[Killing Game 01.0] Invitation to Die

by Jaden Skye

  *

  The note was a gold mine. The killer was crafty, pretending to be an innocent child while embedding warnings of danger in it. He was trying to drive his victims crazy, and also the rest of the world. Criminals of this kind thrived on confusion, double messages, and deceit. What they feared most was straight talk and plain truth.

  Tracy asked that news of finding the note be made public immediately. The killer had to be feeling that he was gaining the upper hand. She wanted to make him skittish, scare him into that one wrong move. She also wanted to alert any others out there who might have received a note of this kind. Tracy made a public plea to parents to speak to their children and see if anyone told them to pass a note like this to their teachers or anyone else. Obviously, the killer hung around nursery schools and other places with children. Tracy also asked everyone to watch for him at playgrounds.

  “Keep your eyes open for anyone at your playground or child’s school that doesn’t belong there!” she dictated to the press. “Or someone who might be working there who is behaving oddly. We need your help. We need your vigilance.”

  Her announcement created a stir. When she returned to the offices Hunter, Clay, and August were waiting for her.

  “We heard what you found at the nursery school.” August seemed nervous. “You’ve ratcheted up the fear in town. Now you’re going to have everyone suspecting each other. Yeah, the jerk might hang around playgrounds, but he also hangs around prostitutes, so I wouldn’t scare parents about him. We’re getting calls about it, off the hook.”

  “Everyone has to be alerted,” Tracy insisted. “Playgrounds have to be guarded carefully.”

  “Hold on, the perv grabbed the third victim while she was jogging on a perfectly normal street. So where’s the link between that and a pedophile hanging around kids?” August was pissed. Tracy’s suggestions obviously bugged him. Everything about her did.

  “There are all kinds of psychological implications for a note of this kind.” Tracy brushed off August’s objections. “If the note is from the killer, and it looks like it is, then he’s reliving traumas he experienced in childhood. He becomes regressed, identifies as a child in his mind, and goes after the teacher. He could have been punished or beaten by teachers and is returning the favor now. Or, maybe, by getting rid of the teacher, he’s protecting other children from being hurt the way he was.”

  “Could be doesn’t amount to a thing.” August wiped his brow feverishly. “Don’t go scaring parents.”

  “The killer infiltrates places of innocence and safety,” Tracy continued. “In one way he feels like a child, but in another he knows what he’s doing all the time. In the midst of his childlike patter there’s a clear warning in the note he sent. That’s important. He gives his victims notice. Are they smart enough to realize it and get away? Not so far. Why did Shannon even save this note? It must have come from someone who was important to her.”

  “One of the children in her class most likely,” Clay commented.

  “Most likely,” Tracy agreed, “and that is frightening. This killer has access to these children, they know and trust him. He’s someone they run into on a regular basis.”

  “Someone at the school?” Clay was fired up now. “A teacher there?”

  “Doubtful, doubtful.” Hunter stood up, tapping his knuckles on the edge of the desk. “We talked to everyone who had anything to do with the school. Everyone came up clean. And these killings were definitely not done by a woman.”

  Tracy paused a moment at the thought of it. “But perhaps a woman was implicated somehow?”

  “Women do not sexually mutilate and slash victims the way Tina was killed.” Hunter was emphatic.

  “True,” Tracy agreed. “But perhaps the woman helped the killer? Was she the one to gain the victim’s trust?”

  “This is definitely not the road to take,” the thought agitated Hunter.

  “Maybe not,” Tracy murmured. “Then let’s focus on another important aspect of this note. It tells us that the killer sent warnings. Not only did he leave a message for the police, he left them for his victims. What were the other warnings he sent? We have to go through each victims’ possessions with that in mind. Is there something they had around them that let them know what was in store?”

  “Farfetched,” grumbled August. “What are we going to do, comb through every single thing that belongs to them?”

  “That’s how I found Shannon’s note,” Tracy reminded him. “I’ll go myself to Candace’s boutique,” she offered.

