Chad Holmes had connections to the victims, easy access.
He was an attractive man and would have no problem gaining interest from women.
He had a trustworthy face.
I thought about how his lust, or, in his view, love for Leslie Keyes had propelled him into a spiral of events that could have pulled him to his past.
My thoughts halted there.
My feet hit the unfinished floor of the basement.
Nothing stood out. Everything was as one would expect to find in any house. Storage shelves lined the walls. They were mostly empty, except for a few cardboard boxes.
Jack and I made our way around the perimeter of the room.
“Clear.” Zachery’s voice came over the headpiece.
Not long after, Paige and Zachery made their way down the stairs.
“We’ll have a team pull every inch of the place apart. If the women were ever here, they’ll find it.” Jack pulled out his cell, dialed, spoke a few minutes, and then hung up. “Forensics will be here in about an hour.” He never got his cell put away before it rang again. “Supervisory Agent Harper.”
I waited for Jack’s expression to change, to give some sort of a telltale sign as to the news he was receiving. Nothing registered there—good or bad.
He hung up a few seconds later.
“They have a match to the blood found in Monica’s apartment. It’s the same as the unidentified male from the cabin sheets,” Jack said, “and the murder victim from two thousand.”
“There has to be proof that the women were here.”
“We’ve been through this entire house, and there’s no sign of what would have been used to kill the women,” Paige gestured, “no pulley system.”
“He has a secondary location where he does the killing. The fact that a woman was even here—if she was,” Zachery faced me, “assuming the shower that you heard running was regarding one of the missing women, tells us that he really admires Monica. She’s his ideal, or why bring her to his home?”
“She looked the most like Leslie of all the women,” I said.
“But it makes you wonder, why did he bring her here at all?” Paige asked. “Did he need to pick something up? Did he have to take care of something before heading north?”
“Nadia hasn’t gotten back to us on the property owners yet, has she?” Jack dialed on his cell. “It’s Jack…all right.” He hung up. “She’s in the process of sending the list over. Said there’s no Chad Holmes noted as a property owner in the surrounding area where Harris was found.”
All our phones chimed at once.
Chapter 50
Zachery didn’t even take a full ten seconds to recognize a name on the property owner list. “Ken Campbell.”
Paige glanced up from her cell. “The reason we couldn’t find a Steve working at Straightline, who was nicknamed Ladies’ Man, was because there wasn’t one. It was Campbell all along.”
Jack was already on his cell phone with Nadia, demanding the man’s full background. He put her on speaker.
“Ken Campbell is the adopted son of Steve Manning, but there was never a name change done. Based on records, Campbell never had any children.”
“Is there any connection between Chad Holmes and Ken Campbell?” Jack asked.
“Just a minute.” There was a bunch of keyboard clicking coming from the other end. “I’m pulling up the record on Holmes—”
“Nadia?”
“Whoa, you’re not going to believe this. All right, Campbell did share an address with Chad’s mother.”
“Her name and address?”
“Jenny Holmes, but she’s dead. Died in ninety-eight.”
“Chad would have been eleven. Potentially, two years later, Campbell has him go along with him to rape and murder a woman,” I said.
Paige rubbed her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Was his mother sharing the address with Campbell at the time of her death?” Jack asked Nadia.
“It looks like it, yes.”
“Who was given legal guardianship of Chad?”
“You’ll have to give me some time to work on that one.”
“Who was Chad Holmes’s real father?” I asked.
“On the birth record, it was put down as unknown. Manning is long dead, but the good news is Ken Campbell is still alive.”
“We know. We visited him.” Paige shook her head. “He was right in front of us, but there’s no way that man could be doing the abducting and killing now. It has to be Chad.”
“Like we figured. Who’s paying for Campbell’s care?” Zachery asked.
“I’d need some time to figure that out too, but Holmes’s health records just opened. Seems he does experience auditory hallucinations. He received a prescription meant to help quiet the voices.” Nadia provided the exact name of the drug.
“That one has been known to quiet the good voices and increase the intensity of the destructive ones,” Zachery said. “Those pills, combined with Leslie rejecting him six years ago, would explain a lot.”
“The records show he started on them—oh God.”
“Nadia?”
“He started on them in the fall of two thousand. Didn’t we figure the unsub raped the victim in the summer of that year? Also, Campbell shows a Ruger Single-Nine revolver and a hunting rifle had been registered to him, but it expired years ago.”
Jack disconnected the call. The determination in his eyes told me he felt the same way I did. We were close to catching a killer.
Trent Stenson was ready to make full disclosure, but only to Hanes. He wouldn’t be going to the FBI and letting them take the credit for all the hard work he put into solving this case. Sure, they went around and did all the questioning, but it was only because of him that their jobs were easier. He had pieced together that there was something more serious going on before anyone—despite their rank or position. He rang Hanes’s doorbell and stood back, waiting for an answer.
