Victim 14

by KJ Kalis

  Sierra sighed on the phone. “You know, it’s just so hard. It’s not too bad for me, but it’s awful for my dad. Joe was his favorite. We still don’t understand why the killer chose him…”

  Cash knew Sierra was asking for insight, any reason at all, that the Tifton killer took her brother. Based on the information he’d gotten from the profiler, there was very little physical pattern to the people the killer took. It was almost as if he had a type without having a type, which had made solving the case nearly impossible. “We still aren’t clear on that, either. Listen, Sierra, it’s late. I do have some paperwork I need to finish before I can leave the office for the evening, but please feel free to give me a call again if you have any more questions or concerns.”

  As Cash hung up the phone, his eyes settled back on the files in front of him on his computer. He tabbed back through the notes from year three, the year Joe Day was taken. When Cash took over the case, he’d gone back and re-interviewed all the families. He remembered sitting with Sierra and her dad in their home, the two of them sitting ramrod straight on a floral couch, glasses of sweet tea in front of them. Cash had asked them all the standard questions about where Joe had been and whether he had been happy at his work and in his relationships. The reality was the information that Joe’s family gave Cash was the same as every other family. There was no common denominator in terms of the place they worked, or being unhappy with their job, or a relationship.

  That’s what made the case so frustrating.

  Unlike so many other cases Cash had worked throughout his career, the serial killer in Tifton left them basically nothing in terms of evidence, unless you could call the hunks of torso behind in the pond as something to go on. With the bodies submerged in almost stagnant water for at least forty-eight hours, the medical examiner and the forensics teams were unable to pull any data from the bodies — no fingerprints, no fibers, no nothing. It was an investigator’s nightmare.

  And now the nightmare was his.

  Cash sat at his desk, drumming his fingers on it, staring at the pages in front of him, hoping for divine intervention, some sort of insight that would help him move the case forward. He had none.

  The day his supervisor gave Cash the case, he was excited. His boss, a short, balding man, who was nearly as wide as he was tall, looked at him, “I wouldn’t get too excited, Strickland. This one has seen a bunch of field agents. No one has been able to get a handle on it. Not sure you’ll do any better, but I’ve got to assign it to someone.”

  For the first couple weeks, Cash poured through all the information in the file, sure he was going to be able to find something that everyone else missed. He didn’t. One of the most frustrating parts of the case was that the killer always dropped to the torsos in exactly the same spot. The FBI and the local police were never able to catch him doing it, even though they had staked it out on more than one occasion.

  And now time was ticking. The killer hadn’t missed a six-month mark in nearly seven years. Would he kill again? Cash didn’t know, but the reality was the case was his until he got a promotion and passed the whole mess off onto some other unknowing field supervisor.

  But, if Cash could close it, it could be a career-maker. He stared at the calendar hanging on his wall again, wondering if in just a few days he’d be racing back to Tifton, hoping and praying for a breakthrough in the case. Only time would tell…

  10

  It was time.

  Ollie sat in his kitchen, stock still, for what felt like hours, the pressure in his chest growing. Dark had covered Tifton, the open windows in his house allowing for only the slightest night breeze to come in. It was just as hot and humid as it’d been that morning when he’d headed over to visit the little girl he’d decided on, Lexi. She reminded him of Sage at that age, her long hair, her wide smile lighting up everything in her path.

  And Libby had deprived him of seeing his little girls grow up.

  Ollie stood up from the table, shoving his keys in his pocket and picking up a roll of duct tape from the counter. His heart beat steadily in his chest as he walked out to the van and got it started, giving the engine a little goose as he headed down the driveway and onto the road. Retracing his steps from the morning, Ollie drove the same route as he did before, creeping slowly into the neighborhood where the little girl lived. They had a history, the two of them. She just didn’t know it, but Ollie wanted to make sure to tell her all about it if he got the chance.

