Profile of Evil

by Alexa Grace

  “He’s suspended without pay or fired. You choose, Cameron.”

  <><><>

  The Master would no longer have to concern himself about finding Alison Brown. Her whereabouts were splashed all over the home page of the local newspaper's online issue. Pounding his fist on the table, he cursed aloud as he read the article. It seemed the girl made it to a house, and a farmer rushed her to the hospital. Since the police weren't knocking at his door, it was obvious the girl had been unable to talk.

  The Master would take care of the do-gooder farmer later. No one disrupted his plans without suffering the consequences. In the meantime, his focus would be on Alison Brown and how he could get to her in the hospital to snuff out her life. Thinking about how to kill her filled him with delicious thoughts of how he could make her suffer. His preference would be for the girl to experience a long, tortuous death where she begged him to end it. But the need for expediency would limit him to slicing her throat, injecting her with poison, shooting her with a gun equipped with a silencer, or simply pressing a pillow onto her face until she suffocated. No matter the method, he was up to the task and honestly, was looking forward to it.

  He'd already driven past Morel Hospital early that morning before the sun rose. There were four Shawnee County Sheriff patrol cars in the parking lot. No doubt hospital security had been alerted, and all the entrances and exits safeguarded. At least, that's what they thought. Having faced bigger risks and succeeding, he had no doubt he'd gain entry, unsuspected, and carry out his plan. After all, the authorities still had no idea what he looked like. Since he'd always worn a ski mask, even their star witness could not describe his appearance.

  What a wonderful stroke of luck the girl was in a coma. There was no chance of the slave bitch telling what she knew while in that state of unconsciousness. He planned to make sure she never woke up, no matter what he had to do.

  A mother of a migraine made his head hurt so bad he could scarcely breathe. He'd gotten little sleep thanks to multiple, vivid dreams about his sister, Erin, entering his bedroom with a butcher knife in her hand. Each time, he couldn't determine if Erin was actually in his room — poised over his bed with the knife raised above her head, ready to slash down at him — until he jerked himself awake, shooting from deep sleep to wakefulness in a second's time. His body slicked with nervous sweat, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest, he'd pull himself up until he could quell the panic and return to sleep, until the nightmare repeated itself.

  It was his day off and he had a lot of work to do. Today he'd remove the dog crates and any signs of bondage equipment in the basement. He also planned to scrub the entire area with bleach, and set up a living area with old furniture. Even if the stupid police were lucky enough to find him, and searched his house, they'd find no forensic evidence. With no witnesses, that made for a circumstantial case against him that even a lowly public defender could fight and win.

  But before he did anything, he'd troll Facebook, MySpace and Teen Chat to see if his new preteen interests were online. As soon as Alison was dead, things would cool off, and he'd be able to bring on a couple of new slaves. He got an erection just thinking about what he'd do to them.

  <><><>

  While Brody supervised the processing of Ron Tyler at the jail, Cameron was suspending Deputy Jim Ryder without pay for a month, for his poor performance at the meth bust.

  Gabe and Carly sat in the sheriff's conference room with Ron's laptop. The first thing Gabe needed to determine was whether Ron Tyler had profiles on Facebook, MySpace, and TeenChat.

  "Ron had accounts on all three social media sites," Gabe said as he adjusted his laptop's angle so that Carly could see the display.

  "Ron's been a busy boy, mixing up batches of meth in his kitchen and casting his net for underage girls, while deluding his wife at the same time," Carly replied, her tone edged with sarcasm.

  "It looks like Ron met his Bloomington love interest on Facebook. There is a short conversation before he moves her to email. We'll find out more there," Gabe said.

  "Looking forward to it," Carly returned, sipping from her coffee mug.

  "He sporadically checked Craigslist, but not the personal ads."

  "I find that a little odd, but maybe Craigslist was not his principle hunting place."

  "I think he just lurked on the TeenChat site," Gabe said. "There is no record of any conversations."

  "Interesting. Let's look at his emails," Carly suggested.

