Girl, Vanished (An Ella Dark FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 5)

by Blake Pierce

  Mia decided to just explain it all in full. Melissa clearly wasn’t going to figure it out. She moved over to the victim and pointed to his right temple. “You see this hole? It’s bigger than the hole on the left side. What does that mean?”

  “That the bullet entered on the right side?” Melissa said with a smile.

  “Yes. The bullet entered in the right and exited on the left. What does that tell you about our man?”

  “Umm,” Melissa stumbled. “That he shot himself in the head?” She said it with a lighthearted tone that Mia didn’t appreciate.

  “No, it suggests our victim was right-handed. You ever held a gun before?”

  Melissa’s eyes glanced towards the ceiling. “A few times.”

  “And what hand do you pull the trigger with? Your dominant hand, yes?”

  “Yeah, my right.”

  “Yes, because pulling the trigger requires a good amount of force, not to mention it’s easier to aim and control with your dominant hand. Now, look around this apartment. What do you see?”

  “Just… normal stuff,” Melissa shrugged. “TV, table, clock. What am I looking for?”

  Mia pointed to the two wall sockets. “Only the left-hand sockets have been used.” She motioned for Melissa to join her in the kitchen. “See this knife? It has butter on the right-hand side of it, meaning our guy swipes from the left. He isn’t right-handed; he’s left-handed.”

  It took Melissa a moment to connect the dots. “Woah, wait a second. You mean these two little things prove he was left-handed? What if it’s a coincidence? Or what if someone else buttered this knife?”

  “No, there are other things too. Look at the layout of the room. People naturally put their important possessions on their dominant side. Righties put their TVs and furniture on the right side of the room, lefties the opposite. This entire place is a leftie’s apartment. And now, look at the things on the table in front of our guy. Magazine, water, both placed to his right. Bullet wound on the right. No left-handed person is gonna shoot with their right. It’s not natural.”

  Melissa looked like she’d just been told the secrets of the universe. “Oh, wowza. That’s incredible. So, you’re saying he didn’t kill himself?”

  Mia was happy Melissa finally put the pieces together but frustrated it took longer than a few minutes. “No, this whole scene has been staged. Plus there’s the matter of the drugs. That’s sativa weed he’s smoking judging by the smell. Sativa and cocaine are the busy man’s drugs. They help with focus and concentration. If he was going to off himself, he’d take something to sedate him. There’s plenty of alcohol to choose from and he didn’t.”

  Melissa’s face flushed white, like she’d just heard a story and completely missed the take-home message. Mia saw a touch of embarrassment and suddenly wondered if she wasn’t coming across condescending. Back in the day, she wouldn’t care about such things, but the rookie had made her more self-aware when dealing with non-professionals.

  “Damn. I can’t believe I didn’t see that. I didn’t even consider it. You think this was a murder?”

  “I have no doubt,” Mia said. “Water and a fishing magazine? This guy lives on drugs and sugar, and there are no fishing hotspots around here for miles. This guy had enemies and we need to find out who.”

  Melissa stood in place, taking it all in. But even so, Mia couldn’t really see the cogs whirring in her mind. If this was Ella, she’d already have a theory and be desperate to get back to base. Melissa looked like a kid lost in the fog. Mia put her hand on her arm.

  “It’s alright if you didn’t see it right away. Learning these things takes time, and that’s why I’m here with you, alright?”

  Melissa thanked her, made a few notes, then continued looking around the apartment. If there was one thing Mia was certain of, it was that this new partner wouldn’t take any chances any time soon. She wouldn’t keep her in the dark. Mia had learned to read people in record time over her thirty years in the game, and Melissa Santos wasn’t the type to take risks, nor was she type to visit an old nemesis behind Mia’s back.

  No, very few people had the balls to do that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ella and Byford sat in the back of the cab together en route to the fresh crime scene. They’d been seated in standard class on the flight there and they hadn’t even been seated together. It must have been a perk of Mia’s notoriety that allowed them business class on their previous flights.

