Profile of Terror: Book Two of Profile Series

by Alexa Grace

  What if he was too late? What if the killers had already abducted Kaitlyn? Leaving city limits, he floored the accelerator and passed slower moving vehicles until he reached the road that led to Kaitlyn's house. Skidding to a stop in her gravel driveway, he slammed the gear to park, and jumped out of the car. Pounding frantically on her front door, he got no response, so he raced to the garage and saw that her car was gone. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. Did the Gamers already have Kaitlyn? Was he too late?

  Calling her on her cell phone, he got no answer. Then it hit him. Kaitlyn was a teacher. It was after eight o'clock by that point, so maybe she was in class. She had to be. He got back into his truck and headed back to town. Once he reached Morel Elementary, he drove to the teacher's parking area and spotted her VW in the third row. Thank God.

  A wave of gratitude washed over him as he pulled out his cell phone. Sending a text to Kaitlyn, he told her he needed to talk to her. Seconds later, she returned his text with: "In class now. Meet me at my house this evening with a large veggie pizza with extra cheese, and we can talk all you want."

  When was the last time he felt so close to a female in such a short time, and so terrified he might lose her? Never.

  <><><>

  Gabe's truck was immediately stopped by a young deputy as he pulled up to the Morel Hotel.

  "I'm sorry, sir. I'm going to have to ask you to turn your vehicle around and leave. This is a crime scene," said the deputy in as stern a voice as he could muster.

  "I'm Gabe Chase—"

  "I don't care who you are," he interrupted. "Turn your truck around."

  Gabe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a badge that he flashed before the deputy's eyes. It was a replica of his mother's badge. Years before at her funeral, the new county sheriff gave one to each of her sons. Brody and Cameron wore theirs on their belt buckles. Gabe always had his mom's badge in his back pocket. Luckily, the deputy hadn't taken a closer look.

  "Sorry, sir. Park your truck over there. The crime scene is on the veranda."

  As Gabe approached the building, he spotted Brody and Cameron at the far end of the veranda with Deputy Gail Sawyer. Joining them, he bent down to examine the body under a small blanket and wondered how a human being could get a thrill out of destroying another. Beneath a plastic bag, Destiny Cooke's eyes bulged, her mouth formed a silent scream, and her facial features were frozen in terror. A dark rage bubbled through his veins. Like Abby, Destiny's life was just beginning when monsters smothered her, leaving nothing behind but pain for her loved ones. He felt a hand pull at his arm and looked up to see Brody.

  "C'mon, Gabe. You shouldn't be here."

  Taking a cleansing breath to calm himself, Gabe said, "Did Cam tell you about the email? Kaitlyn is next on their list, and I have to move her to a safe place."

  "All of the safe houses are full. Why don't you move her into our main house? In addition to the ones you and Cam have, there are four more suites."

  "You're right. I just hope I can convince her to leave her house."

  Brody frowned thoughtfully and said, "You do realize, if she is their next target, they're stalking her."

  "I know. That's what I'm afraid of."

  "She's a teacher at Morel Elementary, right?"

  "Yes, and if she insists on working, I'll take her to and from school."

  "The killers can probably recognize both your cars. Take one of the drug-seized vehicles parked in the helicopter hangar. There are a couple with tinted windows."

  "Thanks, Brody."

  "Talk to Carly. She's worked undercover and may have some ideas on how to disguise Kaitlyn. Carly can make it as difficult as possible for the Gamers to identify her."

  Their attention was diverted to the coroner's van, which had just driven through the yard and parked close to where they were standing.

  Bryan Pittman and a couple of crime scene techs bounded from the vehicle and joined Cameron and Deputy Sawyer on the veranda. They'd moved closer to the victim near Brody and Gabe.

  "Who the fuck covered the body with a blanket?" Bryan bellowed the second he saw the victim. Instantly angry, a small vein near his left eye bulged as his face grew red.

  "I did, sir." Deputy Sawyer admitted, a little stunned by his rage.

  "No, shit?" Bryan said, and then added, "I could have sworn you were at the training session I gave for deputies and firemen a couple of months ago."

  "Yes, sir. I was there."

  "Then you must have forgotten my first rule of what not to do at a crime scene!"

  Glancing at Brody and Cameron, Gail said, "I was just preserving the dignity of this young lady. No one deserves to be staged naked in a public place."

  "She's dead, Deputy. Dignity is not her most important issue now," Bryan said. "Do you remember the part of the training when I discussed how covering bodies transfers material, contaminants, and other forensic evidence from one part of the crime scene to another?"

  "I do now, sir," Gail responded, as embarrassment flooded through her.

  Brody broke in. "Deputy Sawyer, why don't you assist Deputy Wilson? Make sure no one who shouldn't be here gets inside the grounds."

  Once she reached the road, Brody turned to the coroner. "Hey, Bryan. Could you have said all that a little louder? I don't think the folks on Main Street heard you."

