Cici headed down her steps toward the closest clump of people. They all faced her, expectant, and she relayed the details of the shots.
By the time Sam returned to the sidewalk where she stood, keeping vigil, the cold had driven most of her neighbors back into their homes, but the window blinds and curtains remained open as the forensic technicians combed Cici’s yard and porch.
“Any word from Jeannette?” Cici asked. Her body shivered and her nose tingled with cold, but she refused to go back inside without Sam.
He shook his head, lines forming around his mouth and eyes. “She called in to let us know she was pursuing him. She thought he’d head up Saint Francis, but…”
“What?” Cici asked. The shiver this time wasn’t from the cold.
“I don’t know. She hung up or something.”
“So, she didn’t call you?”
Sam scowled and shook his head. “I would have told her to wait for backup and she knows it.”
“And no one’s heard from her since?”
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “No. That’s not like her.”
49
Cici
All the sacred rights of humanity are violated by insisting on blind obedience. ― Mary Wollstonecraft
* * *
“Jeannette’s a good agent,” Sam said. “Smart. Resourceful.”
“And about a hundred pound and many inches shorter than the guy—”
“Don’t think like that,” Sam said, his voice gentle. “We have to believe she’s okay.”
“But he could overpower her, right?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, a deep frown line forming between his brows. “He could. And he’s been lucky so far. Too lucky.”
Cici edged in closer, wrapping him in a hug. She needed the comfort as much as he did. He gathered her closer and she rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“Joan’s okay.”
“I’m glad,” Cici said.
“She’s not happy about the break-in at her practice,” Sam said. “Busted back door, upset animals. She’s raging. But that’s better than fear.”
Sam had asked one of the officers on the scene to drive the cat to the vet’s office, where she confirmed the cat’s identity and reviewed the security footage.
“Joan’s security camera caught part of the perpetrator’s face and the rest of his license plate. That gives us a much better APB description, which is now blasted everywhere I can send it.”
“Why did he kill the cat?” Cici asked.
“Why does he hurt women?” Sam replied, his shoulders and back muscles tensing. “I don’t know.” He appeared weary, his face a shade or two too pale and bags under his eyes.
Cici turned to look out the large window that took up about half of her living room wall. Raynor, Devon and a slew of other plain-clothes and uniformed officers continued to go over Cici’s yard and took photos of the street. They’d collected Jeannette’s bullet shells immediately. Now, an hour after they’d started, they continued to work in solemn silence.
She kept thinking about what Sam had told her about rapists and how, of all major crimes, assaulting women was the most difficult to investigate and convict.
Something must change—and she’d change it. No woman should fear for her safety.
Sam’s boss had called while Sam crouched in the middle of the street, and whatever he’d said caused Sam’s face to blanch. Sam didn’t mention anything, but Cici knew the conversation weighed on him.
Sam steered Cici toward the door, his face grim against the overhead lights.
“We’re not staying here tonight,” Sam said.
“What about Jeannette?” Cici asked again. Her worry for the other women grew with each passing hour.
Sam dropped his keys on the counter and collapsed on the floor of the kitchen. He leaned back against the cabinet, legs stretched out in front of him, as the dogs surrounded him and began to butt him with their heads, tails wagging.
“I don’t know, Cee. I just…I don’t know.”
Cici went to her bedroom and packed a bag. As soon as the man marched up her porch steps, Cici no longer felt safe.
“Evan said he’d take the dogs for a few days,” Sam said.
“I’ll pack up the dogs’ dishes, leashes, and food.”
Sam continued to pet them but his eyes slid closed. He’d been on his feet for about fifteen hours straight. Cici moved around him, collecting the items Evan would need and placed them in a large shopping tote.
“What could Jeannette’s silence mean?”
“Maybe Jeannette didn’t take her phone. Or have access to a radio. Or maybe she’s following a lead—” He cursed as he shut his eyes. “She was in her personal vehicle, so it doesn’t have Lo-Jack.”
“Alone.” Cici settled into the chair at the table, a few feet from Sam. She pulled her long, woolen cardigan tighter around her shoulders because that tickling, cold sensation once again crept up the back of her neck.
“I think she’s in danger, Sam.”
He raised his gaze to hers. Worry and fatigue and, whatever he’d seen today at those old dams, added weight to his stare. “Do you think she’s in imminent danger? Can you help me find her?”
Sam rose from the floor, patting the dogs one last time, as Cici tilted her head to the side, trying to feel her way through the emotions tumbling through her, others that brushed over her.
“I…I don’t know.”
Sam’s lips compressed but he nodded. As much help as her twin tried to be, there were certain aspects of the past and future she seemed unable to share. That made Cici feel as if she was stumbling around in a dark room, searching for the black cat…that wasn’t ever there.
Yeah, Confucius would be proud of her for remembering his metaphor.
“I wish I could help more,” she said, feeling downtrodden and overwhelmed.
