by Anne Patrick
Her words prompted tears of his own. He had suspected she had seen some horrible sights, but nothing like she'd just described. His respect for what she did just tipped the scales. "The nightmare you had in my office that day, it was about Briggs, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. He's still with me. He will be till the day I catch him."
He moved to sit next to her and draped his arm across her shoulder. "Does your family know that this was the reason you didn't attend your father's funeral?"
Jo shook her head against his shoulder.
"You have to tell them, Jo."
She turned in his arms. "It would only confirm what they already think."
"What happened to you, Jo, is nothing to be ashamed of. It could have happened to anyone."
"It's more than my metal stability that's keeping me from talking to my mother, Austin. The fact remains that I chose to stay on the case. I chose my work over my family."
"She'll forgive you, Jo."
"How can you be so sure?"
"It's called grace. Besides, if she wasn't ready to forgive you, she wouldn't have called." When she gave no reply, he asked, "Do you know the story about the prodigal son in Luke Fifteen of the Bible?"
"I must have skipped that lesson in Sunday school."
"Read it. It'll help you come to the right decision."
She shot him a welcomed smile. "Thanks for listening to my soap opera."
"I'm glad you told me."
"So am I. Now you know what you're getting yourself into. Are you scared yet?"
"Not in the least."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Monday morning, Jo stood in front of the courthouse and read her profile to a crowd of close to a hundred men and women. Citizens of Claremont and reporters from across the state who'd gathered and listened intently as she described the killer of five innocent women.
"I believe he's fixated on a particular woman who he fantasizes about during the attack. This is what's driving him, and she will be his ultimate kill."
"Why keep the heads," one of the reporters asked.
"For a couple of reasons: to hinder law enforcement in identifying the victim quickly and as a souvenir, a trophy of his conquests. He feels connected to the victim and the woman he is fixated on, this is what's motivating him to kill. He sees himself as a victim. He feels he's doing these women a favor by killing them, he may even believe he is saving them.
"Could his mother be the one he's fixated on?" Another reporter asked.
"It's a possibility. Though he loves his mother, worships her and would never consciously hurt her, something has happened in his life that has triggered this subconscious hatred that lurks deep inside him."
Jo took a drink from her bottled water and continued. "Our perpetrator is a highly intelligent individual, and his job allows him to travel or work the airport, therefore, bringing him in contact with these women. He's a charming, very personable man, Caucasian, thirty-five to forty-five years old, at least five-eight. Slim to muscular build. He's going to be someone you never thought capable of killing. He's the guy next door, a prince charming who knows women well."
"How close do you think you are to catching him?"
"Keep in mind, that due to the lack of trace evidence, a crime scene, and the attempt to hide their identities, it's going to be very difficult to apprehend this individual. I think he is familiar with police procedure or has read up intensively on the subject of serial murders, which makes our job even harder. That isn't to say he won't be caught, though."
"Do you know how he transports the bodies, and why he is bringing them here?"
"He owns a van or has access to one as well as surgical tools used in dismembering a body. He knows the area well so he has either lived Claremont or has family and friends here."
"It's been almost a month since the first murder and you've no suspects. What makes you think you're ever going to catch him?"
"The longer he continues, the better the odds are of him making a mistake, and Claremont has an outstanding sheriff's department, so it's just a matter of time before he's apprehended."
"Are there any leads at all, Sheriff?"
With relief, Jo turned the podium over to Austin. "We have a witness who saw the man with one of the victims and they are working with the police to develop a composite sketch which will be made available to you as soon as possible. A tip hotline has been set up, the number will be passed out when we're finished here, and we ask that if you saw anyone fitting his description in the areas of where the bodies were dumped, to please call. We are also in the process of setting up a reward fund, from public donations and from the victims' families themselves."
"Isn't Agent McDaniels the profiler who helped catch the I-35 Killer last year?" A female reporter asked and Austin stepped back from the microphone.
"I did the profile, yes, but the police are the ones that apprehended Mr. Graham."
"How long have you been a profiler?" a male reporter asked.
"Ten years."
"Do you work out of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico?"
"Yes."
"How many cases have you helped to solve, Agent McDaniels?"
"I don't know. I personally don't keep track."
"They say you have an unusual knack at apprehending these guys, so much in fact that you're one of the elite in your profession."
"We all have different methods we use to develop a profile of an unknown suspect, but our goals are the same and that is to help catch and convict the person responsible."
"Is it true you grew up here, that Claremont is your hometown?"
Before she had a chance to answer, Austin rushed to her rescue. "That's all the questions we have time for. Agent McDaniels has worked extremely hard to give us this profile, it's now up to me and my department to apprehend the man responsible."
*****
Jo slowly made her way through the crowd, stopping along the way to answer questions from reporters. She was almost across the street when she caught site of her brother approaching her out of the dispersing crowd. Her stomach did an immediate nose-dive, which prompted her to quicken her pace toward the sheriff's office. Billy was just as quick and blocked the entrance.
