Past Imperfect

by Remington Kane

  The black man woke first. Like his friends, he was sitting up in a metal chair with his wrists and ankles duck taped to the chair’s arms and legs. He was still groggy at first, then he noticed White and Jessica seated across from him and his eyes opened fully. He looked away from them to take in his surroundings. His eyes catalogued everything, including the lack of windows.

  “Are we underground?”

  “Why were you trying to abduct me?” White asked.

  The black man looked over at Sienna, who was still unconscious. “Do you recognize her?”

  “She’s Sienna Ross, an FBI agent.”

  The black man’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been keeping tabs on her all these years?”

  “I last laid eyes on her when I was seventeen, but I remembered her and had someone look into her background for us. Are you an FBI agent too?”

  “My name is Mark Powell. I’m a homicide detective from Little Rock. The other man is my partner, Cruz Rodriquez. And you, you’re a sick bastard who preys on women.” Powell turned his gaze on Jessica. “I feel like a fool. I told the others that there was no way that you were aware of what your husband was doing. I see now that I was wrong about you, Doctor. You must be as perverted as he is.”

  Jessica leaned over and whispered to her husband. He considered her words for a moment, then reached down and slid a blade from a concealed sheath inside his boot. Jessica took the knife from White, then stood to walk over to Mark Powell. Powell leaned back as far as he could in the chair as Jessica approached.

  “I’m not going to harm you; I’m going to free you,” Jessica told him. She cut the tape around Powell’s ankles before slicing through the tape that bound his right wrist. She handed Powell the knife. “You can finish freeing yourself, then see to your friends.”

  Powell took the knife while giving Jessica a strange look. He cut through the tape binding his left wrist, then rose from his seat to go to the chair where Sienna Ross was confined. Sienna was still unconscious, but she had begun to moan and move her head from side to side. Once Powell was done freeing her, he moved on and cut the tape that bound his partner, Cruz Rodriquez. Rodriquez never stirred but was making a faint snoring sound in his sleep. When he was done, Powell stood there with the knife hanging loosely at his side.

  “Now what?”

  “We talk,” White said. “To begin with, I’m not the type of man you believe me to be.”

  “I know what you are, White, and I know why you and your wife have been so successful all these years at catching serial killers. It takes one to know one, right?”

  “You’re half right,” Jessica said.

  Powell was going to ask her what she meant by that when Sienna’s head shot up and she looked around. She rose from her seat on shaky legs to stand beside Powell, who placed his arm around her.

  “Where are we, Mark?”

  “I think we’re underground.”

  Sienna looked at the knife in his hand. “How did you get free?”

  “Dr. White cut me loose then handed me the knife.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true. I think we may not have all the facts here.”

  The other man, Rodriquez, stirred, then sat up. “I have all the facts I need,” he said. Rodriquez stood, grabbed the knife from Powell, and advanced on White. As he thrust the blade at White’s abdomen, White halted the blade’s path by grabbing Rodriquez’s wrist.

  When he was unable to free himself from White’s grip, Rodriquez took a swing at him with his free hand. White grabbed his other wrist, tightened his grip on both of them, and drove the younger man to his knees. White’s grip was putting pressure on the carpal bones in Rodriquez’s wrists, causing the man to cry out in pain.

  “Drop the knife and I’ll release you.”

  Rodriquez let go of the blade and White freed his wrists. A moment later, White claimed the blade and secured it back inside his boot. Rodriquez had made it to his feet and walked back to stand near his friends, while shaking his sore wrists.

  White looked at the three of them, then locked eyes with Sienna. “I’m not a serial killer.”

  “You stalked me years ago. The police were onto you then, did you know that?”

  “I was stalking you then. I admit that. But you know that I never harmed you.”

  “Why is that? I’ve been wondering about that for nearly twenty-five years. Did you spot the police, or did I do something that gave away the fact you were under surveillance?”

  “I had no idea that the police were watching me back then.”

  “They had to give up waiting for you when you never showed up to stalk me again. Detective York, the man who ran the surveillance, he went to your home. Your mother told him that you had run off.”

  White realized how close he had come to being arrested back then. If he hadn’t seen Jessica and changed his plans, he would have been caught in the act of attempting to abduct Sienna and been imprisoned for years. And he hadn’t run off as his mother said. She had kicked him out of the house at seventeen.

  Rodriquez pointed at him. “We know what you are, White. A serial killer we recently arrested told us that you were a predator. They can sense each other, that type, but you know that already, don’t you?”

  “I am a predator. I admit that. But I don’t stalk women. Instead, I help my wife track down serial killers.”

  “You know what he is?” Sienna asked Jessica. The women were the same age and resembled each other.

  “I’ve always known who and what my husband is. And despite the urges that plagued him for most of his life, he’s a damn good man. He didn’t hurt you, Agent Ross, and he’s never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Now, I have a question for you. Why come at him this way? You’re an FBI agent and your friends are police detectives. Why the hell were you attempting to kidnap my husband?”

