Absolution: The Clandestine Saga Book 4

by ID Johnson

  ***

  For the hundredth time that day, Detective Abby Watson stared at the collage she and her partner had constructed in her office. She had been working Philly Homicide for almost twelve years, but she’d never encountered anything like this. Seven bodies, counting the one they’d pulled out of Cobb’s Creek Park yesterday evening, and absolutely nothing to tie the victims together except the fact that they were all women and all runners. There were no witnesses; no one in the vicinity had seen anyone or anything suspicious. Watson’s only hope lie in the slim chance that their latest victim, twenty-four-year-old Maddison Rigby, had managed to snag a clean DNA sample when she attempted to defend herself. It would make no difference for her, but if she could provide them with a suspect, it was a possibility that she could prevent anyone else from experiencing the same hell she just went through.

  Watson stretched her back and absently smoothed her dark brown hair as she stared at the nightmarish images in front of her. Due to the athletic nature of the victims, the local media had taken to calling the perpetrator the Jogging Path Killer. Each woman had been surprised on an evening jog, dragged into the underbrush, and had her throat slashed. Ages ranged from eighteen-year-old Jasmin Brown to fifty-seven-year-old Judy Kessler. There was no rhyme or reason, no connection, and no precedence, save one isolated incident in Buffalo. But that had been six years prior to their first Philly victim, and though the calling card seemed to match almost perfectly, there was nothing to tie the murder of Barbara Gibbon to this strand of violence.

  While all of the pictures were vile, the one that disturbed Watson the most was the photograph of Brown. Her face was frozen in a grimace of shock and horror, her eyes wide with fright. She remembered well the conversation she had, had with her mother only a few days after her body was found. Michelle Brown had sat in a nearby office, rocking back and forth in her chair, sobbing as she repeated the same phrase over and over again. “She was my world, my whole wide world,” Watson whispered, lightly running her hands over the photograph. “We’ll find him, Jasmin. I promise.”

  “You all right, Watson?”

  She turned to find her partner, Peter Dixon, eyeing her suspiciously, a file folder in his hand. “Pete? Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. What’s that?”

  A small smile began to crack the corner of his chiseled face. “This is the lab report from the DNA sample we pulled from number seven last night.”

  “Madison Rigby,” she corrected him. “Her name was Madison Rigby.”

  “Right,” he said tossing the folder down on her desk so that she could look at it. “You’re never going to believe it, but we got a match.”

  Watson’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You were able to locate a suspect in the database?”

  As he opened the file, Peter Dixon nodded in the affirmative. “Yep, never arrested for anything major, just a charge of public intoxication back in 2010, but it’s definitely a match.”

  Glancing over the mug shot, Watson’s brow creased. He didn’t look like the type of person who would drag a woman into the woods and slit her throat. Of course, the mug shot was six years old. Still, the man in the picture looked weak and intimidated, not like the hulking beast who could rip these athletes off of the track and into the underbrush against their will. However, one glance at the name at the top of the documentation both made her nauseous and completely convinced at the same time. “Steven Gibbon….” she read aloud.

  “Yep, could be our guy,” Peter confirmed, his hands on his hips.

  “Oh, it’s our guy all right,” Watson confirmed, and then standing to meet his gaze she added, “but we have eight victims, not seven.”

  Chapter Six

  The bleachers were as packed as any high school football game Cadence could ever remember, and as a cheerleader, she had attended more than her fair share. Both the visiting Bulldog fans and the hospitable Tigers had showed up in their respective colors, air horns a’blazing, ready to cheer their teams on to victory. Unfortunately for the Bulldogs, school spirit would only get them so far, and the Tigers had come out to an early lead of 14-0. By the start of the fourth quarter, they had increased their lead to 35-7, and Cadence wanted to give the majority of the credit to the tight end, number 82, Brandon Keen.

  “He is so good!” Cadence gushed as Brandon made another reception for a first down. “He’s big, but he’s fast. He’s like… Jason Witten or Travis Kelce.”

