Double Blind_A Novel

by Iris Johansen

  “Who?” Lynch asked.

  “A bridesmaid and a groomsman. They’re both out of town, but we left messages for both.”

  “This might be an opportunity to draw our perp out,” Lynch said slowly.

  “You want to use them as bait?” Kendra asked.

  Lynch shook his head. “But they may already be targets. It makes sense to use it to our advantage.”

  “I’m sure it will be on the agenda tomorrow morning,” Metcalf said quickly. “We’ll talk when you get here.”

  He cut the connection.

  Kendra glanced at Lynch. “Metcalf wasn’t thrilled with your idea.”

  “He knew you weren’t thrilled. He wanted to duck out before the fireworks started.”

  “No fireworks. It’s just that putting innocent lives in jeopardy is never my first response.”

  “They may already be in jeopardy. If we can find a way to protect them without calling attention to ourselves, it might be an opportunity to get this lunatic off the streets. That’s our priority, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not that simple.” Her lips thinned. “You and I have both been part of investigations where plans like that have gone south.”

  “Horribly so. I admit it.” He added quietly, “But if we don’t act fast, we know that the chances are that more people are going to die. That’s true, too, isn’t it?”

  Kendra didn’t want to admit it, but she had a terrible feeling that he might be right. “Maybe. But I’m not ready to take that chance yet,” she said unsteadily. “I’m not like you. I can’t study a person or situation and analyze ‘potentials’ and decide if it’s worthwhile to risk a life just because it might be a good idea. These are people we’re talking about.”

  “I know that, Kendra,” Lynch said. “And I’m not pushing. I’m just saying that there will come a time when you’ll probably have to make a decision.” He paused. “Or let me do it for you.”

  “The hell I will.”

  He chuckled. “Well, that was the response I thought I’d get. You were getting a little shaky. I’m glad to know you’re back to normal. Now suppose we just wait until we get to the crime scene and see what we decide after we listen to what the ME says.”

  * * *

  KENDRA AND LYNCH ARRIVED at the scene fifty minutes later. Barbara Campbell’s MINI was parked on a side street, illuminated by a pair of work lights. The medical examiner’s van was a few yards away, competing for space with an enclosed transport vehicle that would soon move the car to the FBI’s garage. Two police cruisers were also parked nearby and four uniformed officers stood by at the periphery of the scene.

  Metcalf greeted them with a weary shrug. “Hell of a day.”

  “Tell us about it,” Lynch said.

  Metcalf cocked his head toward the car. “We’re about to let the M.E. take the body. You wanna take a look first?”

  Kendra nodded.

  She found her gait slowing as she approached the MINI. Damn. As many murder cases as she’d tackled, it never got easier. As she’d told Lynch, these were people, and life was precious to each and every one of them.

  Kendra froze.

  But maybe this was even harder than ever before.

  Because there was Elizabeth Gelson, scrunched in the back seat. The pretty bride who had been so happy, so full of life in that video. So loved by her father, who was out of his mind with worry at the mere thought that his little girl might be in trouble.

  Now, she was gone.

  The victim was wearing a skirt, white blouse, and dark jacket, probably as she had dressed for work the previous morning. Her shoulder-length hair was surprisingly well coiffed and the only obvious evidence of her trauma was the severe bruising on her face and the tear stains of eyeliner running down her cheeks.

  Kendra cleared her throat and turned to Metcalf. “Cause of death?”

  “Strangulation, most likely. Burst blood vessels in the whites of her eyes.”

  Kendra knelt beside the open door and examined the skirt. Lightly splattered with what appeared to be orange juice, confirming the kitchen abduction as she’d envisioned it.

  “Has the ME been able to pinpoint a time of death yet?”

  “Twelve hours, give or take.”

  “So he held her captive someplace for over twenty-four hours before killing her. That explains the zip tie marks on her wrists and ankles.” She examined her face. “There’s also a rawness on the skin around her mouth. Maybe from duct tape.”

