Malice

by Anne Patrick

  Isaac stood. "Okay people, listen up. Samantha Scott has provided us with a list of the females known to have visited the youth center in the past month. I want them interviewed, and those who have had contact with Briggs; I want a twenty-four-hour surveillance on them. Chief Benzali has called in a half dozen reserves and the director has agreed to send us as many agents as we need to help in the surveillance and to aid in the search of the county. Those girls are out there, and we're running out of time."

  Jo was just about to stand when the door of their command center flew open, and a young officer poked in his head. "Excuse me, Agent Washington"

  "What is it Officer Benzali?"

  "The Douglas PD is on the line. An observant neighbor called in fifteen minutes ago and reported that Briggs has been renting the apartment next door to him. They've got units posted at the front and back, the chief wants to know what you want to do?"

  "Is the Camaro there?" Jo asked.

  "Don't know. He didn't say."

  "Tell him not to do anything. We're on our way."

  *****

  With a police escort, the taskforce arrived in Douglas just inside of twenty minutes, cutting the sirens as they entered the city limits. Following behind in their rental cars, they crept into a residential neighborhood, seemingly deserted of its occupants. Isaac pulled to a stop behind two cruisers.

  Jo started to get out but Isaac grabbed her forearm. "Jo, I want you to stay in the car. That's an order. Boone you stay with her."

  She watched him climb from the car with Agent Farrell at his heels and meet the other agents. "He's really pushing the limits of our friendship."

  "He's only looking out for your best interest, Jo. You shouldn't even be here. You should be on maternity leave."

  "None of us should be here, Boone."

  "With any luck, Briggs will be in there and this whole thing will be over with."

  "That's what I like about you, you're always so optimistic."

  "You think he's already skipped out?"

  "No, he's still in the area. I wouldn't be surprised if he watching us this very moment." Lord, please keep them safe.

  It was almost half an hour before Agent Farrell hollered at them and they got out of the car. "It's secure. I don't know that you want to go in there though."

  Images of Prairie View, Maine filtered through Jo's mind. "Why?"

  "Let's just say there's no doubt he's our man."

  "Are they in there or not?" she barked.

  "Take it easy, Jo." Isaac walked up behind Farrell, his glare fastened on her. "They're not here, but there's definite evidence he took them. We've found enough photographs of them to fill a scrapbook. Evidently he had planned on coming back."

  "Well, what are we waiting for, let's go."

  Isaac stopped her. "Jo, wait. It's not a good idea you going in there."

  "Don't be ridiculous, this is why I'm here."

  "All right." He led her through the gathering crowd of emergency personnel to the garage apartment.

  Unlike the last crime scene Briggs left for them, he hadn't had time to clean up. She could still feel his presence. Waiting for Isaac to empty the apartment for her, she began to clear her mind, concentrating only on her surroundings.

  The living room consisted of an old brown tattered couch, matching recliner and a twenty-one inch TV. The two windows in the room had no curtains; instead, old white pull down blinds hid the room from the outside world. A pizza box lay on the coffee table with two slices of what looked to be sausage or hamburger pizza. Scattered around the box were four empty light beer cans.

  "I know, it looks like my old place," she joked. "You have to admit, though, I had much better taste in furniture."

  "Let's just get this over with."

  She followed him further into the apartment. The dining room/kitchen combo consisted of a refrigerator, empty except for eight cans of beer and some moldy lunchmeat. There was also a microwave, a stove and a sink that looked as if they hadn't been cleaned in months. The cabinets were as bare as the refrigerator with only two cans of beef and vegetable soup. The bathroom, located just off the living room, was a little cleaner, with the exception of the toilet. Its stench quickly prompted a wave of nausea in Jo.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and glanced down the short hallway to an opened door. Hesitating, she turned to Isaac and he nodded.

  "I can have them gather the evidence and you look at it back at the station," he offered.

  Her gaze hardened. "I appreciate your concern, Isaac, but you're starting to get on my nerves. It's been three years; what's it going to take to convince you Briggs can't hurt me anymore?"

  "All right, let's go."

  "I want to go in alone."

  "No. You really want to do this, fine, but I'm going in with you."

  "Please, Isaac, just back off."

  Without another word, he turned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jo took a deep breath and slowly entered the bedroom. Nude photographs of the missing teenagers were plastered on three of the four walls, the expressions on their faces depicting the horror they'd endured at their captor's hands. Eyes filled with terror, their mouths wide with silent screams. Young faces, robbed of innocence and beauty, revealing the evil of one man's creation. Forcing herself to turn away, she glanced around the room.

  A full size, unmade bed was centered against the south wall. Next to it was a nightstand with a shaded lamp and a radio alarm clock. Clothes were scattered both on the bed and in the only chair in the room. An imitation oak dresser sat across from the bed.

  Jo took a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of her blazer, slipped them on, and began to look over the contents of the dresser. Sorting through boxer shorts and socks she failed to find anything helpful. The closet consisted of mostly jeans and black shirts. White cardboard clerical collars were fastened to each of the black shirts.

