Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Duncan’s smile grew wider. “I’ve got nothing to hide, from you or anyone else. If you’re scared, or ashamed, maybe you should take up knitting.”

  Duncan turned his back on them and followed Chelsea into the kitchen. She was pouring more wine, so didn’t notice him until he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. As he pressed himself in close, she gave a small giggle and pushed her ass toward him. Then she turned and kissed him furiously. Duncan reciprocated, the kiss fueled by anger and devoid of passion. This was work, but it disgusted him. He felt sick.

  They kissed for a minute, pressing their bodies in close. Duncan knew if he wanted her, he could have her right now. Even with her friends in the other room, there’d be no resistance from Chelsea. But Duncan was counting on a fight on another front. Letting out a low growl, he nibbled Chelsea’s lower lip and squeezed her tighter, feeling her tense at his touch. After she let out a small sigh of satisfaction, Duncan released her and took a step back.

  “What’s wrong, Dan?” Chelsea frowned and looked at him, confusion in her eyes. “Why did you stop?”

  “Well, your friends are out there…” Duncan’s voice trailed off and he cast a glance over his shoulder, toward the living room. “They don’t want me here.”

  “So?” Chelsea’s tone carried a hint of outrage and disbelief. “Why do you care what they think? They all have their fun, now it’s my turn!”

  Duncan shrugged. “Sorry. They told me to leave you alone. I don’t want to do anything while they’re here. There’s no rush.”

  “Like fuck there’s not!” She exhaled forcefully, grabbed the bottle of wine and stormed past him.

  Duncan smiled to himself, then followed Chelsea to the living room. No one was speaking, but Duncan could feel the hostility radiating off all of them. Duncan reached out and wrapped his arm around Chelsea from behind. She pressed into him, turned and kissed him deeply. He felt bile rise from the pit of his stomach.

  He could almost feel the steam coming off Chelsea’s friends. Duncan had counted on their outrage, but on its own he knew it wasn’t enough. The only way to wedge Chelsea from her friends was for her to make the decision herself. Chelsea was the spark and her friends were the powder keg. All Duncan had done was prepare the fuse.

  “You’re an idiot, Chelsea.” One of her other friends spoke up for the first time. “He’s not discreet enough. He’s going to blow up your marriage.”

  “Oh fuck off, Amber!” Chelsea’s voice was full of venom. “I don’t need to be judged by you! You fuck whoever you want, so why can’t I?”

  Duncan wanted to smile, but instead he stepped away from Chelsea. “Look, maybe it’s best if I leave.”

  “No!” Chelsea’s voice was a low rumble, a thunder that surprised Duncan and seemed to shock her friends as well. “I’ve had enough of this.”

  There were unspoken messages beaming back and forth between the women. Duncan kept his face passive and his emotions calm as Chelsea turned, took his hand and led him in the direction of the bedroom. Behind him, he could hear her friends scoff with disgust. Duncan knew the spark had lit the fuse; he just hoped it’d be enough to ignite the powder keg. He really didn’t want to have to fuck her. He needed her friends to react.

  “That’s it, Chels, we’re done!” Joanne’s shout confirmed it. “I hope this jerk fucks you like crazy, because you’re not going to have a marriage at the end of it.”

  “You won’t know!” Chelsea’s shout was so loud Duncan winced, even as they both slumped onto the bed. “You’re not welcome here anymore! You’ll never see me again!”

  Duncan almost laughed. How right she was. He squeezed Chelsea tightly until he heard the door slam, then let go and looked at her. “Sorry about that.”

  “Fuck them.” She shook her head, clearly stunned that her best friends had just walked out. “I’m just happy to be spending more time with you.”

  “I have to go, unfortunately.” He stood up from the bed. “It’s been fun though. I’ll call you.”

  “I just stuck up for you!” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re going to bail for the night?”

  Duncan shrugged. Turning to walk away, he flinched as a stiletto flew past his head, wondering if her aim would’ve been better if she wasn’t drunk. He almost laughed at the beauty of it. He’d destroyed her relationship with her dearest friends. It was the first thing he’d taken from her. She deserved it, given how easy it had been to get her to betray her husband.

