Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) (3 page)

“Who is Sally Mayes?” Brandon asked when Maggie ended her call.

“Hold on.” She put a hand up and spoke again, this time to a sheriff’s office. After she explained the situation, he heard her thank the person on the line for dispatching a patrol car. She disconnected the call and breathed a sigh too content for Brandon’s liking. She settled back in her seat. The hunt had just begun. She couldn’t take a break now.

“Mayes?” Brandon asked again.

“Oh, right. Well—”

“Just a minute.” He felt a slight buzz, so he dug into the back right pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell. “Marshal Worth.” He turned his head slightly toward Maggie, as if he felt her gaze. Maggie quickly looked away. He saw her nervousness in the reflection of the window. Brandon fought a grin.
She’s attracted to me
. “I’m with her now and we’re heading your way. Is the bus available for another run-through? Great. What’s the word on the rest of the transfers? Fantastic, we’ll see you in fifteen.” Brandon ended the call. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

Maggie looked up from her notes. “Mayes was Burrows’s last victim.”

“Last? She survived?”

“Thankfully. When we put the pieces together, she had just been kidnapped. He was about to—” She struggled to steady her voice. “We raided his residence and found them in the second basement.”

Brandon’s head pounded. “Second basement?”

Maggie nodded. “The modifications he made to his mother’s house is a whole other conversation, believe me. But yes, he was just about to begin what we believe was a torture routine. Seeing as how we’ve never found the other bodies, we don’t know for sure. We only have Sally’s testimony.”

Maggie ran a hand through her hair and Brandon caught a whiff of her soft floral scent. He inhaled deeply. When did he last notice a woman’s scent?
Emily
… She wore a similar scent: fresh, almost like spring. He didn’t think anything could smell so sweet after her.

“All we know is other than a few bruises she incurred from being abducted and transferred to his basement, she was relatively unharmed, physically. We caught him with a small paring blade in his hands.” Maggie sighed and then spoke softly. “I can only imagine what almost happened.”

Brandon’s jaw hardened. “That never helps, trust me. What could’ve happened? What the other victims went through? You could go crazy wondering.” Brandon sensed Maggie’s assessing gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Living his life through the dark prism of his past had started to take its toll on his present outlook. Five years ago, he was a different man. Five years ago, he didn’t need to ask “what if.” Brandon reached inside his shirt and fingered the small, diamond-crusted cross that hung from his neck.

Maggie continued. “The hypotheticals? A lot of profiling, and investigation as a whole, is establishing and eliminating hypotheticals to get to the real story.” Maggie looked reflectively out her window. “But in our line of work, it gets you wondering—”

The cross slipped from his fingers and landed outside its hiding place. “Yeah, where’s God in all of this?” Brandon interjected.
Stop
. He had asked that question time and time again. The answer? God’s silence. He grimaced.

Maggie angled toward him. “I think, although we don’t always understand why certain things happen, in order to get through the day you have to believe He’s still in control.”

Brandon bit his lip. The muscles around his heart constricted and he fought the urge to allow her statement to root. How many times after the incident did he hear those exact words? How many people who hadn’t gone through what he had, shared that very same insight? Before, he would’ve started an argument, claimed Maggie didn’t know what she was talking about, but he remained silent. She didn’t know anything about him.

He saw her look at his chest.
The cross
. He tucked it back beneath his shirt. Her eyes remained on him. She was either curious about his apparent bitterness —
get your head in the game, Brandon
—or trying to profile him; he couldn’t determine which. His affairs were his business, and he didn’t need or want anyone psychoanalyzing him. He heard the leather of the steering wheel squeak beneath his grip. “Tell me more about Mayes.”

After a long moment, Maggie responded. “Well, despite where we found her, we couldn’t find his other victims.”

“Aren’t they always in the basement?” he asked sarcastically.

“You would think. Burrows has refused to speak on the matter. Even his attorney admitted he couldn’t get him to cooperate. We searched the woods surrounding his family home and came up empty. So many families live without closure.”

Her last statement sounded wistful.
No, empathetic
. He would catch this guy.

