Profile of Evil

by Alexa Grace

  "What a sick freak," said Gabe with disgust.

  "Our killer may be using the girls as sexual slaves. Did you read James Patterson's Kiss the Girls or see the movie? In this book, the killer lived out his fantasy by abducting women and using them as sexual slaves. Those who disobeyed were killed. Our killer may have the same fantasy. It is very possible Amanda and Sophia disobeyed or were caught trying to escape."

  "Just a guess, but I bet they were trying to get away. Who wouldn't?" asked Gabe.

  "Exactly," Carly said. "Our killer is organized; the victims were chosen and stalked online by him. Nothing about his actions is random. He went to great pains to hide his crimes by burying them in shallow graves, which brings me to a problem I have."

  "What's that?" asked Brody.

  "Putting victims in a car and setting it on fire is not characteristic of this unsub, and not something our careful, organized killer would do. He would have carefully buried them with the others. This suggests to me another unsub is involved." Carly ended her discussion with, "I hope you will use this profile as a tool to focus your investigation so you can apprehend this killer."

  "Thanks, Carly. Well done," Brody said.

  Cameron spoke up, "I have something to show all of you that backs up Carly's theory that our killer is not working alone. Amanda Jenkins did not have a car, so one of the only ways she could have gotten to Morel was on a bus so I got surveillance tapes from the Greyhound Bus Station."

  "Wait a minute," Brody butted in. "Since when does the bus station own surveillance cameras? I've advised Ernie McBride for years to get security, but he always refuses to spend the money."

  "I know, but a month ago, after a break in, his son, Terry, had a new security system installed, complete with surveillance cameras." Cameron moved to the laptop and pulled up some footage.

  "This footage is from the Saturday Alison Brown ran away. In a second you will see her in a long line waiting to enter the station."

  "I see her," Carly exclaimed. "She's the fifth person in line."

  "Right. Now watch what happens when she enters the lobby. See the figure in the black hoodie and gray sweatpants approach Alison?"

  "Is it a man or a woman?" asked Gabe.

  "It's hard to tell in this shot, but you'll see in a little while it's a woman," stated Cameron. "She says something to Alison and they leave together."

  "Damn it," said Brody, his frustration increasing. "She's hidden by the hood, and you can't see her face."

  "Careful, isn't she?" asked Carly. "See how she looks around as they leave through the door. She's nervous and afraid to be seen or caught."

  Brody asked, "Doesn't that door lead to the parking lot? Can we see what kind of car they got in?"

  "No," said Cameron. "Unfortunately, the parking lot camera is a fake until Ernie shells out more money to get a real one."

  "What about witnesses?" asked Carly.

  "I've got two detectives working through a list of passengers who were on Alison's bus from Indianapolis that day."

  "Oh, shit," said Brody. "We were right. Alison Brown is here in Shawnee County."

  "We've got to find her before it's too late," said Carly.

  "Hold everything," Gabe said excitedly. "When was the last time the county did an online predator sting?"

  Brody thought for a second, and then looked at Cam, "Has it been two years?"

  "At least that," said Cam.

  "Let's do another one and see if our killer responds."

  "I think it's an excellent idea," added Carly. "When I was in the Bureau, we did a child sex sting in Florida and nabbed fifty child sex predators. It was highly successful."

  Bryan asked, "Don't we have to be careful about how we set this thing up? I mean, if the net is too wide, we'll attract perverts from all over the country."

  "I agree. So we'll set up this one specific to Indiana."

  "How about this for a tag line: Thirteen-Year-Old Girl Seeking Indiana Boy?" Carly offered.

  "Good one," replied Gabe, with a grin. "Obviously, this is not your first rodeo."

  "We can set up the sting in a home here in Morel, just like last time," said Cam.

  "But this time, our goal is different," Carly began. "We want our guy to suggest she travel to him in Shawnee County."

