by C. K. Raggio
“Nurse Conner just started a few weeks ago,” Dr. Harrison stuttered. “She moved from Georgia. She had a really tough shift on Tuesday and was off on Wednesday. I was only told this morning by the charge nurse that she hadn’t clocked in.”
Cassie nodded, playing good cop. “Well, let’s speak with the charge nurse and then go to the administration’s office. We need a copy of all Nurse Conner’s information. We also need to speak with any nurses or doctors who may have worked with her.”
Izzy continued to glare at him.
He took a hesitant step back and glanced toward the nurse’s station. “Nurse Raycroft trained her. I’ll get her for you.”
Cassie nudged Izzy with her elbow as the doctor walked away.
“What?”
“Forget it.” Cassie took a breath, trying not to get pissed off too. It wasn’t worth it. Someone should’ve called them, but screaming at the guy wasn’t going to help anyone. Her partner always went a step too far. One day she’d get more than just a slap on the wrist, and Cassie hoped she wouldn’t be in the same town when that eruption took place.
~~~
Cassie called Hank to update him on what they learned at the hospital, then she and Izzy headed back to the precinct. She stopped at a red light and switched on the interiors. A copy of Nurse Conner’s drivers license sat on top of the file on the center console.
Jane Doe’s possible full name was Tina Marie Conner. Female. Twenty-eight-years-old. Height: five-foot-six. Eyes: Brown. Hair: Brown.
“She was pretty,” Cassie murmured. The traffic light turned green and she stepped on the gas.
Izzy picked up the file. She glanced at the photo and turned to the next page, a picture of the back of Tina’s license. She stared at a signature by the organ donor line and chuckled. “Not much she could be donor for now.”
“Ugh,” Cassie said. “You’re so cruel.”
Izzy’s phone rang. “Betz.” She reached up and turned off the dome light. “What’s up, Phil?”
With her eyes on the road but her ears tuned into the one-sided conversation, Cassie drove down the busy streets of town. Tina’s brother, Mark, was coming to make an ID.
“See you in a few,” Izzy said, and slapped the phone shut against her chin. “Her brother will be here Sunday morning. He’s in Europe on business and can’t get back any sooner. An officer will pick him up at the airport. Phil said the poor guy freaked out when he was told he couldn’t see her body, that DNA was the only way we could do it.”
“What did Phil give him as a reason?”
“Not sure. Probably that he’d never be able to sleep again if we did let him see her. Tina or not. Anyway, he also said nobody in the family had spoken to her since last weekend. They were going to call and file a missing person’s report tomorrow. The address matches. Tina only lives three blocks from the park.”
“So she wouldn’t have needed a car.” Cassie pulled into the precinct.
“The real clincher, she had a Yorkshire terrier named Rooter. Brother said the dog meant more to her than anything.”
Something about the words, ‘dog meant more to her than anything’ sounded familiar to Cassie. Like she’d heard or read it before. She’d have to check her files.
They left the car and made their way up to the office. Izzy never ceased to amaze her as she gave every male who wandered by a coy smile and flirtatious wave. It didn’t seem possible that she was the same woman who had practically browbeaten Dr. Harrison into the fetal position.
Cassie chuckled. “I don’t get it. How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Go on dates, have a sex life?” Scare the crap out of a guy and keep them coming back for more?
“It’s not difficult. While you’re torturing harmless fish, I’m working my magic on the locals. Speaking of, you should really stop playing with fish guts and come out with me sometime. I have a really hot silver dress you could wear. May be a little short, though, but you’d have men falling at your feet.”
Cassie smirked as Izzy gave a radiant smile and wink at a rookie, no older than twenty-one. The guy stared over his shoulder as they passed, tripping down the last three steps.
“Yeah, think I’ll stick to my white bibs and rubber boots, thank you.”
Izzy made a stink face as they entered the office. “White bibs? Therein lies your problem.”
Cassie saw Hank and Phil, offering them each a nod, then glanced around the office. “Where’s the agent?”
