by Alexa Grace
His cell phone buzzed.
“Blake Stone.”
“Blake, this is Karen Katz. I meant to tell you something at the boat ramp, but I forgot.”
“What’s that?”
“There was a latent print on that syringe you gave me that was filled with Rohypnol.”
“Are you sure? The perp was wearing latex gloves.”
“He must not have been wearing them when he filled the syringe,” Karen reasoned.
“I hope you’re not kidding me, because that’s the best news I’ve gotten in a while.”
“Nope, I never kid about forensics. I just sent it to IAFIS and should have results within the hour.”
“Excellent. Jennifer and I are headed to the office soon. See you there.”
He’d barely gotten his cell phone back in his pocket when Jennifer appeared in the waiting room, waving a doctor’s release form in the air.
<><><>
Megan Brennan played an old disco CD and danced around her kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a quart of milk, a bowl of potato salad, mayonnaise, and slices of turkey, laying each item on the counter. She snagged the loaf of bread and began making turkey sandwiches.
It was Saturday and her husband had made mad, crazy love to her a few hours before. Tim had just called to say he’d be home for lunch, and she intended to feed him a delicious meal, then seduce him until he dragged her back to their bedroom.
Megan heard the doorbell, so she wiped her hands on a dishcloth and walked through the living room to the front door.
Opening the door, she stood face-to-face with a young man whose ruggedly handsome face was vaguely familiar.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brennan. From the look on your face, I’m guessing you don’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“I’m Damon Mason. Remember, you came to my dad’s funeral.”
Dick Mason’s son? How could she have forgotten? “I’m so sorry, Damon. Of course, I remember you.”
“If I could just have a minute of your time,” he began, nervously glancing at a truck that sped down the street.
Before Megan could respond, he pushed past her standing in the foyer, and walked into the living room. She’d intended to tell him she was too busy this morning to chat, but as long as he was here, she decided to sit with him in the living room to listen to what he had to say. Maybe the poor guy was still upset about his father’s death. Megan closed the front door and entered what was now a darkened living room. Why had Damon closed her window blinds?
Once her eyes adjusted to the change in light, she noticed he stood near the sofa, smiling from ear-to-ear. There was something about his smile that conflicted with the evil glint in his eyes, and sent a shiver up her spine. He pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a long hypodermic needle. Before Megan could scream, he plunged it into her neck, her vision pixeling before going solid black as she slumped to the floor.
<><><>
Back at the office, Jennifer fired up her computer, went to her email, and groaned at the number of messages she’d received after missing two days of work. It took her an hour to read and respond to each one.
Though she didn’t think she’d find anything, Jennifer checked Brianna’s bank records for any withdrawals after she went missing, but found no activity at all. She would have been surprised if she’d found anything. Brianna’s killer didn’t want her money; he wanted her to suffer, for some sick reason known only to himself.
Then Jennifer crossed her fingers and checked for cell phone activity. If Brianna’s cell phone had been turned back on, they could track her through her phone’s GPS. No such luck. There had been no use of the phone since around the time Brianna disappeared. The frustration tore a hole in her stomach. How many more women would die before they caught their killer?
Jennifer sent Blake a text, asking for Carly’s phone number. She couldn’t let Carly leave town without talking to her. Jennifer doodled on a piece of paper as she waited for Blake to text her Carly’s phone number. Previously, he had briefed her on Carly’s ViCAP findings. There was something about the murders in Ohio that tugged at her brain. A beep sounded to announce Blake’s text with Carly’s number.
Jennifer reached Carly on her first try. “Carly, I’m sorry you have to leave so soon.”
“Hey, I’m happy to be off administrative leave. Not having a case was making me a little crazy.”
“Carly, thank you for all the work you did on our case.”
“All I want is for the information to help you find your killer,” Carly responded. “Jennifer, Blake told me about how your killer deviated from his usual behaviors with Brianna’s murder.”
“Yes, he mentioned that.”
“Your killer didn’t take time with Brianna to torture her, as was his preference. Therefore, it’s unlikely he got his usual sexual satisfaction from her killing. That concerns me, as does the fact he dumped her body in a lake, as opposed to posing her at the site where she was abducted. He may be losing control.”
“What does that mean?” Jennifer asked.
“It means something happened to knock him out of his comfort zone. Something freaked him out, and I fear he’ll take risks he wouldn’t ordinarily take. He’ll become more dangerous.”
“Good. I want him to make some mistakes that will help us catch him.”
“Jennifer, why do you think he focused on you? He broke into your home to leave Catherine’s cell phone. And at great risk, he tried to get to you in the hospital,” said Carly.
