by Mckoy, Cate
Catlyn studied her old friend. Tasha was covering for Jack, giving him time to recover himself from his reminder of Sam. Not sure how she felt about Tasha knowing her boyfriend so well, Catlyn added her own form of distraction to get Jack's mind off Sam.
Catlyn let her catty side come out to play. "Oh, look, dear, your office wife is protecting you. Isn't she cute?" Catlyn blinked her eyelashes sweetrly at Jack.
Jack came out of his funk, smiled at her silliness and whispered in her ear, "I do believe my little Kitten has claws." He gave her cheek a kiss before going to the head of the table to start the meeting.
Catlyn stayed in the back, choosing to stand against the wall. The meeting was in full swing when Tasha joined her. Each department took a turn updating the task force of all pertinent information. The room was full. Patrol, forensics, media liaison, M.E.'s office, state police, FBI, lead detectives, D.A.'s office and even the Chief of Police's right hand man, the entire task force was in attendance.
Tasha whispered to Catlyn, "He gets upset about Sam. He always thought there was more to it than robbery. Sam had been stabbed 42 times and his throat was slit. Jack said that kind of rage has got to be personal."
Catlyn's brow furrowed. She couldn't imagine Sam inciting anyone to that much anger. His general good looks, position on the football team and his 'boy next door' disposition meant that he was well liked by all. The girls liked him, wanted to be his girlfriend and the guys liked him, wanted to be his best friend. She remembered Jack telling her once that Sam was the good kind of friend that you could ask for anything and he would do his best to comply. And that Sam liked everyone until given a very good reason not to. It didn't make sense. Maybe after this case she would look up Sam's case file.
Jack was done with his spiel as the last of the group added their update. "At this time, I'd like to hand this meeting over to the FBI, specifically Supervisory Special Agent Jose Sanchez who has a more detailed profile of the suspect or in FBI lingo the UNSUB, Unknown Subject… Agent." Jack indicated Jose should take his place at the head of the table.
Jack took Jose's seat. Jose began with ease used to speaking publically. "First off, this profile comes from Dr. C.L. Light, a renowned doctor in the fields of Behavioral Analysis and Abnormal Psychology. The doctor has helped with the successful capture of several serial rapists and a couple of serial killers. The most notable of these cases is the Day Stalker rapes/murders in Wildwood, NJ ten years ago."
"Oh, man. I remember that case. I followed it because my parents had a summer house in Wildwood and we vacationed there for two weeks every summer." A uniformed officer called out, adding. "The doc was right on the money about the killer's description."
Jose smiled. "Dr. Light tends to be right almost always. Now, we are looking for a black male or black male mixed with another race. He is older than his victims, between late 30s to late-40s. He is charismatic and able to blend. Two of the victims were taken from their homes. Although there were signs of a struggle there was no sign of a break-in. These women let him in and didn't know they were in trouble until it was too late."
"How is that possible? He has to look a little off?" Another uniformed officer spoke out.
Jose addressed the officer. "Actually, he doesn't look crazy or off. He is able to hide his rage and hatred of these women. Our victims remind him of someone, someone no longer within his realm for whatever reason. He's acting out his disgust and anger towards his fixation on these women who have the misfortune to resemble her. His rage stems from a rebuff or rejection whether real or imagined it's very real to him." Jose flipped a page of his notes and continued. "He is exacting and precise. He may have a job that is detailed oriented and may be time sensitive, a job needing satisfactory results. Also, his job may have odd hours since he was able to take his victims at varying hours."
"So is this guy crazy or what? Is he going to stop?" The media liaison asked.
"Dr. Light believes our UNSUB will continued until he is captured, killed or the original target becomes available to him. As for crazy, that will be determined by the courts when we catch him. However, he doesn't think he's crazy he believes he has been wronged and is setting the record straight."
"Should we be looking in cold case files or old closed ones to find an M.O. similar to these murders?"
"A preliminary search spanning 15 years revealed no matching cases." Jose finished up the detailed profile and asked for any more questions.
"We've established the bodies are being dumped and the victims were not tortured and killed there. Why is he choosing the City of Newburgh as his dumping ground? Is he from here?"
"Although Dr. Light believes he may have lived in Newburgh once or is very familiar with it, he does still live or work here now." Jose answered.
"So why dump them here? What point is he making?" Detective Rider asked.
"It's more like him putting her back where he found her when he's done with her. That is why each victim was found within only a few blocks of each other. The victims live here as does or did the original target he is fixated on."
"Although a lot of the torture, beatings and all the rapes were done while the victims were alive, there was just as much damage done post mortem. Is he into necrophilia?" M.E. Turro asked.
"He was simply not finished with the victim, anger not yet spent."
"Uugh, that's nasty!" The same uniformed officer exclaimed.
"He's a very nasty perp. He's smart, methodical…" Jose paused, making eye contact around the room. "…and winning."
