“I’m familiar with Bola,” she said.
“Good, then I’ll see you at three.”
While the sheriff gave her his contact information, the missing persons he’d mentioned nagged at her. Bola’s population—she remembered from the town’s billboard—was around twelve hundred. Last fall, the university’s enrollment had been almost equal to the number of residents living in Bola. Granted, those missing person cases had occurred over the course of twenty years, but with approximately twenty five hundred people living in the area nine months out of the year, the number of missing persons seemed…staggering.
“Before you go,” Rachel said, and headed for the bedroom to pack a bag. “You’d mentioned that what happened to my brother relates to the missing persons you’ve had over the years. How so?”
“I’d planned on telling you when we met. It’s also the reason why I was hoping CORE could help us.” He paused, exhaled deeply, then said, “With almost every one of those missing persons, a note was left behind. Same writing, same message. Only this time, the note wasn’t left behind. It was left on your brother, stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.”
She stopped packing, and sat on the edge of the bed. “What did the note say?”
“‘Welcome to Hell Week. You have seven days to find him.’”
A chill swept over her and prickled the hair on her scalp. During fall semester, Sean had participated in the university’s rush week, and had decided to pledge the Eta Tau Zeta fraternity. Over winter break, he’d told her he was excited to join the Zetas, that they were a great group of guys, but had worried about the expense. She hadn’t worried about the money. The cost to join the fraternity and live at the frat house wasn’t much different than that of the dorms.
What had worried her, though, were the hazing rituals that occur during Hell Week. Sean had assured her that the university didn’t allow any form of hazing, that the school’s policy was strict and if any member of a fraternity was caught or even suspected of hazing, they would be expelled. Although the universities no-tolerance rules had eased her mind, and she’d met most of the boys from the fraternity, she’d still worried about her baby brother. She’d practically raised him and couldn’t help being overprotective.
Now he was six hours away, lying in some rinky-dink hospital.
“That note might make sense if you’d found it in Sean’s dorm room,” she said, more as a way to alleviate her unease. The missing persons, the note, Sean’s beating, the way he’d been left along the road…something wasn’t right in Bola.
“I don’t think the message was meant for Sean. Have you met your brother’s roommate?”
In an instant, the image of a handsome, athletic, blonde hair, blue-eyed kid jumped into her mind. Although Josh Conway was the polar opposite to her redheaded, brown-eyed, lanky, bookworm of a brother, the two boys had become close friends, and both were pledging the Eta Tau Zeta fraternity. “Yeah, I know Josh. What about him?”
“According to the dormitory residential assistant, both Sean and Josh were last seen leaving their dorm room Saturday evening. They were supposed to meet a few others at the library for a study session. Neither showed.”
“Is Josh…?”
“We have no idea of his whereabouts.”
And her brother had been beaten and left for dead.
Welcome to Hell Week.
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as a grisly thought came to mind. “Sheriff, these missing persons your town has seen over the years…were any of them students at Wexman University?”
“Not all, but most of them. Nine to be exact. With Josh Conway’s disappearance, we’re now up to ten.”
Ten? “The students, were any of them pledging a fraternity or sorority?”
“Fraternities. They were all male.”
Rachel tightened her grip on the cell phone. “When? Was there a specific time of year when these boys went missing?”
“January.”
“And their bodies?”
“They’ve never been found.”
While she wasn’t a criminalist like some members of CORE’s team, her years spent with Army Intelligence, along with her hacking skills, had prepared her for the job and had made her valuable to Ian Scott, the owner of the agency. During her tenure, she’d been involved in some seriously twisted cases. Her mind worked quickly and zeroed in on one thing.
“You have a serial killer in Bola.”
“That’s right, Miss Davis. Welcome to Hell Week. We have only seven days to find Josh Conway.”
*
With a yawn and a stretch, he climbed out of bed and toed on his slippers. After shrugging into his robe, he raced down the staircase and into the kitchen like a kid at Christmas. Eagerness and excitement hummed through his veins. Better than Christmas or a birthday or any other holiday, today marked a special day, a special beginning. The time of year he anticipated the most.
Hell Week.
As the coffee brewed, the strong, rich aroma of hazelnut and cinnamon wafted throughout the kitchen. While he waited for that first delicious cup, he did a mental checklist of today’s schedule. Monday was always a full workday, filled with meetings and preparations for the upcoming week. Pity. He’d love to play hooky today. He’d love to play with the pledge in his basement.
The pledge would have to wait until this evening. Work came first. Deviating from his daily routine was not an option. Besides, he knew in his heart, now, this moment wasn’t the right time. In the past, he’d made mistakes with his pledges. In his overzealousness, he’d rushed things, which had made for some…deadly results. He couldn’t rush anything with the new pledge. Twenty years ago, what began as therapy had now become legend. He had become legendary. No. There would be no rushing, no overzealousness. No more mistakes.
