Cut to the Bone

by Ellison Cooper

  “Max!” Sayer took the pizza he handed up to her so he could boost Kona onto the deck. The dog gave Sayer a quick hand lick, which was positively effusive for the ever-serious working canine.

  “What are you doing here?” Sayer asked.

  “I heard that you’re off the case. Anderson sure has a bee in his bonnet over you, doesn’t he?” Max took the pizza back. “I knew you wouldn’t just kick off your boots and eat bonbons, so I took a few vacation days … figured I’d see if you need a hand.”

  “Max.” Sayer was momentarily overwhelmed. “Being here will put you firmly in Anderson’s sights.”

  He shrugged and gave Kona a vigorous head ruffle. “Eh, what do I care about Anderson. I know you and the people here are the best bet those girls have. Nothing else matters.”

  Sayer blinked a few times but then nodded sharply. “How up-to-date are you?”

  “Well, I know Luke Windsor isn’t the unsub.”

  “Right. Now I’m trying to figure out who it could be.” Sayer resumed pacing. Kona watched her movements, eyes sharp. “We know that the unsub is strong, fast, and probably has some military training. That’s a pretty specific set of skills. We need a way to cross-reference”—Sayer rolled her hand in the air—“former soldiers who’ve studied Egyptology, who grew up in D.C. or went to college here … and hell, I don’t know…” She trailed off as she realized that they already knew one other person who fit that description.

  “What?” Max said, seeing her wide eyes, but Sayer was already rushing back down into the cabin.

  “Ezra, what do you have on Miles Windsor?” she called out.

  “Miles? Luke’s dead brother?” He looked up from his keyboard and did a double take at Max and Kona following Sayer down. “Hey, Max. Thought you’d probably come to help.”

  “And bring pizza.” Max slid the box onto the only clear corner on the table and scooted up to sit on the narrow kitchen counter. Kona curled at his feet.

  Sayer brought everyone back to Miles Windsor. “If we’re looking at the cross section of skills that made us suspect Luke Windsor, I can think of one other person who looks a hell of a lot like him and would have almost the exact same set of skills. His brother, Miles, also grew up living part-time in Egypt. He’s very familiar with D.C. He was also former military. Hell, he was Special Forces. That kind of training would explain why he’s been able to control high-intensity situations like the bus kidnapping.”

  As Ezra frantically typed on his computer, Sayer’s phone rang.

  “Agent Altair.”

  “Sayer.” She recognized Subject 037’s low voice.

  “What is it?” Sayer said sharply.

  “I’ve been looking into whoever was following you and I’ve found something endlessly fascinating.” Subject 037 sounded positively joyful.

  “Okay,” Sayer said noncommittally.

  “I know you don’t enjoy games. But I do, so I’ll give you this clue and leave it at that.” He paused dramatically. “Not everyone dead is truly gone.”

  Sayer felt her body become perfectly still. Was 037 confirming her theory? “We’ve already just figured out that Miles Windsor is alive,” she bluffed.

  “Who?” Subject 037 laughed his rumbling chuckle. Controlling information was one of his most powerful weapons and he was clearly hoping to prod a reaction from her.

  Rather than give him the satisfaction, Sayer simply said, “Wonderful, thanks for confirming what we already knew,” and then hung up.

  “What was that?” Ezra looked worried.

  “That was 037,” she replied.

  “Who?” Al asked.

  “That’s one of the ‘noncriminal’ psychopaths she was studying,” Max said, making scare quotes around the word “noncriminal.” “He’s some bigwig in D.C., possibly NSA.”

  “Hey, there’s no such agency,” Ezra said.

  “What?” Al seemed genuinely confused.

  “Sorry, man,” Ezra said. “The NSA. You know, the National Security Agency. But the joke is that NSA stands for No Such Agency … because it’s so secretive. Anyway, he’s taken an unhealthy liking to Sayer. He’s the one who saved her job a few months ago.”

  “So, kind of a frenemy?” Al asked seriously.

