Oliver Quick

by Ditter Kellen

  Oliver surged to his feet, snatching up his cell phone as he went. He put in a call to Richard, who answered on the third ring. “Holland.”

  “Richard, it’s Quick. Another body has surfaced.”

  “I know. The Baldwin County Police Department just notified us. I was about to call you.”

  Oliver began stepping into his shoes. “I want pictures of that crowd. As many as they can get. And tell them to be discreet.”

  “Already done. I’ll see to it that the pictures get to you, but I want you to sit this one out.”

  Motioning for Jason to follow him, Oliver swiped his suit jacket off the back of the sofa. “I need to see it, Richard.”

  Holland practically growled through the line. “Dammit, Quick, you have a concussion.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Holland’s sigh echoed through the line. “You’re going to drive me to drink.”

  “I could always use the company,” Oliver quipped, hurrying toward the door.

  Richard apparently found zero amusement in Oliver words. “You’re an asshole, Quick.”

  “So you’ve said a hundred times. See you at the crime scene.”

  Jason was suddenly there, in between Oliver and the door. “Oh no, no. Where are you going?”

  “We. Where are we going.” Oliver refuted. Jason’s eyes narrowed. “I know you don’t think I’m going with you to the crime scene.”

  Oliver stepped around him. “You’re driving. Unless you want me to take your car?”

  Jason’s face showed his anger. “While on narcotics? Have you lost what’s left of your mind?”

  “Years ago.” Oliver opened the door and held it wide. “Now hurry, we’re wasting precious time.”

  Oliver and Jason spoke very little on the drive to Orange Beach, Alabama. Oliver could almost smell the agitation coming off Jason in waves. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

  Jason blew out a breath. “No, you really shouldn’t have. I expect a steak when we get back.”

  “Deal,” Oliver agreed, shooting his friend a grateful look. “But after what you’re about to witness, I doubt you’ll want a steak.”

  “Great.”

  After driving a little over an hour and a half, they arrived at Orange Beach.

  Police presence was strong, with several officers diverting traffic away from the parking lot that led to the pier.

  A young, dark-haired female officer approached, attempting to deter Jason’s car back toward the main road.

  Jason rolled down his window, leaning back against his seat to allow Oliver to produce his credentials.

  The officer jerked her chin to the left. “Park next to that patrol car.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” Oliver replied, replacing his credentials.

  Once parked, Oliver and Jason climbed from the Mustang and made their way through the sand and down to the pier.

  Richard met them at the crime scene tape. “That was fast.”

  Oliver donned his Oakley’s. “Jason drives a Mustang. What do we know so far?”

  Holland walked alongside Oliver as they trekked through the sand to the beach. “Blonde female. Eye color is undetermined at this time, but from the looks of her face, I’d venture to guess twenty-five to thirty years of age.”

  Oliver’s head began to throb once more. “Same MO?”

  “Yeah.” Richard glanced over at Jason who trailed along on Oliver’s right. “He should probably stay with the car. It’s not a pretty sight.”

  Jason slowed his steps. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” He stopped altogether and turned back the way he came.

  “Who found the body?” Quick asked the second Jason was out of earshot.

  “A local young couple out for a swim. They moved beneath the pier to smoke, found the bag tied off, half submerged beneath the water.”

  Oliver thought about that for a moment. “Most folks go to the beach between eight and ten am in order to get a good spot. What time was the bag discovered?”

  “A little after two pm today.”

  Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, Oliver pointed out, “It gets dark between seven thirty and eight pm in the summer. That means our vic was dumped out here sometime during the night.”

  “Most likely,” Richard concurred.

  Oliver spoke without looking at him. “Who took pics of the onlookers?”

  “Merv Campbell.”

  That gave Oliver pause. He was more than aware of Merv’s dislike of his person. “Perfect.”

  “I know you don’t care for him, Quick, but he’s a damn good agent.”

  Oliver turned to peer down at Richard. “I know what a good agent Campbell is. I got no problem with him. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.”

  “With good reason. You tried to kill the man, Quick. Had it not been for me, you probably would have.”

  Oliver grunted. He was all too aware of what went down six years ago. “I wouldn’t have killed him.”

  Thinking he’d had the Silencer in his grasp, Oliver had lost his mind when Campbell let the guy go. Oliver had broken Merv’s nose and beaten both his eyes shut.

  The fact that the guy Campbell released had turned out to be innocent hadn’t mattered to Oliver in that moment. Someone had killed April, and that someone needed to pay.

  “Try telling that to Campbell,” Richard shot back, moving off to speak to the local police chief.

  Oliver sighed at Campbell’s approach. “Hello, Merv.”

  “Quick,” Merv tightly responded, the sun beaming off the top of his neatly shaven head. His mocha-colored skin was wet with sweat, as was his white dress shirt. And though his dark-brown eyes were hidden behind the lenses of his mirrored sunglasses, Oliver had no doubt he would find disdain lurking there.