  Next, Gabe got into Ron's email account to search for conversations he may have had with underage girls, specifically their victims. He found a month-long communication back and forth with @HotBloomieTeen that started out innocent enough, but turned to a lot of talk about sex and exchanging of suggestive photos between the two of them. Shelly was right, her husband was making plans for the preteen to meet him in Morel.

  In the emails, Gabe went back a year, then two years, then three, but found no communications with anyone other than Ron's family and friends. Many messages were written in some kind of strange code and were undoubtedly about his drug making and availability.

  On Ron's hard drive, Gabe found hundreds of pornographic photographs of children.

  "Got him," Carly declared. "Pile the child porn charges on top of his attempts to entice a child into sexual activity and transmitting obscene material to a minor, not to mention the meth charges, and Mr. Tyler is going away for a long, long time."

  "Not so fast," warned Gabe, intently staring at his laptop display.

  "What's wrong?"

  "This is odd. The kiddie porn photos were uploaded between four-thirty and six o'clock this morning. We were still at Ron Tyler's house at that time. We'd arrested Ron, cleared the house, and were ventilating it by then. Ron couldn't have uploaded these images."

  Carly rubbed her temples as she absorbed this stunning news. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

  "Carly, someone in the house uploaded those photos to frame Ron."

  "But the only people in the house were members of the sheriff's team and the hazmat guys."

  "Exactly. Brody is not going to want to hear this news."

  Suddenly, Carly's cell phone sounded. Pulling it out of her pocket, she answered, "Carly Stone."

  "Carly, this is Margaret, Alison's mother. She's awake. Alison is awake. We got our miracle. Please come as soon as you can. She wants to talk."

  <><><>

  Volunteering to take Carly to the hospital, Gabe raced through the streets, and arrived in record time. Dashing through the lobby, they took the elevator up to the third floor to ICU and ran to Alison's room.

  Propped up with pillows, Alison sat in her bed as her mother held a plastic cup of water she was sipping through a straw. A nurse, checked her intravenous tubing, finished up, and left the room.

  Carly moved to the chair at Alison's side, while Gabe leaned against a far wall. Holding Alison's hand, she said, "Alison, I am so glad to see you awake. I'm Carly Stone, and I'm a consultant for the sheriff's office."

  "Mom said you brought this teddy bear for me," Alison said. Carly noticed for the first time that the girl was holding the stuffed animal.

  "Yes, I did. I was hoping it could become your good luck bear."

  "Good idea. I'll have to think of a name for him," said Alison, as a grin threatened the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, Ms. Stone."

  "I want to be your friend, Alison, so call me Carly."

  "Thank you for the bear, Carly."

  "Alison, I want to find the man who did this to you. Do you feel like talking to me about him? Anything you remember, no matter how unimportant it may seem, may help us capture him so he can never do this to another girl."

  Alison's eyes filled with tears, and she grasped her mother's hand and tightened her grip on Carly's.

  "It's okay, honey," said Margaret. "We're here to protect you. Tell Carly what you remember."

  "The Master killed. I saw him," Alison blurted out, as tears flooded down
her cheeks.

  "The Master?" asked Carly.

  "He made us call him the Master," cried Alison. "He killed Jasmine. I saw him."

  "Are you talking about Jasmine Norris?" asked Carly, remembering the missing girl from West Lafayette.

  Alison nodded and then continued, "He let me take a shower. When I came out, he was beating her with a whip. Jasmine was in so much pain. When the woman brought our breakfast, she pulled Jasmine out of the dog crate and she was dead."

  Dog crate? Carly was sickened. The killer kept the young girls in dog crates. "Woman? So there are two of them? A man and a woman?" Carly wondered. When Alison nodded her head in the affirmative, she asked, "What do they look like?"

  Alison looked sadly at her mother, then looked back at Carly. "I don't know. They always wore ski masks."

  "So you never saw either of them without the masks?"