  “A dangerous frenemy,” Sayer confirmed. “And he wanted to tell me that not everyone dead is truly gone.”

  “He’s got to be talking about Miles,” Al said. “Being a detective is more interesting than messing with old crap.”

  Sayer closed her eyes to let the thought that the unsub could be Miles Windsor percolate. It made perfect sense, except for one thing—how does a Special Forces soldier fake his own death? And why?

  HOLT’S BOAT, MARINA, SOUTHWEST WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “Okay, we need to confirm our theory before we do anything else.” Sayer bounced on her feet, feeling a manic rush of energy. “Ezra?”

  “Hang on.” Ezra hunched over his laptop, typing at impossible speed. “Easily accessible information from his personal file, Miles Windsor was Delta Force.”

  Max whistled. “That’s hard-core.”

  “It is,” Sayer agreed. She didn’t know much about the military, but Max certainly did. And she did know that Delta was basically the elite of the elite among Special Forces.

  Ezra read off his screen. “It looks here like Miles was a model soldier. He has glowing, and I mean glowing, reviews. He’s highly decorated and has been on a few dozen very sensitive missions. The specifics aren’t here, I’d have to hack the army’s files to find out details of each mission, but they are clearly classified.”

  “So nothing suspicious? Could those reports be forged?” Sayer asked.

  “The reports all look genuine, but … there is something that could be a red flag.” Ezra paused, still skimming the screen. “It’s kind of an unspoken undercurrent in all of these reports. They rave about how great Miles is, but they also hint at someone who has a fairly gray line between right and wrong.”

  “How so?” Sayer asked.

  Ezra nodded. “It’s subtle, but listen to this.” He read off the computer. “‘Miles consistently goes above and beyond the call of duty, even when it isn’t required.’” Ezra looked up at Sayer. “Am I crazy that that sounds almost like a dig? There’s stuff like that in a lot of these reports. Miles pushing further into enemy territory than necessary. Miles initiating a fight that achieved military goals, but also led to unexpected collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage meaning innocent lives,” Al said, frowning.

  “Probably,” Ezra agreed.

  “Okay, so we’ve got a highly decorated, dedicated soldier, but someone who also pushes boundaries and perhaps believes that the ends justify the means,” Sayer said. “Ezra, call a few of his former commanding officers. Be forthright about our concerns and see what they have to say in person. Find out more about his death, too.”

  “Got it. I’ll also work on accessing Miles’s personal file. Oh, hang on, here’s the summary of the investigation into his death,” Ezra said.

  “There was an investigation?” Sayer’s interest increased.

  Ezra skimmed the report. “Don’t get too excited. Looks like this was just a routine army investigation. They would’ve called in NCIS if there were any questions. Looks like Miles was on a highly classified mission.”

  “No shock there. Virtually every Delta mission is classified,” Max said.

  “True. But the report does say he was in northern Iraq when his vehicle was blown up by an improvised explosive device.”

  Al shook his head. “The horrors we humans enact upon one another…”

  Ezra said, “The IED completely destroyed his vehicle and only charred bones were found. However, his unit confirmed that he was alone in the vehicle at the time. The remains were autopsied and found to be consistent with Miles Windsor. With no reason to doubt that Miles was dead, the investigation was closed. In accordance with his wishes, his remains were cremated and sent to his wife. The end.”
He looked up.

  “And this happened just over a year ago,” Sayer clarified.

  “That’s right,” Ezra confirmed.

  Sayer pressed her lips together, still thinking out loud. “Aren’t Special Forces soldiers listed in our databases? I mean, wouldn’t we get a match to DNA and fingerprints?”

  “We should,” Ezra said.

  Max looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard of foreign intelligence units who’ve had all their information removed from every official system in case they’re captured or killed. I guess it’s not impossible that there are special operations units who get the same treatment. Thing I’m struggling with here is the idea of a guy going from Delta Force to murdering kids. Special Forces soldiers undergo so many tests and trials, only the most mentally and physically fit make it in. I mean, I know seeing action can change people, but based on his file, this guy’s been in the thick of it at least a few dozen times. What could’ve happened to make him snap?”

