by Dale Mayer
It’s too late, she said sadly.
“What’s too late, honey?” he asked, his heart stalling at her pitiful response.
Nobody will find me.
“Why? Where are you?”
She gave an unhappy sigh. I don’t know. It’s dark. I don’t like it here. I’m scared.
Pushing the issue and knowing he was in danger of having her disappear on him, he asked, “What kind of a place is it? It’s like a box or like an empty house with lights.”
She raised her gaze and looked over at him. Her eyes were fathomless, deep and dark. She whispered, You’re never going to find my body.
His hope sank. “Body?”
She nodded. He says I’m dying. And that no one cares. He says I’m nobody. Nothing.
“He’s wrong,” Jericho said urgently. “He’s very wrong. You are somebody. Someone that matters. We will find you. We just need a little bit of your help. Can you tell us anything about where you are being held?”
But she looked at him with such sad eyes he knew she had no idea.
He tried another trick. “Do you remember where he took you? Did you see any houses nearby? Any flowers?”
Her energy brightened. There was a blue house. A bright blue one with daisies all along the front of it. But I don’t know where it is, she wailed.
“Did he hurt you?” Jericho knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions, but it was so hard not to.
She nodded, tears shimmering in the vicinity of her eyes. Sometimes he says I’m his little princess. His little China doll.
“Oh. And did he dress you up in a pretty little dress.”
She nodded. A really ugly dress. And he put makeup on my face. It’s not the same kind of makeup Mommy uses on her face.
“Right. Did he take pictures?”
The energy shimmered – little bits and pieces flickering off in the room as she nodded. He took lots of pictures. But he wouldn’t show them to me, she cried. He said they weren’t for me, they were for him.
“Does he have any pets? Did you see a veranda, did you see any part of his house at all? Where were you when he took these pictures?”
In my room, she said. But that’s when he brought me food.
“And what about after he brought food?”
Her energy rippled. He took his pictures and then left.
And this was where the problem was. Jericho lowered his voice and said, “And has he been back since.”
She shook her head. No. I was so hungry for a while, but now I’m not.
“What about water. Do you have water?”
I’m not thirsty, she whispered.
“When did you start walking?”
She looked at him puzzled. He clarified, “Without your body?”
I don’t remember. After his pictures, I think. Her form shrugged. I don’t want to remember.
He didn’t believe her. What she’d done was in response to trauma, and the last thing he wanted to do was probe into that. He was afraid he already knew.
I did like the music though.
His gaze sharpened. “What kind of music was it?”
Christmas songs, she said with a smile. Instantly the room filled with a gentle noise as she hummed the chorus of “Jingle Bells.”
“Stefan, you getting this?” he called out.
I’m here, Stefan responded in a very tired voice.
“Any idea what she means?” Jericho asked.
No. Not a bit. It’s middle of summer, Stefan murmured.
Jericho laughed. “I think I just heard something about a Christmas in July sale?”
There was a long silence from Stefan. Then he admitted, Actually I don’t know. I try to avoid most of the stores, and I definitely don’t like to listen to ads. But I will get Hunter on it.
“It could mean she was somewhere around the mall.”
Or around somebody who loved Christmas songs, Stefan corrected. We can’t afford to assume anything at this point.
“Maybe not but at least we have something to go on.” Although Jericho admitted it was damn little.
Chapter 20
Tavika stared into the phone. “What did you say?”
The coroner said slowly, “The girl had a medical procedure done for a bone marrow transplant.”
“She had leukemia?”
“I’m waiting on the tests, but it’s quite possible,” Shelby confirmed.
Tavika shook her head. How sad a life could any one girl have? Then she considered something else. “Any chance she was the donor of the bone marrow.”
“Not usually done in one so young. It would have to be extreme circumstances. Even then I’m not sure. I have to make a couple of calls. We have her name and now we know something so maybe there is a possibility,” the coroner said abruptly. “I have to go. Leave this with me and I’ll see what I can find out.” She hung up.
Bone marrow transplant, interesting. So difficult for anyone. Tavika tended to agree with the coroner the girl had received bone marrow. The question was from who? There was a database for bone marrow transplants. If the coroner didn’t get to it by the end of the day Tavika thought she might be able to find more information. That didn’t mean it was going to lead them to her killer, but who knew.
“Tavika?” She lifted her head to see the captain standing with his legs in a wide stance and his hands on his hips. Someone was in trouble. He motioned upstairs. She immediately got up, taking an extra moment to log off, snatched up her notebook and followed. The office fell silent as she walked out – all eyes tracking her progress. Outside she saw Henry speaking with his partner, Charles. She gave them a quick smile as she followed the captain to his office. Henry raised an eyebrow at her in question. She shrugged. She didn’t know what was up but somehow felt a reprimand coming. That she was in bigger trouble than usual.
