Relatively Rainey (7 page)

Instead, he followed the young man back to his home. He read the name on the return address labels neatly stickered to the mail the young man had already put out for morning pickup.

“Ummm, interesting. Good to know.”

He would keep an eye on this peeper from a distance. He’d learn his habits and the houses he hit, and if need be, pin his crimes on this budding sicko. He could drop a few dozen pairs of stolen underwear in this guy’s garage, slip a hard drive with incrementing images in the heater vent, and watch the cops eat him alive before they figured out his DNA didn’t match the evidence. Even then, the prosecution could claim contamination at the lab, throw out the DNA, and convict on the possession of the stolen items and pictures. That would be fun. The future looked bright as he wandered back home through the woods. Yeah, that would be fun.

#

7:15 AM, Saturday, February 14, 2015

Colfax Park Drive, Chatham County, NC

“Holy shit, Sheila, my house is less than three-quarters of a mile from here.” Rainey pointed over her shoulder.

“I know,” Sheila said. “I’m sure it’s disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting? I’ve never been so glad to live in a fortress with redundant security systems in my life.”

Sheila laughed. “I thought you pretty much lived in a state of euphoria over that virtually impenetrable wall you’ve built around your family.”

“It’s the virtually part that keeps me vigilant,” Rainey said, in all seriousness.

“So, let’s catch this creep.”

“That’s not going to be so easy.”

Sheila looked around the latest victim’s room. Paige Jeanerette was an eighteen-year-old high school senior. Her room reflected her bookish, introverted personality, and she seemed to have dedicated her life and much of her wall space to the Hunger Games.

“What’s he doing, Rainey? Why is he back to fetish crimes? And what the hell is this all about?”

Sheila pointed at Paige’s laptop on the desk in the corner. A word document left open on the screen contained a message to the young woman who occupied this room.

The note read, “I seen you at school in class. I think your pretty. I’m scared to talk to you. I hope you don’t be mad I took the panties. Its cause I like you.”

“He’s just playing with us and terrorizing her. Bad grammar and spelling—he’s trying to mimic a teenager, make her look over her shoulder.”

Sheila slapped the laptop closed with her latex-gloved hand. “I hate this guy. I mean I really, really hate this guy. I want his balls on a plaque in my office.”

“Sorry, but that isn’t going to happen,” Rainey said, looking out the window to the woods behind the house.

“You don’t think we’ll catch him?” Sheila questioned, incredulously.

“We’ll catch him, but you won’t get his balls. When he’s cornered, he’ll come peacefully. He’s too smart to go out in a blaze of glory. No, the guys at the BAU will be talking to him for years to come, albeit from death row.”

“Maybe he’ll hit the wrong woman, someone like you who’ll put a bullet in his ass, save the state some money.”

“You do know I’ve never actually killed anyone. I’ve had opportunities, but nope, not a one. I’m not the ‘out of control badass’ Cookie Kutter would have people believe.”

“You watch that show?”

Rainey laughed and fibbed a little. “No, but Katie does. She says she likes to know what the enemy is up to. I can always tell when Cookie uses that clip of Katie punching her. That pisses her off, but between you and me, I think Katie’s glad she did it.”

Sheila chuckled. “I can’t help it. I love that clip. I saved it to my computer for days when I’d like to do something similar to Ms. Kutter.”

Rainey smiled at her friend. “Me too, but Katie doesn’t know.”

“Well, let’s get you back home to your Valentine’s weekend. I know last year’s plans were a bust.”

“I made no plans this year. I didn’t want to jinx it. Katie is in charge, and I am blissfully ignorant of what lies in store.”

“Just remember to take your weapon. You, of all people, can never be too prepared.”

“Always,” Rainey answered absently, refocused on the room. “Okay, back to business. This is a straight up fetish burglary with sadistic tones. The note is meant to extend his terror. But, there is nothing new here, nothing to learn, other than he’s treading water.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s bored. The patrols slowed him down but haven’t stopped him. I don’t think this is regression, though. I think he’s planning his next step up the sadistic ladder. This guy is a thinker. He has a fantasy—he fulfills it. He moves on to the next fantasy, seeking a higher high each time. It took him two years to build up to what he did to Shayna Carson. He spent more time with her than the others, extending her suffering as long as possible. He appears to be going through sexual sadist school, but if you look at the last four months, he leapt from middle school to college. Postgraduate work is next. Keep an eye out for missing women.”

