by SJD Peterson
“This guy is like no other psycho I have studied. I mean, sure, he’s narcissistic as hell, but it’s almost like he has the right to be. He’s far superior in intelligence. He doesn’t make mistakes, ever. Even his first kill… umm….” Noah drummed his fingers against the table as he searched for the name, and then snapped them when it hit him. “Jared Martin. The cops royally fucked up that case, but I’ve seen the autopsy report and the crime scene photos. This guy is good.”
“I have to say, Mr. Walker. I am quite impressed.”
“Thank you,” Noah said with pride. “And you can call me Noah.”
“Okay, Noah,” Hutch commented while rubbing his hand over his stubbled jaw. “Any suspects?”
“Nope.” Noah sat back in his chair, looking expectant.
“Not a single one? You’ve obviously been doing your research, certainly someone looks suspicious.” Hutch looked at Noah pointedly.
“You have a suspect? Care to share?” Noah asked excitedly.
“Now who is insulting whose intelligence? You don’t actually think I’d share that info with you?”
“One could hope,” Noah mumbled.
“Nor would I take you off my suspect list based solely on your denial,” Hutch added.
“What? My denial? You think I’m a suspect? What do I have to do to convince you I didn’t do it?” Despite his earlier suspicions, Hutch was pretty sure Noah’s surprise was genuine.
“Prove it.”
Chapter 11
HUTCH’S INSTINCTS were telling him Noah wasn’t his man. He would have thought he’d have been more disappointed that his one suspect turned out to be a bust. As he sat across the table staring at Noah, however, he was anything but upset to find himself seemingly back at square one. Perhaps it was because Noah could be quite the asset in Hutch’s investigation, or maybe it was because he simply liked the man’s eagerness and easy smile. Noah reminded Hutch a lot of himself when he’d first entered the bureau. He’d been on a mission to rid the world of evilness, one criminal at a time. Damn, how time could jade a man.
“You know, I think I will have that cup of coffee,” Hutch announced as he went to his feet. “Can I get you anything, Noah?”
“I’ll have a cappuccino with a triple shot of espresso.” When Hutch raised his brow, Noah added, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Noah started to pull out his wallet, but Hutch waved him off. “I got it.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. Oh, and you might as well have your partner join us. It will save you from having to repeat everything,” Noah suggested.
“Right,” Hutch responded with a raised finger and a nod. “Be right back.”
Hutch made his way to the counter where a young girl smiled broadly at him. “Can I help you?”
“I’ll have a large black coffee and a cappuccino with a triple shot of espresso.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Triple espresso?” Granite commented as he stepped up next to Hutch. “That bad, huh?”
“Noah said he didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“And the reason?”
“I don’t think…. Hell, I can’t help but feel Noah is a dead end, but he may be useful.”
“Your feels are rarely wrong.”
“Yeah well, I’m not quite ready to completely dismiss him. Need to talk to him a bit more, see what Byte comes up with on him before I’ll be completely convinced. Oh, but he’s asked me to have you join us.” Hutch chuckled. “Didn’t want me to have to repeat myself.”
“Hmmm. Do you think he has anything worth listening to?”
“Noah already figured out there were fifteen murders attributed to our guy,” Hutch said, keeping his voice low so as not to be heard by anyone else in the shop. “He suspected a possible two or three more. He figured it out even before we did. So you tell me, you think he’s got something worth listening to?”
“Well, he’s either a hell of a smart man or he’s our killer. Better add another coffee to the order,” Granite instructed. “This may take a while.”
“You’re right. As long as the possibility is there, we’ll have to be careful what info we share with him. He needs to tell us what he knows.”
“Agreed.”
Hutch ordered Granite’s coffee and paid for all three. Handing Granite his, Hutch grabbed the other two and headed back to the table. “I think we should take this somewhere else,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“I agree. It’s a little crowded in here, and I’m getting a little uncomfortable with all the staring.”
“Well, if you’d wear something normal,” Hutch shot back.
He ignored the grunt of indignation from Granite and rejoined Noah at the table.
