Midnight Fear

by Leslie Tentler

  At the fork dividing the two trails, Caitlyn traveled into the trees, in the direction of the shooting targets she’d used with Reid not long ago. She lengthened Sampson’s stride, trying to lose herself in the beat of his hooves on the hard earth and the flash of fall colors overhead. Sunlight reached as best it could through the orange-and-gold-leaf canopy, dappling the ground below her. Caitlyn leaned closer to the horse, making her body nearly one with it. She urged Sampson to go faster, squeezing his sides with her legs. Joshua, Bliss, the webcam—all of it seemed to whirl around inside her head. Frustration and a helpless anger gnawed at her insides.

  A half-fallen tree lay propped on a low, stone wall near a creek bed a hundred or so yards ahead of them. It must have gone down with the recent rain but had not yet been reported by the other riders. For several seconds, Caitlyn considered her options—slowing to a canter and going off the trail around it, or jumping the fallen tree.

  Sampson was an accomplished jumper. So was she. But the partially downed tree was at a high, odd angle and the creek bank appeared muddy and slick. Despite this knowledge, Caitlyn felt an uncommon recklessness. The need for speed. Pushing Sampson on, they continued their mad gallop. As she neared the trunk, however, she realized its incline was even steeper than she first thought. Apprehension glided through her.

  Still, she kept going.

  Reid witnessed Caitlyn’s approach. Borrowing one of the horses from the stables, he’d taken a shortcut through the beginner’s trail, somehow knowing instinctively where she was headed. He nearly called out to her, but her name died inside his throat, fearing he might create a lethal distraction.

  He wasn’t a horseman, but even he could see the daredevil foolishness of the jump she was about to make. Caitlyn looked wild, beautiful, her blond hair flying behind her.

  Jesus. Was she trying to kill herself?

  His lungs froze as the horse arched upward and sailed gracefully over the massive trunk. Its rear hooves barely cleared the uneven obstacle—seemingly by millimeters—and then it landed on the other side of the soft creek bed, sending mud and water flying. But the ride hadn’t stopped. The horse continued onward in a blur of chestnut and billowing black mane.

  “Caitlyn!”

  Reid kicked at his own horse’s sides, setting off after them. He called her name several more times, nearly having his head taken off by a low-lying tree branch, before he saw her look back. Momentarily, she slowed the horse’s pace, then came to a halt on the leaf-strewn trail in front of him. Reid was off his horse before it had even come to a full stop. He stalked forward, half assisting and half pulling Caitlyn off the panting animal’s back.

  “Damn it, Caitlyn. What the hell?” He caught her arms and gave her a small shake, scared by what he had just seen. It was then that he noticed how upset she appeared. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you realize how dangerous that was? What if—”

  “I can handle myself.”

  Still, he felt her body tremble a little under the heavy sweater she wore.

  “You could’ve broken your neck.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “You’re right. It was a stupid thing to do. I could’ve hurt Sampson.”

  “It’s not the horse I’m worried about.”

  Behind them, their animals snorted, clomping their hooves on the forest ground. Reid studied her. She wanted to seem strong, but it was clear the stress of the past week was beginning to wear on her. Caitlyn had gone out to the forest to be alone, to ride off her anger or whatever else she felt.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked, taking a step back from him and wiping a fleck of mud from her face with the cuff of her sweater.

  “I came looking for you. They told me at the stables you’d gone out riding by yourself. That’s not a good idea right now.” He nodded back toward the half-fallen tree, not yet ready to let it go. “Neither is trying to jump that.”

  She pressed her lips together. Reid noticed how she cradled her hand inside the brace and he hoped she hadn’t reinjured it during the jump.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Reid wondered if she was telling the truth. He released a tense breath and gazed into the tree boughs over their heads. He didn’t want to leave her, but it was why he’d come out after her.

  “What is it?” she asked, apparently sensing that he had something on his mind.

