Midnight Fear

by Leslie Tentler

  “I’ve been trying to reach you, too, sweetheart.” He stepped closer and laid a hand on her shoulder, then slid it down to her upper arm. Caitlyn stiffened a little. She turned as Reid made himself known. Her skin was attractively flushed, and her lips appeared slightly swollen from their kisses.

  “Rob, this is Agent Novak with the FBI. Reid, my neighbor, Robert Treadwell.”

  The man appeared surprised by Reid’s presence, but he quickly recovered and moved forward to shake hands. “I didn’t realize you had company, Caitlyn. Or is this official business?”

  “I’m staying at the farm for a couple of days, until we can get some security worked out for Ms. Cahill,” Reid explained.

  “So you’re her bodyguard?”

  “Something like that.”

  Rob placed his hands in his trouser pockets and gave him an evaluating gaze. “I have to admit I recognized you from the Capital Killer investigation, Agent Novak. The original one, of course. I followed it closely. But I haven’t heard your name in any of the news reports on the copycat case so far. Instead there’s been a…” He snapped his fingers, searching for the name.

  “Agent Tierney,” Reid supplied. “He was part of the first investigation, as well.”

  “But you’re not the lead this time? That is the proper terminology, isn’t it?”

  “Rob,” Caitlyn chided gently.

  He gave a small laugh. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m naturally inquisitive and all this cops and serial-killer stuff fascinates me. My wife’s always teasing me about watching the true crime channel.”

  “Where is Sophie?” Caitlyn asked.

  “She’s at home. I was on my way back from a business meeting in the District and thought I should stop by to check on the place. I didn’t expect to see the lights on and your car outside.”

  “Thank you for checking, but I’m really fine,” Caitlyn said. Her voice sounded a bit strained. “Please tell Sophie I’ll call her soon.”

  “She’s going to want you to come for dinner.” He patted Caitlyn’s arm. “And we won’t take no for an answer the next time.”

  He bid good-night to them both, then left through the foyer. Caitlyn locked the front door after he’d left the porch. They stood in silence until they heard Rob’s vehicle start up and disappear down the driveway.

  “Interesting guy,” Reid said.

  “They’ve been good neighbors. Rob’s a very successful architect and Sophie writes children’s books.”

  “But they’re not good neighbors now?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Reid shrugged, observing the rigidity in her shoulders and the way she’d crossed her slender arms over her chest. “You just seem a little tense around him, that’s all.”

  Caitlyn hesitated, as if deciding what to say. “I’m not sure, but I think he might’ve made a pass at me last week.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “Maybe I misread his signals and he really is just being protective of me. But since then, I haven’t felt comfortable. His wife is a good friend of mine.”

  Reid didn’t ask for specifics. He could see Caitlyn’s concern was genuine, and he’d noted that the way the man touched her seemed overly familiar. He made a mental note to check into Treadwell through the FBI database, just to be sure there wasn’t anything in his background. Regardless, his unexpected arrival seemed to have thrown water on the fire that had been nearly out of control between Caitlyn and himself.

  Maybe it was for the best, he rationalized despite the disappointment he felt. Caitlyn had mentioned her fiancé—the one who’d ended things with her during the first Capital Killer debacle. Reid had been engaged for a while, too. But Andrea had faded from the picture when he became ill. If there was a chance he was sick again, he didn’t need to bring Caitlyn into something like that. He had a feeling if they truly came together, it wouldn’t be a one-night stand. Caitlyn wouldn’t let him down.

  Caitlyn went into the bathroom to prepare for bed, unable to stop thinking about what had happened earlier. Her mind was preoccupied with the way Reid had touched her and her white-hot response to him that so clearly illuminated her need.

  Neither of them had brought up their romantic interlude, however. Once Rob was gone, Reid had built a fire in the stacked-stone hearth, then left Caitlyn to watch television while he made some phone calls in the kitchen. When he returned, he had kept a careful distance, sitting in the wing chair instead of on the couch beside her.