  There was a little park behind the house. Nothing fancy, just a driveway that made a single loop with a few picnic tables in the middle. Why this kind of park was in Tifton, Ollie wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for it that night. Unlike his other victims, who he’d been able to grab while they were out and about, Lexi wasn’t able to do that, not yet. She was too little. Too fragile. Thinking about it, Ollie gripped the wheel tighter, realizing that Sage had grown up so much that she’d be driving soon. The thought of his daughters being able to go wherever they wanted to go scared him to death. A bead of sweat ran down Ollie's forehead as he parked the van at the edge of the loop.

  From the front seat, Ollie picked up a screwdriver, the roll of duct tape and a pair of latex gloves. He was a simple man. He only needed simple tools, he reasoned. Getting out, he started off in the darkness, cutting through the woods that ran behind Lexi Cooper’s house.

  The sky in Tifton was cloudless. There wasn’t much of a moon, and the ground was uneven. Ollie grunted as he tripped over a half rotten log in the middle of the woods. After a few minutes of navigating the darkness, Ollie could see the outline of the little white house ahead of him. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone through the woods to watch Lexi. She looked so much like Sage it was hard for him to believe. If he hadn’t known his own daughter was living in Canada, he would have sworn Lexi was his.

  Standing at the edge of the woods, Ollie stared at the back of the house, his heart beating a little faster, his palms sweating. Her window was the second one from the right. He pulled on the gloves and fingered the screwdriver in his hand, rolling it around. A calm descended over him. On some level, he knew what he was about to do was wrong, but it was the only way for him to have peace. Lexi was as close to Sage as Ollie knew he was ever going to get.

  Taking a few quiet steps into the yard, the grass muffling the noise of his boots, Ollie made his way to the window, quickly slipping the screwdriver under the sill. The window grunted as Ollie pushed it up and wedged his body through, his boots landing on the young girl's soft carpet.

  Ollie stopped for a second, getting his bearings. Lexi was wrapped up in a pink comforter huddled in a ball in her bed. All around the room, there were toys — stuffed animals, and dolls, and a pair of roller skates in the corner. Seeing the roller skates sent a wave of rage through Ollie. He gritted his teeth and in one smooth movement, walked to the side of her bed, quickly covering her mouth with duct tape before she could make any noise. Her eyes opened wide, startled out of her sleep. She mumbled a cry for help, but Ollie paid no attention. He grabbed her wrists and fastened them with more tape and did the same with her ankles. Picking her up, he walked to the window and set her down outside as he wedged his way out, closing it behind him.

  Lexi scooted away from him, her eyes filled with tears, pushing as best she could with her bound hands and feet. He ignored her, picking her up and putting her over his shoulder. With a few quick steps, Ollie was across the lawn and back into the cover of the woods.

  Once he was out of the Cooper’s yard, he slowed down. He didn’t want to trip and fall accidentally while he was carrying Lexi. She struggled against him, but he clamped a heavy hand around her back. She groaned and then began to whimper.

  When Ollie made it to the other side of the woods where the van was parked, he stopped for a moment, watching. A Tifton police cruiser drove through the park. The car stopped for a second, pausing at Ollie’s van parked off to the side. Ollie’s heart began to race. He didn’t have a plan if the police showed up be
fore he got Lexi back to his house. Watching, Ollie was breathing so shallowly he could hardly get enough air in his chest, the heat and humidity, making him wheeze. He stood silent and unmoving, gripping Lexi’s back, his arm arced up and over her, pinning her to his shoulder. He’d gotten this far. She wasn’t going to get away now.

  Watching from the edge of the woods, the police car inched forward, the sweep of the searchlight touching the ground not more than ten feet from where Ollie was stopped. His breath caught in his throat. But, just as quickly as the police car passed him, it was gone. Making his way out of the woods, Ollie walked to the van, opening the back door and laying Lexi down on her back. Her eyes were already red and bloodshot from crying. Without saying anything, he grabbed a strap from the back and tied her to a couple of metal cleats that were welded to the side of the van. The last thing he needed was the young girl somehow slipping her restraints and opening the back door, tumbling out onto the road.

  As he slammed the van door, he wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that what she was doing would help him, but the words wouldn’t come. Ollie slipped into the driver’s side and started the van, pulling out of the park and back onto the road.