  “Manny Ruiz is at the stables. He came back a couple of days early.”

  Her tone was cautious. “That’s…good.”

  Reid paused. “I have to get back to the District. Tonight. Mitch just called. He needs me there for a briefing. I’m going to be starting back to duty this weekend.”

  Her face paled. “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Caitlyn. They found Bliss.”

  34

  As Reid and Caitlyn approached the stables, she saw Manny waiting for them by the schooling ring used for horse training. A dark-haired, teenage girl stood with him.

  “You okay, Caitlyn?” he asked as she and Reid dismounted. His concerned gaze lingered on her bruised temple. “Agent Novak told me about what happened in the hospital parking garage.”

  “I’m fine,” Caitlyn assured him, even though she felt shattered inside. She suspected Manny had also been informed of her friend’s murder.

  Reid took Sampson’s reins and led both their horses into the stable. On their ride back from the woods, he’d told her that Bliss’s body had been discovered that morning, dumped beneath an interstate overpass just outside of D.C. Caitlyn tried to tamp down the pain and guilt she felt. She’d been preparing herself, but she realized now a small part of her had been holding out hope that Bliss would be found alive.

  “Caitlyn, this is my daughter, Maria,” Manny said. The teenager mumbled a shy greeting, her eyes flicking briefly upward to Caitlyn’s before returning to the packed dirt.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Maria.” She did her best to appear welcoming.

  “If it’s all right, Maria’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

  “Of course.” Caitlyn thought of the apartment over the stables. It had only a small living area, an efficiency kitchen and single bedroom. “But do you think you’ll have enough room?”

  “The couch unfolds into a bed. We’ll do just fine.”

  Caitlyn knew from a previous conversation with Manny that Maria was thirteen. The girl was thin, with dark hair and sad, chocolate eyes. Manny had gone to Texas to reunite with his daughter, but Caitlyn hadn’t expected him to return with her. She thought of him running away with Maria once before and hoped this time she was here with her mother’s permission.

  “I’d like to have a word with you, Ruiz,” Reid said upon returning. “Maybe we should go into Caitlyn’s office.”

  “Okay…” Manny sounded hesitant.

  “You’re not in any trouble,” Caitlyn told him quietly.

  He lifted his ball cap from his head and ran a hand through his thick hair before settling it back into place. Once the men walked away, Caitlyn placed her hand on Maria’s shoulder. “Maybe I can show you around while they’re inside. If Manny hasn’t already?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Call me Caitlyn, okay? Do you like horses?”

  “I love them.” A spark of interest lit her eyes.

  Caitlyn watched as Reid and Manny disappeared into the stables. She was all too aware the topic of conversation would be her safety, and what Manny could do to help protect her in Reid’s absence.

  “I’m sorry I have to leave.”

  “Don’t be. I understand.”

  They were back at the farmhouse, having returned there after the stables closed for the afternoon. Reid had already been upstairs to pack, and his duffel bag now sat in the living room. His slate-gray eyes held worry. “I know the news about Bliss Harper has hit you pretty hard.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, determined to hide her feelings.
“You’re needed in the city. Probably much more than I need you. I’m just grateful for the time you’ve been here.”

  “Manny coming back a couple of days early was good timing,” Reid said as he picked up the duffel, slung its strap over his shoulder and walked to where she stood. “He and his daughter will be staying with you in the evenings. There will also be a patrol unit doing a check on the grounds several times each night.”

  She nodded, thinking that at least Manny and Maria would have more room in her house than in the cramped apartment over the stables.

  “This is important, Caitlyn. I don’t want you going out alone. You stay here or you take someone with you. And definitely no more going into the woods by yourself. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” she agreed, then asked the question that had been on her mind. “Has Bliss’s family been notified?”

  “It hasn’t made the news yet, which probably means they’re still notifying next of kin before releasing the victim’s identity.”

