by David Archer
Gabriella shrugged and looked at her. “There has to be some kind of connection,” she said. “Otherwise, why would the same person come after me and them? I wonder if I used to know them.”
Tina looked at her for a moment, then reached over and picked up the tablet Pete had left on the table. She switched to a browser and went to Gabriella’s Facebook account, then started scrolling through her friends list. After a moment, she looked up and grinned.
“You’re not connected on social media,” she said. “With the way the world is nowadays, just about everybody is on Facebook. I thought it was hilarious a couple months ago when my grandmother sent me a friend request.”
Gabriella looked at her curiously. “And, what is Facebook?”
The rest of them burst out laughing.
* * *
Chance, Pete and Roberts had driven out to the Smith house in Chance’s Charger, and they were on the way back when Roberts’ phone rang. She pulled it out of the clip on her belt and looked at it, then put it on speaker as she answered. “Agent Roberts,” she said. “Jim?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Special Agent Jim McCord said. “I picked up a little information I thought you might like to know about. You still with Reddick and company?”
“Yes, we’re in the car. What did you find?”
“Well, another hit came in on the BOLO we put out on the van the kidnapper used. That van was involved in a minor accident the day before yesterday, hit by a moving car while it was parked at the gas pumps at a convenience store. The woman driving the van didn’t want to call the police and said she wasn’t worried about the damage, but the other lady turned it in to her insurance anyway. When the insurance company ran the tag number off the van, it flagged on our BOLO and we got a call. I checked with the convenience store to see if they had security video, and we got lucky, because they do. The whole thing was caught on video, and I'm on the way out there now to get a copy. With any luck, we might have a picture of your kidnapper.”
“Yes!” Chance said. “At last, we get a break.”
“Don’t get excited yet,” McCord said. “I just wanted to let you all know it was a possibility. Where you at?”
“Corner of Tropical and Fifth. Where’s the gas station?”
“Head south. Fifth and Ann Road. I’ll be there in about ten minutes, so you might beat me.”
“See you there,” Roberts said. She looked at Chance, who was driving, while she had the shotgun seat. “Straight ahead, about a half mile.”
“You got it,” Chance said. “About damn time something went in our favor on this case.”
As McCord had predicted, they got there before he did. Roberts flashed her ID and the clerk on duty was more than happy to take her back to the manager’s office, where the manager himself already had the video pulled up on his computer.
“I'm Special Agent Roberts, FBI. My partner will be here in a few minutes, but can you go ahead and show us what you got?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the manager said. He was a short, heavyset fellow, and it was easy to see that he thought Roberts was quite attractive. He kept looking over his shoulder and smiling at her while he pointed at the monitor. “I stopped it where it got the best look at the woman who was driving the van,” he said. “That’s her, right there.”
All four of them leaned down to look at the monitor. The manager had blown up the image as far as he could, but all they could really see was a woman with long, dark hair. Some of it hung in such a way that it concealed at least part of her face, but at least it was a photograph. Someone who knew her might possibly be able to recognize her from it.
On the screen, they could see the old Ford Aerostar sitting at the gas pumps, and another car had backed into its front bumper. A shorter lady was looking at the one they were interested in, apparently discussing the minor accident.
McCord came in as they were staring at the monitor. He joined them and the manager had to lean out of the way so that he could see, as well.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Think it will help?”
“It’s a damn sight better than nothing,” Chance said. “Any hope you can get a hit on facial recognition from that?”
Roberts shrugged. “We can try, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” She looked at the manager. “Play the video, would you? Let’s see if we can get a better look at her face.”
The manager shrugged and hit a button on the keyboard. The video began to play, but the rest of it either showed the woman only from the back or not at all. The only point at which her face was visible on camera at all was the one he had shown them, as she was talking to the other woman before getting back into the van.
“She didn’t come inside?” Chance asked.
“No, sir,” the manager said. “She paid at the pump. I already thought of that, and I printed out the transaction for you. That’s her credit card number, right there.”
Roberts took the print out from him. “Is it possible for you to make us a copy of that video? And can you print out the picture you showed us at first?”
“Already did both,” the man said, beaming. He picked up a couple of pages and handed them to her, then added a CD. “The video is just MP4, and that’s all my computer can do. I printed the picture out twice because it was a little dark the first time, so I lightened it.”
The printed photo was considerably larger than what they had seen on the screen, and gave a little bit more detail. Roberts pointed at a blurry spot on the woman’s forehead. “Does that look like a scar to you guys?”
McCord nodded. “It sure could be. Identifying mark, maybe. Want me to take it back and run it through the system?”
Roberts handed him one of the print outs. “This will probably be the best one to try facial recognition on. I’ll take the other one and get it sent out to law enforcement. She’s probably long gone by now, but we’ll get it out to all law enforcement agencies within a couple hundred miles, just to be safe.”
“Okay,” McCord said. “What about the video?”
