by J. E. Taylor
“Y’all want coffee?” Gagnon’s Georgian accent came across thicker than it had inside, accompanied by an unspoken hostility.
“Is there a reason you don’t like me?”
Gagnon glanced in his direction with a tight jaw. “You feds are all alike—you waltz in and think you know more than us local cops. Like we don’t know our ass from our elbow.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t think we would ask questions? You figured we were so ass-backwards to not see the excitement in the kid’s faces, or the fact that the parents walked away, trusting their kids to a stranger?”
“I’m sorry but the file that was sent to us was missing some of the key points—like the dog,” Steve said. “I’m here to help catch this bastard. I’m on the same team as you are.”
Gagnon drew in a breath, exhaling and nodding. This time, when he glanced in Steve’s direction, it didn’t contain a glare. “I know. It’s just... I knew Jody Reece and her family pretty well. Jody was their only child and telling them their daughter was dead was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine losing either of my kids,” he said and pulled into the parking lot of the local Starbucks. He wiped his face and sighed. “I know we’re on the same team. I’m just frustrated as hell. The bastard seems to be a step ahead of us at every turn.”
Steve snorted in agreement. “I’ve been there before. Hopefully, we can help catch him before the missing kids are killed.” He opened the car door and stepped out. “You want something?” He asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at the building.
Gagnon hesitated, debating and then he nodded. “Grande Black if you don’t mind.”
Steve ran inside, ordering a double vanilla latte for himself and the Grande Black for Gagnon. He closed his eyes, letting the coffee scent mix with thoughts of strangers. Nothing. He opened his eyes just as the counter clerk handed him the coffee.
The Reece’s were cordial and still displayed that southern charm Georgia was famous for, but Steve knew it was a struggle. He didn’t have to rely on mind reading - their eyes were ringed with hollow bruises from lack of sleep and their corneas were surrounded by a web of bright blood vessels signaling tears had recently been shed. Tired didn’t begin to describe it, more like the walking dead going through the motions of daily life, and he could relate. That’s exactly how he had been the first few weeks after the explosion.
“I know this is hard, and I know you already went over this with Officer Gagnon, but I need you to go over it with me. Can you tell me exactly who your daughter ran to see?”
“There was an officer with a dog in training. She ran to see the dog.” Mrs. Reece sniffled.
“German Shepherd?”
Mrs. Reece shook her head. “My heavens no, I would never let Jody run up to a German Shepherd, this was a Golden Retriever. I didn’t think much of it. We see working dogs all the time.”
Steve sat back in the chair and glanced at Gagnon.
“There’s a canine training school in the area,” Mr. Reece added.
“Can you tell me what the officer looked like?”
Mrs. Reece tilted her head. “I’d say he was about my husband’s height. Thin but muscular, with dark hair. I didn’t see his eyes because he had sunglasses on.”
Steve nodded and stood. “Thank you for your time.”
The other conversations were principally the same; a cop with a Golden Retriever in training. The description of the man’s hair varied, but the clothing, height, and physique were the same. There was a cop out there, or someone posing as one, who was abducting, torturing, and killing kids.
Sitting in the car after the fifth family, Steve turned to Gagnon. “What’s your take on this?”
Gagnon stared out the windshield. “I don’t know if it’s a cop or just someone pretending to be one. Either way there are only a handful of us on the force who know this and we didn’t send it in the profile either.”
Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you started looking at the histories of the officers in the area?”
“Yes, especially those in the canine units, but honestly, there are over a thousand cops in the greater Atlanta area and it’s taking us way too much time.”
“Time you don’t have.”
“Yes, and if it isn’t a cop—we’re wasting our resources.” His sigh filled the car.
“What about the missing kids?”
“We’ve got a dozen reports but only two fit the profile. The rest, well, they’re more ambiguous, sad stories just the same, but they didn’t have anything to do with our perp. I’m betting those are cases of estranged spouses grabbing the kid or a true runaway that will turn up eventually.”
The odds were the two families with similar circumstances would end up with another dot and a line on the map, same signature, same horrific ending unless they could catch him in time. Steve stared at his notes as Gagnon headed back to the station and his skin burned with frustration.
Standing in front of the pictures in the precinct house, Steve whispered, “Talk to me.” He slowly looked from one photo to the next. Reaching up, he removed the pictures of those families that didn’t fit the profile. The two that Gagnon mentioned remained, a nine-year-old boy and eleven-year-old girl. He moved their photos next to the others and ran his fingertips over the images. André and Katie, he memorized their names, their faces before turning around. “How long between abduction and finding the bodies?”
“Usually a week,” Danforth answered.
Steve closed his eyes, hanging his head. That gave him two days to save André and another day or two to find Katie, not enough time and he knew it.
Sarah stepped close and put her hand on his shoulder.
He turned his troubled gaze to her.
What good is everything Chris gave me if I can’t stop the monsters?
Chapter 17
Every inch of André’s skin hurt and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, parched, sandpapery, and he tried to swallow. He was thirstier than he could ever remember being. The darkness caressed his bare skin; the steel under his back cold, the heat from his feverish body couldn’t warm it up, and he shivered, teeth chattering in the blackness. Even though he was afraid of the dark, it was much better than when the man was in the room.
