I could hear the faint sound of laughter as I turned around searching the yard for him. It took a moment before I realized he was still on the phone I had shoved into the front pocket of my hoodie.
“Ab-by? Can you hear me?”
I brought the phone up to my ear.
“Guess what? I’m not there.” More laughter. “You want to know what the best part is? The next time I call, you won’t know whether I’m toying with you or not.”
Chapter 11
That same night Jerry and Vicki were out on the town, taking in San Francisco’s eclectic nightlife. They had caught a show at the Curran Theater and were enjoying a few cocktails at Bourbon and Branch, a speakeasy on Jones Street.
“What a charming bar,” Jerry said as he looked around.
It certainly wasn’t typical. For one, reservations were needed to receive a password to get in, as well as to receive the address. From the outside, a passerby saw only an unmarked door: no window, no sign, nothing. However, inside was quite the opposite. It was plush and ornate. The floors, booths, bar, and built-in bookcases were all fashioned out of polished wood. The wood finishes played up the era of Prohibition, but the lighting and crushed red velvet patterns lining one of the walls kept the vibe current and hip.
Unlike a bar packed with standing room only, this one had individual booths. According to the house rules, standing wasn’t allowed around the bar—sitting only. And patrons took the term speakeasy literally. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, much like Jerry imagined they had back in those days.
Vicki beamed back at her husband. “Isn’t the whole secret entrance so cool?”
“It is. I quite like it.” Jerry looked at his watch before picking up his glass and swirling the amber liquor around.
“What’s the matter, honey? You don’t want to leave, do you?”
“No, not at all. But I’m wondering if we’ll find what we’re looking for here. It’s almost midnight, and as much as I love this place, we have a task at hand.” He was always the more pragmatic of the two.
“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t mind having to extend our stay a bit longer if we had to,” Vicki replied before taking a sip of her drink.
“I know you love it here, dear, but we can’t stay forever.”
Vicki relaxed her shoulders and held her glass with two hands. “I’m just so enjoying our time,” she said with a pout before turning it into a smile and singing the city’s famous song.
“Speaking of leaving your heart in San Francisco,” Jerry said, triggering a burst of laughter from the two of them.
Vicki followed that up with, “Thump. Thump.”
Anyone sitting next to them and hearing the conversation would think nothing of it except maybe that they were having a good time and cracking a few inside jokes between them. Pretty normal stuff, except the Carlsons weren’t normal people.
They were in San Francisco, and they had a quota to fulfill—three down, two more to go. The way Vicki saw it, there wasn’t any real rush; they were supposed to be on an adventure full of fun. So what if they played tourist a bit longer than they had planned? It hurt no one, and it gave their victims an extra day or two of life.
But now that they had their next directive, Jerry had become extremely focused. The answer they received earlier in the day from the fortune cookie factory was the word “heart.” It allowed them to unlock their fourth objective, which called for them to leave someone’s heart in San Francisco. He couldn’t help but start planning. The kill was hardwired into him. Vicki as well, but she had an easier time controlling her appetite. Once Jerry fell into kill mode, there was no switching it off.
Vicki held up her rocks glass. “Here’s to finding a heart, whether it be tonight, tomorrow or the next day.”
Jerry nodded and tinked his glass against hers.
Vicki watched her husband. His concentrated stare in his glass, the bouncing of his left leg, the biting of his lower lip—she knew all the signs. She had done her best to prolong the inevitable, but it wasn’t like she didn’t look forward to what was coming up. She did. And thinking about it while watching her husband started to stoke her internal desires. She, too, would become cold and calculating. When she shifted into the same state of mind as her husband, she was equally as dangerous. Even Jerry wasn’t safe. But he was unaware of that.
Chapter 12
The next morning, I gave Reilly the heads up about the phone call.
“Sheesh, Abby. Are you okay?” He sat up in his chair, and his eyes softened with concern, something I didn’t always see from him.
“I’m fine,” I answered. “To be honest, I was shaken at first, but only because the call came unexpectedly.”
“Of course. That’s a natural response. Remember, people like him are cowards. That’s why they do their tormenting while hiding. He’s a weak and pathetic man.”
I couldn’t have agreed more with Reilly. I wasn’t afraid of the Monster but knowing that sicko was out there and I had to constantly watch my back was an irritation. I wanted nothing more than to put a slug in his head.
“Is that all he said?” Reilly asked, leaning back and drumming the armrest of his chair.
“Yeah. And then he kept laughing. I have no idea if he’s still in the city or not. I didn’t detect any background noise, and he called from a blocked number.”
“I can look into getting a security detail outside your house—”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You want a new number?”
