by L. T. Vargus
A secretary at the front desk directed them to a small meeting room on the second floor. As they entered, a dark-haired woman got up from her seat and approached.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself at the scene,” she said, reaching for Darger’s hand. “Detective Castellano. Daniella. I’m the lead on this investigation.”
She wore a pair of gray dress pants and a black shirt, and her raven-black hair was pulled back into a twisted bun at the nape of her neck. Castellano didn’t smile during their greeting, but Darger didn’t interpret it as an unfriendly gesture. There was something about the firmness of her grip during the handshake and the hard look in her eye that told Darger this was the detective she’d want on her case if she were ever a victim.
“Violet Darger. Nice to meet you.”
Corby was in the back corner of the room, talking to another woman and a man. Both were impeccably dressed in expensive suits, the woman in red, the man in gray. Darger wondered if they were also detectives assigned to the case, but before introductions could be made, Corby spun around and clapped his hands together.
“We’re all here,” the Assistant Sheriff said. “Wonderful.”
The points of the star-shaped badge on his chest caught the light as he moved to the front of the room, almost seeming to glitter.
“Just a quick summary of events to get everyone up to speed: at just after 1800 hours, a burning vehicle was reported on Kyle Canyon Road. Police and fire were dispatched, and the fire was extinguished. No passengers found in the cabin of the vehicle, but the trunk revealed two victims, deceased. The medical examiner was able to give me a very preliminary report, enough to determine that both victims were indeed female, both between the ages of 20-35. We will most likely have to rely on dental records for official identification, but we have possibilities from the area Missing Persons database. The process will take time.”
Corby shuffled some papers and Darger spoke up.
“Would it be possible to prioritize abductions that happened in tandem? Two girls taken at the same time?”
Detective Castellano took a step away from the bulletin board that had been propping her up.
“Is that important?”
Darger glanced at Loshak and then back at the detective.
“It could be.”
What Darger left unsaid was that Stump had always abducted his victims in pairs. If that wasn’t the case here, she wondered if she and Loshak were leaping to conclusions on his involvement.
Castellano held up a finger to indicate she wasn’t finished.
“Sorry, but I have to speak my mind. I know it’s what everyone’s thinking,” she said, glancing from Corby to the two FBI agents. “You think it’s a serial killer. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The FBI doesn’t send agents out to assist in routine homicide investigations.”
The two suits in the back eyeballedd each other. Darger still hadn’t figured out what their deal was. She’d dismissed her earlier idea that they might be detectives. They didn’t feel like cops.
Whoever they were, the way they sat in back and a little off to one side gave Darger the feeling that she was being judged or… observed.
Finally Loshak spoke up.
“There are patterns in both your missing persons statistics and particular details of this crime that suggest a serial killer, yes.”
Mr. Fancypants in the gray suit raised his hand.
“I apologize for interrupting, but we only have the one crime scene, is that correct?”
“It is. But the odds of this being a first-time killer are slim, and I’ll explain why. First is the fact that we have two victims. Your average crime of passion — when some Average Joe goes off and kills his wife or girlfriend — there’s only one victim.”
Corby cleared his throat.
“What about that guy… the one in northern California that killed his girlfriend, and while he was in the middle of rolling her up in the living room rug, his cousin’s wife walks in, so he kills her, too?”
“Harold Visser,” Loshak said with a nod. “Well the circumstances in that case resulted in something that deviated from the norm, obviously.”
“So why can’t this be the same kind of deal?”
“Because the victims were bound. You don’t tie someone up after they’re dead. So that probably means a few things: it means he held them captive. Kidnapping scenarios usually involve premeditation. He spent some time planning this out. Unless we’re talking about a rampage killer — and we’re not — killing multiple victims simultaneously is too risky for most people to even consider. One guy might be absolutely confident in his ability to overpower one woman. But two women? Too many ways for things to go wrong.”
“What about the drug cartels?” It was the man in the gray suit again.
Loshak shook his head slowly.
“If this were related to organized crime of some sort, I would expect a completely different crime scene. Either bodies dumped way out in the middle of nowhere, or the car would have been torched right off the Strip. In the former case, the murders are about covering something up. Keeping someone quiet. The bodies need to disappear. The latter is about intimidation. Leaving the car somewhere a lot of people will see it to send a message: this is what happens if you blab the wrong things to the wrong people.”
“And why can’t it be that?”
“Because the car was too far out. It was on a main road, which says the killer wanted it to be found, but it wasn’t in the middle of the city. It still needed to be found by the right people — us. Organized crime doesn’t taunt police like this. Serial killers do.”
“But you said most killers wouldn’t have two simultaneous victims,” the suit said. “Isn’t that arguing against your point?”
“Not in this case. We’re talking about someone abnormally confident in his abilities. Someone who’s done this before and gotten away with it.”
“Sounds you like already have an idea of who this guy is,” Detective Castellano said.