  He seemed like a decent enough man but appeared a little closed off to her. His head was always down, hidden in his laptop or his casefile. He said they would have a lot to talk about but hadn’t made any effort so far.

  “Nigel, I hear you’re from counterterrorism?” Ella asked.

  Byford didn’t look up. He typed away on his laptop. “I am. I spent over ten years there. Where are you from?”

  “I was an Intelligence Analyst for seven years. Well, I still am, technically,” said Ella.

  Byford shut down his screen and looked her way for the first time since arriving in Delaware. It seemed she had his attention now.

  “You still are? You’re not a field agent?”

  “Not really. I was a guinea pig for the new recruitment system. They pulled me from Intelligence about six months ago and partnered me with Agent Ripley. Whenever there’s no active case, I go back to my old job, but I haven’t done a whole lot there this year, actually.”

  Byford squinted like he was focusing on a tiny molecule on Ella’s forehead. “That’s odd. I thought they were partnering me with a true field agent.”

  The words stung a little. Ella acknowledged the pain and dealt with it. She let it go. She didn’t want to get off to a bad start with this guy.

  “I’ve got four cases solved. All the ones I’ve worked on, actually. Let’s hope we can get another in the books.”

  “I see,” Byford said. “I’m sure Agent Ripley played a considerable role, no?”

  Frustration rose up. Was this guy trying to undermine her? She kept a level head, still. “She certainly did. We both did.”

  “Why did your relationship cease?” Byford asked. “Seems strange to part a successful duo.”

  Ella toyed with the notion of lying, something that was fast becoming commonplace in her life. No, there’d already been enough of that. She went for broke.

  “We fell out. I did something and she didn’t approve. Then it went downhill.”

  “Oh,” Byford looked a little taken aback. “I’m sorry to hear that. I won’t inquire further.”

  Ella thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to tell him the finer details. At least she’d addressed the issue without lying, she thought. “And what about you?”

  “I started in ballistics, then moved to terrorism for ten years. Two years ago, I moved into less specialized field work. I worked a few murder cases, some of which are still ongoing. Now I’m making my first visit to Delaware.”

  Quite a resume, Ella thought, but she wanted to know about the man, not the career. “How come you left terrorism and came here? Did you want to track down serial killers? Are you interested in them?”

  “Not at all, but they come with the territory. How come you were chosen to do this job?” Byford asked. “Not to make assumptions, but you don’t look the field type.”

  Ella was getting a little concerned now. Did this guy have something against her? “Ripley picked me because I have a photographic memory.”

  Byford stared out the window then turned back to Ella. “A photographic memory? How does that help?”

  Ella pursed her lips together to stop her from saying something she shouldn’t. “Because serial killers follow patterns. I’ve committed every piece of serial killer information to memory. Names, dates, victim info, methodologies, death sites. It’s all up here,” she tapped her head. “Not on purpose, I should admit. It happened by accident, but it got me here.”

  “Very interesting. I’m impressed,” Byford said. His words didn’t match the look o
n his face. Maybe he just wasn’t very expressive. “What do you think of this case?” he asked.

  Newark, Delaware, looked like a cozy city from where she sat. She spotted some nice European architecture and lots of family stores. It didn’t have that big city vibe and that was a bonus.

  “I think we’re dealing with an organized psychopath,” Ella said. “I think our unsub knows exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes. He has a goal, and nothing will stop him achieving it. What about you?”

  “These coins. I don’t know what to make of them. Are they symbolic of money problems? Maybe these men were in debt to our killer? Or is it something more sinister, something that doesn’t make sense to regular people?”

  “We’ll figure it out. The one advantage we have is that this man is organized, which means his thoughts are organized too. He isn’t schizophrenic or psychotic. The coins have a verifiable, understandable meaning and we’ll search hell and high water to uncover it.”

