Midnight Fear

by Leslie Tentler

  “I’m your only son, Dad,” Reid responded as he walked into McCauley’s Grill, dutifully playing along with his father’s well-worn joke. A handful of Ben Novak’s friends, all retired cops, chuckled and slapped Reid’s back in greeting. They were gathered around a table cluttered with the remnants of bar food—wings, burgers and sweating mugs of dark beer.

  Reid slid his gift into the pile of wrapped presents. He put a hand on his father’s shoulder and spoke into his ear. “Sorry I’m late, Dad.”

  “You’ve missed the food, unless you want table scraps.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Aren’t you back on the job soon?” Leo Purcell, his father’s former partner, interjected. He patted his own protruding belly. “You’re looking too thin, Reid. Better bulk up—law enforcement’s more intimidating with a few pounds on ya.”

  “That would be pounds of muscle, not fat,” Ben quipped, giving Leo’s paunch a poke with his elbow. “Besides, the Feds like their boys lean and mean. That way they look more GQ in their fancy suits.”

  Another round of laughter exploded inside the tavern, competing with the noise coming from a row of occupied pool tables and a jukebox playing an eighties Bob Seger song.

  “At least he made it in time for cake,” Megan acknowledged, giving her brother a look of feigned disapproval. She cleared a path through the men so Maddie and Isabelle could make their way to the table. The girls carried a sheet cake carefully between them that was decorated with glowing candles and a police shield made of gold fondant icing.

  “Better get started—you’ve got some catching up to do,” Cooper, Reid’s brother-in-law, advised. He pressed a foamy beer mug into Reid’s hand as the group broke into a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Taking a sip, Reid watched as his father continued cutting up with his friends, an arm around each of his granddaughters.

  “Way to go. You almost missed Dad’s birthday,” Megan said to Reid once the plates of cake had been passed around. She’d come over to where he stood at the edge of the crowd.

  “Almost,” Reid pointed out in his defense.

  “Where were you?”

  “We had an arrestee—”

  “Have I mentioned you aren’t supposed to be working yet?”

  “I had a vested interest.” He took a bite of the devil’s food cake his sister had brought him. “The perp pulled a gun on me.”

  Megan’s eyes widened. “Where?”

  “In Middleburg.”

  “The case you’re not supposed to be on, but are,” she recalled. “What’s the attraction up there, Reid? You’re not even cleared for duty yet.”

  He sighed and set his paper plate on the bar behind them. He’d always trusted Megan, had told her things he probably shouldn’t about the cases he worked. She often served as his confidante, the one he turned to when he needed a sounding board or perspective other than his own or Mitch’s. She was also the first person he’d told after the doctors had diagnosed his brain tumor. They had gone to their father together to break the news.

  “Okay, so don’t tell me—”

  “There’s a tie-in to the Capital Killer case,” he confided, his voice low. “It hasn’t hit the news yet, but in all likelihood we’ve got a copycat. We have two victims already.”

  “Which is why they brought you back in early.” Megan appeared worried. “God, Reid. The timing’s horrible. You’ve been ill, and I know what the first case did to you.”

  He laughed weakly. “Killers don’t give a damn about timing.”

  “So why were you in Middleburg?”

  “Senator Cahill’s daughter is involved. I was out at her place today.”

  “Cahill?” She frowned, shaking her head. “That’s a name I’d hoped to never hear again. Not after what Braden Cahill did to you. Talk about an abuse of power. He nearly got you booted out of the FBI—”

  “Senator Cahill’s dead, Megan. And Caitlyn’s not to blame for anything that happened.”

  “You’re on a first-name basis with Braden Cahill’s daughter?” Her brow furrowed as she processed this information. “And you were at her place when someone pulled a gun on you?”

  “On both of us, actually.”

  Reid was relieved she didn’t push for further details on his relationship with Caitlyn, or why exactly he had gone out there. Instead she asked, “Who was the guy?”