“Thanks,” Noah said and wrapped his hand around his cup.
“So, Hutch here tells me you’ve gotten a jump on us?” Granite said to Noah as he took the seat next to him.
“I did?” Noah said in apparent shock, eyes wide.
“Hey, in our defense we were only called in a little more than a week ago,” Hutch complained.
“Agent… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Noah inquired.
“Call me Granite.”
Noah smiled at Granite and then pulled off the lid to his coffee and took a drink. “I don’t understand why it took you guys so long to get called in on this case. Then again, I don’t understand why the hell these cases haven’t gotten more media attention.”
“I’m going to assume that it’s due to the fact that these cases were spread out over multiple jurisdictions,” Hutch interjected.
“And the fact that they don’t give a shit about dead homos,” Granite added as he watched Noah carefully.
Hutch picked up on the way Noah tightened his hands around his cup and his eyes shifted downward. Noah would never make a good poker player, his emotions obvious on his face as well as in his body language. Hutch also noticed how the large man at the next table with his back to them had scooched his chair closer and tilted his head slightly, as if he were trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“Noah, would you mind if we escort you back to your apartment? I’d like to pick your brain on a few delicate matters,” Hutch asked, continuing to watch the stranger at the next table. Interestingly, the man gathered up his belongings and left the minute Noah muttered “Sure.”
Hutch nudged Granite beneath the table and nodded toward the stranger.
“I’ll meet you two outside,” Granite announced, giving Hutch a curt nod in understanding and following the stranger out the door.
Hutch waited while Noah grabbed his coffee and retrieved his backpack from beneath his chair. “This has been a bit of an unorthodox interrogation,” Hutch admitted as he walked alongside Noah.
“I didn’t put two and two together when you first asked to talk. How come you didn’t detain me if I was a suspect?”
“I knew you weren’t going anywhere,” Hutch said. “Besides, I didn’t want you running scared or lawyering up.”
“You were following me?” Noah asked, stunned.
“Of course I was,” Hutch responded unapologetically as he held the door for Noah. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I hadn’t.”
“True. It’s just…. Wow, a suspect, huh? What made you think that?” Noah was obviously still reeling a little from their earlier conversation.
“You fit the profile, and you were spotted among the crowd at a number of the crime scenes.” They came to a halt outside the shop. “Do you have a car?”
“I what?” Noah squeaked. “I fit the profile? Jesus, I have to see this. Are you serious?”
Some of the color drained from Noah’s face, and for the first time, he looked truly panicked. Was it possible Hutch’s instinct was steering him wrong and Noah was in fact what he’d suspected originally? Maybe an accomplice?
Schooling his features, Hutch responded neutrally. “Yes, I’m quite serious. Car?”
Noah stared at him wide-eyed for a few
seconds longer and then seemed to catch what Hutch was asking. “No, I walked. Fit the profile, huh? I’m not sure I like the idea of fitting the profile of a deranged man.”
“We’ll take mine.” He led Noah toward his rental car. “And don’t let it upset you, it’s a pretty broad profile. I’m sure there are a number of men in the vicinity that would meet the criteria as well.”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Hutch remarked, keeping the conversation light and Noah unsuspecting until Hutch could get a better grasp on what he was feeling and either prove or disprove Noah’s involvement. Plus, Hutch was looking forward to comparing notes. Hutch walked a few steps before he realized Noah was no longer at his side. He turned to find him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, mouth gaping open and his cheeks a bright pink.
“You okay?”
“Umm… yeah… fine.” Noah gave himself an exaggerated shake and stepped up next to Hutch. He didn’t meet Hutch’s questioning gaze, instead muttering, “Sorry, I zoned out for a moment.”
Hutch let it go. He hit the button on his key fob and then opened the passenger side door for Noah. “Where’s your partner?” Noah asked as he slid into the car.
“He’ll be right back.” Hutch shut the door, then ran around the front of the sedan and took a seat behind the wheel.
“He does that a lot,” Noah muttered.
