The Third to Die

by Allison Brennan

  “Oh God—do I need to warn the staff?”

  “No—the killer has a pattern. The first victim in each city is a nurse.”

  “But Anne wasn’t a nurse anymore!”

  Matt didn’t have to say anything before Olivia figured it out on her own. “You think it’s someone who knew Anne when she worked here? Why? Everyone loved Anne.”

  “Could be a staff member—former staff member—or a patient. Or someone who gave her undue attention. We’ve gone through police records and Anne never took out a restraining order against anyone. But you were her best friend. Did she ever think she was being followed?”

  “No—not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like a stalker.”

  “It could be anything—even just a feeling.”

  “I can’t think of anything—we did everything together. Worked, had the apartment, we both loved cross-country skiing. She wasn’t close to her parents and ended up spending more holidays with my family than hers.”

  “Okay—we’ll come back to that. I’m fishing around here, but we think the killer knew Anne when she was a nurse. Did she have any male friends? Or an ex-boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend? Who’d wait so long to kill her? In front of her b-baby?” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “The guy she dated before Craig was kind of a jerk. He was a doctor, and I told Olivia not to date him, but he was really cute and did the whole knight-in-shining-armor shtick. He cheated on her, broke her heart. Jason Tragger. Still single, still dating nurses—but in Seattle.”

  It didn’t fit, not Catherine’s profile, but Matt made a note. “What kind of doctor?”

  “Oncologist. Specializes in childhood leukemia. I mean, he’s a jerk to his girlfriends because he can’t keep it in his pants, but he’s a really great doctor.”

  “How long did they date?”

  “Six or seven months. Then she didn’t see anyone until Craig rolled into the ER. He looked like death warmed over, but she said he had a sparkle in his eye and she knew he was the one.” She sighed. “They loved each other from the beginning. I mean real, soul mate kind of love. My husband and I were together for years before we talked about marriage, and it’s comfortable, you know? I mean, I love him, and we have a great marriage, but it’s a comfortable love, like cozy blankets by the fire and a dog at your feet. When Craig looked at Anne, he saw nothing but Anne. From the minute they met until the day she died. It’s been six years but he’ll never remarry. It would be romantic if it weren’t so damn sad.”

  “What about problems at work? Someone who didn’t like her, who thought she did a poor job, or maybe too good of a job and outshone them?”

  She looked confused. “That was so long ago. I really can’t remember anything specific. We rarely worked together, but if there was something that bothered her she would have told me. And why would someone kill Anne because of something she may have done or said? Or all those other people the newspaper mentioned?”

  “We don’t know. Between you and me, we think each victim may have slighted the killer in some way, very possibly unintentionally. Like for example, if you cut someone off on the road but don’t notice and you get a horn in your ear. Or you get a promotion when someone else thought they should have gotten it. It could be completely innocuous, but something that festered in a person with a psychopathy.”

  “I see what you’re getting at,” she said, though she sounded confused, “but Anne was a great nurse. Patients loved her. Doctors loved her.”

  “But the emergency room—she probably dealt with tragedy. Some people don’t take tragedy well.”

  “Like losing a patient?”

  “Sure.”

  “I couldn’t possibly remember every patient she lost. She worked in the emergency room—there were people who were dead when they came in, or already dying. It can get crazy down there.”

  “What about her immediate supervisor.”

  “She had several during the time she was here. Administration should be able to help you there.”

  Matt already had Ryder working with administration. “Olivia, you may remember something after I leave—and so I need you to call me, even if you think it’s small. Anything about the time that Anne worked here that gave you pause, or that she mentioned that bothered or disturbed her in any way. It may be a colleague, a patient, a patient’s family—anything.” He handed her his card and wrote his cell number on the back.

  “I will.” She stared at the card. “So the newspaper was right—Anne was killed by a serial killer.”

  “Yes, that part they got correct. But much of what they wrote was exaggerated. I can tell you this—we have a team dedicated to finding this killer and giving Anne and the other victims justice.”

  “Is it true a teacher might die tomorrow?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Matt was still angry that the press had so much information.

  “I hope you find him, Agent Costa.”

  So do I.

  * * *

  Matt had a missed call from Michael and hit redial. “News?”

  “Big news. The jackpot. I found it.”

  Michael sounded winded but excited.

  “You found the knife?”

  “Yes. I found the knife approximately sixty feet from the shore. Jim and Miles from the crime lab are here—they wanted to package the evidence specifically. It’s not the knife they’re interested in.”

  “You lost me, Harris.”

  “Shit, sorry—I got distracted. Thirty-five feet from the shore, I found a large plastic bag full of clothes. The bag had been deliberately cut—likely by a knife—so water could get in. Jim figures the killer was disposing of the clothes he wore, said no other set of clothing has been found at the previous crime scenes, so this could potentially be huge.”

  “He’s right. But it’s wet—what can they get from it?”