  Kendra glanced around at their surroundings. Although the side street was relatively secluded, they were less than fifty feet from the somewhat busier Collins Avenue, home to several restaurants, strip centers, and mini-malls, all now closed.

  Kendra looked back toward the car. “Tricky.… Abducting someone while at the same time leaving behind the body of your previous victim, all on a downtown city street.”

  Lynch nodded. “It was dark and these businesses near the car were closed. If he had a large vehicle like a van, he could have shielded himself from Collins Avenue where someone may have spotted him.”

  “That’s how we figure it,” Metcalf said.

  Kendra stepped back, trying to take in the entire scene. “The body was put in the car first, before Barbara Campbell even left her store…”

  “Most likely. The second he grabbed her, he would surrender some control of the situation. He probably wouldn’t want to spend time moving the body inside her car while also having to contend with his newest victim.”

  “Unless he’d already killed her,” Lynch said.

  Kendra shook her head. “He hadn’t. Barbara Campbell was alive, but unconscious.”

  “How do you figure that?” Metcalf said.

  Kendra walked toward the car. “The driver’s side door was ajar like this?”

  Metcalf followed her. “Yes. And the bank deposit bag was on the street.”

  “Keys?”

  “No. But her purse and cell phone were on the passenger seat.”

  Kendra glanced around. “Security cameras?”

  “Only two nearby. One at the jewelry store across the street, another at the ATM down the block. Neither appear to be aimed at the car. We’ll be checking the footage, of course.”

  Kendra turned back toward the MINI. The interior of the car was clean except for the slight traces of fingerprint powder still on the steering wheel and dashboard. Kendra pulled out her phone, activated the light and shone it on the side of the car. She worked her way around the vehicle, studying it as she completed a full turn.

  “Anything?” Lynch said.

  “Maybe.” She turned to Metcalf. “Are there security cameras in her store?”

  “Two. One on the floor, one on the cash register. The video feeds are stored in the cloud. We got the access codes from her sister-slash-partner just a little while ago. We’ll examine the feeds to see if there were any creeps lurking about, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “It’s not. I want to see what she was wearing when she left tonight.”

  Metcalf crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed on her face. “Why?”

  Kendra kneeled beside the MINI. “This car is dirty. It hasn’t been washed in a while. There’s a thin layer of grime, undisturbed everywhere but just in front of the driver’s side door.” She aimed her light at the panel. “It looks like there was a scuffle here, like someone may have been thrown against the door. There are two fresh scratches here about five inches apart.”

  Metcalf looked at the scratches. “From keys or a weapon?”

  “I’m thinking metallic buttons from a jacket, and they left these scratches during the struggle. If she’s not wearing one, then it might be her abductor’s. Then that’s what you could look for on the security video. But it could just as well be that she was slammed against the door from behind, then rendered unconscious.”

  “By a choke hold?” Metcalf said.

  “Probably ether. Look at those dried droplets on the driver’s side window.” Kendra moved
the light to show the droplets. “Make sure your lab swabs for it.”

  Metcalf hunched over to see for himself. “How do you figure ether? Smell?”

  Kendra nodded. “Yes, but there’s something different about this scent. Still, it’s an extremely recognizable odor. I’m sure it’s ether.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  She glanced around once more. “That’s all I got. Let me know what your AV guys get off the store video, will you?”

  “Sure. They may not have anything by our meeting tomorrow morning, but I know somebody’s already on it.”

  Metcalf gave the twirling-finger “wrap it up” sign to the medical examiner, who nodded to an assistant still in the van. They began the grim task of removing the corpse from the car’s back seat.

  Kendra walked a few feet away and sat on the curb.

  Lynch sat next to her. “You okay?”

  She stared at the car moment longer. “I still think I’m missing something here. Maybe something that might have helped protect Barbara Campbell.”

