Next Girl On The List - A serial killer thriller (McRyan Mystery Series Book)

by Roger Stelljes

  “If it’s six weeks, shouldn’t we just look at the last two months of financials?” Dara asked.

  “Maybe,” Mac replied. “But I’m betting he had his eyes on Lisa White long before two months ago.”

  “Scouting her?”

  “And others,” Mac answered. “He purchased the burner phone a year ago. So at least a year ago he was in the planning stages. Then he had to find four women that fit his criteria that he could woo. I mean, think about that for a second.”

  “Wooing four women?”

  “Yeah. You ever woo multiple men at one time?”

  “I’ve been wooed by multiple men at once,” she replied with a bright smile.

  “You’re just so impressed with yourself, aren’t you?” Mac mocked. “But seriously?”

  “Yes, I’ve dated multiple men at the same or similar time,” Wire answered. “It’s actually kind of a pain. I like it better when there is only one in the picture.”

  “Anyone in the picture now?”

  “No,” she answered quickly and with a hint of annoyance.

  “None of my business anyway,” Mac replied. “But think about our guy—he’s wooing four, if not more, women at the same time.”

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  “Dating or a date takes what, a few hours at a time? If they go well, maybe there is a second date. If not, you move on. But our guy, he can’t just move on very often. He needs four women that fit his profile and he needs them to fit into a pretty specific window of time that works for him. That’s a pretty tight needle to thread. That takes work, balancing, discipline and a … method.” Mac took a good long look at the board.

  “What are you thinking?” Dara asked.

  “I’m thinking … rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “Yeah, rules. What are his dating rules? You have dating rules, right?”

  “You mean, like no kiss on the first date?” Wire responded. “Although that’s such a lame rule.”

  “I agree,” Mac answered. “But I had rules or guidelines or deal breakers, whatever you call them. You had them. I had them. Most everyone has them. So he must have them too.”

  “Rules he would follow so …” She thought about it. “That he doesn’t raise suspicion or—”

  “Get caught,” Mac replied. “Or make his prey suspicious.”

  “She has to fit the criteria, right?” Dara suggested. “All of the criteria you have up on the board.”

  “Yes, but what are the other rules?” Mac asked.

  “Well, nobody has ever given us a good description of Rubens.”

  “Because nobody has ever seen him because… if they do…”

  “He abandons them,” Wire surmised, her eyebrows raised in interest. “Nobody else sees him and meets. That’s the rule. So if he gets introduced to friends or family, he what? Just walks away.”

  “He has to. Because if he then kills the woman, especially when she’s killed the way Rubens killed her, the first suspect would, of course, be the boyfriend.”

  “So that’s a rule. What do we do with it?”

  “Hmpf.” Mac scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure. It seems like there might be something there to use. I have to think about that.” He made some notes on the whiteboard. “What other rules?”

  “If they’re dating, they have to go places.”

  “Not necessarily,” Mac replied. “They could just meet at her place.”

  “No,” Wire replied, shaking her head. “No, no, no, silly boy. If I’m dating a guy, he’s taking me out. Dinner, drinks, movies, we’re going out.”

  “Okay,” Mac answered. “So bars and restaurants?”

  “Perhaps,” Wire replied. “But our victims aren’t the barhopping type. They’re the books, art, museum and gardening types.”

  “You’re probably right, although I’ve never met a woman who didn’t like a good meal and a glass of wine at a nice restaurant,” Mac answered. “It’s in a woman’s DNA. It’s certainly in Sally’s and we’ve established it’s in yours as well. But if he did take a woman to a restaurant it’s most likely going to be a smaller, quieter place.”

  Wire started flipping through the financials for White. “I don’t see a lot of restaurant activity. I see takeout, but not restaurants.”

  “He’s paying,” Mac replied and frowned. “If you’re right and there are dates, he’s paying and it’s in his interest to pay. If she pays, that leaves a financial record. No. He’s paying and he’s probably paying with cash.”

