by Robin Mahle
“What do you mean?” Nick merged onto the 95. “Sent what over?”
“He and Kate asked me to take a look at the two victims’ profiles and see what I can come up with. They don’t have much yet, but I might be able to shed some light on the unsub. He’s left a hell of a calling card on his victims.”
That was putting it mildly. “No doubt. So, Jameson’s got you looking into it? And what about Lyons? Is he onboard?”
“So far as I know. Jameson put a call in to him this morning and the four of us had a brief chat. They were still waiting on some of the forensics, but he seemed to be happy to have me take a look and offer an opinion.”
“Great.” Nick fell silent for a moment.
“You okay?” Georgia asked after too long of a pause.
“Oh yeah. I just left headquarters. Got everything organized over there. I was just debating on whether or not to head into the office—make sure I still have one.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Nick.” It apparently was not lost on her that he’d had far too much time on his hands lately and getting back into the swing of things was probably best. “I won’t be back until Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on how things go in Philly, but I’ll be sure and send Jameson my findings, if you want to give him a heads-up.”
She was giving him an even better excuse to go in and Nick was grateful for it. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go ahead and do that. Thanks. You have a safe flight and I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Okay, hon.”
“I love you,” Nick replied.
“You too. Bye.”
It didn’t take much prompting to nudge Nick over the fence when he was already teetering in that direction.
He pulled off the highway and headed toward the WFO. Within minutes, he was inside the lobby and making his way to the fourth floor. Nick spotted Kate leaning over the desk of Agent Vasquez. “Kate.” He carried on toward her as she turned at the sound of her name.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here today. I thought Monday was the official return?” With a hand at her hip, a wide smile revealed Kate’s genuine delight.
“It is. I just thought I’d go through my desk and clean out my office. You know, get ready for the new start.” He peeked over Kate’s shoulder. “Vasquez, nice to see you.”
“This place hasn’t been the same without you, Scarborough. It’ll be nice to see your ugly mug again.”
“Who are you calling ugly?” Nick smoothed his hair and straightened his button-down shirt. “Whatever.” He smiled. “It’ll be good to see your bright, shining, and lovely face again too.”
If Nick was attempting to flirt with Agent Vasquez, he was barking up the wrong tree. She had a girlfriend and there was no way Nick could compete with that, even if he’d wanted to.
“I’ve got to get back to work. I haven’t had a two-month vacation like some people.” Vasquez revealed an audacious grin and returned to her computer.
Nick reached for Kate’s shoulder. “You got a minute? I’d like to see Dwight too, if he’s here.”
“He’s here and we can spare some time.” Kate led the way to the back offices. “What’s going on? Why are you really here?”
Footfalls were all that sounded between them as they approached Dwight’s office until, finally, Nick spoke up. “I was wondering if you had heard anything from Campbell.”
Dwight was just coming out of his office when the three seemed to spot each other at once. “Scarborough? Thought you weren’t coming in until Monday.”
“He says he wants to clean up his office,” Kate replied with a skeptical smile. “You have a minute?”
“Sure. Let’s go inside.”
As they returned to Dwight’s office, he closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”
Nick leaned against the lateral file cabinets that ran the length of the west wall. “Has Campbell made any mention of how things will transition once I come back?”
“Haven’t you talked to him about it yet?” Dwight asked.
“No. Not exactly. I just wanted to get your guys’ take on it.”
“Well,” Dwight moved around to his desk, “he hasn’t said much to me about it. I really don’t know what he’s got planned.” A text appeared on his phone and he took a moment to glance at it. It must have jogged a memory because he immediately switched gears. Or maybe he was just trying to avoid the question. “By the way, we talked to Agent Lyons in Atlanta again this morning.”
“Georgia mentioned that you all were on a conference call with him,” Nick replied.
