There was no reason to do away with the girls so quickly. Why not enjoy them for as long as possible. He could give them water, no one would need know about that. Feeding them presented a problem, then the issue of waste came into play, something he had no desire to deal with, in any form. The human body could survive with no food for several weeks, so he could at least keep them that long, for entertainment purposes.
My viewers will enjoy having more than one girl at a time to watch. I can also increase the subscription fees, for two. The thought pleased him enormously, not that he needed the money. Still, increasing his wealth through such a simple operation was a no brainer. “I need another bed, and another camera,” he said to the empty cab. “I can get set up in the morning, then take another one tomorrow afternoon.” Forgetting about his promise to meet his viewers in the morning, he scanned through the possible four girls remaining on his watch list. Two of them rode the bus home, but only one of them came home to an empty house.
Could he dare kidnap the girl from her home? Should he risk it?
“I’m ready,” he said aloud, smiling. “Without a doubt.”
~~~
“Another body was found this morning, in Clevestone. It has to be Shelby Torrent,” Ethan told Jeri as she emerged from the shower. “We’ll head over when you’re ready.”
“Ten minutes,” Jeri answered, quickly toweling off. “He didn’t waste any time,” she commented, throwing on her clothes. “Where in Clevestone?”
“Same as the others, side of a road leading to a few farms. Nothing different, that I know of.”
“He has to know that the authorities will tie Shelby to the prostitutes, will know they’ve got a serial operating in the area. Something in Clevestone is important enough to him that it doesn’t matter.”
“I called Nate, he’s on it. We should have access to anything we need, legally. If the locals call in the FBI, they’ll refer them to us.”
“That makes things easier, I suppose.” Jeri picked up a brush, ran it through her hair. “I feel like we should be the ones to tell Shelby’s mother. We promised her that we’d help, I don’t want her to think we dropped the case, just because Shelby died.”
“We can call her this afternoon, if you like. After she’s been notified. Our time is better spent trying to find Allison, before the same thing happens to her.” Ethan came to stand behind her, his reflection somber in the mirror.
“You’re right,” Jeri sighed. “I’d like to give Monique and Chloe the profile, before we leave. It will help them narrow down the property search list.”
“Sure thing, I’ll let them know we’ll be dropping by on our way out,” Ethan gave Jeri a squeeze, before leaving her to finish.
~~~
“We’re looking for a white male, early to mid-thirties, with money. I was able to isolate one of his shoes in part of Allison’s live video, and they’re made of high grade Italian leather. Very pricey.” Jeri met both women’s eyes before continuing. “The jacket he was wearing last night, when he paid Allison a visit, also appeared to be custom, not something you would find on the department store rack.”
“So, he can afford fine things, how does that help us find him?” Chloe asked.
“For one thing, estates, or properties with high-end homes, go straight to the top of our list. Our boy is not your average farmer, working the land. He may own a farm, but he doesn’t get his hands dirty, not that way. He’s very particular about his tools, almost to the point of being OCD. His kill room reminded me of one of Anson’s, stainless steel table, bright lights, cutting implements laid out precisely on a tray. It’s as if he’s following Anson’s play book; that he’s not thinking for himself at all.”
“Do you think he’s diagnosed as OCD? Could that help us narrow down the list?” Monique asked.
“I’m not saying that he’s absolutely OCD, just that he’s meticulous, and very controlled. His hand never shook when he cut Shelby. And the monologue to his viewers was charismatic, conversational, and upbeat, totally out of sync with his actions.”
“The way he described his technique, when he was killing her, reminded me of a chef on one of those cooking shows,” Chloe shuddered.
“Exactly, he has no remorse, whatsoever, which isn’t surprising, but he is also quite charming as he caters to his audience. Typical sociopathic behavior,” Jeri confirmed.
“So, he’s probably popular, has an active social life?” Chloe asked, trying to understand the dichotomy.
“Possibly, but I doubt it. He can turn on the charm at will, but he’s not interested in personal associations. He plays a role in his real life, one that keeps the status quo, but he lies as easily as he breathes. Any mistakes he makes are never his fault, someone else is always to blame. But his intelligence, and high charisma, help him skate through.”
“Do you think he’s married, has a family?”
“Hard to say, it’s easier for these guys to be loners, but having a family is not out of the question. The fact that he is wealthy may give him a higher profile.”
“It also makes it easier for him to hide,” Ethan added.
“True,” Jeri nodded. “Based on his timeline thus far, we only have a short window to find Allison, before he kills her. Monique, you and Chloe revise the lists we made last night, focusing on properties with homes valued at five-hundred thousand and above. We may be starting low, but I don’t want him slipping through the cracks.”
“Sure, then we start searching, one by one?” Monique asked.
“Yes, Ethan and I will join in, as soon as we make sure that the body they found this morning is Shelby.”
“What do we say to the homeowners? This is different from checking up on convicted pedophiles. These people don’t have to let us in, right?”
