director of the Krewe—Adam Harrison—answers only to the director of the FBI. Adam was finding the right people to get things done around the country before he became official and started the Krewe. I was his first guinea pig. Adam had his eye out at all times for the right people. He is a bit of a red tape magician—when we need something, we turn to him.” He was quiet for a minute. “Adam knew about Tate Morley, and he knew about my role i
n that investigation and that I’d been partners with you. So, there it is.”
“Well—nice,” Thor told him. “I knew a bit about the Krewe. Good that you’re here.”
“Right or wrong as far as the Fairy Tale Killer goes, it’s good to be working this with you,” Jackson said. “And…I’m glad I’m here for Clara.”
Thor glanced at him quickly. “You are just friends, right? I mean, I’m not missing something here that I should be seeing. I heard that you were married to a fellow agent. I don’t imagine the man I worked with not being…monogamous.”
Jackson didn’t take offense. “We’re just friends, good friends—I guess circumstances made it so. And yes, I’m married to a fellow agent, Angela Hawkins. She’s a whiz at management, at finding what is needed, at sending the right agents out to the right place at the right time. When I need information that the local people can’t give me in seconds, I always call back to the Krewe offices.” He hesitated. “I’ve actually thought about you in the last years, even discussed you with Adam. But while we work with a few satellite offices, Alaska wouldn’t be in the mix right now.”
Thor was silent.
He thought that Jackson—and the mysterious Adam Harrison—might ask him into the unit.
It was something he would consider.
Except…
He kept thinking that he had to find the truth for Mandy, who had haunted their dreams, and for the other victims.
And most important…
There was Clara Avery.
They reached the Hawthorne. They stepped out of the car and hurried into the old hotel. It had been built in 1905 by an Emile Hawthorne, an old New Englander who had come to Alaska to work on the railroad line right after Seward had been founded. Hawthorne had fallen in love with the scenery—unbeatable almost anywhere, with the rugged mountains rising to one side and the glistening beauty of the waters of Resurrection Bay on the other.
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 6: Haunted Destiny ; Deadly Fate ; Darkest Journey Page 44