Catch Your Death

by Kierney Scott

  Jess took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to tell him. She trusted Chan, as much as she trusted anyone, which was not a whole hell of a lot. He would never go out of his way to screw her over but he’d proven time and time again he wasn’t reliable either. He was too selfish to consider anything past his own needs. “Because the case is closed. Iverson is dead and that’s all Taylor needs to shut down the investigation. You’re back on the strangler case.”

  “What about you?” he asked over his shoulder as he bent down to look for the papers.

  “I’m going to finish my vacation time. Jamison’s in charge until I come back.”

  Chan groaned. “Jamison, seriously? I hate that guy.”

  Jess didn’t need to tell him that the feeling was mutual. There had never been any love lost between them. They were just fundamentally different people. Civility was the most they could hope for.

  “Here you go.” He handed her a file. “It’s on the fourth page, I think.”

  Jess flipped to the fourth page. An electric current shot up the length of her spine. “Oh, shit. You’re right. This is the same picture.” Just to be sure she took out the file on the Last Supper game and opened it to the section with the contents of Levi Smith’s computer. After the meeting with Taylor, Scott had come to her office to collect all the copies so they could be destroyed, but she’d kept one.

  She laid the pictures side by side on the coffee table so she could examine them and make sure she wasn’t seeing something that wasn’t there. The pictures were black and white, which made it more difficult to assess skin tone, but there was no denying the photos were identical. Levi had sent the autopsy photos of another Last Supper player to the curator as proof he had carved a cross into his arm. “Whose autopsy is this?”

  “That one is Rick Rivas, seventeen, from Oakland. Died October thirtieth.”

  “How did Levi get access to his autopsy photos?”

  “I have no idea. There’s no connection between the two boys that I can see, no mutual friends. They’ve never lived in the same time zone, let alone the same city. There is no way Levi should have had access to this picture.”

  “And it’s not posted anywhere online,” Jess thought out loud. “Which means he didn’t download it. So where did it come from?”

  “He could have uploaded it from somewhere.”

  “Or someone uploaded it for him. The same someone who killed him.”

  “You don’t think he committed suicide?”

  She didn’t know what she thought anymore or who she should tell. She sounded crazy, but she wasn’t. There were too many coincidences to be explained away. “He had no self-harming scars but he did have fresh defensive wounds on his hands and blood under his fingernails. He fought with someone right before he died. I think that person is the real curator.”

  Twenty-One

  Jess leaned forward and wiped the condensation off the inside of the windshield. She turned the key in the ignition to turn the heater back on. It was a miserable, cold day. Slushy rain had begun to fall, melting the snow drifts. She’d been sitting in her car for over an hour, waiting for Lynette Hastings to come out of work. She picked a spot facing the entrance of the hospital so she wouldn’t miss her. So far all she’d seen were nurses and patients coming out to smoke.

  Jess had called her four times but Lynette refused to talk. She tried going to her house but Lynette had pulled the curtains closed, turned off the lights, and pretended she wasn’t home.

  Jess looked up at the movement of the sliding doors opening. A blond woman came out wearing a black parka over surgical scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight French braid. Jess glanced down at the photo on her phone and then back up at the woman. She looked older now, probably from the stress of losing a child, but it was Lynette Hastings.

  “Lynette,” Jess called as she got out of the car. She slammed the door and then ran through the hospital bay to the entrance.

  The woman looked over at her, a flash of panic in her blue eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Special Agent Jessica Bishop. I just need to ask you a few questions.” Jess held up her badge to be inspected.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.” She pulled her hood up and started walking.

  Jess’s eyes stung as frozen rain pelted her face. She used the back of her hand to mop off the drops but more fell as quickly as she wiped them away. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want to talk to you about?”

  “Please just leave me alone.”

  Jess broke into a jog to keep up with her. “I will when you tell me why Levi Smith was scared to see you.”

  Lynette spun around. “Please just leave me alone. I don’t want to be seen with you. Just go.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. One of the last things a dead boy wrote is that he was upset to see you, so I need to know what you did.”

  Lynette spun around to face her. “Levi’s dead?” Her face drained of color. “No.”

  Jess’s eyes narrowed as she studied her reaction: the dilation of her eyes, the shock on her face all seemed genuine. “You didn’t know he died?”

  “No.” Lynette shook her head. Unshed tears welled in her eyes. “How?”

  “It appears he committed suicide.”

  “Oh God, no. Not Levi.” A mascara-laced tear traced a path down the side of her face, settling in a groove of a laugh line.

  “A few days ago.”

  “Have they had the funeral?”

  “They’re going to have a service in Utah.”

  Her lips trembled. “He was a good kid, so kind. He always looked out for my Ryan. He was my favorite of all Ryan’s friends.”

  “Why do you think Levi was upset to see you?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “He wasn’t. That doesn’t make sense. Levi couldn’t have been scared of seeing me because I haven’t even seen any of the boys from the school since the day Ryan left for Pine Ridge.”

  “Pine Ridge? What’s that?”

