Deadly Relations (25 page)

“
What else can you tell us that will help us catch him?” inquired Tim.

“
Judging by his behavior and M.O., he appears to be an organized killer who plans methodically, and is probably above average intelligence. It appears he abducts his victims in one place, but kills them in another, and then disposes the bodies in the original abduction site.” Carly paused.

“
The guy knows a thing or two about trace evidence too,” added Tim.

“
He’s likely a man who watches forensics programming because he displays a basic knowledge of investigative tools and how to avoid detection,” said Carly.

“
Carly, I have a theory about the timing of the body dumps. On the days when the bodies of both Catherine and Tiffany were found, it was raining. Thus, washing away any trace evidence he may have missed when washing and bleaching the victims,” said Jennifer.

Carly thought for a moment. “Interesting. He may be thinking the rain further helps him to avoid detection. That’s another thing that supports how methodical he is. There is little your killer does without planning.”

“
If he abducted Brianna like we think he did, that means we have until it rains to find her,” Jennifer declared as the others nodded in agreement.

“
Any ideas on his occupation?” asked Lane.

“
He could be anyone who’s familiar with local outdoor recreation areas. He could be a cop, fireman, a hunter or even someone connected to the state parks. He’s a man who spends a lot of time enjoying outside recreation.”

“
To think our killer may be a cop on my team makes me physically ill,” said Tim.

Blake spoke up. “I’ve been thinking about that disabled tan and brown Jeep on Brianna’s walking route that our witness saw. The park service provides this type of vehicle to their conservation officers. Each of the conservation officers in area parks is also provided a cabin by the park service. We woke up the human resources director, got the conservation officers’ addresses, and sent deputies to visit each one to ask a few questions and check on the Jeeps.”

Carly continued, “One more thing I’ve learned from the research of Louis Schlesinger is that the number-one way serial killers are apprehended is by a surviving victim. Especially early on, your killer made mistakes because he had not perfected his techniques. I think your guy has been doing this for years. There may be a victim out there who survived his attack who can lead you straight to your murderer.” Carly downed the last bit of her coffee before she continued.

“
One of my friends is an FBI Analyst at ViCAP. I’ve sent her the particulars of your case, including the distinctive M.O. of this killer. She owes me a favor so she’s already started to delve deeper into the case,
looking for similar homicides, searching ViCAP and other FBI and non-FBI databases. She’ll prepare a report for us that will offer fresh investigative leads. If your guy’s M.O. matches other murders, no matter where or when they occurred, she will let us know.”

“
When do you think we’ll hear from her?” asked Tim.

“
She’s working this as we speak. My bet is we’ll get the report tomorrow.”

From the
front window of the cabin, he watched the two deputies climb back into their cruiser and back out of his driveway.

He’d been duct-taping Brianna’s wrists to his kitchen table when he heard a car motor. Dashing to the window, he’d seen a sheriff’s car parked in the driveway. Two deputies headed toward his front door. His heart had slammed against his chest and he’d almost pissed himself. What the fuck was the law doing at his cabin? Hell, most people couldn’t even find it, nestled in the woods, separate from the cabins of the other conservation officers.

He’d glanced back at Brianna, still unconscious on the table, then opened the front door to join the deputies on his porch.

“
Evening, officers. How can I help you?” He’d plastered on his friendliest smile and aimed it toward the female deputy who’d blushed, just like he’d wanted her to.

Not impressed, the male deputy sidled up to him on the front porch and said, “We’re looking for a missing girl and wondered if you’d seen her.”

“
Naw, came straight home after work.”

Annoyed, the male deputy pulled out a folded photo from his back pocket. “How do you know if you’ve seen her or not if you don’t know what she looks like?”

The officer’s tone made him bristle. He clenched his jaw and took the photo of Brianna Hayden and pretended to study it.

“
Nope. Haven’t seen her. But if I do, I’ll call.”