After what Junior had done on Saturday, there had better not be any more mistakes. He poured coffee into the mug, then blew on the liquid before taking a sip. Although still angry over Junior’s screw-up, he couldn’t stay mad at his only child. Hell Week would become Junior’s legacy. The gifts of dominance, control, power…definitely the kind of inheritance that keeps on giving.And he wanted his child to feel, to truly understand, what it is to have power over another human being. Over their pledge.
Although Junior had been born a disappointment, he never wanted his own flesh and blood to experience what he had twenty-five years ago. The powerlessness, the helplessness, the utter degradation at the hands of a monster. While it had taken him years to battle the nightmares that still haunted him, he’d made his mark on the world. Well, at least in Bola, Michigan.
Chuckling, he shrugged and looked out the kitchen window. He glanced at the trees in his backyard, now naked save for the clumps of icy snow resting on their branches, then to the path which led to the Menominee River. When he’d been a child, that path had terrified him. His parents had warned him never to walk through the forest alone, to never go near the river, or bad things would happen. Too true, he chuckled again, then took another sip of his coffee.
He no longer knew what it was like to be afraid. The Townies knew. They knew and they feared him.
Just like his parents had done, the town folk of Bola had spun terrifying stories to their children in order to keep them from venturing too far into the dense forests surrounding Bola. The university students, most of them spoiled, coddled, little shitheads, didn’t buy into the Townies’ fears and beliefs. They’d considered him a myth, akin to the celebrated Bigfoot many of the ignorant Townies had claimed to have seen roaming the area.
Fools.
He was no myth. But he should be feared. Every male student at the university should agonize and wonder.
Will he come for me this year?
While he’d bet there were a few young men who worried, they wouldn’t have to concern themselves any longer. He’d taken his pledge. By noon today, word of the boy’s disappearance would reach every corner of the campus and county. And so it would begin.
; Seven days of torture.
Seven days of hell.
The front door opened, sending in a loud gust of wind, then quickly shut.
“Junior?” he called as he left the kitchen and moved down the hallway into the foyer. He stopped, leaned against the stair rails and eyed his favorite mistake. “What have you learned?”
“They found Sean Davis late last night. He’s recovering at Dixon Medical Center. Depending on the severity of the concussion, he’ll likely be released in a few days.”
“And the note?”
“Sheriff Tyler didn’t mention it, but it’s obvious he found it. Around four this morning, he questioned the boys at the Eta Tau Zeta house, as well as the RA and some of the kids living at the dorm.”
He sipped his coffee, then said, “I wonder if our dedicated sheriff has tried to contact his family.”
“Davis’s?”
Waving his hand, he shook his head. “I don’t care about that whiney, little skid mark. Idiot, I’m referring to our pledge.”
“Yes, sir.” Junior looked to the floor. “Sorry. I don’t know. As you’re aware, the university administration offices open at eight. I wouldn’t be surprised if they receive a call from the sheriff then. Does he need Josh’s parents to file a missing person report?”
The mug, filled with his delicious coffee, smashed and splattered on the tile. In an instant he had Junior by the throat and up against the door. “Pledge,” he said, and tightened his grip. “That is his new name. That is what you will call him. Do you understand?”
Junior nodded, and whispered, “Yes, sir.”
He reined in his anger and loosened his hold. “Josh Conway is dead, figuratively speaking of course,” he said, calmer now, and stepped over the mess on the floor.
“Yes, of course.”
Turning his back, he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen for a new cup of coffee, but stopped at the threshold. “Clean up the mess you caused and meet me in the basement.”
“I thought we wouldn’t begin with the pledge until this evening.”
“You’re right, we won’t. But he must be given a taste of what’s to come.”
*
Owen Malcolm stifled a yawn and waited for Ian Scott, his boss and founder of CORE, to end his phone conversation. He glanced around Ian’s luxurious, yet comfortable office, particularly at the large, leather sofa near the fireplace, and ached for a nap. Not about to curl up on his boss’s sofa, he leaned into the plush office chair instead.
The past couple months of travelling might have finally caught up with him. November, there had been California and Las Vegas. December had him in San Antonio for a few weeks, then from there, he’d flown to Virginia to spend the holidays with his family.
While he’d loved visiting his parents, sisters and nieces and nephews, he couldn’t count the trip as a vacation. If he hadn’t been working odd jobs around the house for his mom and dad, his sisters had been ushering him, and his nieces and nephews, to the obnoxiously loud, germ- and kid-infested Play World. How many times can a kid go on the same humungous, inflatable slide without growing sick of it? Infinity, he assumed, because his sisters’ kids never stopped until they’d left, then had begged to go back the next day.
He’d take the raucous Play World over this last assignment, though. While Miami in January had its perks, beautiful, warm beaches, wild nightlife, and even wilder women, he didn’t have the chance to enjoy any of it. Instead, he’d spent three weeks helping the Miami-Dade police track down the man who’d been robbing, raping, then murdering elderly women. He’d found the guy. But the prick had put a bullet into his head before the police could arrest him. The suicide might not give the victims’ families total closure, but it had made his part in the investigation easier. Now he wouldn’t have to travel back to Florida for a long, drawn-out trial.