  She wondered if he again regretted what had happened.

  At least she’d been with him a solid twelve hours and there had been no recurrence of the debilitating headache she’d witnessed the previous night. She had planned to talk to him about it again, hoping the time spent together would encourage him to open up to her. If there was anything to open up to her about. Caitlyn stared at herself in the mirror, unsure. Then she picked up the hand brace from the vanity and sat on the toilet’s closed lid, balancing the cumbersome device on her thighs so she could attach the Velcro straps.

  The noise coming from somewhere inside the room was barely audible—a faint, mechanical whirring sound. Caitlyn looked around, wondering what it was. But it just as quickly disappeared. She stood with a sigh, moving back to the vanity to brush her teeth, but stopped in midstep. There it was again.

  Whir.

  What was that noise? It seemed vaguely familiar, but she still couldn’t place it inside the confines of the bathroom. Had it always been there? Usually she had running water in the sink or shower, as well as a small CD player she used to listen to jazz. Tonight, she had turned it off, not wanting anything else to compete with the thoughts running rampant inside her head.

  When she moved to the linen closet for a clean hand towel, she heard the sound once more. Her curiosity piqued, she crouched on the hardwood floor, realizing it was coming from the air vent. As she peered between the metal bars of the Victorian-style grate, the whirring started again.

  She saw something round. A cylinder. Something glass?

  Inside the closet, she located a small toolbox she kept there for minor repairs. She knelt on the floor again, using her uninjured hand to loosen the grate screws with a small screwdriver. As she worked, she didn’t hear the sound again. Finally, the last of the four screws dropped out and Caitlyn removed the iron grate.

  With a shock, she realized why she’d recognized the sound. The lens of a video camera stared back at her, the whirring noise its autofocus.

  Caitlyn let herself out of the bathroom. She hurried down the hall and knocked on Reid’s bedroom door, which was closed although the light inside was still on. “Reid?”

  “Coming,” he said. A moment later he opened the door, wearing jeans but nothing else. She’d apparently caught him as he’d been undressing for bed. His broad chest was toned and sprinkled with a light dusting of dark hair.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing her face.

  “Please, come take a look.”

  He followed her, and Caitlyn realized he had picked up his gun, not that it would do any good against the thing she was about to show him.

  “What is it?”

  “Down there.” She pointed at the open, black hole where the grate had been.

  Reid moved closer, staring down into the space. She heard him curse. He turned to look at her, his features hard.

  Caitlyn wrapped her arms around herself. Not even the intrusive reporters during the first investigation had made her feel so invaded. Exposed.

  “Someone’s been watching me,” she said.

  32

  Bliss Harper writhed in a vain attempt to loosen her binds. Cold fear kept her trying, although her skin was raw and bleeding where she had repeatedly yanked at the tight cording.

  He would be back soon.

  Helpless tears formed in her eyes, clogging her throat and nearly suffocating her. The gag in her mouth was wet with her own saliva. She knew from her dull headache and dizziness that the stickiness on her
head was matted blood.

  How long had she been here? Time to her had lost all meaning, each second an eternity as she lay bound on the dirty, bloodstained mattress.

  She vaguely recalled him standing in the darkened recesses of Braden Cahill’s library. She’d felt terror—then relief—as she recognized him. He’d given her a good excuse for being there. At first, they’d talked about how Caitlyn was faring, but all the while she’d gotten an increasing feeling something was wrong. When he’d gotten too close, too friendly, Bliss had known it for certain.

  For a brief moment, she’d thought she might be able to talk her way out of things. Distract him long enough to run away, flee from the house or lock herself in the bathroom and use her cell to dial 911. But when he struck he’d been surprisingly quick. To her credit, she hadn’t gone down without a fight.

  Where was she? In some basement? It was dark and cold, and smelled of mildew.

