by Alex Kava
“What are you talking about?” Steele wanted to know.
Immediately, Maggie glanced up at Turner looking to see if he meant to let that piece of information slip out. There were details of a crime that you held close. Certain things that only a handful of investigators and the killer knew about. Technically the deputy was part of the investigation, but Maggie wondered if maybe this particular deputy didn’t need to know. Obviously he had not gotten a “pretty good look,” despite his bragging claim.
“Son of a bitch left something in a takeout container,” Turner said then shot a quick glance at Maggie, as if checking to make sure it didn’t still make her nauseated. She wanted to remind him that she had done just fine at the autopsy yesterday when he was groaning. Then he continued, “Looked like pie à la mode with something added.”
“Wait. What do you mean, something added?”
Turner looked at the deputy, and he raised an eyebrow waiting for the man to figure it out. But Maggie could see Steele still mulling it around like it didn’t make sense.
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Tell me about it,” Turner said. “Ruined one of my favorite desserts.”
“Sheriff is convinced we got a serial killer on our hands,” Steele told them. “You think that might be the case?”
This time Turner didn’t blink. Maggie was too chilled to have this conversation. She glanced over her shoulder and was grateful to see Cunningham and the sheriff on their way back. Steele noticed, too, and his entire demeanor changed like he’d flipped a switch.
“Nothing more for us to do here,” Sheriff Geller said, tucking in his shirt as if to emphasize that they were finished. “How bout I buy all of you a drink before you head back home?”
“Thanks Sheriff. Unfortunately we’ll have to take a rain check,” Cunningham told him. “My team might be finished out here but we still have some work to do.”
On that same note, Maggie asked the sheriff, “Did you know them?”
He stared at her like perhaps he didn’t understand her question.
“The victims,” she explained. “Katie said they were her Uncle Lou and Aunt Beth. Did you know them?”
“We might all live out in the sticks, Agent, but no, we don’t all know each other.”
“I don’t believe Agent O’Dell meant any disrespect, Sheriff Geller,” Cunningham said. “It’s our job to gather as much information as we can. We have the girl and her safety to think about.”
“Sure, sure, I understand.” He tilted his hat back but he kept his eyes on Maggie. “I can certainly offer some assistance there if you’re worried about her.” Now he looked over at Cunningham. “Let me know which hospital you have her at, and I can have a deputy outside her room.”
“That would be helpful,” Cunningham said then he turned and headed for their SUV.
Maggie could feel the tension between the two men. Neither Cunningham nor Sheriff Geller offered to shake the other’s hand. Nor did they promise to keep each other posted.
She glanced at Turner to see if he noticed. He was climbing into the backseat, leaving her to ride shotgun alongside Cunningham. He winked at her and shot her a grin like he was doing her a favor.
They drove down the long driveway in silence, but as soon as they turned onto the main road, Cunningham said, “No information gets shared with Geller. If he calls, direct him to me. Understood?”
His tone was matter-of-fact. No anger. No frustration.
“Yes, of course,” Maggie said in unison with Turner’s, “Okay, sure.”
Maggie waited for more explanation. There was none.
18
Washington, D.C.
Dr. Gwen Patterson’s heels clicked all the way down the tiled floor of the hospital hallway. She had been heading out to the Kennedy Center when Kyle Cunningham called her. Her date was with a professor at John Hopkins—tall, dark and handsome with an M.D. and a Ph.D. behind his name. He had invited her to see the Washington National Opera’s performance of Carmen followed by drinks at the Columbia Room. She hadn’t had a swanky night out like this since . . . forever. And yet, the second she heard Kyle Cunningham’s voice, she felt that damned flutter in her stomach. Her palms were sweaty and by the end of the conversation she had made a promise to him that completely derailed her entire evening.
Damn it!
She hated that he had that effect on her. He was a married man—off limits. But the chemistry between them was so tangible she swore others had noticed, no matter how careful Gwen had been.
They had worked together only a few times—three to be exact. Gwen was a psychiatrist and had her own successful practice in the District. Her clients—she referred to them as clients, rarely patients unless they required hospitalization—included senators and congressmen, even a five-star general, but she specialized in criminal behavior. Sometimes she wondered what the hell she was thinking, but the subject fascinated her.
She’d written a book, published dozens of articles and suddenly became the go-to-expert that the media loved to call on. A year ago her guest appearance on a national talk show had attracted the attention of the Assistant Director of the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico. He wanted to hire her as a consultant on a murder case. Then came another case and another. It didn’t take long and Gwen was wishing Kyle Cunningham would think of her without there being a dead body involved.
She thought this might be the time when she answered her phone and he said, “Gwen, I need you.”
Yes, those very words and the tension in his voice had made her knees go weak, although she tried to blame the cracked sidewalk and three-inch heels. He’d literally caught her on the street before she climbed into the waiting town car.
