EPILOGUE
Months later we had moved through several cases, most involving another killer after revenge or seeking justice for some cause. But my first case with the Behavioral Analysis Unit would never leave me. The case of the ten bodies buried in a small rural town of Salt Lick, Kentucky, of a man and daughter who felt imperfect measured against godly standards, and who felt it their divine right to execute punishment on those who fell short.
I sat at my desk in Quantico finishing up paperwork from a recent case, but my mind was still on the victims of Salt Lick and Sarasota.
The Sarasota PD had concluded their investigation into the shooting of Robinson, and Paige’s shot was ruled a good one. Officer Bryant was found guilty of tampering with evidence, was suspended, and would be serving time.
Amanda’s body was being buried in the lot behind the church, and Keith Knowles made his stand clear with the words, man doesn’t have the right to judge, nor truly forgive.
Despite the irony that came with him being a former priest, and a confessional occupant, he was right. We are all people, all alike, fragile and strong. And regardless that these attributes came in different forms, shapes, and sizes, they are nonetheless what make us unique. And for that, who are any of us to point the finger at another man?
As for Bingham, he faced lethal injection. With connections tying him to twenty murders, there was no way for him to talk himself out of this. Although I supposed for a man like Bingham, he probably continued to scheme escape despite the odds against him.
Sean Atwood who had served as the communicator between Amanda and Bingham was charged with conspiracy to commit a crime. It was still being debated in the courts, though, because it was hard to prove that he knew the contents of the letters.
As for the victims in Sarasota, we were able to obtain identities for three out of the five that had up until this point remained nameless. We requested DNA from Tammy Sherman, the aunt to Jenkins’ daughter, and were able to give the man closure. He said he would finally have some peace in his life.
In Salt Lick, eight out of ten victims were identified including Robert Royster, Earl’s brother, and Kurt McCartney.
I closed the file folder and noticed Jack walking toward me with a cigarette perched in his mouth.
“Special Agent Fisher, are you finished with your report yet?”
I smiled. I had earned a name. It only took nearly being killed and a few more cases, but it never felt so great to have a name. “Almost there.”
“Alright, Brandon but they’re serving wings and martinis tonight down at the pool hall.” He took the cigarette out for a second and smiled.
“I’ll catch up. One minute.”
As Jack walked away, I realized I was satisfied with my choices in life. As for the rest of it, the things that didn’t belong on any FBI report, Deb had moved out by the time I had returned from Sarasota. She hadn’t called but I had received a letter from a lawyer with divorce papers. But even though life presented tougher situations than any job could, I had made it through a stronger person.
“You coming or what?”
I turned to see Paige. She smiled at me, her eyes happy and soft, vulnerable yet courageous.
“It’s going to be time to call it a night before we get there.”
“Let’s go.” I closed the file and got up.
Paige had become so much more to me than a team member. She had become my best friend. She had seen me both at my worst and my best, and loved me in each scenario. I knew it hurt her deeply that I couldn’t commit to a relationship right now, but I also made it clear no one can know the future.
I wrapped an arm around her, and we headed for some cheap wings and beer. Maybe Jack would even give me another chance to earn my twenty back.
Silent Graves
the second in the Brandon Fisher FBI series
coming late 2013
Watch the author’s website to stay updated
www.carolynarnold.net
Note to Readers
Thank you for reading ELEVEN. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear from you now that you have finished reading the story. I can be reached by email at [email protected], but please no attachments.
It is because of you reader, that I will continue to write and share the creations of my imagination in the written word. If you have found errors of fact or location I would like to hear about them. As for any errors you might imagine in spelling, punctuation or capitalization, please accept this as the variance permitted with the existence of many conventions and styles of writing. There are also times my characters may use incorrect grammar, abbreviations or misspelled words in their speech, but know this is intentional whether it is to assign an accent or a way of expression. I will reply to all emails that respect these aspects.
And with your email, I will send you announcements for my upcoming novels. Again, thank you for reading this story and I hope you’ll explore the other works I have to offer.
Included at the end of this book, have a sneak peek of TIES THAT BIND (A Madison Knight Novel).
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF
TIES THAT BIND (A Madison Knight Novel)
Detective Madison Knight concluded the case of a strangled woman an isolated incident. But when another woman’s body is found in a park killed with the same line of neckties, she realizes they’re dealing with something more serious.
Despite mounting pressure from the Sergeant and Chief to close the case even if it means putting an innocent man behind bars, and a partner who is more interested in saving his marriage than stopping a potential serial killer, Madison may have to go it alone if there’s not going to be another victim.
“Police procedural at its best...after 30 years as a cop... the most technically correct police procedural novel I have ever read...”
—Zach Fortier, Author of CurbChek
“Arnold’s writing style is very close to JD Robb’s “In Death” series...”