“Let’s let Josie get hold of that,” Pete said. “Might be surprised what she can pull out of it.”
Roberts looked at her and grinned. “I'm not sure too much about you people would surprise me, anymore. Okay, I’ll take that with us. Jim, I’ll have Mrs. Dixon send you a copy by email.”
McCord nodded and left the building, got back into his car and drove away. Roberts followed Chance and the others back to his car, and they got back on the road toward the office again.
“Remind me not to stop at that gas station,” Roberts said. “At least, not without making sure my gun is loaded.”
* * *
Before they got back to the office, a call came in asking them to put in an appearance at the substation. Tina and Jake were already headed there, so Chance changed lanes and got on the expressway. Gabriella would stay at the office with Josie.
When they arrived, they were taken directly to the command center. Commander Motley and the two detectives were waiting there, along with Jake and Tina, who had just arrived.
Station Commander Motley looked up as they entered, but his face seemed somber.
“Thanks for coming,” he said. “We’ve been talking over some things about this case, and came to a conclusion that we think might be important.”
“Very important,” Jason said. “We were going over all the stuff you said about how our killer might be looking for a particular woman, and that this woman would fit the same general profile as the victims. Isn’t that right?”
Jake nodded. “I believe so, yes,” he said. “The fact that all of the victims have some sort of depression problem indicates that her original target—that’s the woman she really wants, but tends to stay away from—probably has similar issues of her own.”
Pete was looking at the detectives, who seemed a bit nervous. “Gentlemen? Are you thinking you may have some idea who the original target could be?”
"Well, maybe… I don’t really know for sure." Lew
is glanced at his partner, who nodded encouragingly. "I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry," he muttered, more to himself. "We're just a bit worried about my daughter, Angela. You met her the other day. She…"
"You could say Jake described her just about perfect just now," Jason said, interrupting his partner.
"What?" Tina asked. “You think Angela could be the woman she’s after?”
"She's twenty-three years old, studied hard at high school to get a scholarship to the university here. She graduated top of her class and holds two PhDs, but she works as a teacher's assistant in the university. She spends a lot of time in and out of the libraries, and practically lives in Caffeine Alley, and that’s been the case ever since she started out at the university as a student," Lewis explained. “If the killer is hunting at the library and that coffee shop, she’s right in his sights most of the time.”
"And what about her depression?" Pete asked. Again, the detectives exchanged a look. "I realize this is something you probably consider private and personal, but it is important to get all the facts."
"Well, yeah, she has something, uh… similar." Lewis rubbed the back of his neck.
"She's got something called situational depression," Jason said. “She becomes extremely depressed under certain circumstances, and never seems to be able to fight it off. Most of the time she seems to be okay, but when it hits, it’s like—it’s like she just gives up.”
"Like the last victim?" Chance asked.
"Not quite," Jason said. "I mean, sort of. It's similar."
"Situational depression usually involves rather severe feelings of unworthiness," Jake said, "that are triggered by specific events, like if someone yells at her, maybe. It can be triggered by almost anything that reminds her of the original situation that brought it on the first time. Everyone experiences some kind of depression during their lives, but people with situational depression tend to be far more devastated when it hits. People with this disorder can often suddenly, for no apparent reason they can discern, suddenly find themselves completely overwhelmed with the feeling that there’s no hope, and it can affect them in many different ways. They may withdraw into themselves, they may have uncontrollable bouts of sadness or crying, or they may become nauseous, it’s different for everyone. Most doctors believe that it’s a purely psychological problem, rather than an imbalance of chemicals in the brain; they consider it just a reaction to an outside event, but there haven’t been any truly conclusive studies that can actually say what causes it."
Jake thought about Angela and how perfectly it seemed to fit. Everything he didn't understand about the woman was suddenly clear to him. It suddenly made sense why her father seemed to be so protective of her, why she was constantly spending time at the substation, and even why the sheriff himself put up with it.
"She does seem to check all the boxes," Pete said, “so you could be right. She could very well be in danger. Even if she's not the killer’s actual target, she would definitely fit as a potential future victim. We should bring her in to the substation, just to be safe."
"I'll give her a call, she might still be at work," Lewis agreed.
"I think she's already here," Jason said. “I thought I saw her going into the conference room just a little while ago.”
"She likes to do some of her work in there," Lewis said, nodding. He started to make his way toward the conference room that he knew all too well. Before he could get too far, he was stopped by one of the uniformed deputies.
"Oh, Lewis, there you are," the deputy said. "Angela wanted me to tell you that she got a ride home with one of her friends."
"What? She’s gone?"
"Yeah, she left about half an hour ago."
"Thanks," Lewis said absentmindedly before turning back to the group and pulling out his phone.
"Angela's gone home?" Jason asked. Lewis nodded, already dialing the number. "So she's home alone?" Another nod from Lewis as he put the phone to his ear. "Dammit!" Jason exclaimed, causing the group of investigators to stare at him.
The phone rang three times before Angela answered on the other side.