  “Because,” Wire continued, “you can’t trace cash.”

  “So no friends and family, that’s a deal breaker. There are probably dates that he’s paying cash on, so that there’s no financial record. What else?”

  “Do they ever go to his place?” Wire asked.

  “Good question,” Mac replied in thought, scratching the side of his face. “I kind of doubt it. That would be risky and I don’t think he’d take that kind of risk. Lisa White’s picture is plastered all over the news now. So if anyone ever remembered seeing her at his place, the jig would be up. But it does beg a different question.”

  “Which is?”

  “He’s been here a year, right?”

  “Or so we think.”

  “Where did he come from?” Mac reached for the phone.

  A minute later Galloway came in. “What’s up?”

  “When Rubens was operating in Chicago and later Los Angeles, did the Bureau ever run a search cross-referencing people establishing residences in all three cities, Boston, Chicago and LA in the relevant time periods?”

  “Like someone moving from Boston to Chicago and then LA?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I believe so and it came up empty.”

  “We need to do it again or restart whatever was done before. This guy is using a fake identity—in fact, probably multiple fake identities. He has to be.”

  “Especially after Boston,” Dara added.

  “Right,” Mac replied, snapping his fingers. “So have our guys throw Boston out and instead run it Chicago to LA to DC. See if anything pops. Heck, let’s run down anyone who pops in two of the three. Cast a wide net.”

  “That’s apt to be a lot of people if you broaden it to that degree,” Galloway warned.

  “It creates a possible pool if we ever do get a name,” Mac replied. “Plus, all the names you find you can run against criminal records, employment histories, financial transactions, vehicle history. Our guy moves to these cities and he sets up shop for a long time. He must have a home, an apartment or a townhouse that he’s renting with a lease expiring probably at the end of April. Is there any way to search leases expiring at the end of April?”

  “Not sure the degree to which there would be a database of something like that,” Galloway answered. “I can look into it but we’d more likely have to start calling every apartment complex in the area, assuming he’s renting an apartment. He could be renting a house. It could be impossible.”

  “Give it some thought,” Mac answered. “He’s living somewhere and there has to be a record of it. Rubens probably is driving, so he has a driver’s license. Maybe it’s a fake or maybe there’s a DMV record under the fake identity, who knows. We need to run it against any leasing records, against anyone who’s moved here from Chicago or Los Angeles in the last seven years.”

  “Okay,” Galloway sighed. “It’s all a long shot.”

  “Right now, yes, it is,” Mac replied. “But as we get more information we’re set up to run it and maybe something pops. By the way, I caught your little press briefing earlier. Great job with the media. Thanks for keeping them off our backs.”

  “No problem, although Mac, they’re asking for you. They know you and Dara are on the case. They know he called you.”

  Mac sighed but then after a second nodded. “Well, that could prove useful when the time comes.”

  Galloway, the master of administration and media, went off to take care of his latest ma
ssive task.

  It was approaching 8:00 P.M.

  “You know what I need?” Mac groaned, stretching his arms over his head.

  “A burger and a beer,” Dara answered hopefully.

  “See, this is why we’re partners.”

  • • •

  They wanted to get out and stretch their legs, so they snuck out the side of the building and walked.

  It was a pleasant evening. Spring was rolling in. The night was warmer and they could feel a hint of humidity as they walked the four blocks to The Fillmore.

  Historians did not regard the thirteenth President of the United States, Millard Fillmore, as a particularly successful one, so the name was a perfect fit for a dive bar. But it was a good dive bar with burgers, sandwiches and a long selection of tap beers, including many local microbrews. They grabbed a back booth and quickly ordered.

  Mac took a long drag of his Port City Wit, one of his new favorite local beers, closed his eyes and exhaled at the brief moment away from the case. “That feels good.”

  “Agreed,” Wire replied as she took a second small pull from her glass.

