Hollywood Scream

by M. Z. Kelly

  “That’s because the original investigation missed the finding. It was confirmed by the medical examiner after a second autopsy was performed. Updated reports were provided to the local police, but I don’t think they were sufficiently circulated to the investigators.”

  “So, how does this relate to your theory about the Angel not working alone?” Walling asked.

  “A witness said he saw a man arrive at the apartment building around ten the night of Crawford’s murder. An hour later, a woman joined him.”

  “A woman?” Walling said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Why is that?” Olivia asked.

  “These cases involve the work of one person, and they have none of the typical trademarks of a female serial killer.”

  “Maybe you’ve never heard of Aileen Wuornos,” I said, remembering the killer from the movie Monster, played by Charlize Theron.

  Walling scoffed. “I guess it’s no surprise that you’re bringing Hollywood into this case, given our guest. And, just for your information, Wuornos was a prostitute who killed her johns out of anger over her lifestyle.”

  Hyland spoke up. “While the perpetrator in that case may have had a very different motive, there’s nothing in this case that rules out the possibility there’s a second offender who may be female.” He looked at Valdez. “What about the second case you referenced?”

  Valdez worked her laptop again, and we saw a second crime scene appear on the screen. “This is Marjorie Halston, a high school student from Fort Lauderdale. She and her boyfriend were confronted in her parents’ home while they were away. They were tied up, sexually assaulted, and murdered on the night of June 3rd, 2013. In this case, just like with Crawford, a neighbor saw a woman entering the residence, sometime after midnight. She left a couple of hours later with a man, presumably our suspect.”

  “Anything in the way of composites on either subject?” Hyland asked.

  “Nothing. It was dark, with poor lighting.”

  “It still doesn’t prove anything,” Walling said. “You’re chasing ghosts.”

  Valdez exhaled and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, ghosts are the only thing we have on this case. I believe what I’ve indicated merits taking another look at all the Angel’s past cases, see if anything was missed.”

  “I’m not going to waste my time.”

  Hyland shot daggers at the arrogant profiler. “I agree with Ms. Valdez that it doesn’t hurt to take another look at the evidence from past cases.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Valdez said, her gaze moving around the room. “I think it’s time that we put all the cards on the table and consider all possibilities.”

  “I have no problem with that,” Hyland said. “What’s on your mind?”

  Valdez folded her arms and addressed the gathering. “A case that has gone unsolved for this period of time raises another possibility.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

  “I believe that our suspect is very much in tune with the law enforcement response to his crimes. That was proved tonight by him leaving the photograph of Agent Collins’ daughter at his crime scene. It could be that the Angel either has a connection to law enforcement or is getting inside information on our case.”

  Eva Valdez’s suggestion turned into a lengthy discussion that, at times, became an argument. After several agents took exception to what the profiler had said, Agent Hyland told the gathering he thought it was extremely unlikely anyone in law enforcement had compromised the investigation. Nevertheless, the new head of our taskforce agreed to keep an open mind, telling us that until the Angel was caught, all possibilities were on the table. We then spent the rest of the day dividing up cases and looking for anything in the prior investigations that might have been missed.

  Due to our exhaustion and lack of progress, Hyland allowed us to end our day early. As we were leaving the conference room, Olivia and I were invited by Hayden Kinnear to join him for an early dinner. We were both exhausted and considered passing on the offer, but learned that Kinnear had also invited Eva Valdez. The prospect of hearing what the renowned profiler had to say changed our minds.

  We ended up at a small seafood restaurant, in the town of Quantico, that overlooked the Potomac River where, over drinks, Eva told us about her background. “I was an Army brat, who ended up following in my father’s footsteps and joining up. I did two tours in Iraq before settling in Miami in 2005. I spent ten years with the police department there, six of those in Homicide, before I decided to work cases privately and write about them.”

  “Are you hired by departments to look into their unsolved cases?” Kinnear asked. The profiler had changed into slacks and an open collar blue shirt. His tussled hair and strong, even features made me again think he could have had a career in the movies.

  “Sometimes,” Eva said, “but I also work with families that are looking for children who have gone missing.”

  “That’s tough duty,” Olivia said. “There’s nothing I’ve encountered in police work that’s more emotionally draining.”

  “Yes, but I feel it’s my calling, since my sister was murdered when I was overseas.”

  I could tell that what she’d said connected with Olivia and the death of her own sister as she asked, “Can you tell us what happened to her?”

  “A boy she’d dated in high school became obsessed with her a couple of years after she graduated. He began stalking her and attempted to rape her one night. When she fought back, he stabbed her to death.” She swirled the wine in her glass and sighed. “It’s hard to believe she’s been gone fourteen years now.”

  “And the perpetrator?” I asked.

  “He’s on death row, going through the appeals process.” A weak smile formed on her lips. “I plan to be present for his execution, whenever that eventually happens.”

  Eva asked us to share our backgrounds. Kinnear went first, surprising us by telling us that he’d been the lead singer in a rock band several years ago before joining the police force. “One day I woke up in a motel room, not sure what city I was in, and decided it wasn’t the life for me. A PhD in psychology, a lot of years working with different police departments, most of those with NYPD, and here I am.”