“We were, yes. Given the similarities of the victims’ profiles, I thought it might be a good idea to have her take a look at things early on. I know she’s going to be working in Philly for a few days, but I wanted to get her thoughts. So I put in a call to Lyons to ask about some of the remaining information we needed and made mention of it. He seemed completely on board. I don’t know if he’s worked with her in the past, but the two of them seemed familiar with one another.”
“Really?” Nick replied.
“That’s how it seemed. I mean, I didn’t ask for details.”
“I brought up Lyons last night at her place and again this morning. She made no mention of the fact that she knew him. Even when I told her that he and I worked together in Atlanta for a while.”
“Maybe it just didn’t occur to her to bring it up,” Kate replied.
Nick grunted. “Maybe.”
SEVEN
The saw blade whirled with fierce velocity and sliced through the lumber as though it were nothing more than a loaf of bread. The noise pierced Arlen’s ears while he pushed the pine along the table. Most of his colleagues wore headphones—in fact, it was a safety requirement—but no one was around and he likened the sound to that of his victims. He preferred to absorb their high-pitched screams rather than block them out. The pain was his punishment for what he was doing to them.
“Arlen!” the man shouted as he stood in the entrance of the milling area where several saws were lined up. “Shut it down.” He made a gesture to reiterate his command.
Arlen followed his supervisor’s instructions and cut the switch, watching the blade slow until its sharp teeth came to a halt. “Yes?” He raised his safety goggles. That rule, he followed, not wanting to suffer the consequences of a ricocheting piece of wood flinging toward his eyes.
The supervisor stood feet from him now and placed his hands inside his orange apron. “I need you to go on an install. This storm’s got people freaked out. Chances of it hitting us are slim, but they don’t want to take no chances. I need you to put up plywood on some windows. Can you do that?”
“Yes I can.”
“Good. I’ll send Pete with you. Go and get loaded up. Y’all are leaving in thirty minutes.” The supervisor began to walk away.
“Thank you, sir.”
Pete was a useless lump of a man as far as Arlen was concerned. He couldn’t figure out how the hell he still had a job here, considering most of the time, he was either late or didn’t bother to show up for his shift at all. Arlen rolled his eyes at the thought and then tried to track the man down to help him get loaded up.
“Hey.” Arlen tapped Pete on the shoulder as he sat in the breakroom watching Judge Judy and sipping on a Pepsi. “We gotta go put up some plywood ‘fore the storm hits. I need your help loadin’ up the truck.”
Pete screwed up his face and set down the can of soda. “All right. All right.” He rose from the plastic chair and hoisted up his sagging jeans from beneath his apron. “Where we goin’?”
“Don’t know yet. Boss just said load up, so we best load up.”
After too long, thanks to his grossly out-of-shape partner, the truck was loaded with ten sheets of plywood, cut to size according to what the customer needed. The storm was supposed to hit the coast by tonight and it was approaching noon now. Obviously, there were no guarantees it would reach this far inland, but people liked to be cautious an
d Arlen could understand that.
“Saddle up, son.” Arlen jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the engine of the flatbed truck. He waited for his partner to pull himself inside the cab and backed away from the great warehouse, watching it shrink in his rear view.
“How far we going?” Pete asked for the second time.
Prepared to answer—for a second time, Arlen began, “Should be there in ten minutes. It’s not far.”
He was on the mark, once again. Arlen always had a plan, always a path on which to follow. His father taught him that. Bet he wished he hadn’t now.
“This is it.” Arlen turned down the quiet suburban street filled with older homes that would probably be better off if they were destroyed by a storm. He checked the address written on the ticket once again. “Yep. 183 Hills Lane NW. This is it.” With no car in the driveway, he pulled up in order to make the unloading go along a little smoother.
A young woman appeared on the front porch, eyeing the truck as Arlen stopped inches from the garage door.
“That must be our customer.” He was liking the job already. Stepping out of the truck, Arlen nodded a hello. “Are you Mrs. Hansby?” He looked down at the ticket just to be sure he got the name right.