“I don’t know, and believe me, I’ve thought about it. Until Evan Hendricks’ shooting, the media did not connect my name with the case. So how could he know I was assigned to it?”
After a moment, Carly said, “Please take extra precautions for your safety. He will come for you again, sooner than later.”
“Don’t worry about me. Despite what my dad and Blake may think, I can take care of myself.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t take any walks by myself in your area parks anytime soon,” joked Carly half-heartedly. She didn’t want to think about anything happening to Jennifer. It would destroy her brother.
“Wish you could stay longer so we could spend more time together,” Jennifer lamented.
“That makes two of us. Maybe you and Blake could fly to Florida when all this is over.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Before we hang up, Jennifer, I have to ask you to promise to do something.”
“What?”
“Tell my brother you’re in love with him. He needs to know.”
<><><>
Tim got out of his car and had his keys out to open the back door when he realized it was standing ajar. That’s odd. But he dismissed the tingling in the back of his neck by reasoning Megan may have gone to the garage for something, and thought she’d closed and locked the door. Tim slipped into the kitchen and called out for Megan. He noticed the food on the counter, rolled up a piece of turkey, and bit off a chunk. Wandering into the front of the house, he noticed the darkened living room.
“Megan, I’m home. Hey, what’s going on in the living room? We never have the blinds closed.” His wife loved sunlight. As soon as she woke up in the morning, she opened the blinds and draperies on every window in the house. The only time they were closed was at night, and that time she was in the hospital with her heart attack.
He stepped into the foyer where he noticed the front door was unlocked. Hell, Megan was more security-conscious than he was. First the back door, now the front? There was no way she’d leave either door unlocked. He froze. The alarm slammed into his stomach like a gut-punch. Something was very, very wrong. He pulled out his service weapon.
“Megan! Where are you?” he shouted as he raced up the stairs to the second level. He continued to shout Megan’s name as he checked each bedroom and bathroom without finding her.
Tim sprinted down the stairs to the first floor, to the den, then the family
room where the flat-screen TV above the fireplace was on, but no Megan. He ran back to the kitchen, glancing at the items lining the counter.
Dashing out the back door, he went to the garage and hoisted up the door. Megan’s car was still inside. After searching the back yard, Tim went to the front, looking up and down the sidewalk.
He moved to Don and Nicole French’s house next door and pounded on the door. When Don answered, he asked, “Have you seen Megan?”
“No, but I’ve been working in the basement on a new bookcase all morning.” He called out for his wife who came to the door.
Nicole smiled when she saw who was at the front door. “Hi, Tim. Good to see you.”
Her husband slipped his arm around her. “Honey, have you seen Megan this morning? Tim’s looking for her.”
“I haven’t seen Megan, but I noticed you had a visitor earlier,” Nicole began.
“Visitor?” asked Tim.
“Yes, I was doing the dishes and looking out my back window when I saw a truck pull in your driveway,” she said. “I only noticed it because I wondered why he backed so far up in your driveway, almost up to the garage door. It may have been nothing, but usually visitors to either of our houses park in front. The only people who park that close to the garage are Jennifer and you. Like I said, it was probably nothing.”
“What kind of vehicle was it?” asked Tim, his heart in his throat.
“Now I’m not good with cars,” Nicole paused, looking at her husband. “But I think it looked like the same thing Buck drives.”
“My brother, Buck, drives a Jeep,” offered Don.
A quick and disturbing thought hit Tim. “What color was it?”
“It was brown and tan.”
Tim flew to his car, his heart racing as he punched Lane’s number into his cell.
“The killer has Megan!”
<><><>
Upstairs in Forensics, Blake impatiently drummed his fingers on Karen Katz’s desk while he waited for her phone conversation to end. Once it did, she reached for a file on her desk.
“Hey, Blake. I know why you’re here.” Karen said as she brushed her long bangs out of her eyes.
“Did you get results on the latent print on the hypodermic?”
“Sure did.”
His heart in his throat, Blake asked, “Past offender?” With the number of murders under his belt, this guy had to have been arrested for something in his past.
“Nope. This guy’s prints were only in the system because he works for the Indiana Department of National Resources in the Division of State Parks and Reservoirs.”
“Shit! Who is he?”
“Damon Mason,” Karen declared.
“Dick Mason’s son? Are you sure?” Blake asked in disbelief. Even as Karen nodded, his mind raced. How could a twenty-year detective on the force have a son who would commit these heinous acts? He searched his memory to the day of Dick’s funeral, which was the last time he saw Damon. He seemed cold and stoic, but Damon never left his father’s casket. Blake remembered telling Damon how sorry he was about his loss and that his dad was a good man.
