Catch Your Death

by Kierney Scott

  “Of course you did.”

  “There was no way I could have fit through that window. I would have had to dislocate things to fit through that opening. Even then it would be touch and go.”

  She placed the smoke detector down on the table, pausing, scared that she would open it and find nothing but batteries. They had both separately broken the law to break into the building based on her hunch. She would feel like a real asshole if there wasn’t anything to be found.

  “What are you waiting for?” Jamison asked.

  “I just want to make sure your prints aren’t all over it.” She pulled her coat over her hand and used it like a makeshift rag to wipe down the plastic.

  “Who knew you’d be the better criminal?” A hint of a smile played on his full lips.

  The alarm whined a high-pitched squeak before the lid snapped off. A bit of plastic went flying through the air as it opened. “Shit. I’ve broken it.” She turned to search for the missing piece so she could put it back together.

  “Jessie, look.”

  She glanced down. Her pulse spiked. Validation coursed through her. She wasn’t crazy, not about this. “That’s a camera with an SD card. Someone was videoing those boys without their knowledge.”

  She fished out the card and put it in a fresh evidence bag, ready to send to the lab. She froze when she remembered what the lab tech had told her, that according to the official records she hadn’t logged anything for testing since her last case. She couldn’t afford to have these results go missing too.

  “Jessie, what’s wrong? You were right.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger while she thought about what to tell him, how far she should involve him. She felt trapped in a stalemate, unable to go forward or make any move. “You shouldn’t have followed me here. You don’t need to be part of all this shit. It’s not just someone setting up Jim Iverson to take the fall. I think this is bigger than just a suicide game. I think these boys could have been murdered, and the suicide game was to cover it up, and I think it involves someone in our office.”

  His face remained impassive, not registering even the smallest shadow of emotion, but that wasn’t surprising. He was a master of control, nothing fazed him. Maybe that’s the real reason Jeanie had put them together, because she knew Jess needed the constancy and stability he offered.

  “Please, Jamison. Go home. Pretend you didn’t see this.”

  “So, let me get this straight: you tell me you think there is someone within the FBI killing kids, including Jeanie’s nephew, and you want me to walk away and pretend I didn’t hear that? What kind of man do you think I am? Jesus, Jessie. I’m not Chan or Milligan. Give me some credit.” The smallest sliver of emotion crept through but instead of looking angry, he looked hurt.

  “Jamison.”

  “No. Are you the only one who gets to give a shit about Jeanie and doing the right thing?”

  “Stop. That’s not what this is about. And you know it.”

  “What’s it about, then? Tell me.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. If there were words, she couldn’t find them. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” By that, she meant him. She’d hurt him more than anyone should have to endure. He’d lost his wife and unborn child because of her.

  “I think I can handle myself.”

  She thought for a second, searching for a way to push him away, far enough to keep him safe. “Okay. You want to know what we’re dealing with? The faked self-harm pictures Levi Smith supposedly sent the curator were actually photos from a victim in California. I think the out-of-state victims were targeted just to muddy the water and cover up the murders of the five Gracemount boys. Last night I went to check on the scrapings I took from under Levi’s fingers, and I was told that there was no record of me submitting any evidence for testing since before Lindsay died. Add to that the botched autopsy on Levi, my failure to secure any warrants, and the fact the Metropolitan Police sent a captain to investigate an apparent suicide. I could go on. There are too may coincidences. At some point, we have to call bullshit.”

  “So, your plan is to jeopardize your entire career, the only thing you have in your life, to investigate on your own?”

  The words should have stung but they were the truth. They both knew she had nothing else going for her; this job was all she had. There was no point in trying to pretend. “Yes, that’s my plan.”

  “Or we could take it directly to Taylor.”

  “At this point he would just shut me down. I don’t have enough evidence and I don’t know who is involved with this, and let’s just say his confidence in me isn’t high.”

  “So, what are you going to do? Do you have a plan? Or are you winging it and breaking laws along the way. I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “I’m going to see where the evidence takes me. Once I know what I’m dealing with, I will tell Taylor. Right now, it’s just my gut feeling and loose ends. That’s not enough to reopen an investigation. We both know that. Taylor wants this gone.”

  He rubbed his chin with his knuckles as he thought. “We’ll see what’s on the card and then decide what to do next.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “Do you have your computer?”

  “Yeah. It’s in my car.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you out front. I need to put the window back.”

  Half of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin.

  “What?” she asked. “It’s still snowing. It will cause water damage if I don’t board it back up.”

  “I’ll give you your due, you’re a considerate felon.”

  “First of all—” she gestured around the room “—misdemeanor at most, and it would be pled down because I’m otherwise law-abiding and it’s my first offense.”

  “Yeah, you’re a model citizen.”

  Jess traced her footsteps back and climbed out through the window she’d removed. Lifting the glass was more difficult than taking it out, but after three failed attempts she managed to hoist it into the frame. It would need to be properly bolted back into place but at least it would keep the elements and wild animals out.