The door opened wide. Hanes stood there. “What are you doing here?”
The way judgment and concern married in his eyes had Trent questioning their friendship.
“Can I come in?” Trent asked.
“The wife is finishing up, and, if I ruin Sunday dinner, I’m a dead man.” Hanes drew a finger across his throat but stepped out onto the front steps. “I have two—”
“Lenny, who’s there?” The question came from his wife inside the house.
Hanes mouthed the word, see. “It’s Trent. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Okay. Dinner’s almost—”
Hanes closed the door and remained outside. “What is it?”
“I’m going to tell you what I’ve pieced together. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but it might. I’m sure the FBI is close to putting it together for themselves.”
“You should be talking to them.”
“They’re probably going to find out the unsub had a stepfather.”
“Now you’re talking like them? Unsub? Come on, Trent. We both know they’re onto Chad Holmes.”
Trent took a deep breath. “Chad had a stepfather, but the man never adopted him.”
“Okay. What does it matter?”
“All the victims,” Trent paused for emphasis, “had more in common than good looks and slender bodies. They—”
Hanes’s cell rang. “They what—” He lifted his cell and looked at the caller ID. “It’s them.”
He answered. “Detective Hanes…yes…okay…I’ll be right there.” He clipped the phone back in the holder on his hip. “They’ve tracked Holmes down to a rural property north on Route 234. So much for not ruining Sunday dinner. I’ve gotta go.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
Sydney heard his footsteps long before his shadow cast across the room. There was something different about his pace and the way his boots hit with each step. He was here to kill her.
“It’s time, Syd.”
His voice was flat, carrying no emot
ion.
Her thoughts were clear and the one that keep repeating was she didn’t want to die. There was a part, deep in her soul, wanting to cling to life, to continue fighting, but another side, a darker side, begging her to succumb.
“Why are you doing this?” Her own voice was foreign. It had been so long since she had spoken a word, let alone formed a sentence.
“We had fun, didn’t we? But all good fun must come to an end. I have Leslie now.” His eyes were on her, but with the distant gaze of a stranger, a cold spirit inside him. It was the same each time he had taken her since she had shown up at his Wooded Retreat for a ‘time she’d never forget.’
“We used to be happy.” Her words roiled her stomach.
He paused a few feet away from the end of the table.
She had his attention. She had to try to change his mind about killing her. “I really cared for—”
Emotion welled in her throat. All she had been through and had suffered over the last while.
He leaned over her and studied her eyes. “Do you love me?”
She was terrified to say no. What would he do to her? Would he make her death even more unpleasant?
“I do.” She swallowed bile.
He moved closer to her. There was a light that appeared in his eyes. He swept back her hair with his hands and cupped her face. There was softness there, dare she even compare it to tenderness. She recognized his touch from when they were truly lovers, an innocent tryst between two consenting adults. From a time when he satisfied her and made her crave his fingertips. Now the thought of him made her instinct recoil. She had to fortify herself when he bent farther down and took her mouth.
“In this traffic it’s going to take us an hour to reach the place.” Jack flicked the butt out the driver’s side window. “I don’t want anyone going in before us. They follow our lead, our strategy. This could turn into an ugly hostage situation, and that’s the last thing we want.”
Here I thought the last thing was Holmes killing someone. I kept that to myself.
“How do you want to play this out, boss?” Zachery asked.
Jack laid out his plan to us.
Chapter 51
Chad entered Leslie’s room and went toward her. “We’re going to have company for dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” He undid her restraints and told her quietly, “Don’t try to escape.”
She looked at him blankly. Her eyes were slits. She must have still been feeling the effects of the drug he gave her.
He led her to the dining room where he had set out food. A large steak was on a platter, and there was a bowl of baked potatoes. There were three plates and one complete place setting.
Sydney was sitting at the end of the table. He had dressed her in the cream colored suit she wore when she had arrived. He had tied her legs to those of the chair and secured a rope around her torso.
He helped Leslie take a seat at the other end and did the same with her.
He walked behind Sydney. “We’re going to have a last meal together. Sydney’s going to be leaving us soon.”
He ran a hand down the length of Sydney’s hair.
She shivered under his touch, possibly even withdrew. He chose to ignore it so that dinner wouldn’t be ruined.
Sydney had watched him bring Leslie into the dining room. She swayed on her feet and leaned heavily into him.
Sydney knew the woman was trying to get her attention, but she feared getting caught. When she could, she’d get in quick glimpses and sensed Leslie wasn’t feeling as drugged as she was acting. Her eyes were clear, except for when he’d start to turn in her direction. Then she’d lower her eyelids, as if she were dozy.
He worked at cutting the steak into pieces—one for each of them. He placed the portion on their plates and followed the meat with a baked potato.
“You can make it up the way you want. The butter…I love steak.” He cut off some beef and slid it into his mouth.
