by Dee Davis
“I didn’t think you could process DNA evidence that quickly,” Hannah said, looking up from the table where she’d been studying a copy of the video of the attack. Something about it kept niggling at her brain, but so far she hadn’t been able to figure out what it was.
“We can’t. But Jasmine was an autologous blood donor. So we compared our sample to the one at the hospital, and there was enough similarity for me to identify it as Jasmine’s. We’ll follow up with the DNA panel to verify for certain.”
“And there weren’t any fingerprints?” Hannah asked. She’d only just arrived, having spent the last hour or so with Tina, who, understandably, was completely freaked.
“Lots,” Drake responded from a corner where he was examining blood spatter. “It’ll take days to go through them all. But there’s not much chance any of them belong to the killer. If you’ll notice in the video, he’s wearing gloves.”
Hannah turned back to the phone she was using as a monitor, rewinding and then hitting play. Without the volume, the video seemed more surreal, less frightening. But the sight of the struggle still set her stomach on edge. Then, just before the cat launched himself at the camera, Hannah could clearly see a gloved hand as the unsub attacked Jasmine.
“So we’ve got nothing?” she asked.
“I’ve got a list of names from the local police,” Tracy said. “Men who have a history of sexual violence. But there are only ten, and eight of those are in prison or have moved out of the area.”
“What about the other two?”
“Avery and Simon are checking them out now,” Drake said. “But neither of them really fits the profile. The first one leans toward older victims. And the other one is old. Seventy-eight, to be exact.”
“What about the second video? The one we found here. Has Harrison managed to isolate anything to give us a location?”
“Not yet,” Drake shook his head regretfully. “How’s Tina doing?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Hannah said, blowing out a long breath. “Considering what happened to Jasmine…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“I think it’s almost harder not knowing,” Tracy agreed. “I wish there was more we could do for her. But this guy isn’t cooperating. So far he’s given us nothing.”
“This place is a mess.” Drake frowned. “I mean there’s been no effort to clean it up at all. Surely there’s something here.”
“You’d think.” Tracy shook her head. “But the things he’s left—broken dishes, the bloodstain—none of them have any trace that could link back to him. He was careful where it mattered.”
“And the rest?” Hannah asked, pretty certain she already knew the answer.
“The rest he wanted us to find,” Tracy said. “This guy is all about sharing. He’s almost going out of his way to make sure we have a front-row seat to the murders.”
“It’s like he’s getting off on jerking us around.” Drake frowned as his gaze swept across the scene.
“He is. After a fashion,” Tracy agreed. “It’s a show of power. A way for him to prove that he’s better than we are. Always one step ahead of the game. He probably likes the danger, too. Although most likely he doesn’t really believe we’ll be able to catch him. And he’s escalating.”
“How do you know?” Hannah laid down the phone, twisting in her chair so that she could better see Tracy.
“Two things. First off, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we found the first body. And he’s already striking again. The cyber killer, if that’s who he’s emulating, was much less rushed. Five murders over a two-year period.”
“So either this guy is much more driven to find release, or he’s following his own damn drummer,” Drake said, dropping down in the chair next to Hannah at the table.
“Could be either one. But it means that he’s moving quickly, and that gives us less time to try to find him.”
“You said there were two things,” Hannah prompted.
“Yes. The video of his attack. He didn’t wear a camera when he took Sara Lauter. Or if he did, he didn’t have success sending it. But I’m guessing it was the former. Somehow filming the murder isn’t enough. He needs more.”
“Which is why you say he’s escalating. Whatever his fantasy, it most definitely involves a need to get one over on authority figures. He wants validation.”
“And we’re fulfilling that need.”
“Exactly. Although in point of fact, it’s the FBI he’s making grandstands for. You guys are just professors as far as he’s concerned.”
“Well, that’s par for the course for us,” Hannah said. “The whole idea is that no one knows who we really are.”
“Except the Consortium,” Drake sighed.
Tracy looked askance, and Hannah shrugged. “They’re a lot like the killer. Always one step ahead. Taunting us with their ability to stay under the radar. So far we’ve been able to avert the worst of their activities, but we’re not even close to shutting them down. It’s like fighting a terminator. They just keep coming back.”
“Well, everyone makes mistakes sooner or later,” Tracy said. “Even the most talented unsubs. And if I had to put money on it, I’d pick you guys against any organization, no matter how good they are at covering their tracks. Anyway, bottom line here,” her gaze moved to the scene, “whatever the stressor that started all of this, broadcasting the kill isn’t enough anymore. He needs to feel like he’s manipulating everything. That he’s calling all the shots.”
“I thought Madison was the profiler,” Drake said with a crooked smile.
Tracy laughed, the levity at odds with the situation. But sometimes it was the only way to stay sane. “I’m a fast learner. And you can’t hang around with people like Madison and Harrison and not pick up a thing or two.”
“So you were working with them when his sister died?” Hannah asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Yeah,” Tracy said, sobering. “I was a consultant for the FBI at the time. Still am, actually. So I work a lot of their cases. I was there when they found Bree.”