  He doubted it was the first time, either.

  The job would get harder from here on, but Duncan was confident he could pull it off. Behind him, her sobs were loud and heaving, almost irresistible, but he didn’t look back. He did pause near the front door when, out of nowhere, her small dog – Kenny – barked and wagged his tail. Duncan opened the door and commanded it to come.

  As he rode the elevator down and into the night, the small dog followed him.

  15

  Chris

  “Goddamn it.” Chris pulled his hand back. His latex glove had a cut in it and his thumb had a nasty gash.

  He sucked the wound and the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth. Chris shook his head. The knife that’d cut him was now a tainted murder weapon, his own blood added to the victim’s because of his own carelessness. A bit of forensic magic would take care of it, but he wasn’t usually that sloppy. His mind hadn’t been on the job since the meeting with his superiors, and he was struggling to focus on the current murder scene.

  “Chris, come on man, can you get back to planet Earth?” Manny kicked the dirt, the disgust in his voice clear. “You need to stop fucking up the evidence?”

  “Sorry.” Chris looked at his partner. The displeasure on his face was clear, and Chris couldn’t blame him. “I’ve been a shitty partner lately.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Manny sighed and jerked a thumb toward the body. “Look, I know he hasn’t got red hair, but this dead old homeless guy deserves your best effort.”

  Manny’s words were like a slap to the face. They hurt more than the blows Chris’s superiors had rained down on him at their last meeting. “Manny, I’m fine, honestly.”

  “No, you’re not.” Manny put his hands on his hips and fixed Chris with a stare. “You need to see a psychologist, or I’m telling Nowitski what you’re up to.”

  “Wha—”

  “The night stakeouts, Chris.” Manny almost spat the words. “I’m not stupid. I know what you’ve been doing, and what led to the manhunt. You need to speak to someone.”

  Chris almost told Manny to shove it, but he clamped his jaw shut. There was nobody who could hurt an FBI agent like their partner. They knew all the dirt. Manny knew he’d been staking out houses of potential victims. If his superiors found out, he’d be through. They were furious about the manhunt, but they hadn’t linked it to his other activity. There was only one thing Chris could say that’d satisfy Manny.

  “Fine.” Chris crossed his arms.

  Manny smiled. “Great. I’ll work this case while you do.”

  Chris was about to speak when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He scowled at Manny and turned to see a suited blonde woman standing behind him with a smile on her face. He knew who she was, and it was no coincidence that she was here. Manny must have planned it. There was no other reason for a psychologist to be at a murder scene. He felt like a fly that’d been swatted against a wall.

  “Agent Horan?” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Catherine Williams. I’m a psych with the Bureau.”

  “I know who you are.” Chris looked down at her hand, ignored it, and turned to Manny. “You’re going to cost me my job.”

  Manny scoffed. “You’re doing a fine job of that yourself, Chris. Talk with her or I’m calling Nowitski right now.”

  “Let’s walk.” Chris’s invitation to Williams had little warmth, and he didn’t wait for her to respond. He started to walk away from the crime scene and she fell in beside him.

 
; “Your case seems messy.” Williams cut to the chase. “But I don’t get the feeling that’s what’s on your mind.”

  Chris hesitated, wondering how much Manny had told her. He’d agreed to talk to the woman, not to tell her his life story. “It’s tough at the moment.”

  She seemed to choose her words carefully. “I’ve been dealing with agents in difficult situations for years, Chris. Everything you say to me is private.”

  Chris stopped walking and turned around, looking her right in the eyes. She clearly recognized the source of his hesitation, and had a strategy to deal with it. Cops weren’t the most trusting lot, but Williams knew that and came to work anyway. He needed to tell her enough to satisfy her and Manny that he was okay.

  “Look,” Chris finally spoke, not taking his eyes off hers. “There are some murders I believe are connected. Others don’t agree. That’s it.”

