He grinned. “No worries. I think what you do is fascinating,” Kane didn’t want to make her bolt. Already he could tell she was back peddling.
“What I think you wanted to say was gross.”
He started laughing. “Yeah, it was. Am I that transparent?” When he noticed her contemplating that question with really pretty green eyes, he laughed more. “That was rhetorical.”
“Oh,” she said, face flushing with heat. Christina was a lab nerd, and men like this never hit on her before. Some would try and talk to her, and once they realized she was socially inept under some pretty wrappings, they took off fast.
Kane leaned back in his chair. Something about her was charming, and that was saying a great deal. It was no secret that he wasn’t big on outsiders, but then again he’d never met a woman that could handle a full piece of human skin and not be sick over it. She was smart, pretty and interesting. All three of those things drew his attention.
“Okay, I have to ask. You look freaked out. Is it me making you this nervous?” he inquired.
Christina started laughing and couldn’t stop. Was it him? Uh yeah it was. A sexy man had just shorted out the logic part of her brain. “I’m a disaster with the opposite sex,” she admitted, and then wondered how the words escaped so easily. “Like I just did now. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “I’m horrible with outsiders,” he offered, to make her feel better. Damn it, she was absolutely adorable.
She changed the subject, feeling incredibly overheated. “Are you working late?”
“I’m officially off duty,” he admitted. “When do you get off?”
Again she flushed, because she wasn’t exactly thinking about work when he said that. “As soon as I analyze a chemical on the feather and finish with the,” she paused, not wanting to gross him out before he tried to eat. “I mean the sample.”
“Maybe we can get a beer tonight?”
She stared at him and didn’t know what to say. “I uh, I don’t know.”
Kane was charmed. “How about we finish up here, and then we worry about the beer later. I don’t want you to freak out and bolt.” Why he offered up that much information was befuddling to even him. He generally had confidence with women… mostly.
Christina always had this fantasy that some sexy, black haired Native would be flirting with her, but now that it was happening she was baffled. “Do you know anything about ammonia and its molecular structure? I’m trying to isolate a specific isotope to determine commonality and possible brand.”
He shook his head, not quite sure what she’d just said. When there was a knock on the door, he shifted focus. “Hey Thomas, you’re working late,” he said to the janitor.
“I split my shift today. I had to take my dad to the doctor. This is the last room I have to collect trash from, and then I can go home again.”
Christina stood, carrying him the waste paper basket. “Here you go.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks, but I would have gotten it.”
“I don’t mind. I did plow into you and knock you over,” she answered smiling. “It’s the least I can do.”
Kane watched the interaction and wasn’t happy. “Thanks Thomas. You have a good night.” He dismissed the man to get back on track with his plan. He didn't want outside interference.
Thomas nodded, whistling on his way out of the room.
“I’m ready to help,” he said, moving his chair closer. “Teach me all about ammonia and isolated isotopes.”
That she could do with her eyes closed. “Okay.”
* * *
Elizabeth stood at the whiteboard while they all passed the files around. Both kids had been placed in their pack and plays in one of the spare rooms, the pizza had been consumed, and it was now time to get down to business.
“Okay, we have seven victims that had feathers placed by or on them. The first three happened twenty five years ago, and then nothing. Now we have a killer that started back up again, the biggest hurdle we’re faced with is if it’s the same individual or a copycat.”
Ethan walked to the board and stared at the victim’s names. It was time for him to give his profile. “I think we need to first look at it as a whole and then break it apart. Most likely it’s going to give us the answer we need. Logically the truth will stick out from the confusion.”
“What do we know about our killer?” asked Elizabeth, ready to fill in the details.
“We don’t know ethnicity. We have a single blood drop found by Julian on a leaf. It could have been a hunter with a bloody nose for all we know,” he stated. “We can look at the victims and try to ascertain more from that. The victims were a mix. Generally a serial killer will hunt a specific victim. Rarely do they cross ethnicity. I’m not saying it can’t happen, but we’re not talking prostitutes and hookers. We’re talking about citizens he’s picking for a rational reason in his mind. I don’t think we can accurately tag our killer with what we have.”
“How old is the perpetrator?” Callen asked.
Blackhawk thought about it. “First let’s look at the one killer scenario. If we have one solitary killer, than he’s going to be up there in age. If he was twenty five when he started killing, he’s at least fifty now. The evidence isn’t pointing to an older man, but then again, I can’t say it’s not possible. There are degrees of strength and some mature men have it.”
Callen stood, staring over at his father who was working on carving something off in the corner. “Dad, come here.” He proceeded to lie on the floor.
Wyler stood over him and laughed. “Yeah?”
Elizabeth got it. “You’re in really good shape, Dad. Drag your son across the floor and try to get his body up on that couch,” she said, pointing at the furniture.
“If you say so,” he answered, looping his arms under his son’s and dragging him across the floor ten feet. He had to put him down and take a break.
Callen stayed limp, becoming dead weight. “Having a hard time?”
