by C. K. Raggio
Hill glanced at Fleming and continued. “We’re going to have agents from our Atlanta office check out Marietta. See if what Gary said was true about Steven having another kennel down there. If it’s legit, they can question Steven’s neighbors and whoever he has watching the dogs. We don’t think Steven would head back there yet. He knows he didn’t kill Gary and that we would've most likely spoken with him by now. What he doesn’t know is that we have this.” Hill shut the cover of the notebook.
“Should we call all these parks and local precincts on the list?” Hank asked. “Let them know what’s going on? Fax over a picture of Steven and the artist’s sketch of the dog?”
Hill nodded. “Yeah, good. But we don’t want Steven to know we have his targeted areas under surveillance. We need to keep what we tell these people as basic as possible. Make sure though, they put as many rangers and undercover cops at these parks as their budgets allow. If anyone sees Steven, they should contact us immediately.”
Flemings rose from the couch. “We have to all come to terms that this guy will kill again.” He leaned against the back of a chair. “At the very least, there will be one more murder under his belt. But, I foresee there being a few more before we can nab him, and that’s only if we’re lucky.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped and she sat back in the couch. She’d wanted to catch the scumbag before he killed again. Now some other girl would be stalked and attacked, putting her friends and family through hell and they wouldn’t be doing anything about it until she was a corpse.
God, she needed air.
Phil jumped to his feet. “What if we don’t find the body for days? This waiting shit seems idiotic to me. We’re talking about using innocent women as bait. Nobody else sees a problem with this?”
Cassie glanced at Rick. She couldn’t agree more with Phil, but she trusted Rick and wanted to see what he had to say about it.
He stared out the window, then turned back to them, his jaw set. “Look, I know it seems cold, but it’s a risk we have to take. We don’t know where Steven’s going to go. There’s sixty parks. We can’t just close our eyes and pick one. We’ll alert the police in the areas, but other than that, we just need to wait for him to make a move.”
Shit. Cassie stared at her lap. He had a point. Where the hell would they start? What would they do? Fly the FBI’s jet around to every state? That wouldn’t do them any good.
Phil pointed toward the door. “We should be out there, trying to find him before he kills anyone else. That’s our fucking job.”
Cassie touched his hand. “They’re right. We don’t know which way he’ll head first. If we go north, he could be in the south. We need to wait until he makes a move, narrow down our choices.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, the words had tasted like vinegar spewing from her lips.
Phil slumped back down. “So we’re handing out a death sentence.”
“We’re not the one’s doing the killing.” Rick hung his head. “This is our best chance to catch him off guard. If we storm all these parks, our chances of catching him are slim. He’s too smart for that. He’ll also know that we have this notebook and will possibly change his plans altogether. We’d never catch him.”
“Enough,” Flemings said. “Let’s get on the phones. He could already be at one of these parks, waiting for his next victim to cross his path. Start with the closest ones on the list. It won’t be long now.”
~~~
Back at headquarters, Cassie took the list of parks and precincts in the south. Her jaw hurt from explaining again and again what was happening and what they needed to look out for. She scratched off the last number on her list and flopped back in her chair.
Flemings’ phone rang. “Everyone shut the hell up!”
The room went quiet.
Cassie stared at him. Really?
He held the phone to his ear, writing on his notepad. “All right. We’ll be in touch.” He hung up. “They found a body.”
There was a hint of excitement in his tone that made Cassie queasy. “Female hiker and her dog, up in Massachusetts. Large bite wounds on her thighs and large dog prints around the area. It’s our guy.”
“He went north?” Hill stared at the map of the states they’d put up. “Maybe he’s trying to get us to think he’s going for the border. How long ago did the murder take place?”
Flemings eyed his notepad. “They’re estimating one or two hours at most. How long would it take to get to Massachusetts from here?”
Cassie did some quick calculations in her head. “Five hours by car. Four if you take the ferry across to Bridgeport.”