I took a moment to think about Reilly’s offer. “No. I want to stay in touch with him. It’ll keep me on my toes. Plus, if he feels like he can keep calling me, he might make a mistake, and that’s how we’ll get him.”
Reilly lowered his glasses from his head to his nose. “All right. Keep me posted on the calls.”
He looked down at his laptop and started to type but realized I was still sitting across from him. “Is there something else?”
“Uh, actually, you called me in here, but I brought up the phone call, and we never got around to why you called me in here.”
Reilly threw both hands up in the air. “You’re right. Sorry, been a little distracted lately.”
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Listen, I received a call the other day from a Captain Richard Cavanaugh from SFPD, Central District. He said he has two detectives working a couple of homicides, and they’re of the opinion that they might have a serial killer on their hands.”
“Why is that?”
“He didn’t go into the details too much, but he asked for a meeting with his two detectives and us. He wants our take on their reasoning. If it seems likely that they are right, he wants to know if we could help them out with a profile on their killer. As I told you yesterday, you’re our best when it comes to stuff like this. Will you meet with them?”
“Sure. Not a problem.”
“By the way, how’s the investigation on that hiker coming along?”
“It’s coming. I’ll have more to convey later today after I do a little more digging.”
Reilly nodded and went back to typing on his laptop, and I went back to my desk.
I was curious about the detectives’ findings, since I had come to a similar conclusion with the Taylor case. I dialed the Oakland offices and asked for Agent House.
“Abby, good to hear from you. How are you and the family doing?”
“I’m doing well. The kids are busy with school, and well, you know my mother-in-law.”
“That I do,” House said, laughing. “I hear you got lucky and picked up my leftovers.”
“Yeah, way to stir up the pot and pass it along,” I joked.
“Seriously, though, I’m sorry you were handed this mess. Who’d’ve thought we’d find a frickin’ body up there?”
“It’s fine. Listen, I wanted to pick your brain a bit more. Mind if I stop by?”
“Sure. I’m in the office all day.”
Time was a factor, so there was no sense in putting off our meeting. I sent a couple of emails and stopped by the ladies’ room before leaving. As I was about to enter the elevator, I heard someone call my name.
“Agent Kane.”
I turned around and saw a man, a young recruit straight out of the Academy, hurrying my way.
“Agent Kane?” he called out once more. This time his voice wavered.
“Yes?”
“I’m glad I caught you. Special Agent Reilly wants to see you right away in his office.”
“About what?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” He looked a little flustered. Poor thing, he only started last week. Heck, even I couldn’t remember the guy’s name. “I know he has a couple of SFPD detectives in his office.”
That was fast. “All right. Thanks,” I said and gave him a pat to his arm.
As I reached Reilly’s office, I heard voices I didn’t recognize. One was loud, boisterous and had an accent, and the other… Well, it wasn’t anything—just forgettable.
As I turned into Reilly’s office, I immediately stopped as if a force field had prevented my advancement. What I saw made me feel like I was teleported into an episode of The Twilight Zone, because standing in front of me, with that toothy grin of his, was Detective Kyle Kang.
Chapter 13
To an outsider, it must have looked like an old-time vaudeville act, with Kang pointing at me as he struggled to get at least one coherent word out of his mouth. “Wait, you work here?” He finally managed.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Apparently you still need my help.”
“You’re an agent?”
“I know. You were hoping for free tickets to the museum, right?”
His partner had put two and two together and burst into big belly laughs.
Reilly was in the dark. “I guess you guys know each other,” he offered.
“Detective Kang and I have met on a few occasions, though I believe this is the first time he’s discovering that I work for the FBI.”
“Agent Kane is our best when it comes to cases involving heinous and sexual crimes,” Reilly told Kang and his partner, “especially those involving a serial killer. She also has a tremendous understanding of how criminal organizations work, having run the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau back in Hong Kong.”
“Hong Kong?” Kyle repeated.
“That’s right. Abby joined the Bureau about four years ago.”
“Give or take a few months,” I added.
“Look, Detectives, I’m doing your captain a favor here and allowing my agent to lend her expertise to your case,” Reilly piped up. “You can take it or leave it. We have plenty to do around here.”
Kang immediately pulled himself together. “No, we’ll take it. I apologize if I came off as not wanting your help. I was caught off guard, that’s all. My partner and I would be happy to hear Agent Kane’s thoughts on our case.”
“Well, with that said, why you don’t you guys go play nicely?” Reilly suggested, motioning with his hands for us to get out of his office.
“Follow me,” I said. “We can talk in the conference room.”
As we walked down the hallway past L-shaped desks and glassed-in offices, I could only imagine what Kang thought—probably that I thought he was an idiot. I didn’t know him well enough to make that judgment. We’d had a series of weird and unusual encounters. That’s all.