  Caitlyn bowed her head. She thought of Bliss’s mother and father, her two siblings. How many slumber parties and birthday events had she been to at the Harper household growing up? She and Bliss had been roommates at equine camp during the summers. They had been in ballet recitals together. Now she was…gone.

  “This isn’t your fault,” he reminded.

  She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t. “I’m going to the funeral, Reid. I’ll be coming back to D.C. next week.”

  He frowned. “I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

  She understood his reservations. The funeral would be a media frenzy, and having the sister of the original Capital Killer in attendance would only add fuel to the fire. Worse, she didn’t know how the Harper family would react to seeing her. William Harper was a well-respected appellate judge. He and his wife had been close friends with Caitlyn’s parents, but they were also among the many people who’d broken ties with her family after Joshua’s arrest. Only Bliss had stayed in contact with Caitlyn, and this was what it had gotten her.

  Even if Reid told her not to blame herself, she feared the Harper family would. Still, she had to be there for Bliss. To say goodbye.

  “I have to go,” she said. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  Finally, he gave a small nod. “As soon as the funeral’s scheduled, we’ll make arrangements.”

  Caitlyn felt her heart ache. It seemed to her the world was moving too fast, and growing more insane with each passing hour.

  Reid moved to the door. She could hear the solemn ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer behind him.

  “Set the alarm and open it only for Manny and his daughter. They’ll be here before dark.” His eyes held hers. “Take care, Caitlyn.”

  The fluorescent lighting inside the conference room cast a pall over Mitch’s blunt features. For the past forty-five minutes, he’d been briefing members of the joint D.C. police and FBI task force on the latest details of the investigation. More than twenty law enforcement personnel had been called in for the Friday night meeting. Reid leaned against the far wall near the window, his arms crossed over his chest. On a display board behind Mitch and SAC Johnston were blown-up photos of the four women who had been killed, including Bliss Harper. There was also a grainy black-and-white image of the van seen leaving the hospital parking deck following Caitlyn’s attack.

  “Take one and pass the others down,” Mitch instructed the room as Agent Morehouse stepped forward and handed the stack of photocopied sheets to a police detective in the front row. “The man in the photo is David Hunter. Caucasian male, mid-thirties, six foot, receding hairline. He escaped a psychiatric hold at Washington Hospital earlier this week.”

  “This is our guy?” the detective asked.

  “He’s only a person of interest at this point,” Mitch clarified. “But he is wanted for assaulting a federal officer. He should be considered mentally unstable and has been known to carry a weapon, so approach with caution. His photo’s been circulated to local news outlets, as well.”

  Reid listened as Mitch fielded several other questions, including one about talking to the media.

  “Tell any reporter to get in touch with SAC Johnston, Agent Novak or myself. For anyone else, your reply is ‘no comment.’ I’m dead serious about no more leaks.”

  Another hand went up. “Do we have a profile of the killer, or should we just be looking for Hunter?”

  “Agent Novak?” Mitch yielded the floor and Reid walked to the front of the room.

  “Our data’s preliminary, but more than likely we’re looking for a white male, mid-thirties to early forties, unremarkable physical appearance, although he’s strong enough to overpower a woman and relocate the body postmortem,” Reid said, starting with the physical assessment. He moved into the intellectual and psychological aspects. “We think he has at least a four-year university degree and is gainfully employed, possibly even in a position of power or authority. He may be congenial, but masking a deep-seated anger toward women.”

  “You think?” A uniform gave a snorting laugh.

  Reid looked at him. “The bottom line is we’re not looking for a lowlife here. The unsub is probably white collar, no criminal record and well integrated into society. In all likelihood, the victims don’t perceive him as an immediate threat. In fact, they may have initially felt safe around him.”

  “Has the copycat been in contact with Joshua Cahill?” The question came from an agent in the back of the room.