  “You’re influential, Dr. White. If I was to accuse your husband of being a serial killer with the evidence I have I would never be given the authority to arrest him.”

  “So what, you just decide to abduct him? And then what? Would you have killed him?”

  Rodriquez pointed at White. “The man has already admitted to being a predator. And I’m not buying his story about never stalking women.”

  “I don’t stalk women, Detective. I stalk other men who are like me. We’re on the same side.”

  “Bullshit, buddy. You’re a civilian. I’m a sworn member of law enforcement.”

  “You’re something else as well though, aren’t you? You’re a Sword Bearer.”

  Sienna, Powell, and Rodriquez looked at each other with worried expressions. White’s words had struck home.

  “Sword Bearers,” Jessica said. “Yes, now it makes sense.”

  There was a group of law enforcement personnel who referred to themselves as Sword Bearers.

  The statue of Lady Justice that could be found outside many courthouses displayed her as carrying scales in her left hand, in which she weighed evidence. In her right hand was a sword, and the sword was a symbol of punishment. Sword Bearers believed it was their duty to mete out that punishment, which usually resulted in the death of the guilty.

  “How do you know about the Sword Bearers?” Sienna asked.

  “Thomas Lawson mentioned them to me. Do you know who Lawson is?” White said.

  “I’ve heard of him. He’s influential and high up in government circles, but how do you know him?”

  “I occasionally help Thomas out when he has a problem that the law can’t handle.”

  “Help him out how?”

  “Like I said before, I’m a predator, but my prey is never innocent or defenseless. My wife and I have spent our lives going after the same people that you do. I’m no saint, Sienna, but I’m not a monster either.” White took his wife’s hand. “Jessica saved me from myself and I’m no longer a slave to my impulses.”

  “How can we know that’s true?” Powell said.

  “If I was the man you thought I was, you’d a
ll still be bound to those chairs. You would not have been freed to have this conversation with me. You might even be dead.”

  “Why now?” Jessica said to Sienna. “If you believed that my husband was a danger to women, then why wait so long to come after him?”

  Sienna sighed. “I wasn’t always a Sword Bearer. Two years ago, I believed that the law was enough and that being a vigilante was wrong. That… that belief cost me my husband. He was murdered by a man who’d been in and out of prison since he was a teenager. If he’d gotten the punishment he’d deserved, Robert, my husband, would still be alive.”

  Powell still had his arm around Sienna. She reached up to give his hand a squeeze before leaving him and walking over to stand before White.

  “If you plan to report us for what we attempted to do to you, please leave my friends out of it and let me take all the blame.”

  White walked over to the wall where there appeared to be a large gray tool cabinet. He swung open its doors to reveal that it was actually an elevator.

  “We’re not going to report this. You three can leave anytime you want.”

  Rodriquez came closer. He looked White up and down. “If I find out that you’ve been lying to us, I’ll be back.”

  “If you come after me again, Detective, I’ll hurt more than your wrists.”

  Rodriquez opened his mouth to reply but before he could speak, his partner, Powell, spoke to Jessica.

  “Dr. White. I want to apologize for what went on here today. I hope you understand that we all thought we were doing the right thing.”

  Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell that to my husband. He’s the one you owe an apology to.”

  “I understand that,” Powell said while smiling, “but you’re the one I want to ask a favor of.”

  Jessica cocked her head to the side. “What sort of favor?”

  “Kent Ballou, the man who killed Sienna’s husband. He’s avoided being arrested for his crimes and is out there somewhere living his life. You’ve been known to perform miracles when it comes to catching killers, Doctor. Help us catch this one.”

  Jessica let her arms fall to her sides. If Ballou had been on the run for two years, he could be anywhere and tracking him down might prove to be impossible. She was about to say as much when she looked over at her husband. White met her eyes and gave a slight nod of his head.

  Jessica looked back at Powell. “All right. My husband and I will do what we can.”

  “Really?” Sienna said.

  Jessica walked toward the elevator. “Let’s discuss this inside the house, and you can tell me everything you know about Kent Ballou.”

  White stepped onto the elevator, where he stood beside Sienna Ross. She looked up at him.

  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Name it,” White said.

  “If you do find Kent Ballou, don’t kill him. That’s a pleasure I want for myself.”

  “I’ll try my best to make that happen,” White said, as the elevator began to rise.

  Chapter 3

  Jessica and Mr. White spoke to Sienna, Powell, and Rodriquez for nearly an hour before the FBI agent and detectives left the home to stand beside the vehicle they had arrived in.

  As Powell and Rodriquez spoke with Jessica a few feet away, White told Sienna that they would do their best to find her husband’s killer. Sienna had studied him for long moments, then asked a question.

  “You agreed to do this because you feel you owe me something for having stalked me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you feel guilty about that?”

  White nodded, as his face colored slightly. It was more than guilt. He felt ashamed.

