by Robin Mahle
Nick looked at Burgess and began shaking his head. “All right. Why don’t you all meet us here? We’re a couple hundred yards south of the house, near the property’s main entrance.” He ended the call and placed the phone back in his pocket. “We’ll regroup and decide where to go from here. They’ve got squat so I told them to meet us.”
“We can’t sit on this for long,” Burgess replied.
“I know.”
» » »
Durham focused his attentions on the man at the wheel. “Could you pull over for a minute? I’m sorry, I just feel like I’m gonna toss my cookies.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Of course, yeah.” He pulled across the lane onto the shoulder.
Durham pushed open the passenger door and leaned out. When he was confident Hank had shifted the gear into park, he raised his left leg and, with his heavy, sodden boot, struck the man in the head. The older man was slow to react and released an excruciating bellow.
Zachariah Durham was anything but slow and, with his wiry body, drew upright again and began to pummel the man’s face, looming over him with the beast in his eyes.
Hank tried to shield himself with his bulky forearms, but could not slow the assault. His lips moved as if trying to speak, but the blows to his head made it impossible for words to form.
“You know who I am?” Durham shouted. “Who am I? Who the fuck am I?” He needed to dominate the man, just as he had the others. Kill him. Kill him. The voice in his head filled him with even greater strength until finally, Hank fell unconscious.
Durham’s eyes shifted wildly, ensuring no other vehicles were approaching and reached for the keys still in the ignition. He looked back at Hank, whose mouth hung open, spilling blood—swollen eyes and cheeks. Durham had to finish him and drove one of the keys with brute force into his throat and blood spewed from the hole. A few gurgling sounds erupted as Hank seemed to regain consciousness, but it didn’t last long. Pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, Durham looked at his own hands, covered in blood and his shoulder wound that seemed to have widened in the attack.
An overwhelming desire came upon him in a frenzy. He’d never killed a man before, but that didn’t suppress his need to release the energy that built up after a kill. Durham unzipped his pants and rested his knees on the large man’s thigh. It only took moments for him to reach full excitement and release it over the body of the dead man.
He began to recover from the rush, slowing his breath and dropping his head. His eyes shot up toward the driver’s side door. Durham reached for the handle and opened it. He pushed the man out. Hank Greene of Palmdale, Florida, fell to the blacktop. His plump body smacked on the ground. With haste, Durham stepped out of the vehicle and dragged the nearly 250-pound man around the back of the car and down the slight slope of ground. There was no time to try and hide his body further from view. Durham was being hunted and so what did one more body matter?
He stepped back inside the car and wiped the blood from the keys. Turning over the engine, Durham pulled away and continued along the back road leading him toward the river, only he slammed on the brakes and spun the car around in a 360. He wasn’t going back there. The question remained: where would he go?
» » »
The team had converged and now stood over the remains of at least one additional victim of the Blackwater Killer. It was approaching midnight and, so far, Durham remained on the loose.
“I let him slip through my fingers.” Kate said, standing over the bones of the victim. “I took my shot and missed.”
“No one blames you for that, Kate,” Burgess said, seemingly preempting the words that were about to come from Nick’s lips. “If you hadn’t gone after him, albeit, by abandoning me, we wouldn’t have a damn clue as to where he was at. At least now we know he’s close and coming here was a logical step.”
“He’s right.” Nick cast a look to Burgess. “I can only assume we’ll find all three victims here. There could be more, and that means Durham has been at this a lot longer than any of us believed.”
“The key is to pinpoint his next move,” Dwight said. “But then, if we could do that, none of us would be standing here right now.”
Burgess’ radio crackled. “Deputy Burgess, come in, please.”
He pressed the receiver. “Burgess here.”
“We got a 911 call stating a body had been found on northbound State Route 257. Fresh tire marks were also found near the body and it’s assumed the victim’s car was stolen.”
Burgess looked to the team. “It’s gotta be him. It has to be.” He pressed on the receiver again. “Do we have the make and model of that car? Plates?”
“No sir, but the man still had identification.”
“Run the ID through MVD and get his registration information ASAP.”
“Ten-four.” The radio went silent again.
“How far away is State Route 257?” Dwight asked.
“It runs north and south and the nearest junction to here is about ten miles due east,” one of the deputies replied.
“Let’s inform state police and get some air support in place,” Nick began. “How soon before we confirm make and model?” he asked Burgess.
“Only a matter of minutes.”
“Okay.” Nick placed his hands on his hips and cast his gaze down, seemingly to work out a solution to this new break. “Can we keep this location quiet until we track down the vehicle?”
“Yes,” Burgess replied.
“Good. My team will stay here with me. I’ll send up the chopper once we get confirmation and you and your team can coordinate with state police and try to keep him from getting off that highway.”
“Got it.” Burgess began to direct his team back to their vehicles. “As soon as I hear…”
“Thank you,” Nick replied.
