Apocalypse Journeys (Book 2): Finding AJ

by Melrose, Russ

  Amanda Chandler, the Special Agent in Charge of the Las Vegas office, had joined them. She was in her fifties and wore a dark navy-blue suit over a white blouse accented with a burgundy-and-navy ascot tie. A pair of half-rimmed glasses sat perched a third of the way down her nose. Jules had met her when she first arrived in Vegas. Chandler was a tough no-nonsense agent, stern and dedicated.

  The five of them sat in a conference room. Beckerman sat at the head of the long rectangular table with Jules to his right and Stohl and Coleman to his left. Chandler sat next to Jules. She was there to observe.

  "I haven't added it to the online case file yet. I wanted to get some feedback first."

  Stohl pulled gold wire-framed reading glasses from the inside of his suit pocket and put them on. He used his forefinger and thumb on the outside edge of the frame to precisely adjust their position.

  Jules had sent each member of the task force a copy of her completed profile well before the meeting but held off on the "Tsao Killer" story. She sipped her coffee and waited for them to respond.

  "What is this?" Beckerman asked without looking up, his head still buried in the story.

  "It comes from a book about the history of Chinese calligraphy," Jules started, her voice bone-dry and evenly modulated. It was Jules' professional voice. She was excited about her discovery, but Jules was also skilled at sublimating her feelings in front of colleagues. She spoke clearly and concisely without embellishment. "The Tsao Killer story is in a chapter on myths and anecdotes, though that's not important. What's relevant here are the similarities between the Tsao killings and the Calligrapher killings. While not identical, the similarities are far too close to be coincidental. The placement of the calligraphy on the bodies, the style of calligraphy, and the use of cinnamon make it clear the Calligrapher is copycating the Tsao killer. I googled the Tsao killings in every way imaginable but found nothing on the internet outside of the book's listing on Amazon. So, unless he found it somewhere else, that means the Calligrapher had to have read this book before the killings began. It may give us a little more insight into who he is."

  "You could be right," Stohl said thoughtfully. "No question he's copycating. Not sure how this can help us to identify him though."

  Jules remained calm. "At the very least, it's a piece of the puzzle. He may have checked the book out from a library or purchased it online. The book comes in a hardback version and an eBook version. It might not lead us directly to him, but it could be an important piece of evidence once we've identified a legitimate suspect. Also, since he seems to have a real interest in calligraphy, there's a possibility he might subscribe to a calligraphy magazine. If so, we could crosscheck sexual assault felons with subscription lists."

  "This is good stuff," Coleman said. "Interesting."

  Beckerman kept reading. "Yes. Good find, Vandevelde. Tell us how you think it might help us in the investigation."

  "There's a real reverence toward the art of calligraphy in China. I believe there's a distinct possibility the Calligrapher shares that reverence. But I believe, for him, it's about more than the calligraphy. Once he's killed them, the victim's body becomes a canvas on which he can practice his art. The bodies are important to him, but only after they're dead.

  "The Calligrapher's art is all about honoring AJ—whoever AJ is. It's only after he's killed his victims that he treats the victims' bodies with great reverence. He cleans them up and practices his art on them. He poses them and they become shrines to AJ."

  "Bit of a leap isn't it?" Stohl asked. He spoke pedantically as if addressing a group of students. "We haven't established if AJ is actually a person. AJ could represent a concept or it could be a place. It could be the initials of the Calligrapher himself. AJ could virtually represent anything. I don't see any evidence that definitively indicates that AJ is a person. We've spent nearly two years trying to identify AJ. Murder victims, missing persons, criminals with a history of sexual assault. We've looked at everything and found nothing. So, calling the victims' bodies shrines to AJ, at this point, is premature at best."

  "When you piece together the evidence with what we know about the Calligrapher, it begins to tell a story."

  "Sounds as if you're reading tea leaves," Stohl said, an impish smile forming on his lips.

  Jules ignored Stohl's comment and turned to look at Beckerman. "I don't believe he knew his victims."