“No. That’s my grandmother. I’m only here to help make sure things go well.” The slender woman, not older than her mid-twenties, walked down the porch steps. She wore shorts with a long-sleeved hoodie that was partially unzipped and revealed a skin-tight tank top beneath. “I’m Lizbeth Hansby.” She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Lizbeth. My name’s Arlen and this is Pete.” He turned to his partner, whose face reddened from the exertion of getting out of the vehicle. “I suppose we ought to get started.”
Opportunities. Arlen was a patient man and, when an opportunity arose, he wasn’t the type to squander it. Just such an opportunity had now presented itself. And it would most certainly not be misspent.
Lizbeth walked back inside where her grandmother waited, peering through the window from her breakfast table. She sipped on her black coffee. “Should we offer them something to drink? It’s mighty hot out there.”
“Let them get started and I’ll go out in a while to check on them.” Lizbeth moved next to the old woman. “You sure you don’t just want to come back to my apartment until this storm blows over?”
“What’s to say it won’t hit your place even harder?” Her lips stretched into a smile, almost smoothing out the lines above them that had deepened from years of smoking. “Besides, you know I don’t like to leave Granddad.”
Lizbeth glanced into the living room where Grandpa’s ashes rested inside a brass urn on top of the fireplace mantel. “Okay, Grandma.” She returned her attention and then cast a measured look outside toward the skies. “I don’t think it’s gonna reach us in any event, but we’ll get you taken care of, I promise.” She placed her hand on top of her grandmother’s and smiled.
With each board the men unloaded, Arlen tried to catch a glimpse of the girl, working out whether he thought she’d be an easy take. She fit the bill; there was no question about that. Maybe a little older than the others, but it was her face that sealed it for Arlen. Big hazel eyes, olive skin, and perfect lips—not too full, not too thin. Her hair had obviously been dyed blonde, which annoyed him. He often wondered why women changed the color of their hair and especially to blonde. Darker hair looked more natural, innocent.
“Arlen, what the hell you waiting on?” Pete tugged on his end of the board, trying to move in the direction of the porch to set it down.
Arlen looked at his partner and shuffled on. If she was to be his next target, a plan would need to be drafted. While the two continued to bring the sheets of plywood to the porch, he noted Lizbeth’s car. Make, model, color, and finally, license plate number. He knew she didn’t live with her grandmother; she’d already said as much. But he wondered, would she stay with her until the storm passed? Well, that was the question to which he needed an answer.
» » »
Kate’s eyes had grown weary from reviewing the map of all the middle and junior high schools in the southern part of Georgia. There were far more than she initially expected. Out of the approximately two hundred, ten began with a W, ranging from Washington to Warwick to Whitehall. And this was all under the assumption that the school was near the vicinity of where the victims had disappeared. If that assumption was wrong, then none of this information would do them any good, but they had to start somewhere.
She pulled a sheet of paper off the printer and began walking to Jameson’s office. It took a moment for her to realize that nearly the entire floor had cleared out. When she stood at Jameson’s door, he was staring at his screen with a furrowed brow and seemingly in deep thought. “Sorry to interrupt,” Kate began.
Jameson turned away for a moment and blinked hard. “No problem.” He glanced down at the paper she was holding. “Is that the list?”
Kate continued inside and set the paper in front of him. “I highlighted the schools that begin with a W. I haven’t made it through the entire list yet. This is just southern Georgia.”
“So there’s about thirty of them.” He continued to study the report. “Well, it won’t be hard to rule them one way or another. We just need to reach out to the various administrations and find out if the logo on the girl’s shirt matches any of these schools.”
“What if they don’t?”
He pushed the paper back toward her. “Then we widen the search.”
She began to rub her eyes with gentle fingertips so as not to smudge her makeup. “So, we find where the shirt came from, then what?”
“It’s possible these shirts change, either every year or every other year, I don’t know, but if we find a match, then we find out the year it was distributed to the students.”