  She tucked an escaped curl behind her ear and hiked back up the hill to the parking lot. In the summer, the trek would take thirty seconds, but the snow slowed her pace because she kept losing her footing.

  The windscreen of Jamison’s car was steamed over and wispy white puffs of smoke billowed out the tailpipe.

  “I was wondering if I needed to send out a search and rescue party.”

  “I’m starting to hate the snow,” she muttered as she slid into the passenger seat and shut the door. Her fingertips throbbed with every beat of her heart, burning from the cold. She put her hands in front of the hot air of the heater and winced when the blood began to circulate and full feeling returned.

  “You should have gloves.” Jamison pulled off his scarf and handed it to her to wrap her hands in.

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you have the memory card?”

  “Yeah.” She reached into her pocket for the evidence bag. “Here you go.”

  Jamison inserted the card into the computer. Anticipation niggled her as they waited for the video to load.

  “What if it’s a virus?” she asked.

  “It’s too late to worry about that now.”

  “True.” She brought her index finger to her mouth to bite but there was nothing left of her nail so she moved to the next finger and then the next before she finally found a sliver. A metallic zing of blood filled her mouth as she misjudged the length of her nail and bit into the quick. She winced at the pain but didn’t pull her hand away because the pain took some of the edge off.

  Finally, the file was ready and the video opened to a shot of the empty dorm room. A few minutes passed without anything happening; no one entered or left the room. It felt like the monotony of a stakeout in a digital format. Most likely there were hours of footage of an empty room.
“Can you fast-forward?”

  Jamison pressed a key and the image zoomed to the next frame, still of an empty room, so he fast-forwarded again, moving the video forward in short bursts so they didn’t accidently miss anything.

  Jess tapped him on the arm. “Wait, what’s that? Go back.”

  Jamison clicked the keys and a new image came into focus. “What the hell?”

  “What is he wearing? Is that a monk robe?”

  “Dear God, he looks satanic. Seriously, he looks like he’s preparing for an animal sacrifice.”

  Jess squinted at the screen. A man in a hooded robe had entered the room, his back to the camera so they could not make out his age or ethnicity. His height plus the broad shoulders and relatively narrow hips indicated that it was a man, but there was no way to determine anything else about him.

  The man came in, put a case on the bed, got on his hands and knees, searched for something under the bed, then put what he found in his bag and left. The entire sequence took less than thirty seconds.

  “What’s in his hand?” Jess asked. “Can you rewind it and zoom in?”

  “We really could use Tina for this.”

  “No!” She didn’t mean to shout but the idea of involving anyone else in this made her stomach clench. If she’d kept Lindsay out of her last investigation, she would still be alive. If there were any risks involved with this investigation, they were hers to take. There was no way Jess was going to endanger anyone else.

  Jamison nodded. She didn’t have to explain her reservations. After a few attempts, he was able to stop the video at the right moment, and the contents of the bag came into focus. “Are those disposable cameras?”

  Jess nodded. “Yeah. But why? Did he leave cameras in every room for the kids to use? Oh, shit. I think I know what the cameras were for.” Her stomach clenched in a painful spasm. She was going to be sick. She held her hand over her mouth.

  Jamison didn’t say anything. He knew how her mind worked. He knew that it was impossible for her to look at a man and not see a predator, or at least the potential to become one. The relentless suspicion was the gift her childhood had given her. Other people could see a dad playing with his kids in the park, or a man coaching a soccer team, and think it was an idyllic scene but Jess would only ever see a hunter stalking his prey.

  “We need to find those cameras.”

  Jess closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the images. She already had her own that she could not escape. Visions from her past fired at her from every direction.

  “Jessie, you okay?”

  She took a deep, fortifying breath before she opened her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Play it again.” She would watch the video again and again until she had synthesized every bit of information it had to offer.

  Jamison started the sequence from the beginning.

  “There.” She pointed at the screen. The man turned to the camera just before he left the room. “Zoom in on that.”

  “You can’t see his face.”

  “No, not his face. His lapel on the left-hand side, just above his heart. There is something embroidered on his robe. What is that?”

  The keys clicked as Jamison zoomed in.

  “There. That’s it.” Her heart hammered against her ribs. “That emblem.” She pointed to the outline of a chalice and the Eye of Providence. “I’ve seen it before. Once on Levi’s school blazer and then in Sturgeon’s office, in the picture with Chief Hagan. He was wearing that same pin. I’ve never seen it anywhere else. I was going to ask Sturgeon what it meant but something tells me he wouldn’t have told us anyway.”

  Twenty-Four

  For the first time since she moved into her apartment, Jess considered taking the elevator. Her legs were like lead wading through quicksand. She was bone-tired and ready for a shower and bed. She might even be able to sleep, and she wouldn’t need some random man to help her get numb first.

  “Hold on, Stan. That’s cheating. You can’t start before me.” Jess shoved her keys into her pocket and started up the stairs, desperate to get home and sleep. Tomorrow she would keep researching the emblem they had found, but first she needed her bed.

