Coming Home

by PD Martin

  Coming

  Home

  PD Martin

  Also by PD Martin:

  Body Count

  The Murderers’ Club

  Fan Mail

  The Killing Hands

  Kiss of Death

  Coming Home

  Copyright © PD Martin 2010

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Cover design © katsiedesign 2010

  International acclaim for PD Martin’s books

  Body Count

  “A taut and terrific debut novel…Can't wait for her next.” Women's Weekly

  “PD Martin...ticks all the right boxes.” Sydney Morning Herald

  “A great, gripping read.” Woman's Day

  “...solid, well-researched debut...the intense first-person narration has enough twists and turns to keep forensics fans turning the pages.” Publishers Weekly

  “Martin's debut is truly superb, combining enough procedural details to satisfy CSI junkies with humor, emotion and a generous amount of chills.” Romantic Times

  The Murderers’ Club

  “Martin provides solid entertainment as she takes a high-concept premise and runs with it. The narrative is fast-moving, the protagonists likable, the police detail and dialogue believable and the serial killers just as evil as they need to be.” Publishers Weekly

  “...just as gripping and original as the first...The Murderers' Club is certainly a riveting read.” Herald Sun

  “The Murderers' Club is a real page-turner, with a dastardly mix of villains.” The Age

  Fan Mail

  “gripping read...” Herald Sun

  “best book in the series so far...” The Age

  “...her control of the threads of the stories is very masterful.” AustCrime

  “gripping and realistic thriller.” Good Reading

  “...twisted, intriguing and brilliant plot.” Sunday Territorian

  “Martin ratchets up the fear and the tension expertly.” Courier Mail

  “another winner...” New Weekly

  The Killing Hands

  “...more twists and turns than a Rubik's cube...” Herald Sun

  “...readers who enjoy hard-nosed police drama or CSI-style television shows will find her an engaging character.” Fresh Fiction

  “The plot is tight, with surprising twists.” Sunshine Coast Sunday

  “With plenty of tension and intrigue and an insight into the world of martial arts The Killing Hands is hard to put down.” Launceston Examiner

  Kiss of Death

  “...formidable stylist...” The Age

  “Sophie's investigation takes us to a darker side of the twilight world. A book to keep your brain in overdrive.” Woman’s Day

  “...a clever concoction blending standard crime fiction—there are procedural elements, some forensics... and profiling—with fantasy horror.” The Age

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to this interactive ebook. It was an exciting and challenging process for me, but I loved being able to “lift the veil” on the writing process for my readers. So if you voted (you know who you are), thanks for taking part! You can see the outcome of the chapter-by-chapter voting at www.pdmartin.com.au/ebook.

  I’d also like to thank and congratulate Virginia Danahay, who won my character name competition. Virginia features in Coming Home as Detective Virginia Danahay. Thanks to everyone else who entered the competition and sorry you’re not featured in this book!

  For editorial input, I’d like to thank my US editor, Adam Wilson who created that final level of finesse. However, please note I’ve followed Australian conventions in terms of spelling, punctuation, and so on. Big thanks also go to: Paul McCarthy (who came up with the idea of writing a book that got my readers involved in shaping the plot); Tony Wilkinson for designing the cover; Sandra Mueller (a Sophie fan) for volunteering her services to turn this book into an epub file; and my fans turned proofreaders—Linda Martin (no relation), Virginia Danahay, Simone Harland Winter, and Lisa Mackrill.

  For their professional expertise, I’d like to thank forensic pathologist Shelley Robertson for autopsy/medical facts; Ingrid Martin (also for medical facts); and Darren Wolchyn for some GPS facts. All deviations from reality are my mistakes, things I didn’t check, or artistic license.

  Finally, I’d like to thank my friends and family for all their support.