  Her eyes widened as she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “What’s Pine Ridge?” Jess asked again.

  “Please,” Lynette begged. “I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to be seen with you. They can’t know I’ve spoken to you. I have two other sons I need to support. I can’t deal with this now. Just leave me alone.”

  She turned to walk away but Jess reached out and held onto her arm. Pain radiated through her palm and up her wrist into her arm as she forced her hand to clench together to keep Lynette from getting away. “Who are ‘they’? Who don’t you want to know that I’ve spoken to you? Did someone threaten you? Are you scared of someone? I can protect you.”

  “Please. Just leave me alone.” With a final tug, she pulled away and ran to her car.

  Twenty-Two

  Jess wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip of the coffee. It tasted burnt but it was hot and strong and that was all she needed. “Thank you.” She smiled.

  “Can I get you anything else?” The waitress picked up the empty plate and then took a rag out of her yellow apron and wiped down the ring left by the coffee mug.

  “No, thanks. That was great. Just the check please.”

  Jess looked out at the banks of fresh snow. The small diner was the last stop before chain checks further up the highway, so she had decided to stop and think before she drove the rest of the way to Pine Ridge Lodge.

  A simple internet search told her Pine Ridge was an environmental living camp just outside Shenandoah National Park. It originally opened thanks to a grant from the Gracemount Academy trust but now it was open to the public. It was mostly used by schools but corporate groups also brought their staff there for camping and team-building exercises.

  Jess paid the check and went back to her car. She’d rented an SUV for the trip because her own car would not have made it in the snow, plus she felt more anonymous in a rental.

  Fortunately, the drive to Pine Ridge wasn’t too bad. Although the l
odge was closed for the winter, park rangers had kept the roads clear for maintenance trucks to get in and out.

  She parked at the entrance to the main building and did a cursory inspection, looking for CCTV cameras or any other signs of a security system. When she didn’t find any, she silently prayed that meant there were no alarms at the camp because breaking in was one thing but setting off a blaring alarm was another, not that there was anyone around to hear it.

  She took the duffel bag she’d packed from the passenger seat and threw it over her shoulder. She glanced behind her again to make sure no one had followed her, which was probably unnecessary as she hadn’t seen a single car on the road since she’d left the diner.

  A snow-covered path snaked its way down the steep embankment. Her boots sank into the powder. She took a few cautious steps before her foot slipped when she misjudged the edge of the cobbles. She tried to right herself but she couldn’t. “Shit,” she muttered as she landed on her ass. The impact radiated up her spine. She swore again as she stood up and dusted the ice off her backside. Her fingers throbbed from the cold, reminding her again that she was an idiot for losing her gloves.

  Finally, she made it to the dormitory. She looked around at the pine trees that surrounded the building. At the moment, it was hard to imagine them without snow, but she was fairly certain they were the trees in the picture of the dead Gracemount boys that was found on Jim Iverson’s computer. She could look around at the landscape all she wanted, but there was only one way to find out if this was the place the photo had been taken.

  She laid the duffel bag down in the snow but stopped before she unzipped it. All she had in life was her career. It was who she was, not just what she did. A boulder formed in the pit of her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick. Shame settled heavy on her, pulling her down from the inside.

  Was she really going to do this?

  She had always prided herself on being law-abiding, a rule-follower, everything her father wasn’t, but somewhere along the way she’d lost that. She barely recognized the person she’d become. She always excused her shortcomings, all her rough edges, the lack of interpersonal skills, and the penchant for anonymous sex by telling herself she was still a decent person because at least she followed the rules.

  If she did this, she wouldn’t be able to say that anymore.

  She could leave now and go home; she hadn’t yet broken any laws. She stood frozen and shivering, unsure if it was the cold or something else that made her shake, but she couldn’t stop.

  She pulled out her phone.

  “Hello,” Jeanie answered, her voice weak.

  For a second Jess couldn’t speak. A lump formed in the back of her throat and no matter how hard she tried to swallow, the tightness would not leave her.

  “Jessica, is that you? Are you there?” Jeanie asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, it’s me. I just wanted to… see how you are doing.” Her words sounded stupid, even to her. They both knew how she was doing. She’d just lost her nephew: she wasn’t doing well.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Jeanie sniffed. “I’m… I’m going to be all right.”

  Jess didn’t know what to say. She’d never been good with people and emotion but now she couldn’t even form a basic sentence. She should tell her that she was right, that she would be okay, but she wasn’t sure she would be. Jess was still waiting to feel okay again after Lindsay’s death.

  “Thank you for calling. I know you’ve been busy with your investigation but now that’s over I wanted to tell you that you were the only person I thought to call about Levi. And if it had—” Her voice broke off in a hushed sob. “I’m sorry. If it had to be anyone to find him, and to investigate, I’m grateful that it was you. There is no one else I would have trusted more. Thank you for helping my family.”

  Jess winced. The words stung. The knowledge that she had failed Jeanie was too bitter to allow herself to think about now.