  "I can't count how many times I've told your deputies not to cover the victim with a blanket," said Bryan, still frustrated. "Move over. I can't see the victim."

  Brody moved aside and Bryan crept closer to the body. "She's posed like Abby Reece's body, and has the plastic bag over her head, too. Looks like Abby's killers have struck again."

  To the crime scene technician taking photographs of the crime scene, he said, "Get a close-up of that gold necklace she's wearing."

  Cameron said, "I noticed that necklace, too. It's an old-fashioned locket like Mom used to have. Those things open, and usually there's a photo of a loved one inside. I knew Destiny Cooke, and I don't see her wearing something like that."

  Bryan examined her arms. "There are no defensive injuries, which suggest she was restrained, probably by the same type of duct tape we see on her now. If we get lucky and the killers didn't wear gloves, we might lift a print from the duct tape. I've got a tech who's a genius at lifting prints with super-glue."

  "How fast can you make an official identification?" Cameron asked.

  "I'll call you. I've got her dental records, so it won't take long."

  <><><>

  Just before dark, Gabe pulled into Kaitlyn's driveway, turned off the ignition, and sat in his truck assessing the house and surrounding area for places where intruders could hide.

  Kaitlyn's house was a one-level renovated farmhouse, painted a pale yellow with white shutters and trim. A porch ran the front of the house, and two white rocking chairs with fluffy, floral cushions sat on the porch. There was a bright floral wreath on the front door. The home looked like something out of one of his mom's old Country Living magazines, with all the feminine touches that suited Kaitlyn.

  Next to the house was a relatively new two-car garage. A dense wooded area lay to the right of the property and behind it. To the left was a corn field that went on for as far as he could see. The closest neighbor was at least a mile or two away. The place failed miserably for security. Intruders had multiple options to enter and hide on the property.

  Gabe needed to quickly move Kaitlyn into a suite at their main house before it was too late. How hard would Kaitlyn, who could be stubborn as hell, fight him to stay in her own home? Any place would be safer than this one.

  Getting out of his truck, he balanced the large pizza on the palm of one hand, and carried a bottle of wine in the other. Kaitlyn met him at the door with a radiant smile, making him wish he was not here to tell her there had been another murder and she was next on the killer's list.

  Inside, he noticed lit candles on her dining table, along with china, silverware, and wine glasses. It was set
up for romance, and his conversation would be anything but.

  Kaitlyn wore a snug, silk tee that accentuated her round breasts, in the exact shade of ocean blue to match her eyes, along with a worn pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin. Kaitlyn had a body that pushed all his buttons in a very big way. He wanted to pull her hard against him and kiss her all the way to her bedroom, then make love to her for hours.

  Instead, Gabe handed the pizza to Kaitlyn, who placed it on the table. At the kitchen counter, he popped the wine bottle and she wound her arms around his waist as she kissed him. A spike of heat caught him low in the gut, and if he didn't get some control, he'd take her right in her kitchen.

  Gabe led her to the dining room. "Are you hungry? I'm starving." He poured their wine and pulled out a chair near him for Kaitlyn.

  Suddenly a small dot of red light appeared on the wall next to them.

  "What is that?" asked Kaitlyn.

  Recognizing it as the laser light from a gun, Gabe grabbed Kaitlyn out of her chair and hit the floor, landing on top of her.

  "Ouch!" She squealed. "Okay, I get it. You're into rough sex. But you're killing my back. Besides that, I'm famished. Can't we have pizza first?"

  Gabe shifted, balancing his weight on his elbows, placed his hand over her mouth, and whispered, "Kaitlyn, that red light is from a laser mounted onto a gun. Someone is outside."

  "Oh, c'mon. You can think of a better reason to jump me than that."

  Shots rang out, shattering the window, as well as the china and wine glasses on the table, shooting splintered glass projectiles throughout the room and cutting Gabe's back.

  Now terrified, Kaitlyn tightened her arms around Gabe, clamping down like a vise grip, as her heart hammered against her chest.

  "Damn it!" Gabe cursed. "I left my gun in the glove box in my truck."

  "Gun? I've got guns!" Kaitlyn pushed at him. "Get off me. They're in my bedroom closet."

  Looking down at her, Gabe shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

  "As much as I'm turned on by your buff, sexy body pressing against mine, if you could please roll off of me, I'll get my guns."

  "Oh, hell no. You're not going anywhere. I'm a private investigator. I think I can find your closet. Wait here and don't move until I get back."

  The shots continued as Gabe army-crawled on his belly to her bedroom. Inside her closet, he found a loaded shotgun propped upright in a corner, and a loaded handgun on a shelf.

  He returned to Kaitlyn and gave her the handgun. "I assume you know how to use this. Stay here while I circle the house to find out where the shooter is."

