Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) (23 page)

A little of Cam’s excitement dissipated. “If you can get that done, I’d appreciate it. Might not be the owners we’re looking at, anyway, but hired help. Grown children who assist with chores.” A thought struck him then, and he added, “Ask whether they’ve hosted any tours through there recently. Had any visitors. And I’m going to want the names of their relatives. Sons, cousins, nephews, son-in-laws.” Stacy Marchand had loaned Humphrey the van he’d used to abduct Michael Quinn. Sophie might not be held on a farm at all. A family member who had visited one could be the UNSUB they were after.

“Will do. I know that they have two girls, Marcia and Chrissy, both living somewhere out west. The Hostetters get help with chores when they travel, of course. Neighbor kids for the most part, but I’ll share what I find when I see you.”

“Appreciate it.”

The call ending, Cam turned his attention to typing up the pertinent points and assignments for the upcoming briefing.

SAC Gonzalez entered his office almost to the minute of her promised arrival. She flicked a dark gaze over the jumble of chairs and empty coffee pot but didn’t mention them, getting right to the point. “I’ll be putting in calls to the other SACs as soon as they’re in. And I’ll apprise Assistant Director Miller that the scope of the search is broadening. Am I trying to finagle having you at the searches at the ostrich facilities in other zones?”

Cam shook his head. “I have plenty to keep me busy up here, and I want the searches completed as quickly as possible. They can be done almost simultaneously if I don’t insist on being on every scene.”

She looked at him through hooded eyes. Not for the first time, he couldn’t read her thoughts. “And you’re okay with that?”

He knew what she was asking. “I’m okay with anything that brings this stage of the investigation to a successful close.”

Gonzalez nodded. It was the politically correct answer, but truthful in this case. He wanted Sophie found, the faster the better. “You think Dr. Channing’s going to be found closer by.”

She was good at reading him. But they’d worked together for years before her promotion, often side by side. “I keep going back to the geographic profile.” He nodded at the map taking up a large portion of one wall.” Sophie had pinned red strings from each of the body dumpsites like wheels of a spoke, all of them coming together in Polk County. Yellow strings signified the cities where the identified victims had been abducted. “Dr. Channing talked about an anchor, some place the scumbag feels safe. Something that ties him to his operational area. It’s the same approximate distance from here to each of the dumpsites, depending where he’s holed up.”

“And your gut is saying she’s nearby.”

He merely looked at her, unwilling to admit how heavily he was relying on instinct to make the decisions of where to focus his attention.

“Go with your gut,” she said simply. “It’s rarely steered you wrong in the past.”

She left his office, her words echoing and re-echoing in Cam’s head. He stared blindly at the map, considering just how wrong Maria was. He’d made a major breach of professional ethics before the final bust was going down on that narcotics task force a couple years ago. And that breach had recently come back to bite him in the ass.

He couldn’t afford to make a similar error when it came to saving Sophie.

The screams went on and on, spiking through Sophia’s ears, blazing across her brain. She could visualize every torturous moment the other woman was experiencing. Could imagine just how easily it could have been her suffering at that instant.

It
should
have been her.

An unbearable onslaught of guilt arrowed through her. She folded her arms alongside her head, blocking her ears to shut out the sound. But the screams echoed in her mind until she wasn’t sure if they were real or whether the earlier ones had lodged there, impossible to shake loose.

She’d thought to buy herself time. Just another day to try to affect an escape. Summon help. It had never occurred to her that there was someone else imprisoned with her. She’d never answered when Sophia had called. Why hadn’t she answered?

The next scream shot up her spine. The pain from her ribs was forgotten. How little to endure compared to the suffering being inflicted…on Van Wheton? Or another woman?

Sophia had felt helplessness before. She’d assisted in investigations where law enforcement had been too late to save a killer’s latest victim. She’d stood by and watched the lifeless body of a five-year-old extracted from the shallow grave a pedophile had dug for him.