“Then we get a list of those students.” Kate finished his thought.
“Right. It’s a shot in the dark, but until forensics finds anything, it’s the best lead we have to run on.” Dwight stopped for a moment. “People like this—they don’t just happen overnight. They grow, develop into killers, and leave signs of their transformations in their wake. That’s what we’ll be looking for—signs.” He glanced at the time on his monitor. “It’s late. Why don’t you go home, get some rest, and be ready for Monday? We’ve got half a dozen agents and forensics experts working on this between BAU and Atlanta. Something will break soon.”
Kate studied Dwight’s face and thought she detected a hint of disappointment. “Do you think Campbell’s going to put Nick in charge of this next week?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Her acknowledging smile had empathy behind it. Dwight was more than capable of handling this investigation and so was she, for that matter. But there were two dead girls—that they knew of. Regardless of how much each of them believed in their own capabilities, they couldn’t risk more bodies piling up and they would need everyone on board, even if that meant Dwight would have to relinquish some control.
“Go on; it’s damn near midnight,” he said.
Her shoulders dropped at the sudden awareness. “I didn’t pick up my car and they’ll be closed now. I can take a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I completely forgot about your car troubles.” Dwight shut down his computer and began to pack up. “I’ll give you a lift.”
“But you live in the opposite direction.”
“I kept you here, I’ll take you home. Now go and get your things. I should get out of here too.”
» » »
The skies were clouded over and obscured the moon, which usually bounced light onto the bay where Nick’s boat remained docked. He’d taken it out twice since making the purchase shortly after he was put on leave. It was an impulse buy, no doubt, and one he’d hoped would see him through the challenges he was facing. While he made it through by the skin of his teeth, the boat still bobbed in the water that seem
ed rougher than usual tonight.
Nick had recalled hearing about a hurricane that was due in from the Atlantic and that it might hit Florida and parts of Georgia. But it appeared to have brought a disturbance in the weather that now loomed above him as he sat on the lounge chair of his balcony.
It was late, almost midnight, but he couldn’t sleep. Monday would bring a lot of issues to a head, both with ASAC Campbell and with his loyal team. He knew Jameson wanted a shot and he wanted to give it to him, but a case like Blackwater was a big deal, especially if things got worse, and things always got worse.
As he tossed back the few drops of what was once a Jack and Coke, Nick wanted to call Kate and get her take on the situation. She’d been working almost solely with Dwight for the past two months. He was her mentor.
Nick reached for his cell, which sat lifeless on the small glass top table between the two lounge chairs. He held it in his hand, the black screen awaiting a decision. Going around Dwight wasn’t really his style. He’d respected the man too much to play games. Calling Kate and asking her what Dwight was thinking was tantamount to passing a note in grade school that contained a question with a “yes” or “no” box written on it.
He unlocked the screen and pressed Dwight’s contact button. Raising it to his ear, Nick waited for an answer, pretty confident he would pick up. The two were a lot alike in many ways and always being on standby was one of them.
“Jameson here,” Dwight answered the call as he pulled into Kate’s driveway.
Kate waited inside the car while he held the phone close, keeping the conversation strictly one-sided.
“Yeah, Nick, it’s no problem. What’s going on?” He turned to see Kate’s growing concern at the unexpected call. A raised hand and slow nod suggested there was nothing for her to worry about. Still, she waited, unmoved.
“Hey, look, if that’s how Campbell wants it, I don’t have any issue with that. Come on, man. You know me better than that,” Dwight continued. “I know and it’s fine. Blackwater isn’t going anywhere any time soon and I think we all know that.” He looked at Kate for affirmation. “She’s with me now, actually. Had some car troubles earlier and I was just giving her a lift home.” Dwight paused again. “Just get yourself to the office Monday morning and this will all sort itself out, okay? My priority is to find out who killed those two girls. Nothing else matters to me right now. Good night, Nick. Try to get some sleep.” Dwight ended the call.