  “Not right now,” said Hunter. “It would be a much better use of your time to answer the phone lines for a while since this news has been made public. Look over all the tips that are coming in. I’ll send someone else over to Candace’s boutique.”

  “I’ll go back to the boutique again,” August offered reluctantly.

  “Great,” said Tracy, planning to go herself later on anyway. “Look through everything Candace was selling, and pay careful attention to any paperwork. Check the bills, receipts, look for any notes she received.”

  “She probably threw plenty of notes out,” said August.

  “You never know,” Clay chimed in. “If the killer knew Candace, if he’d gained her trust, there’s every reason to believe she might have held onto something from him that was of value to her. And we have to do the same thing with Tina.”

  Tracy suddenly thought of the little wooden crucifix she’d found in the alley where Tina had been dumped. Could it have been a warning from the killer, a message of some kind? Who did the crucifix really belong to, though? Forensics hadn’t found any fingerprints or DNA on it, so there was no way to be sure.

  “It never ends,” August mumbled, sighing. He got up and stretched. “All these theories are great, but nothing’s coming together.” Then he turned and walked to the door. “Dead or alive, the killer’s got Candace and I’m going to check receipts at a boutique? Does that make sense?” he said as he left.

  Chapter 25

  The room manning the tip line was crowded and warm. People sat at cubicles taking calls as the sun poured in through the closed windows. Tracy was led to a cubicle that was larger than most and given a stack of papers outlining calls and suggestions that were of particular interest. Most of them had been checked through already.

  The head of the tip lines, Sandra Bell, a big woman in her early forties, thanked Tracy profusely before leaving her there alone.

  “We really appreciate your coming in to help us,” Sandra said, looking kindly at Tracy. “If you need anything at all, call me immediately. I’m a few cubicles down.”

  Tracy liked Sandra very much. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Can’t wait to get going.”

  “Oh, by the way.” Sandra suddenly seemed to recollect something. “There was some caller asking to talk to you. He called twice already.”

  “Really?” Tracy was surprised.

  “Yeah, he said something about the note with the baby talk. It bothered him. He wouldn’t leave his number though. But he did leave his name, Tad Warehouse.”

  “If he calls again, put him through,” said Tracy.

  Sandra smiled and shrugged. “I doubt he’ll call again,” she said, “but if he does, I’ll make sure he’s put through. Thanks again.” Then she left.

  Tracy quickly went over the pages Sandra had given her. Some sightings of Candace had been called in and also a few of Shannon. Didn’t these people realize Shannon had been found dead? Probably not. Cases like this stirred up all kinds of people. Some also had called in with the names of some guys they thought could have been Tina’s customers. You really had to know how to sort things through.

  The tip line rang then and Tracy picked up quickly.

  “I heard the news.” The caller was a woman who sounded breathless. “There’s a man I see all the time when I pick up my son from nursery school. He talks to the kids all the time.”

  “May I have your name and number?” Tracy asked first, before taking f
urther information. The woman gave Tracy her name and number. Tracy continued, “Where does your son go to nursery school?”

  “I’m calling from Philadelphia,” said the woman. “The guy has an ice cream truck that he parks outside the school and sells ice cream and soda.”

  “Thanks so much for calling,” said Tracy, “but we’re focused in Boston.”

  “I know, but the guy here could be dangerous, too.” the caller was frightened.

  Tracy tried to calm her. “If you’re concerned get in touch with the police in your area.”

  “I will, I will,” the caller replied as the tip line rang again.

  Many calls from frightened parents came in, as well as someone whose words were slurred. That person told them he knew the killer was going to grab another whore off the streets any day now. They all got it sooner or later anyway. Didn’t they?

  Most of the calls seemed like a waste of time. A button with a little red light flashed on the intercom then and Tracy pressed it.

  It was Sandra. “Hey, Tracy, believe it or not, we’ve got that caller, Tad Warehouse, back on the line now. He’s asking to speak to you again.”