  “Have coins appeared in any other serial cases?” Byford asked.

  “Not in the same way as this. The closest one that comes to mind is Daniel LaPlante, a stalker who left a trail of coins in a girl’s” house to let her know he’d been there. Eyes are a different story. There are two major serial killers who focused on their victims’ eyes. Charles Albright and Andrei Chikatilo. But again, not like this.”

  “So, we’re covering new ground,” Byford said.

  “Looks like it.” Ella’s phone buzzed. She checked it and found a message from Mark.

  Did you get there safely? X

  Ella replied. Yep, the eagle has landed. They’ve teamed me with a guy named Byford. Do you know him? x

  On their chat screen, Ella saw Mark was typing already. The message came through.

  Who? Never heard of him. What’s his deal?

  Ella’s turn. He’s nice enough, but he seems a bit closed off. We’ll see. How are you doing? X

  She expected another quick reply, but nothing came. She waited on the screen for Mark to come online. It took about a minute for him to respond.

  So you’re spending the next week with a guy? Great. Well, have fun.

  Had she said something wrong? What was Mark’s problem? She couldn’t help who she was partnered with, and she wasn’t in any position to refuse the director or make her own demands. Mark would come around once he realized there was no danger of anything happening. It wasn’t like Byford was a chiseled young stud, and even if he was, didn’t Mark trust her?

  She hoped this jealousy thing was a one-off, but really, she shouldn’t have to hope.

  ***

  They arrived at their destination at just after midday. A pleasant street hidden away from public view, sitting between a small, wooded area at the front and a cemetery backing onto the rear. It was isolated, but not isolated enough to suggest the victim was chosen for their solitude.

  Yellow crime scene tape barred the pathway up to the house. One officer stood by and dissected the new arrivals with a cold stare. Byford led the way.

  “Agent Byford and Agent Dark with the FBI,” he said to the officer. “We’ve been called in to assist.” They held up their badges for inspection. The officer waved them through without a word.

  At the top of the path, another officer came out of the house wearing a mask and gloves. “Feds?” he asked. “That you guys?”

  “That’s us, sir,” Byford said. “And you are?”

  “Sheriff Hunter with the NDPD. I’m the one who called in for help.” He took off his protective equipment.

  He was a middle-aged man, around fifty Ella thought. He had gray hair and a strong physique that contrasted the wrinkles on his forehead. “Can you talk us through what happened?” she asked.

  Sheriff Hunter breathed in the spring air. It was probably a great relief after consuming the scent of death.

  “Yeah, we got the call around three this morning. The victim’s wife, a lovely woman named Tessa Loveridge, had come home from a night shift and found her husband, Jimmy, dead in his chair. She didn’t see him at first. Thought he was just sleeping. Then she tried to wake him up and saw… everything.”

  Ella’s stomach tied up when she played the scene out in her head. She’d also found a loved one dead in their bed. She knew that the victim’s wife would spend the rest of her life replaying the scene every time she felt vulnerable. It was a natural defense mechanism: pulling out the worst nightmare you could to numb the others.

  “Where’s the victim’s wife right now?” Ella asked. She wanted to meet her but understood if she didn’t want to be around. She’d probably never be able to come back here again.

  “Staying with a relative for now. Best to leave her be for a while. She was still in hysterics when she left.”

  “Is the crime scene untouched?” Byford asked.

  “No. The croakers already took the body, but everything else is as is.” The sheriff put a roach filter in his mouth as he rolled a cigarette.

  “The who?” Byford asked.

  “Coroners,” Ella said.

  Sheriff Hunter sparked up. “Sorry. Cop slang. You’ll get used to it around here. Grab a mask and gloves off the side and take a look.”

  They did. Ella entered into a kitchen and put herself in the wife’s shoes. She’d be home from work, tired, probably looking forward to kicking her feet up. She walked through the long kitchen then round into the living area. A sofa lay against one wall with a single chair on the other side. It was obvious where the murder had taken place.

