Profiling a Killer

by Nichole Severn

  He kept low as he crossed the lot, sidearm in hand, and maneuvered around to the south side of the building. No entry points. Not even a window low enough for him to pry open. Clearing the next corner, he studied the old docks on the west side and located another door. Broken glass from a beer bottle crunched under his weight as he closed in on the entrance. Abandoned slaughterhouse with an entry to miles of open water. It was the perfect location for teenagers to test parental boundaries and escape the pressures of life, but from the thin coat of dust on the cement and the lack of footprints under the large concrete overhang, he surmised no one had been here in quite some time.

  Doubt coiled low in his gut as he pressed his back against the wall. The killer could’ve taken Aubrey to any number of locations. If he was wrong, if he was too late... No. He shut down that line of thinking and tested the wide steel door. It swung open. Aubrey was alive. He had to believe that. She hadn’t forced herself back into his life to be ripped away.

  Humidity and an acid bite climbed down his throat as he stepped into the slaughterhouse. A combination of dirt, garbage and debris coated the floor in the large space. Exposed piping ran the length of the main room and groaned with the fight of the storm outside. Water trickled down along the walls from unrepaired holes in the roof, but there was no sign of Aubrey. Not yet. He crept through the darkness, shadows clawing closer, hiding corners and ambush points. Dozens of cement columns supported the failing structure, but it was the rusted machinery and lines of stalls that held his attention. Structured with drains, heavy machinery meant to dispose of livestock, and privacy, this place was the perfect location to dispose of a body.

  A hard thud echoed in his ears from the far side of the building, and Nicholas froze.

  “You’re not supposed to be here, Agent James.” The voice bounced off the walls, became part of the shadows. Footsteps reverberated through the darkness, each seemingly coming from a different direction. “You’re too late. Dr. Flood is already mine, and there is nothing you can do to save her.”

  His stomach soured. No. Not possible. He was going to find her. He was going to take her home. Nicholas couldn’t see a damn thing in here, but using his flashlight would only give away his position. “Why don’t you bring her out here so I can ask her myself?”

  The killer’s low laugh reached his ears.

  A hand shot out and wrapped around his weapon. An elbow connected with the sensitive tissue in his right cheek, and Nicholas stumbled back. The glass still embedded in his face screamed from the impact, but it wouldn’t stop him from reaching Aubrey. The outline ahead of him separated from the shadows. Nicholas launched forward, securing the bastard with both hands, and rocketed his forehead into the killer’s face. He tossed the man in his grip back into a large piece of machinery designed to haul livestock to the other side of the warehouse. “That’s for forcing her to be the one to find her sister’s body, you sick son of a bitch.”

  Dim sunlight penetrated through the boarded windows. A flash of a blade was all the warning he got as the killer struck out. Nicholas dodged the initial strike, but his boot caught on a piece of piping discarded on the floor, and he went down. Pain shot up through his back and elbows as his attacker arced the blade down fast. Catching the killer’s wrist mere inches from where the tip of the knife threatened to carve into him with one hand, Nicholas used his other to search for his weapon. His fingers brushed against solid metal a few feet away. A pipe. He latched on to the heavy tool and swung as hard as he could. The crunch of flesh and steel registered in his ears as the suspect rolled off him with a groan. Hiking one leg over the killer, Nicholas rolled to position himself above the man in the mask and raised the pipe. “Where is she? What did you do with her?”

  The killer swiped his leg up, wrapped it around Nicholas’s chest and slammed him into the floor. Faster than he thought possible, Aubrey’s abductor vanished into the shadows. The same low laugh pooled dread at the base of his spine as he struggled to catch his breath. “Do you know how long it takes the human body to bleed out from a nick in the exterior carotid artery, Agent James? Because Dr. Flood does.”

  Panic exploded through him. He shoved to his feet, clutching onto the pipe. “You cut her then left her to die alone.”