The deputy took the photo from him, folded it and returned it to his back pocket. The officer stood glaring at him for a long moment, then pointedly glanced toward the door. Panic rushed through him like river rapids. If they got inside the cabin and discovered Brianna, he was a dead man. It had all happened so fast, he hadn’t had time to slip his service revolver in the back of his pants. He was unarmed, two against one and he didn’t like the odds. He thought he heard moaning coming from within the cabin and he realized he’d forgotten to tape the prey’s mouth shut. Shit!

“
Hey, do you two know of any job openings with the sheriff’s department?” He kept his voice friendly, just like he was talking to two friends.

“
There might be a deputy job open soon. I know Eddie Shelton is getting ready to retire,” offered the female deputy.

The male deputy eyeballed him. “Why are you asking? Tired of the conservation officer gig?”

“
Yeah, I’ve been doing it too long. Besides, I hear deputies make more money.”

Both deputies snickered. “Yeah, we’re practically millionaires,” muttered the male deputy, as both officers headed back to the cruiser.

Though the deputies were gone, he remained at the window, paranoia clawing at his brain. Never before had the law come to his door. Why now? Why had they stopped at his cabin?

He turned to pace in front of the fireplace. Had they pinpointed him because they’d found some evidence he missed when he dumped Catherine and Tiffany? Had someone seen him with Brianna near his Jeep?

Hearing a moan from the kitchen, he realized his prey was regaining consciousness. “Shut up, bitch! I’m trying to think,” he shouted.

Flipping the television on, he surfed to the weather channel and discovered no rain was predicted for the next seven days. Damn it. Sure, he’d love to play with the prey for another seven days, but could he risk it? He turned the TV off and continued pacing. Maybe he’d grabbed Brianna too soon after going for detective bitch at the hospital? Had he made mistakes? Left evidence behind?

Hell, Jennifer’s dad was the sheriff. What did he think was going to happen when he went after his daughter? He decided he didn’t care who her father was, the bitch was going down. It was Jennifer’s fault the law was coming to his door. She thought she was so damn smart, treating him like a moron that day in the park next to Catherine’s body, in front of his father. Not that he ever gave a shit for what the old man did or didn’t think of him.

Hearing the whop-whop-whop of a helicopter in the distance, he wiped the beads of sweat off his brow. He couldn’t believe he was sweating over this, or anything for that manner. Was he slipping? No, he couldn’t be. He was the guy known for his no-evidence murders. There was no way they could be on to him. Could they?

The wailing and whimpering in the kitchen turned into an ear-piercing scream that echoed throughout the room. He grabbed his belt and raced to the kitchen, giving his prey a punishing lash of the belt. He then reached for the duct tape on the counter.

<><><>

Charlie Barnett had fished in Bear Lake since he was
six-years-old , when he’d listened to his dad proclaim time and again the lake was the best fishing spot in the county. Though his dad had passed away years ago, Charlie still agreed.

Dawn, with the sun an orange orb rising in the lightening sky, was his favorite time for fishing. He knew the closer it got to noon, the more pleasure boats and jet skiers would be racing back and forth in the deep water of the lake, ripping into the peace he’d looked forward to all week. He sucked in a lung-full of fresh air and listened to the water gently lapping against the shore, as he watched a doe and her fawn drinking at the water’s edge.

With o
ne more wet slice of his oar, Charlie slipped the anchor into the water, watching until it disappeared in the deep, inky darkness of the lake. Laying his oar in the boat, he pulled out his fishing rod, carefully hooked a worm, and then tossed it toward the reeds that lined the inlet. Holding onto the rod with one hand, Charlie used the other to dig into his ice chest for a bottle of water. He’d twisted open the bottle and lifted it to his lips when he felt the pull of the first nibble. Slowly and carefully, he lifted his rod and flicked the line to tease the fish until it nabbed the bait, and Charlie pulled it in. Although catfish was one of Charlie’s favorite catches, this one was on the small side. But he removed the hook from its mouth and threw the fish in his bucket anyway. There was plenty of time to catch bigger ones.