Even when he asked his favor and it was all about business, she didn’t once consider saying, “no.”
What in the world was wrong with her?
Why hadn’t she told him that she had a hot date and tickets to the opera? That she was wearing a little black dress with a slit up her thigh–totally inappropriate attire for a hospital visit. Not to mention that the three-inch heels were already killing her feet.
He asked his favor, and before she knew it she heard herself instructing him which hospital to use and telling him, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Then she got in the town car, redirected the driver and made the phone call to cancel her swanky night out. That’s just what friends did for each other, she told herself, knowing full well she and Cunningham were not really friends. But that was how she explained it to Professor Hottie.
Now she stopped at the nurse’s station. The unit secretary looked up at her, and Gwen didn’t flinch as the woman’s eyes traveled down checking out Gwen’s dress but without a flash of judgment. She had probably seen stranger things in the last several hours. She thought the woman looked familiar but didn’t take anything for granted and introduced herself.
“I’m Dr. Gwen Patterson. I’m meeting a young girl the FBI’s bringing in.”
“Already here.” She pointed down the hall. “They have her in room 333. Finally got her sedated.”
“I was hoping they’d wait for me to talk to her before they did that.”
“If they’d waited you would have needed a helmet.”
“That bad?”
“Mostly scared. They said her daddy was one of the victims.” The secretary got up from behind the counter and grabbed something from a drawer. She handed it to Gwen and said, “No sense in ruining a perfectly awesome dress.”
Gwen unfolded the garment. The white lab coat would be too large but she smiled and said, “Thanks.” She slipped it on and started rolling up the too-long sleeves as she made her way to room 333.
Before she got to the door, a man came out of the room. His hair was tousled, his tie loosened and his suit wrinkled. He looked exhausted. She barely recognized him.<
br />
“Agent Delaney,” she called out.
Relief crossed his face. He wiped his left palm over his jaw as he offered her his right.
“Thanks for coming Dr. Patterson.” Then he noticed her dress and heels. “Looks like we interrupted your evening.”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter and told him, “I’ve seen Carmen several times. I already know how it ends.” It wasn’t Delaney’s fault, after all. She could have said, “no.”
He nodded and smiled then led her farther down the hallway so the girl couldn’t hear them talking outside her door.
“Her name’s Katie. They had to sedate her, so I’m not sure you’ll get anything more out of her. A.D. Cunningham was hoping she might tell you a last name or what other family she has. If what she’s told us is true, she lost an aunt, an uncle and her father.”
“Did she see what happened?”
“We’re not sure. General consensus is that if she had, she wouldn’t still be alive. But there were footprints on the carpet, and she was barefoot when we found her with bloody soles. Not from cuts on her feet. So she might have wandered in and saw the aftermath.”
“How bad was it?”
“Bad.” Delaney’s eyes darted back up the hallway, making sure no one was in earshot. “Uncle Lou was hanging upside down from the ceiling when his throat was cut.”
Gwen closed her eyes. Shook her head. No little girl should ever have to see such a thing.
“It’s possible she spent a whole night in that storm cellar. Maybe longer. Attending doctor says she’s dehydrated. Still in shock.”
“And her father?”
“She said he fell in the river. They were still retrieving his body when we left the scene.”
“Does she know he’s dead?”
Delaney swiped his hand over his jaw. “She asked me about him in the ambulance. Wanted to know if they were taking him to the same hospital.” He met Gwen’s eyes, and she could see the pained look when he added, “I didn’t know what to tell her.”
“You did fine, Agent Delaney. She was lucky to have you there with her. How old is she?”
“Maybe eleven or twelve. I’m guessing she’s about the same age as my oldest daughter.”
That explained why this was extra hard for him. Gwen knew he wasn’t just comparing the two girls’ ages.
“I’ll talk to her. Go on home Agent Delaney.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around?”
“I promise I’ll be gentle with her. It’s actually better if she only has me to lean on. If you’re there she’ll look to you as a mediator. Go home and hug your daughters.”
She watched him leave then Gwen found the girl’s room. The sedatives had kicked in. Katie was asleep. She looked tiny and fragile in the hospital bed with IV lines going into her thin arms.
Gwen glanced at her watch as she sat in the chair next to the bed. She had cancelled her entire evening to sit and wait. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this with a client and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
She slipped the heels off and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She studied the girl’s face. It was calm except for a slight pouting of her lips. Every once in a while her eyelids twitched.
There would be nightmares and possibly a fear of the dark. Maybe even claustrophobia. She would grieve for her aunt and uncle. She would cry for her father. There was nothing Gwen could do to make any of that hurt go away.
But maybe if they were lucky, the girl would lead them to the killer. And hopefully she could do so before he realized he had left a witness behind.
19
Quantico
Maggie had been at her desk computer for almost an hour when Turner tapped on her office door even though it was open.