  Sienna gave a little laugh. “You’re not the monster I made you out to be in my mind all these years. I kept track of you. Two or three times a year I would look up your record to see if you had finally slipped up and been caught, but all I kept finding out was that you and your wife had been praised for solving a string of murders or catching another serial killer. I assumed that you only did that to throw suspicion off yourself.”

  “Did you attempt to have me investigated?”

  “What would have been the point? You know the reputation that you and your wife enjoy. My supervisors would have laughed me out of the office for even suggesting that you were a menace.”

  “We do what we do because we’re good at it. It also allows me to… be myself.”

  “A predator.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m guessing that you didn’t have a normal childhood.”

  “No. I did not.”

  Sienna looked at the Whites’ home. It was surrounded by acres of land and had been large when built. The structure had been added onto in recent years to suit their growing family.

  “You’ve made a nice life for yourself, White. I’m glad you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

  “I’m sorry that I stalked you years ago. Apologizing for it seems… inadequate, but I want you to know that I regret it.”

  Sienna stared at him. “Where did you get those eyes of yours? I’ve never seen eyes like that before, there’s such intensity in your gaze.”

  “They run in the family. I wish they didn’t.”

  Powell and Rodriquez walked over with Jessica. “Are you ready to go?” Powell asked Sienna.

  “Yes. And Dr. White, please keep us updated if you make any progress on finding Kent Ballou.”

  “We will. And we’ll do our best to track him down.”

  Sienna looked at White. “I don’t doubt that.”

  Jessica had called Lawson and asked him for any information he could find concerning Kent Ballou. A courier arrived at the house hours later with copies of Ballou’s arrest record, mugshots, and all other official documents concerning Ballou, including his medical history. There was also a handwritten note from Lawson.

  This man, Ballou, is a worthy target and needs to be off the streets. Do not hesitate to contact me if you need further assistance.

  Lawson was right. Ballou was worthy of Jessica and White’s attention.

  Kent Ballou was forty-three and had been in and out of prison since he was nineteen. His periods of incarceration hadn’t come about because Ballou was careless or unintelligent, no, fate had a hand in his arrests.

  Kent Ballou had started out as a thief while still in high school. He burgled his first home at sixteen and made over ten thousand dollars from fencing the goods. Ballou hadn’t merely broken into a random home and stolen the cash and valuables the owners had left lying around. He had cased the home of the wealthiest family in his area for weeks after learning that they had plans to spend the summer in Europe.

  Ballou, handsome and charming, had arranged to make contact with the seventeen-year-old daughter of the maid who worked at the house. He was tall for his age and could easily pass for a college student and had done so in order to sneak into parties at the nearby university. He told the maid’s daughter that he was eighteen and she believed him.

  The daughter often helped out when her mother’s employers entertained. Ballou accompanied her to the door of the kitchen after giving her a ride to the house, then watched as she input the security code on the alarm. A short time later, he ended the relationship with the girl. Sleeping with her had been fun, but all he’d really been after was that security code.

  A month later, when the family went on vacation, Ballou drove up to the house in a stolen truck and backed it up to the garage. He entered the house after using the code to disable the alarm, and spent three hours looting the home of cash, jewelry, electronics, and a quite decent art collection.

  If the cops investigating the robbery happened to ask the maid’s daughter about him, all the girl could give them would be a description and a phony name. Ballou was white, six-feet-tall, and had brown hair and brown eyes. That description could fit a lot of young guys in his area.

  That crime was the first of seven he would commit over the next three years. They
all concerned wealthy homes and he’d spent months setting up each burglary. He had again romanced someone working in the home on his third, fourth, and sixth heists but had used different methods during the other burglaries to obtain the codes to alarm systems. In order to not be predictable, he operated in a different town each time. On the seventh burglary, after he’d moved out of his parents’ home and into his own apartment, he had stolen more valuables than he had in the previous six combined. The elderly owner had left a fortune in bearer bonds and cash inside an old safe. The safe had a dial with numbers running from 0 to 99.

  Ballou, ever patient, had spent thirty-two hours over a two-day period methodically entering different combinations of numbers in order to gain access to the safe. When he at last entered the correct three-digit combination and the safe unlocked, Ballou had wondered if he was imagining it. When he swung open the door and saw the bounty that lay within, he knew his persistent efforts had been worth it.

  A loner by nature, Kent Ballou never discussed his activities with anyone other than the fence he used to convert the stolen goods into cash. That man also knew him by a fake name and lived a state over from where Ballou lived.

  If he were ever suspected and brought in for questioning, the police would have found that along with taking classes at the community college, Ballou was also gainfully employed. He worked thirty hours a week alongside a handyman who was teaching him the business. The job paid just enough to cover his expenses, and he enjoyed the work and the learning of useful skills. His car was a newer model, but it was a gift from his parents, who also paid for his car insurance.

  Ballou never spent any of the money he’d stolen with his burglaries. His goal was to accumulate enough so that he could retire at twenty-five. When the time came, he would head down to a South American country where the money would allow him to live well forever under a new name.