“No, but if they refuse, that moves them to the top of our list. Use your EJB ID’s, explain that you’re working with the FBI to help solve the murders. Tell them we’re doing a house by house search of basements and cellars. By allowing us to check out the space, they are eliminated from further investigation.” Ethan stood, preparing to leave.
“Whatever you do, stay together. Never search alone, or out of sight of each other. If you get a feeling that something’s not right, get out of there. We don’t need heroes, remember that.” Jeri’s voice was stern.
“Okay, clear enough,” Chloe nodded. “Will you let us know if it’s Shelby?”
“Of course. Be safe.”
~~~
Allison awoke from a fitful sleep, but she couldn’t tell if it was day or night. The room was marginally warmer, thanks to the space heater the man had placed in the corner, several hours ago.
Or was it minutes?
Days?
No, she thought, it couldn’t be days, she would know if she’d been here for days, wouldn’t she?
Every muscle in her body ached with the need to move, but the bonds were as tight as ever. Her stomach growled with hunger, and her mouth felt as dry as a desert.
But food and drink were the last things on her mind.
He could come back at any second. The man who made her skin crawl, more than the mice she heard scurrying around the floor.
She wasn’t stupid, she knew what he would do to her. The look in his eyes when he touched her said it all.
She wanted to fight him, claw his eyes out, but her struggles made him laugh. So, she did her best to lie still.
Listening intently for any sounds of life, other than the mice, Allison heard nothing but the drip, drip, drip of water, seeping through the cracks in the concrete. The dripping liquid only amplified her thirst, increased the longing for any comforts of home.
Home.
Mom.
Ashley.
They must be going crazy with worry. Did they find the car? Her mom worked so hard to get the second car, when Ashley turned seventeen. Their dad refused to help, said he did enough by paying child support.
Dad.
She used to think of him all t
he time, wished for him to come home, or at least show up once in a while. But he never did. Aside from the occasional phone call, Ashley and Allison never saw, or heard from, their father.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,”” her grandmother used to say. But it still hurt to know that he didn’t want his daughters in his life.
Not willing to spend one more moment thinking of him, when he probably didn’t even care that she was missing, Allison focused on the camera.
The light was still blinking, so it must be on. Was someone watching her? Could they hear her, too? Maybe she could talk to them, or him. Convince him to let her go.
It was worth a shot, she thought.
“My name is Allison Wells. I’m sixteen years old and live in Marsville, Kansas. I’m a sophomore in high school. Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone who you are, or where I am. How could I, I don’t know. Please, please, let me go. My mother and my sister need me. I want to go home.”
~~~
Graham put on headphones as soon as he saw that Allison was speaking. His mother was in the parlor, and he doubted that she could hear, but he refused to take chances.
Listening to Allison beg for release, he smiled, knowing that his viewers would love hearing her voice.
Just as he did.
Reducing the image of Allison on the cot, he focused his attention on another girl, preparing to leave for school, earlier that morning. She reminded him the most of Aubrey, with her big, blue eyes, and her petite little body. He watched, and re-watched the footage of her dressing, felt the excitement rise within him, each time she came near the webcam.
He would take her today, as soon as she arrived home from school. The news of Shelby’s death would be rampant by then, but the good folks of Fremont, Missouri, would not be afraid. The tragedy happened in Kansas, to a girl from Iowa. Nothing for them to be concerned with.
His smile faltered a bit when he remembered the preparations necessary, before he could bring another girl into the cellar. He needed another cot, and two additional cameras. He should also send a message to his subscribers, telling them of the new options, and apologizing for postponing their date with Allison this morning.
He would offer twelve hours free surveillance of both girls, before he increased the price. That should sufficiently appease them.
Satisfied with the decision, he sent the message, then locked down his system. It wouldn’t do for his mother to discover his secrets.
~~~
“A high school kid spotted her on his way to school this morning. He lives about a mile down this road,” the officer on duty explained. “The coroner should be finishing up shortly, you can speak to him then.”
“Thank you, officer.” Ethan shook the man’s hand, before returning to Jeri’s side.
“It’s the same M.O.,” Jeri told him. “Her body was barely off the road. He wanted someone to find her, soon.”
“Could you identify the body?”
“No, the locals are keeping everyone but the coroner at bay. I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”
“Understood.” Ethan took a moment to glance around. “This looks just like the other two dump sites.”
“Yes, I’d say he definitely knows the area.”
“Do you think he’s from here?”
“I doubt it, not a lot of wealth in Clevestone. Not much water, either. Aside from a public swimming pool, and a private pond or two, there’s not a property that fits what we know about his lair. He could have been raised here, I suppose.”
“Are you two waiting on me?” the coroner asked as he joined them.
“Yes, Sir. Good to see you again, but not under these circumstances,” Ethan shook his hand.
“I didn’t want to see another one, but there she is. Poor thing, not more than fifteen. It’s horrible what she endured.”
“Are the wounds consistent with the first two women?” Jeri asked, as Ethan scrolled to find a picture of Shelby on his phone.
“Yes, sorry to say. But this girl was also assaulted, sexually. Bastard!” he spat.