“Please, eat up.” He spoke between chews. “You have to eat with your hands. I can’t have you…God, this is good.”
Sydney glanced over at Leslie at the wrong time, and their eyes connected. Leslie was up to something. It was in her eyes. Sydney blinked and held her eyes shut for a few seconds to show her that the message was received.
Chapter 52
“Thanks for letting me come along.” Trent Stenson sat in the passenger seat. Hanes drove.
“You should have talked to the FBI as soon as you knew about the connection between the victims.”
“Then what? Let them have all the glory? I’ve wanted to make detective for years now.”
“You know the expression that goes around the department?” Hanes shifted his focus from the road to Trent. “Shit floats.”
“So you’re calling yourself a shit? From this perspective, I’m starting to see it.”
“Don’t be like that. Shit.” Hanes pounded the wheel with his palm.
“Shit. That seems to be your word at the moment. I’ll tell them as soon as we get there.”
Hanes let out a deep exhale and shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s just you’ve been obsessed with these women’s cases for how long now?”
“Not long after I became a cop.”
“And you want the glory for piecing them together? But when you can make an actual difference, you keep quiet? What is it anyway? What all have you figured out? You never finished saying.” Hanes turned onto VA 234 and headed north.
Sydney kept watching Leslie as she scooped out some of the potato from its peel and put it into her mouth.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he said.
A second later violent, racking coughs seized her and had Leslie pulling on the rope that held her to the chair. Her hand went to her throat. Some potato must have gone down the wrong way.
He was quick to his feet. “Leslie?” Concern filtered into his voice.
He went beside her and rubbed her back.
Coughs continued to grip Leslie, fragmenting her words as she tried to speak. “I…I can’t….bre—” She pulled out on the restraint against her torso again. “Pl…please.”
“Leslie.” He hurried to undo her. “Can you? Are you…you will be fine.”
She continued coughing. “Wa…ter…pl...ease.”
He passed a glimpse at Sydney before he rushed out of the room to the kitchen.
Leslie’s coughs became quieter, less aggressive, with some louder ones. She hoisted on the balls of her feet, lifting the back legs of the chair off the floor and reached over to the man’s place setting.
Sydney realized what the woman was going to do.
She was only one inch away from what she needed. One inch. She could do it. Sydney coaxed her on mentally.
Leslie’s movements stopped. Her eyes enlarged from fear—nearly large enough to serve as a mirror.
The man was on his way back.
Sydney heard his footsteps tapping on the old wooden floorboards of the house. They had mere seconds. Leslie made one final effort to reach what she needed.
“What the fuck are you—”
He dropped the glass to the floor and shards shattered across the surface.
He lunged at Leslie and pulled back on her hair.
From Leslie’s expression and outcry, Sydney wondered if he tore scalp from bone, but she continued to pull against him. She must have been infused with adrenaline. She had plans not only escape but to kill him.
Leslie’s fingertips brushed the wooden handle of the steak knife and it seemed enough to propel her forward. She wrapped her fingers around the knife and got a firm grip on it.
When she stopped fighting and let herself go in the direction of his pull, the chair toppled the opposite way, petering on a precarious angle backward. He wasn’t prepared for her to give into him, and, with the momentum, couldn’t hold her upright. She fell backward, and, thank God, Sydney thought, let go of Leslie’s hair.
“Why?” he yelled.
She struggled against him and let out a scream. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it tightly. Her grasp on the knife handle weakening, and the outcries getting louder.
With the way he had her pinned, Leslie’s hand only bent at the wrist. He continued to squeeze, and then he twisted it to the right.
Sydney heard the crack. And the knife fell to the floor.
Chapter 53
Backup was coming in from all possible directions, and the meeting point Jack had set up was about a mile down the road from Campbell’s property. We wouldn’t be knocking on the front door. We would be coming from all angles, and cruisers would create blockades in each direction.
Paramedics and ambulances were there on stand-by.
Satellite imagery showed an old drive shed a couple hundred yards from the house.
A car came toward us and had Jack moving to the middle of the road. When he noticed it was Hanes and Stenson, he stepped to the side.
Hanes killed the engine, and both men got out.
I was curious why Stenson had come along, but this was one of those cases where we needed all hands on deck.
“There’s something Stenson has to tell you.” Hanes gestured toward Stenson, who shifted his focus over the landscape—anywhere but in direct eye contact with Jack.
Three seconds passed.
“What is it?” Jack’s anger and impatience were unmistakable.
“I know of a connection among the victims. I’ve known for a while.” Stenson paused and swallowed roughly. “They were all from broken families. For example, Leslie Keyes had a mother who left her father, Amy Rogers had a father who was a drunk, and Sydney Poole’s mother abandoned her, but that’s not all. I’ve heard you mention that most of the victims didn’t have kids.”
Silent Graves (Brandon Fisher FBI Series) Page 21