The Keres Case (Heartfelt Cases Book 4)

by Gilbert,Julie C.

  “She was black?”

  “Yes, Bahl believes at least one of the girl’s parents had to be of Black African descent,” Patrick confirmed.

  “How did she die?”

  “Her neck was broken,” Patrick reported, “but that’s not the weird part.”

  “What is?”

  “The body’s incredibly well-preserved, like no scavenger ever touched it. Even the neck was painstakingly reattached.”

  “What do you think that means?”

  “He probably cared for her,” Patrick answered. “It’s an angle to think about anyway. What about you? What did you find? Jon said you sent an email around with some discoveries. I haven’t had a chance to really check my email.”

  Ann brought her husband up to speed on the Keres lead. She finished by saying, “There are probably a thousand more cases to compare to threads on the website, but I think the links are strong enough to confirm that the Tyler case fits with the Dawson and Green cases. Our kidnapper is probably the same killer making a comeback. I’m just not sure where that leaves the investigation.”

  Should I tell him about the threats?

  She didn’t want Patrick to worry, but it would be foolish to keep information from arguably the best thinker on the team.

  “Maybe you should work from the past,” Patrick suggested. “Narrow the scope to only the Dawson and Green cases. The profiled age for the Dawson killer was twenty nine to thirty-nine, and the age of the Green killer was estimated at twenty-five to thirty-five. Given the three years between the cases, I’d say we’re better off on the younger end of those estimates.”

  “If he was thirty when he killed Gabriel Dawson, he’d be about thirty-six or thirty-seven now,” Ann mused, doing the math.

  “To be safe, let’s assume he’s somewhere between thirty-five and forty,” said Patrick. “Subtract twenty to twenty-five years for him to start his killing career as a teenager. The mistakes will be easier to find in his first or second murder. Check the persons of interest and suspects linked to unsolved cases in the target timeframe.”

  “Have I ever mentioned you’re a genius, love?” Ann’s mind clicked through other things to check on her database quest for the killer. “I’ll try to check a few more cases and plot them on the incident map. If I can create a reasonably thorough pattern, perhaps I’ll find a hole in it. Then, I can run the rest of the profile against prison records for whatever area he was last in. Maybe I’ll get lucky and come up with a name.”

  “It’s a fishing expedition, but maybe we can narrow it down a little more,” said Patrick.

  “How?”

  I’ll take any help I can get at this point, Ann thought.

  “Look into the murder or disappearance of teenage girls, especially those with African ancestry, who fit in the target timeframe,” said Patrick. “He probably went after somebody close to him, a sister or friend, maybe even a close friend. If the skeleton found in the wildlife refuge was his first kill, he might have left it for some symbolic reason. Check out any newspaper articles you find. He’s probably even quoted as saying how much he misses her.”

  “What makes you say that?” Ann knew Patrick was good at predicting things, but she always liked to hear his reasoning.

  “He probably didn’t have many friends, and young serial killers rarely start their careers with strangers. The first murder might have even been an accident,” Patrick explained. “Friend is probably the best bet because if he killed his sister his family would have said something.”

  “I’ll start my search there then.” Ann cleared her throat. “Oh, and the kidnapper left a cell phone here and talked to my mom and Joy.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but tension crept in.

  “What?” Patrick’s question exploded with uncharacteristic force. His tone demanded why she hadn’t told him that information right away.

  “I haven’t had a chance to really question them about what he said, but I spoke with him briefly,” Ann said, knowing she sounded defensive. “He delivered a short, sweet death threat if the Tyler case wasn’t dropped and confirmed that he had Malia. I warned him her father wouldn’t take kindly to her imprisonment, but I’m not sure if he believed me.”

  “Do you have your gun on?” Patrick asked, concerned.

  “I didn’t take it running, but now that I’m home, it’s close.” Ann made a mental note to retrieve her gun as soon as possible.

  Shower. Dress. Arm. Eat. Call Rachel.