  Aaron nodded his head in agreement, but Cadence could tell by his expression that he didn’t really know what she was talking about. He had agreed to wear the Tiger Pride sweatshirt she had purchased on his behalf and consented to her brandishing a giant finger, but he had been relatively quiet during most of the game, only clapping politely whenever the Tigers scored or Brandon made a reception. For the most part, he seemed content to watch her watch football.

  Plopping back down on the metal bleacher, Cadence asked, “Do you even know what’s happening?”

  “Sure,” he shrugged. “Those guys have the ball, and the other guys want it. They want to get it down there, and they want to get it down there,” he continued, pointing at either end of the field.

  Cadence rolled her eyes. “You’re a guy. You’re supposed to care about football!”

  “Where I come from, this isn’t football,” he reminded her. “It’s all right….” he acquiesced. “I just don’t have a lot of time to watch sports anyway, you know?”

  She sighed, knowing full well how true that statement was. “I know. I used to watch football every Sunday with my dad. Now, gosh, I don’t think I even saw the Super Bowl last year.” The wind was whipping through her hair, and she paused to pull it back over her shoulders. “I really need to make time for that. Soon.”

  Just as Aaron was about to open his mouth to agree, Brandon caught the ball, broke a tackle, and made his way into the end zone. Cadence jumped up, screaming in excitement, leaving her fiancé on the bench, a look of amusement on his handsome face. It was nice to see her enjoying herself for once.

  After the Tigers finished wiping the field with the Bulldogs in a 48-14 victory, the stands began to clear rather quickly. Cadence had scanned the area several times looking for Brandon’s mom, Amanda, but she wasn’t able to find her anywhere. Now, as people began to exit, she looked around again; she still didn’t see her. She did see Brandon, however, and she was fairly certain he knew they were there. After all, she had been cheering at the top of her lungs, sitting near the front center of the bleachers. He was congratulating some of his team members, and though he had not acknowledged their presence, Cadence was curious to see what might happen if she tried to talk to him.

  “We should probably just leave him alone,” Aaron cautioned. “If he wants to talk to us, he knows where to find us.”

  Cadence stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “But… he’s right there. I just want to tell him good job. I don’t want to kidnap him and force him to come to LIGHTS, Transform, and replace his father.”

  “Thought about that much?” Aaron questioned. Seeing her expression, and noticing Brandon did seem to be lingering for no apparent reason, he finally said, “Fine. Go talk to him. I’ll wait here.”

  “Really?” she asked, her face lighting up. She didn’t give him time to respond, however, before she was flying down the bleachers, down the ramp, and out towards where a few last players were talking, along with some stray parents and a cheerleader or two.

  As she approached, he took a few steps away, away from his friends, and away from her. She slowed for a moment, as if she were trailing a Vampire and needed to determine which way he was going to cut, but Brandon stopped near the benches on the sidelines, his helmet in his hand, sweat dripping from his hair despite the cooler temperatures.

  “Hey! What a great game!” she called as she approached. She interlaced her fingers behind her back in an attempt to look nonchalant. “You are an amazing tight end!”

  The cautious expression was still on his face, but he cracked a
small smile at the compliment. “Thanks,” he muttered. “What are you doing here?”

  Cadence pulled to a halt about five feet from him, still giving him space. “Oh, we were in the area, and we wanted to watch you play. Hope you don’t mind. It was a great game.”

  Brandon looked around for a moment, clearly uncomfortable, before he said, “Yeah, thanks. We played pretty good.”

  “You sure did,” Cadence agreed. “How have you been?”

  Shrugging the shoulders of his filthy football uniform, he stared at the ground for a few moments before he finally said, “Fine, I guess.”

  “That’s good,” Cadence smiled. He looked uncomfortable, and yet there was something in his expression that seemed to be saying that he wanted her to stay--that he wasn’t really hoping she would walk away. “That was a great catch at the beginning of the fourth, the one that hit your fingertips and bounced into your hand.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty cool,” he laughed. “I felt a little bit like Odell Beckham.”