“Who knows.” Phil flung a wad of paper across the room into the wastebasket. “Probably out saving the world.”
Hank forced the zipper on his jacket up. “Agent Sanders thinks we should start by crosschecking all the fishing and hunting licenses with everyone in the hospital. With the way the body was butchered the guy’s gotta be a hunter. Make sure you include any patients Tina may have had since she started. See if we get any matches.” His eyes swept across the wall clock. “It’s past eleven. We’re not going to be able to bring anyone in till morning.”
“Unless they’re a definite.” Everyone turned as Rick Sanders entered the room.
Cassie couldn’t deny that he was tall, dark and handsome. He had bronzed skin, a chiseled jaw and a faint scar that ran down his cheek. He was no desk jockey, and to say he was sexy would be an understatement.
He leaned on the doorjamb, hands at his sides. His toned body pressed tight against his white button up shirt, his chest muscles flexed against the thin material.
Cassie blinked. Did he just do that on purpose? His muscles jumped again. He grinned. Well, somebody had an ego. And here she was adding gasoline to the inferno by staring at him like she’d never seen pec muscles before.
His eyes scanned the faces before him and landed on Cassie’s. Oh, shit. She tried to turn away, hoping he didn’t catch her gawking at him, but his gaze fixed on her. It was mesmerizing and daunting at the same time. Her eyes wouldn’t cooperate. She came to her senses as he stepped from the doorway and took long graceful strides toward her.
Everyone in the room watched them. What was wrong with her, staring like she was star-struck? She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
She found her voice. “Is there something you want from me, Sanders?” Oh my God, it’s hot in here. She caught herself before she could wave a cooling hand in front of her face.
His silence unnerved her, and she felt her face flush at her word choice. Phil snickered, but cleared his throat as Rick glanced his way.
Izzy nudged her. “Silver dress,” she whispered.
He raised a brow, a glint of amusement flashed in his chocolate-colored eyes. Who did he think he was? Brad Pitt?
“You ladies find out anything of importance at the hospital?” he asked.
The guy might be good-looking but he was an ass. “Tina Conner was a no-show at work today.” She handed him the file Dr. Harrison had given them.
His fingers brushed hers and she fought the urge to snatch her hand away like he was a hot coal. “We also spoke with an associate of hers, another nurse. She confirmed Tina had a small dog named Rooter and frequented Heron Park. They had lunch a few times and the nurse said she never spoke about a boyfriend or any other friends. Just her family down in Atlanta and the dog.”
Rick pointed to the copy machine. “Hank, you mind if I use that?”
“No, go right ahead.”
“Yeah, do what you want, use what you want.” Phil crossed his arms and stared out the window.
Rick either didn’t hear him or decided Phil wasn’t worth his time. He shuffled through Tina’s employment file, set a piece of paper into the copier and pushed some buttons.
The ancient machine clanked and lit up, spitting out a few pages. He grabbed them from the tray. With a pushpin from Phil’s desk, he placed an enlarged picture of a smiling Tina Conner on the board in the middle of the room.
“We need to find this guy before this board starts looking like a twisted yearbook collage.”
> Cassie slid into her chair as Rick left the room. He might be an arrogant womanizer but at least they had one goal in common. They needed to catch this guy before he struck again.
~~~
Rick marched down the hall. He looked straight ahead, pretending not to notice the female officers who thought they were slick, waiting for him to go by before ogling him.
He got that everywhere he went. Being full of himself wasn’t something he denied. Even some of his supervisors had shown an interest in him. But he’d already learned the hard way about mixing work with pleasure. Especially when a woman was married and decided she liked you better than her husband. He grimaced at the memory. Not one of his most brilliant decisions.
This case would be a tough one. He thought as much after looking over the files of the Virginia case. Now the killer had not only moved to New York, but also left a mutilated body behind. His MO was changing, evolving, and as it did, any kind of predictability went out the window.