  “Sometimes people don’t see what’s right in front of them.” Her gaze didn’t shift an inch. “On the other hand, sometimes people try to connect things that aren’t actually linked, to satisfy some deeper desire, or to create a narrative – a sense of order – where there’s really chaos and chance. We just need to figure out where you stand, Chris.”

  Chris frowned at that. She had a point. It was entirely possible there was a link and he’d spotted it. But it was also possible that his bosses were right. Maybe he was searching for some greater purpose, trying to fill the hole Tamara had left...

  Chris tightened his grip on the pistol as he peered into the kitchen. He’d been right, there was food cooking – some sort of soup – but there was no sign of Tamara. It was like she’d vanished from their tiny apartment, leaving all the signs of someone having been home. There was only one more place she could be, unless she had left food on the cooktop and gone out…

  Chris blinked. “What?”

  Williams had a hand on his shoulder. “You can trust me, Chris.”

  The kills were linked, he was sure of it, and bouncing his theories off someone under strict confidentiality probably wasn’t a bad idea. Catherine Williams seemed a fair, neutral, and intelligent sounding board. She seemed capable of offering an expert opinion and she’d keep her mouth shut. He kept his eyes on her for several more moments, then he sighed and decided to spill it all to her.

  As they strolled, he recounted it all – Tamara, all the murders of other redheads since, the links he suspected, the stakeouts, the manhunt and the latest warning he’d received. It felt as if the story had spewed out of his mouth almost involuntarily. She kept silent, merely nodding and making quiet noises of affirmation as he spoke. When he was finished he didn’t look at her. He waited.

  They walked a little further and then she finally spoke. “The link you see between the killings is possible, but so too is a mental construction.”

  “But—”

  She held up a hand. “You need to be careful. I’m seeing some of the same obsessive tendencies in you that you’re chasing in a serial killer.”

  “You’re saying I’m like the killer?” Chris flared. “Look, thanks for your time, but this was a mistake. I—”

  “I didn’t mean that as an insult.” She smiled. “I’m not saying you’re going to start murdering people. What I am saying is that you suffered incredible trauma. Your girlfriend had red hair. She was murdered. In the same city she died, more redheads have been murdered. You’re an agent who investigates murders. It’s only natural you see a link.”

  Chris gritted his teeth. “There is a link.”

  “It’s possible. You’re clearly hungry to catch this killer, all I’m saying is that there are many types of obsessives, Chris. It’s possible for anyone to have these obsessive tendencies, you included. You just need to maintain control, be aware of your impulses, and not let them cloud your judgement or the conduct of your work.”

  “Okay.” Chris paused. “So, if there is a serial killer, what’s his story likely to be?”

  She shrugged. “It’s impossible to say for sure without knowing more about the cases, or being able to speak to the suspect. For some people, obsession is a positive. For some, it’s not. Usually what pushes dangerous people over the line isn’t their nature, but how they were nurtured or some trigger event.”

  “The serial killer might have something in his past?”

  “I’d say it’s incredibly likely, if your serial killer does indeed exist.” She placed a hand on his back. “Just take it easy, keep it all in perspective, and come see me again next week.”

  Chris chewed on her words for a moment. “Okay.”

  They shook hands, then Williams headed for her car. As Chris walked back to the crime scene, he thought about their discussion. He felt better, even if talking to her hadn’t changed his mind about the likelihood of a serial killer, or got him any closer to catching them. He was determined to put more effort into his other cases. It would help keep his head clear, and keep others off his back.

  Manny was waiting at the edge of the crime scene. “We’re done for now. The crime scene guys are scouring over it and I’ve done the preliminary work. Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked to their SUV. Manny took the wheel and they drove in silence back to JTF headquarters. Either Manny was satisfied because Chris had spoken to Williams for nearly an hour, or he didn’t want to bring it up. Chris saw no need to complicate that with conversation. The silence was only broken when Manny took a call, keeping one hand on the wheel while he held the phone to his ear with the other.

