by C. M. Sutter
I felt my face flush red hot as I stood. I’d nip this unexpected visit in the bud before she had the time to consume my morning. Everyone stopped what they were doing, including the lieutenant, and watched to see how I’d handle her.
“Kate, what can I do for you?” I was sure my voice sounded agitated.
The anxiety I saw in her eyes softened me for a split second. She appeared to be deeply concerned about something.
“If you could give me a few minutes of your time, please?”
I sighed and let the breath out slowly. “Fine. Follow me, we’ll go in the conference room.”
I didn’t offer her coffee—I had no intention of letting her get too comfortable. With my cup in hand, I led the way down the hall.
“In here.” I opened the door and pointed at a chair. I sat at the opposite side of the table and looked her in the eyes. I drummed my fingertips impatiently as I watched her remove her coat, hang it on the chair back, and take a seat. “Kate, why does this dream have you all spun up?”
“There have actually been nightmares two nights in a row, and this is why they bother me so much.” She took a deep breath, untied the silk scarf double wrapped around her neck and knotted in the front, then let it drop to the table. Tears clouded her eyes as she looked into mine.
I couldn’t find my voice as I stared at her neck. In an instant, I felt sorry and stunned at the same time. The thick double scar that covered the width of her neck startled me beyond words. The scars were red, ragged, and from their appearance, the result of a vicious attack.
“Oh my God, Kate—when—why—how did this happen to you?”
I rose and closed the conference room door then opened the supply closet and pulled out a box of tissue. I set it on the table in front of her. Even though for the last several years I’d thought I disliked this woman, I never had a legitimate reason to. All I knew about her was that she worked as a psychic, and in my closed-minded opinion, that was reason enough to think she was nuts. We’d never had a real conversation. We’d never talked about our personal lives or even exchanged pleasantries. I wasn’t on the welcoming committee when she moved to North Bend. I didn’t know her story, and according to the scars, she had a horrific one to tell. I didn’t know a damn thing about her other than my own smart-mouthed skepticism regarding her occupation. Now, I felt like a total jerk.
Even though Kate looked to be my age, I felt like a mother comforting a child in that moment. Instinctively, I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. I felt the sting of tears fill my own eyes.
“Do you want to tell me what this is really about?”
She nodded.
“How about something to drink before we begin?”
She smiled weakly. “Tea sounds nice.”
“Okay, stay put. I’ll be right back.”
I got up, walked out, and closed the door behind me. As I turned from the hallway into the bull pen, the conversation stopped, and my colleagues stared at me.
Clayton grinned. “Got rid of her already? Damn, that’s a record, even for you. I bet you weren’t in there more than five minutes.”
I cleared my throat and dabbed at my eyes. I put a cup of water in the microwave then turned toward them.
“Yeah—guess I’m the jerk of the year. This woman has a real story to tell me, and I’ve never given her the time of day.”
Jack stopped what he was doing and spoke up. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”
The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the cup of hot water. I grabbed the basket of tea samplers and sugar packets, then placed them on a tray along with a cup of coffee for me.
“This might take a while. I’ll let you guys know what’s going on once I hear her story.” I gave them a solemn look and turned toward the hallway. “From what I’ve seen so far, it isn’t going to be anything good.”
Chapter 6
“And that happened ten years ago?”
I shook my head in disbelief as Kate told me her harrowing story. Now I understood why she’d moved away from the South. Anywhere in the Atlanta area was too close to Robert Lynch’s family and friends. They’d come looking for her. According to Kate, Robert’s last words to her before he was sentenced were that she’d pay in the end. Now, he was due to be released from USP Atlanta in a few days. She went on to say his upcoming release might have triggered the nightmares, but she had a deep feeling that they were real premonitions.
I explained to Kate how I’d done a countywide search in the missing-persons database over the last forty-eight hours and found that nobody had been reported missing.
“What if the woman wasn’t local? She could have been from a neighboring county.”
“That’s true, but then our hands would be tied in Washburn County. It wouldn’t be our jurisdiction, and we couldn’t do anything at the county level. If a crime crosses county borders, the state police would become involved, then, of course, across state borders would be the FBI’s case.”
“The thing is, I thought I was reliving my own nightmares until I looked at the descriptions I had jotted down. The killer doesn’t look like Robert, and neither of the women in the dreams looked like me.”
I wrote down the information about Robert Lynch. I wanted to check this man out for myself. “Have you seen him at all since he went to prison?”
“No. I imagine his appearance has changed in the last ten years, but I’m sure the man in my dreams wasn’t him. That man was hairy and bigger than how I remember Robert.”
“I could get my hands on a recent picture of him if you want to be certain. People sometimes change dramatically in prison. Guys work out a lot and can get pretty big.”
“That could help, but the thought of seeing him again, even in a photo, unnerves me.”
“Tell me more about the dreams and the descriptions of the women.”
“Okay. Like I wrote in the email, the first woman was blond and young, maybe early twenties. The second woman was petite with red hair. She looked to be in her forties. She wore a locket on a delicate gold chain. DAN was engraved across it, possibly a boyfriend or husband’s name. I remember how terrified she was. She hid from him throughout the dream. He’d find her, and she’d run again. I remember hearing trains.”