  “A traumatic brain injury happened,” Sayer said. “Remember the MRI from Dr. Lilenhammer? That person suffered a serious TBI, and something like that can cause dramatic changes in personality.”

  “Like Special Forces to serial killer kind of change?” Max asked.

  “Exactly like that. You ever heard of Phineas Gage?”

  “That the guy who got a metal rod shot through his head and lived?” Ezra asked.

  Sayer nodded. “An iron rod entered through his cheek and came out the top of his head. Most of his left frontal lobe was destroyed, but he survived. After the accident, his personality totally changed from sweet guy to aggressive asshole. None of his friends could stand him afterward. That’s an extreme case, but even really minor head injuries can cause fairly dramatic changes in personality. And the damage I saw on that MRI was exactly the kind of damage associated with psychosis. So yeah, Special Forces to serial killer is entirely possible, especially if we’re talking about someone with an already gray moral compass. The injury just pushed him over the edge.”

  “Damn,” Al said softly. “That’s scary. I mean, I bump my head and become a totally different person? Is it really so easy to change who we fundamentally are?”

  Sayer didn’t want to go off on a philosophical tangent about personality and sense of self. “Let’s assume that Miles didn’t really die in the IED explosion in Iraq. We still don’t know where he was for the intervening year. Let’s see if we can find that out. And, Ezra, let everyone at Quantico know what we’re thinking. I’m going to head on deck to call Miles’s widow. If she still has his ashes, I’d sure like to see if we could extract a DNA sample. It’s a long shot, but I’m willing to bet whoever she has in that urn isn’t Miles Windsor.”

  Sayer climbed back out on the deck to dial Jackie Windsor. Asking to DNA test a loved one’s remains was always delicate and she wanted some privacy.

  “Hi, Ms. Windsor, Jackie, this is Agent Altair. We spoke the other day and I have a few follow-up questions if you don’t mind.” Sayer tried to sound casual.

  “Of course,” Jackie drawled. “Have you been able to track down Luke yet?”

  “We have and it’s raised … additional questions. There’s just no delicate way to ask this: Do you still have Miles’s ashes?”

  There was a long moment of silence on the line. “Well, of course I do.”

  “Did the army happen to tell you how they ID’ed his body?”

  “What? Why are you asking me about identifying his body?” Jackie’s voice quivered.

  “I apologize, but I need you to answer.”

  “Well, no of course not. All they told me was that he was killed in action. I assumed that … I don’t know.”

  “You weren’t sure of the condition of his body,” Sayer said gently.

  “Exactly, but there was never any question raised…” she trailed off, clearly connecting the dots.

  “Would you be willing to let us run a DNA test on his ashes?”

  “Are you saying you think…?” Jackie’s voice rose with emotion.

  “We’re not saying anything right now. This is all speculation—”

  “But there’s a chance Miles is alive,” she interrupted Sayer. “My God,” Jackie added in recognition.

  Sayer froze at her tone of voice. “What is it?”

  Jackie’s words tumbled out. “A homeless man broke into my house one night while I was at work. This was about three months ago. He got in, but didn’t actually steal anything. He just wandered around for a while until the police arrived. He must’ve heard the sirens and escaped out the back. He got away, but I have a security camera and when I watched it, I never got a good look at his face, but I thought for a second that he moved just like Miles.”

  Sayer’s heart thudded in her chest. “You thought it was Miles who broke in?”

  “I mean … no, of course not. Miles is dead … and this man was in horrible shape. Hair in his face, dirty clothes. Miles would never go out like that. I thought … that I just wanted to see him again…” Her voice cracked. “You think it really could’ve been my Miles?”

  Sayer felt the electric current of certainty course through her body. This had to be it. Miles was still alive. This was the missing piece that would explain the improbable. “Do you still have that video?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No, but the police should.” Jackie’s voice faded to a whisper.