But this… The feeling carved a jagged hollow through her center. Filled it with despair. And she knew she’d never forgive herself. There was nothing she could do to stop the agony the other woman was enduring.

The knowledge pummeled her with brutal fists. The desolation that followed the thought was debilitating.

However, there was one thing she
could
do. Determinedly, barely conscious of the tears streaming down her face, she snapped the clip off the pen. Examined it. Once she filed it on the broken concrete floor she’d have an edge sharp enough to work with. Crawling across the area, she tucked it beneath the mattress, as close to the wooden wall as possible. Then she returned to the center of the cell and snatched up the torn fast food bag.

The screams were hideous, one melding into the other, sounding more animal than human. Each pounded a dagger of remorse deeper and deeper into Sophia’s brain. Sprawling on her stomach, she ignored the chorus of protest from her ribs. And she began planning a way to write the ‘profile’ while embedding a message the sadist a few yards away wouldn’t notice.

But one Cam would hopefully look for.

The monster—it was impossible to think of him any other way—made a pleased sound. “If you’d a written this to begin with we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I’m glad you’ve given me another chance to get it right.” Sophia’s ears strained to hear a sound from his other victim. But there was nothing. Not even soft sobbing. She wondered if the woman had lost consciousness. Or worse.

With dull eyes she watched as he read the new profile, while absently scratching his chest. She ought to be concerned that he’d notice the words she’d hidden in the context of the writing. But anxiety for herself was difficult to summon. There was only emptiness. A void that echoed the quiet emanating from the other victim.

The gate remained locked and shut. He hadn’t bothered to come in. Hours ago she would have been heady with relief.

That was before he’d brutalized another woman.

“How will you get it to the news anchor?” He’d expect the question, or one like it. But Sophia couldn’t find it in herself to care. All her concern centered on the other female nearby—and the deathly silence that permeated the structure.

Had he killed her?

Whatever his actions, he appeared sexually sated. His arousal was no longer evident. The ferocious temper had disappeared, although she already knew how suddenly it could reappear. The sadistic monster had been satisfied.

For now.

He looked up. “You did a real good job on this. Of course, I could have just told you what to write and skipped all the psychological shit. Saved us some time. You’re probably feeling neglected by now. ’Specially since you heard all the fun you were missing out on.”

“You were wise to allow me to write it in my usual fashion.” Sophia couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself respond to his incendiary words. But the casual reference to the brutality he’d enacted on the other woman ignited a torch of temper that burned through her shock and sorrow. “The law enforcement will call upon professionals to verify my handwriting and style of writing. They’ll be able to discern that the profile was written in my unique manner.”

“That’s what I figured.” Carefully he laid the sandwich wrapper atop the torn bag and rolled the two pieces around the pen he’d brought her to use. She had a moment to wonder whether he’d notice later that its clip was missing. If he’d realize what that meant, and come back for her sooner rather than later in the day.

Then his gaze raised, his pale blue eyes impaling her, and something in them made her writhe in revulsion. “But knowing you were listening to us the whole time… I think it made me last even longer. I’ve got plans for you when I get back. You and the other whore. Nothing like the anticipation of a little girl-on-girl action to give me something to look forward to today.”

The other victim was alive then, despite his vicious attack. Relief was followed by a flare of hatred, so hot and intense that Sophia almost shook from it. She dropped her gaze in what she hoped he’d take as deference. Or fear. She didn’t want him to read the real emotion in her eyes. Her job required objectivity, even in the face of the most horrifying details in a case.

But this was no longer a case. It was her life. Hers and the victim who was likely Courtney Van Wheton. And if they were both to live, Sophia had to be successful in her next escape attempt.

Finally the man turned away. She heard his steps recede as he moved across the building, leaving her in darkness. Something inside her wound more and more tightly with each passing moment, waiting for the telltale sound that would mean she was alone again.

But, no, not alone. Another woman was depending on her success, as well.