  As far as profilers went, Merv made a good one. He could read people exceptionally well, which was what made him good at his job. But it was his attention to detail that Oliver appreciated so much about him. “Look, Merv. I never did get a chance to apologize—”

  “Save it.” He handed Oliver a memory card from a camera. “Holland said to give you a copy of the pictures I took today.”

  Oliver accepted the small memory card and tucked it into the pocket of his slacks before stepping around Campbell.

  Merv followed suit.

  “Did you get a feel for anyone in particular?” Oliver pulled on a pair of gloves, lowering to his haunches next to the open bag.

  Blood, so much blood coated the victim’s skin, Oliver found it difficult to determine her hair color.

  But there, resting just above her ear, lay a dried piece. She was definitely a blonde.

  Merv crouched down next to him. “No one really stood out, but if I were a betting man, I’d bet everything I own that he’s here now, watching.”

  Oliver’s Oakley-covered gaze swept over the crowds of curious onlookers. “Yeah…he’d want to witness her humiliation. The sick fuck.”

  Quick questioned the crime scene investigators without removing his gaze from that crowd of onlookers. “I don’t suppose you found an ID?”

  One of the officers standing nearby offered, “No ID, but a woman came up missing last week in Foley, Alabama, which is approximately fifteen minutes from here. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, just like the others found along this beach.”

  Oliver pushed to his feet. “The missing woman… Did she happen to be pregnant?”

  The officer nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  “That’s her, all right,” Oliver stated aloud, more to himself than to the officer watching him closely. “I’d stake my life on it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oliver and Jason arrived back at the condo, a little after nine pm.

  Jason had ordered them a pizza and now sat on the couch while Oliver perched on the other end, laptop in hand, going over the crime scene photos.

  “I’m going to bed,” Jason announced, get
ting to his feet. “I’ll check on you in a couple of hours.”

  Oliver barely heard him, so engrossed was he in the images. “No need. I’ll be up for a while, going over these photos.”

  “You have a concussion, dickweed. You’re supposed to be resting.”

  Oliver finally looked away from the computer screen. “Try telling that to this girl’s family.”

  Jason shook his head and disappeared into the guest room.

  Flipping on the lamp sitting on the end table, Oliver took another pain pill and washed it down with the lukewarm glass of water perched next to it. His head hurt something fierce.

  He rubbed at his burning eyes and flipped to the next set of pictures.

  A crowd of onlookers were situated before him, captured in an image that would forever freeze them in time.

  Most of the faces were pinched with worry, while others were slack mouthed with shock. Nothing Oliver hadn’t seen a thousand times before.

  He was just about to flip to the next screen, when someone in the crowd of rubberneckers caught his eye.

  A blond man stood in the back, his arms crossed over his chest, and a bland look on his face.

  Oliver zoomed in, noticing something vaguely familiar about him, though he couldn’t quite place it.

  Had he seen this man somewhere before? He wasn’t sure.

  Enhancing the image as much as possible without distorting it, Oliver studied the guy’s expression. He had none. No concern, fear, shock, nothing. His face was simply devoid of emotion.

  “Where have I seen you before?” Oliver whispered aloud, studying the image intently.

  And then it hit him. The man leaving the medical examiner’s office in Baldwin County, Alabama. The beach bum wearing the flip-flops.

  But Oliver had definitely seen him before arriving at the medical examiner’s office. That’s why he’d look familiar.

  Oliver surged to his feet so fast, his head spun. He fumbled around for his phone, not bothering to check the time, and then quickly put in a call to Richard.

  “Holland,” Richard answered in a sleepy voice.

  “I know who he is, Richard. He was right there in front of me all along.”

  “You know who who is?”

  “The Dockside Killer.”

  Rustling sounds could be heard on the other end of the line. “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be there in half an hour.” The line went dead.

  Oliver flipped open one of the folders on his coffee table, the one that contained images of the first victim’s crime scene.

  He carefully scanned through the dozens of photographs but didn’t find what he wanted.

  Laying that one to the side, he opened the next one and started the process all over again.

  And there, amidst the crowd of faces in the picture, stood the guy from Orange Beach. The same guy Oliver had seen at the Baldwin County Medical Examiner’s office.

  “I found you, you son of a bitch. I found you.”

  Jerking up the phone, Oliver put in a call to FBI headquarters in Huntsville, Alabama.

  Nancy Abrams answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Nancy, it’s Oliver.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Hello, Quick. It’s been a minute.”

  Oliver had no patience for small talk. Not with his head full of stitches, scotch, and pain pills. Yeah, he was a mess.

  “I’m emailing an image over to you now. I need an ID on this guy as soon as possible.”

  “You always did get right to the point. And you’re lucky I’m pulling a double. How soon do you need this?”

  “Yesterday,” Oliver responded with a bit of urgency.

  “I’ll send you my findings.”

  “Oh, and Nancy, see what you can find on dismembered bodies in the Alabama area and surrounding states. Also, drownings.”

  “Okay. How far back do you want me to go?”

  Oliver thought about that for a minute. “Thirty years.”

  “That’s going to be difficult, considering some of them won’t be in our database. That’s a huge window, Oliver. I may have to look through old microfilms. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something. If I find something.”