  “Don’t go anywhere without it,” Patrick cautioned.

  “I won’t,” Ann promised. She technically only had to carry it during working hours, but this case wasn’t exactly conducive to normal workday hours.

  “I can be there in twenty-five minutes,” said Patrick.

  “And do what exactly?” Ann asked, amused. She found his concern touching, but worry tended to make him silly. “You should come over to see Joey and Amanda, but if you’re coming to watch me work, don’t bother. I’ll be fine. It only takes one person to babysit the computer while it does its thing.”

  “You’re right,” Patrick admitted. “I have some things to do around here anyway.”

  “Like what?”

  “The evidence people should be finishing with the house on Maple Drive soon, and I have to check in with Baker. He’s talking to the Kyte family. Their boys went missing earlier today.”

  The news surprised Ann, but not like it would have before the Tyler case.

  “Not again,” she murmured. “Same guy?”

  “Most likely, but we won’t know until this is over. Let me know if you need any help.”

  “Will do.”

  “And try not to worry.”

  “Roger that,” Ann said, though this time her tone said: fat chance.

  “I’ve conscripted some help for the Parkers,” Patrick said, hearing her worry. “I’m also considering heading down there myself. What do you think?”

  Ann pondered the situation.

  “Do you honestly believe he’ll go after Rachel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go.”

  They chatted a little longer, trading theories and wild speculations, both reluctant to say goodbye. The smell of dinner—a whole turkey to be precise—reminded Ann that she had things to do before the evening meal. She closed the conversation with her husband and hit the speed dial button for Rachel Parker.

  “Hello, Ann,” Rachel’s weary voice greeted. “This is some vacation you’ve arranged.” She meant it lightly, but the strain of the threat weighed her voice down.

  “Jon told you about the bracelet?”

  “Just now; well, twenty minutes ago,” said Rachel. “I thought he’d lock me in the closet and barricade the door.”

  “How’d you talk him out of that?” Ann asked.

  “I might have only delayed it. He was about to drive me crazy, so I sent him to the store with the boys to stock the refrigerator with breakfast supplies.”

  “He left you alone?” Ann wasn’t sure whether to be amused or horrified.

  “If by ‘alone’ you mean in a crowded restaurant under strict orders not to leave the presence of people, then yes.”

  Now that Rachel had said something, Ann heard voices in the background.

  “Why do I hear you so clearly?”

  “Caitlyn and I are camping in the alcove by the restrooms,” said Rachel. “Don’t worry, I can still see people and they can see me.”

  “How are you?” Ann meant a whole lot more by that question than a welfare check.

  “Tired.”

  “You know what I mean,” Ann said.

  “You mean, how am I taking the news that a psychopath was in my house long enough to steal something personal and use it to threaten my friends?” Rachel’s pitch rose as the question went on. “Not well.”

  “I’m so—”

  “I’m scared,” Rachel declared, interrupting Ann’s absurd apology. A tremble in her voice confirmed the fear. “And I’m tired of thinking abo
ut what this man could do to me or my family. He’s killed people, Ann. Right now he’s using scare tactics, but what happens when he gets bored with that?”

  Lord, comfort Rachel. I have nothing to say that will take her fear away. Give me the right words to say.

  Ann heard Caitlyn babbling. Rachel must have picked the baby up.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ann admitted, kicking herself for voicing the inadequacy.

  Great lot of comfort that’s going to be.

  “Catch this guy, Ann,” Rachel ordered.

  Ann couldn’t decide to root for Weary Rachel or Angry Rachel. Neither were good representations of her friend.

  “Lord willing, we will. Jon’s website lead has given me others to follow. I wish I could be there with you.” Her mind reeled with the sudden conversation shift. She’d meant to reiterate her promise to catch the man threatening her friend.

  “I do too,” Rachel said. “You always were a world-class hugger.”

  Ann laughed at that.

  “I’ll save you a good one for when you get back and tell me about your exciting, restful, uneventful vacation.”

  “Optimist.” Rachel fired the word like an accusation.

