Strong, Sleek and Sinful

by Lorie O'Clare

  No matter what her mother said, Kylie didn’t believe she was living on autopilot, simply rehashing the same crime in her mind over and over again, determined to replay it until finally she saved every teenage girl out there. Kylie knew she wasn’t Superwoman. She knew girls would be sexually molested, tortured, and killed no matter how hard she worked. But she was good at what she did, very good. If she wasn’t, the Bureau wouldn’t continually assign her to every sexual predator case when local authorities contacted the FBI for help, or when the agency determined a case merited their intervention.

  For a moment she felt her mother’s arms around her, hugging her goodbye before she’d headed back up here from Dallas. Her mother was so much smaller, almost frail. Kylie had held her for several minutes, feeling the warmth and the love. And in spite of not agreeing with everything she said, Kylie had promised to visit again as soon as possible. She meant it, too. This weekend had reminded her that her family wouldn’t be around forever. Someday she would have to cope with losing more family members, and she wanted to spend every minute she could spare enjoying time with both of her parents before that day happened.

  “Kylie, good, you’re here.” John Athey ran his fingers down his tie as he stood, walking around the table and extending his hand to Kylie when she paused in the doorway to the briefing room. He patted her arm, a fatherly gesture, instead of shaking her hand.

  “I hope I’m not late.” She knew she wasn’t although there were already several men sitting around the rectangular table in the meeting room. “There was construction all along the highway this morning.”

  “This town is always like that,” John said. “And no, you aren’t late at all. Let me introduce you. You already know Paul, of course.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at Paul, who nursed a hot cup of coffee.

  “This is the chief of police for Mission Hills. Murphy Radisson, this is Special Agent Kylie Donovan. While here, she’s working undercover as ‘Kylie Dover.’ ”

  The chief of police was a large man, who stood slowly from the other side of the table and extended his hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Ms. Donovan,” he said in a deep voice.

  Kylie took his hand, feeling his warm, strong calloused fingers grip hers in a firm handshake. “Please, call me Kylie,” she insisted. “And it’s good to meet you, too, Chief Radisson. I look forward to discussing this case with you.”

  “Which is why we’re here,” John said.

  “Call me Rad,” the Chief said, playing old school and sitting when Kylie did. He placed his hands, palms down, on two stacks of manila file folders. “And I appreciate your coming to Kansas City to help us out on this case, Kylie.” He turned his attention to Paul and John. “I’ve gathered additional information since I first sent over what we had so far on this case.”

  His knuckles were large and he didn’t wear a wedding ring. There wasn’t even an indentation where a ring usually would be. He was either a confirmed bachelor or too much of a man to be bothered with such trivial jewelry as a band on his finger to confirm his love to one woman. Kylie would put him somewhere around fifty, in good shape, although a bit weathered around the edges. She wondered what his opinion of Perry was, and mulled over whether or not to bring up meeting with his nieces and having them, as well as him, over to her house for pizza last Friday.

  She would hear the Chief out and then decide what information she would offer. Getting comfortable in her seat, she pulled her notebook out and opened it. The first thing that caught her eye in her scribbled notes was the block letters PETETAKESU. He’d been silent all weekend, which meant he was either on the prowl or unable to use a computer without getting caught over the weekend.

  “We’re concerned with the information we have so far that our perp might be a city employee,” Paul began, speaking up as he put down his coffee cup. He opened the laptop in front of him and stared at it while continuing to talk. “More to the point, we could be looking at our perp being one of your cops.”

  Rad’s expression hardened and he looked angry enough to attack, but when he spoke his tone was as calm as it had been a moment ago during introductions. “I checked out each of my officers over the weekend. I got a look at most of their computers and several of them were chatting on them when I stopped by. Which doesn’t prove shit.”

  “It shows you’re willing to cooperate,” Kylie said, reassuring him.

  “We’ve got several ISPs,” Paul said slowly. “The alleged boy that Olivia Brown and Sally Wright were chatting with online used different computers at different times during their chats. None of them were home computers, and most were public computers. But with Olivia Brown,” he continued, and then paused, tapping keys on his laptop and then looking back up wide-eyed, excitement making his eyes bright. “On two different days Peter uses a computer that is located inside your police station.”

  “When? What days?” Rad snapped.

  Paul looked down at his laptop. “March third, ten thirty A.M. He spoke to her on her cell phone. We’ve got a specific address on the computer that sent the messages to Brown.” Paul jotted something down on a piece of notepaper and then slid it across the table to the Chief. “Confirm with your own IT department. Here’s the IP address.”

  Kylie saw the numbers scribbled on the piece of paper and an uncomfortable knot tightened in her gut. “How strict are you on your officers only using their own computers?”

  “Not everyone has their own computer,” Rad said, staring at the paper as if he could decipher the numbers and determine which computer it was in his department. “But we’re going to implement policy effective immediately stating no one can use anyone’s computer without my personal consent.”

  “Where were the other computers located?” Kylie asked Paul.

