Touching Evil

by Kylie Brant

  At Cam’s quizzical look she explained, “The bone here mean the offender may have used this site more than once. He never did that before.” Only one body was found atop a burial vault and reburied at each rural cemetery that dotted several counties outside Des Moines.

  “We’ll see. At this point we don’t know if those bones have anything to do with the body we found last night.”

  Sophia knew he was hoping to discover just that. But she recognized what his instincts were telling him. The discovery of that first body in the cemetery at Slater had led to five more excavations. “I tend to believe Vance used this UNSUB for the grunt work. We know he snatched Van Wheton.”

  She withdrew her iPad from her bag. “Given what you found here last night, this man may have also been tasked with disposal of all Vance’s victims.” The first six victims had suffered pre and post-mortem sexual assaults, but the attacks differed dramatically. Vance was brutal, given to sudden bursts of rage. Part of his satisfaction in the rapes had come from his ability to control and torture the victims, in keeping with the behavior of a sexual sadist.

  But whoever had been charged with getting rid of the bodies had first bathed them. Perhaps primarily to erase evidence, but the care hadn’t stopped there. The bodies had been rubbed down with Mother’s Touch, a lotion identified by the lab. Then they had been doused with insecticide, either to slow down the decomposition and stymie an investigation, or to aid the post-mortem sexual assaults.

  “What makes you so sure this UNSUB was charged with the body dumps?”

  “The kids’ interviews.” Sophie powered up the laptop and found the file she’d begun on this UNSUB. “They all said they thought the man was talking to a girlfriend. His tone—his words—were loving. That seems to fit with the care taken with the bodies. And while each victim bore evidence of post-mortem sexual assault, there were no signs, at least with the first six, that they were physically abused after death, as well.” A clearer picture was forming in her mind of the offender they were seeking. And while he might not be as violent as Vance, he just might prove to be a great deal sicker.

  Twisting in his seat, Cam turned toward her, reaching in the back for his laptop. His long-sleeved shirt was a dark dusty blue. It looked good on him, providing contrast to his short-cropped brown hair that still bore no hints of gray despite the fact that forty, while not exactly around the corner, was certainly within sight. The shirt’s color softened the lines and angles of a face that was too hard to be called handsome, but bulls-eyed on sexy.

  He caught her gaze on him as he turned forward, computer in hand. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was thinking of the profile.” At least she would be. As soon as she could tuck away a vivid mental picture of what he looked like without a shirt. Or anything at all. The last thought had heat flooding up her throat to her cheeks.

  Cam seemed unconvinced. “That dark makeup you’re wearing might hide the fact, but I’d be willing to bet you were embarrassed about something.”

  With effort, she tore her gaze away. If the foundation hid her annoying penchant for blushing, she might be tempted to continue with it long after the need for disguise was gone. “Over what, work?”

  “You know, if this is too much for you, I’m sure Gonzalez would understand.”

  Sophia froze. Stricken, her gaze met his. He continued, deadpan. “I mean this.” He stabbed an index finger in his own direction, made a small circle. “All this potent male virility in one smokin’ hot package. You wouldn’t be the first female to be too overcome to work.”

  Her mouth twitched. Before she’d allowed herself to be weak with Cam Prescott for twelve gloriously hot days, he never would have veered from the professional. And a few months ago she would have been much too reserved to summon a response.

  “You’re right, of course,” she responded drily. “It’s only through great personal resolve and heroic effort that I can keep from throwing myself at your feet at this minute.” She paused a beat before adding, “Coupled with the fact that you smell vaguely of decomposing roadkill.”

  His teeth flashed, and her heart did a slow lazy spin in her chest. She could have worked alongside Cam Prescott, the agent, for several more years and never felt this foreign level of attraction. It hadn’t been until she’d seen him like this a few short weeks ago that her defenses had started abruptly eroding.

  “Since you seem to be weathering my overpowering allure, we may as well go to work.”