—Karen DeLabar, Blogger and Book Reviewer
READ AN EXCERPT>>>
SNEAK PEEK OF TIES THAT BIND
Chapter 1
Someone died every day. Madison was left to make sense of it. She ducked under the yellow tape and surveyed the scene. The two-story, white-sided house would be deemed average any other day, but today the dead body inside made it of interest to the Stiles PD and a few curious onlookers who gathered in small clusters on the sidewalk.
She’d never seen the officer securing the perimeter before but she knew his type. The way he stood there with his back straight, one hand resting on his holster, the other gripping a clipboard, identified him as an eager recruit.
He held up a hand as she approached. “This is a closed crime scene.”
She unclipped the badge from the waist of her pants and held it front of him. He studied it as if it was counterfeit. She respected those who took their jobs seriously—on a regular day—but not when she functioned on limited sleep and the humidity level topped ninety-five percent at ten-thirty in the morning. “Detective K-N-I-” Her name died on her lips when the front door opened and Sergeant Winston stepped out. She would have groaned audibly if he wasn’t closing the distance between them so quickly. She preferred her boss behind a desk.
Winston gestured for the young officer to let her in. He glared at her before leaving his post. She envied the fact he could leave.
“It’s about time you got here.” Winston fished a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped at his receding hairline. The extra few inches exposed a large forehead that could have served as a solar panel. “I was just about to assign the lead to Grant.”
Terry Grant was her partner of five years and her junior by three. Damn if he’d give the lead to Terry.
“Where have you been anyway?”
She disregarded his inquiry, jacked a thumb in the rookie’s direction. “Who’s the new guy?”
“Don’t change the subject, Knight.”
She’d have to offer
some sort of an explanation for being late. “Well, boss, you know me. Up all night slinging back shooters.”
“Don’t get smart with me.”
She flashed him a cocky smile and pulled a Hershey bar from a front pant pocket. The chocolate had already softened from the heat. It didn’t really matter. She took a bite. Heaven. She spoke with a partial mouthful. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Call came in. I was nearby. Thought someone should respond.” He went to step over the tape to the sidewalk, but it wasn’t a smooth maneuver. His foot got caught up in the band. He hopped on the other leg to adjust his balance and straightened out. He continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed. “The body’s upstairs, main bedroom. She was strangled.” He pointed the tip of a key toward her. “Keep me updated.” He depressed a button on his key fob. The department-issued SUV’s lights flashed. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
As if he needed to say that. Sometimes she wondered if he valued talk more than action.
With the Sergeant gone, she could feel the eyes of the young officer on her. He stood there judging her from a distance. What was his problem anyway? She took another bite as she turned her attention to the house.
Terry came out. “Too bad you had to show. I think I was just about to get the lead.”
“I’d have to be the one dead for that to happen.” She allowed a small smile to show as she brushed past him.
“You look like crap.”
The smile faded. She stopped walking and turned around. Every one of his blond hairs was in place, making her self-conscious of her short cut, wake-up-and-wear-it style. And his cheeks held a healthy glow, no doubt from his morning two-mile run. She hated people who could do mornings.
“What did you get? Two hours sleep?”
“Three, but who’s counting?” She took another large bite.
“You were up reviewing evidence from the last case, weren’t you?”
She didn’t feel inclined to answer.
“You can’t change the past.”
She didn’t feel hungry anymore and wrapped up what was left. “Let’s just focus on this case.”
“Fine, if that’s how it’s going be. Victim’s name is Laura Saunders. She’s thirty-two. Single. Officer Higgins was the first on scene. Call came in from the vic’s employer, Southwest Welding Products, where she worked as the receptionist.”
“What would make the employer call?”
“She didn’t show for her shift at eight. They tried reaching her first, but when they didn’t get an answer, they sent a security officer over. He found the door ajar, called downtown. Higgins was here by eight forty-five.”
“Who—”
“The security officer? Terrence Owens. And don’t worry we took a formal statement, let him go. Background showed notta, not even a speeding ticket. We can function when you’re not around.”
She cocked her head to the side.
“He also testifies to the fact he never stepped one foot into the place.” Terry paused and laughed lightly. “Said he’s watched enough cop shows to know it would contaminate the crime scene. You get all those people watching those stupid TV shows, and they all think they can solve murder.”
“Is Owens the one who made the call downtown?”
“Actually, procedure for them is to route everything through administration. A Sandra Butler made the call. She’s the office manager.”
“So an employee doesn’t show for work, they send someone to your house?”
“She said it’s part of their safety policy.”
“At least they’re a group of people inclined to think positively.” Madison felt sweat droplets run down her back. Disgusting. She moved toward the house.
“You can’t take that in there.” The young officer came hurrying over. He shoved the clipboard under his arm, tucked a pen behind an ear. He jabbed a pointed finger toward the chocolate bar.
She glanced down at it. Chocolate oozed out of a corner. He had a point so she handed it to him. His jaw tightened. She forced a smile and patted his shoulder. “Good job.” He walked away with the bar dangling from the wrapper he held pinched between two fingers mumbling something indiscernible.
Terry said, “You can be so wicked sometimes.”
