All the Shiny Things: A Kate Reid Novel (Kate Reid Series Book 1) (26 page)

The apartment brightened in an instant as Marshall flipped on the lights in the living room. The dusky light outside filtered through shade-screened windows, casting a murky light. The conditions were a difficult adjustment to the already sore eyes of a person who’d been staring at the words of a killer on her computer screen for most of the afternoon.

It had been brought up, more than once today, that putting Katie into protective custody was the only option. The inevitability of the FBI’s involvement was no longer in question and, in fact, Hearn made the call and an agent was already assigned. This new cog in an expanding wheel would be flying in tomorrow. He would help enter the case information into ViCAP and take point on coordinating between the multiple jurisdictions.

Katie dropped to the couch, exhausted and frightened. Maybe they were right; maybe she should be relinquished to the hands of the FBI, sent someplace far away where neither she nor her family would be in any danger. But she felt safe being with Marshall—conflicted about putting him in too much danger—but safe. He, of course, would not see it that way, but the fact remained.

Marshall joined Katie on the couch with two beers in hand. “Here, thought you might want to take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” It might take the edge off, but it would take a hell of a lot more than one beer to get her to sleep tonight.

“You said earlier today that I didn’t know what it was like having to live with letting the bad guy get away.”

“I’m sorry, Marshall. I was just upset.”

“No, it’s okay. But I want you to know something about me. Something I never, ever talk about.”

He rarely talked about himself at all; in fact, Katie always felt he kept her at arm’s length.

“You know I was born in Chicago, right?”

“Yeah.” That much he shared only after she dragged it out of him one night because he’d had a few too many beers at the bar.

“We lived in the suburbs. Oak Park. My dad was an architect for a firm in the city. My mom stayed home with me and my little brother. We had a pretty great life there. We took vacations every summer and my parents seemed to be happy together. My brother and me always fought; no surprise since he was younger and wanted to hang out with me and my friends.”

Marshall’s eyes lit up as he talked about his family. An only child, she couldn’t entirely relate, but it was the first time he’d ever spoken of them other than in passing. 

“So my dad took the ‘L’ into the city every day. He was usually home by 6:30 and then we’d have a family dinner. My mom insisted on it and he complied with her wishes. Always.

“One night, when I was ten, my dad was late. Really late. It was almost 9:30 and my mom hadn’t heard from him. She said he had to work late because of some project deadline, but that he was expected home no later than eight o’clock. This was well before cell phones, so she had no way of contacting him. He didn’t wear a pager. That was the thing back then, right?”

Katie smiled at his reticent humor, but remained silent.
Just let him talk.

“It was about midnight when the cops showed up at the house. Me and my brother waited at the top of the stairs. Mom thought we were asleep, but we both heard the doorbell.” Marshall took a swig from his beer; his eyes drifting far beyond the here and now.

Katie knew what was coming.

“The conductor found his body on the way back into the city. It was a late weeknight and the train was empty. The cops said he was robbed, then stabbed. Whoever did it got off at a random stop—they didn’t know which one—and left him for dead. By the time the conductor found him, he’d bled out. No pulse.”

The words reverberated in her head while she watched as Marshall’s eyes glistened with tears. But, he turned away and wiped them dry.

“They never found who did it?”

“No. They suspected it was a couple of kids, thugs, but no one saw anything. It just became another in a long line of unsolved murders in Chicago. So, my mom packed us kids up and moved here to live with my aunt. My mom, who, by the way, had never worked a day in her life, had to take a waitressing job while she went back to school to finish her college degree. She was hardly ever home. My dad had a small life insurance policy, but that ran out pretty quickly. I basically raised my little brother, who was only seven at the time. So much for my happy childhood.”

“Is that why you became a cop?” Katie asked.

“I suppose it played a pretty big part. I wanted to catch the bad guys to try and make up for not finding the ones who killed my dad; at least at first. But, after too many years on the job, I think I’ve learned how to accept what happened; accept that I couldn’t fix it. So, I do know what it’s like living with the cloud of failure over my head.”