  “Holy smokes, that’s a lot of blood,” Byford said. “That means the laceration was made while the victim was alive.”

  Ella thought about how it might be possible to pull off such a task. “So, our killer snuck up behind Jimmy and slit his throat, all without him moving.”

  Byford rubbed his chin. “Maybe Jimmy was sleeping? We don’t know what time he was killed. It could have been right before his wife came home in the early hours.”

  “Could very well have been,” Ella said. She imagined the victim in place, sitting there peacefully, unaware there was an intruder within grabbing distance. “How did he get in? That’s the next question.” Ella walked around the house, finding a conservatory just off the living room. Byford joined her.

  “Looks like that garden backs on the cemetery at the back. He could easily get in through there.”

  “Agreed. That’s the route I’d take. He could stay invisible until he got to the door.” Ella checked the conservatory door leading out into the garden. Open.

  “Looks like we have our answer,” Byford said. “Tragic, really.”

  “It’s a damn shame, but he might have broken this door open. Let’s not assume Jimmy and Tessa just left it open.”

  “We need to talk to Tessa, get her statement.”

  Footsteps sounded behind them and Sheriff Hunter appeared. Ella smelled the lingering scent of stale smoke. “He must have come over the back. This door was open when we got here. When’ll people learn to lock their doors, huh?”

  Ella refrained from agreeing. Blaming the victim for their carelessness was a cop out. The sheriff held up a small plastic bag in front of the agents.

  “You might want to take a look at these,” he continued. Ella took them and held them to the light.

  “The coins from the eyes.”

  “Yeah. I’m not seeing anything special about them myself. I thought a better mind than me might catch something though.”

  Two silver half-dollars, both identical. The face of the coin featured the side portrait of a very familiar image.

  “Is that Kennedy?” Byford asked.

  “That’s Kennedy alright,” said the sheriff.

  LIBERTY. IN GOD WE TRUST. 1964.

  “1964? This coin must be a collectible,” said Ella.

  “It is a collectible but not exactly rare. You can probably pick this up off the Internet for five dollars these days.”

  “You already checked?” Ella asked.

/>   “I had a quick look, but I had a few special coins myself back in the day. Kennedy ’64s were common as mud.”

  The coins were rusted with age. Only a glimmer of silver was left on them. “Can we get them reviewed? Appraised? There might be something on them that tells us where they’re from.”

  “Once they’ve gone for fingerprinting, I’ll see what I can do,” Hunter said.

  Ella pictured the killer placing the coins on Jimmy’s eyes, lodging them in with force. The brief flicker of light from them would have given the impression of life, like sparkling eyes forced to watch their own deaths. Maybe that was it, Ella thought. A dead body propped up to look alive, only for the finder to suddenly realize the grim truth. Without hope, there was no true despair.

  “What do you think the coins mean?” Sheriff Hunter asked.

  Ella handed them back to him. “Right now, I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Their new office for the foreseeable future was a single room at the NDPD precinct in downtown Newark. Ella knew the process pretty well by now. Sheriff Hunter led them through the open floor plan, past an endless clutter of desks into their rooms at the back. Ella and Byford got a few discerning looks as they came through, but most of the officers offered smiles and well-wishes as they passed by. In most cases, local officers were happy for the FBI to join their investigation because it meant less work on the whole.

  Ella set up her rig in the gray office. The rectangular window offered a glimpse of the Delaware streets below. Distracting, but it was better than looking at blank walls. Byford set up opposite her.

  The casefile was around thirty pages thick. Ella began reading everything about the first victim.

  “Alan Yates, 59 years old. He lived eight miles from the second victim,” Ella said aloud. “Everything looks the same here. Same killing method, same modus operandi, same signature. The victims were even pretty close in age too.”

  Byford tapped his pen between his teeth. “You know, after seeing that house, it doesn’t look like Jimmy was struggling for money. They seemed pretty well-off.”