  “Put him through,” said Tracy quickly, glad to be finished with the other calls right now. She picked up the phone immediately.

  “Tracy Wrenn?” a male voice came in softly.

  “Yes, it’s me,” said Tracy.

  “Well, this is our lucky day,” said the caller. “This is Tad Warehouse.” Then he waited, as if expecting Tracy to know who he was.

  “Yes?” asked Tracy.

  “I’ve been calling and calling, waiting to speak to you,” Tad continued.

  There was a natural intelligence about the caller’s voice that interested Tracy. “Thank you,” she said, “how can I be of help?”

  “Be of help?” Tad spoke slowly. “That’s good to hear. Finally, someone wants to be of help. I had a feeling the minute I saw you in the papers that you were different from the rest.”

  Tracy’s ears perked up. Who was this?

  “Actually, I’ve been calling and calling and no one’s really given me the time of day. They’re not listening, Tracy.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Tad,” said Tracy. She wanted to establish some kind of rapport with this caller so he would go on..

  Pleased, Tad continued. “Listen to me and listen good. They’re letting the killer slip right through their fingers right in front of our eyes.”

  “Tell me more,” Tracy was mobilized.

  “I’m a smart guy, I’ve been following the case.” Tad was emboldened. “There’s no reason this should be going on for as long as it has. Two women are dead already.”

  “And the third?” asked Tracy, wondering if he knew something.

  “We don’t know yet, do we?” said Tad. “But it’s entirely possible that whether she lives or dies could depend on our conversation.”

  Tracy sat on the edge of her chair and began to record the conversation. This was fascinating. Could it be what they were waiting for.

  “Tell me more, Tad. Who are you, what do you know?”

  “I know a lot,” Tad answered. “I’ve lived in this town a long time and when something terrible like this happens, I know how to be of help. And I want to.”

  “That’s commendable of you,” said Tracy.

  “Commendable?” Tad took a deep breath.

  “You know, you’re a fantastic woman, Tracy,” he breathed. “And I knew you would be. You know who to value and who’s a waste of time. Most leads you’re getting are a complete waste of time. Do you realize that?”

  “Yes, I do,” Tracy responded quickly. “You’re absolutely right there. Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Tad seemed amazed. “You are the first person who has actually thanked me for jumping in and trying to help.”

  “Well, I appreciate you, Tad, I really do,” said Tracy. “There’s nothing more important than a concerned citizen. The public are law enforcement’s eyes and ears. We must listen. Please tell me what it is you know.”

  “It’s too much to do over the phone.” Tad’s voice dropped to a hush. “I have to meet you in person to tell you.”

  Tracy shivered. Was he closing in? Was she the next intended victim? It wouldn’t be the first time that happened in an investigation. Somehow Tracy wasn’t frightened by the possibility. She actually felt excited by the chance to meet him face to face.

  “That’s not how we usually do things, Tad,” she said in a quiet tone.

  “But look,” Tad went on, excited, “the way you usually do things doesn’t mean a damn. It isn’t working, is it? The killer’s still on the loose. You don’t have one solid lead so far either.”

  “Do you want to come to the FBI offices?” Tracy asked quickly then, probing to see what he really had in mind

  “No,” Tad answered fitfully. “I’d rather meet you outside at an outdoor café. How about the Bara, three blocks from where you work?”

  Tad had done his homework, knew where she was stationed and what was going on in the area, thought Tracy. This was not a casual caller either; the case was obviously important to him. Tracy thought for a moment. She would get the coverage she needed and meet him outside in a public place. If he tried to grab her, she’d have her backup right there. And, if he was just another nut and it was a waste of time, she’d chalk it up to the ins and outs of investigating.

  “I can see you for half an hour at three o’clock today,” Tracy offered.

  “I’ll be there,” said Tad, delighted. “I’ll be standing outside wearing khakis. I’m great looking with sandy hair. See ya.”