  "Why not?" Beckerman asked.

  "He picks his victims at random. The two previous victims were taken after they'd left college bars. Most likely in the parking lot since their cars were still there. But he's not selecting them based on who they are. Who they are is irrelevant. For the Calligrapher, it's about finding the right bodies to display his art and create his shrine. All three victims are young, college-aged brunettes with slender figures. He's looking for canvases, and he has a specific preference where bodies are concerned. That's all it is. For the Calligrapher, choosing a victim is impersonal."

  "Why Brunettes?" Beckerman asked.

  "Could be coincidental or there could be a connection with his first victim, Leslie Tompkins. He might be trying to relive his first kill." After a slight pause, she added. "We should also consider the possibility that AJ may have been his first victim. His preference with body types suggests two possibilities. He's looking for a specific type of canvas on which to practice his art, or he's trying to recreate his first kill. Possibly both. Either way, who they are as people doesn't factor into his selection of victims."

  "So, you don't think the victims knew their attacker?" Stohl asked.

  "It's unlikely all three victims spread out in three different states would know their attacker, and there's no known connection between the victims." Jules realized she'd spoken too rapidly as if she were being dismissive of Stohl's question.

  Stohl didn't seem to mind and pressed on. "I find it curious the bodies show no signs of struggle. How does he get close enough to them to administer chloroform?"

  Coleman spoke up. "He might not have come across as threatening. Maybe he was asking them for help. He could have seemed harmless. He could have gained their trust and then positioned himself to use the chloroform."

  Beckerman interrupted. "We can't really determine what happened in those parking lots. Not enough evidence. Let's move on to Vandevelde's profile. Vandevelde, go over the highlights."

  "Of course," Jules said. "As we know, the Calligrapher is a highly organized criminal. Likely a white male between twenty- five and forty-five years of age, living somewhere in the Southwest. The location of the needle marks indicates the unsub is right-handed. The angle of entry suggests he is approximately six foot tall. But the height might not be accurate if he injects them while they're prone, which I believe is likely. He's highly intelligent. He could have a college education. He's employed, likely white collar, something that requires travel and also requires a certain level of precision. He may feel underappreciated. Doesn't feel he gets the credit he deserves at his job.

  "His binding his victims suggests his need for control. The unsub appears to have a detailed understanding of crime scene investigation procedures. He knows how to eliminate trace evidence at his crime scenes. It's possible he could be a fan of law enforcement agencies. He may even have attempted to join a law enforcement agency at one time and been turned down.

  "He's patient and painstakingly careful. He chose bars with no outside cameras. There haven't been any witnesses. The crime scenes were carefully selected and meticulously prepped for his kill scene. No question, he likes to show off, likes to show us how smart he is. He's arrogant. That's why he calls the local police stations in the mornings after he's killed them and staged the scene. He wants us to see his handiwork. He can't wait for us to see what he's done.

  "He's a psychopath who will easily blend into the community he lives in. Since we don't know what city or state he lives in, identifying him is not going to be easy. The key to finding him will be in identifying AJ. I think there is a good chan
ce AJ are the initials of his first victim. It makes the most sense. In a way, he's challenging us. It's not likely the initials belong to him. That wouldn't be very smart, and it's obvious we're dealing with an intelligent person.

  "There's a possibility he's sexually impotent. That would explain why there are no signs of actual sexual intercourse with the victims. It might even be the motivation for his crimes. As a counterpoint, since the Calligrapher is scrupulous when it comes to not leaving evidence, he simply might not want to take the chance of leaving any DNA at the crime scenes. Either scenario is possible. But it's clear these are sexually motivated crimes. He's experiencing some kind of sexual release from the commission of his crimes.

  "It's also possible he may have a history of mutilating animals from his adolescent years."

  Jules paused to take questions.

  "So, you think he was a college student?" Stohl asked.

  "It's possible. He's shown an ability to learn challenging subjects. Learning Chinese calligraphy isn't a simple undertaking. And he understands the details of crime scene investigation. He's obviously a good student."

