Jack matched eyes with me first. His eyes were saying, keep it cool. He held it out so I could look at it.
Strength left my legs, and I felt color drain from my face. “That’s my Twitter account pic.”
“Why would Bingham be getting a picture of you?” Anita’s soft voice didn’t serve to calm me but had the opposite effect.
Our heads turned to face her. Jack stood. “We’re going to have to ask you to keep all of this confidential.”
“Sure.”
“And we need you to leave now.” He moved forward until she backed up into the hallway, and then he closed the warden’s office door.
“Where did it come from? Why me?” The Redeemer’s words kept replaying in my mind as a never-ending audio reel. Confess, repent and be forgiven. Don’t confess and be punished for your sins.
Jack dropped back into the chair he had been in before. “There’s no return address on the envelope but based on the date of postmark it was mailed Monday, the same day as the find. How is it even possible that it made here that quickly?”
“He could have dropped it in a local delivery mailbox,” Moore said. “It’s a different box at the post office that allows for faster mail delivery.”
“It’s someone local!”
I was trained in the academy to remain calm under pressure but confronted with an issue like this it was too much. I knew I raised my voice. I knew it displeased Jack as evidenced by the sour expression on his face. His lips contorted almost as if he were biting the inside of the bottom one, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed and pointed.
Jack looked to the envelope. “It’s postmarked with zip 40360.”
“That’s Owingsville, not too far from here,” Moore said.
“Why was this piece of mail approved?” I asked the question of Moore.
“Maybe they assumed that it was a photograph of a family member.”
“Is the mailroom in a habit of assuming? And no return address? Shouldn’t that alone be enough to reject the mail?”
“I’m not sure what to say. Human error?”
“If anyone was aware of Bingham’s file, they’d know he doesn’t have any living relatives. The single photograph would have been deemed more suspicious, possibly even considered a threat of physical harm toward the person in the photo.”
“Our mailroom personnel can’t remember the background of every inmate. Again, I’m not—”
“Not sure what to say,” Jack intercepted, and rose to his feet.
My attention stayed on the photograph. As we had discussed before, the pictures were not necessarily of his victims, but possible future targets. I swallowed hard.
Jack headed for the door and addressed Moore. “You let us know if he gets anything else. We’ll want to look at it first. Make sure he still has Internet use rights.”
“Course.”
“And we’re taking this with us.” Jack placed the photo back inside the envelope.
Minutes later we were in the SUV, and I turned to Jack. “The pics are not all trophies.”
He slipped a cigarette from the pack and lit up.
I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he inhaled deeply and exhaled, filling the car with white, polluted smoke. I reached over, turned the key in the ignition and put my window down. “Why do you have to smoke all the time?”
He tapped the ash in the tray and took another inhale.
I let out a deep breath. “He’s going to have me killed.”
Still no reaction from Jack, just a slow and steady hand up, cigarette sucked on, exhale of white smoke, ashes tapped off in the tray.
“The killer was in Salt Lick. They know about the discovery.”
“He was at some point. We figured that.”
“I don’t understand why you’re not taking this seriously.”
He stopped moving, his arm paused mid-way to his mouth. “I take this very seriously.”
“You sure aren’t giving me that impression.”
“Listen, Kid, getting yourself all worked up doesn’t accomplish a thing.”
“I’m the target of a psychopath.”
“That hasn’t been proven yet.” Another draw on the cigarette.
My hands balled into fists on my lap. Jack noticed. His eyes dived there, before returning to look over the parking lot.
“We need to find this person.”
“And we will.”
“I guess. Why should you be worried? It’s not your picture.”
Jack laughed so hard it forced a deep cough from his lungs.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not so good under pressure, Kid. You’ll have to work on that.”
“Why are we just sitting here?”
“You wanted to talk.”
“Ah.” I let the moan give birth to audible. “Our best lead to this killer is that piece of mail.” My mind went to the photograph, to the envelope, the defilement of evidence. It hadn’t even occurred to me in the moment because when I noticed the picture all common sense left me. “You tampered with the evidence. There could have been prints.”
“I sit here listening to you sulk whine and panic. But I draw the line when you insult my skills. I’ve been an agent almost as long as you’ve been alive.” He snuffed out the cigarette pushing it down hard enough to crumble the entire remains to ash.
“Then you should have known better.”
“May I remind you that you report to me.”
“You do every opportunity you get.” The words slipped out and I wished instantly that I could retract them. I glanced out the window, then back to Jack. “Maybe I’m just being a little—”
“Paranoid?” Jack paused. “Are you going to be able to keep a cool head for this case and pull yourself together?”
Seconds paused. I answered, “My life was threatened.”
“Hmm.”
“No, hear me out. It’s not like that happens every day.” Jack’s eyes met mine. “I’m fine now.” He studied my expression and had me questioning my resolve.