“I do.”
They waited.
“Leonard Stump.”
Darger let her eyes flit around the room, wanting to gauge the reaction. Castellano looked baffled, Corby seemed mildly amused. But the two suits were grim. The woman leaned over and murmured something to Corby that Darger couldn’t hear. She didn’t like how this was going.
Loshak flipped open his folder and began leafing through the profile.
“We’ve put together a summarized version of the original file along with a sketch—”
Corby stopped Loshak with an outstretched palm.
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“I wish it was.”
“Leonard Stump disappeared over twenty years ago. What makes you think there’s any connection?”
Darger took this one.
“You mean other than the M.O. and the location of the murders being exactly the same?”
Corby stared her down, his plump fingers balled into fists and propped on his hips. He didn’t seem as amused now.
“The guy’d have to be, what, forty-something years old? A little old for this kind of thing.”
“Not really. Albert Fish killed in his 50s. Ed Gein and Dennis Rader into their forties.”
“So I’m supposed to believe that Leonard Stump escapes, goes into hiding for twenty years, and for all intents and purposes has gotten away with his crimes. And then what? He gets bored doing the daily crossword puzzle and decides, Hell, I think I’ll start killing again?”
“Just look at the file.” Darger pointed at one of the photocopied pages. “The crime scene photos are an exact match for what we saw today. Identical.”
“Has it occurred to either of you that we may have a copycat on our hands? Either a serial killer or someone trying to cover up a run-of-the-mill murder by making it look like the Stump murders?”
Darger’s fingernails pressed into the meat of her palms. He wasn’t listening. No one was listening. But be
fore she could say more, Loshak interjected.
Taking a step forward, he raised one of the composites in front of him like a shield.
“All we want to do right now is circulate this sketch around the local news stations and papers.”
The sheet of paper rattled as Corby plucked it from Loshak’s grasp.
“What’s this?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Darger noticed the two suits shifting in their seats.
“It’s an artist’s rendering of what we think Leonard Stump might look like now. He’s been digitally aged, but other things might have changed as well — facial hair, glasses, maybe some extra weight. It’s even possible that he would have gone to such lengths as to get plastic surgery, but we can only speculate on what we have. Anyway, I can have digital copies forwarded to the—”
“We’ll take it under consideration,” Corby said. “I appreciate you leaving it to local law enforcement to make the call on this matter.”
The interruption was assertive enough on its own, but the way he bit off his words spoke volumes.
Nobody moved for a beat, and then Darger spoke up.
“Is that a fancy way of saying no?” she said.
He stared at her.
“It’s a fancy way of saying that we’ll take it under consideration.”
Darger really wanted to let him have it then, but Loshak clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“I think it’s time for us to go, Darger. This is a local investigation, and it’s obvious they’re taking things in another direction. We’ve said our part.”
He kept a hand on her elbow, like she might try to escape his grip and lunge at somebody. It was a tempting thought, but she let herself be led out into the hallway.
* * *
As they walked to the car, Darger blew off steam leftover from the argument.
“Wanting to downplay the serial killer angle — it’s got to be about the headlines hurting tourism, right?” Darger said.
“I figure so,” Loshak said. “There were members of the tourist board sitting in on the meeting, so….”
“Guy in gray? Lady in red?”
Loshak nodded, and Darger rolled her eyes.
“God forbid this puts a damper on their precious slot machine industry,” she said with a sneer. “Who cares if a few more girls get barbecued, right? As long as it’s business as usual, funneling the rubes into town so the casinos can dangle them upside-down until every last penny’s fallen out of their pocket.”
Loshak’s eyes looked glassy and far away. Her brow furrowed.
“Are you even listening?”
He blinked a few times before he focused on her, as if clearing his vision of a daydream.
“I heard you. Dangling rubes upside-down.”
She squinted.
“You’re not feeling sick again, are you? You’re being weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. It’s like you’re somewhere else. Up in your head, I mean. Distracted.”
He shrugged.
“Just… thinking. Catching Stump is too damn important to waste time on these pissing contests with the locals.”
“This is really your Moby Dick scenario, huh?”
“Come again?”
“Stump is the whale that bit off your leg, and you’re Captain Ahab, tottering around on a stick, pissed as hell and determined to get vengeance.”
“Cute,” Loshak said, but the way his mouth puckered like he’d eaten something sour said he found it anything but.
“How is it that you ended up dragging me out of there, anyway? Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? You were the one that wanted to lay out the Stump theory in all its glory.”
“I can’t help it if you get carried away,” he said, ignoring the withering look she gave him. “And if you’re wondering why I pulled you out of there, it’s because I had an idea.”
Loshak’s eyes sparkled with something like triumph.
“You have a plan.”
He nodded.
Chapter 9
They sat in the hotel, waiting. Loshak was glued to the TV. Darger had her phone out and swiped at the screen to make it refresh every minute or so. She bounced her leg up and down in a fit of agitation.