  "Wait a minute. I did see the woman's face when she picked me up at the bus station. She wasn't wearing any makeup and I remember thinking that a little mascara on her eyelashes and lip gloss on her mouth would make her look better. Her eyes were brown and so was her hair. I don't know how old she was, maybe in her twenties."

  "Okay, that's good. If I brought in a sketch artist, do you think you could help him or her draw the woman's picture?"

  "I could try."

  "Alison, a farmer found you and called nine-one-one."

  "There was a dog. Where is the dog?" Alison wanted to know.

  "The dog's name is Lucky, and he belongs to the farmer," Carly said. "Do you remember how you got to the farmer's house?"

  "Yes, I remember. When the woman realized Jasmine was dead, she ran upstairs. She didn't know she'd dropped the keys to the padlocks near our cages. I was able to get the keys and opened the padlock to my crate. I found some of the woman's sweats, put them on, and then punched out the glass of the bathroom window. I crawled out, ran into the woods, and realized some time later that I had cut myself and was bleeding. But I kept going. I was afraid to stop. The dog found me, and I followed the dog to the farm. I don't remember anything after that."

  "You're doing really well, Alison. Just a few more questions. Tell me about the man's house. It sounds like you entered the woods directly from his yard. Is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell me what you saw in his yard before you went into the woods."

  Alison paused, as if visualizing, and then said, "To my right was a driveway leading to a small garage. From the garage, the drive went to a red barn with a flat field next to it and in front. I remember thinking there were too many chances to see me if I went that way. So I ran for the woods."

  Suddenly Usher's "O.M.G." pierced the quiet room as Gabe's cell phone sounded. Alison appeared to notice the man at the back of the room for the first time. Gabe fished his cell out of his pocket, apologized for the disruption and headed toward the door to answer his call.

  "Anthony!" Alison screamed.

  Confused, Gabe stopped and looked at the young girl who was now sobbing hysterically.

  "I'm so sorry about the phone," he began, but Alison interrupted.

  "You're Anthony!" she repeated accusingly, as she pointed at him.

  Edging closer to the bed, Gabe said, "No, my name is Gabe Chase."

  Wiping her eyes, Alison demanded, "Come closer so I can see you better." Once he moved nearer, she added, "You look just like Anthony, except you're older."

  "Who is Anthony?" Gabe and Carly asked simultaneously.

  "Anthony said he was in love with me. He's the reason I came to Morel."

  <><><>

  Chapter Twelve

  With her heart in her throat, Carly asked, "Did you communicate with Anthony online, Alison?"

  "Yes, we met on Teen Chat, but once we'd gotten close, he asked that we use instant messaging."

  "So Gabe here looks a lot like Anthony?"

  "They could be twins except Gabe is older. Anthony is sixteen. I wish I had my iPhone, I'd show you his photo."

  "Carly, I need to get to my laptop back at the sheriff's office," Gabe interrupted, urgency written all over his face.

  "Alison, please get some rest. We'll be back. What you've told us is very important. Thank you." She gave Alison a hug, and raced out of the room with Gabe.

  Once they were seated in his car, Carly asked, "What are you thinking?"

  "I need to go through every profile with the call name Anthony attached to it in Teen Chat with a profile photo that looks like me. Then we'll be that much closer to our killer."

  <><><>

  Cameron sat in Brody's office detailing the meeting he'd just had with Deputy Ryder.

  "I just terminated Jim Ryder. I explained to him how his poor performance at the meth bust put lives at risk, and he blew up. He said neither of us would know good performance if it hit us in our faces. I have never seen anyone so angry. He turned in his service gun, his badge, and the keys to his patrol car. He insisted his performance was not bad and that we're making a big mistake that we'd live to regret."

  "Not bad? If he had fired his gun, when I specifically gave orders not to shoot inside that house, he could have killed us all," Brody insisted. "And I haven't forgotten that he was the one who cleared the room the meth head was hiding in. Ryder could have shot me or that tank of anhydrous ammonia and blown us all sky high."

