by Robin Mahle
“So you’re in training?”
“I can assure you that I have the necessary skills to handle such a case. I’ve been directly involved in others, too many others, of a similar nature.” She didn’t want to pull the “victim” card. But it did give her a uniqueness that probably no other profiler or other type of agent had.
“Okay, Agent Reid. Without formally requesting the FBI’s help, I’ll send you what I have so far. I’m awaiting the autopsy results from the latest victim, but I’ll send those as soon as I have them. If you can tell me the type of person I’m looking for, I suppose it can’t hurt.”
“Thank you, detective. I’ll get started as soon as I receive your files. I’ll be in touch after that. Have a good day, sir.” Kate flinched at the sound of the line going dead. He’d hung up without saying another word.
She walked back into the hall and happened across Dwight on her way to her desk. “Hey. Looks like I might be consulting with the LAPD on a case.”
“Really? Why don’t you tell me about it at dinner tonight? I’m inviting you and Nick out. Can you make it?”
“What’s the occasion?”
“I’d like you both to meet someone. Is that all right with you?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there. What about Nick?”
“He’s coming whether he wants to or not.” Dwight smiled and started past her again. “See you at eight. I’ll send you the address.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Sharpe marched into the hall and toward his captain’s office. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed his way in.
“Sharpe,” the captain said as he sat at his desk. “Come in, why don’t you?”
“Did you put a call in to the feds about the Pretty Face investigation?”
“What are you talking about? Why would I do that?”
“I just got a call from someone at BAU. She wants the files to run a profile on our suspect.”
“We don’t have a suspect yet. But no, I made no such call. Who is this person?”
“Agent Kate Reid out of the Washington Field Office.”
“Washington? Well, shit, if I was going to ask for help, I’d contact the LA field office.”
“Agreed, but they don’t get involved unless asked, so you didn’t ask?”
“No, Sharpe. I didn’t ask. But it’s a profiler. I’m thinking it’s not a bad idea. Especially on this one. You still have no leads.”
“I’m waiting on the latest autopsy results.”
“Regardless, unless this time the suspect left behind DNA, we could use help from the people who deal with these kinds of killers all the time.” He studied Sharpe for a moment. “Who is this agent? Any good?”
“Kate Reid. Don’t know her from Adam—Eve. Says she’s worked on a bunch of similar cases.”
The captain placed his glasses on his face and began typing on his computer. “Let’s just see what we can find out on this person. If we’re going to get help, I don’t want it to be some hack.”
“You can just look her up?”
“No. But I’ve got a friend in the LA field office. I’ll shoot him an email and find out who she is. And make sure they don’t get butt-hurt if they’re circumvented.” He turned back to Sharpe. “In the meantime, just do what you’re doing. Get those results back as soon as possible. I don’t care if you have to camp out in front of the ME’s office. Just get them.”
“Will do.” Sharpe walked out of the office with less staunch than when he arrived, feeling better that his captain hadn’t undermined his authority. Ray Sharpe had been on the force for fifteen years, working these very same streets since the beginning. Put his time in the Gang and Narcotics unit for five years. Took the detective exam and moved over to Special Ops support. And now he worked in Homicide, which, in this part of LA, meant he had to stay on his toes. This was “Death Valley,” the part of LA County that had the highest homicide rate. He didn’t need a gung-ho FBI agent tailing his every move.
Still, as the captain said, he’d give her the information. If she was good enough, then she might come up with something of use. No skin off his teeth.
Sharpe walked back into his office and reached for his phone. “Damn it.” He’d missed a call from the ME. He ripped his jacket off the back of the chair and walked back out into the hall.
“Where you going?” an officer asked.
“ME’s got the report. I’m heading over there now.” He continued through the halls of the station until exiting through a staff door. He never went out the front if he could help it. Too many people he’d seen in his earlier days. Most were repeat offenders and he didn’t want to make a scene.
Within minutes, he was on the road, heading south to the medical examiner’s office. He could’ve just called him back and got the report emailed, but he preferred to do things in person. Less room for misinterpretation. Sharpe was a little old school like that. Not that he was old. A cop in his forties. Hell, he could still retire in five years. Full pension. But that wasn’t who he was. He’d probably never stop working, unless he took a bullet.
Sharpe entered the parking garage of the building and again slipped on his jacket and walked inside. He was a southern California boy born and bred, and it was always cold as hell inside that place.
“I’m here to see Dr. Hahn,” he said to the receptionist.
She nodded and made the call. “Go on back, detective. He’s ready for you.”
Sharpe pulled open the ME’s door and the whiff of ammonia almost made his eyes water. “Dr. Hahn. You have something for me?”
“Have a seat, detective. Thank you for coming down, though it was completely unnecessary.”
“You know how I like to work.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” The doctor began to retrieve the file in question on the latest victim. “I have a thumb drive ready for you to take, but this is what I’ve come up with.” He opened the file folder and pushed it toward the detective.