“Marshall, you can’t possibly hold yourself accountable for what happened. You were just a kid.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice. That’s what I’ve been telling you practically every day since we met.”

“I’m so sorry; I had no idea. You never talk to me about your family.”

“I know. It’s not easy for me to let people in. The last time I did, I got my heart stomped on pretty good.”

He moaned a little as he rose from the couch, his bones crackling along the way. “How about another beer? Feel like pizza tonight?”

And that was the end of it. He turned it off just like that. How selfish she felt. Insisting this was all about her and he knew nothing of what she’d gone through. It was a different situation, but he knew what loss felt like. What it felt like going through childhood with that emptiness.

Katie stood up and wiped her eyes so he wouldn’t see how deeply saddened she was for him. He wasn’t the type to accept pity. “Another beer would be great. And I could definitely go for some pizza,” she said, joining him in the kitchen.

He handed her another beer and raised his own. “Here’s to a couple of messed up kids.”

16

T
he airport baggage
claim teemed with weekend travelers. Midday on a Friday was the worst possible time to be at the San Diego airport. A man emerged from the crowd and Katie knew right away that he was FBI. With a shoulder bag draped over his front, he appeared to be fresh out of the training academy in Quantico. Military-style hair, high and tight, pressed white dress shirt, navy pants. Fit, but not overly muscular and he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five.  

“I bet that’s him,” Marshall said.

The man approached, seeming to immediately recognize the two of them.  Katie wondered if he’d already run their profiles.

He offered his hand to Marshall first. “Special Agent Nicholas Scarborough, FBI, Behavioral Analysis Unit. You can call me Nick.”

“Detective Marshal Avery, SDPD.” They shook hands. “And this is Kate Reid.”

His grip was firm, but not bone crushing. At this point in Katie’s life, she’d come to realize that there were those men who shook women’s hands like a jellyfish, which she felt lacked respect, or those that shook with full-on, pain-causing hand compression, which meant they were trying to project their dominance. This was neither, and it was those rare men whom she respected most.

“Nice to meet you. Should we head back to the station?” Katie asked.

She relegated herself to the back seat so Marshall could fill in the agent. The FBI’s involvement would mean some serious changes in the investigation and it wouldn’t be long before she would know whose side Scarborough was really on; hers, or his own that followed a career-building path on which she was merely a stepping stone.

“We’re getting some pushback from the original investigating officer, who now runs the Rio Dell Police Department. He has no interest in utilizing the ViCAP system,” Marshall said.

“I’m not surprised. We get a lot of departments that just don’t have the manpower to dedicate to entering old case files. With several cities going bankrupt and taking their public services down to barebones, I can understand it. But, without the participation of these jurisdictions, the system is virtually ineffective. I’ll walk him through it today and see if we can get somewhere.” The agent turned to Katie. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Ms. Reid. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be.”

“I appreciate that, Agent Scarborough. So what is the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”

“We handle cases involving child victims; abductions, disappearances, homicides. I provide operational support to local law enforcement.”

“I see. I don’t know how much you are aware of, Agent Scarborough, but I’ve been working side by side with Detective Avery for months on this case, my case, and I don’t intend to be pushed to the sidelines.” She wanted to be sure to get that out of the way to avoid any confusion.

“Of course not, ma’am, and please, call me Nick.”

She was beginning to like Nick already.

» » »

Reporters waited outside the station, as they had ever since Katie went public and there was Marc Aguilar, with his orange face and paper-white teeth at the head of the pack.

The three of them made a beeline to the entrance to avoid any questions.

“Ms. Reid, I understand the FBI is now involved in the investigation. Care to comment?” He shoved a microphone in her face, but Marshall reached around her and hustled her inside.

“How the hell does he know that?” she asked. “We only just found out ourselves.”

“I don’t know, Kate, but I can’t say that Scarborough’s appearance doesn’t just scream FBI. Aguilar’s probably talking to someone in the station. We need to get the captain to issue a statement that we can’t comment on an ongoing investigation. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to shut up whoever’s flapping their gums here.”