“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” Hannah sat back, watching the other woman. “Losing a sibling. A twin to boot.”
“He told you about it?” Her dark eyes widened in surprise.
“He sort of had to,” Drake said. “With everything that’s been happening, it was crucial to bring us up to speed. And since this guy seems to be doing a pretty good imitation of the cyber killer, that meant telling us about Brianna. He’d never mentioned any of it before, though.”
Tracy shrugged. “For such a genial guy, Harrison’s not big on sharing.”
That was something Hannah could understand. “Sometimes the past is just better off staying buried.” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but then they thought she was still talking about Harrison.
“Until it comes back to bite you in the butt,” Drake said. “Anyway, I’m sorry he’s having to relive all of this. And when we get our hands on this bastard…” he trailed off with a shrug.
“I’m just glad that Harrison landed in a good place. He’s been through a lot. And I don’t think he’s ever really found somewhere where he felt like he really belonged.”
“But I thought he and Madison…” Hannah broke off, embarrassed to have asked the question.
“They were close. Really close,” Tracy said. “I’m not sure he could have gotten through it all without her help. But they were never more than friends, if that’s what you’re implying. To be honest, after what happened to Bree, I don’t think Harrison is capable of having that kind of relationship. He’s just lost too much to ever be able to give like that again.”
It wasn’t anything Hannah didn’t already know, and yet, she was surprised at how much the thought hurt. Maybe it was hearing it from someone else. Or maybe she’d been holding out some small hope that… She shook her head, angry at herself for even considering the idea. Harrison was her friend. And she was
lucky to have that. People like her were too dysfunctional for anything more. Isn’t that what the social worker had drilled into her head all those years ago?
“Well, I’m living proof it’s possible,” Drake was saying, the words pulling her from her thoughts. “If you’d have told me a couple of years ago that I’d wind up with an amazing wife and a baby on the way, I’d have told you to go screw yourself. If I can find that kind of happiness—believe me, anyone can.”
Hannah stared down at her hands, trying not to let Drake’s words turn personal. She was letting the emotions of the past few days get to her. They needed to find this guy and stop him, then everything would go back to normal.
“I see Drake is emoting about the glories of married life again,” Simon said, as he and Avery walked into the room.
“Hey,” Drake said, his smile widening, “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“No, thank you.” Simon shook his head, while Tracy laughed. “I’m just fine with love ’em and leave ’em, believe me. As far as I’m concerned, permanence is highly overrated.”
“You and me both,” Hannah said, forcing a laugh. “So how did it go with the suspects?”
“It was a wash,” Avery said, his frustration evident in his expression. “The first guy had an airtight alibi. And the second is so old he can barely breathe. So we’ve still got nothing.”
“Madison and Harrison are batting zero, too,” Drake said, pushing away from the table. “So far there’s nothing on the latest video to help us ID where he’s keeping the girl.”
“And every minute that goes by it’s less likely that we’ll find Jasmine alive.” Avery frowned, his gaze moving to Tracy. “You almost done here?”
“Yeah. Just a little while longer,” Tracy said as the two of them walked into the next room, Drake trailing behind them.
“So what are you doing?” Simon asked, dropping down into the chair Drake had vacated.
“I don’t know for sure,” Hannah said. “I’ve been going over the footage the killer sent to Tina. Something about it bugs me. But I can’t figure out what it is exactly.”
“Want me watch it with you? Maybe I’ll see something you missed.”
“That’d be great,” she said, queueing it up. “It’s toward the end that I start feeling like there’s more.” They sat back, watching as the camera caught the edge of a cutting board against the tiled countertop and then swung forward as the killer grabbed Jasmine, the sounds of their struggle still nauseating even after multiple viewings.
“Okay, now,” Hannah said, nodding at the screen. “Something here.” The sound of Jasmine’s scream was replaced by the yowl of the cat as the camera swung around to face Asha. The animal crouched and then sprang at the camera.
“Wait,” Simon said. “What’s that sound?”
Hannah rewound slightly and then started it again, straining to listen. “A curse, maybe? From the killer?”
“Makes sense.” Simon nodded, still staring at the screen. “Cat gets freaked, takes a flying leap at the unsub, and the guy gets pissed and mouths off.”
“But it’s really hard to understand.” Hannah shook her head, the niggling feeling still there.
“So maybe Harrison can work his magic on it. I know there are programs that can pull out the interference of background noise. All we need is to enhance it. Cut out the cat’s scream and bring up the level of the voice. Seems simple enough. We just need the right equipment.”
Hannah nodded, still considering Simon’s words. The cat had attacked the killer. It was right there on the screen. Suddenly the niggle blossomed.
“Does Asha still have his claws?”
Simon frowned, trying to follow her train of thought. “Definitely, I felt them when I pulled him out of the laundry basket. But I don’t see why…”
“Hang on a minute.” Hannah ran the footage back again to right before the cat entered the scene. “Tracy said the killer was wearing the camera, right? Giving us his point of view.”