“You shouldn’t need to help at all, Cee. Don’t get me wrong; your dreams have proven invaluable, but you’re not a law enforcement employee, and you shouldn’t have to live through these terrible experiences for us to figure out who the hell is committing them.”
She cleared her throat of the emotion sitting there. “I think Aci included me because she fears for my safety.”
Sam clamped his hands on her shoulders and stepped back. “So do I. Because I managed to embroil you in this case.”
But Cici shook her head. “No, Sam. I was involved before Aci sent me the first dream. And, unlike Patti or Kelli or the other women, I know he’s watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike.”
Sam flinched, but he didn’t deny her words, which she appreciated. Better to deal with the cold, frightening reality than to bury her head in the proverbial sand…and end up dead at the bottom of a lake.
Cici shivered.
“I won’t let that happen to you,” Sam said, his eyes filled with the harsh light of a promise he intended to keep.
Intentions were not the same as reality. And Cici wasn’t sure either Aci or Sam could save her from this particular man.
His phone rang again—not that the device remained silent long.
“OMI,” he said.
He listened. He pulled out his notepad and pen and wrote down a few words.
“You’re sure? That helps. Sorry I had to leave, but there was another crime… What about the camera? Could you ping the device that received the footage?” He inhaled sharply. “Oh, excellent.” He wrote again. He thanked the person and hung up.
When he glanced up, Cici saw the vicious triumph burning there. “The ISP triangulated Octoboi817’s account to an address. That matches the one the tech managed to ping when he turned back on the streaming option.”
“So, you know who it is?” Cici asked, dread and excitement, fear and anxiety pooling and rippling through her midsection, gushing into her chest.
“We know where,” Sam said. “Now, we find out who.”
50
Cici
The secret of joy is the mastery of pain. ― Anaïs Nin
* * *
Sam put the phone back to his ear. “Director Bresdeen? I have new information.”
Sam spoke to his boss, nodding intermittently at whatever he replied.
“I want to move on it now,” Sam said. “We can get a tactical team together from the folks who came up from Albuquerque and the local PD.”
Sam hung up, brutal pleasure blazing from his face. He immediately placed another call—to his former boss at SFPD. “We have a location. This is what I need.”
Sam began to spit out terms and jargon in a rapid-fire, no-nonsense tone that caused Cici to shiver. She’d seen Sam work before, but this case was personal and he became laser-focused, not just on bringing Jeannette home but on justice for the brutal deaths of the women.
“Cici, let’s get you to Evan’s.” Before she managed to open her mouth, he said, “Please,” his eyes liquid and soft, as they seemed to turn only for her.
Cici willed the fear to stay at bay, but it clawed its way over her, much like an ocean wave. She struggled to breathe as she collected her suitcase and the dogs’ bag, clipping leashes to their harnesses. They pranced and smiled, thrilled about the extra late-evening exercise.
“The others? The ones I didn’t dream of—he hurt them as much?”
Sam shoved his fingers into his hair. “Yes.”
“I’m worried about Marietta.” Cici’s voice cracked as she spoke the girl’s name.
“I have to debrief the federal team, and I have to get this right—especially if this guy has one of our own.”
“You think he managed to abduct Jeannette?”
Finally, Sam nodded, admitting what he’d circled around earlier and clearly hadn’t wanted to tell her. “And if he can outmaneuver a trained federal agent, the guy is smart, resourceful, and deadly.”
Cici nibbled on her lip.
“But why taunt me tonight? Why lure out Jeannette? I mean, he has to know you’ll come after him.”
“I think he does,” Sam said.
Goosebumps rippled over Cici’s flesh. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sam’s pale gaze landed back on hers. “I’m not sure, but, well, a hunch.” Sam grimaced. “I think he’s choosing his last stand—his hill to die on, so to speak.”
Cici’s stomach churned. “You think he’ll kill Jeannette—but only after he gets you and the rest of the police or task force or whatever there to see it.”
Sam parked in Evan’s driveway before he turned to face her, his eyes bleak.
“Yes. I think so. Which means we have no choice but to kill him in an effort to save Jeannette.”
51
Sam
The weak fall, but the strong will remain and never go under! ― Anne Frank
* * *
What he’d told Cici was true—but it was an understatement. After seeing the level of harm done to the victims, Sam worried more over Jeannette’s continued wellbeing. While Jeannette was a seasoned agent, her petite stature packed with lean muscle meant she could be overpowered by the killer. The guy they were looking for probably outweighed her by a good hundred-plus pounds, based on the descriptions.
Bresdeen called Sam back as Sam clicked off from the call that left him shaken and even more concerned.
“Any chance Jeannette’s missing for another reason?” Bresdeen asked.
“Not that I can think of. SFPD found her car,” Sam said. “Up in Tesuque. Her service pistol is missing, but her badge, her watch, and her phone were in the glove box.”
“Seems a long way to drive on a flat.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure he did. We’re looking into the area here, trying to find the Bronco.”
“You think he forced his way into her vehicle—even though she is armed.”
Sam didn’t hesitate in answering because that was what he thought. “I think it’s unlikely that he managed to overpower her but also probable. Jeannette would have contacted us, otherwise.”