Maggie’s phone rang and she answered it quickly. “Oh, hi, Patricia. Um, no, I haven’t forgotten.” Unease filled her voice. “Actually, I’m so sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. Could you please apologize to Jaden for me?”

Brandon’s nerves pricked.
Who’s Jaden?

“Yes, it’s a case. Look, Patty, it’s really important. I wouldn’t cancel otherwise. Um, no, I can’t divulge whom I’m working with. Patty,” she put a hand to her temple, her lips dipped into a slight frown, “I have to go. I’ll call as soon as I’m able. Talk to you soon.” She sighed and then gave him a sheepish smile. “My sister, Patty.”

Brandon kept his gaze forward. “Did you have to cancel a hot date tonight?”

Maggie giggled nervously. “Something like that. Here we are.” They pulled into the temporary holding facility for prisoners. “Burrows was housed here throughout the trial.”

“He wasn’t tried near Culpeper?”

“His lawyer argued for a change of venue. I guess he thought Burrows wouldn’t get a fair trial near his hometown.”

“That’s understandable,” he said. “But he’s a serial killer. Wherever he’s tried, he’d be found guilty.”

“I agree.”

Brandon drove toward the back of the building. A row of white, parked prisoner transfer buses came into view. They exited the SUV and a facility manager walked toward them, hand extended.

“This is Agent Weston.” Brandon introduced the two.

“Marshal, Agent Weston, right this way.” He proceeded toward the buses. “Now, I know you’ve gone over the bus, Marshal, but just for your information, Agent Weston, nothing in the bus has been altered since the crime-scene investigators went through. We’ll be waiting for your word to release it for future use. And the blood splatter you’ll see near the steering wheel belongs to the driver.”

“Thank you, Bob. I received a call from the lead scene investigator and nothing out of the ordinary stood out, except the note,” Brandon added.

“Ah, right, the note.” The manager turned to Maggie. “I guess that’s the reason you’re here, Agent Weston.”

Maggie nodded.

“She was the profiler who put Burrows away, Bob,” Brandon added.

Bob’s face showed lines of worry. “I remember hearing about that guy in the news when he was first arrested. Well, you must be pretty excited to work on this case again.”

Maggie grimaced. “Not quite.”

The Department of Correction’s logo separated as the bus doors folded open. Brandon motioned for Maggie to step up first. He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her. She slowly ascended, and kept her hands to her sides. He watched her as she looked around the bus, first at the steering wheel, and then toward the rows of seats. Her face was absent any emotion, professional. Brandon glanced around him. He hoped he didn’t miss anything the first time around. CSI didn’t catch anything after Brandon noticed the note left in Burrows’s seat. The only evidence recovered, other than a few unlatched shackles and the testimony of the prisoners who did not escape, were the physical signs of the bus driver’s struggle. Brandon prided himself on being a stickler for details, but if she found something he didn’t…

Maggie turned to him, her eyes questioning. Brandon pointed to where Burrows had been seated. Brandon’s forensic senses heightened as he watched Maggie bend and stoop. She removed the note from her jacket pocket and unfolded it. She turned the paper over in her hands a couple of times. “You are next,” she breathed. Her deep brown eyes turned to his. “How did you find the note?”

Brandon gently took the note from her hand, re-folded it, and squeezed it between the seat until only a small piece, in the shape of a triangle, could be seen. He put his hands on his hips and waited. A minute or two passed when he cleared his throat. She remained unmoved, her intent stare on the tiny amount of visible paper.

“It wasn’t out in the open for just anyone to see and possibly pick up.” Maggie bent and slowly pulled the paper out. “He wanted law enforcement to find it,” she said decidedly. Her eyes held the same confidence.

He shrugged. “The Marshals? Of course we would be the ones inspecting the bus for clues on his escape and future whereabouts.”

“Of course. But unfortunately, the bigger question is who is the message
really
for.”

****

“Later, Bob, thanks,” Brandon called out of the driver’s side window to the facility manager as they drove away. “So, back to your office?”

Maggie nodded. The bus puzzled her. “You were right. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the bus. There were no markings, no stressed areas on the seats or walls to indicate it was anything more than a struggle to break free.” Maggie glanced at the rectangular bulge in Brandon’s front pocket. “I saw you on your phone a little while ago. Was that the hospital? How’s the driver?”