  “She’s stronger than I gave her credit for. It’d be a shame if you wasted time trying to handcuff me while she might still be alive.” The voice seemed farther away now, nearly imperceptible. “Ticktock, ticktock. Time is running out, Agent James.”

  Nicholas gripped the pipe, steel warming in his palm. The killer was giving him a choice. Arrest the bastard in arm’s reach or save Aubrey from bleeding out. But it wasn’t a choice at all. “I’m going to find you. You’re not going to get away with this.”

  The killer’s voice whispered from the darkness, “I already have.”

  * * *

  COLD.

  Her hand trembled against her neck as she applied pressure to the wound. A growing puddle of blood collected beneath her, and in the back of her mind Aubrey understood the more blood she lost, the sooner she’d go into shock, but she couldn’t stop fighting. Saliva thickened in her mouth and throat as she stared up at her feet, still secure with zip ties around her ankles. “You can do this.”

  Exhaustion seeped into her muscles and stole her energy drop by drop. Black veins bled into her vision. Her heart beat hard in her chest, trying to make up for the loss of volume. Breathing hard, she used the strength she had left to curl up, reaching as far as she could with her free hand, but it wasn’t enough. Muscle exertion increased the pressure on her lungs and intensified the headache at the base of her skull. She collapsed back with her head high above the cement floor. The chains protested above. Sweat built in her hairline as she relaxed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, but she wasn’t going to die here. She wasn’t going to let her sister’s killer get away with murder.

  She wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but she couldn’t wait around for him to watch her bleed out. Blood worked through her fingers, and Aubrey closed her eyes, tried to slow her pulse. She estimated she’d lost about five percent of her body’s blood supply, still well within acceptable limits before shock occurred. She had time. She just had to use it wisely and not overexert the precious energy she still had left. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she ignored the slight uptick of her heart rate and curled as fast as she could toward her feet. Her free hand brushed against the zip ties around her ankles, but her strength left as fast as she’d summoned it.

  A frustrated scream escaped her throat, and she fell back into her upside-down position. Kara’s killer had nicked her carotid artery. She was running out of time. It wouldn’t be fatal if she received medical attention in the next ten to fifteen minutes, but the added combination of being restrained and hung upside down accelerated her body’s output. Staring up toward her feet, she tried not to let the sway of the chains distract her. This wasn’t working. Without something to hold on to or someone to get her down, she couldn’t keep pressure on the wound and reach for the zip ties at the same time.

  The stain beneath her spread across the cement. Without the pressure against her neck, she’d bleed faster, but she had to risk it. Using both hands was the only way to reach her feet. After that...she wasn’t sure what would happen. The edges of her vision grew darker, and a crystal-clear image of the agent she’d pulled from the ocean materialized.

  Nicholas.

  He’d faced off with the killer in an attempt to save her and lost. She’d managed to get him breathing on that dock, but that didn’t guarantee he’d made it off the pier alive. Had she saved him at all? Her head and chest ached as her breathing shallowed. She had to get out of here. She had to make sure he and the rest of the BAU had survived. Aubrey released the pressure against her neck, her hand covered with her own blood. “Don’t pass out.”

  Summoning every last ounce of strength, she forced her upper body to ris
e and stretched both of her hands toward her feet. Her fingers brushed the edge of the zip ties around her ankles, and with a last burst of desperation, she grabbed on to the bind. Plastic cut into the bare skin around her ankles. Blood blossomed in a straight line and trickled down under her pant leg, but a few added drops wouldn’t throw her into shock. Using the zip ties to reach higher, she skimmed the solid steel hook securing her to the ceiling and clamped on. She sobbed with relief as she settled into the awkward fight of remaining upright. Blood rushed from her face and neck as she righted herself, but she still had to free herself from the hook without falling five feet onto cement headfirst.

