She pressed the button that illuminated the face on her wristwatch and checked the time—7:15. She watched for movement in his house as she crept closer. All of the rooms nearest the patio were brightly lit. Since she didn’t know the layout of his home, she’d have to be extra cautious as she approached. She assumed that, as with most of the homes she had already passed, those rooms were the dining area, kitchen, and possibly the family room. Jordan reached the patio and breathed a sigh of relief. Patios were quieter than creaky decks, and she could slink along the back side of the house without making noise. She saw movement through the doors—the reflection of the television screen bounced off the glass. Ted was likely in the family room.
Jordan followed the outer wall around the side of the house until she reached the family room window. Through the half-closed blinds, she saw him. Ted was on the recliner and faced the television, his feet up, and he was sound asleep. Once inside, she’d have to quickly subdue him before he had a chance to grab the cell phone on the end table next to him. She was thankful there wasn’t a dog in the house. That would definitely throw a wrench in her plans. Ted’s home had no alarm, either—she had checked that out a few days back. It was time to go.
Jordan slipped on the rubber gloves that would make gripping the glass patio door easier. The stun gun was already secured in her jacket pocket. With her arms outstretched and her fingers splayed, she lifted the door out of the locking mechanism and slid it to the side, just enough to get through the opening. She waited for the sound of the recliner lever lowering the footrest but heard nothing. She stepped over the threshold and into the dinette then slipped off her shoes and continued forward. The family room was just beyond the kitchen wall, and the drone of the TV would muffle any sound she might accidentally make. Each small step took her closer to the mission she had been anticipating. Jordan reached the wall and peeked around the corner. Ted remained asleep and could have no idea what was coming. With the stun gun in her right hand and her thumb on the red button, she approached him cautiously. His heavy lids opened right at the second she leaned in and gave him the full force of the high-voltage gun to his neck. The scent of scorched skin wafted up her nose as she watched the current bounce back and forth between the prongs. A short involuntary grunt sounded, then Ted fell unconscious.
Jordan dropped her backpack to the floor and unzipped it. She had to move quickly before he woke. She pulled out the zip ties and secured his arms behind his back. The large white ones bound his ankles together. With a foot-long strip of duct tape, she covered his mouth. Within seconds Ted woke to realize he had been rendered helpless. Fear and confusion engulfed his face as he squirmed to no avail. Then he saw her. She sat on the couch ten feet away and stared blankly at him as if she were in a trance. She shook herself out of her thoughts and returned to the moment. Jordan rose and crossed the room.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
He moaned through the duct tape and, with bulging eyes, shook his head.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. No accountability, that’s the problem these days. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” She chuckled as she disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. Jordan rifled through the cabinets as she tried to find the perfect container. “Ah, here we go. This will do the trick.” She went back to the family room and scooped up her backpack. She cocked her head at the bound man. “Comfortable, Ted?” She smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
Back in the kitchen, Jordan mixed the ingredients into the perfect consistency—smooth and thick but not overly thick. More like pancake batter. Ted had plenty of suffering to endure. She didn’t want to kill him too soon.
The sound of his cell phone vibrating sent Jordan into the family room again. She picked it up and saw a text had come in from Amanda. She read it aloud.
We’re relaxing by the pool, and Megan is being spoiled rotten by Grandma and Grandpa. They send their love. Tomorrow, we’ll be at Disney World for the entire day, and Tuesday is Busch Gardens. Call me when you get a chance.
“Isn’t that sweet? Apparently I can take my time with you and get really creative. The old lady and kid aren’t coming home anytime soon. I’ll text a quick response just so we aren’t bothered anymore tonight.”
With that done, Jordan dropped the cell phone in her jacket pocket and zipped it up then returned to the kitchen. She came around the corner with a pitcher in hand and set it on the coffee table then pulled a length of rope out of her backpack.
“Time to begin, Ted. I’m going to secure you to the recliner really tight so you don’t thrash around. Sound good?” He immediately began squirming. “See what I mean? I knew you weren’t the type that would go down without a fight.”
Jordan wrapped the rope around Ted’s chest and the chair several times then moved down to his legs and did the same. A kicking man would make her task more difficult. She lowered the back of the recliner as far as it would go then secured his forehead to the lounger with the tape. Ted couldn’t budge.
She stood to the side and assessed her accomplishments. “Yeah, that looks good.” She pulled a funnel out of her backpack then ripped the duct tape from Ted’s mouth. “Don’t worry. I made it thin enough to swallow. You’ll get three ounces every few hours, and don’t fight me, or I’ll have to pinch your nose closed. I guarantee you, you’ll swallow this one way or another.”
“Who the hell are you, and why are you doing this to me?”
“Retribution. I have to make this right and bring everything back into balance. Right now, the scale is tipped in the favor of you incompetent murderers. Consider me your judge and jury, and you’re the first to go.”
Jordan jammed the funnel into Ted’s mouth and tipped the pitcher. He gurgled and sputtered the gray liquid as she poured.
“There, that’s enough for now. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Pretty tasteless, right?”
He gasped and coughed as she pulled the funnel from his mouth. “What are you doing? What was that?”
