Inside wallpaper hung in curled browning strips from walls punctuated by fist sized holes. The floor looked solid. I bounced on the balls of my feet a few times. No untoward creaking and I didn’t fall through. Good signs. We’d probably get in and out without anyone breaking a leg.
Sam led the way to the back of the empty house and bedroom four. He entered the room first followed by Conway.
I watched her disappear through the doorway; it seemed a matter of seconds before she was back followed by Sam.
“All right?”
She took a breath, looked me in the eye and said, “Come with me.”
I saw her weapon in her hand.
Sam leaned on the wall opposite the door. I noted his minimalist nod at Lee. Whatever it was he’d seen it too.
I followed Conway in.
On the floor on the far side of the bed lay a crumpled naked person covered in blood. As I approached I realized it was a woman. My gloved fingers touched her neck and found a pulse. It wasn’t great, but she had one.
“Lee, I need my bag!” I hollered, rolling the woman onto her back. She was covered in blood, the origin of which was difficult to determine. “Sam, call paramedics and get that scene guard in here!”
Both men yelled back affirmative responses and followed with pounding feet. Conway checked the room then vanished leaving me alone.
Outside the door I heard Conway call out to Sam and Lee, “Searching the premises. Check the perimeter.”
Reaching up to the bed and I pulled a blanket down to cover the woman. Noting there was zero evidence of restraint marks on her wrists or ankles as I covered her cold battered bloodied body.
I rubbed the woman’s shoulder.
“I’m an FBI agent, you’re safe. Can you open your eyes?”
Her eyes flickered.
“I’m a doctor. I’m just going to check your wounds.”
Lifting the blanket I wiped blood out of my way with my hand and inspected her wounds. Six stab wounds to her torso. None deep enough to be life threatening, blood loss wasn’t excessive but it was impressive. A little blood goes a long way.
My initial assessment centered on the possibility of her being drugged, which would account for her lack of response. We’d got here in time.
A thump followed by scuffling noises and a wooden bang. I looked toward the doorway.
“Conway!” I yelled. “Sam! Lee!”
Skirmish noises grew in volume. Skin on skin.
Every part of me wanted to go find Conway. My eyes rested on the unconscious woman.
Duty reared its head. I took a breath and reminded myself Conway was tough.
A groan followed another thump. Heavy footfalls echoed into the night.
“Agent down!” Conway hollered. “Doc …” Her voice faded.
Nothing made my blood freeze faster than Conway calling my name like that.
“Conway!” I scrambled to my feet, lifted my gun from my hip. Fuck duty. I hurried into the hallway trying to pinpoint the direction of her voice.
Lee ran toward me from the other end of the hall.
“Chicky? She all right?” He threw me my bag. I grabbed it with my left hand.
Ripping the zip open, I thrust a bunch of wound dressings at Lee and slung the bag back over my shoulder.
“Patch the woman up and stay with her,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll find Conway.”
The first room I came to was a bathroom. I shone my flashlight up and down the walls and in all the crevices.
Nothing.
There was small room across the hall.
Again nothing.
Breathing hard I opened another door.
Toilet.
Nothing.
At the end of the hall was a partially closed door.
I took a breath, held it, and flung the door open as I exhaled. The beam from my flashlight danced across the floor and walls. Looked like a family room or dining room with an open plan kitchen. No sign of anyone.
“Conway?”
“Over here,” she said.
Her voice came from the other side of the kitchen counter. Her body obscured from view.
“All right?” I asked hurrying around the counter. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against a cabinet door. I dropped my bag next to her.
“Yeah, I just love this place so much I thought I’d hang out here on the filthy floor,” she said, strain evident in her voice.
I shone my flashlight in her face. She winced and looked away. I smiled. She’s never liked bright lights in her face.
“And the real reason you’re sitting on the floor?” I moved the beam slowly down her body. “Never mind, I see it.”
“Thought you might,” she said. Her breathing was shallow and voice shaky. “I never got a clear look at him.”
“On the plus side, you know the Unsub is male. Keep very still,” I said, inspecting the hilt and blade of the knife sticking out of Conway’s side. “It’s low and about an inch and half of blade is still visible, might have missed everything vital.”
“Good news,” Conway said, through clenched teeth. “You going to be long?”
“I’m not removing the knife until I have you in hospital.”
“Okay.”
I took scissors from my bag. She grimaced but said nothing as I cut her shirt away from the edge of the blade so I could see what was going on.
“Sorry. We’ll move you with your new adornment in place. I’ll pack around it, don’t want the knife moving.”
“Yeah, thanks, I imagine that would hurt.”
I’d imagine so.
From my bag I took out some thick packs of gauze and some surgical tape.
“Breath. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
She closed her eyes. I packed the gauze around the exposed knife blade. A minute or so later I was done. Lee cast a large shadow across the kitchen in the moonlight.
“Hey, the woman okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, still out of it, might be a blessing,” Lee replied. “Chicky?”