  They chatted about anything but the case.

  “So is Sally freaking out about this case ruining the wedding?”

  “Naturally. I told her if Rubens held to form, this would be all over, one way or the other, long before the wedding.”

  Wire nodded. “Have you seen her dress?”

  “No,” Mac answered, shaking his head. “Why would I want to ruin the surprise?”

  His partner smiled. “Oh my, she is going to be beautiful.”

  “That will not be a surprise. I don’t know how she couldn’t look amazing.”

  “You’re so whipped—it’s really kind of pathetic.”

  With their burger baskets finished, Mac and Wire weren’t ready to head back just yet. They ordered coffee, expecting to work for several more hours. Instead, the waitress came back with two more beers. “From the gentleman sitting at the bar.”

  Mac and Wire both looked over to the bar and immediately recognized their benefactor sitting on a bar stool, smiling.

  Hugo Ridge.

  “Figures he’d show up sooner or later,” Mac muttered.

  The author was certainly dressed to fit the image. Tall and slender with three-day-old stubble and his hair stylishly askew, Ridge was attired in tight-fitting blue jeans to go with a brown tweed coat and black button down collar dress shirt. He approached the table with a beer of his own. “Could I join you for a few minutes?” he asked politely.

  “Sure,” Wire answered immediately, sliding over so he could sit next to her.

  “What, no television appearances tonight?” Mac asked sardonically while nevertheless taking a long drink from his new and free beer.

  “Already did my duty,” Ridge replied. “This is hell for you two, but I’m not afraid to say that for me it’s a pretty good deal.”

  “That’s kind of callous, don’t you think?” Mac asked.

  “Nah, it’s America. We’re all trying to make a buck. Publicity is good for book sales, both future and past,” Ridge answered, unoffended, and then added a zinger of his own. “It’s not like your book sales will be hurt by recent events.”

  “That’s probably true,” Mac conceded. “So what can we do for you, Mr. Ridge?”

  “Start by calling me Hugo.”

  “Okay, Hugo, what do you want?”

  “Is he always this standoffish?” Ridge asked with a smile, nodding toward Mac but looking to his right to Wire.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “How are you two holding up?” the author asked. “I mean the clock is kind of…”

  “Winding down,” Wire finished. “It is what it is.”

  “You’re not feeling the pressure?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?” Mac replied honestly. “You can’t help but feel it.”

  “No, I know you can’t. I’ve followed Rubens for ten years now and I’ve seen the impact on the people he torments. Although, I must say I do think this time he has taken on his toughest adversaries.”

  “What makes you say that?” Wire asked, curious.

  “Let’s take the guy who led the case in Boston.” Ridge shook his head. “I covered Gavin Sullivan for a few years when I had the crime beat for the Herald. He was a good man, a respected detective, but he didn’t really grasp what he was dealing with until it was too late. In Chicago, those guys were earnest street cops but they couldn’t think at Rubens’ level. They got absolutely nowhere, were out of their league and I don’t think Rubens even broke a sweat there. He just toyed with those two. In LA, Sam Walker was an impressive guy. Now he knew how to run a case. After I met him the first time, I thought there was a decent chance he’d catch Rubens. So did April Greene. And Walker got close, or at least as close as anyone has gotten. You two, however, with the cases you’ve handled, are at a different level.”

  “How so?” Mac inquired.

  “You’re a known commodity, for one. People have heard of you. Heck, you were just on 60 Minutes.”

  “Jealous?” Wire teased.

  “A little. I’ve never been on 60 Minutes,” Ridge replied with a smile. “I’ve spent more time on the Times best sellers list though.”

  “Congratulations. What makes you think we’re so much more formidable?” Mac inquired impatiently.