  "That makes some sense," Stohl conceded.

  Beckerman chimed in. "Since he seems to have a comprehensive understanding of crime scene procedure, could the Calligrapher be a member of law enforcement?"

  "Possibly," Jules answered.

  Amanda Chandler cleared her throat. "Agent Stohl floated an idea to me before the meeting, and I think it's worth discussing. What about a televised press conference asking the public for its assistance in identifying him. It's something we haven't used yet. We could release some details from his profile. Noah?"

  A sour look crossed Beckerman's face. "There's not much we could tell them. We don't know what he looks like, what he does. We don't really know anything about him. Might do more harm than good. We could end up chasing hundreds of bad leads."

  Chandler spied Beckerman from over the top of her glasses. "The idea of sexual impotence," she began. "Mightn't that elicit a response from him. As it stands, it would appear we're nowhere with this case. I'm starting to catch some heat from Quantico. They want to see progress. Maybe if we poked him, he might come out from hiding."

  Stohl added his two cents. "We could have Agent Vandevelde present the profile at a press conference. Having a female refer to him as sexually impotent in front of television cameras should elicit a response from him. If he is sexually impotent, he's likely to get angry. If he's not, he'll likely be upset at the suggestion that he is. Either way, his anger could cause him to make a mistake."

  "That's a bad idea. If we poked him, his response would likely be another dead body. And if Agent Vandevelde goes in front of a bunch of television cameras and suggests the Calligrapher is sexually impotent, she could easily become a target. She's here as an analyst, not a field agent."

  "Yes. But I believe she was a field agent for over six years before she became a behavioral analyst. And she did mention she worked the Billy Anderson serial in Cleveland. Isn't that right?"

  Stohl looked to Jules for confirmation. "Yes. I worked the Billy Anderson serial."

  Jules morphed into her best poker face. She didn't want to give herself away. She knew the press conference was a bad idea.

  Beckerman looked directly at Chandler. "For the time being, we need to focus on the St. George case. The St. George incident is fresh. We need to see if anything comes of it."

  Chandler gave Beckerman a long look. "All right, Noah. You're the lead. We'll focus on St. George for now."

  Beckerman turned to Coleman. "Any progress on the identification of the victim?"

  "Yes. I talked to Chief Gunderson this morning. He thinks they may have identified the victim. They've asked a college roommate to come in and identify the body. He also said they have a person of interest they're trying to track down. He was seen talking to the victim in a bar before she left."

  "Good. So there's something to go on. Coleman, keep in touch with Chief Gunderson. Anything breaks, you let me know. Let's wrap this up. I have to brief the task force in ten minutes. We can keep the press conference briefing idea on the back burner for the moment.

  "Vandevelde, after the briefing, you'll accompany me to Kingman, Arizona. We have a suspect to interview down there. Name's Andrew Glickman."

  *****

  Beckerman pulled into a Denny's in Henderson. "I could use some coffee," he said.

  They were returning from Glickman's.

  "Fine," Jules said.

  Beckerman ordered a coffee, black, along with a late breakfast—scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Jules ordered coffee with cream and asked for a BLT.

  "Go ahead, Vandevelde," Beckerman said, smiling good- naturedly. "Say what you want to say. You've been champing at the bit since we left."

  "All right," Jules said. "I'm wondering why we were interviewing Glickman. What was the point?" She made no attempt to hide her irritation. "Glickman isn't a legitimate Calligrapher suspect. I know it and you know it."

  Beckerman smiled. "You're right. Truth is, I wanted to see you work. Seeing you work, Vandevelde, gives me a feel for what you can do and how I might be able to best utilize you. For instance, I believe you have a real knack for interviewing suspects.

  "And besides, Henry thinks Glickman's a possibility."

  "We're here because of Agent Stohl?"

  The waitress set their coffees down.

  "Look Vandevelde, from time to time, you have to throw a dog a bone."

  Jules smiled.