Rick glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s 9:00 AM, so that sounds right. He’s back on the road by now.” He studied the list of parks, then looked at the map. “Where is our boy going next?” He tapped his finger against his jaw. “Flemings, any word from Atlanta yet?”
Flemings continued to look at his notepad, scowling.
The man needed medication. What the hell was wrong with him? Just because he couldn’t come up with anything, he was going to ignore everyone who did?
Hill rolled his eyes at his partner. “I’ll call and check.” He strode away from the group while he dialed.
He murmured into his cell for a few minutes then hung up. “They found a place owned by Josh Meyer. They’re on their way to check it out now.”
Rick slapped a desk with his palm. He rushed to the map, pointing out the locations. “So far it seems what Gary said was true. With Steven losing two dogs, he’ll probably want to get more. My bet is sooner or later he will need to go back down south. He’ll need to get more supplies, steroids for the dogs, depending on how much he had stockpiled at his center. He thinks he’s smarter than us. Thinks he’ll be able to stay in the US without us finding him. My guess is he’s going west next. Get us as far from I-95 as he can, then he’ll double back and go home before we even realize he’s changed directions.”
Not exactly a sure thing, but Cassie was with him. “He probably won’t want to wait too long to make another kill. He’d want us panicky, rushing around from park to park. The closest to the west from the Massachusetts park would be the two in Pennsylvania: one in Dubois and one near Newcastle. There's also the two in Ohio near Columbus and Cleveland.”
Flemings snorted. “You guys are pulling this out of you – ”
Hill stepped in front of him. “I agree. Let's move on it.”
Cassie hid her snicker with a cough as Flemings turned fifty shades of red.
Rolling a chair in front of a computer, Hill’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Massachusetts to Pennsylvania takes about seven to eight hours for either park. Massachusetts to Ohio somewhere around twelve hours.”
“But which one do we go to?” Hank asked.
The room fell silent. Cassie had an idea, but waited, not knowing if the agents had some of their own. Everyone stared at the map. You could almost smell the grease of the wheels turning in every brain.
“Cassie,” Hill said. “If it wasn’t for you getting this notebook, we’d be running to Massachusetts as we speak. You have any thoughts?”
“I’d think since he killed in Massachusetts, he’d want to get farther than a state away before he killed again or we’d get too close, too quick.”
She turned her back on Flemings, cutting him off from the group. Childish, yes, but having him stare at her like she was a four-headed giraffe wasn’t helping her thinking process. “Steven knew who his victims were. He had to know his last one was a postal worker, which means, he knew this case would go under federal jurisdiction. That the FBI would take it over.”
“So,” Flemings said behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “So he would know that there would now be a hell of a lot more manpower involved. Killing in Massachusetts and then in Pennsylvania seems really stupid to me. We’d be on his tail, right behind him. My gut says he’d go to Ohio. Which park there? I don’t know. They’re both about the same size, both allow
dogs. And each one has three X’s marked on his maps. I think we’d have to split up and go to both.”
Hill grinned at her. “Everyone agree with that?”
Nods all around except from Flemings, who left the room in a huff.
Rick came up behind her. “Nancy Drew strikes again.” He ran a hand up her side as he passed.
She jumped, her skin warming. What the hell was he thinking? She looked around. Had anybody seen that?
“You all right, Cass?” Phil asked, a frown plastered across his face.
Crap. She forced a smile and hoped her cheeks hadn’t turned red. “Ah, yeah. Just tweaked my back.” So lame.
Flemings stared at Rick from the doorway.
“You have a problem?” Rick asked.
Flemings sneered at him. “Not at all. Just noticing you haven’t changed much, even after all these years.”
What the hell was Flemings talking about? Is that why they hated each other, because of a woman? Was all of this because Rick couldn’t keep his pants on?
“Fuck you, Flemings,” Rick said. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”
She cringed. Not good. None of them had slept, tension was high. They needed to go.