  “You both have dealt with pressure and I’m not blowing smoke—you two are pretty smart. I mean, look at your backgrounds.” Ridge had done his homework. He’d studied their careers, reciting facts and figures. “Michael Mackenzie McRyan here was a highly decorated St. Paul homicide detective, a fourth-generation cop, a member of St. Paul’s first family. Before that, he graduated from William Mitchell College of Law, magna cum laude and before that, with equally high honors, from the University of Minnesota where he was also captain of the national championship hockey team. You married once, then divorced and will in just a few short weeks, marry the lovely Ms. Sally Kennedy, White House Deputy Director of Communications. All in all, a pretty damn impressive background, especially for someone in his mid-thirties.”

  Ridge turned to Dara.

  “Ms. Wire, you attended the University of Virginia, graduating with highest honors and eschewed a chance to immediately enroll in the UVA law school to go work for the FBI. You used those hauntingly beautiful dark features to first work undercover and then later run operations designed to take a bite out of organized crime along the Eastern Seaboard, with a particular focus on New York City. You rose quickly through the Bureau but then abruptly departed after having rearranged the facial features of Donald Chandler Jr., the former Vice President’s son, I might add, for naming one of your informants who shortly thereafter met his unfortunate demise at the hands of the mob. You now quietly own a thriving private security consulting business and, like your good friend across the table, occasionally lend your investigative talents to the Bureau.”

  Ridge, very pleased with himself, took a drink from his beer. “Needless to say, at least on paper you two are a much higher caliber adversary for him.”

  “Not that it has done much good thus far,” Wire blurted out and Mac shot her a peeved glance.

  Ridge noticed the look and turned to Wire, the more willing of the two to talk. “Have you made any progress?” Ridge asked.

  “We’re working on it,” Dara answered, clamming up.

  “That I know to be true. I’ve been trying to get some time with you two but you’ve locked yourselves inside the field office and I haven’t yet figured out how to slither my way in there, at least not yet. When you two walked out I decided to follow and take a chance.”

  “Now that you have, any insight you care to share with us?” Mac asked.

  “About Rubens?”

  “Yeah,” Mac answered. “I’ve been engrossed in evidence and FBI data, so I haven’t had time to absorb the undoubtedly keen insight you have in your books.”

  Ridge smirked but plowed ahead. “Ans
wer me this: what are you two focusing on right now?”

  “How he picks the victims,” Wire replied, receiving another look from Mac. “Lighten up, Francis. What can it hurt to ask?” she scolded.

  “Yeah, Francis, what can it hurt to ask?” Ridge added teasingly.

  “Probably plenty,” Mac answered tersely, glowering at Wire. “But since one of us has opened the door, how does he pick the women?”

  “It’s interesting,” Ridge began. “When Rubens first started I didn’t think that would be that hard a thing for him. This will sound crass but these are not women who are overly attractive, at least as how you and I might look at them, Mac.”

  “Don’t assume I’m as shallow as you.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot, Sally Kennedy is totally Rubenesque,” Ridge mocked in reply. “Anyway, I thought at least at first that he’d probably just go up and talk to them and it wouldn’t take much to get them to come his way.”

  “What changed your mind?” Wire asked.

  “When I followed the story to Chicago, I was able to really get good access to the case and I was allowed to even sit down with April Greene, who is very smart by the way. She helped me with this part and explained that these women are actually much harder to get close to. Rubens’ victims end up being shy, introverted and slow, very slow to trust. In many cases, they are socially awkward and in a few cases, people described them as a little nutty. These are not women accustomed to a man taking interest in them so, while perhaps excited at the thought of a man’s interest, they are nevertheless wary of them and naturally suspicious. These are women who might ask themselves the question, ‘Why would this guy be interested in me?’ As a result of all of that scar tissue, it would take some time to break down their walls. They don’t have a big circle of friends and family. They are basically lonely and somewhat unapproachable people.”

  “Which is important from a witness standpoint,” Wire suggested.

  “I think so,” Ridge answered. “So, in reality, these are not overly easy women to find. You have to really work at it.”