  “We considered that early on, but to our knowledge, no,” Mitch supplied. “Cahill’s correspondence and visitations are being monitored. We’ve also looked into the prison guards working the wing where Cahill is being kept, but they’ve all turned up clean.”

  “Is that all, Agent Tierney?” SAC Johnston asked when the questions ebbed.

  Mitch responded in the affirmative, and Johnston moved to the center of the briefing table. The room’s fluorescent lighting reflected off his bald head, and he placed his hands on his hips, revealing muscular forearms. “As many of you are aware, Bliss Harper—the latest victim—is the daughter of William H. Harper, a high court appellate judge. The pressure is going to rise on arresting a suspect—let’s make it happen soon. One more thing. Those of you who helped canvas the area where Ms. Harper’s body was found need to report to Agent Morehouse in room three.”

  As the group dispersed, several of the Bureau’s field agents greeted Reid, welcoming him back. He shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, then began helping Mitch pack up the photos and other items from the investigation.

  “How’d I do?” Mitch asked.

  “You were solid,” Reid told him, meaning it.

  “SAC Johnston would probably prefer you take over as lead.”

  “If Johnston wanted that, trust me, he would’ve said so.” Reid briefly examined the series of cellophane bags that held the chess pawns—now four of them—as well as the Tiffany horseshoe charm that had been used to identify the first victim found in the row house. Mitch saw him looking at the charm.

  “Speaking of horse country, how’s Ms. Cahill?”

  Reid had told him about the call Caitlyn had received from Joshua, and about the web camera hidden inside her home. He put the items in a labeled cardboard box, which would have to be returned to the evidence room. “She’s upset about Bliss Harper. They were close friends.”

  “Did you work out any local protection for her?”

  “I’ve got the Middleburg Police conducting drive-bys and Manny Ruiz staying at her house.”

  Mitch shook his head. “From convict to crusader.”

  “Without Bureau approval for a security detail, I don’t have much choice. But Caitlyn trusts him. I’m starting to, as well.”

  “You ask me, a leopard doesn’t change its spots. Once a con, always a con.” Mitch tossed the remaining flyers with Hunter’s photo on them into a waste-basket. “I’m on my way to the morgue. The M.E. just got permission from the Harper fam
ily to perform the autopsy. Judge Harper’s a VIP, so they’re not waiting until Monday.”

  Reid drew in a tight breath. Bliss’s photo lay on top of the items he’d placed inside the evidence box. It stared out at him.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  35

  Caitlyn returned downstairs once she’d gotten Maria settled into one of the guest rooms. The teenager had been thrilled by the four-poster bed and homey patchwork quilt with eyelet ruffle, and Caitlyn had left her listening to her iPod. As she walked into the kitchen, she found Manny nursing a cup of coffee.

  “I have a gun safe,” she mentioned, noticing his shotgun that leaned against the wall next to the fridge. “Or do you anticipate needing that?”

  Manny smiled. “Hopefully not. But I like to be prepared.”

  “Is this decaf?”

  When he nodded, she poured a cup for herself and sat down across from him.

  “How are you doing, Caitlyn?” he asked.

  She shrugged, trying to count how many times she’d been asked that question over the past few days. Searching for a change of subject, she said, “I guess you heard about the copperhead outside the stables.”

  “I heard your FBI agent blew it away.” He chuckled. “Some of the handlers couldn’t wait to tell me. There hasn’t been that much drama around here since…”

  He fell silent, and Caitlyn realized he’d almost mentioned Aggie, or possibly his detainment by law enforcement.

  “Sorry, Caitlyn.”

  “It’s okay.” She took a sip of coffee, thinking of the past few weeks. “There’s been a lot of activity around here lately. So much for the quiet country life.”

  He nodded in stoic agreement. Caitlyn decided to take the opportunity of their being alone together to broach the topic of his daughter.

  “Maria seems like a very sweet girl. And I want you to know she’s welcome here, Manny, for as long as you need. But I didn’t realize you were planning to bring her back with you.”