  “The widower of Joshua Cahill’s last victim. Mitch thinks he might be our unsub, but I don’t agree. The guy’s a mess psychologically. He never recovered from his wife’s murder. He’s unstable but my gut says he isn’t a serial killer.”

  “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “We arrested him for assault with a deadly weapon. I just got back from the interrogation. He’s being transferred to Washington Hospital for a full psych evaluation.”

  Reid looked across the room at their father, who stood in the doorway, bidding good-night to his old cronies. He felt a tug of emotion. Ben Novak looked good for his age and seemed to be in excellent health, but sixty was a milestone. Their mother would have been fifty-eight now. Reid felt Megan touch his arm. When he looked at her, he saw the anxiety in her eyes.

  “I know you, Reid. There’s something else. What is it?”

  He used all of his self-control not to tell her more. And if he did, where would he even begin? What had happened with Caitlyn, the other details of the investigation, the headaches he’d been having and the results of the MRI he was waiting to receive—it all seemed too much to handle. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Reid looked into her eyes.

  “Nothing, worrywart.” He gave her a tight smile. “And now that the crowd’s thinning, I’m going over to talk to the birthday boy.”

  “Thanks for coming, son.”

  Reid pulled his hands from his pockets, where he’d been warming them against the brisk night air outside McCauley’s. “You know I wouldn’t miss it, Dad. Sorry again for being late.”

  “Better late than never.” Smiling, Ben enveloped his son in a bear hug. Reid embraced him back, his chest tightening as he felt his father’s sturdy frame.

  “Sure you’re okay to drive home?” Reid queried.

  “Are you asking if I’m piss-drunk?”

  “You had a few.”

  Ben chuckled. “Relax. I’m entitled. Cooper and Megan are giving me a ride.”

  Reid nodded. The group had dwindled to just family, and his sister and the others were still inside boxing up the leftover birthday cake. He waited with his father, making small talk until Cooper, Megan and the girls loaded into their Jeep Cherokee for the trip to Ben’s condo and then back to Silver Spring.

  Since weekend parking was scarce in the Adams Morgan neighborhood where Reid lived, he had opted for the D.C. Metrorail in lieu of driving. Reid walked the two blocks from the bar, then used his fare card to get into the station and went down the escalator. Checking his watch at the platform, he took a seat on one of the benches. The station wasn’t nearly as full as during the workweek, but there were still handfuls of passengers strolling around, some with city maps marking them as obvious tourists. Above him, the station’s skylight was filled with black night, and the sound of an approaching train rumbled inside the long tunnel. Reid glanced up at the flashing sign announcing its arrival; it wasn’t his.

  He people-watched as the group that was gathered on the platform waited for the doors to open, then bustled inside. The train was already fairly tight with passengers, and through the windows he could see the newer ones taking what was left of the available seats or gripping vinyl loops hanging from the ceiling to anchor them for the ride.

  Reid felt electricity prickle his skin.

  Julianne Hunter sat in the last seat, her blond hair half shielding her face. She wore the same prim, plaid skirt and white blouse as on the night in the abandoned factory, the collar bloodstained. In disbelief, Reid stood as she gazed back at him, a puzzled expression on her pretty features.

  Juli
anne’s face had haunted him for all these months since her death—he recognized it as easily as his own reflection. Reid made a run for the door as it began to slide closed but it shut a half second before he reached it. He banged on the Plexiglas window, causing passengers to turn in his direction.

  The train began to move. Reid jogged alongside it, keeping his eyes on Julianne. She watched him with a mild curiosity, then returned her attention to a book she held open in her lap. Unwilling to let her go, he sprinted along the platform until the train finally outpaced him, barreling into the darkened corridor. Out of breath, Reid gulped air, his lungs squeezing. His heart felt as though it might slam out of his chest.

  Doing his best to ignore the curious stares, he shouldered through the crowd and headed into the men’s restroom. His hands trembled as he turned on the faucet in one of the basins and splashed cold water onto his face.