The soft click of the dog’s nails against the concrete reached André’s ears and he stiffened. Usually when the dog came, the man followed. André began to tremble, trying not to mess the diaper he wore but it was useless, the fear squeezed his bladder and hot urine spurted out when the dog jumped up, front paws sliding under his side and the cool nose pressed against his cheek. The rough tongue licked the tears off his face and then the dog jumped down, panting, waiting.
They didn’t have to wait long, the whistle echoed off the stone walls, a tune André vaguely recalled. He thought it might be “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, and he knew what was in store today. He had been warned.
The bright spotlights went on, blinding him. “P-p-please, d-d-don’t hurt m-me.” André’s voice hitched in his chest, he couldn’t help blubbering although it did no good. The deep brown, almost black, eyes met his with no hint of mercy.
“I see you’ve pissed your pants again.” He shook his head. “Tsk, tsk.”
André watched in horror as the doctor reached for a pair of surgical scissors on the table of shiny sharp utensils.
“We talked about what would happen if you did that again.” He flipped the cauterization pen on and the smell of burnt flesh permeated the room, remnants from the last time he cauterized one of André’s wounds.
One snip and André couldn’t breathe. He stared at the ceiling with his mouth open in a silent scream, but nothing came out, the pain was too much, too big to put volume on it. He felt the world sliding into blackness, and just as he teetered on the edge, a burning sensation gripped him, breaking the silence in his chest and a shrill scream barreled from his throat, just befor
e he fell into the abyss.
André’s eyes fluttered open. He had no idea how long he had been out but he wished for death. Unbearable pain gripped his groin and he sobbed, long, loud sobs interrupted by gagging. He swallowed the bile in his throat. The last time he threw up, the doctor cut off his index finger and fed it to the dog. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to know, but he could hear and he knew the dog only ate what it was fed.
But like the pull of an accident scene, his gaze was drawn to the sound, and the demon wagged his tail. André looked at the beautiful dog, the reason he was here now, and cursed the beast. The Golden Retriever met his stare and licked his chops, waiting for the next tidbit, the next piece of André to be tossed his way.
Chapter 18
Sarah tapped his hotel room door with the back of her knuckles and waited. When he didn’t come to the door, she glanced at her watch. It was 7:30, he should be out of bed by now, and she rapped harder.
The chain scraped and then he opened the door, his sleepy gaze meeting hers before he swung the door open and let her in. She watched his bare back and underwear clad ass cross the room toward the bathroom.
“God, how the hell did you sleep on that?” Sarah said pointing at the mess on his bed. It looked like a hurricane hit with papers scattered over both beds along with quite a few empty chip bags. Stacked on the nightstand was half a dozen empty soda cans to add to the clutter.
“I was up late,” Steve said and disappeared into the bathroom.
“How late?”
“I don’t know—maybe three or four.” The answer came from behind the cracked bathroom door. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“What’s the plan for today?” She cleared a place at the small table and put the coffee tray down, grabbing hers from the cardboard holder.
The shower went off and Steve stepped into the room wrapped in a towel and rummaged through his suitcase. The sight of his glistening chest brought the blood straight to her cheeks and between her legs, creating a dull throb of wanting. She crossed her legs and quickly glanced away until he pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Sarah raised her eyebrow at the contradiction between her deep-blue tailored suit, with matching high heels and his dungarees, sneakers and onyx-blue t-shirt. The two-day stubble didn’t help either and she had to remind herself he was married.
Steve ran his hands through his wet hair before straightening up the piles of notes and papers, dropping them into his backpack along with his wallet, badge, and gun. He slid his glasses on, approaching Sarah smiling his famous smile, the one that made women do almost anything he asked. “Let’s roll,” he said, swiping the car keys and remaining coffee cup off the table.
Sarah stared at him forcing herself to ignore that smile. Instead, she focused on his attire. “You’re wearing that?”
Steve looked down at his clothing and back at her. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Sarah let out a laugh and stood, stepping toward the door. “You don’t look like an FBI agent.”
“That’s the point.” Steve slid by her and unlocked the car. “You, on the other hand, stick out like a sore thumb.”
Doubt lined her skin and she adjusted the skirt, smoothing the fabric before speaking. “I look like a federal agent,” she said and he rolled his eyes in her direction.
“Sometimes incognito is better.”
“You don’t like the suit?”
His glance skimmed her for a moment and then focused back on the road. “The suit is nice, but it screams fed. If you weren’t packing, you might be able to pull off corporate executive, but that bulge gives you away.” He nodded to her concealed gun. The ride from the hotel was quick and he pulled up in front of the station. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Sarah settled back in the seat and turned toward Steve. “Where are we going?”
“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m checking out the canine training school and I don’t want to be made as a cop,” he slid his sunglasses down his nose. “With you there, we’d be sunk.”
His audacity prickled her skin and she was tempted to push the issue, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. “We aren’t undercover here,” she said.