Even when they confirmed Tina Conner was Jane Doe by her brother’s DNA, which he was confident in, he didn’t think it would lead them right to the killer. He might be in Long Island much longer than he anticipated. That meant spending time with the Babylon homicide detectives.
He tightened his grip on the railing as he jogged down the steps. He’d been partnered up with beautiful women before, but Detective Logan… shit, she was hot, and crazy enough, she didn’t seem to know it. Seemed impossible, but he’d been watching her. She was levelheaded, intelligent, self-assured, not stuck up like most women would be if they looked like her. Like pretty much every woman he’d been with. She was different.
For the first time he was having a hard time pushing a woman’s face from his mind. It was a weakness. A distraction. He wouldn’t fall for her, no, that would be the worst thing to do under the circumstances. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t sleep with her if she was willing.
CHAPTER 8
Timmy strolled into the small diner. Even though it was early on Saturday morning, people filled half the red vinyl booths. The smell of bacon and maple syrup was heavy in the air. An older man sat at the counter speaking with the owner. “It’s scary as hell, Peggy,” the man said. “A serial killer right here in our town. I never would’ve thought.”
Pride made Timmy hold his chin a little higher. His plan was already working. He moved closer to them and took a seat at a barstool.
Peggy’s face lit up when she saw him. “Excuse me, Ralph.” She laid a liver-spotted hand on the man’s arm before walking toward Timmy.
“Hey there, stranger. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Timmy gave her his most endearing grin. “I’ve been busy.” What would Peggy do if he let her in on what he meant by busy? The old hag would probably drop dead at his feet, slamming her huge nose on the counter on the way down.
At least that’s what he hoped would happen. He couldn’t have anybody dying in front of him without a gush or two of blood. His heart pounded as the image of stripping skin off a naked female body crowded his mind. It was nearly time to do it again.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
She took a mug down from the shelf, filled it with decaf, and brought it over to him.
The bell over the door chimed. Timmy glanced over his shoulder. It was the FBI agent. Timmy’s mouth went dry and he lowered his head over his mug. He tried to cover up his surprise by taking a quick gulp instead of a sip of his coffee and burned the crap out of his tongue, making his eyes water.
Peggy wiped her hands on her grease-stained apron. “Agent Sanders. It’s so wonderful to see you again. I’ll check on your food. That was to go, right?”
The agent grinned and came up beside Timmy. “Yes, thank you.”
Timmy looked up at him. The scar on the man’s cheek, he hadn’t noticed it at the news conference, but there was something about it. Timmy cleared his throat. “Did you catch the scumbag yet?”
The agent studied him for a moment, then returned his gaze to the wall. “Not yet, but we will.”
He took another sip of his scalding coffee. Yeah, you’ll get him, asshole. He’s sitting right next to you. Damn, what the hell was it about the scar that kept irking at him?
Peggy walked from the kitchen with a bag in her hands. “All set. That’ll be $10.50.”
The agent pulled his wallet out and handed her a ten and a five. “Thanks.” He smiled and Peggy blushed as he walked out.
“That man is beyond movie star good-looking. I don’t know how Cassie Logan and Izzy Betz are gonna keep their hands to themselves.”
Timmy winked. “I’m sure they won’t be able to. You’ve been trying to hook Cassie up for years, maybe you won’t have to now.”
“It’s not so much me as it is her father. That man is relentless.” She sighed. “What I would give to be twenty years younger. Anyway, what can I get ya?”
“Two eggs over easy, rye toast, and well-done bacon.”
“You got it.” She moved to the window and put his order in.
Timmy glanced back at the front door where the agent had gone. Where had he seen him? That scar? Timmy closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the voices around him and dug deep. Almost immediately excitement warmed his core. Got ya. He hoped he’d saved the article.
After scarfing down his breakfast, Timmy headed straight home. He ran up the stairs to his office, key in hand. He entered the code, the alarm beeped once, and he slid the key in the lock. It made a soft clicking noise, and he pushed the door open.