Eventually she slammed the phone down with a grunt. Loshak turned at her outburst, saw the frustrated expression on her face.
“Patience, grasshopper,” he said.
“I’ve never counted that as one of my strengths, honestly.”
“No kidding.” He stood and turned the TV off. “Grab your jacket.”
“Where are we going?”
“To take in the sights.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I sort of forgot you spent the day on the plane. You’re gonna lose it if you stay cooped up in this room any longer. And we don’t really need the TV if you have your phone.”
“All true,” she said, sliding the phone into her pocket.
They took the elevator down to the lobby and walked toward the Strip. It was only a block away, and the lights stood out like a beacon.
Traffic was light, but there were still people everywhere. Laughter and raucous voices combined with the music blasting from the storefronts to create a deafening mélange of noise.
Everything was lit up: the buildings, the trees, the fountains. A man rode by on a bike with blue lights threaded through the spokes of his tires. Another passed them carrying a large beverage in a plastic cup with blinking red LEDs. Cameras flashed as people snapped photos.
With the noise and the lights, it was a circus-like atmosphere. It would be easy to hide in a crowd like this.
They moved with the mob, not having a particular destination in mind. There was a chill in the air, and Darger’s fingers started to feel the cold. Eventually they ducked inside a food court and ordered two coffees.
While they sipped the hot brew, Darger flicked at her phone.
She took a drink and almost choked.
“Oh crap,” she said, half-coughing. “It’s happening.”
She held out her phone so Loshak could see the headline. His eyes flitted over the screen.
“That was fast.”
She nodded and blew over the top of her cup. Tiny ghosts made of steam danced over the black liquid.
“Now what?”
Loshak shrugged.
“More waiting.”
She drank and stared at the sketch of Stump pasted front and center on the Daily Gawk website.
“I still can’t believe you leaked the story to the tabloids on purpose.”
“Technically, I didn’t leak anything directly. I was discreet.”
“If that’s your idea of discreet, remind me not to tell you any of my secrets,” Darger said.
Loshak watched through slitted eyes while she dumped coffee down her throat.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to with that face you’re making. Spit it out.”
Darger shrugged.
“Just that usually you’re the one accusing me of stirring the pot.”
“Jealous that I’m taking all the heat for once?”
She snorted. “Oh yeah. That’s exactly it.”
“I have full authorization from Washington, so if these local hacks don’t like it, they can screw,” he said, and then the corner of his mouth twitched into a funny little smirk.
“You know, you can be kind of a bastard sometimes,” Darger said and lifted her cup. “Here’s to you.”
Chapter 10
Emily fades back in to a repeated syllable. The voice is close. Right on top of her. And yet her groggy mind cannot understand.
The blur around her sharpens to reveal the cabin in half-light. Everything still. Everything quiet.
The dark figure sits within an arm’s length. He blocks out most of the light so a darkness falls between them. A shade that shrouds his features in wispy black.
Still, she can make out
his silhouette clearly. He seems bigger this close up. Shoulders broad. Arms and legs both oddly thick. Substantial.
She blinks. Tries to force her eyes to focus.
Something glitters in the shadow between them. A rippling surface floating toward her face, drawing closer in slow motion.
He holds a cup to her lips. A glass of water.
“Drink.”
She drinks. Feels the wet soften the dried out places on her tongue and throat. It feels good.
Her head sags again. So heavy. Her neck can’t hold it up.
She should be terrified. Shaking. Thrashing and clawing and biting. But she’s too tired for any of that.
Her chin rests on her sternum again, and she watches him stand and leave the little section of the floor that comprises her field of vision. Hears his footsteps trail away.
She doesn’t feel in immediate danger, though she doesn’t know why.
She pumps her hands in and out of fists to try to wake up, but it’s no good. The motion slows, slows, stops.
Within a few seconds her eyelids bob closed. The warmth of slumber swells in her face again.
And she drifts. Drifts. Sails toward that stillness once more. The emptiness.
The deep swallows her. No dreams. No stirring. Just the endless numb.
Chapter 11
The technicolored lights of the Strip swiped by in a blur. Loshak manned the wheel, driving north again, away from the city.
“Tell me again what Corby said on the phone,” Darger said.
“I can repeat it ten more times, and you’re not going to wring any more information from it. A gas station attendant called in, says he saw the guy from our sketch.”
“I just can’t believe we got a tip so fast. What time did the kid see him?”
“I already told you: I don’t know. Geez, you really aren’t good with anticipation, are you?”
Darger tugged at her seatbelt and brushed her hair from her eyes. She couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting.
“I just like knowing the details.”
“I bet you were one of those kids who tried to sneak peeks at your Christmas gifts before the big day, weren’t you?”
Darger waited a few moments before responding, “The Fifth Amendment protects me from being compelled to incriminate myself.”