  When the call was finished, Manny pulled over and looked at Chris. His partner looked spooked. “I need your help, Chris.”

  Chris frowned. They’d just finished a long shift and he wanted to get started on another set of stakeouts. “What’s up?”

  “A key witness in the Laverri case is gone.” Manny sounded surprisingly emotional. “I worked that case. I want to find her.”

  16

  Ashley

  Ashley rushed down the street, weaving through pedestrians who seemed intent on getting in her way as she looked down at her cellphone. It was a third-generation out-of-date iPhone she’d picked up cheap. The map app worked, though, and it told her she was only a block away from the school. That was her only focus after spending days holed up in that awful hotel room with nothing to do except think about how badly she’d fucked up.

  Ashley had thought about killing herself, but decided on another course of action. She was tired of putting her life on hold for the legal system, the same system that had removed her child. She was going to get Lucy, jump on a Greyhound bus, leave New York and set up somewhere far from here. She was meant to be meeting with Obrist to discuss a possible appeal, but she’d decided to skip it. She’d snuck past the Marshals and out of the hotel.

  She knew the cops would try to find her, of course, but she’d be long gone before they knew it. She didn’t care where she went, it just had to be somewhere she could get a job and send Lucy to school. Living in San Francisco and New York had severely impacted her life. Witness protection in Connecticut had been horrible. She just wanted a safe, sleepy life with Lucy somewhere out of the way. Maybe she’d head south.

  Ashley stopped walking and her breath caught in her throat. She could see Lucy on a playground less than 50 yards away, going down the slide and talking to a couple of her friends. The playground was inside the school fence and there were other kids around, but all Ashley saw was her daughter. She suddenly felt thankful she hadn’t killed herself. Doing so would’ve denied her this moment.

  Ashley stood and watched for several minutes, forgetting all about her plan. Lucy was running, playing and laughing just like she used to before this disaster had afflicted their life. Ashley was suddenly torn. She didn’t want to deny Lucy her happiness here in New York, her home, but she was confident her daughter could be happy wherever they ended up. Doubt raced through her mind, but she forced it away.

  Ashley clenched her fists, decision made, then walked over to the playgrou
nd. As she approached, the girls continued to play, oblivious. It was only when she was less than 10 yards away that Lucy looked up, squinted in confusion, and then froze in place. Her friends stopped what they were doing as well, and one of them reached out for Lucy’s hand.

  Ashley took another couple of steps forward and then stopped, close enough to talk but far enough away that she wasn’t threatening. She smiled. “Hi, Lucy.”

  “Hi Mommy.” Lucy beamed, her big brown eyes melting Ashley’s heart. Then she started talking rapidly. “I’m sorry for getting upset at the store. I was just surprised and I—”

  “Lucy, it’s alright.” Ashley held her arms wide. “Come here.”

  Lucy smiled and nodded, letting go of her friend’s hand and running over to Ashley. They embraced, and as she wrapped the girl in a tight hug Ashley looked over to Lucy’s friends. One was standing completely still and just staring at them, but the other had run away from the playground, back toward the school. As Lucy snuggled into her chest, alarm bells started to ring over the public-address system.

  As soon as she heard the alarm Lucy tried to pull away, a look of steely determination on her face. “I have to go now, Mommy. I need to go inside and find my teacher.”

  Ashley squeezed Lucy tighter, pulling her head back into her chest. “Just stay with me. You’re safe. Everything is alright.”

  “Those are the rules. I—”

  Ashley inhaled sharply, spotting two security guards running from the school to the playground. “Lucy, just come with me. You need to trust me. It’s okay.”

  Ashley gripped Lucy by the arm. Not wanting to hurt her, but aware she needed to get her away from here, Ashley pulled as hard she dared. But she wasn’t fast enough. She heard shouts from behind her and turned around. Two security guards were running towards her, radios in hand and scowls on their faces. It was too late.

  One of the security guards stepped toward her, holding up his hand, palm facing outwards. “You can leave that girl alone or you can end up in a cell.”