The squeak of ancient hinges had her lunging across the cell, as if a giant spring had been released. Ignoring the breath-stealing pain in her ribs, she yanked the mattress away from the wall and scrabbled to find the metal pen clip she’d stored there. It would have been easier to wait for the dim light that would eventually lighten the interior of the structure when dawn broke.

But she couldn’t make herself stop. Her fingers groped blindly along the wooden wall in a frantic search until they found the item she was looking for. Sophia clutched the metal piece like a talisman before moving to the edge of the mattress nearest the limestone wall.

It would be useless to search for a board to attack until she had some light to guide her way. She’d use the time to prepare. Holding the tip of the clip in two fingers, she dragged the broken edge across the rough stone to sharpen it. Because failure didn’t bear considering, she wouldn’t let herself think about what would happen if her idea didn’t work.

It had to work. Two lives were depending on it.

# # # #

“Will a member of this team be present at the searches on farms in other zones?”

“No.” Cam noted Jenna’s faint look of shock at his response to her answer and he addressed the others in the briefing room. “It would require too much time and we want this completed as quickly as possible. While it’d be wonderful if we found Dr. Channing on one of the sites, we have to consider it’s far likelier that we’ll discover it was someone who visited the place who left behind the evidence. A hired hand, possibly. We’re also in the process of getting a complete list of employees and volunteers at the Blank Park Zoo.” Cattle and ostriches could also be found there.

He glanced down at his notes. “Beachum and Robbins will compare the list of names we get from the zoo with the violent sexual offender list we’ve been working from. I’ve already run checks on the owners of each of the ostrich farms in Iowa, with nothing of note appearing in their backgrounds. The MCU agents in the other zones will be gathering information regarding hired men, family members and lists of visitors. They’ll pass along the data as it’s compiled.”

His gaze cut to where the Story County sheriff was seated. “Bob, you want to tell us what you found on your search of the Hostetter farm?”

The man stood, cleared his throat. If anything his tan had deepened since the first body was discovered. Coupled with his lean build, it gave him the look of well-worn rawhide.

“As I told Cam, I’ve known the owners for years. Been at their place a hundred times. But I stopped by again, and Joe took me through every outbuilding on the property. He wasn’t nearly as understanding about me wanting a look at his basement, but I checked it out.” He scratched his chin with a long index finger. “And that’s probably gonna cost me a bottle of Kentucky’s finest at some point, but I can tell you there’s no trace of anyone on the place with the exception of Joe and Vera. I have the names and contact information for the two high school kids who help out with chores when needed. No visitors have been by. They used to host a kindergarten class every spring, but they had to stop because of liability issues. A daughter and son-in-law just left last week. Their information’s on the list, too, but they live in Cheyenne.” He walked to the front of the room to hand a paper to Cam. A quick glance showed a neat listing of names, numbers and addresses.

“Thanks, Bob.” Cam’s attention switched to Beckett Maxwell, who was comfortably slouched in his chair next to Dumont. “Anything new on the surveillance of the Price place?”

“Not if you mean new like seeing a herd of ostriches run around the farm yard.” A few chuckles sounded in the room. “Had a run in with Gary Price two days ago.” He shrugged. “Pretty hard to do circumspect surveillance when there’s nothing around but corn and bean fields. He took offense to having us sit on his place. I listened politely and informed him that we intended to continue. There’s some traffic out there. Talked to people in town and apparently he does do car repair, as he said. We’ve gotten a glimpse inside the machine shed a time or two and it’s equipped like an auto repair shop.” He rubbed his jaw. “What I’d really like is a look in that old barn that butts up against the back of the shop.”

“Do you know the property owner farming the land directly behind it?”

A slow smile crossed Beckett’s mouth at Cam’s question. “I do now. Yesterday I got his permission to walk his fence line. Got within forty foot of the barn, and there is a large double door, but it was closed and secured with a big wooden bar slid across the length of it.”