“A few stitches and some pain meds for the bump on the head he received. He’s awake and giving his statement. I’ll have the interviewing officer email to you.” He shot Maggie a quick glance. “The position of the note is significant?”

Maggie faced him. “Oh, I absolutely believe so. If the note was left out on the seat, even unfolded, another prisoner would’ve likely picked it up for curiosity’s sake. The risk of it being discarded and not reaching the intended party was too great. Burrows placed it in an area where someone who would be looking there would find it. I mean, the tiny triangle would hardly be noticed by anyone other than the trained eye.”

Brandon assessed her with curious eyes. “What would be your next move?”

Maggie let out a breath of exasperation. She ran both hands through her hair. “Honestly? I hate to say it, but we have to start from scratch.” She unzipped her purse, and searched for her phone.

“Scratch?”

Maggie pressed a speed dial number on her phone.
Scratch
. Well, at least they knew who they were looking for, but where would Burrows go? What would he do? She never worked on a case where she had to profile beyond capture. The circumstances changed. The impossibility of knowing whom or what Burrows targeted in his new setting loomed large on Maggie’s mind. The FBI based her career outlook solely on her identifying Burrows in the first investigation. If she couldn’t capture him now, how would her abilities be perceived? Maggie let out a quick breath as emotions threatened to run amok.

“I can’t necessarily assume he’d continue where he left off.” She angled her head away. “Doug? It’s Maggie. We’ll need anything and everything on the Burrows file, including all pictures of potential victims, and any addresses Burrows frequented in the past ten years. And I need you to brief the superintendent on putting together a team for this one.”

Maggie rotated her head so she could meet Brandon’s eyes. He did the same. “Doug, I need everyone you can get. Tell the Sup this takes priority. Okay, thank you.” She ended the call. “If you could take me back to the office, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You asked about my next move. Well, I also can’t assume he won’t pick up where he left off. That’s why I had to call Mayes.”

“I’ll have my supervisor contact yours to coordinate a task force. In the meantime, I think it’s important to return to the source.”

Maggie nodded. “I agree. His strongest tie is there.”

Brandon kneaded his neck with a free hand. “Please tell me this tie of his is a weakness,” he let out rather quickly.

“His tie is somewhat, um, not tangible, in a way.” Maggie tapped her teeth with a pen. This wasn’t going to be an easy case. Maggie wondered whether any of the information they had on Burrows bore any weight. Unique circumstances belonged to each serial killer. Each chose their prey in a different way: some personal, some random — or so it would seem to the average person. Some killed for a time and then stopped even if they were never caught. What Burrows would do now would be anyone’s guess. Being short on time compelled Maggie to make an educated one.

“Explain.” Brandon’s voice was heavy.

“Maxine Burrows. His mother was the instrument behind it all.”

“You mean she’s a part of this?” he asked rather incredulously.

“She’s dead. Burrows had a rather unnatural attachment to his mother. A gorgeous woman, actually — a timeless beauty. She died shortly before he claimed his first victim.” Maggie looked out of the window at the passing cars. Rush-hour traffic piled up and the early glow of dusk spread across the clear sky. “He was an only child, and she raised him as a single mother. No one exactly knows the story with his father, but he never provided any support, financial or emotional. When she passed, people said he turned inward. I believe he suffered from overwhelming grief.”

Brandon half snorted. “So, he just started killing women?”

“I often wondered at that part. But I agree with his visiting psychiatrists’ assessments. Burrows possesses an equal amount of hatred and love for his mother. The love kept him near her all his years, and the hatred manifested itself in the murders of nine women.”

“A hatred?”

“Yes, but I’m not exactly sure why. They lived in a modest home. He didn’t seem to lack anything as a child except a father. They weren’t poor, but Maxine didn’t make a fortune either. Yet, from what doctors deduced, the anger in him is acute. Probably because she died and left him, honestly.”

An eerie silence settled between them. Maggie unfiled details of Burrows case in her head to make them fresh for the investigation. Brandon’s phone rung and Maggie overheard him discussing the specifics of his next move with his supervisor.