“Trains?” I wrote that down.
“Yes, then the chase continued, but I’m not sure how it turned out. I woke up before the dream ended.”
“You mean before she was killed?”
“Yes. Then I went into another dream that took place in a town setting. Several garbage cans stood against the walls of a dark, narrow area around older brick buildings.”
“Could it have been an industrial area or a warehouse, maybe? Was there anything familiar about the buildings? Did you recognize the street or any houses in the neighborhood? Was there anything about the town that stood out?”
Kate buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know, it was vague—hazy in a way. There was a blue Dumpster with graffiti on the side. I remember that. The first dream was much more vivid.”
“Okay, let’s focus on that one, then.” I pushed back my chair and excused myself. “I’ll fill our cups. There’s a ladies’ room at the end of the hall if you need it.”
She nodded a thank-you, and I walked out with her teacup and my mug in hand. When I returned with the hot beverages, I took a seat on her side of the table. Kate unzipped the black soft-side briefcase she had lying on the chair next to her and pulled out a yellow legal pad. She showed me what she had written down even though she had previously emailed me the details. She said she added more memories of the first dream than what she had originally sent.
“The woman’s hair was in a ponytail. It was long enough that she could pull it around her face. I remember seeing her twist it nervously.” Kate took a sip of tea and swallowed, then paused as if she were deep in thought.
I waited silently for a minute so I wouldn’t interrupt her thoughts.
“Okay, what else?”
�
�She wore a turquoise-and-silver ring on her right index finger, and she had brightly painted acrylic nails—coral colored, I think. She wore a pink fleece jacket that had an emblem on the chest.”
“Really?” I wrote that down. “Did you get a close look at the emblem?”
“Yes, it was similar to a crest—like a gold crown in silk embroidery thread.”
“And your email said her car was light colored and you thought it was a two-door with a hatchback?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I couldn’t see the plates, though.”
“Okay, and the second woman was an older redhead?”
“Not old, but older than the first woman, and yes, a redhead. He chased her everywhere, but then, like I said, I woke up. I’m not even sure if the buildings and Dumpster were a continuation of that dream or not.”
“Do you think you can give a good enough description to a forensic artist to get pictures drawn of them? I could send them out to law enforcement across the country. We do that kind of thing all the time. Oh yeah, ex—” I paused.
“You were going to say except?”
I took in a long breath. “Yeah, except we usually have an actual missing person first. Maybe we should wait on sending the sketches out. I’d still like to have drawings rendered as long as the images are fresh in your mind.” I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself since I had no idea what to do with this information. I had never worked with a psychic in my life. “Kate, how has this worked in the past cases you’ve helped with? I mean, did law enforcement call you in as a consultant, or did you have dreams and visions and contact them?”
“Both. I’ll admit there have been times where my visions haven’t helped. I could have seen something real in my dreams, but the crimes weren’t local to Nashville or Chicago. I’m thinking you’re leaning toward that theory?”
“Our local database didn’t show anyone missing, and nobody has called in on the hotline.”
Kate’s furrowed brows showed defeat and anxiety as she studied her notes. “The dreams were even more real than usual.”
“But you admitted that Mr. Lynch’s upcoming release may have triggered those dreams.”
“I know—it’s possible.”
“Think hard, Kate. Is there anything about either woman that seems at all familiar to you? Somebody from your past, maybe? Could they be a distant relative, coworker, somebody from the bank or grocery store?”
Kate pressed her temples and thought hard. “No, neither of them seem familiar. I don’t recognize either of them. Sergeant Monroe, I’d like you to go over my case history. I swear I’m not a nut. I want you to read the newspaper articles where I’ve helped find missing people and locate murder victims.” She pulled a red folder out of the briefcase and handed it to me. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s my validation. I want to assure you I’m not here to waste your time. Read it, take it home, and go over it. There’s somebody out there slashing women’s throats, or he’s preparing to begin soon.”
“How do you know, Kate?”
“Sergeant?”
“How do you know if he’s going to commit a crime or already has?”
“That’s the sad part. Short of being the criminal myself, I don’t have a name to give you, only a description. We usually find the victim after it’s too late to warn them.” Kate put the scarf around her neck and stood. She slipped her coat on and buttoned it. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Call me after you’ve gone over my files. Feel free to contact the police departments in Chicago and Nashville and discuss me with them. I know you think I’ve led you on a wild goose chase in the past. Not every prediction of mine leads to an arrest or a found body, but these dreams are different.”
I stood too and pushed in my chair. “I understand. Give me several days to read this information, make a few calls, and think this over. Kate?”
“Yes, Sergeant Monroe?”
“Did you ever find out why Robert Lynch tried to kill you?”
“He never said, but do psychopaths need a reason? I guess I was in the wrong place at the right time—for him.”
She turned to the window and twisted the wand on the blinds. I watched her as she gazed out at the sky beyond the glass.