  “We’ve got documented online chats dating back to last October,” Paul said, making eye contact with each of them and then resting his intense gaze on Kylie. “He used the library, several different coffee shops, and a few bookstores.” Paul pushed a few more keys on his laptop and then pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll give you a printout so you’ll have potential locations. But since our guy isn’t using the same computer twice, it’s like trying to track a guy who is using a pay phone. We don’t know where he’s going to be next.”

  Paul stood and left the room. When he returned he gave Kylie a printout of different businesses. Most were places she hadn’t been to yet, but then she’d focused on the teenage hangouts so far. Unlike other sexual predators she’d hunted down in previous cases, apparently this perp didn’t care where his prey hung out. He focused on public locations with semi-private computers to hunt for his next victim.

  “Check out those locations,” John told Kylie, and tapped his ballpoint pen against his legal pad. He glanced at her over his glasses, the top button of his white shirt undone and his tie loose and slightly crooked. He made it look as if it were Friday afternoon instead of Monday morning. “You have anything for us so far?”

  Everyone watched while her gaze dropped to the bold letters in her notebook—PETETAKESU. “I’ve spent this past week in the shopping malls, the bowling alley, and a few other local hangouts,” she began, not looking up. Something told her not to let go of the screen name she’d made contact with. She didn’t like the knot that tightened in her gut, but years of working case after case had taught her to pay attention to her physical reactions to her surroundings, even when she didn’t understand the message. “My focus has been where these kids spend their time socializing and I’ve gotten to know a few of them already.”

  “Who have you gotten to know?” Rad asked.

  “Just a handful of kids.” She decided to be evasive. “I’m using the cover of being a cultural anthropologist working on my master’s and doing a thesis on teenage interaction.”

  The others nodded, obviously satisfied with her story. Each of them played their own part in capturing this guy and Kylie knew none of them cared about details from her, unless it
was about a bust.

  “It’s shocking as hell how easily they will give you their online screen names,” she added, deciding to show them she’d accomplished something this past week.

  “Not really,” Rad said. He focused on her with gray eyes that seemed to be searching, trying to learn as much as possible about her. His focus wasn’t leery, but at the same time she saw little trust. He was the typical jaded cop, years on the force making it impossible for him to accept anyone for who they were without analyzing them first. “Kids these days live on computers. It’s becoming incredibly common, and the accepted norm, for people, not just children, to meet online and start dating. Smoke-filled bars that once were meat markets are becoming a thing of the past.”

  “And good riddance,” she said, smiling easily at him. Then inching her chair backward, she glanced over at John. “We don’t have a clue what Peter looks like, do we?”

  “The girl who went to meet the boy who was supposed to be from Topeka,” Rad began, and looked down at one of the files he’d spread out in front of him while blowing out a breath. He ran thick fingers over closely shaved gray hair and didn’t look up when he continued speaking. “Sally Wright, that was her name. Her father, Charles Wright, reported seeing a Caucasian male get out of a car and then jump back into it when he approached his daughter.”

  “I saw that,” Kylie said. “But he couldn’t give a solid ID. We don’t know what he was driving?”

  “Nope.” Rad raised his gaze to her, his brow wrinkling, giving his face the look of a bulldog. “That’s all we’ve got so far.”

  Kylie nodded. It was nothing to go on. Pushing her chair back farther, she gathered her notes and shoved them into her briefcase.

  “Well, I’ve got a job to do,” she said, anxious to get out of there.

  “Keep me posted daily on what you do,” John told her.

  She didn’t answer to him, but it was a courtesy she was expected to give the local agency. Nodding once, “Of course,” she said, as she lifted her strap to her briefcase over her shoulder and headed toward the door.

  “And Kylie,” John said. “Remember, until we narrow this down further, you can’t rely on the cops in the area.”

  She noticed Rad’s expression tighten, his face pinch with aggravation, but he didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything worse than the possibility of someone close to you, or an individual whom you’ve trusted over the years, turning out to be a criminal. And a child molester—the worse kind.

  “Got it,” she said, and headed out the door.

  Stopping at the first Starbucks she spotted, she spent time on her computer using MapQuest to locate each of the businesses her perp used. Mission Hills wasn’t a big town, although it ran into other suburbs surrounding Kansas City. Sitting in her car, sipping on her coffee, she used her wireless printer from her trunk and quickly printed directions to help her around town. Today she wouldn’t play the teenage scene but would instead focus on every location with public computers, starting with the ones their perp had already used. Something told her she wasn’t dealing with an idiot. She was probably miles behind her guy and she seriously doubted he’d retrace his steps. But this guy had several months on her if he was responsible for the deaths of all the girls she had files on. His level of comfort would be pretty high right now. Quite possibly, if he had found a comfortable location and was content with the knowledge that he wasn’t being tracked, he would use a computer more than once to set up a meeting with his next prey. If she was lucky, his next “victim” would be her.

  Her cell phone rang as she pulled into the parking lot of a locally owned bookstore and coffeehouse. She parked, focusing on the squad car idling along the curb by the entrance, as she answered her phone.