  Every time she brought the dog inside, they raced up the stairs to her apartment on the sixth floor. He always won but tonight she wasn’t even a contender. The combination of the long day and the freezing temperature had left her exhausted. “At least give me a chance, buddy,” she called up the stairs after him.

  “Why are you growling?” She stopped on the stairs to listen. Stan gave an annoyed bark.

  “There better not be a mouse,” she muttered as she started on the final flight.

  “Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?” she asked as she rounded the corner.

  “What the hell?” Her eyes narrowed at the open door to her apartment. A sliver of golden light shined between the frame and the metal door. The hairs on the back of her neck stood taut. She never left the apartment without bolting the deadlock.

  “Shh, Stan. Come here.” She leaned down and pulled her dog close against her to comfort him. “Shh, you’re okay, buddy,” she whispered against his fur as he whined.

  There was music coming from her living room. She stood silently and listened to the lyrics of Hall and Oates’ “Private Eyes”.

  A bolt of terror shot down her spine. Tendrils of fear, electric and constricting, crept over her skin, singeing a path as they went.

  She pulled the gun from her holster. A mocking voice in her head reminded her she could barely grip her gun let alone shoot a moving target. Her hand was supposed to be getting better but it wasn’t.

  The day her fish died, someone had broken into her apartment. She wasn’t crazy. Anger pounded through her with each staccato beat of her heart, pushing out the fear. She hated that someone was fucking with her but she hated it even more that she was no longer confident in her ability to protect herself.

  She shoved her gun back in its holster and pulled out her phone. “Pathetic,” she muttered to herself before she dialed.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

  She was law enforcement, she shouldn’t have to call the police. “Hi, this is Special Agent Jessica Bishop. My apartment has been broken into. I need a forensic team to dust for prints and uniformed officers to speak to my neighbors and pull security footage from local CCTV.” She started running through the checklist of things that needed doing before she realized she was micromanaging. This wasn’t her case, she didn’t get to call the shots.

  “Ma’am, are you safe? Is the assailant still in the apartment?”

  “I don’t know. I’m standing outside in the hall.”

  The dispatcher asked her to confirm her address and then said, “Okay, stay on the phone. We have a patrol car in your area.”

  “I can’t stay on the phone. I need to call my partner.” She didn’t want to end the call because she felt safer with someone listening, but the truth was she was alone. A voice on the end of the line couldn’t protect her anyway. She closed her eyes just for a second, long enough to get some emotional distance from the situation.

  She hung up and called Jamison, who answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry to call you but I need some help. Do you have any connections from your time undercover with the police in Alabama? Anyone you trust?” Jess asked.

  “Yeah, I might, but I think I need some context.”

  She took a deep breath to try to slow the frantic beat of her heart, but it refused to cooperate. “My apartment was broken into again tonight. The police are on their way but what’s the point of collecting evidence if we can’t trust the lab to process it?”

  “Again? Jesus, Jessie. Your place was broken into? Twice? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  Jess ignored the concern in his voice, reminding herself that it didn’t mean anything. “I’m telling you now. I wasn’t sure when it happened the other day but now I’m sure.”

  “I’m on my way.�
�

  Jess knelt down and cuddled Stan again while she waited for the police. It was as much to keep her calm as him.

  Finally, sirens blared outside. She ran down the stairs to let them in. Water splashed onto the sidewalk as a police car drove through a puddle of melted snow. A few seconds later another car pulled up.

  She held onto Stan’s collar so he would not bolt when she opened the door. When she saw the first police officer come toward her, her initial instinct was to look down and let her hair obscure her face so she wouldn’t be recognized. Cognitively she knew it was ridiculous, and the odds of someone guessing her identity now almost thirty years later was infinitesimally small, but the knee-jerk reaction to meeting someone new was always the same. That would never go away. She forced herself to look the police officer in the eye. “I’m Jess Bishop. I called in the break-in. My apartment is at the very top. It’s number 36. The door is open and music’s playing so it’s hard to miss.” She pulled Stan to the side to let in the four uniformed officers.

  “Did you see anyone inside?” the first officer asked her.

  She relaxed when she didn’t see any sort of recognition on his face. “No. I’m not sure anyone is in there.”

  “Okay, stay here with Officer Tibor. We’ll go check it out.” He nodded to the man coming in to indicate who he was talking about before he and his two colleagues headed for the elevator.

  Stan growled, unimpressed by the commotion and the fact he hadn’t yet been fed. She leaned down and scratched him behind the ears.

  They both stood in silence for a long time, waiting for the other person to speak.

  “What kind of dog is he?” Tibor asked eventually.

  “I’m not sure. He’s a rescue. The vet thinks golden retriever and German shepherd.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Jess forced herself to smile because she didn’t have anything to say. Sometimes she wished she wasn’t shit at small talk. It would make human interaction less awkward. She looked down at Stan. Dogs were so much easier than humans.

  * * *