“You guys want something to drink?” I offered as we passed the break room. “Coffee? Soda?”
“We’re fine, thanks,” Kang replied.
I led them both into the conference room and shut the door behind us. It had large windows instead of walls. “I hope you don’t mind.” I walked around the room and closed the shades. “I can’t stand it when people peer inside as they walk by.” Neither said anything.
I took a seat opposite both of them and thought, before getting into the details of their case, I should make peace. We’re all fighting the bad guys. “It’s Detective Sokolov, right?”
The big Russian nodded.
“Look,” I continued, “before we get started, I want to apologize if I led you to believe I was someone I wasn’t.”
“You could have pointed out you were an FBI agent the first day we met,” Kang said.
I nodded my head. “I could have, but what took place that day wasn’t a federal crime. There was no need to identify myself as a federal agent. I had a duty to help, which I did.”
The two of them looked at each other, and then back at me.
“You’re right,” Kang said. “Now that we know what each other does, we can move on.”
“Great. So fill me in on your case.”
Kang did most of the talking as he told me about the two bodies, the details of each crime, and how the missing body parts connected the two.
“And other than the missing finger with the diamond ring, the other jewelry and money were left behind?” I asked.
“Yes. That’s why we ruled out robbery. Same thing with the man with the missing teeth.”
“Both victims were killed fast and quietly with a blade.” Sokolov motioned across his neck with his finger. “Our guy knows how to kill.”
“Exactly,” Kang said, sitting forward in his chair. “That’s why we think it’s the same person. Both victims had the carotid artery in their neck severed. The killer then takes what he needs from the victims and leaves. They die quickly without the ability to call out for help.”
One didn’t need to be a brain surgeon to see that they were right. I agreed. “You got anything to go on? Witnesses? DNA? Any leads?”
Both detectives shook their heads.
“Where were the bodies found?”
“We found the lady in Fay Park on Russian Hill. According to the husband, she was out walking her dog late at night but never came back. She only lived two houses up the street. The husband figured she swung through the park, so he headed over there.”
“Why did he think that?”
“She loved visiting that park, and apparently, she was prone to falling asleep if she sat for too long. Anyway, he finds her sitting on a bench with her throat cut and a finger missing. The dog lay by her feet unharmed.”
“And the other victim?”
“Black male. His teeth were found first in a gold pan between Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39. We found a body in the water with missing teeth. DNA match confirmed they were his.”
“No witnesses from that crime scene either?”
“No,” Kang said.
“From what you’re telling me, I have no reason not to question your theory. Killing a person and then mutilating the body afterwards or during the process is typical of serial killer behavior. Clearly, there’s some sort of meaning behind the missing body parts or in the way the victims were killed. Removing the victim’s gold teeth and placing them in a gold pan suggests that the killer might be trying to send a message. Do you have a serial killer on your hands?” I tilted my head from side to side. “The evidence supports that theory, but more importantly, you really have nothing else to go on at the moment. What’s missing here is motivation.”
Kang turned both his palms up. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that, if you can figure out the motivation, that’ll tell you whether or not this person intends to keep on killing or if it was just a two-body hurrah. Typically, it isn’t labeled a serial killer unless there are three bodies.”
“So you’re saying we should wait until there are three?”
“Actually, I don’t agree with that argument. I think you can have two bodies.” I laced my fingers together and placed them on the table. “Look, there are plenty of gang members who have killed more than three people, and yet, they don’t get the label. The reason is motivation. Their killings are either a result of a robbery, retribution, or simply being in the wrong neighborhood. The motivations for those types of deaths aren’t to gain attention or to seek out sexual gratificatio
n.”
“We think he’s collecting body parts.”
“Now that is motivation that’s more in line with a serial killer.”
Listening to Kang, I couldn’t help but make comparisons to my own case and wonder if all three crimes could be connected. Whoever killed Piper Taylor had killed before—I knew that much—but I still needed to determine what motivated my killer. Kang thought his killer collected body parts, which was textbook serial killer. As far as I knew, Piper wasn’t missing any limbs or organs. Would that immediately eliminate my victim from being associated with his? I also had to assume that Kang might be wrong.
“I’m investigating a homicide right now where evidence suggests my killer has killed before.”
“What homicide?” Kang asked.
“An FBI agent discovered a body on Mount Tamalpais over the weekend. The victim had an axe sticking out of her chest.”
“I heard about that one,” Sokolov piped up. “Young girl, like a model, right?”
“That’s the one.” I filled Kang and Sokolov in on the details of the crime and what I had learned from the medical examiner’s office. After I finished, Kang leaned back in his chair and chewed on his fingernails before speaking. “You’re thinking there might be a connection?”
“I hadn’t ruled it out yet.”
Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) Page 5