The Esther Code

by Michael Danneman

  A young and very pretty brunette taps lightly on Jamie’s door. “Special Agent Golding?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, I’m Kim Hammond from Research. I found another murder with the same description. White male, 89, on October 19, 2011.”

  “No way! Where?”

  “New Orleans.”

  “Are we getting the file?”

  “Already done—they just faxed it over. Here is what I’ve got.” Kim hands a file off to Jamie.

  “Good work, thanks.”

  With a nod, Kim leaves the office, and Jamie picks up her office phone. She is connected to Whitehouse immediately.

  “Whitehouse, I need you to book me a flight to New Orleans for Friday.”

  “Fine. Do you want a window seat?”

  “No, but I need a return trip the same day.” Jamie informs him, ignoring his sarcasm.

  “OK.”

  Jamie can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Thanks.”

  She does not have time to waste dealing with Whitehouse. She is itching to open the new file. She compares the October date with the other dates. There is one in February, two in March, then September and October. Perhaps the killer likes the cooler weather. She carefully reads the newest file. Janos Kerekes, 89, married. Also strangled with a wire ligature. Murdered right at the front door of his house. His wife was home at the time and heard the knock. Someone called out to her to call 9-1-1 because her husband was having a heart attack. The wife is wheelchair-bound and did not see anything. They have a visiting assistant every day from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m., who helps them with activities of daily living and with light housework. The nursing assistant prepares dinner before she leaves. The murder took place at 6:30 p.m. Neither the wife nor the assistant reported any visitors or strange occurrences leading up to the murder.

  A note left at the scene had the initials “E.K.” in the middle and “a”…“spat”…“a” spaced along the bottom. No fingerprints. Police hypothesize that it was a random murder, maybe some sort of gang initiation. The Kerekes lived in a low income, high crime part of town. “The neighborhood has changed over the years,” was a comment one of their sons made. “I’ve been trying to get them to move for some time, but the house is paid off, and my father would not hear of it. They have lived in the same house for over fifty years.”

  Jamie enters the initials and cryptic words into a computer program to see what words can be unscrambled. The program generates a long list of potential words of varying lengths. No cogent sentences use all of the letters. She will have to peruse the list and see if anything jumps out at her.

  The phone rings on her desk, and Jamie answers, “Special Agent Golding here.”

  “Hey, you ready?” Seth’s smooth voice comes over the phone. She knows him well enough to hear his grin.

  “Whoa, it can’t be six already! I just got started.” Jamie continues to read through the random words. At this point she is trying to use all of the words from each of the notes. She knows it is a long shot, but maybe she will catch something.

  “I know you love your work, but Jamie it’s almost six. You need to eat. Come on.”

  “Just pick me up something and drop it by.“ Jamie tries to remember which letter she has left out in her attempt to make sense of the notes.

  “You need to take a break. It will be my treat, okay?”

  Jamie recognizes the stubborn tone in his voice. “Alright.” Maybe a break could stop the oncoming headache and refresh her perspective. “Where we going?”

  “How about we just drive together. The car is warm and ready. We’ll just go to the pub so it will be quick.”

  “Warm car” finally convinces Jamie. “Fine, you win. I’m on my way down.”

  Seth attempts a British butler’s accent. “I live to please you.”

  Jamie hangs up, gathers her things, and leaves her office in a hurry.

  She walks past a few offices that have agents still working within. Jamie knows she will not be working a late night alone.

  Jamie sees Seth waiting outside of her building, washed in the dying sunlight.

  “Hey, I’m glad you came. You already look exhausted.”

  “That bad, eh?” Jamie delivers him a playful poke in the shoulder.

  “That hurt!” Seth rubs his arm as though in actual pain. Then he states seriously, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just meant that you need a break, and I’m glad you’re taking it with me.”

  “Of course! Besides, Chris is busy tonight.” A chill wind disrupts her thoughts. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold out here.”

  “That, and my stomach is growling.” Seth offers his arm and leads her to the BMW waiting at the curb. He opens the car door for her and watches Jamie gracefully slide into the seat. Seth slips into the driver’s seat and starts to maneuver through the campus roads and out past the guard booth and gate. Although there is quiet between them, it is not uncomfortable. They do not have to fill every second with conversation.

  Jamie finally breaks the silence. “So how are things going at the lab?”

  “A few of the guys are testing my limits. Normally I don’t like to rein the employees in too tight—it’s not my style.”

  “Really? I remember you were quite the task master as a T.A. in biology.”

  “I was young and eager.”

  “So what are they trying to get away with?”

  “The usual. Coming to work late, leaving early, taking extra long lunches. It’s always the same group, the repeat offenders.”

  Seth stops at a red light. Jamie carefully watches some pedestrians cross the street.

  “I guess they’re not as dedicated to the job as you are.”

  The light turns, and Seth takes a left around the corner. “Yeah, I have to remind them of the importance of their work. Our forensics can put away a criminal and save lives. Nothing can be more satisfying than discovering the real bad guy and stopping them for good.”