“I’m okay,” Conway replied with a half a smile. “Might just sit here for a bit though.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Lee said. “You go to Sam, Kurt. He’s got the scene guard and is waiting with the woman. Paramedics are on the way.”
“She’s not to move or try to move,” I said to Lee. “Got that Conway? Stay put.”
“Uh huh.”
“I mean it,” I said, employing my stern voice. It usually made her laugh. Not tonight. “Where’s your phone?”
“Left pocket,” she replied.
I slipped my hand into her jacket pocket and gave her the phone.
“Call Mitch. Have him meet you at the Emergency Department.”
I left the room.
Sam and the scene guard were waiting with the unconscious woman. I paused as approached them and called Sean O’Hare, directly.
He answered on the fourth ring and did not sound like I’d woken him.
“What’s up Kurt?”
“I’m at a crime scene, one guarded by your company. Someone either got past your guy or your guy is complicit in a violent crime.”
Two beats of dead silence.
“Give me the address. I’m on my way.”
I did, then hung up and carried on into the room.
Sam’s face filled with unasked questions, he rolled them all into one. “Chicky Babe?”
“She’ll be fine,” I said, well aware that earlier in the evening Sam had issues with one of the scenes and a memory from the past. I turned my attention to the scene guard. He stood at parade rest, giving the appearance of calmness. But he was anything but calm. “Name?”
“Cory White,” he replied.
“Your boss is on his way. Do you want to wait or talk to us now?”
“Talk.”
“What happened in here?”
He shook his head then refocused. Looking right at me. “I have no idea. I walked through the scene twice tonight. Two hou
rs apart. I do a circuit of the grounds at random intervals.”
“Last time you walked through?”
He took his notebook from his pocket and read from it. “An hour and a half ago.”
Our Unsub is getting bolder. Maybe he gets off knowing he could be caught at any moment. Could he have watched us enter crime scenes? Was this for us?
“And the grounds?”
“Half an hour, I didn’t see anything. No lights or anything that suggested someone was in here.”
I walked over to the window and looked at the curtains. Running my fingers along the bottom edge until I found a tag. I read it. Blackout curtains.
Clever. Well-planned.
“Cory, anyone been hanging around here?”
“No. Anyone coming by more than once would be obvious. There is no through traffic, this street goes nowhere.”
“Anyway to access the property from the back?”
“This side of the street backs onto a wooded area beyond that is a park. It’s possible.”
Did the Unsub carry a woman through a park and woods without making a noise? No through traffic. No traffic noise to mask activity.
I looked at the woman under the blanket.
“Sam, where are her clothes?”
I doubted he carried a naked woman. If he’d been stopped that would’ve been harder to explain than maybe saying his girlfriend was drunk.
“Good question.”
Sam searched the room. In a laundry hamper he found clothes. “These could be them. I’ll bag them.”
“Also, make a note. The other scenes, laundry hampers. The bodies were all naked according to the report I have.”
Sam nodded.
A siren pierced the still night air. A dog barked.
“That’ll be for us,” Sam said hurriedly bagging the clothes and heading for the door. “I’ll bring ‘em in.”
“Sir?” Cory said attracting my attention.
“Yes.”
“Are your agent and the lady going to be okay?”
“Yes. The lady probably will have zero memory of what happened. Agent Conway will be fine.”
She’ll remember every detail like she always does. I made a mental note to update my records regarding the teams need for therapist to be attached to the unit.
No way would Sam or Conway talk to an outsider, but if I could bring someone in and make them part of Delta?
Noises in the hallway interrupted my thought train. Probably a good thing. I wasn’t the sole SSA.
I’d have to convince Conway to get a therapist attached to us or enlist our SAC’s help in convincing Conway that the therapist idea is a good one. She was infamously resistant to any form of counseling or psycho-babble bullshit as she liked to call it.
* * *
It was after four before I opened my front door and dropped my keys in the dish on the hall table. Mail sat unopened in a letter rack. I flicked through four envelopes. Bills. Nothing that couldn’t wait a few days. I took my jacket off, slinging it over my arm while I loosened my tie and undid the top button on my shirt, and rolled my shoulders to release some tension.
On the way to my room I stopped in and checked on Olivia. The nightlight glowed on the wall. She slept, serenely. I tucked the covers around her little shoulders, stooped down and kissed her cheek. She murmured as she rolled over taking the blankets with her.
Eyes watched me. I felt them. I looked at the door way. Rachel leaned on the door frame, sleepy, smiling.
I joined her. “Did I wake you?” I whispered and kissed her softly.
“No, I wasn’t really asleep.”
Together we watched Olivia sleep for a few minutes. She filled me with peace. Arm in arm we went to our room. I hung up my jacket and tie.
“Quick shower then I’ll answer your questions,” I said to Rachel, correctly reading her expression.
“I’ll try to stay awake,” she replied with a smile.
The shower felt good on my aching muscles.