  “Patrick’s sending help. When they get there, try to relax. Please.”

  “I don’t think I’ll relax until you get this guy, but I’ll try.”

  “Good girl,” Ann said. “Say ‘hi’ to Jon and the boys and kiss Caitlyn for me.”

  “I will if you reciprocate with your crew,” Rachel responded.

  “Deal.” Ann let a few seconds of silence linger before continuing, “Seriously, Rach, stay safe. Leave the bad guys for Patrick, Baker, and me.”

  “They’re all yours. Let me know how the hunt goes, especially if it’s safe to venture forth alone again.”

  Soon, Rachel. Hopefully, very soon.

  Ann’s mother informed her that dinner would be ready in five minutes, so she bid Rachel goodbye and hurried to grab a quick shower.

  Chapter 25:

  Strange Child

  Ryker’s Base of Operations

  Elk County, Pennsylvania

  As soon as the man had awakened Malia, Nadia summed up the situation so she could compose herself. It had not been easy to control Ryker’s emotions. His initial rage had locked reason away so thoroughly, that Malia could do absolutely nothing but endure the onslaught. The only good thing about anger like that was its tendency to blow itself out quickly.

  Ryker had started while the drugs still gripped most of Malia’s consciousness, but the pain had a mind-clearing effect. By the time his initial attack subsided, she really had been knocked out cold. Malia didn’t know if Nadia had helped with that or not, but she was grateful for it despite the fact that she woke up in a worse position than before. Her hands and feet had been taped together and a thick metal chain wrapped around her waist attaching her to something solid, most likely the back wall.

  As soon as he had realized she was awake, Ryker rained blows upon her. She had reflexively curled into a ball, but it didn’t help much. That’s when he had kicked at her arm and likely would have broken it if she hadn’t jerked it aside. Even so, the glancing blow hurt plenty. Ryker’s palm drove Malia’s head hard against the floor.

  Go limp, Nadia had instructed.

  Used to following Nadia’s suggestions, Malia willed her body not to react.

  Eyes closed in feigned unconsciousness, Malia took stock of her body. Her left arm ached. Her ears rang and her lips bled. She knew bruises would form at numerous places along her arms and legs. Aside from that hard knock against the floor and a few open-palmed head blows, Ryker avoided her head and core. That told her that she was not the first person he’d ever beaten and he had no intention of killing her.

  With Nadia’s help, Malia used her Gifts. Part of her fought to convert Ryker’s anger into numbing confusion while the rest dealt with the pain he had already inflicted. She didn’t react when he removed the chain, cut the tape binding her arms and legs and transferred her to a medical gurney. His rough hands strapped her limbs in place. When he cruelly squeezed her injured arm, her eyes flew open, and she worked hard to swallow the cry. Tears blurred her vision.

  “What are you?” demanded the man, obviously not used to victims who refused to scream.

  He spoke with Father, but he knows nothing about us, Nadia clarified. This is a clumsy interrogation. Tell him what you want, but Father prefers to stay anonymous. Ryker’s anger has abated much. Well done. Stay strong. I will be here with you. The thoughts came through in an instant in the purest form of comfort, a flash of unconditional love.

  “I am a child, though not an ordinary one,” Malia answered after a long pause.

  “Who is your father? How does he know about me?”

  Ah, that is the real question, Nadia thought. He knows about me only in the vaguest terms. Shall I appear to him?

  No! I can do this, Malia answered silently.

  Aloud, she said, “My father is a scientist. He has given each of his children special abilities. I have a sister who can discover almost anything.”

  “How?” The man scowled. He released her injured arm, stalked around to the gurney’s other side, and drew a hunting knife from his belt sheath.

  “I don’t know,” Malia replied. “I’m not sure she knows.”

  The man stared at her, deciding whether or not she spoke truth.

  “What is your special ability?”

  Do not answer that! Nadia shouted within Malia’s mind.