“Is this the girl?” Ethan held up Shelby’s image.
“Yes, it is. Who is she?”
“Her name is Shelby Torrent, she went missing from Iowa, two days ago. I’ll send you the information.”
“Well, that makes things a little easier.” The doctor shook his head, shifting his bag from one hand to the other.
“Will you send us a copy of the autopsy report? As well as any preliminary findings?” Ethan asked.
“Don’t see why not. The more people looking for this bastard, the better.” Tipping his hat, the doctor shuffled away, shoulders slumped as if he bore the weight of the world.
Chapter Ten
“This place looks like something out of Gone with the Wind,” Monique commented as she and Chloe pulled up to an antebellum mansion.
“It sure does, but it seems out of place as we’re not in the South,” Chloe answered.
“Do you want to handle this one?” Monique asked, willing to let Chloe take over.
“Sure, we’re just asking a stranger if we can take a look inside their home, to make sure that they’re not a murderer.”
“That’s not asking for much,” Monique smiled.
“I don’t think so,” Chloe agreed, pressing the doorbell.
Within moments, the leaded glass door opened to reveal a stone-faced man, dressed in an undertaker-black suit.
“May I help you?” he inquired, traces of boredom in his tone.
“Yes, we’re from EJB Global,” Chloe flashed her credentials, “and we’d like to take a look in your basement.”
“Who is it, Thomas?” The delicate voice of an elderly woman floated toward them from inside the home.
“One moment,” Thomas pushed the door to, but did not close it. They could hear him speaking through the sliver of an opening.
“It’s two women, madam, from something called EJB Global. They wish to inspect the basement.”
“Do let them in, Thomas. I’ve been asking Graham to have someone check for mold down there. My friend, Mrs. Watson, had a terrible time removing mold from her cellar, don’t you know.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The door flew open to reveal Thomas standing off to the side.
“You may enter,” he told them.
“Thanks,” Chloe answered, looking at Monique for direction. Should they pretend ignorance, and gain entry to the basement? Or should they come clean about why they were really there, and risk being turned away?
“May we speak with Mrs. Grant?” Monique asked, hoping that she remembered the correct name of the homeowner.
“Please show them in, Thomas,” Belinda Grant commanded.
“Right this way, please,” Thomas closed the door and stepped in front of them.
As they followed the butler into the parlor, Chloe glanced at Monique for direction. Monique nodded.
“Hello, Mrs. Grant, I’m Chloe Carson and this is Monique Pellier. We’re with EJB Global.” Once again, Chloe flashed her identification. “I’m sorry, but we’re not here to inspect for mold,” Chloe continued with a smile. “We’re actually working with the FBI.”
“Oh, my, the FBI, how intriguing. What could the FBI possibly want with my basement?” Belinda Grant did not offer them a seat.
“Probably nothing, Ma’am,” Chloe answered, still smiling. “We’re helping them with a house by house search. Are you aware that two teenagers have gone missing from the area?”
“Oh, my goodness, no. And you think they are hiding in my basement?” Belinda appeared confused.
“No, Ma’am, not really. But we have reason to think the girls may be holed up somewhere in a concrete room. We’re doing a search of all the homes in the area with basements. Do you mind if we take a quick look?” Chloe’s smile never faltered, even in the face of Belinda Grant’s frown.
“Of course you must look. I understand that you need to eliminate even the most unlikely places. I watch L
aw and Order,” she finished proudly, thinking that it made her current.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grant,” Chloe did her best to keep her polite smile from breaking into a grin. “You have a lovely home,” she glanced around quickly, to prove her point.
“Thank you.”
“Do you live here alone?” Monique asked. “Besides Thomas, of course,” she nodded at the butler, hovering in the doorway.
“No, this is actually my son’s home,” Belinda answered, her pride growing. “He takes such good care of me, insists that I live here, for as long as I like. My friend Sarah’s son put her in one of those retirement homes, but not my Graham. He often says how much he appreciates my company.”
“I’m sure he does,” Monique agreed sincerely. “It must be nice for you, to be so close to your grandchildren.” Nodding at a group of framed photos, some with children, Monique asked a question, without asking a question.
“Oh, no. Those aren’t my grandchildren, those are my great-nieces and great-nephews.” Sighing, Belinda looked toward the photos for a moment. “No, Graham has not yet found the right woman, so I’m still waiting for grandchildren.”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed,” Monique apologized. “Well, we’ll just hope that he finds the right woman soon, so you can enjoy your grandchildren while you’re young.”
“Yes, thank you,” Belinda patted her gray coiffed hair. “You’re very kind. Thomas will show you to the basement, now. I wish you the best of luck finding those poor girls.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grant.” Chloe answered, then followed the butler out of the room. She waited until they were out of earshot before speaking to Thomas.
“Thank you for taking the time for us,” she began. “I’m sure that you have your hands full, managing a house this size.”
Thomas nodded, but said nothing.
“Is Mr. Grant at home? Perhaps we can meet him, explain why we’re here,” Monique asked.
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