  “Thank you, Nancy.”

  “Always, Quick.” She disconnected the call.

  Oliver paced his condo for what seemed like hours when the doorbell finally rang.

  He jerked open the door to find a sleepy-looking Holland standing on his porch. “We got him, Richard.”

  Holland trailed into the room and tossed his jacket onto the back of the sofa next to Oliver’s. “Show me.”

  Oliver took his laptop over to the kitchen and placed it on the counter before facing Holland. “When I went to the Baldwin County Medical Examiner’s office, I noticed a guy leaving the building as I was pulling into the parking lot. I remember thinking he looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before.”

  Richard pulled up a stool and took a seat. “Go on.”

  “Well, I blew it off since the guy looked like every other beach bum I’d seen this summer. But then when I was looking at the photos from today, I saw him again. Though, I couldn’t recall where. Then it hit me. The medical examiner’s office. But how could I have recognized him at the ME’s office, unless I’d seen him before that? So, I began digging through the crime scene photos of the women discovered in Baldwin County and saw him there as well, standing amidst the crowd of onlookers.”

  Richard’s eyes lit up. “It has to be him. But what the hell was he doing at the ME’s office?”

  “Hoping to see the body once more.”

  Holland rubbed at his stubbled chin. “But the ME wouldn’t just allow him in the back to see a body. Especially since both women have already been identified.”

  “I know,” Oliver agreed in a soft voice. “Which means that he’s either related to one of the corpses or pretending to be.”

  Richard nodded. “I’ll call Nancy and have her run him through the—”

  “I’ve already called her. I also told her to go back thirty years and look for similar cases. Hopefully, she’ll find something that will tell us who this guy is.”

  Holland studied Oliver for a heartbeat. “You really should consider coming back to the bureau on a permanent basis. We could sure use you.”

  Oliver looked away, turning his attention back to the open screen of the laptop.

  “Unfortunately,” Richard continued in a low tone, “there will always be another serial killer, Quick. And you were born to find them.”

  Oliver wasn’t so sure. He faced his superior once again. “Just like I was born to catch the Silencer?”

  “We will catch him,” Richard stated with conviction. “Maybe not today, but he’ll eventually make a mistake. They all do.”

  “Not this guy, Richard. We’re not dealing with the average unsub. The Silencer is intelligent, crafty, and has the patience of Job.”

  Holland held Oliver’s gaze. “But he isn’t a biblical character who found favor with God. He’s just a man, and men make mistakes.”

  “I hope you’re right, Richard. I hope you’re right…”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What’s going on, son? You want to tell me why we’re being followed?”

  Oliver peeled his eyes open to find his parents standing next to his bed. He was now second-guessing himself on giving them a key to his condo. “Mom. Dad.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Evelynn gasped, rushing to Oliver’s side. “What happened to you?”

  Oliver inwardly groaned. “I’m okay, Mom. I was in a little fender bender. It’s nothing serious.”

  Jason poked his head inside the room, his eyes swollen from sleep. “Don’t let him fool you, Mrs. Quick. He has a concussion. I was just coming in to wake him.”

  Oliver narrowed his eyes in Jason’s direction. “Thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jason shot back, the corner of his mouth lifting. He stumbled back into the hallway, calling o
ver his shoulder as he went,” I’ll start the coffee.”

  Enduring his mother checking his wounds, Oliver gently moved her hands aside. “I’m really all right, Mom. I promise.”

  Franklyn Quick crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, are you going to tell me why we’re being watched?”

  Oliver threw the covers back and sat up. He should have known his father would notice a tail. Franklyn Quick had retired from the sheriff’s department only six months earlier, as one of the district’s top paid detectives.

  “Can I at least get some coffee in me before getting the third degree?” Oliver moved to get up. “I’ll explain everything once I’ve brushed my teeth and I’m caffeinated.”

  His father stepped back, tugging on his wife’s arm. “We’ll wait in the kitchen.”

  Oliver grabbed a pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt on his way to the bathroom.

  He showered as quickly as he could, brushed his teeth, and shaved his face.

  Splashing on some aftershave, he meandered to his bedroom and dressed in a dark-blue suit. He then stepped into a pair of comfortable Italian loafers and holstered his 9mm.

  With an inward sigh, Oliver made his way to the kitchen.

  Jason handed him a cup of coffee. “You look better than I feel.”

  Oliver merely narrowed his eyes. His head hurt, as well as his ego. It wasn’t everyday a thirty-eight-year-old man woke to find his parents standing next to his bed.

  Evelynn hurried to Oliver’s side. “Why didn’t you let us know you’d been in an accident? I would have been here in a heartbeat.”

  Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you, Oliver thought, gazing down at his mother.

  He knew without a doubt that Evelynn Quick would have fussed over him to the point he’d go nuts. And as much as he loved her, he couldn’t have handled her underfoot.

  “I know you would have, Mom. But honestly, I’m perfectly fine.”

  Jason made a sound in the back of his throat. “Since you’re perfectly fine, I’m going home. I’ve got places to be.”

  Oliver waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t let me keep you.”