We left the prison and touched base with Paige and Zachery. They had ended up visiting both Sally Windermere’s former fiancé and his parents, due to our last minute detour, but didn’t come out any further ahead. No one seemed to know much about other people in Sally’s life. Everyone described her as a good girl who would never run off and hurt people like this. They didn’t know of any enemies or people that held anything against her. We filled them in on everything that happened at the prison and arranged to meet them back at Betty’s Place in about an hour.
I held the laptop and powered it up. My mind was on my Twitter account and on Bingham’s followers. I wanted to know if he said anything else. The mail intended for Bingham lay on the back seat sealed in an evidence bag. “What about your prints?”
Jack had lit another cigarette the minute we stepped up into the SUV. It was almost gone now and it was only five minutes later. “What about ’em?”
“They’ve littered the evidence.”
A smile lifted Jack’s mouth. “We’re back to that? You worry too much, Kid. With technology these days it’s not going to be an issue.”
“They can lift prints even if they’re layered?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
“See I’ve been an agent longer than—”
“I know almost as long as I’ve been alive.”
The onboard phone rang. Jack answered. “Speak to me.”
“Special Agent Jack Harper?”
“This is. You’re also on speaker with Special Agent Brandon Fisher.”
“Doctor Jones here.”
I straightened out, paused my efforts to log online.
“The oldest vic could be the man whose picture you forwarded me. Facial structure matches that of Travis Carter.”
Jack pulled onto Highway 460, merged with the traffic.
“We’ll need DNA from his mother for cross comparison.”
“DNA on a skeleton?” I whis
pered the words, but the doctor heard.
“It’s called Mitochondrial DNA. It’s passed on from our mothers. It is taken from dead cellular debris such as bone and hair. Now this victim’s x-rays also show a broken tibia and carpel bone. Both sustained years prior to death.”
“His shin and wrist bones.” Jack clarified. “So if we can verify that Travis Carter had these injuries—”
“That’s correct. Along with a DNA comparison we’ll have our certainty. I’ve already ordered his medical history and should have it soon.”
“Keep us updated.”
Jones disconnected the call.
I logged onto my Twitter account. No new followers, and no new mentions, which meant no one was addressing me. I searched The Redeemer to see if there were any new posts and there weren’t since yesterday. Jack glanced to the screen, back to the road.
“Nothing new there—” My eyes were on the messages tab along the top. “I think I know how he identified me to his follower.” I dialed Nadia on the onboard system. Three rings later, she answered. “I need you to hack The Redeemer’s Twitter account and look at his private messages.”
“Sure. Is there something specific I should be looking for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Okay.”
“How are the rest of the background searches going for the followers?” Jack asked.
“I’ve waded through the first hundred. Still working on it. This isn’t TV where they solve murder in an hour.” The tapping of keyboard keys came over the hands-free.
“Don’t have to tell me that.” Jack’s voice held a smirk.
“If you were here I’d slap you for that.” Her fingers paused a moment, but started up again.
Jack laughed but it stalled when I looked at him. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to know he was capable of laughter. My focus went back to my profile page. Bingham’s follower knew who I was.
“Oh, here we go, I’m in.”
“Nad—”
“He’s got a few.” She rhymed off snippets of messages. “Happy to have such a righteous person to follow, thank you for being a role model.” She read the last one slowly. “Do you think—”
“What’s the background on that one?”
“Devin Mercy.”
“Interesting last name,” Jack said.
More keys were tapped on the keyboard. “Five backgrounds come up with that name.”
“Narrow it down to anyone in the Salt Lick area. Try Owingsville, postal 40360.”
“Zero.”
“What about Sarasota?”
“Ah, zero.”
“Shit. Are there any links to pictures, or names mentioned in any of these messages?”
“Not that I see. Is something wrong?”
Jack told Nadia about my picture being mailed to Bingham.
“Oh my God, Brandon. Jack what—”
“We’ve got it under control.”
Glad he did. Maybe it was because he wasn’t completely attached to the newest member of his team.
“We’ve got the photo and its envelope on the way for the LPOU.” The Latent Print Operations Unit. “Stay on top of them for the results.” Jack hung up, and glanced over at the screen with my profile. “Sixty followers? You twit regularly?”
“Are we back to that? I tweet, sometimes. Not often.”
“About what?” He looked to the screen. “Your log-on name is WordAddict. Are you a writer or something?” Jack laughed.
It was time for a subject switch. “Why are you set against having and providing hope?” I referred to this morning when Jack gave me a hard time over a promise to find Sally Windermere.
“So you are a writer.” Jack pulled out another cigarette, and lit up.
I took a deep breath and tried to conjure self-control.
CHAPTER 15
Paige and Zachery were in the corner table of Betty’s Place waiting for us. It was the best we could do for a conference room around here. Two plates on the table were empty with the exception of left over coleslaw in small ramekins, and four red plastic toothpicks.