He looked out Ian’s office window. Nothing but gray sky. Maybe a long, drawn-out trial in Miami wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. Chicago plus January equaled snow and freezing temperatures.
Ian hung up the phone. “How was Florida?” he asked.
Owen straightened. “I didn’t get much of a chance to work on my tan,” he said, then leaned forward and handed him the case file.
Ian glanced through the paperwork. “When did you get back?”
He looked at the clock. “My flight got in about an hour ago. I haven’t even been to my condo yet.”
Arching his black brows, Ian leaned into his chair and shrugged. “Go home then.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
Ian shook his head and offered him a slight smile. “I know you didn’t.”
“Then why are you sending me home without giving me my next assignment?” In the six years he’d worked for Ian, other than his annual holiday trip to see the family and the occasional vacation, he’d never ended a case without being handed another.
And he needed another.
When he visited his folks, they kept him too busy to think. When he took a vacation, he always made sure they were well-scheduled trips, packed with a full itinerary. Downtime, lounging on the beach or poolside, didn’t work for him. If he stopped moving, his mind would go into overdrive. Bringing up the past. His mistakes. His regrets.
Ian moved, as if to run his hand through his salt and pepper hair, then instead, scratched the back of his head. “I don’t have anything for you.”
During his time with CORE, he’d only seen one member of the team let go. And it had started with, “I don’t have anything for you.”
Flashbacks from his days with the U.S. Secret Service suddenly shifted through his head. The cover-ups. The bullshit. The lies and dismissal.
He’d been loyal to Ian because the man had helped him salvage his career. His boss could be manipulative, but it was done with purpose. Ian, although not as blunt as he’d like, was still an excellent employer. He didn’t want to lose his job with CORE. Sure, with his background, he could find a position with another private agency, but he had no interest in working elsewhere. CORE had become his life. He liked his fellow agents, his hefty salary, the bonuses and the benefits.
“Is this the start of your firing process?”
Ian’s bark of laughter filled the office. “God, no. Why in the hell would I fire you? I can work you like a dog, and you never complain. I have no complaints.” He grew serious, then said, “You’ve been working cases back-to-back, and I don’t want you to burn out. I thought you could use a week to regroup. Paid, of course.”
Most people would have jumped at the opportunity of paid time off. And while he appreciated Ian’s intentions, he didn’t want a break. He’d rather work. The assignments kept his mind busy, his thoughts focused.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”
Ian eyed him, then nodded. “If you change your mind, just let me know. Meanwhile, I have an interesting cold case that needs solving.” He pulled a file from the drawer and set it on the desk.
Owen liked cold cases, especially the older ones where modern day technology hadn’t quite been invented. They were like puzzles. He enjoyed sifting through old paperwork, crime scene photos, and evidence. Seeing what fit and what didn’t, then solving what no one else could.
A rap at the door caught his attention. As he turned, Rachel burst into the room. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw him, then looked to Ian.
“Sorry, Ian. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I…” She looked away, stared out the window, then reached for the pencil tucked behind her ear.
Something had Beaver upset. Not once, during the four years Rachel had worked for CORE, had Owen ever seen her at a loss for words. The woman always had something to say, and had an annoying habit of doing so over a mouthful of pencil.
“I can come back,” Owen said, sensing Rachel might want a moment alone with Ian.
“No, actually, I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. I might be able to use your help.”
Interesting. Rachel never liked having him around
, and rarely asked him for help with anything. Why, he didn’t know. All he knew was that whenever he walked into the room, she threw verbal jabs, snarky uppercuts, and sarcastic hooks. He didn’t care, and actually liked Rachel. Although a bit…mouthy, he couldn’t deny her capabilities as CORE’s computer forensics analyst, plus he admired her intelligence and her quick-working mind.
“I’d be glad to help,” he said, still dumbfounded that she’d willingly have him part of the conversation.
She moved to the leather office chair next to him, then sat. “Yeah, well, no one else is here yet, so I have no choice.”
So much for thinking she’d been interested in his expertise.
“What’s going on?” Ian asked her.
“It’s my brother,” she began. “Late last night, he was found on the side of the road just outside of Bola, Michigan, beaten and unconscious.”
“My God, Rachel,” Ian said, and leaned forward. “How’s his condition?”
“He’s okay. I’ll know more when I see him.”
Ian nodded. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need. It’s a long drive to Bola. If you want to use the jet, feel free.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m going to drive. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t want to deal with a rental.”
“Understood,” Ian said.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Owen said, and meant it. He had three older sisters, and if anything bad had happened to them, he’d be devastated. And out for blood. While he doubted he’d ever have a family of his own, his parents, his sisters and their kids, meant everything to him. They accepted and loved him, faults and all. He knew Rachel had basically raised her brother, and couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. “Do you have any idea who did this to him?”
“The sheriff I spoke with doesn’t have any leads. That’s why I wanted you to stick around. I…ah.” She paused and glanced to the ceiling. Seconds later she looked at him. “I’d like your advice.”
Shadow of Vengeance Page 2