  Chapter 26

  Tracy was alerted. Anything was possible here. The urgency of Tad’s call and his focus on Tracy were red flags. Tracy put in a call to Hunter from the tip lines, to let him know her plans.

  “We’ve got a strange caller who’s called a few times,” Tracy said when Hunter picked up. “His name is Tad Warehouse. He wants to talk to me in person, and this one’s worth pursuing.”

  Tracy felt Hunter lurch to attention. “Why?” he asked.

  “He’s overly focused on me, the cops, and the case. He’s dwelling on it,” said Tracy. “Either he has something for us, or is involved himself.”

  Hunter took a deep breath. “He’s helping us find him?” he murmured sarcastically.

  “Hey, it could be break of some kind,” said Tracy. “Get me some plainclothesmen backup at the café. I’ll go see who he is and then signal them if I need them.”

  “I don’t like it,” Hunter protested. “He could grab you the minute he sees you.”

  “In a public place? I doubt it. I get that he wants to talk, to be listened to. I’ll listen while the cops are a step away. I told him I’d meet him for just half an hour outdoors at Café Bara. “

  “Okay,” Hunter relented, “I’ll have a couple of guys posted there ASAP.”

  Tracy was pleased. “Anything new on your end?” she asked.

  “Maybe?” Hunter responded. “It’s something simple and I don’t really know how it fits. August found a few cartons of pink pearls missing and unaccounted for from Candace’s boutique. Some delivery guy picked them up but they had no record of where he delivered them to. We’re tracking him down to find out.”

  “Pink pearls?” Tracy mulled it over. “Somebody stealing from her?”

  “Possibly,” answered Hunter. “We’ve confronted Wayne about it and he said he had no idea about the pearls, but things did go missing in the shop from time to time.”

  “One of the people working in the shop, maybe?” asked Tracy.

  “Could be, but so what?” Hunter replied. “Kevin is all over it though. He’s going crazy and now blames the pearls on Wayne.”

  “It’s an old story. He has to blame someone to keep himself sane,” said Tracy.

  “I guess so,” said Hunter. “And one more thing, someone who works at the shop said that Candace was glad Wayne was out of town that night. She was lo
oking forward to spending time with Andy. Kevin just heard about it and now he’s pressing us to speak to Pastor Boyd again. He’s convinced the pastor knows something we don’t.”

  “So, let’s talk to him,” said Tracy.

  “August plans to,” said Hunter, “but I don’t feel good about it. Boyd’s under so much pressure as it is. The whole town’s freaking out and lots of people are going to talk to him.” “You never know,” said Tracy. “Could these killings be related to money? Was anything else stolen from Shannon’s place or Tina’s? Was there ever a request for ransom?”

  “Not that we know of,” said Hunter, “and we checked for it thoroughly.”

  There were too many dead ends, and Hunter was beginning to sound complacent about it. Tracy was getting edgy.

  “Okay, so we have a lot of dead ends,” she said. “It’s good that I’m going to talk to this Tad Warehouse guy and see what he has to add.”

  “Just sounds like some creep wanting to sound off,” said Hunter.

  “Could be,” said Tracy, “I’ll find out. Anything else before I go?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Hunter seemed to just remember. “You got a call here from Wess.”

  “At the office?” Tracy was taken aback. Why would he do that? Usually he called her directly on her phone.

  “He left word that he’s on his way to Boston to see you.” Hunter sounded more annoyed than interested.

  “See me about what?” asked Tracy.

  “That’s for you to find out,” Hunter replied. “I told you how I feel about it. Wess said he’s showing up at our offices at around four thirty today.”

  Tracy was horrified. “Okay, thanks for letting me know,” she answered.

  “After you get through with your meeting with that caller, come over and be here when Wess arrives,” Hunter grumbled. “I have absolutely no desire to meet this guy. This is definitely a distraction we could live without.”

  Tracy didn’t like any of this either. After hanging up with Hunter, she immediately put a call in to Wess. Again, he didn’t pick up and she left a hurried message asking what this was all about.