  Malia had to answer something, but she knew that the whole truth would be dangerous. So, she settled on a half-truth.

  “Pain suppression.”

  A disturbing glint entered the man’s dark eyes. The look said: Prove it. He jammed the knife into Malia’s good arm.

  Having only a second to prepare, Malia trembled with the effort to absorb the pain, changing her own emotions from panic to numbness. Gritting her teeth, she blinked to fight the tears and glared at Ryker. Simultaneously, she reached out and encouraged his sense of satisfaction.

  He yanked out the blade, undid the strap, and got some gauze to wrap around the wound.

  Pain suppression? Nadia sounded surprised; that was a rarity. Of all your Gifts, Malia, could you not conjure a harmless one?

  I took a chance, Malia replied.

  I really must teach you how to lie.

  ***

  After the girl had proven her ability, Ryker lost the will interrogate her. Usually, something like that would enflame his curiosity, but too many questions surrounded the child.

  Can I make this profitable?

  Perhaps the girl wasn’t being completely honest. Perhaps she had other gifts too. She had proven she could ignore pain herself, but could she transfer the skill? That could be useful.

  How will the girl’s father react to the interrogation?

  The easiest solution would be to return the girl to the Davidson family, but that would be an admission of defeat. Ryker hated losing. He pondered the problem throughout a simple meal of frozen lasagna but came up with nothing. In the end, he decided to continue holding the child. Even if he had no intention of killing her, the Davidson family, including Annie, knew nothing of the ultimatum from the girl’s father. Therefore, the child could still be useful in drawing the feddies into a trap. Ryker had more interesting plans in place, but only fools went without backup plans.

  It must be done soon.

  Ryker had suspected his plans might need acceleration, but the situation with the girl made it certain. He made half a dozen phone calls to confirm that his people were ready to move. Some of his help needed specific instructions and additional encouragement. Few sounded pleased about the change, but they would obey him.

  Once finished confirming the plans, Ryker decided to visit the newest acquisitions and his favorite old one. He expected the new children to be temporary residents, but if it better suited him later, he could always sell them. A twinge of sadness to
uched him when he thought about letting Karen go, but the ransom had been fairly raised and the deal would better serve him by being honored.

  Donning a bandana, Ryker made his way to the holding cells. After a thorough cleaning to remove traces of Dara’s sacrifice, Reuben and Pierce had put the boys in Karen’s old cell. Upon awakening from the sleeping draught Dara had slipped her, she too had been returned to that cell.

  “Hello, boys,” he greeted. “Karen,” he added with a cordial nod.

  Although identical in features, it wasn’t hard to distinguish the twins by their demeanor. The bold one gripped the bars like a desperate prisoner unjustly detained. The timid one huddled in Karen’s arms on the floor. Wayne had said one fought like a wildcat and the other went quietly. The only other cell occupant, Dr. Surhan, lay unconscious on the cot.

  “Let us out of here!” shouted one of the twins.

  “You must be Peter. My name is Ryker. I see you have met Karen.”

  The bold child glowered at him.

  “Well, have your say, boy.”

  The child glanced back at Karen who shook her head.

  “She said we shouldn’t talk to you,” said the other twin.

  “Karen, I’m hurt,” said Ryker. “I’ve come all this way to tell you good news.”

  “Reuben told me I’m going home,” she said without inflection.

  “Doesn’t that please you?”

  Instead of answering, she asked, “Where’s Dara? Why are these boys here?”

  “They’re not your concern. You’re sweet, but you can’t help them,” said Ryker, sensing the direction of her thoughts. “Don’t worry about the boys, they won’t be here long. In fact, I plan to have them home by tomorrow.”

  “Why take them in the first place?” asked Karen, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She tightened her hold on the timid boy. “Why put their parents through that?”

  “My dad is going to kill you!” shouted the brave twin.

  In an instant, Ryker pulled out his hunting knife and slammed it against the cell bars above the boy’s head. The child fell backward with a cry, landing hard and scrambling as far from Ryker as possible.