Deadly Potential

by Jennifer Carole Lewis

“Does Lucy have any information about the footage we sent? Something to help us narrow down what kind of occulata we are dealing with,” Ben replied before his partner could annoy Adler with an irreverent response.

  “Yes, has she worked her magic yet?” Ray asked with a grin.

  So much for that hope.

  “It’s analysis, Investigator Corwin, not witchcraft,” Adler corrected absently. “And the recording is unlikely to yield significant information. Any number of publicly-available video editing tools would allow an unsub to remove themselves from a recording.”

  Ben bit his tongue on his first response. And his second. Adler didn’t tolerate emotional outbursts. He needed her cooperation since Orlund wasn’t inclined to help.

  “Upon review, it is far more likely the unsub’s abilities allow him to navigate without detection. Perhaps he is a metamorph or a telepath,” Adler continued. “The effort expended is disproportionate to his evident goal. Which means the death of his targets is secondary to the visceral impact of the staged reveal to the public.”

  “Once again, your genius impresses us mere mortals,” Ray teased.

  “Intellect is irrelevant without applying it to the available observations.” Adler sounded bored.

  Ben wondered what social interactions were like for her. With her ability to observe and deduce, there would be few surprises and fewer secrets. Social withdrawal might be the best of the bad choices.

  He cleared his throat. “Can you get us profiles on the victims? The current target doesn’t appear to fit the victimology.”

  “A rare lapse for the FBI.” Interest sharpened her ennui-driven tone.

  Ben explained the differences, hoping to catch her attention. Adler would do the work regardless, but she worked relentlessly on the cases which caught her interest.

  “Textual analysis determined this is not a copycat. You may be correct. There is more here than has been detected.”

  Ben grinned. He’d hooked her. Between Adler and Lucy, the unsub didn’t stand a chance. “I’d appreciate your insights.”

  “Your lack of ego-driven defensiveness is refreshing. I’ll contact you.” A dial tone announced the end of the conversation.

  “She is terrifyingly efficient, isn’t she?” Ray commented. “At least she’s on our side.”

  “Not exactly. She’s about finding out the truth. She doesn’t care whether it serves law enforcement or the person we’re investigating.” Ben had defended her precision frequently enough to make him unpopular in the ranks. He opened the case files again, determined to find the missing piece.

  The door to the dressing room opened, and a nymph-like goddess entered. Ben didn’t immediately recognize Katie’s features underneath the heavy stage makeup. Dark smoky swirls and silvery glitter outlined her eyes. Her full lips were stained a deep cherry red. Her auburn hair was pinned and teased into a thick mass of curls. Form-fitting green spandex covered her from neck to toe, but star-shaped cut outs of pale netting revealed her pale creamy skin. Ben’s mouth dried, and his body leapt to instant attention.

  She slid her arms into the silk robe. “Second encore is done. You mentioned wanting to review the security precautions?”

  Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If she hasn’t noticed, I’m not drawing attention.

  “Come along to hair and make-up while they get me out of all of this. We’ll talk.” She tucked the framed photographs into a tote bag. “Be forewarned that Razel is filming already.”

  “Sounds more delightful than hanging about down here.” Ray’s smile belied his peevish words.

  “Tomorrow you can have the VIP box.” Katie’s grin faltered as her eyes met his. Her fingers tightened around the tote, and her gaze dropped. Both gestures indicated embarrassment and discomfort.

  “Where’s Special Agent Orlund?” he asked. “He’s supposed to be watching you.”

  She rubbed her fingers with her thumb, a sign of anxiety. “I slipped away. I couldn’t take any more interrogation.”

  Anger knitted Ben’s muscles into taut curves. He held his tongue, unsure if his outrage was at Orlund for upsetting Katie, at Katie for putting herself at risk, or at the unsub for making all of this necessary.

  “Orlund is a first-class asshole, but he’s better than facing the man stalking you,” Ray said gently. “We’ll do our best to ensure you aren’t left alone with him again.”

  Her smile faded quickly. Ray got her moving while he trailed behind. She checked over her shoulder, and Ben struggled to keep his expression neutral. She’s used to being in charge, and only had half a day to get used to the idea of being hunted.

  The hair and makeup room was located off the main hallway to the stage. A small room with large mirrors and a long counter filled with pots, brushes, and hair pieces. Two women waited by a low black canvas chair. Ben lurked in the background while Katie sat, keeping an eye on the door. Ray chattered while the women removed extension pieces from Katie’s hair. They carefully draped the long strands over a velvet stand on the make-up table. Razel pointed her camera at the four other performers removing their stage effects. Ben wondered if Orlund was searching for Katie, or if he’d gone off on his own tangent.

  While he kept a watchful eye on the room, Ben stole regular glances at Katie. He’d seen three different personas from her. The windblown waif, the confident industry professional, and the glamorous stage goddess. Which one is the real her? As the hair and makeup were removed, it seemed like a restoration. The costume elevated her out of reach. Without it, she was beautiful but approachable.

  “What the hell?” Orlund’s angry shout halted the cheerful post-concert routine. “Are you hoping to get yourself killed?”

  Razel immediately swung the camera around to capture the drama.