“Hello?” she answered.
"Angela, what are you doing home alone?" Lewis immediately demanded.
“Well, gee, Dad, I happen to live here, remember?” she responded jokingly.
"Don't joke about this. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be there alone right now, not with a killer on the loose out there!"
“Oh, come on, Dad,” she responded, sounding surprisingly irritated. “Do you honestly think there’s really any kind of chance that out of all the people in Clark County with depression, this nutcase woman is gonna decide to come after me? I really think the odds are in my favor, don’t you?”
"Look, Jason and I are going to come get you, okay? We need you at the substation, where we can keep you safe."
“Daddy—”
"Don’t even try it, Angela," Lewis interrupted any excuse she could have come up with. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Excuse me?”
"Honey, we all think you might be in danger," Lewis said. “We just don’t want to take any chances.”
“Oh, fine, then,” she said, obviously frustrated.
"Jason and I will be there in a few minutes, okay? Just sit tight."
“Yeah, fine. Look, Daddy, I…”
Whatever Angela was going to say was immediately interrupted by a loud scream, apparently coming from her.
Lewis held the phone away from his ear, the scream on the other end loud enough to draw the attention of everyone around him.
"Angela? Angela! Answer me!" Lewis yelled back into the phone, but there was no response. Jason had wasted no time, jumping to his feet and heading toward the door. Lewis turned away from the investigators and ran to the exit, hot on the heels of his partner. Chance, Jake, Pete and Agent Roberts were just as quick to react to the detectives’ quick departure, chasing after them.
By the time they got to Chance’s car, the detectives were already racing away from the substation, sirens screaming and lights flashing. The team quickly jumped into their cars and followed, hoping every second that they weren't going to be too late.
Chapter 15
In four different cars, three of which had their sirens blazing, they made their way to a little house twenty minutes away in the desert. Lewis’s car screeched to a halt in front of it, leaving him barely enough time to slam it into park before he and Jason ran out, leaving the engine of the car still running. Station Commander Motley, in his own car, was right behind them, and he left his engine running as well. Chance’s high-powered Dodge Charger was next, followed by Tina’s Chevy sedan. All of them bolted from their vehicles and hurried inside.
Lewis had the decency to knock on the door first, hoping in vain that there would be an answer. It was Jason who pushed his partner aside and kicked down the door, ignoring the damage he had done to it. The two detectives ran inside the house, and the sight before them made their hearts skip a beat. Angela was lying on the floor, blood running down from her forehead, motionless. They couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
"Angela!" Lewis cried in a hoarse and desperate voice that none of those present would ever forget for as long as they lived. Both men dropped instantly to Angela's side, immediately fearing the worst.
Jason reached a shaking hand toward Angela's wrist, desperate to find a pulse. Shaken as he was, he missed it, and panic began to set in.
"Angela, please," he started to beg. "Please, just answer me." She lay on the floor, just as motionless as she had before.
Lewis didn't dare touch his daughter, afraid he'd be greeted by cold skin. He just sat back and watched as his partner reached to pull Angela up to a sitting position. He watched as Angela's head flopped back, and grief began to rip him apart. He watched as Jason wrapped his arms around her and hugged her still body, crying as he did so.
This was the sight that the rest of them found when they got i
nside. Both of the detectives were at their breaking point, Commander Motley shocked and scared to even take a step closer than the front door. It only took one look for Pete to decide what to do.
“Tina, call an ambulance,” he said, and she snatched out her cell phone. She looked at it for a second, realized she had no signal and glanced around, then spotted the cordless phone laying on the floor. She picked it up and dialed 911, then carried it into another room so she could speak to the emergency operator.
Jake knelt down next to Jason. "Lay her back down," he said calmly. Jason simply looked at him, as if he were asking the impossible. "Lay her back down, I'm trying to help," the young investigator said again, more urgently this time. Carefully and gently, Jason did as told. He laid her back down on the floor and moved back so that Jake could get to her.
Jake quickly felt her neck for a pulse. It took him a couple tries, but finally he was greeted with a slow and steady pump.
"I got a pulse," Jake announced. "It's weak, but it's there." With those few words, the young investigator could feel all the grief vanish from the detectives. They all exhaled in relief and happiness. "I'm going to try to make the bleeding stop,” he said. “That seems to be the most pressing problem."
He brushed Angela's hair out of the way, hoping to get a better look at the cut that was causing the bleeding. As he did, however, he noticed something much more important. On the side of her neck was a puncture mark. Jake checked the cut on her forehead, making sure he was right, before turning to face the brothers again.
"She's been drugged," he told them. "I don't know with what, but if I had to guess, it'd be Oxy. I don't know how much she's been given, though. She could be overdosing right now for all I know."
"We need to get her to a hospital," Lewis managed to croak out.
"Tina's calling an ambulance," Pete said. “It should be here shortly.”
"Screw that, they'll never get here on time," Jason protested. "I'll take her myself—"