Wyler grinned. “You shouldn’t have had that last piece of pizza,” he answered, trying to lift his son the two feet off the floor. “Doable, but really hard,” he said, breathing heavy. “I am nearly sixty.”
When his father finished the task, Callen went back to the floor, taking his original spot. “Okay, so we proved an older person who is in really good shape could conceivably pull it off. Now let’s check the scenario for a younger person.”
Elizabeth pointed at Julian. “Can you do what Wyler just did?”
He went to the man and mimicked the same hold on Callen. While Wyler was bigger in stature, Julian had age and strength on his side. He easily dragged him to the couch and barely struggled when lifting his dead weight onto the couch.
“I agree with your father on the pizza,” Julian added, snickering.
“Funny. You’re both hysterical.” Callen was back up on his feet. “We proved they both could pull it off.”
“Yeah, but we also know from the front of James Duffy’s head that height wise it was a smaller man. I doubt a man at dad’s age and Julian’s height could pull it off. Dad was able to use his body as leverage to lift you.”
“So we know it’s a younger, shorter killer?” Rick Longtree asked.
“I think we have two scenarios going on here at the same time. Not only do we have the shorter man versus the older man, but we also have the simple fact the killer stopped his spree for twenty five years.”
“That’s rare in the serial killer world,” added Elizabeth.
Blackhawk nodded. “I really believe we have two murderers and the crimes shouldn’t be looked at together, but broken apart as separate entities.”
Elizabeth sat on the arm of the couch beside Callen. “I had Maggie run the search for us and there aren’t any other local cases where the killer leaves a white feather as his calling card.” Maggie, their boss’s administrative assistant was known for two things. She could track down a flea o
n a dog in a pack of hounds and could make a grown man blush with her winks.
“A serial killer keyed into something like a white feather as his signature isn’t going to deviate to a different method, and then come back again. He’s going to carry through and keep it going. This is my big indicator that we have two different men doing the crimes. There are a few small details that differentiate the two possible killers.”
Callen got this one. “The fake feathers.”
“Yep. The killer wouldn’t start with one kind of feather and then switch it up. That’s his calling card and that means he’s going to carry through and nail that detail every time,” Blackhawk stated, unequivocally.
“If it matters,” started Julian, “I think that we have two killers too. When someone was shooting at us in the woods, I tried to chase him down. I’m pretty sure I could catch a fifty plus year old man.”
Wyler laughed from his seat. “Don’t bet in it, son. I’m a hunter and if I was going to shoot at you, you wouldn’t be able to chase me.”
Elizabeth laughed. “No offense but I’ve been in the woods with him. My money’s on Wyler. He’s stealthy.”
Julian grinned. “You may be the exception to the rule. Most sixty year olds can’t out run me. The person that was shooting was a bad shot, but he was quick. That just feels like a younger person to me.”
Blackhawk had more to add. “The fact he stalked you patiently through the woods while you’re on horseback shows us that he’s a follower. The man is definitely watching and observing. We know that he had to be following James Duffy. He knew his habits and was studying his subject.”
Elizabeth agreed. “The killer knew where to find Boyd too. He had to have followed him or known him personally. Either way he studied his prey.”
Callen flipped through his notes. “He knew where Jeffrey Hopper went to get his truffles. We have his book of GPS locations. There were quite a few.”
“Ten,” added Elizabeth. “That’s too many to just randomly happen on the man in the spur of the moment and to take his life.”
“Agreed,” said Blackhawk. “I know that no one wants to toss this out there, but does that sound like any stories commonly told on the Rez to little kids?”
Wyler answered from his seat. “Sounds like a skinwalker to me. They hunt, stalk and then wear the skin animals to gain their spirit.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Not you now too, Dad!”
He simply laughed and winked at her. “I’m old school, Sweetheart, and I grew up with Timothy’s stories. I don’t overlook anything. When you sit out in the hunting grounds all night in the dark, you hear and see things.”
Ethan didn’t discount anything either. Not because he believed it existed, but he understood someone that was crazy could rationalize it easily. “Let’s look at some of the symbolism for these killings. Mutilation isn’t rare in serial killings. Look at some of the assignments we handled. Last time we were here, Duffy’s brother was dressing like a woman and defacing bodies.”
“He was a complete nut bag,” muttered Elizabeth.
“My point is, in his mind, Randy believed he was Susan and a woman. All I’m saying is that the person killing and leaving the feathers may also be a few bricks short of building.” Blackhawk stuck the pen behind his ear. “To him, he may believe he’s a skinwalker and this seems normal to him, with it escalating from animal pelts to human skin.”
“Total wackadoos,” Elizabeth replied. “His building is missing a few walls and a roof too.”
“If you look all around the world, skinning a victim is rare mutilation. In the mind of the killer there’s a reason why he’s doing it. If I were going to analyze it, I’d go with the metaphorical. He’s pulling the outer layer back to reveal what’s beneath the part we see.”
Julian thought about that. “Are you saying he’s trying to tell us something?”
He nodded. “Our skin hides what’s beneath, and he’s baring the truth we haven’t seen until now.”