“Hope you don’t mind we went ahead and ordered something.” Zachery drew back on a can of pop.
“Looks like you ordered and ate.” Jack pulled out a chair from the table, letting it scrape across the floor. He dropped onto it.
“Triple deckers,” I said.
“Turkey, bacon and cheese on whole wheat. You should try one, Pending.”
“I’m not that hungry—”
“He feels his life was threatened,” Jack interceded.
“Come on, why would someone throw away their life killing you?”
I matched eyes with Paige. Hers communicated a vulnerability and empathic nature. Her hair framed her face with loose curls. I remembered putting my hands in that hair, sweeping it back from her face, taking her lips, kissing her neck. She let her eyelids fall slowly as if she were thinking the same thing.
She ended the eye contact. “There’s no need to be like that, Zach.”
“Why are you sticking up for him?”
“I take it seriously. Brandon is a Special Agent just like the rest of us—”
“Pending.”
He’d never let me forget I had a twenty-four month probationary period.
“We’re family. We look out for each other. What if it was your picture?”
The smile faded from Zachery’s face.
“Yeah, not so funny now.”
Jack leaned into his chair. “This is normally when I’d say we don’t have time to eat but seeing as this is our only meeting place—”
My cell phone rang. The ring tone was different. It was my personal cell and it was Deb.
“Are you going to get that?”
I pulled out the phone and clicked ignore.
“Not important, Kid?”
My eyes were on Paige. Hers went to the table.
The ringing started up again.
“Sounds like you better get that.”
I walked away from the table and answered. “I told you I’m in the middle of a case—”
“Are you going to be home tonight?”
“We talked about this.”
“Brandon, I didn’t realize you’d be away for days at a time.”
“We talked about the possibility.”
Silence.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Brandon?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you.”
To hear her voice change from confrontation to this tugged at my heart. My life was threatened. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? “I love you too. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” I hung up the phone and headed back to the table.
“That wasn’t personal was it Kid? We’re on a case.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Hope it doesn’t.”
I was learning something else about Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper. He ran his team like a dictatorship.
Jack and I both ended up eating a triple-decker sandwich, following in the shadows of our colleagues. All I could think about was my photograph having been sent to Bingham. I swallowed in large bites and washed them down with chugs of water. I never took a lot of time to eat, but this was a record.
“If we could even connect victimology we’d have a better chance of catching the unsub,” Paige said. “All we know right now is the first victim was likely Bingham’s brother-in-law, and the most recent seems to be Sally Windermere.”
Zachery gestured toward the Bible and reference book on the coinherence symbol we took from Bingham’s cell. They sat on the table in plastic bags. “I think this is more about divinity. Bingham views his killing as a higher calling. It’s given away by his handle, The Redeemer. He’s taking it upon himself to save people from their sins.”
“Let’s talk about Sally Windermere then,” Jack challenged. “Why a young girl who wasn’t even married? What sin could she possibly have committed?”
Paige put a hand through her hair and tucked a strand behind an ear. “We’re pretty certain Bingham killed his brother-in-law. We know the man had beaten his sister. But we also know that the last kill at the burial site didn’t have their intestines removed—different killer, possibly a different motive?”
Zachery shook his head. “I’m not buying that part.”
“And why’s that?” Paige rested her chin in a cupped hand, her elbow braced on the table.
“The unsub is a follower. He respects and follows Bingham’s lead. I believe they kill for the same purpose.”
“Okay I agree with the part that the unsub follows Bingham’s lead—”
“Bingham controls everything.”
“Stop agreeing there.” Paige sat back. “If he did the last vic would have been gutted. She wasn’t.”
“The other markings on the body are the same, the burial is the same. What we need to know is why she was targeted and we’ll have a better chance of finding our unsub. We need to think exactly like Bingham to draw the unsub in.”
Paige let out a rush of air.
“You don’t agree?”
“No, I do. Maybe that’s the problem.” A smirk creased the edges of her mouth. “I hate it when you have a point.”
“It happens too often?” Zachery’s smile grew and faded just as quickly. His eyes glazed over and he looked at me. “He told you to confess your sins and be forgiven.”
“Yes.”
“Evidence seems to lean towards him killing for a sense of righteousness. Think of the seven sins in the Bible.”
Jack tapped his shirt pocket and looked around the place.
“It’s been a long time since Sunday school.” I said.
“Don’t get smart, Pending. The seven sins are wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony.”
“Okay, well we don’t think Travis was killed for any of those reasons.” The minute the words came out, I knew I should have given it more thought. “Wrath.”
“Exactly.” Zachery pressed a pointed index finger onto the cover of the Bible. “And think of yourself being a young girl, shouldn’t be hard to do.” He smiled. I cocked my head to the side. “She’s engaged to someone she loves. Where does that lead?”
“Lust.” Paige answered. “She fornicated.”
Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series #1) Page 9