  About the author

  PD Martin lives in Melbourne, Australia, and developed a passion for crime fiction and storytelling at an early age. This interest was reinforced with formal education through a Bachelor of Behavioural Sciences (with majors in psychology and criminology) and a Postgraduate Certificate in Professional Writing (Creative Writing). PD Martin also holds a black sash from the Australian Tiger and Crane Kung Fu School.

  Coming Home is the sixth book featuring FBI criminal profiler Sophie Anderson, following on from Body Count, The Murderers’ Club, Fan Mail, The Killing Hands and Kiss of Death—all of which received glowing reviews around the world. Coming Home is the only ebook in the series—the other books are all full novels published in hardback/paperback around the world. To date, the Sophie Anderson series has been published in Australia, New Zealand, the US, Canada, the UK, Ireland, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden, Finland and Argentina. PD Martin has also contributed to a true-crime anthology titled Meaner than Fiction.

  Prior to becoming a full-time author, PD Martin worked as a professional writer for over ten years, writing award-winning copy for brochures, newsletters, websites, training CD-ROMs, flyers, ads, media releases and magazines.

  For more information visit www.pdmartin.com.au.

  Chapter 1

  The shrill echo of a ringing phone pierces my eardrum and pulls me out of a deep sleep. That’d be right—the one time I actually seem to be getting a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Hello?’ My voice is hoarse.

  ‘Soph, it’s Mum.’

  I instinctively glance at my bedside clock—3am, which makes it 9pm in Melbourne now that they’re on daylight savings. Mum never gets the time zones mixed up, never.

  I push myself upright. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  ‘The police just left.’ Her voice is frail. Another never for Mum.

  ‘Police? Is Dad okay?’

  ‘Yes.’ A pause, then, ‘Bob, pick up.’

  A noisy click sounds down the phone line.

  ‘Dad, what’s happening?’

  ‘Hi, Soph.’ His tone is flat, like he’s done ten rounds in an emotional ring.

  ‘Dad? Tell me what’s wrong.’ I swing my feet to the ground and flick on my bedside light.

  ‘I told your mother we should wait...until a reasonable hour.’

  I know something’s up but I’ve got Mum and Dad on the line, safe—so maybe it’s about one of my friends? My ex? Cousins?

  ‘What is it?’ My voice is harsher than I intended.

  A silence then Mum sobs, ‘John.’

  John?

  I rack my brains for a different John. A family friend? Relative?

  Because the only John that comes to mind is my brother—but he was murdered nearly thirty years ago. Case closed…never resolved, but closed.

  ‘The police were just here,’ Dad continues. ‘There’s been another murder.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Just like John’s.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re re-investigating John’s murder. And the cases of the other two boys who were killed before John.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I sink onto my bed, faint and nauseous.

  John? After all these years? I’d given up on justice for John or my family—channelled the need to right the wrongs into my work, into other victims and families. I’m sure a part of me
became a cop to find John’s killer, because as soon as I got into the Victoria Police I pulled his file and those of the other two boys. But despite a youthful confidence that I’d be able to solve the murders and fix our broken lives, I couldn’t see it…couldn’t see the major mistake the cops had made. Couldn’t see the needle in the haystack that would bring John’s killer to justice. As time went by and I moved up the ranks to Homicide I realised that some cases don’t get solved…ever. As much as I hated the thought that John’s murder was going to be one of those cases, eventually I came to accept it. Still, I could never shake the feeling that I’d failed. Failed myself and failed my brother. I shudder, sinking into the helplessness. Maybe the need to escape is one of the reasons I’d leapt at the chance to leave Australia and work for the FBI in America.

  I still look at John’s file on the anniversary of his death every year, in the hope that something new will stand out for me. But for the past ten years or so it’s been more about the ritual than a belief that I could actually solve his murder.

  And now this? After all this time? John’s killer was…is…a sex offender, a serial killer who preys on young boys. The bodies of three boys between the ages of nine and twelve were found over a five-year period. John was the last. And then nothing. We’d tried to pick up our lives as best we could, and I fled into law enforcement, driven by my desire for justice. It’s been so long since we dealt with any of this.