  “Beckham?” she practically screeched. “You are not a Giants fan.”

  “I didn’t say I was,” he replied defensively. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t catch the ball like him.”

  “Whatever. You need to be comparing yourself to someone on a talented team--like Jason Witten,” she jibed crossing her arms across her chest.

  “Witten’s pretty good,” Brandon conceded.

  “Pretty good? He’s the best! He sticks his arm out, and the other team’s players practically sit down on the field,” Cadence declared adamantly.

  “The lady knows her football,” he laughed. “That’s good. That oughtta make your boyfriend pretty happy.”

  Cadence fought back a snicker. “Um, okay,” she said rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder. Aaron was still sitting on the bleacher where she had left him, pretending not to be paying attention, but she knew he was. “He’s more interested in football than football,” she explained, using an exaggerated British accent on the first term.

  “Oh, all right then, governor,” Brandon shot back, not to be outdone when it came to cockney accents. “Cherrio then! Bob’s your uncle. Bangers and mash!”

  “Are you just stringing together stereotypical British phrases?” Cadence asked, almost doubled over in laughter.

  “Pish posh,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “I’m a regular member of Parliament.”

  “No, I don’t think you are,” Cadence responded, shaking her head. “I think you’re a mess! Like your….” She paused, not sure if she should finish the sentence. She didn’t want to offend him; it had just come out.

  “Like my dad?” he asked, his expression suddenly becoming much more somber.

  Her demeanor changed as well. “Yeah, like your dad.”

  Despite the breeze, the air around them suddenly seemed quite heavy. He began to shift his weight, and Cadence was certain he was about to say he had to go. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, she could say to make him stay. She began to try and think of something, a change in subject, a question of some sort. Nothing was coming to mind.

  “Hey, Keen! You comin’ to Ralphio’s?” another player yelled from across the field as he approached.

  “I don’t know,” Brandon shouted back. He waited for the kid to close the distance before adding, “I’m kinda tired.”

  The other boy was taller and lankier. Cadence recognized his number from the field. He hadn’t played much, and his uniform was much cleaner to prove it. “Your girlfriend can come,” he said, looking Cadence up and down, the side of his mouth curling up.

  The bile in the back of her throat at the creepiness of his stare prevented Cadence from making an immediate response, and by the time she had the opportunity to do so, Brandon was already speaking. “I don’t know, Chet. She has a term paper due tomorrow. College is a lot harder than high school, bro.”

  Cadence wiped the confused expression off of her face immediately as she saw number 63 nodding in agreement. “Right,” she chimed in. “It’s really, really hard.” Chet snickered, and Cadence realized she was dealing with a juvenile. She chose to ignore his immaturity and continued, “But, hey, babe, if you want to go hang out with your friends for a while, I’m game.”

  Brandon’s eyebrows raised as if he couldn’t believe she was playing along, and throwing him an ultimatum. “Well, sweet pea, I know how difficult Dr. Erickson’s class is. I would hate to see you fail it--again.”

  Cadence cocked her head to the side, an expression of disbelief. “Well, bae, if you hadn’t distracted me so much the last time, perhaps I would have done better.”

  “Look, I need to go take a shower, so I hope I see you there,” Chet said, finally wedging his way into the conversation. He was clearly looking at Cadence when he said that last part.

  “Fine, we’ll be there,” Brandon agreed, his chin held high in defiance.

  “Great, but my… brother will have to come with us,” Cadence countered, her arms crossed.

  Brandon crinkled up one side of his face. Chet was walking away now, on his way to the locker room, but he continued the charade. “Perhaps your brother can just sit in the car?”

  “Oh, stop!” Cadence said, punching him in the arm. “He’s gone. You can end the charade now.”

  “You mean charade?” he asked using the British pronunciation.

  Cadence giggled but didn’t respond to the comment. Instead she said, “You are a really good liar! I’m impressed with your BS skills.”