  “You’re doing everything you can. You put Jessie to work on the Brock Limited angle, and for now we’ll see where this side of the investigation takes us.” He lifted her chin. “And if we’re going to make that meeting tomorrow morning, I should get you home.”

  “I’ll get myself home, after I drop you off at your house. I’m driving.”

  He made a face. “I keep forgetting.”

  She frowned. “Sorry about your car. I know how much you loved that thing.”

  He shrugged. “In the end, it was just a thing. The entire time it was being destroyed, all I could think about was you. Keeping you safe. And here you are, which counts as a win in my book. That alone makes it a good day.”

  He stood and extended a hand down toward her. “Let’s go. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  “WHO ARE WE waiting for?”

  It was 9:15 A.M. and Kendra was getting impatient with the small talk with Metcalf, Griffin, a half-dozen FBI agents, and a pair of San Diego police detectives. They were in the fifth-floor FBI conference room, surrounded by freestanding bulletin boards plastered with photographs of the two abduction scenes. One board was entirely devoted to shots of Elizabeth Gelson’s corpse, including several pictures that had obviously been sent over from the morgue in the past few hours. Kendra found herself averting her eyes from that board. She hated morgue shots. With no clothing, makeup, and hair pulled back, the photos stripped the victim of whatever had been left of her personality.

  “Who are we waiting for?” Kendra repeated. “Can’t they just join in later?”

  Metcalf looked at Griffin. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

  “I’ll take this one.” Griffin smiled and turned toward Kendra. “Based on his performance on a previous investigation, I wrote a recommendation for a young man who applied to the Bureau. He put in some good work with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement and I thought his talents could be put to good use as a profiler in Washington. He’s just come out of Quantico, and the Washington office is pretty well populated with profilers already. So he’s joining us out here. His paperwork isn’t even dry yet, but I asked him to take a look at this case.”

  “The FDLE,” Kendra said suspiciously. “You couldn’t possibly be talking about—?”

  “Sorry I’m late everybody!”

  Trey Suber walked into the conference room.

  Kendra felt her jaw drop. “I’ll be damned. Not our serial killer geek?”

  Trey smiled. “I prefer serial killer enthusiast. Hello, Kendra. Good to see you again.”

  She smiled. “Hi, Trey.” Trey Suber was in his mid-twenties, but he wouldn’t have looked out of place in the halls of any high school. The thin, bespectacled man had assisted in her most recent case as part of a “dream team” of investigators who had flown in from all over the country. Since his teenage years, Suber had managed an online serial killer compendium that rivaled even the most comprehensive law-enforcement databases, giving him an encyclopedic knowledge of cases from around the world.

  Lynch shook his hand. “Welcome, Suber. I’m still waiting for you to put out that set of serial killer trading cards.”

  Suber pushed up his glasses. “I think you’re probably joking, but that’s already a thing. I have several sets.”

  Lynch stared at him blankly. “I was joking.”

  Suber shrugged. “I’m in the market for a mint condition Eclipse 1992 Jeffrey Dahmer if you run across one.”

  “I sincerely hope I don’t.”

  Kendra shook her head. “The Bureau is crazy not to keep you in D.C., Trey.”

  He smiled. “I think so, too. I may have spooked some of them. Serial killers is one area of expertise in which it’s possible to be a little too good at your job.”

  “You’ll show ’em,” Kendra said.

  “He’s going to show us right now,” Griffin said. “After I bring everybody up to speed on the investigation, I’m turning things over to Suber for his thoughts.”

  Metcalf patted Suber’s arm. “Nothing like throwing you in the deep end, huh?”

  He smiled cheerfully. “I’m ready.”

  Griffin stepped toward the head of the table. “Then let’s begin.”