“Looks like we might get snow. You have my number, Sergeant Monroe. I hope to hear from you soon.”
Kate reached for her briefcase and walked out. I picked up the red folder she left behind on the conference table then glanced down the hallway—she was already gone.
Back in the bull pen, I dropped the folder on my desk and exhaled a loud, confused sigh when I sat. All eyes were on me.
“Well, what did Miss Nutjob have to say?” Jack chuckled.
“There’s a chance she isn’t a nutjob after all. I found out she’s lived through a pretty horrific experience.”
Clayton perked up. “Okay, now you have our attention. What gives with her?”
“Those nightmares, or premonitions, as she calls them, are about women having their throats slashed. Turns out, ten years ago she was attacked by a stranger who slit her throat. She showed me the scars—two jagged rows across her neck, ear to ear.”
“No shit?”
I turned in my chair and looked behind me. Clark stood there, leaning against the open door of his office.
“Yes, boss, no shit.”
Chapter 7
We were in luck and had a quiet month so far. No violent crimes that I was aware of had been committed in the last few weeks. We had been spending time closing out old cases and, of course, preparing for and testifying at the Mandy Blakely trial. This lull in action gave me the opportunity I needed to hunker down at my desk and dig in to finding out who Robert Lynch really was and why he tried to kill Kate Pierce. I pulled up his police records and was surprised to see the amount of criminal activity he had been involved in. Robert Lynch was a career criminal that started his illegal habits as an enterprising teenager that sold drugs to school kids. As time went on and he became more brazen, his crimes escalated into numerous burglaries, aggravated assaults, two rape charges that didn’t stick, and finally, Kate’s attempted murder. Up until the attempted murder charge, he had racked up six years behind bars for a handful of different crimes.
According to his statement logged in the police records, Kate Pierce was wrong, and it was a case of mistaken identity. He swore he wasn’t her assailant and said he had a steadfast alibi. He admitted guilt only after fifteen long hours of interrogation. He stated that the cops railroaded him into a false confession.
Robert Lynch was known on the streets of Atlanta, along with his brother, Tony, and the thugs they associated with. Robert had a bad reputation, and according to his statement, the cops wanted him locked up no matter what.
I read through everything that was available online short of having his complete police jacket in front of me. His brother was his alibi the night of the attack, but with the type of people Robert ran with, that alibi didn’t hold a lot of weight.
Several days after Kate’s attack, Robert had been picked up on an unrelated charge. The description Kate gave a sketch artist of her attacker looked too much like Robert to go unnoticed. The police picked him up and held him in custody on robbery charges while they built a case against him for attempted murder. Weeks later, after Kate was released from the hospital, she picked him out of a police lineup with no hesitation, and he was charged with her attempted murder.
“Wow, that’s quite a story,” I said after reading the contents of the folder Kate had given me earlier, and everything I could find online about the man.
“Bad news?” Billings asked.
“Oh yeah. He’s a career criminal from the sound of it, and Kate happened to be the unlucky person in his path that night. He was sentenced to fifteen years, but he’s being released at ten in a few days for good behavior and because of prison overcrowding. No wonder Kate is having nightmares. At least she lives far away from Atlanta now.” I
put my computer to sleep temporarily and got up from my desk. I stretched, cracked my neck, and headed out.
Jack perked up when I walked toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“To the lunchroom. I need my chocolate bar fix. Do you want something?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a bag of chips.”
I jerked my head toward the door. “Sure, come on. You can get your own.” I looked back as Jack’s smile soured, but he got up and joined me, anyway.
We stood at the vending machine, mulling over our choices. Jack fed a five-dollar bill through the slot and hit the button for corn chips. They fell to the bottom of the machine.
I pulled his change out of the coin return and fed it back into the machine. He jerked his head at me and laughed. “Wow…you really suckered me into that one.”
“Sure did, partner.” I pointed at my choice. “Go ahead and press A-7. Dark chocolate, peanuts, and caramel—three of my favorite foods.” I handed him the two dollar bills that slid out of the paper money slot.
I unwrapped the chocolate bar of decadence and bit into it while we walked the hallway back to the bull pen.
Jack tore open his bag of chips and grabbed a handful. “So what’s next?”
We returned to our desks, and I tossed my candy bar wrapper into the nearby garbage can. I regretted not having Jack buy me two.
“As long as I have the time, I think I’ll dig into Kate’s psychic world a bit. I’m going to call the Chicago and Nashville police departments and get their take on her. As traumatic as her past is, I’m not completely sold on the premonition thing. Until I hear their stories of her uncanny, accurate predictions, I’m not believing everything written in the newspaper. If they give her an A-plus rating, I’ll do a statewide missing-persons search for both women. Her description of the first woman is detailed, even down to what she was wearing.”
“And the second?”
“I have height, hair color, and approximate age, but that’s all. I’m thinking of having Marie work with Kate to see if she can put together facial sketches from her dream memories. It can’t hurt. Somebody might actually know these women. They might be missing from another state. Meanwhile, the names of the detectives she worked side by side with in Nashville and Chicago are in the folder she gave me.”