“Yeah.” Simon nodded, his eyes on the screen now, too.
“So when the cat jumps,” Hannah froze the video just as the cat yowled, crouching to pounce, “he’s aiming for something in front of him. Something that’s pissing him off. And if the camera is on the killer then—”
“Then it has to be the killer he’s attacking,” Simon said, comprehension dawning. “And when a cat attacks, it uses its claws.”
“And if Asha drew blood, then we just might have a shot at the killer’s DNA.”
CHAPTER 13
We need to talk,” Harrison said, walking into the war room where Hannah was reading a report. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say, but he could feel the tension between them growing and he hated the idea of anything—even their own stupidity—coming between them. “I know now isn’t the right time, but with everything happening, I’m not sure there is such a thing. And I really regret what happened last night.”
She sighed, putting the report on the table as she lifted her gaze to his. “I’m not exactly sure ‘regret’ is the word a woman wants to hear from a man she just spent the night with.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Harrison protested, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. “I suck when it comes to words. I just don’t want what happened to come between us. I value your friendship.”
“And that’s all you want?”
He sucked in a breath, suddenly certain that whatever he said it was going to be the wrong thing. “Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know. I just know that you’re important to me. Too important to let casual sex fuck it all up.” Fuck being the operative word.
Friends with benefits.
He’d always thought the phrase sounded crass. And now here he was trying to compartmentalize last night’s foray in exactly that way.
“Look, Harrison,” Hannah said with a soft smile. “I don’t regret last night. But that doesn’t mean it’s a ‘big deal’ either. So if you’re worried that I’m reading more into it than I should—I’m not. It was a great night. We both needed to let off steam, and I’d say we accomplished that in spades. But now it’s over. And so everything can go back to normal.”
He searched her face, trying to read between the lines, but she looked just as she always did. Slightly disheveled and wonderfully sexy all at the same time. And despite the fact that they were, for all practical purposes, saying that last night had meant nothing, he felt his body stirring, desire rising. The woman had a way of affecting him like that.
“We’re good?” he asked, tamping down his libido.
“Absolutely.” She nodded, her expression resolute.
“And things can go back to the way they were?” The question came of its own accord, and just for a moment, he thought he saw a shadow cross her face.
“Stop worrying, Harrison. Nothing’s changed,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand, their gazes locking, the pheromones surging between them negating their attempts at denial.
“Hannah, I…”
“You were right,” Drake said, bursting into the room completely oblivious of the rising tension. “There was blood and skin residue on the cat’s front claws. Good catch, Hannah.”
“Thanks,” she said, pulling her hand free and turning to Drake, the moment between them evaporating as quickly as it had come. “So did it tell us anything?”
“Nothing yet.” Drake shook his head. “Tracy’s working to extract the DNA. And then we’ll have to run it against existing databases to see if we get a hit. But right now it’s our best shot.”
“Yes, but we’re not going to get the information soon enough to help Jasmine Washington. No matter how you look at it, her time’s running out.” Simon walked into the war room, radiating frustration. Avery followed on his heels, talking with Tracy.
“Or it already has,” Drake said, his tone matter-of-fact, but his face reflecting the harsh reality of the situation.
“All the more reason to nail this bastard,” Avery sa
id as the team found seats around the table.
“Where’s Madison?” Simon asked, his gaze encompassing the group.
“She got called back to Quantico,” Avery responded. “Her team’s working on a case in Portland. And they need her there. But she promised to stay connected via cellphone and email. And we’ve still got Tracy.” He shot a smile in her direction. “So we’re in good hands.”
“Well, I don’t know that I’m on the same level as Madison when it comes to predicting behavior, but I’ve got my talents. I managed to extract the DNA from the blood sample you gave me. And it definitely isn’t a match to Jasmine Washington. Which means it’s most likely from the unsub. I’m running it against the FBI databases now.”
“If you’ll send me the details, I can run it against CIA records as well,” Hannah said, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “And I can also cross-check it against Homeland Security’s databases. I realize it’s not as likely that we’ll get a hit, but you never know.”
“The more places we search, the better,” Avery agreed. “I’ll also forward the info to the local police. It’s important that we keep them in the loop. And you never know, maybe they’ve got a local we missed when we did our search. There are definitely aspects of Sara’s murder that don’t fit the profile of a sexual predator.”
“I’m not following.” Simon frowned, shaking his head.
“Just that there’s a detachment about the way she was killed. Even the rape. It’s almost as if the killer is just going through the motions,” Tracy said.
“Yeah, well the end result is the same. Sara’s dead. And Jasmine Washington is next on the list.” Drake leaned forward, anger coloring his words.
“I’m just trying to point out that our unsub may not be a sexual offender. And least not in the usual sense.”
“Well, maybe we’ll get something from the public,” Avery said. “Madison did a press conference before she left, releasing selected parts of the profile and warning everyone in the area that we’ve got a dangerous man on the loose. Who knows, maybe the information she shared will trigger a memory with someone and they’ll call it in. How’s Tina holding up?”