Sharpe began to review the report, flipping the pages and not saying a word. A moment later, he looked up. “Same MO, then. Sexual assault postmortem. Multiple stab wounds. Never touching the face except to take care to apply makeup.”
“Yes.” Dr. Hahn nodded. “There is one thing I did find that was not on the others.” He reached for the report and flipped the page. “Here. I found a synthetic fiber, like from a wig.”
“The victim’s?”
“I don’t think so. I found no evidence of any other matching fibers on her scalp or clothing.”
“He’s disguising himself.” Sharpe reviewed the report again. “No DNA anywhere?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then all I’ve got is a fiber.”
“Yes.”
With a nod and downturned mouth, he began, “I can work with that.”
CHAPTER 6
The rain was coming down in icy sheets by the time Kate arrived at the restaurant. Standing under the awning, she closed the umbrella and brushed off the drops of rain that had accumulated on her coat.
“Good evening, miss.” A man stood at the restaurant’s entrance and pulled open the door for her. “You’ll warm up once you’re inside. Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you.” Kate walked through the door, offering a gentle smile for the man.
A hostess stood at the podium, awaiting Kate’s approach.
“Hi. I’m here with the Jameson party.”
“Yes, of course. Right this way.” The hostess led Kate farther inside the restaurant.
She smiled at the sight of Dwight and a woman whom she was excited to meet. “Thank you. I see them.” She continued her approach. “Evening.”
Dwight immediately stood. “Kate. You look very nice. Thank you for coming. I’d like you to meet someone.” He turned to his date. “This is Abby. Abby Whitman.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kate offered her hand to the woman, who appeared somewhat daunted.
“Kate. I’ve heard so much about you. Very nice to meet
you as well. Please, sit down.”
Kate surveyed the restaurant. “Where’s Nick?”
“Something came up, I guess,” Dwight began. “He won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” Kate could see in Dwight’s eyes how disappointed he was. She knew nothing could’ve been so important that Nick couldn’t have taken a couple of hours out to meet Dwight’s new girlfriend and she was disappointed in him too. “Well, his loss, then.” Kate opened the menu. “What’s good here?”
♦ ♦ ♦
Nick sat in his car in the parking garage of his building. He’d already excused himself from attending the dinner, but guilt pervaded over the past couple of hours. Dwight had been there for him so many times, he’d lost count. And now the one time Dwight needed him, he’d bailed.
But Dwight wasn’t the problem. He’d wanted to go and meet this new girl he’d seemed so excited about. It was the first time in years, Nick had seen him so happy. Perhaps he was a little jealous. The real problem was seeing Kate. Especially since he’d confided in Dwight about his feelings and Kate’s rejection. Nick felt that being there with all of them would be too uncomfortable now.
And then there was the issue about his possible departure from the WFO. Dwight knew about it, but Kate didn’t. Nick was afraid that might come up as well and he wasn’t prepared to deal with it.
In the end, here he was now, sitting in his car, ready to fire up the engine and drive to the restaurant anyway. He’d be late, of course, but maybe it was better than not showing up at all.
A calming breath and he was off. He’d considered texting Dwight to let him know he was on his way, but in the end, if they were already gone, he’d at least have tried. He was almost ashamed of his behavior but was at a loss as to how to handle this entire situation. A situation he’d worsened by distancing himself from Kate.
Within minutes, he’d arrived and pulled alongside the valet parking attendant. The attendant opened the door of Nick’s SUV.
“Good evening, sir. Here for dinner?”
A bit of an obvious question, but Nick let it pass. “Yes.” He handed the man his keys and jogged toward the restaurant’s entrance beneath its cover to avoid the rain, and waited for the valet ticket.
“Here you are, sir. Enjoy your evening.” The man smiled.
Nick stood outside the entrance for a moment and peered through the window. It was busy inside and he didn’t see his friends. He reconsidered his actions.
“Let me get that for you, sir.” The doorman opened it up and waited for Nick to walk inside.
It seemed he had no choice now and entered the restaurant. “The Jameson party,” he said to the hostess.
She kindly walked him back and gestured toward their table. “Right over there, sir. Enjoy your evening.”
Dwight noticed him. “Nick? Hey, buddy. I didn’t think you could make it tonight.” He stood up to greet him. “We’ve already started eating.”
“That’s fine. My fault I’m late. Turns out I was able to wrap things up and make it down here.” He glanced at Dwight’s date. “Hello. And you are?”
“This is Abby Whitman. Abby, this is Nick Scarborough.”
“Of course.” Abby greeted him warmly. “Dwight has said some wonderful things about you.”
“I’m sure he has.” Nick sat down between Dwight and Kate. “Evening, Kate.”
“Hi. I’m glad you could make it after all.” She eyed him carefully.
“Me too. I’m sorry I’m so late.”
The two held one another’s gaze for several moments before Nick finally broke away to look at the menu. “Maybe I’ll just get an appetizer.”
“We’re in no rush,” Dwight replied.