Elizabeth stared at her husband. “I don’t know if I should be impressed with that, or scared that one of the men I love is on the crazy train with the killer.”
Blackhawk laughed. “Anyway, then you have part two, which is even more symbolic and telling.”
“Next station, Nutsville, with a population of unknown,” she said, winking at her husband.
He ignored her and continued. “He actually hung up the skins like they were freshly laundered linens.”
Everyone stared at him.
“Okay, he’s cleaning up. The laundry-esque scene was meant to tell us that there’s been something revealed and hung out to dry.”
“You’re brilliant!” stated Tori.
Elizabeth smacked herself on the forehead. “Come on! Don’t tell him that! He’ll get an ego!” There was no doubt in her mind why he was the standard of excellence in profiling. Elizabeth may bust him, but she was damn proud.
Blackhawk laughed. “I manage to figure things out, and let’s leave it at that.” He winked at his wife.
She grinned wickedly and mouthed back ‘so very hot!’
“Anyway,” Ethan continued feeling a flush creep up his neck. “I’m going to state that the killer feels that he’s cleaning up a mess. We need to look at the first three deaths in order to solve the last four.”
“You think it had something to do with the council, don’t you,” stated Julian. “My dad was killed to eliminate him from the winning that seat.”
Elizabeth nodded. Once she’d heard that the other two victims were all tied together, it made her believe it was the avenue they needed to pursue. “I think it could be related.”
“I lost my dad over a job?”
Tori gently stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jules,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”
He stared down at their joined hands, overwhelming sadness filled him at what had been taken from him and why. It seemed so senseless.
“I need a list of the families that were left behind by the killing of Blake Littlemoon, Harold Runningbear, and Kevin Clark. We might have a family member that has a grudge and is trying to get us to open up the cases.”
“Why not just ask?” Rick Longtree inquired. “I would have opened them up if someone came to me. It was before my time, but I would have done the research and worked on it.”
Blackhawk shook his head. “You’re looking at an individual that feels like he’s righting the wrongs. He started focusing on this and moved on to other things. The farmer dumping waste onto Rez land, a man that was stealing truffles for profit, and then you have Boyd and Duffy.”
“If that’s the logic we’re following,” paused Tori, “what were their sins?”
Elizabeth thought about it. “I think I can help with that. I’m not a genius like Ethan, but I do know my way around a crackpot.”
Whitefox snickered. “I hope that wasn’t a personal reference.”
She simply snickered. “The last two are connected. William Boyd was out poaching and drew the attention to the Rez. The killer was already taking care of business here, cleaning up the mess and the stolen animals put it all on the radar. Boyd caused the attention to be refocused on what was going down.”
“And Duffy?” inquired Julian.
Elizabeth glanced over at Callen. “Darlin’ who called in the FBI to mediate? Was it the council or the sheriff?”
Callen thought about it. “Jimmy called Quantico and demanded help. Gabriel Rothschild called Ethan, requesting I handle it.”
She crossed her arms. “There’s your answer. Duffy called in the FBI, and we’re putting the pressure on the killer.”
Neither man liked where this was heading.
“If that’s the case, we’re all in the killer’s crosshairs.” Julian said, dropping his arm around Tori’s shoulders protectively.
“Uh, newsflash Julian. He’s yet to kill a woman. You, Ethan and Callen are the more likely victims,” added Elizabeth.
The three men stared at
each other, each glad that their women were safe. The men would risk their lives, but not Elizabeth’s or Tori’s.
“Wow, I didn't see all this coming,” stated Tori, squeezing Julian’s hand in fear.
Blackhawk would like to say he was surprised, but he was well aware and had been since he started working on the profile.
Something ugly was brewing, and it was only a matter of time.
~ Chapter Seventeen ~
He sat outside the house that the FBI was calling their base, watching as the man entered. He drove up with files from his office to assist them in finding the killer. Rick Longtree was supporting the outsiders in hunting for him.
It had to be stopped.
This was inacceptable.
While he wanted the truth to come out about the past killings, and he wanted justice served, this wasn’t in his plan. He was there to balance the scales of justice for his people- without interference.
Rick Longtree was betraying them by just being there. There was a tiny twinge of guilt as he thought about removing the man’s skin and taking his life. After all, he was serving the community with his skills. He was a good leader and deserved his respect.
Yet, he had to end it.
It had to be done.
There was one way to absolve himself of the guilt. He’d allow the man to have a hint of what was to come, and maybe he’d be able to evade and stay one step ahead of him.
Maybe, but it was highly unlikely.
Sneaking to the man’s truck, he carefully tucked the feather under the windshield wiper in just the right spot. Then like the great skinwalkers, he slipped back into the darkness unobserved.
It was almost time, and as he rushed away he never noticed the gust of wind or the feather floating away to find a new home.
So much for a warning…
* * *
It had been a very long day at council. Everyone was stirred up and in a tizzy by the events. Half the members wanted to kick the FBI out, the other half needed them to stay and clear the native community of any wrong doing.
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