“Does what?” Hutch asked, scanning the area looking for Granite.
“Disappear.”
“Huh?” Hutch said distractedly. Maybe he should have gone with Granite or, better yet, left Granite with Noah and gone after the stranger. He tapped his fingers against the wheel, willing Granite to appear.
“Granite. He seems to disappear a lot.”
“He’s like that,” Hutch said vaguely. He sighed silently in relief when he spotted Granite coming around the corner, slipping his notebook in his pocket.
It wasn’t that Hutch questioned Granite’s abilities—he was a highly trained agent. However, it didn’t stop Hutch from worrying about both Granite and Byte when they were tracking a suspect. Hutch definitely had the worried dad syndrome going on, and he wasn’t even old enough to be a dad. Well, at least not theirs.
“Ready?” Hutch asked when Granite slid into the backseat.
“Yup. Got everything I needed.” Granite winked at Hutch in the rearview mirror and patted his pocket where he kept the notebook.
Hutch fired up the car and pulled onto the road.
“Where are we going?” Noah asked.
“Figured we’d head to your place.”
“Mine?” Noah squeaked, once again sounding panicked.
“Is there a problem?” Hutch asked him dubiously as he looked at Noah out of the corner of his eye.
“Um… well… my apartment is a mess. Um… you know, basic college kid. Totally a slob.” Noah was obviously trying to sound flippant, but Hutch could still hear the undertone of nervousness.
“I don’t mind a mess. I’ve been staying with Granite. You can’t be any more of a slob than he is,” Hutch assured him.
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Granite huffed.
“Well… I’m not sure,” Noah sputtered and fidgeted in his seat.
“Is there another reason we can’t go to your place? Hiding something?” Hutch accused.
“No, that’s not it,” Noah answered a little too quickly. He also wasn’t looking at either Hutch or Granite, instead staring out the side window.
Hutch didn’t press; instead he kept glancing at Noah as he maneuvered the busy streets heading toward Noah’s place. That was twice he had tried to keep them out of his apartment, and it only caused Hutch’s curiosity to increase. He’d made a few mistakes today, been a little lax in his normally stringent protocol. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice, and he would get inside Noah’s apartment.
Noah obviously realized where Hutch was heading as they pulled down the street where his apartment was located, and he sighed heavily. “Fine,” he remarked without turning from the window. “There’s no way I can hide it.”
Hutch’s gaze snapped up to the rearview mirror, meeting Granite’s stunned expression.
“Hide what?” Granite asked cautiously.
“You’ll see,” Noah muttered. “I just want you two to understand I am not insane. Although you may think so when you see my place,” he added with a shrug.
Hutch’s pulse was doing overtime when he pulled up in front of Noah’s place. He quickly caught up with Noah and walked next to him, Granite close behind, hand in his pocket, no doubt on his gun in response to Noah’s cryptic words and twitchy movements.
At Noah’s apartment door, he stilled with his hand on the knob. “Remember, I am far from insane,” he informed them and then shoved the door open, stepping back and allowing Hutch to enter.
Hutch swallowed down his gasp as he took in Noah’s apartment. Every square inch of wall space was covered in newspaper clippings, photos, maps, and reports. It looked much like the makeshift tack board they’d made on the walls of the hotel. However, this was extreme, evidence of not a few days but more likely years of work.
Ignoring the sound of the door closing, knowing Granite would have his back, Hutch slowly made his way along the walls, a feat easily accomplished considering the sparse amount of furniture in the room. He recognized many of the infamous cases—Night Stalker, Killer Clown, and Charles Manson—as well as some that were less publicized, such as Charles Jensen and Marcus Overton. The wall near the desk was dedicated to the most recent serial killer: the one Hutch was hunting.
“I can only imagine what you’re thinking,” Noah said, his voice tight as he stepped up next to Hutch.
“How long have you been collecting?” Hutch asked without taking his eyes from the horrific art.
“Since I was in junior high.”
“I was collecting girls’ phone numbers at that age,” Granite pointed out as he joined them. Hutch glanced at his partner, the shock evident in Granite’s features as he took in the display.