Nick placed a quick order and turned his attention to Dwight after the waiter departed. “So, Abby, how did you and Dwight meet? I have to say, he’s been pretty quiet about you until now.”
“Well,” her entire face lit up as she began to speak, “our kids have been on the same soccer team for the past two seasons, and one day, just before a game, he came up and started talking to me. We sort of hit it off after that.”
“It’s not often I can attend the games, as you know,” Dwight looked at Nick. “So I thought I might not get the chance to see her for a while and figured, why not?”
“Why not?” Kate smiled. “Well, you both seem very suited to one another. Dwight is a great friend and a wonderful man. I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Thank you.” Dwight squeezed Abby’s hand as it rested on the edge of the table. “She’s pretty great too.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Detective Sharpe arrived early, which wasn’t unusual for a man who’d been rising with the sun practically since birth. He might rise a bit slower now but never arrived at the station beyond seven in the morning and today was no exception.
As he sat down at his desk and placed his steaming coffee next to his keyboard, Sharpe waited for his computer to wake up. And when it did, several emails awaited him, but only one that caught his eye immediately.
The subject line was in all caps and the sender was his captain. “This is the Kate Reid,” it read. Sharpe clicked it open and began to read.
“You wanted to know who this was and, according to my people, this is the same Kate Reid from a few years back who tracked down her abductor.”
Sharpe was well aware of the Hendrickson case and the Highway Hunter investigation, which also had involved Ms. Reid. Within striking distance of San Diego, he’d even known a few cops who were originally involved. This was unexpected news indeed. And Sharpe now was most interested in knowing more about Ms. Reid’s skills as a profiler. He hadn’t known she’d gone on to work for the FBI. She’d kept a very low profile since the funeral of that detective he couldn’t quite recall the name of. But he’d been at the funeral. Most of the precincts in southern California had attended. It was just what you did when a cop was killed in the line of duty.
Perhaps she could be of some use after all. Now that there was confirmation the killer was disguising himself, he could present this new information to her as well. There could be similar cases he was as of yet unaware. He’d begun to like Kate already. How could he not appreciate someone who’d been through hell and made it out the other side?
“Agent Reid?” Sharpe asked when she answered the call. “This is Detective Ray Sharpe with LAPD. We spoke the other day?”
“Yes, of course. Hello, detective. I haven’t received any files from you yet, so I’m actually glad you called.”
“I apologize for that, but I’ll be sending them over shortly. We did receive some new information based on the autopsy performed on the latest victim. It seems our suspect likes to disguise himself. A synthetic fiber, such as those found on inexpensive wigs, was discovered on the body. And it doesn’t appear to have come from the victim.”
“That is interesting. I’ll keep an eye out for the information. I’d like to start digging into it right away.”
“Certainly. Give me a call after you’ve had a chance to review the information.”
“Will do. Thank you, Detective Sharpe. I appreciate your confidence.”
“Goodbye, Agent Reid.”
“Who was that?” Agent Vasquez approached her cubicle.
“You remember me mentioning a friend of mine, Marc Aguilar, and how he wanted me to look into a case in LA?”
“Yeah. Something come of that?”
“It did. That was the lead detective. He’s sending me the file so I can develop a profile of the unsub.”
“That’s great. I think it’s high time you started getting involved in that type of work. I know you’ve been interested in it for a while. And without Agent Myers…” Vasquez trailed off.
“Right. She left a pretty big hole,” Kate replied.
It was only minutes later that Kate received the information from Sharpe. She opened the files and began to study the reports, some of which she already had, thanks to Marc, though she
hadn’t mentioned that to Sharpe. However, it did bring to mind that she needed to let Marc know what was going on. This was important to him, even if she didn’t fully agree with his reasons. He’d been there for her in the past and she would return the favor.
Kate picked up her phone again and began to write a text to Marc. “I’m working on what we talked about now. I’ll call you later about it.”
She began to run a search into similar investigations, looking to find a link to other unsolved cases with similar signatures. While there was plenty of information out there, none seemed to quite match this one. Here was an unknown subject who was killing women, leaving them posed in public, and making up their faces as though they were modeling. And then it occurred to her. Could this person have been taking photos and perhaps uploading them?
Kate rose immediately and began walking toward Nick’s office. He would know how best to approach this and could offer guidance. “Hey, can I talk to you a minute?” She stood in his doorway.
“Come in. What’s going on?” He turned away from his computer.
Kate moved in. “That detective in LA? Sharpe? He sent me the case file on the killer. They’re calling it the Pretty Face murders, I guess. Anyway, I got to thinking, he’s making up these women and essentially putting them on display. Do you think he could also be taking pictures and posting them online on some website?”
Nick folded his arms and creased his brow. “That’s entirely possible but would be extremely difficult to track down.”
“I understand that. I guess where I’m going with this is in terms of the unsub’s personality. His fetishes.”
Nick began to nod. “I’d say it’s definitely something worth considering. Have you approached the detective about it yet?”
“No. I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface on this and I didn’t want to run to him without more information.”
“There could be a way we can find out.”