  If a killer re-surfaces after a number of years it generally means one thing—he was doing time. And a very long stretch, like twenty or thirty years for multiple sentences.

  There are a few other explanations for a serial killer suddenly stopping. My personal favourite is that the bastard was dead, preferably having gotten to that state in some slow and painful way. Severe illness is another explanation—maybe even a coma or life-changing injury like paraplegia. It’s also possible they refine their MO so that new bodies aren’t found, and sometimes they’ve moved away into someone else’s jurisdiction. One thing’s for sure…serial sex offenders don’t just suddenly stop. Not without a damn good reason. And now he was back.

  ‘Are you okay, Soph?’ Dad’s voice brings me back from the abyss.

  ‘I’m okay. It’s just…I can’t believe it.’ I stand up, pacing with the phone pressed hard against my ear and trying desperately not to picture a little boy’s crumpled and vulnerable body lying in a ditch somewhere. Trying not to see John’s killer strangling him. Bile rises, but I force it back down.

  ‘I can’t believe it either.’ Mum’s voice is barely a whisper.

  The facts…the case. Stay focused, Sophie. I worked in Melbourne’s Homicide Department for six years; chances are I know the cops who just left my parents’ house.

  ‘Who were the detectives?’ I ask.

  ‘Detective Bradley Shaw and Detective Virginia Danahay,’ Dad answers. ‘I’m not sure if they’re in charge of the case or just doing initial re-interviews.’

  ‘I know Brad.’

  ‘Yeah…he said he knew you. You’ll talk to him?’

  ‘Yes…expect me home soon.’

  ‘What about the Bureau, darling?’

  Mum knows how strict the FBI is with leave. Three weeks a year, and the rest of the time I’m officially on call 24/7. But nothing can keep me out of Australia now. The new murder could blow John’s case open, but it also means another generation of young boys is in danger. There’s only one place for me now—home.

  ‘They’ve gotta give me leave for this, Mum. Compassionate grounds and all.’ I glance at my watch again. No travel agents or airlines will be open now, but I can probably jump online and book a ticket.

  ‘I need to tie up a few loose ends here but I’m coming home and the sooner the better.’

  ‘Okay, darling.’

  I can hear the relief in Mum’s voice. This is a time for us all to be together, not half a world apart. Besides, with my contacts and expertise I should be able to move things in the right direction. I may be an interfering pain-in-the-arse to Brad and the other detectives, but who cares?

  Only one thing matters now: finding John’s killer and making him pay.

  By 7am I’m packed, booked on the 11.30pm Qantas flight out of LAX and on my way to work. I haven’t called my boyfriend Darren yet, but it’s on my list. Soon enough. I’ve also avoided calling Detective Brad Shaw, opting to simply show up at the St Kilda Road Office in person. Might work better than giving him a heads-up and twenty-four hours’ notice. I probably should have got the official Bureau sign-off before actually booking and paying for my flight but I can’t imagine them saying no, and if they do…well, nothing can keep me away. Not now.

  As I’d expect, the office is still fairly quiet when I arrive. The majority of employees start around 8am, many aiming for 7.30am or even 7am to beat the worst of the notorious LA traffic. Today I’ll need all the time I can get, given I’ve got a lot of cases on my to-do list and no one to officially hand them over to. I certainly can’t wrap them all up by the end of the day, but I can prioritise, send some on to the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico and work on others while I’m back in Melbourne. Who knows how long I’ll be away for, but no matter what happens, I can’t imagine getting more than four weeks off from the FBI, even given the circumstances.

  I slow down at Brady’s office, ready to go straight in, but his office is dark and Melissa’s desk is empty too. Another fifteen minutes and I’m sure they’ll both be in. I suppose fifteen minutes will give me enough time to put together a rough strategy of what should happen to my workload, and bosses do like to be approached with strategies, not problems.