  A companionable silence grew, broken only by the periodic alerts to texts Cam was receiving from the other agents. Sophia quickly typed up her observations of this area and then focused on the man who had chosen this spot to enact his perverted fantasies.

  She had first-hand knowledge of Mason Vance’s personality. Her kidnap and captivity by him had been a harrowing nightmare. But it’d also given her a unique perspective of the criminal, the likes of which was unmatched by any of the interviews she’d conducted over the years of similar criminals behind bars. Sophia had seen Vance in his element, in control and brutally violent. He was capable of any atrocity one could enact on another human being.

  Even before they had known he was working with an accomplice, she’d had a hard time reconciling the man she’d come to know too well with the post-mortem sexual assaults. Vance fed off the victim’s pain and suffering. But there had been no evidence of post-mortem mutilation. And while he’d uttered many threats about her death while she’d been held, his verbal details had had been reserved for the sexual assaults he had planned. The torture. Not once had he mentioned how he would kill her.

  Many of the violent sexual offenders she’d interviewed spoke at length detailing how they had murdered their victims. The deaths had been an extension of the fantasies they’d created, the ultimate finale to the sexual torture leading up to it.

  The fact that Vance had never mentioned more than the certainty of her eventual demise seemed telling.

  Thoughts of the man who’d kidnapped her had Sophie’s fingers going stiff and awkward on the keyboard. The rhythm of her heart kicked a faster beat. Despite the warmth in the vehicle she felt chilled to the bone. Surreptitiously she wiped her damp palms on her no-nonsense navy slacks and took a long deep breath. Released it slowly.

  She knew all the techniques to calm her physical response to the memories. But even given her expertise, she couldn’t prevent the recollections from exacting an emotional response. So she took a few moments to practice the deep breathing, hoping Cam would think her pause was only to collect her thoughts.

  At her side he made an inaudible sound. Sophie glanced over to find him with a photo of the victim from last night in one hand, his gaze intent on the computer screen. He was scrolling through pictures at a dizzying pace. They represented dozens stories. Some could have disappeared voluntarily. With others, mental illness may have entered the equation.

  And a few might have fallen prey to a predator like Vance, or his accomplice.

  The thought of all those lost and missing women fortified something inside her. Lent her the strength to wall off the memories and return to her task. Perhaps the body found last night would be one of the faces in the databases Cam was mining. Or it may be someone who was never reported missing at all. In any case, the victim deserved justice. Her family deserved answers.

  Sophia resumed typing. Vance’s interest in his victims had primarily been limited to the money he acquired through their abduction and the sexual torture. She didn’t doubt that he was capable of killing. With an icy finger tracing down her spine she recalled his sudden bouts of rage and erratic violence. But after coming in far too close contact with the man, she could be fairly certain that once the women were dead, they lost all appeal for him.

  Enter UNSUB number two.

  Her typing began to pick up speed as the profile for the second offender began to take shape. He had a proven sexual affinity for long dead victims. Given the link between him and Vance, it seemed probable that the UNSUB had been res
ponsible for the post-mortem sexual assaults of the bodies disposed at the cemeteries that had been discovered weeks earlier.

  The lotion used on the corpses suggested something of a personal nature for the offender. Something his parent had used on him, perhaps? Or a sharp contrast to a childhood devoid of the care the brand name denoted? She made a note to check out how long the product had been on the market. In any event, its selection was telling. Vance had been an egomaniacal offender motivated by power and control, who had exulted in degrading and torturing his victims. Perhaps the accomplice had only been given access to the victims after their deaths. Or, more probably, his perversion was titillated by the dead or near dead women.

  Perhaps the most puzzling thing about the seconder offender was the lack of evidence of accompanying paraphilias. The absence of post-mortem sexual sadism and mutilation made him unlike many lust murderers.