"Why did you come back here, Jo? Surely you aren't the only profiler the FBI had available."
"I don't know why I came, but I'm starting to wish I hadn't." At least where her family was concerned.
"Well. I know the decision to come had nothing to do with your family. It's obvious we're the farthest thing from your mind right now."
"We've got five dead women on our hands, Billy, what do you suggest I should be thinking about…what kind of dessert I'll be bringing to our next family outing?"
"You're turning out to be just like him, you know that don't you?"
"What are you talking about, Billy?"
"Dad. You're becoming just like him. Your work is your life and there's no room in it for anything or anyone else."
"You listen to me, Billy. Until you've lived a day in my life, seen the things that I have, or felt the things I have, don't you dare judge me." She met his stare straight on. "It's people like me and Austin, Slim and Walt, and the other deputies of this town who make these streets safe for you. Without us, who's going to bust that pervert lurking around your kid's school? Who's going to prevent a mugger or worse, a rapist from attacking Mariah on the way to the grocery store? So the next time you're out playing golf at your safe little country club, you think about that. Think about how secure you'd feel if it wasn't for people like us who do dedicate our lives to our work."
Not waiting for a reply, she brushed past him.
Jo entered the sheriff's office to a round of applause, led by Slim. Glancing around at the half-dozen faces, including that of Deputy Pendergrass she was appalled to realize they had all heard the argument with her brother.
Deputy Pendergrass stepped forward. "Nice speech, Agent McDaniels."
Still angered and now embarrassed,
Jo stared at the deputy, and for the first time in her life, was at a loss for words. Her trance was broken when he offered his hand. "I haven't been too receptive toward you, and…well, I'd just like to say I'm sorry. It wasn't until I heard your profile that I got a sense of what you must go through during the course of your work."
She shook his hand and managed a brief smile.
"Good news, Jo, we've got a positive ID on the stewardess," Slim said and stepped forward to give her a brief supportive hug, which she greatly appreciated.
"That is good news." Then turning to the small gathering of deputies, she added, "Today is only the first step, guys. We've still a lot of work ahead of us, and if we've any hopes of catching this guy, we're going to have to work as a team. I am not here on behalf of the FBI to steal this case out from under you; I'm only here to lend a hand in his apprehension. The profile I've given you is only a building block to your investigation, to give you an idea of the type of person you should look for. A lot of people, including my brother, as you just witnessed, don't understand the process I go through to gain access to the killer's personality, but I assure you I've done my best to give an accurate description of the man you're looking for."
"You said he lives in Portland, should we notify the police there, get their assistance?" Deputy Pendergrass asked.
"I believe Sheriff Garrett already has that covered. I'm sure he'll be briefing you as soon as he returns."
"Do you think the woman he's fixated on lives here in Claremont?" Slim asked.
"It's the only reason I can think of for why he brings the bodies back here."
"Do you really think we'll catch him?" Deputy Pendergrass asked softly, and for the first time since meeting him, Jo noticed an uncertainty in his voice, almost as if he was frightened.
She met his gaze then scanned the faces of the other deputies and she realized they were all as uncertain as Deputy Pendergrass. "We're going to catch him, guys, it's just a matter of patience. If we keep our heads and work as a team, we will stop him."
Seemingly having boosted their confidence, Jo disappeared into Austin's office and took a seat behind his desk. After a brief phone call to Agent Washington, assuring his answering machine she was still alive and kicking, she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, the events of the morning playing back in her mind.
Moments later, Jo heard the office door open. She opened her eyes and found Austin shutting the blinds of his office.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." She started to rise from his chair, but he motioned for her to stay put.
"Slim said you had another run-in with Billy."
"I'm worried about him, Austin. Up until my dad's death, we had an amiable relationship…I mean, we were at least decent to one another. Now, it's almost as if he hates me, and I don't think it's just because I missed my father's funeral."
"What do you think it is?"
"I don't know, but I've never seen him this angry before."
"Your sister-in-law said he'd been under a lot of stress and hinted that there may be money problems. I can check it out if you want?"
"No. You've got your hands full. I'll look into it."
"You could go talk to your mother. She may know something?"
She went silent at his suggestion. Her thoughts drifting back to the conversation she'd had with her brother, she wondered if there was more truth to Billy's accusation than she wanted to admit.
"Jo?"
She ran her hands back through her hair, and turned, meeting his gaze. "Billy's right you know, I am turning into my father. I mean look at me. I'll jump on a plane at a moment's notice to go hunt down a serial killer on the other side of the country, but I won't even drive across town to visit my own mother."
"You're just scared. Swallowing one's pride is never easy."
"Maybe everyone's right, maybe I am crazy. I have no social life to speak of. It's pretty pathetic when you have to take dating advice from a fifteen-year-old. And who in their right mind would find happiness at the prospect of crawling into the minds of monsters."