“Let’s concentrate on the case,” Rick continued. “I think we should call up the precincts and parks in both Pennsylvania and Ohio. Get them a bit more on alert.”
Flemings took a step toward him, his body tense. “It doesn’t matter what you think. You’re not in charge.”
Hill jumped between them, shoving his hands into each man’s chest. “Both of you knock it off. I agree with you, Sanders. Call them.”
His face purple, Flemings pulled his phone from his pocket. “We don’t want Steven to get away with another victim, so make it clear to them a lot more people will die if he knows we’re onto him. No sirens, or fireworks of any kind, nobody playing a hero. I’ll call and get some undercovers headed their way.” He curled his lip at Hill. “This goes wrong, I’m blaming it on you.”
What the hell? Cassie wanted to shoot off her mouth and bash this guy off the stallion he rode in on. It wasn’t just him in charge, it was both he and his partner.
“Flemings, a word, please.” Hill strode into the hall.
Without meeting anyone’s eyes, Flemings followed him.
Five agonizing minutes later they came back. Flemings sat in a chair, his gaze glued to his shoes. Hill cleared his throat. “This is how we’re going to split up. Hank, obviously you can’t come because you need to run this department, but if you wouldn’t mind Phil going to Columbus with Flemings and getting everyone up to speed, we’d really appreciate it.”
“That’s fine with me. This was always a quiet town, if I need to I can get a few detectives from another precinct to help me out.”
Cassie went rigid. What about her? Would they leave her behind? How were they even letting them stay on the case, it wasn’t their jurisdiction.
“Awesome, thank you,” Hill said. “Cassie, you and Rick will come with me to Cleveland.”
Flemings muttered from his chair. “Both parks are large. I think we’re spread pretty thin, so we’ll need to keep in constant contact with each other and watch our asses at all times.” He eyed Cassie. “Oh, and just so you know, I got clearance for both you and Phil to cross state lines.”
Cassie stuck her tongue in her cheek. The man did have connections.
“If he spots any of us and gets by, he’s going to know we found the book,” Rick added. “This will be our best shot at surprising him.”
Hill clapped. “All right, let’s go get him.”
The room came to life with a stampede of footsteps and rustling as everyone grabbed their gear. Cassie shut her eyes. She didn’t want to think what would happen if they didn’t get him in Ohio. If he wasn’t at either park. She couldn’t help it though. What if Izzy’s killer disappeared? What if he slipped through their fingers?
The image of her father weeping on the ground, blood dripping from his head, brought on a surge of determination. Her gaze went to the map on the wall. They would get Steven, and if for any reason they didn’t get him today, there were still fifty-nine parks left on his list.
No matter what happened, she vowed Steven Bailey wouldn’t be free long enough to make it back to Georgia. He wouldn’t be going home, at least not on her watch.
CHAPTER 40
Steven Bailey parked near the back of a highway rest stop. He watched crowds of people hustling from the lot to the building and back. Perfect. Plenty of distracted folks and cars to swap with. He wasn’t too worried about the manhunt. Most of these people had been driving for hours, too tired or needing the bathroom to nose about.
Just in case, he slipped on a baseball hat and dark sunglasses. He sauntered inside, ordered six grilled chicken sandwiches from a fast food place, then headed back to his truck.
A black Expedition caught his eye as it pulled into a neighboring slot. A group of teenagers climbed out, laughing and pushing one another.
“You have no idea where the hell we are, do you?” a chubby girl said to one of the boys. “We’ve been driving for hours and haven’t left the state yet.”
“Relax.” He nudged her arm with his elbow. “We don’t need to be at Missy’s till tomorrow anyway. We’ll get directions inside. If it’s too far, we’ll find a motel and leave in the morning.”
“I’m starving,” another girl complained, slinging a bag over her shoulder.
Steven kept his eyes on the ground as they filed past him toward the neon lights of the rest stop. There was one guy in a matching Expedition on the other side of the parking lot. His head was back, mouth open, dead asleep when Steven had done his drive around. This would be the one.