  Cam’s cell rang then and Sophia listened unabashedly to his side of the conversation. When he finished he turned to look at her. “Beachum and Samuels might have a real lead. They were following up on the most promising of the tips coming in since the sketch of the offender was released. Most of them turn out to be people claiming the drawing is an exact match to an ex, or an ex’s new boyfriend, but they just finished interviewing Becky Gainer, a cashier at the Pinter’s on East Euclid.”

  Sophia nodded. Pinter’s was a chain of grocery stores that didn’t exist outside the Midwest, but one couldn’t drive more than five miles in any direction in the urban Des Moines metropolis without seeing one. “She thinks she saw the offender?”

  “Identified him from the sketch we released. The first one Jenna did, of the offender in Edina. According to Gainer, he shops there occasionally. She sees him at least once or twice a month.”

  “Did she actually date him or just want to?”

  He stopped then, drilled a gaze at her. “Did I have it on speaker phone?”

  Sophia smiled faintly. “The first sketch depicted a man who was fairly attractive.” His features hadn’t been nearly as pleasant in the drawings done earlier this morning when Jenna had interviewed the kids. But it was the face in the first sketch that the UNSUB would be showing the world. It was the one that would be recognized. And regardless of his true personality, at least initially some women would respond to him.

  “Troy said he got the impression Gainer was interested in the guy, but that he didn’t always come to her lane and they never exchanged more than a few words. She described him as a cash customer. Always alone. No wedding band, so you’re probably right about her interest. Polite and a little shy.…a perfect gentleman were the words she used.”

  “What about the store security footage?”

  “Gainer thought she’d last seen him in the store about ten or twelve days ago. The agents are in the process of getting the store surveillance footage, both for the interior and exterior. Then we’ll see how well he matches our sketches. But Troy said the woman seemed pretty certain. It’ll also give us a time stamp so we can get an idea of his schedule.”

  Excitement thrummed in her veins. If the match was verified, this was valuable information, indeed. “If it does prove to be him, you’ll need to prioritize tips of individuals living or working in the area. Triangulate a grid between all the nearby Pinter’s, focusing on the neighborhoods and businesses closest to this one. Likely he either lives or works within a few miles of this grocery store.”

  Oh.” A thought occurred to her. “Most of the Pinter’s stores have a pharmacy. See if he had prescriptions filled there.”

  “All the store employees will be shown the sketch,” he agreed. “If it comes down to getting a look at his prescription history, it’ll take a warrant, but I can get it. Do you have something specific in mind?”

  “It’s just a thought. He could be under treatment for some diagnosed mental illness, I suppose. But I’m wondering if he might have some condition that caused him to lose his sense of smell.” Close proximity to the odor of decomposition would be overpowering. Even protective covering over the nose didn’t mask the smell. “The kids at the scene hadn’t described the man with a mask. So with this offender’s perverted predilection for corpses, maybe he dealt readily with the odor because he couldn’t smell them.”

  “Your mind…” The admiration in his expression warmed something inside of her. “What medical condition would cause a permanent loss of smell?”

  She thought for a moment. “There are several. Advanced diabetes and MS are two, but I can’t imagine this offender having the strength needed for these crimes if he were in the advanced stages of either. That also rules out Alzheimer’s and old age. But there are medications that can lead to a loss of smell, too. Also trauma to the nose, nasal polyps, radiation, chronic cocaine use…” She gave a little shrug. “The possibilities are there.”

  “Yeah, they are. It’s a good thought.” For the first time she noticed the small smile playing about his mouth.

  “What?”

  “I know we’ve had this conversation before, but you would have made a helluva cop.”

  It was hard to think with the intensity of his gaze trained on her. His eyes seemed more gold than brown when they were focused on something, and right now she was the object of his attention. Muscles in her stomach quivered.

  “My reasons for using my training strictly for research and as a civilian forensic consultant haven’t changed.”

  “You said it was because you were too big a coward to do otherwise.” His voice had lowered. The slightly raspy tone scraped over nerve endings that seemed overly sensitive. “But it wasn’t a coward who out-witted Vance. Who saved Courtney Van Wheton and escaped from the barn you were kept in. Somehow I’m going to find a way to convince you of that much.”