  “Please don’t get your hopes up. If Miles is alive, he might not be the Miles you remember. I’m going to send someone over to pick up his ashes for testing. I promise I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

  Sayer didn’t add that, if he truly was alive, he was also probably a serial killer. She looked at the time. Two in the afternoon. Only eight hours until Miles Windsor would most likely kill again.

  She was about to head back inside when a text arrived from Tino.

  I’m at the hospital with Declan. I just heard that Nell Goodyear woke up after surgery. I know you’re off the case, but thought you might want to talk to her.

  UNKNOWN LOCATION

  The man was back at the tomb, pacing like a wild animal in a cage. His wounds seeped blood that was already dried in patches along his skin and clothes, making him look even more monstrous than before. As he paced, he chanted softly, eyes roving back to Kate again and again. Though agitated, he didn’t look at her with hatred or bloodlust. Instead, he seemed almost curious.

  She wanted to demand that he tell her where he’d taken Nell. Why he killed all those boys. Why he killed Declan. She wanted to attack him again, but he seemed much larger now. Something about his injuries and the gleam in his eyes made him seem feral. Dangerous. Instead of attacking, she decided to try and make him see her as a person. Maybe she could convince him to spare her.

  “My name is Kate Brooks.” Her voice wobbled slightly. “I love science and have a boyfriend.”

  The man stopped ranging back and forth and turned his flat eyes on her.

  “I’m thinking of going to MIT in the fall so I can study engineering,” she continued. “What I really want to do is make robots.”

  He shook his head violently, letting out a low moan. “No. No. I know your true name. Your secret name, Great of Power, goddess of the fourth hour of the night.”

  “I’m not a goddess. I’m a high school student. I live with my parents in Washington, D.C. Do you know where we are?” Kate asked gently.

  “I know exactly where I am.” He leaned forward and cradled his head in his filthy hands.

  “Why are you doing this to us?” Kate’s voice broke and she couldn’t hold back her tears.

  He looked up at her with pleading eyes. “I just want to go home.”

  Kate’s heart beat faster. He seemed so helpless. “I can help you. If we go to the police, they will help you, I promise.”

  She realized too late that it was the wrong thing to say when his eyes snapped wide open. He rushed toward her.

  She cringed, thinking he was about to hit her.

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nbsp; Instead he stopped inches from her face and shouted, “I see your trick now! I’ve met the demon trying to stop me. But she won’t win. I know the true path of the twelve chambers.” He turned away and began pacing again. “As above, so below,” he repeated. “The rising and setting of the stars mark the hours of the night. Thirty-six circumpolar stars to show me the way. All I have to do is follow the cycle of the night and they will lead me across this land of darkness.”

  While he spoke, Kate pushed herself into the corner.

  Calmer now, he looked back at her and spoke softly, “Human empires rise and fall, cultures grow and change around the world, but the relentless patterns of the cosmos repeat above us again and again. The heavens are ruled by gods and ancestors. It is a place of wonder … a numinous metronome pulsing in the sky. It’s the only thing I can still trust. And soon you will be among the stars, immortal goddess.” He bowed his head slightly in a gesture of respect.

  Realizing how far gone this man was, Kate knew then that there was no way she could reason with him. Instead, she sought refuge in the prayer her mother used to utter when she was afraid.

  Curled in the corner, frightened and alone, Kate Brooks whispered that same prayer.

  ROAD TO FAIRFAX HOSPITAL, FALLS CHURCH, VA

  After making sure that Ezra and Max were working on background for Miles Windsor while Al and Holt kept searching for possible dump sights, Sayer decided to make a quick trip to the hospital. Tino was right; she did want to talk to Nell Goodyear. Even though someone from the official FBI team would be sent to interview the girl, Sayer wanted to touch base personally, partly just to make sure Nell was doing well, partly to see if the girl could remember anything useful. Maybe she would have a break in the case.

  The late afternoon sun warmed her as she made her way along Arlington Boulevard. Out of habit, Sayer glanced in her rearview. The vintage Porsche trailed her less than a mile back.

  A burst of anger burned along her limbs like wildfire.