Once the others were out of earshot, Nick turned to Kate and Dwight. “Look, we have no idea how long he’s been on the road. We’ve been searching this place for almost two hours. There’s no telling when he found his way out of the river and hoofed it to the highway. It’s possible we might have already missed him.”
“But you don’t think we have,” Kate said.
“I’m trusting your instincts, Kate. This is not a rational man. He’s impulsive and beyond reckless.”
“That makes him unpredictable and even more dangerous. He’s never killed a man that we know of,” Dwight said.
“There’s no guarantees he killed this one, but I think it would be far too coincidental in a place where these things just don’t happen and then two deaths in one night within a twenty-mile radius?” Kate began. “It’s Durham and, yes, I believe he will come back here. He may even be counting on us already assuming as much.”
TWENTY
Headlights beaming in the rear view mirror made it almost impossible for Durham to ascertain whether or not the vehicle behind him was a police car. He assumed, however, that if it had been the police, he’d have seen flashing red and blue lights by now. Nevertheless, he accelerated and switched lanes in an effort to remove his car from the glow of those headlights because he’d also been listening to the car radio. Just about every station cut into regular programming several times to broadcast an alert that detailed the license plate, make, and model of the car he was now driving. While the car behind him wasn’t the police, it could have been someone who’d heard those same alerts and was perhaps on the phone right now to 911.
Desperation could make a man dangerous, but it made Zachariah Durham positively lethal. If he couldn’t get out of this alive, then he would be sure to take down anyone and everyone in his path. And especially the FBI agent—the one who had been so defiant. The one who left the bleeding wound on his shoulder. She’d taken away his power, his control, and he would make her pay for it.
Durham figured they would have found his other victims by now. They already knew his true identity and, from there, it would have only been a small leap to piece together his past. He realized,
too late, that it had been a mistake to go to the old woman’s house, but he didn’t know he’d been followed. His plan had been to stay there until the feds gave up searching the area and moved on, but she followed him.
The war that had erupting inside him, splintering what cohesive thoughts he still possessed, continued to rage. The part of him that sought to make him suffer the consequences of his actions had wrangled control from the beast and nearly offered him up to the authorities on a silver platter by way of moving the bodies to the river. And he began to wonder if it had been that part of him that drove him to the old woman’s house. He could no longer decipher who was running the show and the conclusion meant no one was safe.
The first thing he needed to do was to ditch the car. He’d been traveling for the better part of forty minutes, heading south toward Orlando. An exit was just ahead to a small town thirty miles north of Orlando called Lakeside. He could leave the car and find another vehicle, by force, if necessary. Waiting them out; that was what he had to do. But with his face all over the news, it would not be easy to hide in plain sight.
Durham turned right to exit the highway and came upon the stoplight. The red glow began to sting his eyes as he stared and the burning in his chest worsened. He closed his eyes for a moment and, when the light turned green, they opened again, only this time, a force previously unknown had taken hold. Something new had emerged from his shattered mind. And it was about to bring devastation to all those who encountered it.
As he pressed on the gas pedal, the tires spun and the car veered to the left, driving back onto the highway. The FBI agent could not be allowed to live and he knew exactly where she would be.
» » »
Every inch of the land where the Durham home once stood had been traversed. A small shed had been located by Burgess’ team on the far west end of the property, along with another concrete slab nearby. A few pieces of equipment remained inside the shed beneath dusty blankets. Perhaps this was where the father welded on occasion. However, nothing else of any significance was inside. Kate stood in front of that shed now with Nick. Dwight had been posted near the property’s entrance where the remains had been discovered.
“It’s been almost an hour,” Kate said. “I’m starting to think I might have been wrong. What if he’s out there killing again?” She looked at Nick with doubt in her eyes. “We can’t stay here any longer. We need to do something.”
Nick seemed to ponder her request. According to local law enforcement, there had been sightings of the vehicle they suspected Durham to be driving, but as of yet, they had not caught up with him.
She waited for him to speak, but her patience was wearing thin. “What does Agent Myers think? Have you spoken with her? Given what we know now, does she believe he will come back here?” Kate needed something other than her own suspicions to confirm they were on the right track.
He appeared irritated by the questions Kate was launching at him. “I haven’t had any updates from her.” Nick rubbed his face as though it might clear his mind. “I don’t know what the hell to do right now. Why the hell can’t these guys find him?”
“Nick.” Kate reached out to him. “We have to find Durham. We just can’t risk him taking another life.”
He peered into her in the eyes. “I thought he’d come here too. I really did.”
In the distance, a faint light appeared. Both turned in the direction from which it came. Nick raised his phone and called Dwight. “Do you see that? What is it?”
“It’s a car,” Dwight replied. “I—I can’t tell.” He paused for a moment. “Yes, it’s heading this way. Nick, this could be him.”
“Can you see if it’s his car?”
Another pause. “It’s him! It’s him!”
“Son of a bitch.” Nick beamed with certitude. “He’s here.” Returning his attention to the call, he continued, “We’re heading over to you now.” The call ended and Nick dropped his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s go. This is it.”