Although Hutch had an idea of why Noah had developed his obsession, given what had happened to Noah’s mother and sister, he wanted to hear Noah’s explanation. “What makes a young man pick up such a hobby?”
Noah stared at Hutch, unblinking, his features tight. When Hutch only continued to return the stare without flinching, Noah looked away. “I need a drink,” he commented. “Can I get either of you anything?”
“Yeah, you can answer my question,” Hutch demanded and followed Noah to the kitchen area.
“I’m going to give you a bit of advice. I don’t like being fucked with or treated like I’m an idiot, especially when I’m running on so little sleep,” Noah said angrily as he snatched the fridge door open and grabbed a bottle of water. He turned and glared at Hutch. “Are you going to tell me that you haven’t already done a full background check on me, Agent Hutchinson?”
“I’m not suggesting any such thing,” Hutch assured him. “However, I’ve dealt with many people who have lost loved ones to murder, and they rarely pick up such an odd hobby.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called it a hobby. This isn’t a fucking hobby,” Noah spat and stabbed a finger at the wall covered by the newest case. “This is a need to make some sense of the madness.”
Hutch knew exactly how Noah felt. He’d been doing the same thing for years. It wasn’t from a lack of trying, but he still hadn’t found any answers and suspected he never would. What he had learned was that people dealt with their grief in very different ways. Some fell into depression, drugs, self-destruction; others sought revenge. Some became incredibly passionate in their need for revenge and justice, stopping at nothing until the crime was avenged.
Unfortunately, there were those who allowed denied retribution to fester like a cancer, growing, eating at them until they lashed out and doled out their warped form of justice on the innocent. Hutch stared at Noah. Was that what Noah had
done? Allowed the brutal death of his family to turn cancerous and drive him toward playing judge, jury, and executioner?
Even as Hutch thought it, it didn’t settle right in his gut. If Noah was the killer, why would he target gay men? Why torture them? Hutch realized he needed more facts. “Noah,” Hutch said calmly. “Did they ever catch who killed your family?”
Noah closed his eyes. Absent was the anger Hutch expected to see mixed with the sadness that overcame Noah’s expression as he shook his head.
Chapter 12
NOAH SAT rigid, staring out the window without seeing the world beyond while he relived the nightmare he’d refused to think about in a very long time. He hadn’t intended to share his past with Hutch and Granite. When he opened the door to his painful memories a crack, however, they slammed into it, throwing it open fully and rushing from their hidden place.
“It was October 4, 1994. I was so excited to get home from school. Back then, I didn’t mind Mondays like I do now. However this particular Monday started out better than most. I had gotten a citizenship award and couldn’t wait to get home and show my mom. I tucked that little piece of paper with a big gold star on it in my coat to keep it from getting wet and ran the three blocks to my house. I had been too excited to be bothered with such insignificant things as an umbrella or putting up the hood on my jacket, so I was soaked by the time I rushed through the door.
“I slammed the door behind me and yelled out for my mom. The house was really quiet, but that wasn’t that unusual since Mom often lay in bed to watch her soap operas, and Katie, being a teenager, always hid in her room. She thought the rest of us were dumb.” Noah shook his head as he remembered how crazy she had been at times. “One minute Katie would be hugging me, wanting to help with my homework or work on my pitching, the next she’d be yelling and screaming at everyone like a crazy woman. Mom had explained it was a girl thing, and I remember thinking how lucky I was to be a boy.
“The award was a little wrinkled when I pulled it from my coat, but it was dry, and without taking the time to remove my wet shoes or dripping coat, I ran up the stairs. When I first entered Mom’s room, I had a hard time making sense of what I was seeing. I’d seen my mom naked before when I accidently walked in on her in the bathroom, but this was different. She was lying on the bed, her legs spread and her hands above her head. She didn’t jump and yell at me to shut the door this time, she just laid there, and at first I thought she was sleeping. I turned around, my cheeks hot, and yelled at her to wake up.