  Climbing out a back window, Gabe pressed himself against a tree as he eyeballed the woods in back for any signs of activity. Finding none, he moved to the side of the house that faced a thicket of trees. Headlights flashed on just beyond the trees, and a motor roared as the vehicle headed toward the road. Gabe raced to the road and reached it just in time to see the tail-lights of a van speeding toward town.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he called Cameron to send backup, and for crime scene technicians to search for spent casings from what he guessed to be a semi-automatic rifle used by the assailants.

  Back inside the house, a terrified Kaitlyn flew into his arms. "You're safe now, Kaitlyn. They're gone. But we have to talk."

  Leading her to the sofa, he made her sit down, then he sat beside her, holding her hand. "Something's happened that you need to know about. Abby's killers have claimed another victim — Destiny Cooke."

  "Oh, no. I saw the media coverage of her disappearance and prayed she'd be found safe. Her poor family."

  Gabe took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Just like before, the killers emailed me." He handed it to Kaitlyn to read.

  Once she reached the end of the note, she looked up at him. "I'm next, aren't I?"

  "Not if I have anything to do with it," Gabe began. "I want to move you to a safer place. I think it was the killers who shot up your house."

  "But where can I go?"

  "Move into our main house. The house is divided into suites because my parents thought they'd turn it into a bed and breakfast or lodge someday. Cam and I live in two of the suites. There are four left for you to choose from. Brody's made sure the house and property security is top notch. You'll be safe there."

  Kaitlyn headed for her bedroom.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm packing. You don't think I'm going to fight you to stay here by myself, do you?"

  Gabe was vigilant about watching the wooded area, where he saw the vehicle headlights from her front porch. After a while, he stepped back inside. Listening to Kaitlyn packing her things in her bedroom, he walked around her living room.

  "Hey, Kaitlyn. Are you almost ready?"

  "Not yet, and quit bugging me, Gabe."

  Chuckling to himself, he examined the contents of her three bookcases, which were floor-to-ceiling and crammed with education textbooks and romantic suspense novels. His attention was drawn to the second shelf of the first bookcase where a Matchbox car sat in the midst of tiny shards of glass that had blown in from the dining room. He picked it up.

  The Matchbox car was a 1976 Pontiac Firebird in metallic blue with orange tinted windows and chrome interior. The tiny toy Firebird was identical to the car his mother drove in high school. He turned it over to see the underside, and right where Brody had scratched it with a nail, was the letter "C" for Chase. There was no mistaking this was the Matchbox car Gabe had given to Cat in the second grade.

  He'd had this feeling since the first time he met her that there was something very familiar about Kaitlyn. Could Kaitlyn be the girl he nicknamed Cat in the second grade? There was no other explanation for her having his toy car in her possession.

  All this time, he'd thought Cat had died. He'd mourned for her, but he'd never forgotten her, thanks to the constant replay in his dreams of the day she left in the ambulance.

  A siren in the near distance broke into his thoughts. Soon Cameron and Seth Ziegler, a crime scene technician who specialized in ballistics, arrived.

  Meeting his brother on the porch, Gabe led Cameron and Seth to the side of the house where the windows were shattered.

  "Not to mention your truck. You're lucky you weren't hit!" Cameron said to Gabe.

  "I think he used an assault rifle, possibly a semi-automatic. His van was parked over there in that thicket of trees."

  "I'll head over there and see if the shooter left any spent bullet casings," said Seth.

  "White van?" Cameron asked.

  "I saw the vehicle, but couldn't see a plate or anything by the time I ran to the road."

  "I've got my detectives looking for a white van. They tell me in Shawnee County alone, there are over two hundred. Who knows how many white vans are in the surrounding counties? My gut tells me the killers live in this county, so I've got them running down each one, taking a special look at the 2012 Chevrolet 1500 utility vans on the list."

  "Good idea. These sick freaks need to be caught, and soon." Gabe's voice was low and trembling with anger. He couldn't get the ugly visual of Abby's and Destiny's posed bodies out of his head. And now they wanted Kaitlyn.

  "No argument there, bro," said Cameron.

  Soon Seth returned, holding several spent casings. "I've got an AK-47, and I'll bet you my next pay check that is what these were shot from. I'll give you a final verdict in a couple of days." He headed for his vehicle, then drove back to his lab in town.

  "Have you told Justin Andrews about Destiny's death?" Gabe asked his brother.

  "I didn't have to," said Cameron. "After you left, he rammed his car through the barricade by the road and pushed down two of my deputies who were trying to stop him from getting to the veranda. Bryan and I tried to keep him from her body, but he was so pumped with adrenaline, he cannon-balled us to get to her."

  "Oh, shit."

  "It was the worst thing I've ever seen. Justin threw his arms around the rocking chair
where Destiny's body was propped and wouldn't let go of her. The man was hysterical," said Cameron. "It took two deputies, Bryan, and me, to get him to let go of Destiny and the chair. Bryan gave him something to calm him down, and I walked him to his truck. We sat inside talking for a good thirty minutes. Then he went with me to tell Destiny's parents."