  Dizziness blurred her vision as she notched one hand above the other on the hook. “Okay. Okay.” Her own words barely reached her ears as the world righted itself for the briefest of moments. She’d made it upright. She could use her weight to break the zip ties and swing her feet down. She adjusted her grip on the hook with damp palms. She climbed a bit higher and brought her knees to her chest. The edge of the zip ties angled down against the hook, but it still wouldn’t break with her added weight. “Come on.”

  She kicked her heels down as hard as she could. Once. Twice. Groaning through the tear of skin along the outsides of her ankles, she kicked down a third time. The zip ties broke, and her fingers slipped from around the hook. The spotlight distorted as she fell, and she hit the cement. Air crushed from her lungs. The crunch of bone ricocheted around her head. Pain exploded from her shoulder, ribs and neck. A silent scream ripped from her throat as she turned onto her side, but the spasm hadn’t released her lungs yet. Her stomach sucked in automatically as she battled to calibrate the damage then released.

  Oxygen charged down her throat and increased the agony tearing through her right side. Another scream escaped and combined with a nerve-racking sob. She curled in on herself, careful not to aggravate the guaranteed fractures to her scapula and right sternal ribs.

  Footsteps echoed off the barren walls and machinery stained with the odor of flesh and death. The killer? Straightening one arm, she pressed her palm into the floor and tried to pull herself to the edge of light given off by the spotlight. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and Aubrey forced herself to her feet. No. He wasn’t going to finish what he’d started. Keeping her right arm pressed against her chest, she stumbled to her feet and leaned forward, out of the spotlight and into the unknown.

  “Dr. Flood...” The voice came from the shadows.

  Aubrey pushed one foot in front of the other, one hand outstretched to keep herself from running into a wall or piece of machinery. Her body hurt. She was bleeding, but she had to get away from here. She couldn’t stop. Not until she found Nicholas and the rest of the BAU. Her ears rang. The footsteps were following her, and panic clawed through her. Glancing back, she recognized the outline of a man inspecting the circle of light where she’d been hung upside down to die, but she didn’t slow. Escape. Getting to Nicholas. That was all that mattered. Dim light penetrated through the dirt-caked windows and illuminated the long stretch of warehouse ahead of her. Tears burned down her face and clouded her vision, but she only pushed herself harder. She could do this. She was going to make it. He hadn’t spotted her yet.

  Blood pooled between her breasts the longer she exerted herself. Heightened heart rate increased the chances of blood loss, but she didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t going to be his masterpiece. Not like Kara. Not like Paige Cress. Her hair broke free of the tie and pasted to her face. Machinery obstructed a straightforward escape, and she wound around a massive machine in hopes she’d spot an escape on the other side. The tick of rain pierced through the thready pulse behind her ears. She followed the sound until her feet sliced through a puddle. There had to be an exit here somewhere. Anywhere. The roll of thunder seemed louder now, and a breeze wrestled to cool the sweat beading on her face. She was almost there. She could feel it, but her body had consumed the last bits of adrenaline. She was going to go into shock from blood loss and physical trauma.

  The room tilted to one side, and Aubrey slowed. She was as dizzy as a merry-go-round manatee. A laugh escaped past her lips. That had to be one of her best quotes. Falling into the wall on her uninjured side, she forced one foot in front of the other until she cleared the door leading out onto the back docks of the slaughterhouse. Relentless wind pushed her hair away from her face, and she clutched the cold steel of the railing leading down the ramp. Puget Sound protested against the raging storm, spitting salt water into her face. The shock to her nervous system cleared the fatigue pulling her down, but she couldn’t go any farther as the light-headedness intensified.

  She just needed to rest for a minute. Using the railing for balance, she slid to the ground and pressed her head against the vibrating metal. Her eyes fell closed as she clutched her right side with her uninjured hand.

  “Aubrey,” he said.

  Instant anxiety flooded through her, but she recognized that voice. Alert, insightful, soothing, it slid through her and chased back the fear knotting in her stomach. She tried to open her eyes to see Nicholas for herself, but she was so tired. She couldn’t run anymore, couldn’t hide. The killer was going to find her. He was going to turn her into his masterpiece. Just as he’d done with Kara.