“He’s not a kidnapper,” Sheila countered.

“He wants more time. He needs more time, more privacy, a chance to focus only on his victim without fear of interruption. He has a private place. I bet it’s near those Chatham County scenes down by the river. That’s how you’ll find him. Locate the lair. I’d deploy deputies in that area, account for all the residents. You’re looking for a man who visits, but doesn’t live there. Locate the owners of vacated structures and seasonally occupied homes, hunting cabins, fish camps, anywhere a lone man would go unnoticed.”

“Women go missing all the time. How will we know he took her?”

“Victimology should at least give you a clue. She’ll be white, twenty-five to forty-five, live alone on a property near the woods, and if he is the planner I believe him to be, she will have no close relatives or friends that would notice her weekend absence.”

Rainey pulled the latex gloves from her hands and locked eyes with Sheila.

“Realistically? You will know when you find the body.”

#

8:15 PM, Saturday, February 21, 2015

A Place For Us Charity Ball

Feme Sole Nightclub, Durham, NC

Rainey leaned against the wall near the entrance as the woman she adored stepped into the center stage spotlight. The large women's bar inside a former tobacco warehouse was decorated to fit the refinement of the evening. Diamonds and jewels glinted at every table in the dimly lit hall. Hundreds of haute couture wearing guests with exceedingly deep pockets sat at elegantly decorated tables. The bar owner, Phyllis, stood nearby, grinning at the stage. She too had been placed under the spell of the beautiful blonde at the microphone.

Katie had called out the country club set and the left-leaning movers and shakers in the Triangle area. They were there to raise money for homeless LGBTQ youth. Kids were on the street because parents threw them out or made life a living hell from which escape was the only means of survival. Molly Kincaid, Rainey’s friend, lawyer, and sometime employer recruited Katie to head the fundraising campaign knowing Ms. Bell-Meyers could bring a crowd, and that she did.

Rainey’s infatuation with Katie had never worn thin in the nearly five years they had been together. It seemed to grow stronger every day. The red dress Katie wore was stunning, but Rainey thought her wife more attractive with pancake batter on her cheek and triplets at her feet, just a few hours ago. The three-year-olds were fussy and wanted breakfast for supper. Katie, the triplet whisperer, went to dress for the ball after she fed and washed them, leaving Rainey to wrestle the hyper trio into pajamas and bed. The children noted Katie’s transformation into the sexiest mom in the room, when she came in to kiss them goodnight.

“Mommy is pretty,” Mack said.

“Mommy is pretty,” Timothy echoed.

Weather, the only girl and lover of all things shiny and expensive, pointed at the diamond necklace around Katie’s neck, “Mommy is sparkly.”

Rainey’s mother, Constance, the overnight babysitter for the evening, took over the kid watch because they had to be supervised. They were into everything, constantly on the move. Katie was the only person they didn’t try to outmaneuver. She never raised her voice and rarely lost patience with the children, yet they obeyed Katie without question. Rainey figured it was because Katie was the main food source. They pulled most of their worst stunts when Rainey was watching them. Their latest escapade involved stealing Katie’s makeup bag from the master suite bedroom, decorating the nursery and each other while they were supposed to be napping.

Rainey dressed under Katie’s watchful eye. She had refused to wear a man’s tuxedo and an evening gown was simply out of the question—not convenient for hiding her weapon—but the fundraiser was a black tie affair. Katie found a tailor who could recreate the look of the 1966 Yves Saint Laurent Le Smoking tuxedo for women and presented it to Rainey as a gift. The tailor had required a final fitting, which included Rainey wearing her sidearm. He wanted to make sure she didn’t mess up the lines with a bulge in the wrong place. The Glock was a no-go with the tailor. They compromised on a smaller weapon and a holster close to her ribcage. Katie had not seen the finished product.

When Rainey stepped out of the walk-in closet dressing area still working on a cuff link, she said, “Thank you, honey. This is the most comfortable suit I’ve ever worn.”

Katie smiled and winked, saying, “Oh no, thank you.”