  Driving toward his house, Ollie kept glancing in the rearview mirror, adjusting it so he could see her. Lexi had curled up on her side and was still whimpering. Ollie turned his eyes back to the road, driving slowly so as not to attract any unwanted attention, not that there was much traffic in the middle of the night in Tifton. It was a sleepy town, one where people went right home from work and barely left their houses after that.

  Pulling in the driveway, Ollie parked the van behind his house, getting out and slamming the driver’s side door. He opened the back doors, unclipped the straps and hoisted Lexi up over his shoulder again, fumbling for a minute with the keys. As he did, Lexi struggled. He nearly dropped her. “Stop that!” he yelled, paranoid that if he dropped her, she might be injured. Her body became limp and silent as he walked through the house, the old linoleum floors creaking underneath his feet. When he got to the basement door, he unlocked the padlock, pulling the string for the first bulb at the top of the stairs. It cast a dull glow in the darkness.

  At the bottom of the steps, Ollie turned on just enough light so he could see what he was doing. He set Lexi down in the chair that was bolted to the floor, cutting the tape off her wrists and then re-securing them to the arms of the chair. She didn’t struggle.

  Standing in front of her, Ollie felt his breath steady, the first time in weeks. He stared at Lexi, reaching out with a thick finger to push a stray lock of hair off her face. She quivered under his touch. He never meant to scare them, not any of them, but somehow, that’s what happened. Huge tears ran down her face, her skin pale. Ollie stared at her for another second and then pulled the tape off of her mouth so she could breathe better. “There’s no point in screaming. There’s no one around,” he said, turning away and tossing the used tape in the trash. He pulled off the latex gloves and tossed them as well. As he looked back at her, he could barely focus on her features. He muttered, “I knew someone else in your family. Someone from a long time ago…”

  Lexi began to cry, long, deep sobs that ate at the inside of Ollie. It felt like nails on a chalkboard, the sound clawing at something deep inside of him. He balled his fists. None of his other victims had ever cried like that, but none of his other victims had been a little girl, a lookalike for his precious Sage. The other victims whimpered a little. Most of the men just stayed silent, or they yelled at him. “I told you, stop that!”

  Lexi looked down as if she was trying to stop, but she couldn’t. The noises just kept coming. It felt like someone was sticking needles in Ollie’s ears. He couldn’t have her sobbing like this. It wouldn’t do. Ollie bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and then walked over to the bench, picking up an old brick he’d found in the yard years before. He’d always meant to throw it away — it was a tripping hazard for the girls, but somehow it ended up in the basement. He felt the weight of it in his hand and then looked back over his shoulder at Lexi. Her head was still down, the sobs racking her body, her shoulders shaking. With two steps he moved from the workbench to directly in front of her, raising his hand in the air and smashing the brick down on the side of her head. Her body slumped to the side, the crimson creep of blood soaking through her blonde hair. Dropping the brick out of his hand, Ollie reached for her wrist. She still had a pulse. That was good.

  As he turned to go back up the steps, he muttered, staring at the fragile body of the five-year-old slumped in the chair, “I told you not to cry.”

  11

  Emily had set her alarm for five o’clock in the morning, but she got a message from Mike before it went off, “911.” She rolled over in bed, pulling her phone off the charger, quickly dialing Mike. Panic rose in the back of her throat. Was everything okay at home? He picked up after the first ring, “Sorry to wake you, but I think there’s something you need to know.”

  Emily sat up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed. She’d slept with only the sheet covering her, the air conditioning in her room pumping out of a steady flow of cool air all night long. It didn’t matter, she was still hot. “What happened?”

  “There’s been an abduction.”

  The words settled over Emily. Scooting off the edge of the bed, she started to pace, “What happened? How did you find out?”

  “Just got the notification a couple of minutes ago. I have my computer set to scan for keywords. I’m still trying to piece it together, to be honest, but it looks like the Tifton Police Department got a call about an hour ago that a young girl has gone missing. Lexi Cooper. I’m still trying to put the details together. I’m not sure if it’s related to the torso killer, but I thought you should know.”