  “Hate to break your bubble, Captain America, but they do get away sometimes.” She admires Seth for his dedication to catching criminals, but there is a reality he sometimes forgets. There is a legal process that does not always keep the bad guys in jail.

  “I know. Of course, we can only analyze what you guys bring us. There are still cases that bother me because we might be able to prove someone was at the scene, but we don’t get the hard evidence to back it up. I guess that’s why I do what I can so that as few as possible slip through the cracks.”

  “Speaking of cracks,” Jamie points out, “there’s a parking spot!”

  “Perfect.”

  They enter the warm pub and find an empty table for two. When the waitress arrives they order without even looking at the menu. They both have their favorites. Minutes later, the waitress brings their drinks.

  Jamie sighs and sips the beer that the waitress put before her. “So. I had a nightmare last night.”

  “You didn’t say anything this morning.”

  “I know. I was hoping to forget about it. Last night, Chris told me about how he had a patient who’d had a fight with a circular saw. Obviously, the saw won.” Jamie pauses, and Seth grimaces at the thought.

  “I know, really. I guess I am just shocked at how I am affected more by a complete stranger whose fingers were cut off and then reattached than I am about my last case. You know, the one with the psychopath who dismembered the guy and stored him in his freezer.”

  “Must be your fear of table saws.” Seth also takes a drink from his beer, then adds, “Seriously, I wouldn’t worry about it. You have a very different job from Chris, and the two of you tackle your work in different ways. Besides, I would have nightmares about that too if it was the last thing I heard before bed.”

  Jamie laughs. “Good point. I really shouldn’t let him tell me those things right before I go to sleep.”

  Seth nods, taking another sip of beer. The waitress interrupts them by bringing a turkey burger for Jamie and a large bowl of chili, no cheese
or sour cream, for Seth. After the waitress leaves, Jamie picks the tomato off her burger, then picks up the conversation again.

  “You see, he sent me an email today. I don’t know. It was weird. An email invitation to a fancy dinner with all of these cutesy names in it. And that was after he left a note this morning with the same invitation. I mean, an email? He is promising me another amazing romantic date to make up for all the other times it didn’t work out.” Jamie stops to take a huge bite out of the burger. “And now I’ve got this case.”

  She chews thoughtfully before continuing, “I haven’t given him an answer yet. Hey, how are things with Marcy?”

  Margie. Seth tries to overlook this fact and replies, “She is okay, but nothing really special.” He eats a spoonful of hot chili and tears off a bit of his side of corn bread. “So tell me about this new case.” Her immediate frown speaks volumes to Seth.

  “Well, it’s really strange. There have been a total of five murders. All the victims are eighty years or older. I cannot figure out why someone would want to kill a bunch of old, white men.” She picks up the dill pickle and slowly munches it.

  “That is strange. All in the same area?”

  Jamie puts down her turkey burger. “The murders are scattered around the U.S.” She pauses, then adds, “I wish they were all in the same place; might make my job easier. But no, all five happened in different locations.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  “I am actually heading to Chicago tomorrow. Friday I’m going to New Orleans, and then back here to spend the weekend researching the files. I’ll be in Schenectady Monday morning.”

  “Schenectady?”

  “The first murder happened there. Well, we think that’s the first murder.” Jamie munches a French fry.

  “You weren’t joking that they are across the country. That’s a good haul from Chicago. Don’t serial killers usually stay closer to home?”

  “Like I said, this is a very strange case.”

  Two women walking into the bar catch Jamie’s eye. As they take off their coats, Jamie sees that they are dressed to kill. They wear stilettos, tight black mini-skirts, and loose-fitting halter-tops. Both women saunter past Jamie’s table and up to the bar behind her. She watches Seth, who does not even flinch or divert his eyes from her own face.

  “You’re not turning gay are you?”

  “What?” Seth is comically incredulous. “Why would you ask that?”

  "You didn't see those women? Even I was staring at them. Chris would have tried to hide it, but he still would have been obvious about checking them out. And, of course, he would think I didn't catch him. It would be funny, actually."

  Seth shrugs and responds, “I’m here with you—why would I look at them? Besides, I never get tired of talking to you.”

  Chapter 9

  Simon sits at a table at his favorite Starbucks. There is a Starbucks much closer to his home, but Simon prefers this one. This Starbucks sits at the end of a strip mall that has a major chain grocery store in the middle, surrounded by several mom-and-pop stores and a few other franchises. Outside, the parking lot is very busy, but that is not what makes this Starbucks attractive. Most of the orders at this Starbucks are to-go, allowing Simon to find a small table to himself against the wall. It is the perfect place to set up his laptop so that the screen is not visible to anyone walking past. Simon casually glances around to see if he will have to deal with any nosy neighbors. But those around him are too deeply entranced by their own laptops to care about Simon.

  He sets up his special black laptop. It is special because Simon only uses it when at a public Wi-Fi hotspot. He has made sure to never even turn on the computer at or near his house. When he is not using it, Simon keeps it carefully hidden in a locked file cabinet in a self-storage unit. He even takes the precaution of buying a brand new computer whenever he has finished research on the next victim. He pays cash for each laptop. Simon completely destroys the computer before he strikes. He knows that no matter how many times someone scrubs clean a hard drive, the Feds can see every keystroke that person has ever made, every website they ever visited, and every email they ever received.