  "Who are we going to get to be our preteen girl? Our female deputies are maxed out," said Brody.

  "I volunteer," Carly announced. "Like Gabe said, this is not my first rodeo. I know exactly what to look for and how to draw this guy out."

  All four men agreed with her, and a meeting was set up for the next day to discuss details.

  <><><>

  After work, Brody led Carly to the employee parking lot, but she didn't see his sheriff SUV anywhere.

  "Where are you parked?" she asked.

  "I went home after my meeting this morning and changed vehicles. I figure if you're going to drive it, you need to get familiar with it," Brody said with a grin.

  Brody led her to a shining, new Jeep Wrangler Sport S. It was cherry red and looked like it had never been driven.

  "This is what you want me to drive if I need a vehicle?" She asked with surprise. "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Because this looks like one of those car babies that men keep in their garages and never let anyone touch."

  Brody flashed a sexy smile at her, and it was all she could do not to melt at his feet. Carly smiled right back, but the curve of her mouth had nothing to do with humor.

  As he handed her the keys, he opened the driver's door for her, and said, "You driving or not?"

  Without a word, she jumped into the car and noticed it still had the new-car scent she loved. Draping her long fingers around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, she pressed her foot on the brake and put the key in the ignition to start it.

  Getting in the passenger seat, Brody closed his door and draped his arm on the back of her seat. "So what are you waiting for?"

  "I have a question."

  "What's that?"

  "How do you feel about Italian food?"

  "Love it. Who doesn't?"

  "How about a home-cooked Italian meal at the cottage tonight at seven?"

  "Who's cooking?"

  "That's very funny," she said as she jabbed him in the side. "I am. It just so happens that my Italian grandmother was a chef and gave me a mouth-watering chicken parmigiana recipe."

  "I'd say that's too irresistible an offer to turn down."

  <><><>

  Adjusting his mirrored aviator glasses, he focused on Brody Chase and Carly Stone who entered the sheriff’s office parking lot, heading toward a new red Jeep. The grapevine was burning with talk about the consultant the sheriff had hired to create a profile of the killer. Like big-shot former Federal agent, Carly Stone, knew anything about him. Such bullshit. He was bullet-proof. Undoubtedly, she was as stupid as the bitch slaves in his basement. What he wouldn’t give to hang Carly Stone from his basement ceiling and beat her raw while she screamed. His dick throbbed at the thought, hot and hard.

  Through the scope of his assault rifle, he’d watched her for hours the night before. He’d gained a new appreciation for homes with a multitude of huge, uncovered, glass windows like the cottage on the sheriff’s property. He watched as Carly Stone worked in the front room most of the night, reading and re-reading papers and typing notes on her laptop. The bitch didn’t have a clue he stood behind a tree in the woods, aiming his assault rifle at her, fighting an urge to blow her away. He’d learned long ago that timing was key. The right time would come to snuff out Carly Stone. Being a patient man, he’d wait until the perfect circumstances arose and then Little Miss Profiler would be history.

  The sheriff was now showing Stone his brand-new Jeep and flirting with her like he was a damn teenager. Seriously? Brody Chase was a fucking idiot, and that the man had discovered the graves he’d dug for dead slaves still pissed him off. He felt his temper rise, but he worked to keep it in check. He ha
d to stay in control, because once the demons took over, there was no telling what he would do. Right now, the important thing was to keep watch over the consultant, the sheriff and his brothers. What did they know? How close were they to discovering his identity?

  Cameron Chase entered the parking lot and strode toward his unmarked car. He followed Cameron as he turned right on Main Street. When the detective parked outside the Greyhound bus station, he smirked as he noted the security camera cheap-ass Ernie McBride had installed. It was pointed toward the parking lot, and was as fake as a three dollar bill, just like the ones inside. Good luck finding surveillance footage, Detective Chase.

  Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed toward the public library so he could use their Wi-Fi to visit Teen Chat. The week before, he’d hooked up online with Amber Patterson, a thirteen-year-old from Nashville, Indiana, who was the wild-child daughter of wealthy parents who spoiled her rotten. Bored at school, failing her classes, and experimenting with sex and drugs, poor Amber was being threatened by her wealthy parents to improve her bad behavior or else. How lucky she’d found him to lend a sympathetic ear to her troubles with her strict parents. A slow, evil smile spread over his face. It wouldn’t be long before he could move from empathetic to romantic, and then persuade Amber Patterson to join him in Shawnee County. Game on.

  <><><>

  Brody was pushing a shopping cart inside the IGA grocery store, while Carly directed him to the things she needed for her recipe. If he was trying to curtail local gossip about his love life, shopping with Carly was not the way to do it. They were getting so many stares, he started to sympathize with celebrities' battles with the paparazzi. There was no such thing as privacy for public officials in a small town. Why people were so curious about his love life was beyond him.

  It was his first time shopping for food with a beautiful woman and he found he liked it — a lot. Carly Stone was certainly not hard to look at, he thought, as he admired her tight, little behind. Every time she reached for something, her typical buttoned-up work shirt rose, giving him a glimpse of her smooth skin beneath. He got so turned on, he made an excuse to find a bottle of wine in another aisle. As soon as he turned the corner, he bumped into Gabe, who was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  "Hey, Gabe," he said.

  "I never would have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

  "Believed what?" Brody asked, even though he worried about what Gabe was about to say.

  "That you let Carly drive your new Jeep. How many times have Cam and I asked you if we could drive it, and you turned us down flat?"

  "This is different. I can just see you and Cam taking it for a joy ride or off-roading or worse, mudding at the Badlands. It's not likely Carly is going to do any of those things. Besides, I promised I'd have a vehicle for her while she was here working."

  "Uh-huh," Gabe said with a smirk, clearly not believing him.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  As he turned to head for the check-out line, Gabe said over his shoulder, "I think my big brother has called off his moratorium for relationships and one-night stands."

  Rolling his eyes and groaning, Brody turned back to the wine selection wondering what wine goes with Italian food.

  "Chianti might be nice," said Carly, as she rested her warm hand on the middle of his back. It was the first time she'd touched him, and his body tingled with awareness. "Was that Gabe I just saw? Do you think he'd want to join us for dinner?"

  "No," Brody said a little too quickly. Then he lied. "He has plans."

  "Oh, okay. So what sounds good for dessert, cheesecake or tiramisu?"

  "You choose. I like them both."

  "Tiramisu it is," said Carly, as she led him to the dessert section.

  <><><>

  Carly opened the door and Brody entered the cottage wearing a light yellow V-neck sweater that stretched across his powerful chest and faded jeans that fit him like a glove. The man radiated testosterone and she'd been going through some serious withdrawal. She could feel the giveaway heat in her face.

  Carrying a bottle of Chianti, Brody handed it to her and looked toward the huge stone fireplace. "Would you like for me to start a fire?"

  Carly managed to say, "Yes" and took the wine to the kitchen. Considering every hormone in her body was sizzling, Brody Chase had already ignited one fire. Walking into the kitchen, she laid the wine on the island, and searched for a corkscrew.

  Things had changed between them, and she knew the exact moment it had happened. Earlier in the conference room, she stood watching Sam Isley and Brody interact. She'd always thought of her former lover as being bigger than life, but he paled in comparison to Brody Chase. Only an inch or so taller than Sam, Brody seemed to tower over him, looking huge, powerful, and very dangerous. Polite and professional, he handled Sam Isley, but there was no mistaking who was in charge.

  But it was the hug that did her in. What started as the kindest gesture she'd experienced in a long time, the action, slow and deliberate, ignited a need deep in her that she fought to extinguish, but it kindled brighter and hotter as she melted against him. Sparks of excitement shot through her, and it was difficult to hide her disappointment when he pulled away. That was the exact moment she knew she had to have Brody Chase. Carly wanted him in her bed, and in her life — the sooner the better.