He re-baited the hook and threw the line back toward the reeds. It wasn’t long before the line yanked so hard, he almost dropped the fishing rod. Charlie glanced toward the reeds and spotted the biggest catfish he’d ever seen thrashing near the surface. Shit, if only his dad could see this whopper! He jumped to his feet, gripping the rod, winding the reel and tightening the line as he fought with the fish. Lifting one foot to the boat seat, he braced himself and pulled hard on the line.

Charlie leaned forward, too far, and the boat flipped over. Suddenly he was in the shockingly cold water, thrashing to free himself from the fishing line as his body sank. A sharp pain surged through his back as he landed on a sharp rock on the sandy bottom of the lake. He freed himself from the line and kicked his legs to propel to the top. But something stopped him.

Frantic, he looked down at his ankle and noticed a thick chain looped around his shoe. What the hell? Something touched his him. That’s when he found himself staring face-to-face with a beautiful young woman, her face frozen in death, floating eerily in the water next to him. Her dark hair wafted about his face, one of her long fingers caught in his buttoned shirt. Panic like he’d never known before welled in his throat, but he couldn’t scream, though God knew he wanted to.

Charlie kicked himself free, swam to the water’s surface, and gulped in air to fill his aching lungs. He struggled with the boat but finally flipped it upright and climbed in. After he pulled up the anchor, Charlie grabbed an oar and gasped, panting in terror as a fresh wave of panic swept through him. Piercing the water with the oars, he pushed toward shore. He had to get to his truck where he’d left his cell phone. Jesus Christ, had he really just found a body?

The minutes it took for him to reach shore seemed like hours. Charlie jumped out of the boat and pulled it onto the boat ramp, then raced toward his truck. Pressing his hand against his front right jeans pocket, fresh alarm flipped a switch and sent his heart racing anew. Where were his keys? He patted the
left-front, then the right, thankfully finding his keys. He whipped them out, opened the truck, fished for his cell phone in the glove box, and called nine-one-one.

<><><>

With h
is scuba diving search team mobilized, Blake and team was in the water with Charlie Barnett onboard within sixty minutes. Jennifer sat near a table set up with containers of hot coffee and pastries for the searchers as she watched the sheriff’s boat propelling in the water, aiming toward an area of the lake where Charlie fished. Lane stood nearby with his cell phone, briefing Tim.

A wave of apprehension surprised her. Where did that come from? Blake was a trained scuba diver and had five years of experience behind him. But that didn’t stop her from considering worst-case scenarios where Blake dived into the lake and never came back up. She shivered and crossed her arms protectively around her waist, cursing herself for being such a damn coward. What was it about telling the man she loved him that scared the crap out of her?

The coroner’s van arrived and Doc Meade headed toward the table as his assistants unloaded a gurney from the van. He plopped down in a chair next to Jennifer and snagged a donut from the open box on the table.

“
They find anything yet?” asked the coroner as he munched on his donut.

“
No, they just left.” Jennifer responded. “The fisherman isn’t sure about the exact location, but he knows it’s close to some reeds near the North shoreline of the lake.”

“
You realize, Jennifer, that the girl he saw in the water may not be connected to our killer. Could have been a skinny dipper who swam too far from shore. Hell, it could be anybody.”

“
You’re right. It doesn’t fit our killer’s M.O. He has a propensity for posing the nude bodies of his victims at the site where he abducted them. So if he’s killed Brianna, we should find her body in a ditch near John Isaac’s place.”

Doc Meade nodded in agreement. He accepted the thermos Jennifer handed him and poured hot coffee into a paper cup.

“
Besides,” Jennifer added as she searched the blue sky for clouds. “It’s not raining.”

<><><>

Propped up on pillows in his bed, Tim ended his call with Lane and placed his cell phone back on the table. He leaned back against the pillows and thought he should get out to Bear Lake, but couldn
’t muster the energy. He listened to the sound of running water, as his wife, Megan entered the shower.