Just then, Karen’s supervisor called her to his office. Still stunned, Blake sat in Karen’s guest chair, thinking about Carly’s profile of the killer, and how she’d said he’d be very familiar with the area parks. Well, Damon Mason worked in them every day. The son of a bitch used the local parks, meant for recreation, as a hunting ground for young women. He was everything Carly described: good-looking, athletic, normal, and unthreatening.
But was he jumping to conclusions? That Damon was the man who attacked Jennifer in the hospital didn’t mean he was a serial killer. Did it?
Blake pulled out his cell phone and dialed the State Parks and Reservoirs human resources director he’d talked to the night before.
“Barry, this is Blake Stone. We talked last night. I need your help, and please don’t make me get a subpoena to get it. Time is of the essence.”
“I heard you found Brianna’s body,” Barry murmured sympathetically. “Do we agree the information we discuss didn’t come from me?”
“Agreed. You employ a conservation officer by the name of Damon Mason. What can you tell me about him?”
“Hold on a second while I find his file.” Blake heard some papers rustling, then Barry returned to the phone. “Here it is. What do you want to know?”
“How long has he worked for you?”
“Looks like about six months.”
A muscle flicked in his jaw as Blake gripped his cell and asked, “Does he drive tan and brown Jeep?”
“Sure. All the conservation officers have them.”
“What about ATVs? Does he have access to them?”
“Sure. Of course he does.”
Sickened, Blake shook his head as he thought about how easy it was for Damon to get the bodies back into the park using an ATV with a cart, driving the service roads. Even if he had been seen, people wouldn’t give a conservation officer on an ATV a second thought. Just like the night he used one when he abducted Tiffany Chase.
“Do you have his resume in the file to see where he worked before coming here?”
After a moment, Barry said, “His resume lists his last job in a state park in Ohio where he worked for five years.”
“Where he murdered five women...”
<><><>
Ending the call, Blake flew out of the room and bounded down the stairs so he could tell Lane that Damon Mason was their killer. He got to Lane’s office but the door was closed and his admin wasn’t at her desk. This couldn’t wait, he thought as he burst through the door. Lane and Tim sat at Lane’s small conference table. Fatigue was settling in pockets under Tim’s eyes and he looked upset.
“What’s going on?” Blake asked Tim.
“The killer has Megan and I don’t even know where to start looking since we don’t know who the bastard is.”
“Yes, we do,” blurted Blake.
Chapter Eleven
Jennifer poured hot coffee into her mug then snagged a homemade chocolate-chip cookie baked by one of the deputy’s wives. She chatted with Joey Fields, one of the new recruits, who also nabbed a cookie, declaring there were absolutely no calories in it.
As Jennifer got closer to her cubicle, she realized her desk phone was ringing so she hastened to get it.
“Jennifer Brennan.”
“Jennifer, this is Damon Mason.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. She still hadn’t shaken her initial negative impression of Damon. And she’d tried because she’d cared so much about his father. She picked up her pen to doodle on a notepad, which she usually did when she was on the phone.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I just found something my father left for you.” His voice sounded breathless like he had run into the room to call her.
“Your dad left something for me?” That was odd. Why was she just now hearing about it?
“Yes, I just found it while I was looking through his things,” Damon explained. “I think you’ll want to see it right away.”
“See what? What did Dick leave for me?”
“It’s a letter addressed to you. I found it taped under one of his dresser drawers. The outside of the envelope says that you must read the letter inside immediately following his death.”
“Oh, my God,” Jennifer exclaimed. Thinking of her old partner made tears well up in her eyes. She still missed him terribly. “Where are you, Damon?”
“I’m at Dad’s house. His attorney told me this morning that Dad left it to me. I was going through his things when I found the letter. You’ll come to read it, won’t you? I have this feeling it’s important.”
“Yes, I’ll be there soon.” Jennifer hung up the phone, grabbed her purse and walked around the corner to tell Blake. He wasn’t at his desk. She looked toward Lane’s office and noticed the door was closed. Maybe Blake was with him.
Blake was going to have a fit when he found out she went out a
lone, but damn it, she was a trained officer. She could take care of herself.
Finding a pen on his desk, Jennifer wrote him a short note saying she had an errand to run, and would be back soon.
<><><>
Tim, Lane, and Blake studied a map of Deer Run State Park. Blake used a marker to circle the cabin where Barry said Damon Mason lived.
“It will take up to sixty minutes to deploy the on-duty and off-duty officers on the SWAT team. Depending on the traffic, and factoring in the curves in the road, it should take the SWAT team a maximum of twenty additional minutes to reach Damon’s cabin,” said Lane.