  He had raped her repeatedly. Choked her with an electrical cord while he was on top of her. Burned her with cigarettes. The wounds hurt, throbbed…

  A muffled, terrified sob escaped her. She closed her eyes, trying to regain control over her fear. She would survive. She had lived through a disastrous marriage, a bitter divorce, started over on her career for…this? Too many people considered her soft because of her privileged upbringing, but she had proved her resilience. This wouldn’t be the way it would end. Someone would find her, they had to.

  The ceiling creaked overhead, causing perspiration to break out over her nude body. Heavy footsteps sounded. Oh, God. He’s back. Bile rose in her throat, her stomach clenching as she felt herself being pulled into the undertow of absolute panic. Bliss struggled frantically, feeling the sharp bite of the cords on her wrists and ankles.

  He came down the wood staircase. She saw his shadow lurking in the darkness of the windowless space, next to a washer and dryer. For a long time he stood there, motionless. Watching her. She tried to scream—beg—anything, but the thick gag in her mouth curtailed the sound.

  Finally he snapped on the light switch, illuminating the cinder-block room with a single, bare bulb that hung from a cord above her. Bliss blinked at the monster who stood in the doorway. He held a large knife.

  “Miss me?” he asked.

  33

  Reid stood in the living room with Cal Bernard, one of the Bureau’s computer specialists. Behind them, pale morning sunlight filtered through the lace curtains covering the large picture window.

  “Thanks for coming all the way out here, especially on a Friday,” Reid said.

  Cal had black hair pulled into a short ponytail and a well-trimmed beard. He took a sip of his coffee. “As a favor to you? No problem, Reid. I just wish I’d been able to tell you something more definitive. It’s going to be hard to find out who was on the other end of that connection.”

  “But not impossible?”

  “As soon as he realized you were on to him, the connection disappeared. Your voyeur went through over two-dozen chained proxy servers, including several outside the country. It’s a pretty elaborate setup—whoever the guy is, he’s a real computer geek.” Cal snorted. “Maybe the Bureau should recruit him.”

  Reid squeezed the bridge of his nose, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. He knew enough about computer forensics to understand Cal was talking about an advanced form of anonymous IP surfing. He didn’t have a lot of hope they would be able to find the origination point.

  Finishing his coffee, Cal picked up his laptop bag. “Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Reid walked him to the door, then watched as he got into his vehicle and disappeared down the road. When he turned around, Caitlyn stood on the staircase, barefoot and wearing a robe over her nightgown.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

  “A little. I’ve mostly been watching television in my room. I was trying to keep out of your way.”

  She went into the kitchen. He found her there, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot that had been made nearly three hours earlier when Cal had arrived before daybreak. She took a sip and frowned, then dumped the remainder of the coffee into the sink and started over with fresh beans. He waited until the noise of the coffee grinder died down before speaking again.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m pretty creeped out,” she admitted.

  “That’s understandable. We’ve been through the whole house. There are no other cameras.”

  The information didn’t appear to settle her. “Are you going to be able to find whoever put it there?”

  “Cal is going to try. He’s one of the best.”

  For a time, they stood in silence with the glub and hiss of the coffeemaker the only sound between them, and then Caitlyn asked, “Do you think it was Joshua’s copycat?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know, Caitlyn. There’s always the possibility it’s unrelated. Just someone random who gets a thrill watching…”

  He didn’t complete his sentence, he didn’t have to. The look on Caitlyn’s face made it clear she was thinking the same thing he was—someone who got off on watching women in the shower, in various stages of undress. Even watching them do…other things.

  Caitlyn leaned against the butcher-block counter. Her blond hair was bed-tousled and he could see the top of her white cotton nightgown peeking out from the V of her robe. On anyone else he might have considered the gown prim, but on her it appeared romantic and sweet.

  “I was wondering if whoever broke in here a couple of weeks ago did it to place the camera.”