  “Taylor called yesterday to tell me about Jim Iverson, about the suicide game he started at the school. Just evil. To do to children… But they’re confident that the game has died with him.”

  Jess squeezed her hand together until her palm ached. “Yes, they are,” was all she could say because she couldn’t bring herself to lie to Jeanie.

  “Thank you,” Jeanie said again before her voice was lost entirely to sobs.

  After she hung up, Jess held the phone against the ache deep in her chest.

  Jeanie deserved the truth.

  Jess might not be the moral person she had hoped to be but maybe she could give Jeanie some closure. She had become an FBI agent because she wanted to be a good guy, but now she realized that doing the right thing and following the law weren’t always the same thing.

  She let out a heavy sigh, unzipped the bag, and took out a pair of latex gloves. She snapped them on before she reached for the crowbar and hammer. She stood up, walked to the window, and examined the frame.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the cheap aluminum frame. She tossed the hammer down next to her, grateful she would not be needing it. She might be prepared to break and enter private property, but she preferred not to vandalize anything while she did it. At least this way there would not be any broken glass for some poor schmuck to clean up.

  She anchored her foot against the wall to brace herself before she wedged the claw behind the metal frame. With a single push the window popped out in one piece. She tried to throw down the crowbar in time to catch the window but she wasn’t fast enough and it landed on the ground with a thump. A flurry of snow puffed around it like smoke, breaking the fall, leaving the glass un-shattered.

  Jess smiled down at her handiwork. When she was done, it would slot right back into place and hopefully no one would even know it had been tampered with.

  Only after she was in the room did she realize she had left the flashlight in the duffel bag. She patted the wall until she found the switch and the light flickered on. Three sets of bunk beds lined the olive-colored walls. She looked around the room trying to visualize the picture. This wasn’t the bedroom. The window was in the wrong place.

  She walked down the hallway, looking into every room before she found the one that matched the layout of the picture. She went in, closed her eyes, and pictured the photo, where everyone was standing. Levi had been by the bunk bed nearest the window, Ryan in a chair next to him. Whoever took the picture must have been standing at the door.

  She looked up at the red flashing light of a smoke detector on the ceiling. That was the exact angle. Her eyes narrowed as she examined it. She wasn’t tall enough to reach it. She needed a ladder or table. Or a chair would do.

  Before she could pull the chair out, heavy footsteps sounded in the hall.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Twenty-Three

  Jess sucked in a frantic breath, taking in air until her lungs burned. She pulled her gun from its holster. Her fingers refused to close around the polymer frame so she clasped her other hand on top and forced her grip to close.

  The door swung open and a man’s tall shadow came into focus.

  “Fuck!” she screamed. “What are you doing here?”

  Jamison’s large form filled the door frame. His full lips pulled down into a frown. “Put your gun away. I’m making sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  Her body vibrated with the surge in adrenaline. “Dammit, Jamison. I could have shot you.”

  “You already have,” he said, pointing to his chest. “But I don’t think that gun would be much use to you now. Your hands are shaking too much to get a clean shot. Could you even hit a target?” His deep voice was laced with annoyance.

  “I’m fine.”

  He gave her a dubious look. “You’re holding your gun in the wrong hand. On what planet is that fine? You’re obviously still hurt. There’s no way you could defend yourself: you can’t even hold your gun properly. How were you even cleared to come back t
o work?”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated like a mantra.

  “Keep saying it all you want. It doesn’t make it true.”

  She wished he wouldn’t pretend to care. At some point, she would forget that it wasn’t true and the sting would be worse for it. She needed to remember she was alone in this, the way she was alone in everything now. “You shouldn’t have followed me here.” She shoved her gun back into its holster.

  “What are you even doing here?”

  “This is where the picture from Iverson’s computer of the boys in the suicide game was taken. That’s where Levi was standing.” She pointed to one of the bunk beds. “And Ryan was sitting over there.” She pointed to the window. “That tree is in the shot.”

  He nodded “How did you figure all this out?”

  “I spoke to Ryan Hastings’ mom. I wanted to know why Levi was upset when he saw her.”

  “Did she tell you?”

  “No. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough. She was scared of something or someone and she really didn’t want to be seen with me. But she did let it slip that the last time she saw Levi Smith was before the boys came here to Pine Ridge. The trip couldn’t have been any later than August because that’s when Ryan died.”

  “So, Jim Iverson had the last known picture of Ryan Hastings on his computer?”

  “Yeah, and based on the angle of the picture and the fact the boys seemed oblivious that they were being photographed, I think it was taken with a hidden camera.”

  Jamison looked up at the smoke detector on the ceiling just above him. “Is this what you’re looking for?” He reached up, pulled it down, and handed it to her.

  “Yes, thank you. I had forgotten about the perks of being partnered with a giant. Maybe that’s why Jeanie put us together all those years ago. You’re tall enough to reach things and I’m small enough to squeeze through windows.” That reminded her. “How did you get in?”

  “I picked the lock on the front door.”