  “That’s why Jim rushed up here. They want to contain the clothes and bag in sterile conditions, immediately start the drying process—which is going to take time. He said even with water contamination if there’s a lot of blood, he’ll be able to find some and match it to the victim. And possibly the killer if he somehow nicked himself through his gloves. But there could be other evidence—like a receipt or a note or credit statement. Depending on the ink and paper, they might be able to read it if it’s dried properly. Maybe even hair wrapped around a button. We’ll at a minimum get the clothing sizes, brands. Anything that can narrow the suspect. Hell, he could have left his driver’s license in the bag. Remember the idiot in New York who dropped his wallet next to his victim?”

  Matt wasn’t holding out hope that this killer made that big of a mistake, but he’d take the smallest lead they could get. “All good. I need you back here before the press briefing. But first, we have a conference call with Catherine, then we’re going to SPD early. I want you to make the Public Information Officer your best friend while I make sure Maddox took care of the leak.”

  “Wish I could watch that.”

  Matt wasn’t in the mood. “Anything else?”

  “No. I’ll hop a ride back with Torino—I made her my best friend, too, considering you pissed her off yesterday.”

  “Maybe you can be the fucking team diplomat,” Matt mumbled and hung up.

  Matt went back to the operations room in the hotel, which was only ten minutes from the hospital. Ryder was juggling two calls and typing. The kid was solid, and not for the first time Matt was glad he’d brought him on board. He might not have FBI experience, but Matt suspected that someone with more experience and a set way of doing things wouldn’t be able to adapt well to a fast-paced environment that required multitasking, from mundane chores—like running background checks and setting up the war room—to high-tech processing and information analysis. Ryder had been required
to jump from task to task without a break, and learning to prioritize was difficult for the best of agents. Ryder seemed to have an intuitive grasp of what was most important and work from there. Matt barely had to tell him how to do his job. They’d worked together for a month at national headquarters, and already Matt found him indispensable.

  Matt sent Tony an updated report, sent Catherine the information on the knife and clothing, then reiterated that he wanted her to brief his team before the press conference. She responded that she would be available at two-thirty Pacific time. Less than an hour from now. He sent Jim a message and asked if he could be here at two-thirty, or be somewhere where Ryder could loop him in—he wanted Jim’s impression as well as Michael’s.

  As soon as Ryder got off his call, Matt said, “We need to set up a Skype call with Catherine at two-thirty, then Michael and I are going to SPD to talk to the chief. Press conference is at four. I’m not happy about it, but there’s not a damn thing I can do at this point except mitigate the damage.” And maybe—just maybe—save someone. He looked at his watch. Damn, damn, damn! He didn’t have enough time. He didn’t want another victim dead, and he didn’t want to think about what would come next.

  Ryder made a note, then said, “Lawsuits with the hospital that went to trial are public—I’m running a program to pull out all lawsuits during those seven years plus the year after Anne Banks left where either Banks or the emergency room was named.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I had a guy in the cybercrime unit at headquarters help me write the algorithm,” he said.

  “Great. But I sense a problem.”

  “Lawsuits that are settled or dropped for lack of standing aren’t in the database. If a lawsuit was filed and dismissed, we need to pull it from another field, and often the names of the defendants—such as if Anne Banks was named as a defendant—are redacted because the suit was determined to be without merit.”

  This was why Matt never once considered being a lawyer. Shit like this would drive him insane.

  “I’ve reached out to the legal department at the hospital and they claim their lawyers are figuring out what they can give us,” Ryder continued, “but I don’t think they’ll share anything. I asked Tony to expedite a warrant for any complaints against Anne Banks or the emergency room during those years.”

  “Outstanding,” Matt said. His phone rang. It was Andy Knolls. Matt answered. “Good job on the ATV.”

  “Credit Kara, not me. We’re heading to Spokane—but we have time before the press conference. When is it scheduled?”

  “Four—swing by the hotel first.” He could use as many people as possible right now.”

  “Almost there.”

  “Room 310.”

  Matt used the few minutes he had to update the whiteboard with information about Anne Banks and how she connected to Spokane. But she didn’t connect to Liberty Lake. Just like Victoria Manners.

  So why Liberty Lake? Why not kill her in Newman Lake where he left her car? Why not kill her any number of places in Spokane? There were parks, lakes, a river that went through town, wide-open spaces, mountains, flatlands—there was a specific reason the killer chose that spot. Matt had to figure it out.

  Matt pulled out the maps of Portland and Missoula where he had already marked the locations where the bodies were found. All within the city limits, but not clustered together. He stared, willing the answers to come to him, but he didn’t even know the right questions.

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Ryder jumped up and let Andy and Kara in. Andy looked around. “You could have used my office. We have room.”

  “I appreciate it,” Matt said, “and we may need to expand there, but we’re still on a learning curve—and a time crunch. It helps to have my room right there.” He jerked a finger toward the adjoining door. Plus, at the time Ryder set this up they didn’t know how cooperative the local police would be. The jury was still out on Chief Dunn, who Matt had yet to meet but had been quoted in that damn newspaper article.