There was a poignant silence before Jose continued. "Dr. Light believes the UNSUB has had some type of formal training, possibly military or security and is unmarried, owns his own home with no immediate neighbors. He has to have time for all he is doing to the victims, undisturbed time. So, that means no wife, kids or nearby neighbors."
"So he doesn't gag his victims?" Another detective asked.
"He likes hearing their screams."
Several more questions were asked and answered. The meeting finally broke up and the conference room cleared with the exception of Jack, Catlyn, the other FBI agents and Detective Rider.
He walked up to Catlyn. "I just wanted to formally introduce myself, Detective Sgt. Carl Rider." He offered his hand.
Catlyn shook his hand, smiling, "Nice to meet you Detective Rider, and thanks for the backup at the bar and grill."
"Not a problem."
Catlyn went to take her hand back but the detective held it. It was then Catlyn became aware of his hypnotic stare. He stared at her with something like worship and pain mixed. Catlyn pulled more insistently at her hand. He held fast and continued to stare.
Catlyn's whole body went on alert and her voice shook as she said, "Detective Rider, my hand."
Jack too became aware of the strange stare the detective gave Catlyn. He took both Catlyn and the detective's wrists and pulled, separating them. Still the detective stared unaware he no longer held Catlyn's hand.
"Detective Rider, is there a problem?" Jack's voice held demand.
Jack's voice punched through to the detective. "S-sir?"
Jack held on to his patience as he repeated. "Is there a problem, because, if there is not, I'd like an explanation for you blatant disrespect towards Supervisory Special Agent Lyte." Jack put emphasis on Catlyn's title.
Catlyn studied the detective. He seemed to be in some sort of shock, even though Jack spoke to him, his eyes never left Catlyn's face. He continued to watch her as though in a trance. He also had tears in his eyes. Catlyn realized she was witnessing grief. Grief so strong, that she or rather her face had triggered it, taking the detective to another place in time.
Very gently, Catlyn asked, "What's her name detective?"
"T-tawny. Tawny Brooks. Are you related?"
Sadly, Catlyn shook her head in the negative. "No, I am sorry, detective. I am not." She took his hand. "I am so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, Ma'am." The detective then blindly stum
bled from the room.
"Wait just a second detec—" Catlyn put a staying hand on Jack's arm. "Let him go."
"What the hell was that about?" Jack asked. "Who the hell is Tawny Brooks and how did you even know there was a Tawny Brooks?"
Catlyn ignored his questions and asked one of her own. "How long has he been back from bereavement leave? I'd say it wasn't enough time. He probably needs more."
Totally confused, Jack said, "Detective Carl Rider hasn't been on any bereavement leave of absence."
"Really? Hmm." Catlyn was surprised.
The FBI agents in the room were looking at Catlyn. Sanchez said, "One of your feelings, Cat?"
She nodded and went to the computer at one of the desks off to the side of the conference table. "Jack sign-in for me so I can have a chief's access."
Seeing that she was obviously on to something he quickly complied. Once he was on and his welcome screen appeared he gave the seat to Catlyn. "What is it, honey?"
"Your detective has all the earmarks of grief, the kind of grief from the loss of a very close loved one, wife or girlfriend." Catlyn tapped at the keys until she got the logo for the police combined databases. "I am guessing it's a girlfriend since you'd obviously know about a deceased wife."
"Detective Rider hasn't ever been married and he hasn't got a girlfriend." Jack amended. "Well, at least, not one that any of us has ever seen."
Catlyn did a search for anything with the names Tawny Brooks and Carl Rider together.
A few more keystrokes and three Tawny Brooks appeared on the screen. Catlyn clicked on the only black photo. Tawny Shay Brooks.
Catlyn's hand went to her mouth. She was stunned. She heard Jabaria's gasp and Sanchez's "Holy shit" and Jack's "Oh, my God!"
"Oh, my God!" Jack repeated. "Catlyn that could be a picture of you taken when you were a teenager."
Recovering from her shock her fingers flew across the keyboard. "What is worrying me though is the fact that Tawny's picture is of a teenager, which means she may not have gotten any older."
And just as she voiced her thoughts her search revealed several news stories from 1994. Catlyn clicked on each story arranging them side by side. The headlines were not good.
'Coed Body Found Slain/Raped on Campus Green', 'Tawny's Killer Still at Large ', 'Police Baffled Who Killed Tawny'.
"Chief, you don't remember this story? It's local." Sanchez asked.
Jack shook his head. "No, I was still in the service, still overseas. I didn't return home until about 1997. Look here," Jack tapped the screen. "'…Ms. Brooks' fiancé, Mr. Carl Rider was cleared with an airtight alibi. Mr. Rider was inconsolable when approached by reporters for an interview'"
"Jack do you archive your cold case files on the premises?"
"Yes, in the basement. There are 2 rooms down there dedicated to cold cases."
"I will need access." Catlyn clicked print.