  “That makes sense,” he acknowledged. It was something he’d already considered. “Especially since nothing seems to have been taken. Maybe the point of the break-in was to leave something behind, instead.”

  But at the same time, they had no idea how long the camera had actually been there.

  Caitlyn shook her head. “I just can’t believe I didn’t notice something like that. When I think about how many times I’ve been in there, not knowing, I feel like a fool.”

  “Hey.” He stepped closer. “No one expects to be watched in the privacy of their own home.”

  “Where is the camera now?”

  “I sent it with Cal. The lab will dust it for fingerprints and use the serial number to see if they can track it to a purchaser.”

  The truth was, Reid was angry about the webcam. Angrier than he wanted Caitlyn to know. If it was the copycat who’d planted it, it meant the son of a bitch had been inside the house. It was a terrifying thought. But if he’d gone to that amount of effort, why not just use the opportunity to take Caitlyn as his victim?

  “I want you to write down the names of any men who’ve had access to the house over the past six months. Anyone you can think of. Don’t try to decide for yourself if they could have done it. Let me work through the list.”

  She nodded, gazing at the coffee carafe, which was now over halfway full. “I’ll do it at the stable office this morning. It’s Friday, so there’s a lot going on. I need to get down there soon.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Concern appeared in her eyes. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you stay here and sleep for a few hours, then come down?”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he admitted with a sigh. He’d been too wired to even catch an hour of sleep while he’d been waiting for Cal to arrive. Instead, Reid had stayed in the living room for most of the night, grappling with the idea that someone had been watching Caitlyn in the most compromising of situations. If it wasn’t the unsub, it could have been anyone—a repairman who’d come in after the break-in, even one of her employees. There was no accounting for the perversions of otherwise normal men.

  One thing was for certain. If the hidden camera wasn’t directly linked to the copycat investigation, it was yet another traumatic event Caitlyn was being forced to deal with.

  “Some of these are going to have to be discarded. They’ve got mold,” Caitlyn told the worker as she examined the bales of ha
y grass and alfalfa that had been brought into the storage room for feed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We also need to reorder the sweet feed concentrate. We’re going to be out in another week.” She ticked off the other items the stables required, including a special mineral salt lick the vet had recommended as a supplement. Supplies normally fell under Manny’s responsibilities, but she didn’t want to wait for his return.

  “You want the whole grain mixed with molasses this time?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Rus.” Caitlyn looked over the remaining bales, pointing out a few more bad ones. It was just after 10:00 a.m. and the stables were bustling. Children and adolescents were gathered into groups around the horse stalls or in the classroom area for practical instruction. Already, Caitlyn had helped with participant sign-in, ordered box lunches for those who were staying past noon, and applied medication to the hooves of a thoroughbred that appeared to be in the early stages of a thrush infection.

  While all the tasks were necessary, they also gave her something to focus on besides her current situation. The discovery of the video camera had been unsettling, and she didn’t want to think about who it was who’d been watching her or for how long. Distracted and tense, Caitlyn found herself at the last stall, which housed one of the horses that was not part of the therapy program. The white-faced, chestnut thoroughbred named Sampson was a sleek, powerful animal built for speed. It whinnied and stamped its hooves in recognition as Caitlyn entered the enclosed space. For a time, she cooed and petted the horse. She needed a release, she realized as she ran her hand over its silky mane.

  The woods near the stables called to her.

  One of the workers helped her to saddle and bridle the horse. Caitlyn disregarded the man’s worried gaze and polite suggestion that riding such a spirited animal with her injured hand might not be a good idea. Within moments she and Sampson were out of the stables and arena, starting off at a brisk trot. On the trail, Caitlyn expertly guided the horse around a group of other riders, leaving their lighthearted conversation behind her. The beginner’s trail was out in the open, running alongside the fenced paddocks and farmland, but the more experienced riders often took the more rugged, scenic path through the woods.