He took a few minutes to situate himself at his desk. His fingers tingled with anticipation as he went to his saved files on his computer. Ever since he was a kid he kept up on all the sick fucks in the world. This one caught his attention because of the way the guy had tortured his victims.
He held his breath as he pounded on the keys. He’d be able to find it again if he did a search, but it would be easier if it were among the ones he already had.
And there it was. The Tennessee Times.
FBI Agent Misses by a Long Shot
On Tuesday, June 13 2008, Marcy Tucker, a senior at Freeman High School, was found raped, sodomized and murdered. After a ten hour search, she was found at her parent’s twenty-acre farm. The Tucker family is well known in their small town and the local law enforcement sent for immediate assistance.
Quantico sent Agent Rick Sanders to aid in the investigation. After only a day of speaking with witnesses and looking over crime photos, autopsy reports and the victim’s personal information, he came to his conclusion. The perp was targeted as someone Marcy knew, and the crime was determined to have been planned out from start to finish.
Marcy’s ex-boyfriend, William Harris, was brought in for questioning along with the rest of her classmates. We spoke with one classmate who asked not to be named. “Will scared the crap out of me,” she admitted. “The whole class was afraid of him. So was Marcy.”
Detective Nate Irving explains what they found. “After six hours of interrogations, Harris admitted Marcy had ended their relationship on the night she was killed. He claimed he was pressuring Marcy to sleep with him and she was uncomfortable with the idea. Hours later he caught her making out with another boy. But he swore he didn’t kill her. With no evidence, we were not able to hold him any longer.”
The boy Harris caught with Marcy, whose name we cannot release, was also brought in, but was able to provide an alibi for the estimated time Marcy was killed. Harris was questioned again after friends of the two teens came forward. They admitted that Harris had beaten Marcy twice, breaking her nose and arm.
With the support from FBI Agent Rick Sanders, the local police were sure that they’d captured Marcy’s killer, until two more senior girls went missing.
Agent Sanders led a search party into an abandoned barn two miles from Marcy’s house. There they found the girls, staked out on the dirt floor, but still alive.
Agent Sanders moved in and was jumped from behi
nd. A scuffle ensued and one girl was shot by Agent Sanders’s own hand. She was killed instantly. Agent Sanders was also injured when the perpetrator slashed his cheek with a knife before being subdued by other officers.
And that’s where Timmy had seen the scar. He scanned the rest of the article.
Agent Sanders had been assigned desk duty while the death of the girl was under investigation.
Timmy pulled up the video, filmed by a small-town news reporter. Agent Sanders exiting the hospital, a white bandage over his cheek.
Clicking his mouse, Timmy went to the next video feed taken a few weeks later. The jagged scar on Agent Sander’s face raw as he spoke at a different new conference on another case Timmy had found intriguing.
Timmy smiled. What would the agent do if the next victim here on Long Island brought him back to the fateful day that he killed an innocent little girl? What if the victim looked like Marcy Tucker? There was only one way to find out.
~~~
The rain beat on Timmy’s back as he stripped naked in the woods behind his house. He stuffed his clothes and the victim’s items into a burlap bag. The lake lapped at his ankles and he shivered. He gave himself a moment to get used to the temperature before moving forward.
It was cold, but he’d washed off many a woman’s blood and gore from his skin when it was colder. With one, the ice had been thick enough to ice skate on. He had to break it up with an ax to get to the spot he kept his lobster cages.
He waded in the water up to his knees, pulling the bag along behind him, counting out each step he took. He stopped at twenty. His toes sunk into mud as he searched the bottom for the rope. It rubbed against his left foot. He took a few deep breaths and dove under.
With the rope gripped in one hand, and the bag in the other, he followed it to the end in the mud, digging for the small anchor that held it in place. As it came free he grabbed onto the lobster cage already crammed with two other burlap bags. He surfaced with a sputtering cough, his lungs aching from the cold.
The latch on the cage was slippery with algae and it took him a few seconds to get it open. He shoved the bag inside, made sure the latch was shut tight, and went under again. After burying the anchor, he headed for shore.