“How would he have overtaken her?” Bresdeen asked. There was an undercurrent in his tone that caused Sam to pause.
“He’s big and he’s proven resourceful—look at the use of the cat.”
“Point,” Bresdeen said, his tone reluctant. “We’ll keep trying to find Jeannette. I’ve asked one of the women here to run his DNA against the CODIS and gedMatch.”
CODIS was law enforcement’s DNA database. gedMatch was a privately-held database similar to the larger, better-known 23andMe. But gedMatch allowed law enforcement to use their data to help solve crimes—especially ones like this one.
“I’ve authorized federal resources—whatever you need to catch this guy,” Bresdeen said. “Let’s find him tonight, before the public has a chance to really freak out.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sam said.
“Do better,” Bresdeen snapped.
“What does this do to our timetable in Scottsdale, sir? I’m supposed to leave on Monday morning—”
“Not with this psychopath running loose,” Bresdeen said. “This is top priority. Your only priority, Chastain. I want him in custody. I want Jeannette safe. So, use those investigative skills and put him there and extract her.”
Something in Bresdeen’s voice caught Sam’s attention again, something almost plaintive, but the man returned to his no-nonsense, slightly acerbic tone when he said, “I’m headed toward the airport. I’ll arrive in Santa Fe in two hours and forty-three minutes. I’ll be in touch en route. Keep me posted on the house raid.”
Sam’s face lost color but he managed to agree. Hell, the head of the agency taking such an active interest in the case…it must be bigger than Sam anticipated. Well, with multiple victims, a missing teen and federal agent, yeah, this case was huge—the biggest of his career.
52
Sam
Intense love is often akin to intense suffering. ― Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
* * *
Sam frowned when Raynor entered the room as he began his briefing. The man had shown up on Cici’s street, but Sam was too busy to talk to him there—or to find out how he’d returned to Santa Fe.
Not that Raynor’s transportation mattered much now. Sam focused on the group of men and two women who stood, stone-faced and ready. Raynor approached him once the briefing ended, just as Sam hefted his bulletproof vest. Sam had already changed into a long-sleeve black athletic shirt, boots, and BDU pants. He holstered his Glock and clipped his badge onto a lanyard he could keep nestled under his vest until he needed it.
“I’d like to join you,” Raynor said. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he blinked repeatedly. “If that’s okay.”
Sam studied the other man, noting the graying hair shooting out from his temples and the slight droop of his jaw. His eyes gleamed with sincerity when he said, “I screwed up. I got too invested, but more, I got greedy. I wanted this case because I know closing it will make careers.”
“It’s never about the glory, Jeff,” Sam said. “If you really think that way, this position isn’t ever going to be a good fit.”
Jeff hung his head. “I understand what you’re saying now. But it’s seductive—the idea of being famous, for collaring one of the ten most wanted.”
“One, this perp isn’t top ten.” Yet, but Sam didn’t add that. “Two, your attitude toward Cooper Urlich—expecting him to be guilty—was unprofessional. As was your unwillingness to work with me today. On multiple occasions, I’ll add. Three, I have to have a team I can count on. Everyone has to do their part or someone could get injured. Or die.” Sam leaned in as he thumped his chest. “I don’t take that responsibility lightly. I don’t want to be the reason a good agent gets laid to rest and a mom or dad doesn’t make it home to kids.”
Jeff straightened his shoulders and righted his feet, standing taller and with more self-worth than Sam had witnessed during the entire investigation. “I understand that, and I didn’t respect the weight before. I get it now, Sam, I do. And that’s why
you’re so well-regarded at this. You’re methodical, cautious, shrewd. You get your guy.” Raynor met his gaze. “I want to learn from you and do it myself.”
Sam glanced around the room, aware of the many eyes watching them.
“All right, but you’re with me.”
Raynor tilted up his chin as he heard the underlying chastisement in Sam’s sentence—being with the lead was usually a rookie placement because the lead coordinated and didn’t do as much of the down-and-dirty action.
“Got it.”
“Then, check your weapon and grab gear. We’re out in five.”
Sam slapped his arm and moved over to talk to the men and women taking the rear exit.
The house sat on the end of a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood off Siringo, north of Sol y Lomas and near one of the private high schools. The squat beige stucco building sported a sagging front porch and a faded, empty carport. Based on their most recent intel that the perp’s vehicle was parked near Meow Wolf—the back tire blown out as Jeannette stated—the empty carport wasn’t surprising. But it also didn’t do anything to reduce Sam’s concern.
“Any activity?” Sam asked Devon, the young officer who had been tasked with watching the house once they determined its location.
Devon shook his head. “Nothing, sir.”
Sam clasped his shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, man.”
The team fell into position while Sam spoke to Devon. He must attempt to serve the warrant before they stormed the house, which worried Sam.
He strode up the door and banged, hard, yelling, “SFPD. We have a warrant. Open the door.”
A Revelation of Death Page 20