  “Thanks,” Brandon said shrugging. “It comes in handy… sometimes.”

  “You’re telling me,” Cadence muttered. “Anyway, what is Ralphio’s and how do we get there?”

  “It’s a pizza place on Main Street. You can’t miss it. I’ve got to hit the locker room, but I’ll meet you over there in thirty minutes or so, okay? But you’ve got to pretend to be my girlfriend the whole time! Did you see those guys checking you out? And all the cheerleaders will be so jealous….”

  “Fine!” Cadence agreed.

  “Awesome! Everyone’s going to think I’m dating an older woman.”

  Cadence gasped. “How old do you think I am?” she asked, regretting the question as soon as it came out of her mouth. “Don't answer that.”

  Brandon began to walk towards the locker room, and Cadence stayed with him. “Oh, no, you don’t look old. But you act old.”

  “Mature!” she offered.

  “Right. Whatever. I don’t know, like, twenty-three?”

  She stopped in her tracks. “I’m only twenty! And just barely that!”

  “Really?” he asked. “Hmmm… never would have guessed it. Well, in that case you could be my real girlfriend.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows rapidly several times.

  Cadence couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, no. Thanks anyway. I’m taken. And you’re too young for me.”

  “I’m eighteen,” he reminded her.

  “I like older men--much older men. But you are cute. And funny. I’m sure you’ll make a great catch for someone someday. But not me!”

  “If you say so,” he said smiling and looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “Your loss.”

  Cadence laughed, but on the inside she was feeling like maybe her loss was finally fading.

  ***

  Cesky Krumlov was founded over 800 years ago, and many of the buildings had stood sentinel almost as long. The continual stream of tourists provided the humans with an economic resource and the Vampires with sustenance; it was difficult to say what happened to those poor lost souls who went on holiday and never returned.

  Klet was a draw for tourists as well with its scenic vistas and mountain peaks that provided an excellent view of the surrounding countryside. However, Giovani, Zabrina, Nelo, and another local Vampire, Venette, were not trekking through the thick forest in an attempt to breathe in the fresh air. Though Nelo was certain this was the area where Daunator could be found, after hours of searching, and making himself available as Nelo h
ad instructed, they continued to come up short. Giovani was beginning to think that Nelo had purposely drawn him out of his lair in an attempt to have him destroyed. Otherwise, he was just an old coot who had lost his ever-loving mind.

  As the sun began to set, the party wound their way up a steep overhang. Giovani’s ability to contact other Vampires using telepathy was strong, but despite his best efforts, he was unable to reach Daunator. As far as he could tell, there were no other Vampires anywhere nearby. While Zabrina had bitten her tongue all day, gracing him with a resistance to say, “I told you so,” he knew she was about to reach her breaking point as well. And the last thing he needed was to listen to her complain about what an idiotic idea this had been.

  As they reached level ground for the moment, Giovani brought them to a halt. Gasping in frustration, he threw himself down on a large rock, causing everyone else to stop in their tracks and give him their full attention. “Well, this has been a colossal waste of time,” he exclaimed.

  “Sire, I’m sure if we just keep looking....” Nelo began.

  Giovani cut him off. “We’ve been looking. Clearly, this Daunator either doesn’t exist or he doesn’t live on this mountain.”

  “You must be patient,” Venette crooned in her heavy accent. “You cannot force Daunator. He operates on his own schedule.”

  Shaking his head rapidly, Giovani stomped his boot on the ground. “I don’t have time to be patient,” he replied. “I’ve been patient. Now is the time for action. I need advice from this sage to guide me. Otherwise, I’m never going to defeat Cadence Findley and the tyrannical team of Guardians and Hunters.”

  “Giovani…” Zabrina interrupted.

  “I mean, what else is a soul to do? We’ve climbed up and down this mountain more times than I care to count, and not a glimpse of this visionary.”

  “Giovani…”

  “Really, I’m beginning to think both of you are out of your minds, and he doesn’t even exist.”