  Sophia forced herself to look away, oddly shaken at how easily the conversation had veered to the personal. She wished fervently that he could convince her of just that. Wished he could make her believe that her success in diverting Vance from assaulting her in exchange for time to create a more ‘accurate’ profile to release to the public had been solely due to bravery.

  Because when she’d discovered that he’d used the intervening time to sexually brutalize another victim…her cleverness had seemed like something much less admirable. And until she could extricate Courtney Van Wheton’s screams from her mind, she knew she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.

  It was with a degree of relief that she noted the plume of dust rising from the road before them. Within moments she could make out the approach of a dark Tahoe. The cadaver dog and handler had arrived.

  She wasn’t altogether certain what it said about her that the arrival and what it entailed was a welcome distraction from her memories.

  Chapter 6

  “George.” The two men shook hands. “Never sure who’s going to respond to the call out. Glad to have you.” Cam had worked with George Roberts several times before. The man belonged to the STAR-1 civilian team that had an agreement with DCI, and were dispatched through the Story County emergency services. Most recently Roberts had helped on a missing persons’ case Cam had worked involving a missing five-year-old girl. The handler knew what he was doing.

  “Dr. Mona Kilby is working with us on this investigation.” The name sounded foreign on his tongue but he delivered the falsehood without batting an eye. Before he’d transferred to DCI Cam had worked for DNE, the narcotics enforcement branch. He’d spent more time than he wanted to consider working undercover where his survival depended on his ability to lie convincingly. It was that earlier undercover experience that had landed him on the multi-agency task force a couple years ago. To Sophie he said, “George runs his own marketing firm.”

  The man pulled a dark cap over his longish brown hair. “And my boss is a real pain. Took some real arguing to get the time off.” Tall and lanky, he had a lean face and an irreverent sense of humor. His navy T-shirt read: Z-Pack. We Find Zombies.

  Cam’s mouth quirked as he read it. Th
e cadaver dog handlers, like major crime agents were present at some pretty grisly discoveries. It wasn’t unusual to use humor to establish some sort of emotional distance. And even then there would be sights that were impossible to scrub from the mind.

  “I want you to meet someone new.” He went to the back seat and opened the door to let out a black and white border collie.

  Cam eyed the dog. “Where’s Deke?” Every time he’d worked with the man before he’d worked with an intelligent-looking German Shepherd.

  Roberts grimaced. “Participated in that search over by Elkader last month. You hear about it?”

  He had. An elderly man with Alzheimer’s had wandered away from his caregiver. His body had been found miles out in the country, on an abandoned farmstead.

  “On the way back to the vehicle Deke got his foot caught in the rotted cover of a cistern. I even had him on a leash, but the place was so overgrown, I just didn’t see it.” Remorse was evident in his voice. “Had some pretty nasty splinters taken out of his paw. He’s still favoring it so he’s not up for work quite yet. This is Veyda. She was a rescue pup a couple years ago. Has all the training standards met and has proven herself several times over. She’ll do fine.”

  Cam watched the dog beeline for Sophie and was unsurprised to see the delight on the woman’s expression. They’d spent several hours one afternoon in a shelter looking for a pet for Livvie to present Carter for his birthday. Their progress had been slowed by Sophie’s inability to pass a cage without stopping to coo over the animal inside, no matter how homely or battle-scarred.

  Sophie lowered herself carefully to one knee to pet the animal. Stopped herself, hand midway in the air to look at George. “Will I distract her?”

  The man grinned. “You’d distract any of us, Dr. But she hasn’t gotten the work command yet. You can pet her.”

  Cam watched Sophie fuss over the dog and the canine’s blissful response. It occurred to him that in that regard, dogs and men weren’t all that different. With or without a disguise, Sophie would rate a second glance from any male with a pulse.