“What difference does it make? You’ll get another dose at ten o’clock.” She tore off a fresh strip of tape and pressed it across his mouth then checked the doors, drew the blinds, and took a seat on the couch. By morning he would be dead, and his name would be crossed off the list. She had seven more people to go.
Throughout the night, Jordan poured more of the mixture down Ted’s throat. He moaned with what she hoped was excruciating pain as his intestines slowly clogged and solidified. By seven a.m., little life remained in him. In the garage, Jordan scoured the shelves and corners as she looked for the perfect instrument to finish him off with. She had to make a personal statement, and she found exactly what she needed in his work vehicle. Back in the house, she filled the bathtub and poured in the ReadyKrete. This time she needed it thick. She stirred the mixture with a baseball bat she’d found in the garage.
Jordan went to the family room and stared at Ted. He was near death. She filled his mouth one last time with the ReadyKrete and sealed the tape over it. She was sure his throat would solidify quickly. She removed the ropes and dragged him to the bathroom, where he lay on the floor. She checked the concoction in the tub—it was the consistency of thick cement. She lowered him into the deep mixture and pushed him down with the baseball bat. The only part of him exposed above the gray sludge was his head. The ReadyKrete would be solid within the hour, and she planned to wait it out. She needed to do one final thing before moving on to the next name on her list. Jordan positioned Ted so his head was resting back on the flat corner of the tub.
“Yeah, that should do it.”
She reached for the surveying tripod she had found in his truck. With a violent downward thrust, she embedded the pointed legs into Ted’s eyes then pushed his head beneath the solidifying cement crypt. She gathered her backpack and supplies then slipped out the patio doors and disappeared behind the homes.
Chapter 4
“How cool is this, Jade?”
“What’s that?” I set my go bag next to
the garage door. The logical place for that bag would be in the trunk of my car at all times, but winter wouldn’t be kind to hair products and toothpaste—they would freeze solid. I’d keep the bag on the shelf above the washer and dryer when I was at home.
Amber handed me a cup of coffee and motioned for me to take a seat. I double-checked the time. I had a forty-minute drive ahead of me, but I didn’t need to leave quite yet. Amber slipped an oven mitt over her hand and pulled a pan of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. I shook my head in amazement.
“I’m not Wonder Woman, Jade. These are the canned ones that just need to be baked.”
I laughed. “Give me a couple of those, damn it. They smell delicious. And yes, you are Wonder Woman, in my eyes, anyway.” I reached out and pulled two cinnamon rolls out of the pan and dropped them on my plate. “Ow, those suckers are hot!”
“I was going to tell you to be careful, and I haven’t even frosted them yet.”
I shook my hand and blew on the burn then opened the can of frosting and smeared a knifeful over my rolls.
“Anyway, back to what I was going to say. Isn’t it cool that we’re both about to leave for our jobs in law enforcement?”
I cautiously bit into a steaming roll. “Yes, it’s way cool. I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous though. You know, that fear of the unknown when anyone starts a new job.”
“Yeah, I already knew everyone at the sheriff’s department thanks to you and the years you worked there. Aren’t you going to miss everyone, Jade?”
“I already do.”
Twenty minutes later, I backed out of the garage with my go bag on the passenger seat. I waved at Amber, who stood in the doorway and gave me a thumbs-up then closed the overhead behind her.
I guess my life is about to turn a new page. Who would have thought that after only five years with the sheriff’s department, a job that I loved, I’d move on to bigger and badder criminals?
I reached the city limit sign for Glendale, population 12,980. An upper-middle-class city, Glendale was a suburb of Milwaukee like many others that blended into one another to make the greater metro Milwaukee area.
I listened to the robot voice on my GPS tell me where to turn once I exited the freeway. I knew the building was close.
The voice spoke up. “You have reached your destination.”
“Thanks, robot lady.” I powered down my phone and double-checked the address. There wasn’t a sign in front of the building that stated it was the FBI’s Serial Homicide Division, but the address was correct. Maybe they preferred to remain incognito, or possibly the sign hadn’t been erected yet. I pulled into the driveway of the newer single-story tan brick building and circled around to the back. The parking lot consisted of twenty parking spaces, ten to my left and ten to my right. They weren’t assigned, so I grabbed a random spot and killed the engine. With my bag slung over my shoulder and the new-employee paperwork in my briefcase, I took a deep, cleansing breath, followed the sidewalk around to the front entrance, and pulled open the door that took me into the vestibule. A second set of glass doors lay ahead of me. I gave them a yank, and nothing happened. The jolt of vibrating glass alerted the two women sitting behind a reception counter. One of the women pointed at a keypad at my right. I nodded when I saw a green button beneath a speaker built into the wall. I pressed it. “I’m Jade Monroe reporting in for my first day of work.”
I watched as the same lady pressed a button to her left. The door catch released, and I crossed into the foyer of the sparkling new building. The wall ahead of me bore the FBI insignia in blue tile. I couldn’t help smiling as I approached the agents at the counter.
“Miss Monroe, welcome to the FBI’s Serial Homicide Division. Before anything else, I’ll need to see your ID to establish your identity, then we’ll create a pass card for you.”