  To Ryder he said, “Find out Harris’s ETA.”

  To Kara he said, “You were right.”

  “I usually am,” she said, then winked. “You mean about the lake or the ATV?”

  “ATV?” Matt questioned.

  Andy said, “That was all Kara. I was ready to go to lunch, but she had a hunch and it paid off.”

  “I was thinking about the lake—they found the knife and the clothes.”

  “What does it mean?” Kara said. “Other than he knows how to destroy evidence.”

  “My forensics expert thinks they might get something, even with the clothes saturated.”

  “Jim, right?” Kara said. “I liked him. Sort of had that gruff but smart Colombo thing going for him.”

  “He got Miles on board right quick,” Andy said. “Good idea putting them together, Matt.”

  “I had a hunch—and not any choice. We need as many forensic people as we can get in a fast-moving case like this, plus access to the Spokane lab.”

  Ryder said, “Agent Harris is five minutes out.”

  “Get Jim and Miles on Skype first, then dial-in Dr. Jones. By the time we get it all working, Michael will be here.”

  Kara was inspecting the whiteboard where he had the seven victims laid out. “The first victim is a nurse, too?”

  “Not only that, but she worked for seven years in the same hospital where Victoria Manners was working when she was abducted.”

  “No coincidence there.”

  Matt snapped his fingers. “Ryder—as soon as you can, send photos of each victim—our public photos—to Maddox. I want to get them on air and in the paper. Locally for certain, as well as the other jurisdictions if we can swing it. If we can shake our killer up a bit, I’m all for that. And maybe someone local will recognize the other victims. From college, work, fucking childhood best friend, whatever we can get will help.”

  “Any word on the killer’s means of transportation from Liberty Lake on March 2?” Andy asked. “If we assume that he left his own vehicle there to use after he killed Manners, then he would have to get to Spokane another way before then.”

  “We’re still working on it,” Matt said with a glance at Ryder.

  Ryder said, “We know he didn’t take a bus, we’re working on the taxis—Yellow Cab and private.”

  “We expanded it to the morning of March 3 as well,” Matt said, “in case he drove his car to Spokane after stashing the ATV and needed to get back after the murder. But most people would remember picking up a lone guy the same day as a body was found. My guess is that he had his own vehicle hidden at Liberty Lake and used public transportation until he grabbed Manners and had access to her car.”

  “Maybe he’s staying in Liberty Lake,” Kara said. “He could have walked to his place.”

  Matt stared at her. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “He would still need to get to Spokane to grab the nurse,” Kara continued.

  “I can reach out to the property management companies and ask for any lone men who are renting property this month,” Andy suggested.

  “Do it. I’m not certain he’s that close, but it would explain why he picked the lake to leave the body.”

  Michael walked in and Matt introduced him to Kara and Andy.

  “We met at the lake,” Michael said.

  Ryder said, “I have Dr. Catherine Jones, Mr. Jim Esteban and Mr. Miles Jordan all ready.”

  “Let’s go,” Matt said.

  Ryder adjusted the largest monitor so that Catherine was the main focus and Jim and Miles were a smaller box in the corner of the screen.

  “Catherine, can you hear me?” Matt asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Everyone, Dr. Catherine Jones, a forensic psychiatrist with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. She wrote the first profile of the
Triple Killer three years ago with minimal information. It took months before we connected all six murders to the same killer. But we did, thanks to Catherine.” Matt introduced everyone to Catherine, and then said, “Before you begin, Catherine, I wanted to ask Jim about the evidence found at the lake today.”

  Jim said, “We found a knife that could possibly be the murder weapon based on the size and type. We also found a large plastic bag of clothing, intentionally saturated with water. Miles and I have already started drying the clothing in a sterile, controlled environment and if there is any remaining evidence, we’ll find it. However, the biggest find was the gloves.”

  “Were they with the clothing?” Catherine asked.

  “No—they were in a smaller plastic bag and weighed down with a rock. The lake water cleaned them somewhat, and the killer may have assumed if we found them they would be completely devoid of evidence. But there was still a substantial amount of blood on the gloves. There’s no real current in the lake—no recent storms. No flowing water. Over time, the evidence would have been destroyed, but we found it sixty hours after he disposed of it. The Spokane lab has a pretty good setup—we’re going to focus on processing the gloves at this point while we wait for the clothes to dry. If there is any physical evidence from them, we’ll find it. We’re also processing Manners’ car—her missing shoe was found in the trunk. He may not have noticed—or didn’t care—that it had fallen off. Plus, I just received word back from the ME that he reviewed all the autopsy records that you sent over, Costa, and said that preliminarily, all the wounds are consistent and most likely created by the same person. The outlier is Anne Banks—her autopsy results are different enough that he wouldn’t commit.”

  “Great news,” Matt said. “None of the other crime scenes have collected so much evidence in such a short time.”

  “True,” Catherine concurred.