“Agent Scarborough, we’ve got a makeshift workstation for you set up in our small conference room. I hope that’ll be okay for now.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’d just like to speak to Captain Hearn first. Is Chief Wilson still here?”

“Yes. He’ll be here for a few more days,” Marshall said.

“Good. I’ll want to get a download from him too.”

Katie was surprised how quickly Hearn had the space set up for Agent Scarborough. They didn’t mess around when the FBI got involved.

“I’ll be at my desk if you need me,” Katie said to Marshall. “I’m sure we’ll catch up later, Nick. Thanks again.”

Katie walked back to her desk; her files were piling up. Spending a lot of time with Marshall was taking its toll on her workload. The computer booted up and Katie opened her email, not realizing for a moment that she wasn’t breathing. But there were no surprises. When would he again make an appearance and catch her off her guard? If his goal was to frighten her, then he had accomplished as much.

She thought about the trinkets, the prizes, again and picked up her cell to call her mother; slipping out the back while waiting for her to answer. No one needed to hear her conversation.

“Hello?”

“Mom, it’s me.”

Katie listened as her mother flooded her ear with concerns as to why she hadn’t been calling every day and how she tried her apartment, but got no answer. For whatever reason, they almost never tried her on her cell. It was like the cell phone was some foreign technology that they just didn’t understand.

“I’m really sorry, Mom. I’ve been staying with Detective Avery as a precaution. Listen, I wanted to ask you something. Was I wearing any sort of jewelry on the day I went missing? Like earrings, a necklace, bracelet, anything?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t remember. The only thing that I thought about was getting you back.”

“It’s okay, Mom, it’s nothing, I was just…”

“Wait. Yes, as a matter of fact, you were wearing a pretty little silver bracelet your grandmother gave you for your birthday, the February before…” She trailed off.

No one around her seemed to complete a sentence that involved reminding Katie of her abduction; not even her mother.

“But, I honestly don’t know if you were wearing it when we found you. Honey, I was so overwhelmed with relief, I didn’t pay attention. But the thing is, I just don’t remember seeing it at all after you came home. I can have your father bring down the boxes in the attic with all your things and see if it’s in one of them.”

“That would be great, Mom. It would be a big help, actually.”

“Can I ask why?”

Katie couldn’t mention the email; it would be too much for her. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

“Okay, then. When are you coming home? I don’t like all these news stories showing his face. I want you home, safe.”

Deborah wasn’t completely off base. He seemed to know her every move here, maybe staying back home wasn’t a bad idea. “It’s fine, Mom, really. I work in a police station; I don’t think I could be much safer.”

“Please, promise me you’ll come home soon, okay?”

“I will. I promise. Send Dad my love and I’ll do a better job at keeping in touch. Goodbye, Mom.”

Katie arrived back at her cubicle to find an agitated Marshall pacing around it.

“Where the hell have you been? Jesus, Kate, you can’t just go wondering off without telling anyone.”

This was a first. What cause did he have to be so on edge?

“I just went out through the break room to call my mom.”

He swatted the air as if to shoo away his concern. “Sorry. I’ve been working with Agent Scarborough on this ViCAP program. We think we have a match to the case in Portland. There are enough similarities to warrant a harder look, anyway.”

“Well, that didn’t take long.”

“No, it didn’t. Someone in Portland’s been using this database and already had the case entered. So, when we entered your case, the markers were there and we got a hit. Looks like the Portland PD has been utilizing the program for a while with a lot of success, according to Scarborough. Come on, I’d like you to see this. We need to call the chief in too.”

“Has anyone seen him this morning?” Katie asked.

“He just showed up and is in Captain Hearn’s office; probably complaining about me. You know he hasn’t cared much for me since I took you up to the edge of the woods, where you were found. He told me then I was wasting your time.”