  Kendra and Lynch joined the others at the conference table and watched Griffin as he steered the team through the particulars of the case to date. Although Kendra had already been immersed in it, she appreciated Griffin’s concise summary, including updated information about the murders of both women. The ME final report on Elena Meyer indicated that she had been shot from several yards away with a 9mm handgun that had also grazed her backside, indicating a pursuit before she bolted out onto Fifth Street. Elizabeth Gelson had been strangled by a small-handed attacker who probably placed a knee against her ribcage as he squeezed the life from her. No sexual assault, but there were some signs of bruising and torture. Her time of death was estimated as being only hours before her body was discovered.

  Griffin displayed several shots of Barbara Campbell’s car, both on the street and in the FBI garage. DNA swabs had been taken from several interior spots and outside the driver’s side window, where forensics analysts backed up Kendra’s observation that a scuffle had taken place.

  After Griffin finished, Suber stepped up and plugged his own thumb drive into the laptop on the conference table. “Hello, everyone. I’m Special Agent Trey Suber. There are certain ritualistic aspects to this case that indicate we may be dealing with the start of a serial murder pattern.” Suber pressed a tiny remote in his hand to bring up side-by-side photos of Elizabeth Gelson and Barbara Campbell, which Kendra recognized as frame grabs from the wedding video. “We have two women abducted in the middle of their daily routines. They were connected by their friendship, but also by the wedding video in the possession of the third victim, who had no connection with the other two. And Elena Meyer was not abducted prior to her murder.”

  Suber displayed the shot of Elizabeth Gelson’s corpse in the car. “This is extraordinary, for the murderer to place the corpse of the previous abductee at the scene of his new abduction. If the pattern continues, it will be something we’ve never seen before in the history of serial killers.”

  Suber’s eyes were widening in a way that showed more enthusiasm than revulsion, Kendra thought. It didn’t surprise her that some people were creeped out by him.

  He displayed old crime-scene shots of Polaroids littered on sidewalks and parking lots. “This is the closest we’ve seen, in a 1974 case in which the killer left behind Polaroids of his victims’ corpses. But our case obviously requires a much higher level of sophistication, planning, and just plain nerve. Our killer falls into the highly organized category, intelligent but not necessarily highly educated. He has difficulty forming personal attachments, but he may exhibit highly developed social skills when it benefits him. He’s most likely aged twenty to thirty-five. The fa
ct that his victim was killed only shortly before being deposited at this scene suggests that his latest abductee is probably still alive.”

  “Until he’s ready to snatch someone else,” Lynch said.

  Suber nodded. “If the pattern holds.”

  The words sent a shiver through Kendra, even though the thought had already occurred to her.

  If the pattern holds.

  She turned to Griffin. “He probably has his next victim already picked out. That means she may have only hours to live.”

  “We’re doing everything we can, Kendra.”

  “And the other members of that bridal party are still being protected?”

  “Yes.” Griffin nodded toward a pair of police detectives at the far end of the table. “San Diego PD is helping out with that.”

  Kendra thought for a moment. “And have you considered the possibility that one of the bridal party may be our killer?”

  “Of course,” Suber interjected with an offended tone. “Just before this meeting, I gave Griffin my evaluation of the most likely suspects in that group. Two groomsmen are especially worth looking at.”

  “We’ve already begun interviewing everyone who was at the wedding,” Griffin said. “We have the entire guest list.”

  “Good.” Everyone was being so very reasonable and competent, but Kendra couldn’t shake the thought of Barbara Campbell imprisoned somewhere, at the mercy of a psychopath. How helpless she must feel.

  And every wasted second would bring the woman closer to a horrible death.

  “I want to talk to Elizabeth Gelson’s husband. Is he back in town?” Kendra asked.

  “He arrived from Beijing late last night,” Metcalf said. “We had someone meet him at the airport with the news about his wife. He was devastated, as you can imagine.”

  Kendra could imagine. She was still haunted by the memory of Elena Meyer’s parents at the medical examiner’s office, of John Hollingsworth the morning his daughter was taken, and of dozens of other grieving relatives in the cases she’d worked.

  “I’m sure it’s hard for him to even function,” she finally said. “I’m sorry. But I’d still like to speak to him. Today, if possible.”