The lot was filled, but the kid’s truck was backed up to an empty field in the same row Steven had parked, about ten cars down. He pretended to drop his food bag and within seconds he had the kids’ license plate in his hand. He tucked it into his jacket and strolled to the other side of the lot where he’d seen the sleeping guy’s matching vehicle.
He walked by, peeking into the truck’s tinted windows. The driver’s mouth still hung open as he snored. Exhaust fumes floated from the muffler and Jazz music blared. Steven shook his head. What a tool.
Once again, he pretended to drop his food bag. This time he tried to move a bit faster since he wasn’t hidden from view. He swapped the plate in his jacket for the one on drool man’s truck then headed back toward the teenager’s vehicle.
Not seeing the kids, he kneeled down behind their truck and attached snoring man’s plate to the bumper.
“Hey, Mister?” A suspicious voice called out. “What are you doing back there?”
A tall teenage boy came around the back. He glared at Steven, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Fuck. What did they do? Run across the lot? Steven stood up, screwdriver grasped in his hand. The two girls and another boy came around after their friend. There were too many for him to dispose of without causing a scene. He needed to think fast.
“I-I-I needed,” Steven stammered. He pointed at the Pennsylvania plate. “For m-my collections.” He dropped his eyes to the ground and hunched his shoulders. Then for added drama he jerked his head like he had a nervous tick.
“Back the fuck up, bro,” the tall kid said. “Someone call the police.” He grabbed Steven’s arm.
The chubby girl stepped in. “No, wait. I think there’s something wrong with him. He’s slow,” she whispered and pried the boy’s hand from Steven’s arm. She slowed her words. “Are you okay? Are you here with someone?”
Steven closed his eyes as she touched his hand. You fucking cow, don’t touch me. The screwdriver shook in his fingers. “M-my dad. Pl-ple-please don’t tell him, he’ll be really mad.” He opened his eyes and forced fear into them.
She pressed her lips together. “Let him go. He didn’t steal your license plate. No harm done.”
The tall kid glanced at his bumper.
Ste
ven tensed, ready in case he needed to do some damage to them and get away if the kid realized it wasn’t his plate.
The kid waved a hand. “Fine. Go on. Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Steven shuffled away with a limp. He could feel their eyes boring into his back.
“What a fucking weirdo,” one boy muttered.
“Whatever.” Another girl’s voice. “Can we just get in and go? I’m freezing. How far is the motel?”
Doors opened and someone said, “Just a mile, off the next exit.”
Steven smiled. Jackpot.
After the teenagers drove away, he hurried back to his truck. A light snow flurried down on his windshield. He climbed into the back seat and injected steroids into the thigh muscles of his two remaining dogs.
When he’d first begun trying to breed his perfect killing machine he had trouble getting the size he wanted. After months of experiments he’d finally come up with the perfect concoction.
He climbed into the front seat as the animals scarfed down the chicken sandwiches he’d bought them. Neither dog was ready. They were green. If only he had Thor. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. Mason killed more than just a best friend, he’d taken away a slice of Steven’s security.
His upper arm throbbed. He settled back in the driver’s seat and stripped off layers of clothes. Blood seeped through the ace bandage he’d wrapped around it. Shit. He took it off. Pain shot through him, and dots spotted his vision. He took a breath and looked at the damage. The punctures he’d left open, oozed with fresh blood.
The perfect lines of blue sutures were still there. He sagged back against the seat. They’d ripped out in his stabbing frenzy on the girl in Massachusetts and he’d had to stitch them again.
He couldn’t believe John Logan’s dog had taken out his Athena. But it had been his own fault. He shouldn’t have gotten involved. He broke his cardinal rule: never get physically between two dogs when they are fighting.
When he tried to pull Snow off of Athena, his dog mistakenly latched onto his arm. In doing so, Athena left her neck exposed and Snow jumped at the opportunity to rip her throat out.