  The anger continued to escalate.

  She closed her eyes briefly. Give me strength, Lord.

  Jo ran her hand along the top shelf of the closet. The tip of her fingers struck something. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her. She looked for anything she could stand on and spotted the chair. After knocking the clothes onto the floor, she dragged it to the closet, and using the closet door as leverage, pulled herself up. Her excitement dwindled when she saw it was only a calendar. She started to put it back, but then realized it contained Bible verses for each day of the month. Desperate for some sort of clue, she rolled it up and stuck it in her back pocket.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  She jerked at Isaac's voice.

  "I should have known better than to leave you alone in here." He came forward, offering his hand.

  She waved him off but he ignored her and wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her from the chair.

  "Look, Isaac, either you let me do my job, or I swear to you I'm on the next plane out of here."

  "Okay. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

  "You're in more danger of getting hurt here than I am," she warned.

  Not waiting for a reply, she walked over to the photographs plastered on the north wall. Were these his trophies, or was he boasting? This was a residential neighborhood. No way could he have tortured the girls here. She considered the living room, her mind racing to make sense of it all. Before, he was more organized, so thorough and meticulous, he left nothing to chance.

  "This is all staged, Isaac. He knew we would eventually find this place. He wants us to think he's out of control."

  "What about the girls?"

  "What about them?"

  "What did you pick up from the photographs?"

  "The photographs speak for themselves. At this point I'm more interested in what he has to offer me."

  "Right now the girls are our main priority. We'll worry about him later."

  "Come on, Isaac, you know as well as I do, they're al
ready dead."

  "We don't know that for sure. He changed his victim profile. Maybe he's changing his signature as well. You did suggest he's evolving."

  Her glare hardened, her anger intensifying. She wanted to believe there was still a chance of finding them alive as much as he did, but she knew differently. "Look at the photographs, Isaac, and tell me you really believe they could survive such torture."

  "All right, Jo, calm down."

  "Don't tell me to calm down. I want you to look at the photographs. You've seen his handy work before; tell me they're still alive."

  He shook his head slowly and turned from her glaring eyes.

  Frustrated, angry, and afraid, she turned and grabbed one of the photographs from the wall and stared at it. The photograph suddenly came to life in her hands. She felt the girl's fear, heard her desperate screams, and felt the excruciating pain rock her small frail body.

  "His signature hasn't changed. He tortured these girls just like he did the ones in Maine." Jo then shoved the photograph into his hands. "You tell me, Isaac, would you want to live through that? Would you still fight to survive?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left the room.

  *****

  Agents Milano, Ryan and Rifkin stayed behind to dust for prints and gather any other evidence left behind by Harland Briggs while the rest of the taskforce returned to Louke. Neither Isaac nor Jo spoke of what went on in the apartment and no one asked. The anger brought on by the images finally eased up and Jo felt somewhat guilty for having taken it out on Isaac. When they arrived back at the station, she decided she should try to make amends.

  As he climbed from the car, Jo followed. "Can I talk to you?"

  "I think you've said just about enough, Jo."

  "Please."

  Isaac turned to the other members. "Why don't you guys go grab us some burgers?"

  "All three of us?" Boone asked. He looked at Jo and she nodded. "Okay, guess we'll see you later."

  Isaac led her to the briefing room and closed the door. "If you weren't such a good friend…"

  "I know I was out of line. I'm sorry."

  "We've only been here three days and it's already starting."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The anger, Jo. His anger. You can deny it all you want, but he's already starting to get to you."

  She gave no argument; she knew he spoke the truth. She had felt it since her interview with Samantha Scott, and she knew she needed to get control of it, to follow the advice she'd given Agent Ryan just this morning.

  "Talk to me, Jo. What's going on?" He held out a chair for her. "It usually takes you longer to get into the zone."

  "He never left me, Isaac. He's been with me all along. So have the victims," she finally admitted, sitting down in the chair he offered.

  He sat across from her, his eyes locked on her. "But all the counseling you had before you were reinstated, the tests they ran...what did you do, fake it?"

  "Basically." She tossed him a coy smile. "I majored in psychology remember, I knew what they wanted to hear and what I had to say in order to be reinstated. I was afraid if I told them how well I knew him or about my gift they'd never let me go back to work, and I needed to work."

  "Do you realize how dangerous that was?"

  "If I'd stayed in that hospital any longer, I would have become a vegetable. The medication they had me on left me feeling like a zombie, and you know how I hate not being in control of things," she said and finally managed a smile from him. "They taught me of my limitations. But as far as getting rid of him, the only way that's liable to happen is when he's dead or behind bars."

  "You realize with what you've just told me, I'm obligated to pull you from the taskforce. That it could cost me my job if I don't?"

  "I realize that, but I'm not speaking to my superior right now, I'm confiding in a friend. One who's always stuck by me, trusted me, and understood me."