“I know, I remember. It’s a difficult situation, Marshall.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

They entered the makeshift FBI field office where Agent Scarborough was pulling some papers off the printer. Not far behind, Captain Hearn and Chief Wilson came into the room.

“I’ve printed off the identifying markers between your case and the Portland investigation of the missing girl from September 1990. Her name was Angela Richards, eight years old.” Agent Scarborough handed copies to everyone. “You’ll see that the age of the victim is a match to the age Ms. Reid was at the time of her abduction, give or take a year or so. Going past the comparable appearances of each of them—dark hair, petite build—we get into even more important similarities. She was taken from her neighborhood in a rural community just outside of Portland, on her way home from school; very much like Katie. So, we’re seeing his opportunistic nature. Many of these serial killers are driven by opportunity; very few are in fact, planned abductions.

“Her body was found about a year later in Forest Park, just west of downtown Portland. A hiker who had veered off the Wildwood Trail spotted some buried human remains, only slightly exposed above ground. It had been a particularly wet summer, so it was assumed the runoff from the rain washed away some of the material used to bury the body, exposing it just enough to be have been visible by passersby.”

“We are somewhat familiar with this case, agent,” Marshall started. “But to my knowledge, no DNA evidence was uncovered, since that technology was new at the time. And, not to be insensitive, but she’s been in the ground a long time. Even if we could exhume her now, which I assume would be highly unlikely; none of her killer’s DNA would still be present. How can we be sure there is a connection? None of the other presumed victims have ever been found.”

“We aren’t positive, detective, but if we can meet with the lead investigator for this case, or at least someone they’ve got working cold cases, we can take a look at the files for more information.”

“I get that we need to establish a connection here, but aren’t we well past this now? The guy is after me, right? You all think so and I agree. What good is this going to do us now? We know what he looks like and we need to find him. What about the lead on the stationery? Is anyone going to look at that? It’s current, it’s relevant, and I think we need to move forward with it.” Controlling her frustration was becoming difficult and she began to fall in line with the chief’s way of thinking. She was tired of this road they had been down far too many times. It was time for action, but no one else was seeing it that way. “And what about the hotline? Is anyone going to follow up on those leads?”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Ms. Reid, I do. But believe me, we need to talk to the Portland PD. I’m not saying we can’t continue exploring other avenues, but we cannot dismiss this. If we can find a pattern of behavior, we’ll be one step closer, I promise you.” Agent Scarborough scanned the room, seemingly looking for a general consensus amongst the rest of the team. “We do need consider your safety, Ms. Reid, and I think the best way we can do that is by entering you into Wit Sec. Normally, this is reserved for witnesses who are about to testify, or have testified on certain cases. But, you’ve received threats to your life and, given the situation, you are technically a witness. I think we can justify this particular use of the program.”

“No! Absolutely not! I am already under 24-hour surveillance from Detective Avery. I do not need to be shipped off somewhere where I’ll have no idea what’s going on. None of you would even be here if it weren’t for the fact that I recovered my memory. I am a part of this, damn it!”

“Calm down, Kate.” Marshall was the only person who could possibly get away with saying that right now. “She’s right. She’s been the one who’s been persistent and forced everyone’s hand to reopen this investigation.” He shot a disapproving glare at Wilson. “She is a part of this, whether you like it or not. Now, I can’t say that I completely disagree with her needing more protection. I have been keeping her under my wing, but that’s not to say that we shouldn’t be monitoring her cell phone, her email, and anything else that may be a way for him to contact her. He’s proven his ability to reach her time and again. We need to get on top of this before it’s too late.”

Before it’s too late?
That was the first time he’d ever expressed that he might actually be afraid for her. That the killer might find her and she wouldn’t be able to get away again.

“I think Agent Scarborough is right about the Portland girl, Angela Richards. We can’t dismiss that. But, I believe Katie’s involvement is still critical to this investigation,” Captain Hearn replied.

Katie was surprised to have the captain on her side. Hadn’t he just said the day before he wanted her in protective custody? Had her words finally convinced him otherwise?