“Of course.” I pulled my wallet out of my briefcase, thumbed the laminated card out of the plastic sleeve, and handed it to her. I had no idea what the ladies’ names were—they didn’t wear visible name tags. I was sure they both had a badge and probably a gun secured somewhere on their clothing.
“If you’d like to take a seat over there”—she pointed at a cluster of chairs that surrounded an oblong coffee table—“SSA Spelling will be out shortly to guide you through orientation. He’ll be your immediate supervisor. You’ll get your ID back later with your pass card.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.”
I took a seat on a tweed-patterned guest chair and twiddled my fingers as I waited. Oddly, I felt as I did in junior high school while I sat outside the principal’s office and pondered my impending fate. I stared out the window and wondered whether I had acted in haste. Was this really where I belonged?
“Agent Monroe?”
I looked up to see a nice looking gentleman, who seemed to be Dad’s age, staring down at me. I quickly stood, held out my hand, and gave him a firm handshake. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you as well. I’m Supervisory Special Agent Phil Spelling.”
I waited as he gave the paperwork in his hand another glance.
“What do you like to be called, Agent Monroe?”
“I guess it depends on how formal everyone is here. Normally, Jade works well for me.”
He grinned with perfectly straight white teeth. “Then Jade it is. And no, we aren’t formal here.”
I relaxed my shoulders and let out my breath slowly. “That’s good to know. I’m looking forward to fitting in.”
Agent Spelling walked me around the building. The ladies’ room was to my left down a long hallway. He mentioned there were lockers inside where I could stash my go bag. He suggested I keep one here and one at home, and he said I should be ready to leave at a moment’s notice no matter where I was. I excused myself, went inside, and tucked my bag in a locker. When I joined him back out in the hallway, we continued on. A nice-sized cafeteria with a wall of vending machines and a beverage counter was to my right, where the corridor ended. The rest of the doors were closed. He showed me the way to the exit door that led to the parking lot.
“Nobody uses the front door except the mailman. As soon as your pass card is ready, you’ll use that to get in the building right from the parking lot. It works the same as most hotel room card readers with the slot and a green or a red light. Inside the building, you’ll swipe your card in front of the bar code reader to gain entrance to any of those closed rooms. All of the pass cards are on elastic lanyards. Most of us wear them around our necks.”
“Got it.”
“Our forensic team and tech department are stationed in our downtown headquarters. This branch and building has only been open in Milwaukee for three months. All of the agents stationed here originally were at the downtown building. We run a tight ship and deal only with serial adult crimes and homicides in the Midwest and plains states. Other than the cases in Wisconsin, we focus on requests coming in from other state agencies. There are only a few specialized serial homicide units available to travel, so the FBI opened this regional branch to help lighten the load.”
“Understood.”
“Okay, before you meet your colleagues, let’s get your mug shot and prints taken care of for our files. Your paperwork says you’ve spent four years as a detective at the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department and were promoted to sergeant just last year.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“‘Boss’ will do just fine, Jade. The paperwork also says you’re highly recommended by SSA Dave Spencer.”
“That’s also correct, boss. He was instrumental in helping me skirt around time frame obstacles.”
We entered a small room where an agent waited to fingerprint me and take my mug shot.
Agent Spelling continued. “And you know Dave how?”
“I didn’t know him until recently, but he and my dad were close friends. Dave had a vacation home in San Bernardino, and they golfed together quite a bit when Dave was in the area. That’s until my dad’s knee starte
d acting up.” I smiled with the memories of my dad telling me how he’d whop Dave on the golf course every time they went out. I sighed deeply. “Anyway, they were good buddies. I spoke to Dave about the opportunity with the FBI when he came to my dad’s funeral. He arranged everything, pulled the right strings, and got me into the next training course.”
Agent Spelling paused as if he were thinking. “Wait a minute. Monroe, huh, from North Bend?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Your old man wasn’t Tom Monroe, was he?”
I grinned. “I’ll proudly confirm that, sir, and he was the best captain North Bend and San Bernardino County ever had.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be damned. It certainly is a small world. Your old man and I went to the police academy together. I heard about his death, and I wanted to attend the funeral, but we were in Oklahoma on a case. I’m truly sorry for your loss, Jade. Tom Monroe, huh? That man’s reputation preceded him wherever he went.”
I felt like crying, but I didn’t want my new boss to think I was unstable or, worse, off my rocker. I held it in and walked with my shoulders back and my head held a little higher.
“Ready to meet the team?”
“I’m more than ready, boss.”
Agent Spelling swiped the bar code on the back of his pass card across the reader on the wall, and we entered a large room with ten desks, each with its own computer. The far end of the room held a table that could seat twenty, likely for brainstorming, and a large map of the United States. The map, mounted to the wall behind the table, was covered with red pushpins.
“This is our situation room. We have other rooms that serve different purposes. I’ll show you them later. Guys, may I have your attention?”
The people in the room, which totaled four, stopped what they were doing and looked up.
“I’d like to introduce you to Jade Monroe. She recently finished her training in serial homicide studies and was recommended to our team by Dave Spencer.”
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