Austin sat on the edge of his desk and wrapped his hand around hers. "I can't even begin to fathom what it must be like being in this guy's head, but I know you do it in order to save innocent lives. You have a gift, Jo. It may be one that few people will ever understand, but the fact remains this is what you live to do, and you're good at it."
She smiled. To finally find someone that understood her and what she did for a living, and still wanted to be around her was beyond her wildest dreams. "I sure am glad you aren't the male chauvinist, pot-bellied sheriff I imagined you to be."
He laughed. "And I'm glad you're not the homely and arrogant federal agent I imagined you to be."
She stood, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Arrogant, huh?"
"Crazy thought, I know." He wrapped his arms around her as his mouth captured hers in a searching embrace that left them both breathless.
"We aren't doing a very good job of keeping this strictly professional," she said, smiling.
"No, we aren't. I can't seem to stop thinking about you."
"I should go." She kissed him briefly, before pushing out of his arms. "I want to catch Brad before lunch. Maybe if I buy him a steak, he'll forgive me long enough to answer my questions."
"Somehow I doubt it'd take much more than a smile from you to get him to forgive you."
"I wonder if that'd work on my mother?"
"Believe me. It'll be much easier than you think."
"I'll call you when I get back."
"Be careful, Jo."
"Always."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Brad was just finishing up an autopsy, Jo learned, upon her arrival at the morgue in Portland. Choosing not to wait she donned a surgical gown and mask and joined him in the autopsy bay. Engrossed in his work, he wasn't even aware she had sneaked into the room. Not even when his assistant glanced her way and she motioned for him to switch places with her.
It wasn't until Brad asked for a surgical instrument that he became aware of her presence. "Could you give me a hint as to what that might look like?" she asked.
He glanced up. Judging from his expression, he wasn't thrilled to see her. "What are you doing here?"
She remembered Austin's suggestion and offered her best smile. "I'm here to beg forgiveness and to ask for your help. I'll even buy your lunch."
He ignored the peace offering. Returning his attention to the man he was dissecting, he reached into the chest cavity and removed the heart. "You've got the FBI's forensic team, what do you need my help for?" He placed the heart onto the scale and made a verbal note of its weight.
"Because they weren't on the same flight as our last victim."
"And I was," he asked, continuing with his work.
"According to the passenger manifest you were."
"You've positively identified the victim?"
"Austin did. She was a stewardess on the same flight as you from Seattle."
He turned slowly and laid the instrument he'd been using on a nearby table. "And how am I suppose to help you?"
It appeared it was going to take more than a smile to win his forgiveness. "I'd like you to take a look at a couple of photographs I have of the victim to see if you recognize her. Maybe you can recall something out of the ordinary that took place on the flight."
He glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's been a week, Jo, I barely remember the flight."
"Just come to lunch with me, Brad. Take a look at the photos, enjoy a good meal, and I'll have you back here in an hour." She glanced down at the body. "I doubt he'll mind if you take a break."
"I'm almost finished here. Wait for me outside, and send Ted back in if you would please."
*****
Jo let Brad choose the restaurant and he chose Chinese, a welcomed change from Bertha and Al's. But as the spicy chicken played havoc on her stomach less than twenty minutes after the plates had been cleared, she found herself regretting
her choice as well as her body's reminder of the ulcer she'd been carrying around for the last three years.
Brad was quick to pick up on her agony. "You look miserable, Jo," he commented as she searched her briefcase for some Rolaids.
"It was the spicy chicken. I should know better." She found the newly opened roll, popped three in her mouth and chewed them up. "So are you going to forgive me for being so nasty to you these past few weeks?"
He smiled. "We both behaved badly, besides you know I never could stay mad at you."
"Good, I was afraid I'd lost my charm."
"I realize the strain and pressure you must be under, Jo, but just remember it isn't easy for me either. You used to work there. You know how it gets sometimes."
"I remember, and I'm sorry I berated you the way I did the other day. It was uncalled for."
"Tell me something. Do you ever regret leaving?"
"No. As strange as it sounds, I love what I do. I can't imagine doing anything else."
"What about us, any regrets there?"
"You'll always hold a special place in my heart, Brad," she admitted. "But things change, people change…I changed. We both made a choice, which we felt was best for us at the time."
"I'm sorry I said those things to you. I am glad you came, and that you stopped by today."
She met his smile with one of her own. "I am, too."
"So I take it you're making good progress on the case?"
She welcomed the change of subject. "I think so. I gave my profile to the media this morning."
"You've identified all the victims?"
Jo nodded. "And the sheriff found a witness who's working with a sketch artist on a composite. I'm pretty certain he's from the Portland area, but he either grew up in Claremont or has family or friends there."
Her news brought another smile. "I'm impressed."
"We've still a long ways to go. That's why I need your help, Brad." She reached into her brief case, took out the photo of Suzanne Reynolds and laid it on the table in front of him. "Do you remember her?"