  Simon accesses the Internet and loads Google maps. He types in the next victim's address. In seconds, a clear image of the home appears. Simon smiles to see the old man’s twenty-year-old Buick in the driveway on the satellite image.

  The car is probably in the exact same spot right now.

  The house is a traditional, two-story colonial home in an old, established neighborhood in the Buckhead area in Atlanta, Georgia.

  He studies the tall, thick hardwoods and pines that surround the home. It is so dense that Simon can hardly see the neighbors’ houses on either side. He checks his notes. A unique feature of the house is that the driveway extends past the right side of the house toward a two-car garage that is perpendicular to the street and connects to the breakfast room at the back of the house. Perfect. His plan to gain access to the house is based on this very useful feature.

  Laughter pulls him away from the computer. Most of the crowd is gone now, and a blonde girl is flirting with her male coworker behind the counter. Together they wipe down the counters and clean the machines. They are so busy with each other that Simon feels secure in his privacy. Yet he still remains mindful of the noises and action around him. He sips his coffee and returns to his computer.

  As he peruses his notes, Simon thinks to himself that this will be the easiest kill of all. The old man rarely leaves his house. He lives with his wife of over fifty years. No maid, no other family members, and no visitors. All Simon has to do is catch the old man when his chubby wife is at water aerobics. There is nothing like a bunch of fat old women bouncing in the water at the YMCA, thinking that they are exercising. They probably get more exercise from walking across the parking lot, changing into their bathing suits, and getting into the pool, than they actually do in the water. He assumes it gives them something to look forward to other than doctor visits. In this case, it provides the perfect window of opportunity for Simon to get his business done.

  One more down. Although Simon had at first felt a sense of euphoria from his work, it has now become a tedious task. An annoying chore that never seems to be finished. It is unsettling to Simon that the excitement so quickly dissipated into a feeling of burden. The nightmares do not help either. He should be sleeping better, knowing that he is destroying the monsters.

  In a way, it does feel good to get so much “work” done, Simon thinks to himself. His progress is better than he could have imagined. And there is no guilt associated with any of these acts. Instead, each one brings him a step closer to freedom from the demons. The rest of the world seems so loose and carefree, but Simon is suffocating in the tight grip of the monsters. He will be done soon enough, and then he can move on and be finally free.

  As he takes another drink of coffee, his eyes scan the name “Martin Rossi.” Mr. Rossi will be so easy to eliminate that it could be done at any time. Well, any Tuesday between 9 a.m. and 11 a.m.

  Glancing at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen, Simon decides that he has spent long enough at the Starbucks. No one marks his departure, neither the employees nor the constant stream of customers in and out of the store. Just the way Simon likes it.

  Chapter 10

  Seth Cooper sits at his desk, looking over the control results of one of the toxicology analyzers. The work is not exactly glamorous, but someone has to do it. The results to several cases are stacked neatly in one corner. Once again, he must double-check the work of others. Every once in a while, someone makes a mistake. Forensics is very tedious, but a botched sample can sway the outcome of the investigation, or even turn a court case. Seth works through most of his lunches to stay on top of the mountains of paper. But today he lets his mind wander. Jamie occupies his thoughts once again.

  He remembers the first moment he laid eyes on Jamie Golding. It was at the University of Maryland, where Seth was a t
eacher’s assistant and lab instructor for several science courses. This is not an unusual fate for a graduate student in Forensic Science. It was one fall semester that Jamie Golding took an undergraduate biology class as a prerequisite to get into the Masters in Forensic Psychology program. Seth was her TA and lab instructor.

  He can still see her walking into his first lab session and taking a seat at the front of the class. Her satin black hair framed her beautiful face and accentuated her hazel eyes. Seth admired her tight jeans, which were intriguingly set off by a baggy university sweatshirt. Seth was definitely interested to know more about her. He also noticed that Jamie wore a gold necklace with a Jewish star. During their time in the class together, Seth and Jamie discovered that they had plenty in common. Even though Forensic Psych and Forensic Science share only a common term, Seth was able to spend more time talking with Jamie after classes or study sessions.

  Ever since that first lab, Seth had been trying to get her attention. He could not help himself; he was stricken. Unfortunately, Seth’s attempts to engage Jamie led to an uphill battle. The timing just never seemed to work. At first, Jamie saw him as only an instructor and could not bridge the student/teacher gap. At the end of the semester, she seemed to relax around him, but she was dating someone else. He invited her into his circle of friends, introducing her to other people who were studying different types of forensics. There was Barry Shapiro, or “Shap,” who also went on to the FBI crime lab, and Steve Lansing, who went to an independent lab, and Richie Nguyen, who moved back to California. It was a fun group, while it lasted. Right under Seth’s nose, Jamie broke up with her boyfriend and started dating Steve Lansing. After that, Seth began to date one of Jamie’s Forensic Psychology friends, Karen. He was not going to sit around and wait for Jamie.