  His head swam with confusion, a faint throbbing at its center that announced an impending headache. Julianne was dead—he had watched the life drain out of her. Her blood had coated his jacket as he fought to save her life. But despite what he had just seen, Reid didn’t believe in doppelgangers or ghosts. He was too much of a realist for that.

  The only explanation was something he desperately didn’t want to face. Anxiety hit him like a hard blow in the chest. Perspiring, he waited in the bathroom for several minutes, trying to compose himself before going back out into the station.

  20

  Caitlyn waited outside the closed door in the corridor of Springdale Penitentiary. Dread pooled in her stomach, but she kept her shoulders rigid, vowing not to show weakness.

  “It’s going to be fine, Caitlyn,” Reid reaffirmed, standing beside her. But the tense look around his eyes negated his words. “We’ve made no promises other than a private visit—five minutes, no more and no less. His wrists are shackled to the table. He won’t be able to touch you.”

  Agent Tierney walked from where he had been conversing with a muscled prison guard, reminding Caitlyn of his presence, as well. “We’ll be keeping an eye out through the observation window, Ms. Cahill. Remember our goal.”

  She released a tight breath. “To get a location on the remains.”

  “I don’t like this.” Whether Reid muttered the statement to himself or intended for someone else to hear it, Caitlyn wasn’t sure. She’d met the two agents at the VCU offices in D.C., and they’d traveled together by car to the federal prison in Maryland. Reid had been pensive and brooding for most of the ride.

  What occurred between us this afternoon was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it happen.

  Caitlyn recalled his regret about their kiss and felt her chest constrict all over again.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  When she gave a small nod, the guard moved to unlock the door. She walked inside the room on wobbly legs, her eyes meeting her brother’s for the first time in two years. Physically, prison appeared to have changed Joshua little—he was thin and wiry, his raven hair still worn shaggy and hanging into his dark eyes. He had grown a goatee, making her wonder if it was an attempt to look tougher, more streetwise. The ugly, orange prison jumpsuit he wore clashed with his olive skin. It had a series of numbers printed on its front pocket.

  “Hello, Caity.” Joshua lifted his hand in a small wave, his movement restricted by the handcuffs attached to the table where he sat. “It’s good to see you.”

  Caitlyn jumped involuntarily as the guard closed the door behind her, leaving them alone.

  “Want a seat?”

  Stiffly, she sat down across from him. Her mouth felt dry, and she realized her heart was racing. “How are you, Joshua?”

  “I’m good.” He rattled the handcuffs that tethered him and gave her a weak smile. “Considering.”

  His dark eyes darted over her, causing goose bumps to rise along her flesh. Caitlyn clenched her hands together in her lap, her whitened knuckles hidden from him by the tabletop.

  “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “I have.”

  Solemn, he considered this. “I hope you’ve been able to get on with your life, at least.”

  Her chin rose slightly, although she didn’t speak.

  “I hear you’re running an equine therapy program.” He fidgeted in his chair. Was he as nervous as she? “It makes sense. I remember how you always loved your horses.”

  Caitlyn studied Joshua’s mild features, trying to identify some monster lurking within him. Was it still there, or had the medication and psychiatrists finally managed to exorcise it? Reid firmly believed he hadn’t changed.

  “How’s Mom?”

  “She’s…in a home now.” When Joshua’s forehead wrinkled in surprise, she added, “I had to put her there several months ago. Most likely she’s in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s, although the specialists disagree on a diagnosis.”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked genuinely sad. “I didn’t know.”

  Whatever had claimed Caroline, Caitlyn knew one truth. Her brother’s crimes were the catalyst.

  “Mom’s being well cared for,” she said, tamping down the resentment she felt. “She’s at the Vinings Care Facility in Foggy Bottom. I’m selling the house in Georgetown to help pay for it.”

  He sighed. “I know how hard all this must have been on you, Caity.”

  “What about the families of the victims whose lives you took?” she asked quietly, unable to stop herself. “I’m sure it was much harder on them.”