“Don’t you have a husband expecting you at home?”
“You didn’t ask me that last night when you kept me out late.”
She wasn’t sure if black men blushed but from the shake of his head, she knew she’d zinged him. Isn’t that what colleagues did to each other? He and Delaney did it all the time.
“Whadya know. O’Dell has a sense of humor,” he said it as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
She smiled at that.
“But seriously, O’Dell, you’re starting to make the rest of us look bad.”
“I’ve been searching ViCAP.” The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program was essentially a database that recorded and analyzed violent crimes, allowing investigators access to track killers with similar M.O.s. “Two victims with missing body parts within days of each other and within—what would you say—a hundred miles of each other?”
“You’re thinking of the woman hiker missing her toe?” Turner finally seemed interested.
“Yes.”
“But that thing in the trailer,” he grimaced. “We don’t even know what all that mess is yet.”
“I had one of the crime scene techs email a photo. I’m pretty sure it’s a spleen. Maybe a liver.”
“Do you know for sure that’s even human? Calves livers are pretty disgusting. Probably more so after being in a heated trailer for over twenty-four hours.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s human.”
“So where did it come from? That dude hanging from the ceiling looked stabbed. I don’t think he was sliced open.”
“How could you tell with all the maggots?”
He shrugged. “True. Guess Wenhoff will let us know. Did you get any hits at ViCAP?”
“Not in Virginia. But there was something interesting in Massachusetts. The Boston area. About three months ago. A truck stop off Interstate 95. Someone found what they believe was a lung. It was left in a brown paper bag outside the restroom.”
“Holy crap! How come we never heard about that?”
“They’ve never found a body. ViCAP notes that it could have come from an organ donor facility. Warns that it could have been a prank.”
“That’s some frickin’ prank.”
“Isn’t that missing councilwoman from the Boston area?”
“Could be. I don’t remember.” He pushed himself off the doorjamb. “Seriously, O’Dell, it’s been a long day. You need to go home. Get some rest.”
She promised him she would. But as soon as he left, Maggie started another search. Property taxes would tell her the last name of Uncle Lou and Aunt Beth. Finding out more about them could help lead them to their killer. This wasn’t like the other cases she had worked on. The long distance ones. She wasn’t just obsessed with figuring out the puzzle and solving the mystery. This was different. There was an urgency. She could feel time slipping away, causing her pulse to race and her brain to throb. She felt a sense of obligation to the little girl named Katie. She knew what it was like to lose a father. Not just lose him, but tragically.
That wasn’t all. O’Dell had tracked enough killers to know that as soon as this one discovered he left behind a witness, he would be back.
20
Washington, D.C.
Cunningham had gotten an update from Agent Delaney, so he knew that Dr. Patterson had arrived hours ago. He was pleasantly surprised, however, to see one of Geller’s deputies already stationed outside of Katie’s room. He flashed his I.D. at the man and they exchanged only a nod.
He tapped on the door and eased it open slowly, coming in quietly. Gwen glanced up at him from a chair beside the bed. The girl was asleep.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said as he ran his fingers through his damp hair. He’d gone back to Quantico to take a shower and change clothes. He needed to get the smell of that trailer off of his body.
“Has she said anything?” he asked.
“She hasn’t woken up. They had to sedate her before I arrived.”
He came all the way into the room before he noticed Gwen’s dress. Actually it was her bare feet that his eyes caught sight of first. She had one foot tucked under her, pulling up her skirt and revealing enough of her thigh to be distracting.
“I pulled you away from a special evening.”
She looked surprised that he would even notice. There was very little he didn’t notice about Gwen Patterson.
She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Which made Cunningham think it was, in fact, a big deal.
“I owe you one,” he told her and caught her eyes to make sure she knew he was sincere.
There was a groan and movement from the bed. The girl’s eyes started to flutter open.
Cunningham looked to Gwen and she put a finger up to stop him where he stood. Then she sat up and leaned in. She touched the girl’s hand and waited a second.
“Hi Katie.”
The girl’s eyes darted around the room. She noticed the IV, saw the needle in the back of her hand. Panic sat her up and Gwen came out of the chair, calming her with gentle but firm hands on her shoulders.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital but you’re okay.”
The girl’s head swiveled, taking in the surroundings. She saw Cunningham and her eyes stayed on him. She recognized him.
“My daddy . . . he fell in the river. You went to look for him.”
Cunningham looked to Gwen for instruction. She nodded her head, indicating it was okay for him to tell the girl. He wished they had had a chance to discuss this. He didn’t know how to say it, but he wouldn’t lie.
“We found your dad in the river, Katie.”
The girl sat completely up. Gwen rubbed her shoulder and back. Cunningham realized she was keeping her hands close in case she needed to hold the girl down. They didn’t want Katie to jump out of the bed and rip the needle out of her hand. But the girl seemed to be taking it well.