  The rest of the day, she'd let herself fantasize about getting involved with him. Imagining working together during the day, and afterwards making slow, sensual love in every room of the cottage at night.

  Brody brushed past her in the kitchen, and used the sink to wash his hands. Turning, he seemed to notice her for the first time, and a flicker of the heat like the one she'd seen in his eyes in the conference room flashed across his expression. He was appraising her with more than mild interest, and Carly felt a burst of pure feminine pleasure. She wanted him to find her desirable. Better yet, she wanted him to find her irresistible.

  <><><>

  "The food smells amazing," Brody said as he pulled the corkscrew out of her hand. Opening the Chianti, he poured a glass for Carly and handed it to her. Standing before him in a low-cut, white top embellished with tiny turquoise beads and a long, ruffled denim skirt, she had a curvy body that pushed all of his buttons in a very big way. There were two Carly Stones, he decided. There was the stuffy, buttoned-up former federal agent, and the tantalizingly sexy woman who stood before him. Their gazes locked and a crackle of energy passed between them, an undeniable pull. All he could think about was how much he wanted to press her sweet body against his.

  He tried to think of a woman to whom he was ever this attracted, but he couldn't name one — not even Mollie. Carly was the first to come to mind and the thought was unsettling. Clenching his jaw, he gritted his teeth as he fought his feelings. He had no business fantasizing about Carly, no matter how attracted he was to her. With all the available women in the world, why this one?

  Pulling the baking pan of chicken parmigiana out of the oven, Carly sprinkled a thick layer of mozzarella on top and then returned the dish to the oven to melt the cheese.

  "Ten more minutes," she announced to Brody, who was pulling dinner plates out of a cabinet and silverware out of a drawer and placing them on the kitchen island.

  "Lucky for me, your Italian grandmother was a chef," said Brody with a grin. "Were you able to spend much time with her?" Knowing little about her personal life, he realized he wanted to know everything.

  "Yes. Blake and I spent a portion of every summer with her. Some of my favorite memories are cooking with my grandmother and Blake in the kitchen of her restaurant."

  "You're lucky. Both my grandparents died at an early age, so I don't remember much about them."

  From the refrigerator, Carly pulled out fresh lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and mushrooms for the salad. Brody washed the vegetables at the sink while Carly set out a cutting board on the island. Cutting the vegetables as Carly tore the lettuce into pieces, Brody decided he liked wor
king in the kitchen with her. He savored the warm nearness of her body, and the way she brushed up against him as she worked. Every time he got near her, he felt this buzz of sexual awareness.

  The oven timer sounded, and Brody pulled the heavy pan of pasta out of the oven, sliced it into squares, and placed a square on each of their plates along with a scoop of salad with dressing. They retreated to the dining room to have their meal.

  Shoveling a mouthful of parmigiana into his mouth, Brody moaned with pleasure. "This is incredible, Carly."

  "I had some stiff competition from your steak and salad the other night," she replied with an easy smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

  Brody didn't know if the moment was right, or if there would be a right time to ask her, so he plodded ahead, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

  "Since I've already blasted some personal inquiries your way, how can I say no?"

  "Who is Sam Isley?"

  Carly visibly tensed and a moment of silence passed before she answered. "Sam Isley was my supervisor when I was with the Bureau in Tampa."

  "I think he was more than your supervisor. That was obvious by the way he looked at you," Brody replied. Dancing around the topic wasn't happening. He wanted the whole truth, not a portion of it.

  "It's not something I'm proud of, but I was involved with Sam. It turned out to be one of my biggest mistakes."

  Watching her over the rim of his wine glass, he asked, "Because he was your supervisor?"

  "Yes, because he was my supervisor and because he is who he is."

  "Why was he here today?"

  "Sam wants me to come back to the agency in Tampa ..."