  “I was sick.” Joshua’s eyes captured hers. “I have to live with what I did every day. And I’ll pay for it the rest of my life. No possibility of parole means I’m never going to get out of here. Do you understand that? I need to at least have some absolution from you.”

  “You could have told me, Joshua.” She stared down at her hands, trying to continue. “You could have told me about the…urges you were having. Maybe I could have—”

  “Helped?”

  Caitlyn looked at him.

  “You saw my journal. What I fantasized about doing to women. What I did do to them, eventually. Do you really think you could’ve stopped me?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  He gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head in seeming amusement. In a quiet voice he added, “I used to have the same fantasies about you.”

  The temperature inside the small room seemed to drop by twenty degrees. Caitlyn’s breath came out in a little hiss as she stared at Joshua. His dark eyes had changed, appearing black and pupiless. “You were my muse, Caity. Didn’t you know that?”

  “Don’t.”

  “You want to know the truth. I’m giving it to you.”

  Taking a breath, Caitlyn pushed on. “But you never…hurt me. You didn’t try to kill me.”

  He glanced at the smoky window, then lowered his voice to a near whisper. “But I wanted to. So much. I used to jack off thinking about it. I’d imagine sneaking up on you when no one was home, tying you down and—”

  Her chair scraped backward as Caitlyn stood, blood rushing in her ears. At nearly the same second, the door to the room flew open. Reid stalked inside, his eyes on Joshua. “Time’s up.”

  Joshua smirked. “Not according to the clock on the wall, Agent Novak.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” Reid pulled at Caitlyn’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “We’re not done.” Caitlyn’s voice came out shakily. She would see this through. No matter what Joshua said to her, she wasn’t leaving here without the information he’d promised. She wasn’t going to have gone through this for nothing. Caitlyn’s eyes locked with Reid’s. “Give us two more minutes.”

  His features appeared strained, but he left the room again. Caitlyn turned back to Joshua. His eyebrows were raised in amusement.

  “Novak’s become your knight in shining armor, Caity. It was very gallant, the way he charged in here.”

  Caitlyn returned to her chair. She pushed a yellow notepad and pen that
lay on the table toward Joshua’s shackled hands.

  “Are you giving him any pussy?”

  The vileness inside Joshua was clearer to her than it had ever been before. It was as if the quiet, reserved person she had known could be instantly drawn into the shadows, replaced at will by the disgusting creature in front of her. Reid was right. No medications, no doctors could ever drain the evil from inside him.

  “Just give me the location—” she swallowed down her disgust “—of the remains of the other women you killed.”

  He blinked at her innocently. “Other women?”

  “Don’t play games.”

  A ghost smile appeared on his lips. Joshua reached for the pen, his handcuffs rattling against the restraint. “I only promised one. You want more, you’ll have to come visit again.”

  As Caitlyn left the room, the prison guard moved past her, ready to take Joshua back to his cell. She clenched the paper tightly in her fingers. Reid and Agent Tierney waited for her in front of the smoked-glass window. Tierney appeared poised, his arms folded over his chest and his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms sprinkled with coarse hair. Reid was an altogether different matter, however. He looked stressed, and his eyes seemed to assess Caitlyn for some visible sign of damage. His face was flushed above the collar of his blue dress shirt. She realized it had taken every ounce of self-control he had to leave her alone with Joshua after the things he had no doubt heard him say to her through the room’s intercom.

  “Donna Faust is at Deep Creek Lake,” she stated quietly, holding out the paper. “He drew a map to the location. It’s pretty specific.”

  “That’s helpful of him. If he isn’t sending us on a wild-goose chase.” Agent Tierney stepped forward and took it, studying the drawing.

  Reid moved closer to her. “It’s over now.”

  “It’s not over and you know it.” Caitlyn stared at him. “Not until he gives up the other bodies, however many there are. Those women need to be laid to rest.”

  “It’s an hour from here to Deep Creek. We need to get out there.” Agent Tierney folded the paper and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll have Morehouse meet us at the site with Forensics.”