Sanchez asked. "Cat, you think this might have something to do with the Slasher? Think we need a new profile?"
Catlyn gathered the pages of the stories as they came off the printer. "Not sure yet, I would have to see the case file. But, I think we may have found the original target, the first girl."
Jack looked at Catlyn. "Wait, wait just a second. Why is Sanchez asking you about a new profile? I thought you guys were partners of equal rank."
"We are but Cat does the profi—"
Jack slapped his hand against his forehead, "Of course, the PhD in abnormal psych." He pointed a finger at Catlyn and said in an accusing tone. "You're Dr. C. L. Light."
Catlyn looked at Jack, wondering if he was upset or not. "Yes, I am Dr. Catlyn Lee Light."
Jack studied her for several seconds and then shook his head. "I keep forgetting just how big your brain really is."
"Does that bother you?" Catlyn held her breath for his answer and released it in relief when he winked at her and said, "No I find smart chicks really sexy. And, if they just happen to look like you and are built like you I consider that a bonus."
The small group laughed. Jack, looking over her shoulder as she read the pages, asked. "Why the change of spelling to your last name and why use initials?"
Catlyn looked back at Jack, smiling. "Because my gorgeous alpha male, people, and by people I mean men, tend to trust males more when it comes to something like profiling and most people, and by people, I mean everyone, automatically assume the sex of a person who uses initials is male."
Jack smiled back, nodding, for he indeed had pictured an older man, a professor type with glasses when he heard the name of the profiler. "I have to admit. I did think our profiler was an old white guy in glasses."
"See, that is exactly why I changed the spelling of my last name and started using initials when I did my profiler gig, hiding in plain sight. Since the start of my profiler program and my stint at Quantico I have had to put up with people being surprised when we meet, especially if we've only ever corresponded through letters or emails. I am either, the wrong sex, age or race."
"That must have been really tough to go through." Jack sympathized.
"Jack, it's not past tense, I am still going through it." She set the pages down on the table. "Do you honestly believe any of your male task force members would have accepted that profile if they knew it came from me? I can't tell you how many times I had to deal with the 'boy's club' when on assignment."
Jack frowned. "Now I know some of us guys can be assholes but we respect other law officials. My men would have accepted you Catlyn. And, in case you haven't noticed, there are several women on this task force."
Catlyn shrugged. "I am sorry if you are offended but I am basing my actions on past experiences in other towns, with other LEOs."
Jack was a little offended. "Come on, honey, if I hadn't known you and we met the first time you walked into my office, I would have given you the benefit of the doubt to know your job and how to handle yourself."
Catlyn gave him a doubtful look, then reminding him of a few pertinent facts. "Jack, you know me and you still questioned my ability to do my job because I am a woman. You initiated a physical altercation to get me to step down from doing my job." Getting upset she added, "Now tell me with a straight face that you would have done that if I were a man."
The others in the room saw the argument that was coming and silently left the room. Jose said in a low voice before leaving and closing the door. "We are going to go chase down that cold case."
They didn't even acknowledge Jose. Jack was stunned. He had acted like a chauvinist. "Catlyn, that is not fair. You know that my actions had more to do with my feelings for you than your ability to do your job."
"Well, you didn't treat me any differently than complete strangers I've met on the job who couldn't believe the big bad FBI sent a 'little lady' to do some heavy lifting."
Jack paused, thinking. He really had treated her unfairly. She was right. "Catlyn, you're right. I didn't treat you like an agent." He cupped her cheek, moving in close, looking deeply into her troubled eyes. "But, sweetheart, that had absolutely nothing to do with me thinking your ability as an agent is deficient." He leaned in and softly kissed her lips, whispering, "It had to do with my feelings for you and my body's reaction to you being in my presence."
He tried to deepen their kiss, but she turned her face away and he let her. "So, you are basically saying that if I had been a stranger you would have allowed me to do my job unhindered?"
Jack thought over her question. If they had been strangers the conflict on the conference table would have never happened, but he still would have hesitated to have a female agent put herself in harm's way in his city. He still would have tried to talk a female agent out of the assignment.
Seeing his hesitation to answer, Catlyn shook her head in disappointment, "Just what I thought." She stepped out of his embrace and turned to leave.
Jack getting frustrated sighed. "Come on, Catlyn, you know you're no match for a crazed killer or any male."
She t
urned back quickly. "What?" Her eyes flashed at him angrily. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Jack reacting to her anger spoke carelessly. "No woman can beat a man physically." He shrugged ignoring her widening eyes. "It's just the way it is. Men can't give birth and a woman cannot beat a man physically. It's the way we are built." His eyes traveled down her body appreciatively. "And you are built more womanly than most."
With each word Catlyn's eyebrows rose higher as did her irritation with Jack's narrow view. "May I remind you about our little tussle I seem to recall it was I who was standing and you on the floor."
Jack gave her a look as though something should be obvious to her, "Because I allowed you to be the one standing."