  Another sob escaped her control. She’d thought she was ready for this, that she could bring down the man who’d murdered her sister. She’d tried to save Nicholas. She’d tried, but it hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t been enough, and now she was alone.

  Strong hands secured her against a wall of warmth, and she struck out, kicked, screamed, but the pain from the fractures in her scapula and ribs limited her motion. “No!”

  “Aubrey, it’s me. It’s Nicholas. I’m here. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe. He can’t get to you now.” The warmth disappeared, and she curled into the corner where two sets of railings met. He set something soft into her hand. “I promise not to touch you, but I need you to apply pressure to the wound on your neck. I won’t touch you. I’ll just wait with you until the ambulance gets here.”

  “Nicholas?” Was this real? His dark outline distorted through the batter of rain and dizziness. That intense green-blue gaze cleared through the haze, and then there was nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  Fractured shoulder blade. Two fractured ribs. Fifteen percent blood loss and a mess of stitches at her temple. Dr. Aubrey Flood had been through hell and survived. Nicholas wasn’t sure how, but she’d escaped being hung upside down and drained of blood in that slaughterhouse with mere minutes of consciousness left, and he’d nearly been too late.

  He memorized the pattern of bruising across the left side of her face as she slept through the sedatives her doctors had given her. A monitor on the other side of the bed tracked her heart rate while another administered blood to get her volume back up to normal levels. Pain pulsed in his jaw from a strike he hadn’t seen coming when he’d approached her on that dock. Along with the rest of him. It’d been obvious she’d started shutting down and going into shock, but he hadn’t been able to keep himself from touching her.

  Nicholas tried for the sixth—or was it the seventh—time to read through the crime scene report from the warehouse. They’d recovered the zip ties that’d secured Aubrey’s hands behind her back and kept her anchored to the hook by her feet. A good amount of blood tested positive for the medical examiner’s DNA on the patch of cement lit by a portable spotlight the killer must’ve brought in, but there was no sign of whoever’d abducted her. No matter how many times he’d read the report in front of him, none of it processed the way it was supposed to. All he saw was the scared, traumatized woman the son of a bitch had left behind. Lucky for him, Striker and West had made it out with nothing more than bruises and a mild concussion between them.

  The killer wouldn’t get another chance.

  “Aren’t you cuter than a chinchilla’s behind?” she asked.

  Setti
ng the report on the side table, he leaned forward in his seat. An immediate sense of relief replaced the anger burning through him, and he slid his hand beneath hers at the edge of the hospital bed. Nicholas scrubbed his free hand down his face. In all the years he’d investigated serial crimes for the BAU, he’d never sat beside a witness’s or victim’s bedside like this, but he couldn’t forget the fact she’d risked her life in order to save his. If it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve drowned out there at the pier. He had to remember that. “Hey, Doc. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  “Not sure I’m staying. Whatever they gave me is very nice.” Aubrey’s mouth curled slightly at one corner. Her fingers jerked in his hand, and she leveled honey-warm eyes on the spot where he held on to her. “I thought you were dead. I was trying to escape so I could save you.”

  His heart threatened to beat straight out of his chest. “You did save me. You pulled me from the water. My chest still hurts where you gave me CPR, but it’s nothing compared to the fact I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for you. I owe you my life.”

  “You’ve got something on your face.” A laugh rippled through her, and she groaned, presumably from the bone-deep pain of blunt-force trauma to her right side during her abduction. The sedatives had cleared any kind of filter from her thoughts and her mouth, and he couldn’t deny the amusement coiling through him at the sight. “Ouch.”

  Awareness prickled along the right side of his face. “Yeah. See, I had a little accident before you pulled me from the ocean and gave me mouth-to-mouth. The man who took you ground my face into a broken table. Nothing thirty-five stitches and a lifetime of battle scar stories can’t fix.”