  While my computer fires up, I try to focus on my current cases, not John. The last thing I want to be doing is sitting at my desk for the next twelve hours getting my workload in order—I’d much rather be on a plane, now. I take a deep breath…means to an end, Sophie, means to an end.

  I stare down at my weekly planner. My main focus this week was a profile of a serial rapist who’s attacked seven women in and around Redondo Beach. The LAPD is worried he may escalate to murder and want a profiler’s input. There are six other current requests for profiles from the LA region, a request for prosecution strategy input, plus my usual follow-ups on investigations I’ve already profiled. Most of the time cops keep me in the loop, but once every couple of months I phone the lead detectives of past cases, just to see if there have been any breaks or changes. I usually discover at least a couple of perps who have been caught and so I update my files and compare the perp with the offender profile I drafted, noting any points of difference. I’ll jump the next two weeks’ worth of follow-up calls to today, and can catch up on any others I miss when I get stateside again. Time to get rid of a few cases…

  Andy Rivers is the head of the BAU and my old boss. I give his assistant, Janet, a call. Given they’re three hours ahead of us I shouldn’t have any trouble getting hold of her.

  She answers after two rings.

  ‘Behavioral Analysis Unit.’

  ‘Hi Janet, it’s Sophie Anderson.’

  ‘Sophie, hey! It’s been a while. How’s LA treating you?’

  I could tell Janet what’s going on, but I don’t feel the need to let her into my private life. I worked at the BAU for over a year and a half, but hardly anyone knows about my brother. It’s in my personnel file—no secrets from the official Bureau files—but generally only my direct bosses see the file…them and the Bureau shrinks.

  ‘I’m really enjoying the West Coast. How are you? Busy as always?’

  ‘You said it. Andy keeps me on my toes.’

  ‘Actually, I was phoning to see if you could manage a couple more cases?’

  She makes a wincing noise down the line. ‘I’ll have to check with the boss, but tell me about them and their time frames.’

  I decide to try to pass on three out of my six waiting files. ‘I’ve got two homicides and one child abduction case. To be honest they’re not particularly complex, I’m just snow
ed under.’

  ‘You must be…you hardly ever send cases our way.’

  ‘It’s busy.’ Not exactly a lie…it is busy, it’s just that’s not the reason why I’m handballing three profiles to the BAU. ‘In terms of time frame, I guess a week or two would be good.’

  ‘We should be able to get them assigned to someone for you, but I’ll check with Andy. Can you email me something? A formal request and a summary of each case should do it.’

  ‘Sure. Thanks, Janet.’

  ‘No problem. I hope you get a breather some time soon.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I hang up and take a deep breath, exhausted from the effort of trying to sound normal. Andy Rivers knows about John; I may give him a call with my real reason but not until I talk to Brady. I take a deep breath….Brady.

  I gather up my six files and the printout of my Outlook Calendar for the next four weeks before making my way back to Brady’s office.

  Melissa is at her desk and looks up. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  ‘Hi.’ I force a smile. ‘I need to speak to Brady. Urgently.’ I look away, aware that I’m acting a little cagey.

  Melissa gives me a quizzical glance but hits her intercom button. ‘Agent Anderson’s here to see you, sir. It’s urgent.’

  Brady looks up. The intercom system is almost redundant, as Brady’s office is nearly totally glassed, giving him an easy visual out to Melissa’s desk and vice versa. When he wants privacy he closes the venetians.

  Brady’s brow furrows together, but he gives me a nod. I’ve interrupted something, but Melissa did say the magic word—urgent.

  ‘Thanks, Melissa.’

  Slipping into Brady’s office, my stomach is full of knots. I can’t stand the thought of talking to anyone, particularly Brady, about new leads in John’s murder, but there’s no other option. Brady’s great at running the LA Field Office, but his management skills are more about organisation and respect than people skills. I sure would rather be having this conversation with Andy Rivers back at Quantico.