Now Rainey leaned on the wall and smiled at the pretty mommy on stage, listening as Katie wrapped up her short speech.

“Forty percent of the homeless youth in America are from the LGBTQ community. The Internet provides exposure to worldviews, opening minds and presenting opportunities. Along with this newfound awareness, the strides forward in social acceptance have given many young men and women the knowledge that they are not alone and the strength to be themselves. They are now revealing hidden truths to family and friends at earlier ages than ever before. These children are still dependent on the adults in their lives for food, shelter, and financial support. While many families are embracing and loving, others use archaic belief systems to justify throwing a child out into the street. These children need our help, and that is why we are here tonight.

Thank you all for coming and for the expression of care and concern you have shown our youth. I don’t like to use words like straight ally, which some would use to describe those of you in this room who are heterosexual. The only label necessary to comprehend that we are all equal is human. We are all human beings deserving of respect and the right to be our unique selves, loving whom we choose. Thank you again for being compassionate souls caring for all of us. Have a wonderful evening.”

Katie began making her way from the stage to the back of the room, stopping to speak to guests. Molly walked over to Rainey, accompanied by her girlfriend, Leslie. Leslie had become Katie’s closest friend. The four of them spent many social evenings together.

“Is your babysitter spending the night?” Molly asked.

“Yes,” Rainey answered. “Why?”

“Because if the way you’re looking at your wife is an indication of your intentions, you two are going to need some alone time.”

Katie arrived and stood on her tiptoes to give Rainey a quick kiss on the lips. “Hey, good lookin’. How’d I do?”

“You were perfect,” Rainey said, beaming back at her.

Molly and Leslie gave Katie hugs and congratulations on the event’s success. Wendy joined them. She she was twenty-four years old and the mirror image of her older sister at that age. Wendy’s evening gown was exquisite, matching the green of her eyes. The dress was the direct result of a shopping spree with Leslie and Katie, who were determined to dress Wendy properly because Rainey was a lost cause.

“Katie, that was a great speech and you look fantastic,” Wendy said, hugging her. She waved over Katie’s shoulder at Rainey. “Hi, sis.”

Rainey waved her fingers back at Wendy, realizing she was mimicking behavior she used with her kids. Life changed for her every day, even as some things remained the same. Rainey didn’t want to think about nightmares and past mistakes tonight. Katie was dazzling, the night out with good friends was just beginning, and they had a babysitter. Life was good at the moment.

As Wendy introduced her date, Rainey noticed Molly glaring at him. The date was a casual one. Two young professionals attending an event, Wendy explained earlier. With no steady boyfriend, she was focused on her career, as Rainey had been once.

“Rainey, Katie, I’d like to introduce you to Nick Prentiss. Nick, this is my sister, Rainey Bell-Meyers and her wife, Katie Bell-Meyers.”

Rainey and Katie shook Nick’s hand and exchanged greetings. He was starkly handsome. His dark hair and tanned skin contrasted with his hazel eyes and playfully pouty pink lips. His tuxedo was not a rental, but a tailored fit worthy of his model good looks. He was also charming.

“I can see the family resemblance,” Nick said. “It’s a compliment to both you and Wendy.”

Rainey took note that Molly still glared at Nick. She wanted to know what was up, so she sped things along.

“Nick, these are our friends, Molly Kincaid and Leslie Walker.”

Leslie stuck her hand out first and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Nick.”

Molly never lifted a finger. Instead, she said, “Sleeping with the enemy, Wendy? Hello, Nick. Aren’t you just a little too Fox News for this crowd?”

Rainey grinned. She loved to watch Molly take somebody on, even if it was her sister’s date. Molly was usually the last one to show her colors. She must have had an intense dislike for this young man. It was sure to be entertaining.

Nick came back with, “Ms. Kincaid, you’ll find I’m a man of many passions. It’s good to see you again.”

“Your passions are for sale, I take it,” Molly quipped.

“Of course,” Nick answered honestly. “A good lobbyist can be passionate about anything if the price is right. I’m paid to sway people to my clients' position, much like you make a living swaying juries on your clients' behalf. It’s not my fault the system is broken. I’m merely making money until they fix it. It isn’t any more of a crime than representing a murderer in court.”