“People have a tendency to talk more if they aren’t talking to an FBI agent. Now if you don’t mind...” He waved at the door.
Sarah cursed under her breath and nodded. “Fine, but what do I tell Cleary?”
“Tell him I’m fishing around and tell him I’ll buy lunch for the precinct when I get back.” He flashed a grin and pushed his sunglasses back up, peeling out of the parking lot the moment the passenger door closed.
* * * *
Steve pulled into the canine training center and slid out of his car. He surveyed the training grounds, raising his eyebrows. There weren’t just German Shepherds here, there were black and chocolate labs, Dobermans, Golden Retrievers and Rottweilers all being trained in different capacities. Steve let out a grunt. It wasn’t going to be as much of a snap as he’d hoped.
He entered the reception area and slid off his glasses, flashing his Mother Teresa smile. “Hello. My name’s Steve Winchester.” He extended his hand to the cute receptionist, never missing a beat, even with the alias. “I just moved here from the northeast and I’m looking for some information about the training program. My dog is just a puppy at this point, but I’d like her to be trained to protect my son.”
“This isn’t an obedience school. We train guide dogs and police dogs,” she said.
“I’m not looking for an obedience school ma’am. I’m looking for the same type of training a police dog would have. My Sadie, she’s a little too friendly and I’d like her to be more vigilant around my son, especially when I’m working.”
The receptionist looked up into his blue eyes and sighed. “What kind of dog do y’all have?”
“A Golden Retriever.”
She smiled and nodded, picking up the phone. “Bob, I have someone out here who would like to enroll in the police training class.” She covered the receiver. “Are you a police officer?”
Steve shook his head.
“No he isn’t. But.” She paused glancing up at Steve. But he’s just so hot! “But he seems...Okay. I’ll tell him.” Pouting, she hung up the phone. “Unfortunately, that training class is only open to the members of the force.”
Steve let his shoulders slump a little. “I was told this place is the best around. You sure there isn’t anything you can do for me?”
“I’m sorry sir, but the owner is pretty strict about these things.” I tried, believe me, I tried.
A deep sigh. “Okay, then, do you know of any training or obedience schools that offer a similar program?”
Another shake of her head. “I’m really sorry, sir.”
Steve nodded. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”
He slid into the car and drove back to the precinct. The information he now had, confirmed his suspicions. It definitely was a cop or someone who once was a cop. “Shit.”
Cleary grabbed his arm and yanked him into a room, closing the door before he exploded. “You are not an undercover agent anymore. What the hell do you think you’re doing dropping your partner here and taking off?” His voice was loud enough for the officer’s closest to the door to exchange glances.
“The killer’s a cop,” Steve said very quietly.
“You’re out of your fucking mind.”
Steve shook his head and instead of speaking aloud, he laid it all out silently. Look Ron, there are a handful of cops in this precinct who know the full details of the case. They suspect it’s a cop and all the parents confirmed it was a man dressed as a cop with a dog in training. I just came back from the canine training school and they only offer training to members of the force. Now, it could be a civilian posing as a cop, someone who stole the training school insignia, but my gut tells me otherwise. We only have a couple of days before the body of André Lucas will be dropped somewhere. I’d lik
e to say I can find him before then, but I can’t guarantee it. I can’t even guarantee I’ll be able to nail the bastard before the last victim is recovered. If I can’t, I’m betting the son of a bitch will change his M.O. I don’t want the cop-dog angle released to the press just yet, it will create a panic and the police will not be able to do their jobs. If the UNSUB changes M.O. then it is a cop with inside information.
Cleary sat down hard at the desk, his jaw askew and eyes wide. “Jack, uh, Jack never, uh mentioned this to me.”
“Jack never knew. This is a fairly new development, sir.” Steve took a seat. “And it isn’t foolproof.” He looked down at his hands and shrugged.
Cleary was dumbfounded, his mind racing over all his thoughts about this kid since he pulled him out of the police cell in Torrington.
“Yes, I pretty much heard it all,” Steve said offering a crooked smile to his supervisor. “And yeah, I actually am an arrogant asshole most of the time.”
Cleary raised his eyebrows and started chuckling.
“I was a good investigator before this,” he waved at his head.
“According to Jack you were brilliant.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Not really.” He picked at the hangnail on his thumb. “I didn’t figure out Kyle was alive until it was too late.” He raised his gaze to his boss. “And if I’d had this...” he trailed off and shrugged.
Cleary leaned forward on the desk. “I don’t think it would have made a hoot of difference. You still wouldn’t have put that gun down.”
Steve inhaled. “If I’d had this, I would have known he was there waiting for me and I would have taken him out the second I walked in the door.”
Cleary leaned back in the seat. “I have to say, I don’t know if I could have done what you did in that warehouse. You did the right thing and while I do think you’re arrogant, I also respect your integrity.”
Steve felt his cheeks warming at Cleary’s comment. Integrity. Jennifer would scoff at that. For a moment, his skin broke out in gooseflesh and a shiver itched the base of his spine, forewarning him that the dark days had just begun.