  Ben stepped forward. “That’s uncalled for.”

  “Perhaps you ought to compose yourself, Special Agent Orlund.” Ray injected a significant amount of venom into his statement.

  “We’re . . . we’re almost done,” one of the women said, clutching the cleansing cloth. She placed it down on the makeup table and stopped. “What’s this?”

  A large cream-colored envelope rested against the auburn hair pieces on the velvet stand. It was addressed to Miss Katherine Ballard.

  Miss Katie Ballard,

  You have nothing to fear from me. I’ve searched as faithfully as any Prince Charming and I will be just as loyal. I only want you to have a happily ever after. Is it so hard to believe?

  But I can’t stay angry with you. For too long, you’ve been suppressed instead of recognized, so it’s natural you would be suspicious. I will win your trust before much longer.

  Meanwhile, we have more important issues to deal with. You haven’t written any songs for weeks. You can’t allow your talent to stagnate. I expect you to spend an hour tonight to develop new material. Don’t put any pressure on yourself. Try to have fun with it.

  I remain your faithful admirer and servant, Walter.

  P.S. Please pass on my respects to Agent Orlund. I do not bear him any ill will for his continued attacks on me. His actions have already cost him sufficiently, both personally and professionally.

  Chapter 7

  “How did this get here?” Ben demanded, the open letter in his gloved hand.

  Katie wrapped the robe tighter around herself. A few minutes earlier, she’d noticed an extension about to slip off the stand, and fixed it. The envelope wasn’t there then, I’m certain of it.

  She’d searched online before the concert, and bitterly regretted it. The phrase your faithful admirer and servant found articles and documentaries about the infamous serial killer, the Director. He took his victims despite all precautions. One had been kidnapped from a store dressing room with her boyfriend standing outside the stall.

  The men shou
ted at one another, but she ignored them, staring at the pale yellow rectangle, wondering what was inside. FBI and Special Investigations couldn’t protect her. If the Director wanted to snatch her, he would do it. She would rely on herself, the same way she always had.

  Enough of the pity-party. She slowly rose to her feet. “What does it say?”

  All three men paused their argument.

  “It’s addressed to me. I should know what’s inside.” Otherwise her brain would furnish all sorts of terrible possibilities. The horrors of imagination. There could be a song there. But first, she must know what she faced.

  “Let me copy it,” Ray said, “so you don’t handle the original. Is there a photocopier here?”

  “In the site office.” Her voice trembled, and she swallowed. “Sonya will show you.”

  “I can take him to her,” her hairdresser, Tiana, offered. She and Ray left without waiting for permission.

  “That’s evidence!” Orlund shouted.

  Ben moved to stand beside her. “He’ll bring it back.”

  His looming presence radiated protectiveness. A few minutes ago, she would have been reassured. But the Director had left the note without Ben noticing. It didn’t matter how broad his shoulders were, or how badass he looked in a leather jacket. This is real life. The cute, brooding cop isn’t guaranteed to save the damsel of the week. She would protect herself.

  Ben and Orlund were still arguing about what she should do.

  Katie interrupted them both. “She is standing here, and capable of speaking for herself. I will decide what I do next. Understood?”

  They avoided her eyes as she glared at them. Katie grabbed her courage with both mental hands, and held tight. She would not turn into a useless, shrieking twit. I am not going to die without fighting. A spark of light glinting off glass brought her attention to Razel, who wasn’t hiding her glee as she filmed the confrontation.

  Katie’s eyes narrowed. Oh no, you don’t. “She’s been recording this whole time.”

  Ben snatched the camera out of Razel’s hands.

  “You can’t do that!” She tried to grab it back.

  After handing the camera to Katie, Ben physically removed Razel from the room. Her protests echoed for long minutes. The performers and makeup artists exchanged worried looks, uncertain what had just happened.

  “Ladies, can we have the room, please?” Katie asked. Whatever the camera had captured, she didn’t want any of the staff to see it.

  Once she and Orlund were alone, Katie opened the camera’s side screen. She found the footage. Here’s where I sat down. No envelope. She muted the sound, and ran the recording forward at one and a half speed. Ben returned, and stood behind her shoulder. Despite her earlier thoughts, his presence comforted her.

  “That’s him,” Ben rumbled. The camera swept past a man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. He only appeared on screen for a split second, not enough time to identify his face.

  The view shifted to Katie in her chair. A black-clad arm placed the envelope on the table, and withdrew. Katie’s hand dented her lips in horror as she realized how close her stalker had been.

  Ben turned off the viewscreen, and closed the camera.

  She wanted to yell at him for presuming, but couldn’t. Her mouth was too dry. She didn’t want to see those images ever again.

  “Give me the camera,” Orlund demanded.

  Ben silently handed it over.

  Katie closed her eyes, but the images were burned into her brain. She suspected they would feature in her nightmares.

  Ray returned with the original heavy cream-colored stock tucked into a plastic sleeve.

  Evidence. She swallowed. “What does it say?”

  Ray glanced at Ben. “Maybe it would be better to—”

  “Give it to me. Please.” She held out her hand. As frightening as this was, not knowing scared her more.