  "Don't get me wrong. Henry's a good agent. But he's by-the-books all the way. As far as being an investigator, Henry walks in a straight line. He never would have found that story on the Chinese serial killer. That's why you're here. I need an out-of-the-box thinker on this case. Gerald O'Connell back in Cleveland clued me in on you." Beckerman paused for a moment and smiled. "He may have also mentioned something about your being a bit of a bulldog."

  O'Connell had been Jules' boss in Cleveland.

  Jules sipped her coffee. It was day-old bitter and she winced. At least now she knew why Beckerman had specifically asked for her.

  The waitress brought them their meals and smiled.

  "Agent Stohl seems to have a problem with me," Jules confided.

  "Yes. I know. You're what, Vandevelde? Thirty-one? Henry is closing in on forty. Don't know if you're aware, but he's on loan to us from ViCAP. Let me spell it out for you. Henry's ambitious. He's trying to create a diverse background in the bureau. That's why he wants in on the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He's applied twice. Been turned down both times. You were accepted first time around. You see his problem with you now?"

  Jules nodded.

  "You're handling yourself well so far, Vandevelde. Keep it up. But a word of caution. Agent Stohl is a political animal. You never know, one day, he might be running everything. He's not someone you want as an enemy. Ignore him, placate him, whatever you have to do."

  "All right. I will."

  Jules watched Beckerman as he started in on his scrambled eggs. Noah Beckerman was as comfortable in his own skin as anyone Jules had ever met. Minus the cigarettes, he was what her stepfather used to refer to as a Marlboro Man. If you took Beckerman out of his rumpled suit, gave him a Stetson along with a pair of Levi's jeans and a pair of boots, he'd fit the bill perfectly. Jules remembered checking out the Marlboro Man on YouTube as a teen. Beckerman had the same rough-hewn wizened face and cleft chin, and the same look of jaded wisdom. With his rugged looks and straightforward style, Noah Beckerman also reminded Jules of her stepfather.

  The toast on Jules' BLT was thin and crisply overdone. She took a bite and grimaced and set it back down on her plate.

  Beckerman's phone rang, and he fished it out of the inside pocket of his suit. "Beckerman," he answered.

  He listened for a minute. "Okay. Make sure they hold him as a material witness till we get there. Get the copter ready. We'll be there in fifteen."

  Beckerman called the wait
ress over and asked for the check. He turned and smiled at Jules. "We have a suspect. Name's George Albrecht. And they've identified the victim. Her name is Natalie Jensen.

  Chapter 10

  Natalie Jensen

  He sat in the van and hummed a Tim McGraw song to himself—Highway Don't Care, Taylor Swift accompanying. The song was his personal earworm, popping into his head at odd times, often on nights like this. According to the lyrics, Tim couldn't live without the love of his life. He was in mourning and wasn't shy about letting you know. She'd taken off on some highway leading who knows where. The narrative made it seem as if the highway were in competition for the affections of Tim's lost love. Poor Tim. Another sad country song.

  Still, he couldn't get the song out of his head.

  Though it was past ten, the van was stuffy and hot. Despite the stifling heat, he kept the windows rolled up. It wouldn't have made much difference anyway—the night air offered little respite from the desert heat.

  But he didn't mind the heat. He felt cool as a cucumber.

  McGinty's bar was perfect. There was only a small light above the front door. Other than that, the parking lot was dark and shadowy. No outside security cameras either. As for the lot, it was hardened earth rather than asphalt. It would make it easy for him to move quietly.

  He would be patient.

  He learned patience from hunting. Hunting had taught him many things—to be acutely aware of his surroundings, to remain perfectly still, to blend into one's surroundings, and to be patient and wait. The moment would come. It always did. But the moment would have to be just right. If it wasn't, he could wait. It didn't have to be tonight.

  But it was.

  He'd only been there fifteen minutes when she pulled into the parking lot. He cleared his mind of Tim McGraw and studied the woman closely. He leaned forward to get a better look. He didn't worry about being spotted. The tinted windows provided him anonymity.