  “I’m having trouble seeing you as a Mick Jagger type, prancing around the stage,” I said, chuckling and feeling the effects of my wine.

  He smiled. “Tell you what, if we find the Angel, I’ll show you the video.”

  “That’s a deal.”

  “What about you and Olivia?” Eva asked. “I heard you were both there when the recent bombings in Los Angeles happened.”

  After ordering our food, Olivia and I spent the better part of a half hour filling them in on our backgrounds, including my history with the Rylands and the Swarm. After the discussion, I said, “The truth is, I think we were sent out of town both to get us out of the line of fire and because we’re not in favor with the new police chief.”

  “It sounds like politics is taking precedence over competency,” Eva said. “Unfortunately, it’s pretty common when it comes to policing these days.”

  We continued to chat and drink until our food arrived. As we ate, Olivia and I asked Eva for any other thoughts she had on the Angel.

  “I’ve got a theory,” she said, glancing at Kinnear. “Other profilers might think I’m crazy, but if you’ll all keep this just between us, I’ll tell you about it.”

  Kinnear smiled. “If you promise to keep my secret about being a rock star, I’ll keep yours.”

  Eva smiled. “Deal.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts, then said, “I think the Angel is the rarest combination of killers there is. He’s acting from a need for both power and domination, but he’s also a visionary, taking orders from someone else.”

  “Be careful,” Kinnear said. “You’re starting to sound like Professor Walling.”

  She’d apparently already had her fill of the blowhard. “If that’s the cas
e, just shoot me now.” She sipped her wine, then went on. “What I’m trying to say is that I think this series of killings is far more complex than we realize. The Angel has more than one motivation, and, as I said at today’s meeting, I don’t believe he’s acting alone.”

  “He’s using a female?” Olivia said.

  “Or she’s using him.”

  “Why do you think the other party is a female?” I asked.

  “The eyewitness reports of there being a female near the two crime scenes that I mentioned today, and maybe just a hunch. I also believe our suspect is acting out of extreme rage. That rage is probably directed and controlled by a woman, someone who has complete power over him.”

  “You mean like a lover?”

  “Possibly. It’s someone that he worships and allows to dominate him. She’s the alpha in the relationship, the dominant partner, while the Angel is the beta, her submissive.”

  Eva went on for a few minutes, telling us more about her theory. I had no idea if she was right about the Angel working with a female partner, but she made a good case for what she suspected. She was bright, articulate, and experienced when it came to the subject of serial killings, a rare combination.

  We’d just finished eating when I got a call from my brother. I excused myself, left the table, and answered. “How are things, little brother?”

  “They could be better,” Robin said. “Mom’s in the hospital. They think she had a stroke.”

  EIGHT

  After telling Agent Hyland that I had a family medical emergency, he was kind enough to allow me to fly home on the FBI’s chartered jet. All I knew about my mother’s condition was that she was at UCLA Medical Center, where they were running tests. Robin said he would meet me at the airport and take me directly to the hospital as soon as I got in.

  I fell asleep on the plane, only because I was exhausted from my earlier trip and the long day and night we’d had working the Angel’s crime scene. I felt conflicted about leaving the taskforce, but knew I had no other choice. Family came first, regardless of how dysfunctional that family might be.

  My mother and I had lots of prior issues, mainly over her never telling me that I was adopted. I’d subsequently found out about my adoptive father being killed at the hands of Ryan Cooper, someone who worked for Harlan Ryland and his partner, only after doing lots of investigating on my own.

  Part of my investigation had disclosed that my mother and Cooper had been in a relationship after her marriage to my adoptive father had gone south, something that I wasn’t sure I could ever get past. To make matters more complicated, I’d recently learned that my father had a child out of wedlock when he was a teenager, something else that my mother had failed to disclose.

  All this was backdrop to me trying to find my biological father. All I knew about him was that he’d been married to Judie Crawford, my bio-mom and a one-time actress, who had married Ryan Cooper before she was battered to death by him.

  Cooper’s daughter, Lindsay, my half-sister, had later murdered him when he had stalked me. She was now in a witness protection program after going undercover to try to take down members of the Swarm. My adoptive mom insisted that she had no idea who my biological father was, something that I wasn’t entirely convinced of.

  In recent weeks, Pearl Kramer, a former detective my adoptive father had once worked with, had gone to Brazil, trying to get the truth behind what happened to my biological father. Pearl had subsequently gone missing, although Joe Dawson had been in touch with federal authorities looking into the matter and thought he might have left that country by boat. I prayed that was true because I was beginning to think that Pearl was the only chance I had to get to the truth about the identity of my bio-dad.

  Despite my feelings of betrayal and uncertainty, I tried to push everything down when my brother met me at the airport a little after one in the morning. Robin was younger than me, with short brown hair and blue eyes. He was in his late twenties and gay, in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend Adam.