  “Hello,” she said, adjusting her earpiece and then taking in the busy-looking bookstore.

  “Peter struck again.”

  “Huh?” She looked down at the number on her phone.

  “It’s Paul. Don’t even try to keep up with all of the numbers down here,” he said, as if he could see what she was doing at that moment. Computer geeks made her nervous. For all she knew, he very well could see what she was doing. “PD just got a call in at Raney’s. It’s three blocks north of you.”

  “You can see me,” she accused, and glared at the navigator on her dash that stared ominously back at her with its one blank eye. “What’s the call?”

  “A fifteen-year-old female,” he began.

  Kylie looked up when Perry hurried around the squad car and got in on the driver’s side. Another man climbed in on the passenger side and the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Apparently a Raney’s employee found her when he was collapsing boxes in the Dumpster.”

  “Found her?” Kylie’s stomach twisted.

  Perry drove past her, pinning her with a possessive stare that he held her with until he was forced to look ahead and focus on his driving. Chills rushed over her at the same time that a sickening sensation grew in her gut.

  “Yup. Police are arriving on the scene now. I’ll have a name here in a few moments.”

  Kylie pondered continuing with her project of checking out the locations on her list or heading over to Raney’s.

  “Raney’s is a grocery store?” she confirmed, pretty sure that was the name of the store she’d driven past a few times since she’d been here.

  “Yup. It’s at Sixty-second and Indian Lane. I’ll have more details for you here in a few.” He barely paused before adding, “You’re practically across the street right now.”

  “I’m going to check out this bookstore first. Maybe our Peter enjoys watching his victims being discovered,” she added. “Then I’ll head over and check out the crime scene.”

  “Are you going to let the cops see you?” Paul asked.

  Kylie wouldn’t ask him if he had watched Perry and her in her house last week. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. “I’ll wait and see how much of a crowd of spectators forms around the scene. Call me back when you have more info.”

  There were three public computers inside the bookstore and no one was on any of them. After spending a few minutes browsing on the side of the store where windows offered her a view of the grocery store across the street, and taking in the other customers in the store, Kylie decided Peter probably wasn’t in the store. The only guy there worked behind the counter and didn’t pay any attention to the police cars that entered the busy parking lot across the street. She didn’t rule out the possibility that Peter could be a woman, but the two customers in the store were intent on browsing through books. Kylie nodded at the salesclerk, who gave her a half-interested nod in return, then headed back to her car.

  It wasn’t the first time Kylie had worked under distracted circumstances. Paul hadn’t called back, and Perry’s intense look was burned into her mind. Evidence was mounting in favor of a cop being Peter. She wanted those ISPs confirmed and fingered her phone inside her purse when she slid into her car. What if Perry was Peter?

  Perry’s obsessive nature, his dominant behavior, and the way he was intent on knowing what she was doing would be justified if he believed she might be trailing him. But, if PETETAKESU was her perp, he’d talked to her online as Perry had knocked on her door.

  Dragging her fingers through her hair, she blew out an exasperated breath. “You’ll know soon enough,” she told herself, and headed out of the parking lot to the grocery store across the street.

  There were several cop cars, an ambulance, and obvious unmarked vehicles parked alongside the grocery store. A handful of civilians stood alongside the building as well, curiosity besting them as they watched the crime scene in action.

  She decided to call Paul instead of waiting for him to call her when she pulled into the busy grocery store parking lot. “Paul Hernandez, please,” she told the receptionist who answered. “This is Special Agent Kylie Dover,” she added, not wanting to be on hold long. “It’s important.”

  Paul snickered whe
n he came on the line. “It’s always important or you wouldn’t be calling me,” he said, a smile in his voice. “And I don’t have any more information for you.”

  “That’s cool. Let me know as soon as you do,” she told him as she parked in the middle of the parking lot in front of the grocery store, which was on a nice side of town. “I really want those ISPs confirmed at the police station. Any way you can take care of that and not wait for the Chief to get us the info?”

  “John has me working on another project, but I’ll see what I can do for you,” Paul said.

  “I appreciate it.” Kylie stared out her window at the scene in front of her.

  Yellow tape already secured off the crime scene on the back side of the building. From where she parked she could partially see the activity going on behind the store. But she didn’t see Perry or any other officers.

  “I’m at Raney’s.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “I didn’t want the Chief to know this morning, but last week I had a few teenagers over for pizza and plugged them for information on the cases. The girls’ uncle is Lieutenant Perry Flynn.”

  There was silence on the line only for a brief moment. “One of the cops here in town?” Paul guessed.

  “Yup.”

  “And the pizza party was purely business?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?” she snapped.

  “So, it wasn’t,” he decided, that damn smile still obvious in his jovial tone.

  “Hernandez,” she growled, getting out and leaning against her car as she studied the scene predominantly hidden by the brick and mortar building and emergency vehicles. “Teenage girls are disappearing and being murdered.”