“Why thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. And since when do you eat chocolate for breakfast?”
“Oh shut up.” She punched him in the shoulder. He smirked and rubbed his arm, same old sideshow. She headed into the house with him following behind her.
“Stairs are to the right.”
“Holy crap, it’s freezing in here.” The sweat on her skin chilled, and she found it a refreshing welcome.
“Yep, a hundred and one outside, sixty inside.” Two steps from the top, Terry spoke over a shoulder. “And just a forewarning. It’s not your typical strangulation.”
“Come on Terry, you’ve seen one, you’ve—” She stopped talking, stood in the bedroom doorway. Terry was right.
SNEAK PEEK OF TIES THAT BIND
Chapter 2
Even with ten years of experience as a cop, Madison had never seen anything quite like this. Maybe in New York City they were accustomed to this type of murder scene but not here in Stiles, where the population was shy of half a million and the Major Crimes division only boasted six detectives. The hairs rose on her arms, not from the air conditioning, but from the chill of death.
She nodded a greeting to Cole Richards, the ME, who reciprocated with a small bob of his head.
Laura Saunders lay on her back in the middle of a double bed, arms folded over her torso. But the one thing that stood out, and this would be what Terry tried to warn her about was that she was naked. The only exception was a man’s necktie bound tightly around her neck. Just that and her brown hair, approximately shoulder length, provided contrast between her pale skin and the beige sheets.
“And she wasn’t raped?”
Terry rubbed at the back of his neck the way he always did when the questions outweighed the answers. “Not leaning that way, which is what makes it strange.”
“And she’s in her own house,” Madison finished the line of thought.
Most strangulation victims were dressed, or when rape was a factor, normally the body was found in an alley or hotel room. For Laura to be found here made it personal. Jealous lover perhaps?
The entire scenario caused Madison pain and regret—pain over how life was snuffed out prematurely, regret that she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. Madison thought for facing death on a regular basis she should be callous in regards to her mortality. But the truth was it scared her more with every passing day. Nothing was for certain. And with this case, the fact the vic was only two years younger than herself, affected her more than she cared to acknowledge.
“There was no evidence of a break-in. Nothing seems to be missing. There’s jewelry on her dresser and electronics are still in place downstairs. There is no evidence of a struggle. Her clothes were strewn on the main level.” Terry kneaded the tips of his fingers into the base of his neck now.
Madison moved further into the room to study Laura and the tie more closely. It looked expensive, silk perhaps, and it was blue-striped. “So she knew her killer and he waited until she was at her most vulnerable. Maybe it was some sort of sex game that got out of hand. Erotic asphyxiation?”
Her focus went to a shelving unit on the far wall, which housed some folded clothes, an alarm clock, and a framed photograph.
Terry said, “But then, why not call us? He must have something to hide—”
Richards’ assistant excused himself as he walked through the bedroom. Madison could never remember the guy’s name.
Terry continued, “Doesn’t coincide with him posing her though. Say it wasn’t intentional? Put yourself in this guy’s place and things got out of hand. You would loosen the tie, shake her, but you wouldn’t pose her—”
“And the tie’s still bound tight.” She matched ey
es with her partner. “It almost seems premeditated but then it seems the killer felt regret. Otherwise why cross her arms over her torso? That could indicate a close relationship between Laura and her killer.”
Their discussion paused with the sound of a zipper as Cole Richards sealed the black bag around the young woman. As his assistant worked at getting the gurney out of the room, he addressed Richards: “I’ll wait in the hall.”
Richards nodded and looked to Madison.
“Winston confirmed you’re ruling cause of death as strangulation.”
“Yes. COD is asphyxiation due to strangulation. Her face shows signs of petechiae. Young fit women don’t normally show that unless they put up a fight. And there were also cuts to her wrists.”
“Cuts?”
“Yes.” Richards glanced at Terry. “Crime Scene is thinking cuffs. I don’t think they found them yet.”
Madison looked at the headboard. It consisted of black powder-coated vertical bars, and the paint was worn off a few of them. “So first she’s bound, and then he uncuffs her and poses her.” The thought chilled Madison, making her hairs rise again. “When are you placing time of death?”
“Between thirty to thirty-three hours ago based on the stage of rigor and body temperature.”
“So between two and five Sunday morning?” Terry smiled awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders when both pairs of eyes shot to him.
Sometimes Madison wondered how her partner’s mind worked.
Richards pried his attention back to Madison. “Of course, the fact it’s cold enough to hang meat in here makes it harder to pinpoint exactly.”
Madison noticed the light in Terry’s eyes at the recognition of the cliché saying. He knew she didn’t care for them and had proven himself an opportunist over the years. Whenever he could dish them out, he would. Whenever he could build on them, he would. She was tempted to cross the room and beat him, but instead rolled her eyes, projecting only the hint of a smile. She hated that she didn’t have enough restraint to ignore him altogether right now and had provided him some satisfaction with even a mild reaction.
Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series) Page 34