  Emily went and stood by the window, pulling the sheer curtain aside. There was no one in the parking lot and only a couple of cars, including her pickup truck. “It’s a child?”

  Mike mumbled, “Uh-huh.”

  “That doesn’t match the serial killer’s normal pattern, does it? Has he nabbed any other kids to date?” Emily racked her brain, but the fog of sleep made the wheels move a little more slowly than she wished they would.

  “No. He’s never grabbed a child before. Maybe this isn’t him? Maybe it’s a domestic issue, like a divorce gone bad, or one of those Amber alert things?”

  Although Emily would have liked to believe it wasn’t the torso killer at work again, there was no doubt the timing was suspicious. “What happened? What information do you have?”

  “Well, as I said, it’s just coming in now. What I can tell you is that based on the conversation over the police scanner, Lexi’s mom went in to check her about an hour ago. She was gone. They’d put her in her bed, just like normal. The police are over there right now, searching the property.”

  “Did they call the FBI yet?”

  Mike sighed, “I’m not sure.”

  Emily started to pace again, knowing she was asking Mike for answers he probably didn’t have. If it was any normal case, the local police department would run point until they decided they couldn’t handle it anymore, and then they’d call in the FBI. Whether that happened more quickly than normal with the history of killings in Tifton, Emily wasn’t sure. What she did know was that her gut told her there was no coincidence here. The killer may not have ever grabbed a child before, but there was always a first.

  12

  The light was barely pushing up over the horizon when Cash Strickland’s phone chirped. He’d been sitting on the edge of his bed, tying the laces of his shoes, getting ready for an early morning run. “Strickland,” he said, answering the phone.

  He heard Janet Crenshaw’s voice on the other end of the line. “Morning, sunshine. The FBI is calling.”

  One of the things Cash appreciated about Janet was that her mood was always the same. It didn’t matter if she had to come in on the weekend, the weather was bad, or the scene was
gory. She was never moody and only vacillated between happy and content and focused on the job. Why he’d never been able to find a woman like that for himself, he wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, Janet wasn’t an option. She was married with two kids of her own. “Couldn’t wait to see me at the office this morning? I was just about to go out for a run.”

  “The only place you are going to be running is to Tifton, Louisiana.”

  Cash’s stomach sunk as soon as he heard the words. “What happened?”

  “We just got a call from Tifton PD. A child has gone missing. Little girl. Lexi Cooper. Five years old, taken from her parent's house overnight.”

  Cash switched the phone to his other ear, “A child? Are they thinking this is the serial killer?”

  “Well, that’s where the fun begins. They don’t know…”

  * * *

  His plan for a morning run scrapped, Cash took a quick shower, packed an overnight bag with three days’ worth of clothing, and headed into the office. By the time he got there, Janet and two other agents were already waiting for him. “The last two stragglers are just a couple minutes out,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee.

  “Anything new on the case?”

  Janet spun her laptop towards Cash. On the screen was a picture of a young girl, blonde with a wide smile. “Meet Lexi Cooper. She’s the one we're looking for. Five years old.” Just as Janet finished her sentence, two more agents joined their group, only lifting their heads in greeting. Cash nodded and glanced around the room. Agents had different ways of coping with pressure. He noticed a couple of the agents staring directly at Janet, their faces pale, their eyes riveted on her. A couple of others were smiling and whispering. The jokesters. When Cash had first become a supervising field agent, he’d expected everyone to be as serious as he was about every case. He learned pretty quickly that some of his best agents were the ones that were the most lighthearted. They didn’t let the job get to them and they were a lot more clearheaded about the details of the case, even in the heat of battle. After one particularly difficult case, one that involved repelling into a ravine to retrieve a murder victim, Cash had an interesting interaction with the paramedics. With how physically exhausting the day had been, he’d asked to have each one of his agents checked. The ones that worked and laughed were perfectly fine. The really serious ones didn’t do as well. Two of them had to be transported to the hospital because their blood pressure was so high.