It took several minutes to make it to the front of the property and as they approached, something appeared out of order. No gun shots had been heard, no yelling of demands, only Dwight standing at the driver’s side door of what they believed had been Durham’s car, with no weapon drawn. It was the look on Dwight’s face as he turned toward them that forced Nick to conclude something had gone awry. “Slow up,” he said to Kate.
“Who’s inside that car?” She was the first to speak as they drew nearer to Dwight.
“She was abducted from the diner where she works.” Dwight handed Nick a note. “He took her clothes.” That explained why Dwight was no longer wearing his jacket. She’d had it draped over the front of her. “He told her to drive here and give this note to the FBI bitch.”
“Miss, are you okay?” Nick leaned into the car.
“She’s scared, but it doesn’t look like her hurt her,” Dwight replied.
Her frail voice arose. “He told me that he wouldn’t kill me if I came here to give you the note. I was at work and he said if I called the police or told anyone else, he’d come back for me.” Her tone was barely above a whisper as she spoke through quaking nerves. “He came in just as I was closing and grabbed me.” She wiped a tear away with her hand.
“What does the note say?” Kate’s expression fortified in an instant and her steely eyes demanded a reply.
Nick handed her the scrap paper that appeared to be from the diner.
Kate opened the note and began to read. “I’m coming for you next.” She looked at her colleagues and a scathing grin formed on her lips. “Guess he won’t be here tonight after all.”
“We’ll go back to the sheriff’s office,” Nick began. “We need to get her to a hospital first and have her checked out. Jameson, call Burgess and let him know we have the car. He can call off the air support, but keep the troopers posted at the roadblocks. I don’t know what this son of a bitch is planning on, but we’d better figure it out damn quick.”
» » »
The suspect’s car was being towed back to the sheriff’s office and the young woman who had been threatened remained at the hospital. The four federal agents stood inside Sheriff Conroy’s office while Burgess filled him in on what they had so far.
“So we still have no goddam clue where this guy is?” The sheriff paced his large and plush office.
“He’s issued a threat against Agent Reid,” Dwight began. “There’s a possibility we can use this to our advantage.”
“Jameson’s right.” Agent Myers pushed off the credenza that rested against the east wall. “From what we know of Zachariah Durham, and from what I’ve read in your archived files, this man needs to be in control. As a formerly abused child, this is fairly characteristic.”
“There were no incidents of any abuse in the Durham home, Agent Myers.” Sheriff Conroy wrinkled his brow as though insulted by the comment.
“I’m sorry, Sheriff, but did you read the files? Protective Services were called out on four different occasions based on concerns expressed by Durham’s school teachers at the time.”
“Yes, but they’d been determined to be unfounded once CPS interviewed the family.” The sheriff was on the defensive.
“This happened more than ten years ago. I’m not trying to point the finger here. I’m simply stating that there were problems inside the Durham home. And the fact that Zachariah Durham dismembers his victims the way he does—well, sir, I can tell you that I’ve been doing this long enough and have studied sociopaths enough to understand that this type of behavior does not simply appear one day for no apparent reason.” Myers cast a glance to Nick, seemingly to ensure she hadn’t crossed some boundary of authority. “Getting back to this situation, Agent Reid has become his next target because she denied him control over her as he had had with his previous victims.”
“He’s obviously become emboldened by this latest action—and erratic,” Nick said. “Agent Myers is right. We can use this opportunity to draw him in.”
Kate wasn’t about to object. She’d been a target before, albeit for different reasons, but a target nonetheless. And this would probably not be the last time either. So, if there was a way for her to draw Durham out again, then she wouldn’t hesitate. This difference this time was that she was a trained federal agent, not a fearful young woman. “Look, whatever you need me to do, I can handle it.”
Dwight raised a hand. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll have your back the entire time.”
“Agreed.” Nick added. “He knew we would be at his former home. He must also know that we found the other victims.” He paused for a moment. “Agent Myers, why do you think he chose to go to one of his foster parents’ homes?”
“I think he sees that his lifestyle has been compromised—that he believes he’s reached the end of the road and there is nowhere left for him to turn and so why not exact retribution on those who had perhaps treated him the way his own family had? I think we all know by now that the fire that killed his parents and sister was intentionally set by him.” Myers looked at Conroy again, who appeared as though she was still on the attack. “There were other incidents in his case file from the state that indicated his abuse carried on with other various foster parents, including Mrs. Gustafson, the woman he killed when Agent Reid attempted to thwart his efforts.”
“You think it’s possible then, that he might seek out any others who abused him?” Burgess, who had been quiet up to this point, seemed piqued by Myers’ theory.
“First of all, Durham won’t hunt down Agent Reid, even if his threat indicated as much. That would be tantamount to a death wish if he were to just waltz in here and attack her. And, while I don’t believe he’s of a particularly high intelligence, he can put two and two together.”