  Ben took the photocopy from his partner. He visually swept her from head to toe, leaving Katie with an impression of noting every micro-expression and gesture. She stayed rigidly poised during his evaluation.

  She must have passed the test because he handed her the letter. She scanned it, reading it twice. Indignant anger flared. “Who the hell does he think he is, telling me what to do?”

  “It reads like an intimacy-seeking stalker,” Ray commented. “He assumes the two of you already have an intimate relationship, even though you’ve never interacted. Those ones usually aren’t as physically dangerous.”

  “Lucky me. I got the exception.” Katie sat down in her chair, and stared up at the ceiling. “This doesn’t seem like it could be real. I’ve seen Aggi’s share of her obsessed fans . . .”

  “Katie? Are you okay? Sonya called me. She said someone snuck in and left another letter.” Aggi dashed into the make-up room, already wearing her usual post-concert jeans and a T-shirt. “She said we kicked Razel out, and stole her camera?”

  “Not exactly. I’m fine.” Katie hugged her sister.

  Aggi clung to her as if afraid they would be torn apart.

  Orlund held out his hand. “I’ll need the original letter.”

  Katie frowned. “What does he mean about your search costing you personally and professionally?”

  “That has no bearing on the investigation at hand.” Orlund tucked the papers into his bag.

  Like hell it doesn’t. Katie stood up, remaining poised despite the chill air cutting through her spandex costume. “Special Agent Orlund, I am waiting for an explanation. Why would the Director mention you in this letter?”

  “He expects me to be involved, and takes pleasure in taunting me. It’s a common phenomenon between serial killers and law enforcement.”

  He’s lying. Katie would bet substantial money on something personal.

  “Wait a minute? These letters are from the Director?” Aggi gasped. “The guy who does the creepy corpse fashion shoots? That’s it, you and I are getting on the jet—”

  “You can’t leave,” Orlund argued.

  Aggi objected, and the room devolved into angry shouts. Katie kept her own lips clamped firmly shut, and noticed Ben also silently watching the drama.

  “Fuck the tour!” Aggi declared at the top volume of her impressive lungs. “Katie and I will be on a plane to Switzerland within the hour.”

  “Aggi! Language!”

  Everyone stopped at the interruption, and turned to face an older woman wearing an expensive designer coat and carrying an exclusive bag. Bernice. The sight of her stepmother sent Katie’s spirits crashing. To add insult to injury, Razel stood behind her, with a new camera and a vicious grin.

  “Much better.” Bernice turned to speak directly to the camera. “People don’t know how stressful even a successful performance can be. Everyone goes a little wild.”

  “Mom, I thought we were meeting at the hotel.” Aggi spoke carefully.

  Katie’s heart ached for her sister. She still wants her mother’s approval. Not that Bernice would ever give it. She’d have to notice something besides herself.

  Bernice smiled, still facing the camera. “I thought I’d surprise you, darling. Come and give your mother a kiss.”

  Aggi slowly walked over to her mother to deliver an on-camera peck on the cheek. Bernice finally deigned to abandon the lens, and focus on her daughter with a patently false pleasant expression.

  “Now what were you saying? I know you’d never cancel a concert, and risk disappointing your fans?”

  Katie’s fingers curled around the edge of the chair. She had little patience for Bernice’s dramatics at the best of times, and none at all now.

  “This is private.” Aggi held up her hand to block the lens.

  Razel smirked. “When people try to hide what’s going on, it should be public.”r />
  “Nonsense.” Bernice patted her daughter’s cheek as if she were a cranky toddler. “Only phonies hide from the camera. We have no secrets. That’s the beauty of your work, darling.”

  Orlund stepped forward. “We insist.”

  “Is what we heard true?” Razel asked. “Did you receive a letter from the Director?”

  “How dreadful! You must be frightened, darling,” Bernice cooed. “But your fans would never let something horrible happen to you.”

  Final straw. Katie stood up, and faced her stepmother. “He’s not after Aggi. He’s after me.”

  Ray took advantage of the distraction to shoo Razel out. She began to shout about freedom of the press and lawsuits. Ray whispered to her. When he finished, she suddenly went quiet, and walked away.

  Bernice frowned, the Botox-frozen skin above her nose puffing out instead of wrinkling. “What do you mean, after you?”

  “He’s sending letters to Katie. I’m taking her someplace safe.” Aggi grabbed the tote from the makeup table. “I hope my fans will understand.”

  “You mean, this isn’t about my Aggi? At all?” Bernice’s beatific expression abruptly soured. “You never could let anyone else have the attention.”

  The accusation had been flung at Katie too many times to hold any sting. She’d long-ago accepted her stepmother would never be happy with her.

  “I’m afraid Katie always did like the spotlight,” Bernice said coldly, her eyes flicking around the room to evaluate the audience reaction. “I’m not surprised she’s created something to get media attention. Her mother was fond of publicity stunts as well.”

  “Mom, that’s not true.”

  “You’ve upset my poor Aggi enough.” Bernice huffed. “Involving the police, and creating a scandal? It’s a good thing I’m here to take care of my baby girl.”

  “This is a very serious accusation, ma’am,” Ben’s low voice growled.