I did try to leave the day at the door and not let it encroach on family time, not always successfully though.
Some days stuck harder and longer than others. The new case was sticky. The hot water helped me ditch the stress of the day but nothing removed the knife I saw stuck in Conway or the sound of her voice when she called my name. Nightmare material.
Rachel lay in our bed watching me as I moved around the room.
“Still awake,” I said climbing under the covers.
“Was it very bad?” she asked, as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Her hand lay open on my stomach. Warmth from her fingers spread through me.
“Not the best day.”
“How much longer before Claude takes over Delta B again?”
“Too long.”
“Tired?”
“Yes. I’m tired. It was a long day.” A yawn escaped. Yes, I was tired.
“Did you operate on Ellie?”
“You know I did.” I wondered for a minute where the conversation was leading.
“Was it very bad?”
“Being stabbed is seldom good. This could’ve been worse.” I brushed hair from her eyes. “It’s late. You need to sleep.”
“So do you,” she murmured. “Will she be all right?”
“Yes.”
Images of Conway sleeping in her hospital bed, and Mitch snoozing in a chair next to her filled my head, she looked peaceful. I’d managed to get away with only local anesthetic, which was great. She’d have to rest up for a few days and take antibiotics for ten days but apart from that she was fine. Rachel’s voice interrupted my thoughts. Probably a good thing.
“The news is saying there is a serial killer.”
“I heard that too.”
“Kurt?”
I held her tighter. “It’s possible.”
She tipped her head back and looked at me. “They’re right aren’t they?”
“It looks like it.” I held her closer. “Sleep.”
My eyes refused to stay open any longer.
***
Something soft hit me in the head twice. I opened an eye. It whacked me again. Behind the brown fur I saw Olivia.
“Daddy!”
“Olivia. Don’t hit daddy with Mr. Bear,” I mumbled rubbing my face and sitting up. “Where’s Mommy?”
“Making breakfast,” Olivia replied scrambling up onto the bed and then wrapping her arms around my neck.
I smiled and hugged her, eventually she wriggled away, resting her head on the pillow next to mine. Her hand rubbed the side of my face.
“Prickly,” she said screwing her nose up.
“Daddy needs a shave,” I replied. Among other things. Other things would have to wait. “Go find Mommy and get your breakfast.”
Olivia pouted. “I want to stay with you.”
“Daddy needs to get ready for work now. I’ll be out soon.” Her pout increased. “I need you to do something for me. It’s important.” The pout lessened.
“Do what?” Olivia asked unable to continue the pouting.
“Ask Mommy if I can have smiley face pancakes?”
A smile beamed from her little face. She bounced off the bed and disappeared with Mr. Bear in tow leaving me smiling. If only Delta B were so easy. A sigh dropped into the bedclothes and vanished. I hit the shower. Fifteen minutes later I joined Rachel and Olivia at the breakfast table.
A stack of smiley face pancakes sat on a plate in the middle of the table. The eyes and smile made from blueberries. Like Conway always said, ‘we can’t guarantee when we’ll be back’, so when I was here, we did breakfast.
My phone already rang four times while I showered, I’d heard it above the running water. There would be voice mail waiting for after breakfast. It rang again while we were eating. Rachel waited to see if I’d answer it or not. I didn’t.
Breakfast continued. Olivia chattered. Rachel and I did our best to keep up with her conversation jumps. It’s not always easy following the conver
sation leaps made by a preschooler.
A knock at the door interrupted a slide into the latest song she’d learned at daycare.
“I’ll get it,” I said, pushing my chair back as I stood. My hand brushed Rachel’s shoulder as I left the room. She couldn’t hide her unhappiness at the intrusion to family time.
From the hallway I could see the silhouette of the door knocker through the frosted glass panel in the front door. Rachel would be less impressed when she knew it was Conway at the door.
Work.
Always work. I could hear Rachel in my head admonishing me for working such long hours. To her credit she rarely complained about the amount of time I spent with Conway. I knew she didn’t like it but she accepted it as part of the job.
I swung the door open.
“Sorry, something’s come up and you’re not answering your voice mail,” Conway said with a smile. “It’s important.”
“You feeling okay? Who discharged you?”
She grinned at me. “I’m fine, Kurt. I discharged myself about an hour ago.”
I sighed. Not surprised though, I didn’t expect her to hang around the hospital with the sick and injured. She’s always been better at denying injury and illness than accepting it and letting time and rest heal her body.
“What’s so important that landed you on my doorstep?”
“You think this case can chug along without us?”
Not really. Not with Delta B being so damn special.
“Do I have a choice?”
She shook her head then nodded slightly.
“Kinda. A call came in from Oregon. They’re asking for our help.”
“This case is messy. I need hands on deck. Who’ll run this?”
“I know, this is messy. Caine is stepping in. I’ve arranged for Kris and Jerry to stand in. They’ve worked with us before. They’re quick learners. You know them.”
“From SWAT?”
The Thrill List Page 16