  "You know sometimes you make it nearly impossible to be your friend."

  "I know, which is why I cherish the few I have."

  He grinned and shook his head. "So how do you plan on dealing with this anger? I can't have you running around biting the heads off all your colleagues."

  "I thought that's what we were doing. Haven't you noticed? I haven't raised my voice once, or made any nasty threats."

  "Okay, we'll let it go for the time being. However, if you think I was a pain before, it's going to get a lot worse. And the minute I see you losing it, like you did today, you're on the first plane out of here. No arguments."

  "Okay."

  "I mean it, Jo. Don't make me regret my decision."

  "You won't," she promised. She knew both their jobs were at risk if she couldn't find a way to deal with Harland Briggs. Jo then thought of the calendar she found in the closet and took it from her back pocket.

  "What's that?"

  "Probably nothing, but I found it on the shelf in the closet."

  He glanced at it. "A calendar, you risked your neck for a stupid calendar?"

  "I didn't think it was anything either until I noticed it has Bible verses for each day of the month."

  "Let me see that."

  She handed it to him and then stood. Having memorized a couple of the verses, she went over them in her mind.

  "Do you think it's a clue of some sort?" he asked.

  "I don't know, maybe. Look at the verse on April ninth; the day Briggs abducted Kerry Rhoads. It's Romans 3:28, Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law."

  "What's it mean?" Isaac asked.

  "I'm not sure. I think it means we are justified by our faith in Jesus, not by our works. Unfortunately, I don't spend as much time reading scripture as I should. Until I met Austin, I hadn't even been to church since I was a kid."

  "He's been good for you."

  "Yeah, he has." She made a mental note to ask him about the scripture when she called him later.

  "What did you mean earlier when you said Briggs staged the apartment?"

  "I'm not sure yet." She sat back down. "It's like he's trying to send a message, but it's totally different than what I'm picking up, if that makes any sense."

  "I stopped trying to make sense of you a long time ago."

  She kicked his foot underneath the table; relieved they'd patched things up. She then reached for the calendar. "If you don't mind, I'm going to head on back to the motel to try and figure this out."

  "Okay, but don't let it keep you up too late. Get a good night's sleep."

  On her way out of the station, she ran into Boone and Lindsey. "Where are you off to?" her roommate asked.

  "I'm going on to the motel. I've got some work to do."

  "You want me to drive you?"

  "No, I'll get one of the officers to drop me off."

  "Okay. We grabbed you a ham and cheese on rye." Lindsey handed her a sandwich from the sack she carried. "Hey, later, after we're done processing the evidence, we're going to take in a show. You want us to drop by and pick you up?"

  "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

  "All right, I'll see ya later then. I'll try not to wake you when I come in."

  Jo nodded and continued on her way, somewhat disheartened. She would much rather hang out with the gang, but knew the sooner she figured out what Briggs was up to the faster she could get out of here.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Austin grabbed two sodas from the refrigerator and joined Bailey in the nursery. "You're doing a great job, sweetheart." She'd chosen lavender and blue wallpaper and now painted the boarder midnight blue. "Why don't you take a break?"

  Bailey climbed down the ladder and took the soda he offered. "Do you think Jo will like the colors?"

  "I think she'll love it." He sat on the floor next to her. "So how'd you do on the algebra test you took the other day?"

  "B+, which is better than Jesse did. She got a C and is now grounded from texting for a week."

  "Ouch, that must be d
riving her nuts."

  "That's no joke." She leaned back, crossing her legs. "Hey Dad, can I ask you something?"

  "I suppose."

  Bailey grinned. "It's about the senior prom."

  Austin's stomach did a nosedive; he'd been dreading this year since she was born. Driver's license, dating. "What about it? You're not a senior."

  "No, but Tommy Jackson is and he asked me to go, and well, it'll be my first, you know, official date."

  "Go on."

  "I know we'd agreed at the first of the year that you would drive me and whoever I went on my first date with, but Tommy has a car, and well, uh, I wondered if maybe he could just pick me up. I'd have him come in and meet you and everything, and I promise we won't stay out past curfew."

  "Tommy Jackson, that name doesn't ring a bell. Do I know him?"

  "He's never been arrested if that's what you mean. I don't think he's ever even had a speeding ticket."

  "How old is he? Who are his parents?"

  "He's seventeen, and his parents both work in Portland. She's a secretary or something and he works in sales. They live out north of town. They raise quarter horses."

  "You seem to know quite a bit about this young man. How long have you known him?"

  "Not long. I thought I'd save you the trouble of doing a background check."

  "Very funny."

  "So can I tell him he can pick me up?"

  "I'll think about it."

  "Come on, Dad, the prom is in three weeks."

  "Good, it'll give me plenty of time to think about it."

  "Geez, sometimes I wonder if you even trust me."

  "I trust you. It's him I don't trust."

  She rolled her eyes. He hated it when she did that.