  “How was the flight?” he asked, as we pulled away from the terminal.

  “I caught a couple hours sleep since I was busy working a case and didn’t get much rest the night before last.”

  “The Angel?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s all over TV and the Internet, and I saw you on one of the news clips. I heard about the murder being streamed, but refused to watch what he did.”

  “A smart decision. It was pretty gruesome.” I changed the subject, asking about Mom.

  “When I left her last night, she was resting comfortably.”

  “That’s good.”

  When I didn’t go on, he glanced at me and said, “You doing okay?”

  I dragged a hand through my hair and met his eyes. “Just feeling conflicted. As you know, Mom and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently.”

  “Any word on Daniel?”

  Daniel was the son my adoptive father had out of wedlock when he was a teenager. Dad had left several million dollars in an offshore bank account that I’d recently learned about. Daniel had withdrawn it all, claiming he was the only heir. From what my friend Molly at work had found out about him, he’d somehow squandered the fortune and was now living on the streets.

  “Nothing, other than Molly finding out that he’s homeless.”

  “Do you think Mom knows something about him that she’s not saying?”

  “I don’t want to believe that, but given her track record...” I exhaled. “...anything’s possible.”

  He nodded and found my eyes again when traffic slowed. “Maybe...if she’s doing okay, at some point, you can ask her about him.”

  “Maybe...but I’ve already talked to her and didn’t get much.”

  “I was just thinking that, if she gets through this, maybe she’ll be more receptive.”

  I nodded, but didn’t say anything. We rode in silence for a few minutes before I asked him about Adam.

  “We’re good. We’ve even talked about taking things to the next level.”

  “You mean marriage?”

  “Engagement.” Traffic slowed again and he looked at me. “The only thing is, Adam wants children.” He took a breath. “I’m just not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Maybe, in time, you’ll sort out your feelings.”

  “You ever think about having kids?”

  I chuckled. “I would want to be married first, and there are no prospects on the horizon.”

  “Natalie and Mo said something about maybe you and Joe getting together.”

  I laughed again. “Those two should be called the ‘meddling matchmakers’. Joe and I are just friends, and I plan to keep it that way.”

  He held on my eyes for a moment, as traffic came to a stop.

  “What?” I said.

  “I have a feeling one of these days you’re going to be married and have four kids.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The chances of that are about the same as there being a snowstorm in July in Hollywood.”

  Traffic moved again, and he smiled. “I’ve heard that climate change can cause some strange weather patterns.”

  When we got to the hospital, the nurse on Mother’s floor told us that Mom was sleeping, but said we could go in and check on her. “The doctor will be making his rounds in the morning, but you can take a few minutes with her.”

  “What’s her prognosis?” I asked.

  “We’re still running tests. We should know something more tomorrow.”

  I wasn’t prepared for the machines and tubes hooked up to Mom when Robin and I got to her room. She looked small and fragile in her hospital bed, and I found myself tearing up. I held on to Robin’s arm for emotional support, before walking over.

  Robin stood beside me, with a hand on my shoulder, as I took Mom’s hand in mine and whispered. “It’s Kate. I’m here for you, Mom.”

  I was surprised when her eyes fluttered open. “Kaaatteee...” she said, slurring her words.
>
  I brushed a tear and leaned closer. “Love you, Mom. You’re going to be okay.”

  Robin and I spent the next few minutes with Mom as she regained consciousness a couple times, before drifting off to sleep again. When her eyes remained closed, I went over and got my purse off a dresser. Then I heard her say, “Dan...nniel...”

  I glanced at Robin and walked back over to her. “What about him?”

  There was a shallow breath, and several more seconds ticked by. She said, “His...mother...”

  I wasn’t sure if she was talking about Daniel’s biological mother, or his adoptive mother. When she didn’t go on, I said, “What are you trying to tell me, Mom?”

  Her eyes fluttered open, then shut again. I asked her about Daniel a second time before the nurse came into the room and said the doctor would be in shortly.

  “She needs her rest now,” the nurse said. “You can check back with her later.”

  ***

  “I think Mom feels guilty about never telling us about Daniel and tried to make up for that by finding his mom,” Robin said as he drove me home.

  I nodded and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “I wonder if she’s living in this area—his mother, I mean.”

  “You think she was talking about his bio-mom?”

  I sighed. “I’m not sure, but the records on her would likely be sealed, so I think she probably meant his adoptive mother.” I took a breath. “It seems strange that her first words to me were about Daniel.”

  Robin smiled. “In case you’ve never noticed, our mother is pretty strange.”

  I forced a smile. “I have noticed.”

  A few minutes later, Robin pulled to the curb in front of my house and helped me with my bags. He hugged me and said, “I’ll let you get some sleep. Give me a call when you get up, and I’ll meet you back at the hospital.”

  I kissed his cheek. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  Since it was after two in the morning, I planned to go quietly up to my bedroom and get in bed, but Bernie had other ideas. My big dog apparently sensed I was home and came bounding down the stairs, giving me lots of sloppy wet kisses, not to mention a few yelps of joy.