  Carly appeared at his office doorway and Brody waved her in.

  "What's going on?" he asked.

  "Alison's awake. I just talked with her at the hospital, and have some important new information."

  "Come in and sit down. What did you find out?"

  Sitting down in the chair next to Cameron, Carly said, "The killer's house is located next to the wooded area Alison used to get to the farmer's house. Facing the front of the house, the thicket of trees is on the left side of the property. In addition, there is a garage and red barn. A field lies before and next to the barn."

  "I can print a map once I get into the online property map and records site," said Cameron.

  "There's more," Carly interrupted. "Alison said she'd fallen in love with someone online named Anthony, and he was the reason she took the bus to Morel. When she saw Gabe in the room, she nearly had a heart attack."

  "Why?" Brody asked, obviously confused.

  "Alison said that Anthony could be Gabe's twin, except Gabe is older. Anthony is supposedly sixteen."

  "Where is Gabe?" Brody wanted to know.

  "When we got back here, he picked up his laptop and went to his office. He said he needed to be near all of his equipment as he searches for Anthony's specific call name and real identity."

  "If anyone can find his identity, it's Gabe," said Cameron.

  "What time are we interviewing Ron Tyler today?" asked Brody, changing the subject as he pulled up his Outlook calendar on his computer.

  "About Ron Tyler," Carly began. "Gabe found communications between Ron and the underage girl in Bloomington, and yes, Ron planned to hook up with her in Morel. But other than that, his emails were to and from family members and friends."

  "That sounds good. Why do you sound so hesitant?" asked Brody, his dark eyebrows raised inquiringly.

  "Gabe found hundreds of kiddie porn photos on Ron's laptop."

  "Hell, yes!" shouted Cameron. "We've got him. Were there photos of our victims?"

  "No, Gabe didn't find any photos of our victims," Carly responded. "The thing about the pornographic photos is that they were uploaded between four-thirty and six o'clock this morning. If you recall, we were still at Ron Tyler's house at that time. Remember? We'd arrested Ron, cleared the house, and the hazmat team was ventilating it by then. Ron Tyler couldn't have uploaded the images."

  "Who in the hell did?" demanded Brody.

  <><><>

  Arriving at the hospital, the Master smiled to himself as he slipped by the front desk, completely unnoticed as a tall hospital security guard flirted with a pretty, young receptionist. Walking past the bank of elevators, he
entered the stairwell where he took the stairs at a leisurely pace. No need to hurry, no one was going to stop him. He figured since Alison Brown was in a coma, she'd undoubtedly be in the ICU on the third floor.

  Slowly opening the stairwell door to three, he peered down the hall and spotted a Shawnee County deputy sitting outside a patient's room that was undoubtedly Alison's. Closing the door, he leaned against the stairwell wall as he called the nurse's station in ICU.

  "Hello, this is Sheriff Chase. I need to talk to the deputy who is posted outside Alison Brown's room. I've tried his cell phone, but he's not answering and he has a family emergency. I really need to talk to him."

  "I'll go get him now," offered a nurse.

  He watched as the nurse got the deputy's attention. Hearing the words "family emergency", the deputy raced to the nurse's station. The Master would have to be quick, but he was sure he could make it to the girl's room without being stopped. Taking advantage of the confusion caused when the deputy found the phone line dead, he rushed down the hall to Alison's room, visualizing all the while how he'd put a pillow over her face and suffocate her.

  Reaching her room, he realized she was not alone. A woman in scrubs was washing Alison's face with a wash cloth. As he reached for the gun he'd strapped to his ankle, he debated whether he had time to take them both out. Too late. He'd run out of time. The deputy was running toward him, shouting for him to freeze.

  Unable to backtrack without getting captured, he hurried toward the exit sign at the stairwell at the other end of the hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he was on the second floor when he heard the stairwell door above him open. The deputy yelled, "Stop!" Doing the opposite, he raced down the stairs until he reached the first floor exit which led to the parking lot. Soon, he was in his car, speeding out of the lot.