In his office he motioned to the chair. She sat and opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. There was a knock on the door. A man she didn’t recognize entered. He took a seat beside her.
“Tavika, this is Marshall Henderson of the FBI.”
She sat back. Goddammit. Why hadn’t she seen this coming?
Henderson studied her carefully. She never said a word just gave him a flat stare.
“Tavika Bantrell is lead detective on this case.”
Tavika shot him a look and asked, “Which case?”
Neither of the men answered her. She sat back stone-faced.
Like hell she’d speak first. This wasn’t how it worked. Not if she wanted to keep everything to herself.
Henderson said, “We have reason to believe one of your cases is the work of a serial killer known as the Ghost.”
She stared back, barely stifling her gasp and deliberately kept her own counsel. How the hell did they figure that out? It wasn’t like she’d registered any of the evidence that would point to the Ghost. She had accessed several data banks looking for information. But how did they know? All she said out loud was, “Interesting.”
The captain said impatiently, “Tavika, you already knew this. So let’s just lay our cards on the table.”
She shot him a cool look and said, “The first card I’d like on the table is why the FBI is involved?” She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “We’re quite capable of handling this.”
“But this is not just your case. The Ghost has been attributed to forty-seven different killings across the country.”
Her jaw dropped. “Forty-seven?”
That meant with the other three she thought were connected they were fifty strong. Possibly fifty-one with the woman in the trunk of the car. If she were to add in the man she’d seen dead in the office building she had to wonder just how many this asshole had truly killed. Jesus Christ. Maybe it was that, which had her feeling a little less antagonistic.
She couldn’t resist murmuring, “And you still haven’t caught him?”
The FBI agent smiled at her. In a low voice he said, “Just imagine how well we
could do if we actually had cooperation.”
She snickered. “My understanding is that you need to be called into a case in order to have any kind of involvement.”
He shook his head. “The FBI are not so easily pigeonholed into what we can and cannot do.”
Under her breath, she muttered, “Damn.”
“Your full cooperation in this instance would be much appreciated,” Henderson said with an easy but firm smile.
Before she had a chance to answer, the captain stepped in and said, “Tavika will help you.”
The captain turned those laser eyes on her, and asked, “Won’t you, Tavika?”
Like she had any choice. “Of course. There isn’t much to tell you at this point. Breaker was found alone in his house by a neighbor. He’d been killed approximately twelve hours earlier. No signs of resistance. Television was still on, a cold cup of tea sat on the table. No defensive wounds, we’re waiting on the tox screens.”
“Tox screens, any reason beyond standard procedure?”
Her gaze shot up to his. “It appeared there was an injection site. Possibly a pressure syringe.”
His eyebrow rose slowly. “Interesting.”
“So maybe not one of your cases?” She tried really hard to tamp down the joy at the thought, but knew she failed when he gave her a short laugh.
“Unfortunately the pressure syringe confirms it as we’ve seen an increase in the number of instances when the Ghost used them to keep his victims from crying out.”
“That is opposite to what he was like years ago.”
Silence.
“You’ve been following the Ghost?”
Tavika shot the captain a look. Damn her unruly tongue.
He shrugged.
She dropped her gaze, then stared at him and back at Henderson. He should know damn well who she was and what she knew about the Ghost from personal experience. If he didn’t – that was his fault.
“Sure,” she said. “The Ghost is notorious.”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, that’s quite true. I hear criminologists are even singing his praises in the classroom,” he said in disgust.
She laughed. “I don’t think they are singing his praises as much as using him as a case study on success stories. I’ve actually attended a couple of the night courses. They were quite interesting.”
Henderson’s lip curled downward. “It’s not a good idea to look up to these individuals. They thrive on the notoriety scenario.”
She wondered about that certainty. Many serial killers were full of themselves, but she wasn’t sure the Ghost was the same. Then again he didn’t fit into any stereotypical box. When she’d met him he’d been a much younger man and yet seasoned to killing already with lots of blood on his hands. He’d changed over the years, morphed.
She wanted to know why. And how. This was the field she planned to study for the rest of her life. The more real-life studies she solved the better off everyone was. Her chances of killing more of these assholes went up with every new thing she learned.
But in order to do that she had to get out of these goddamn meetings and get something done.
She stood up, turned to face her captain. “I can email Henderson the little bit we have on the file. If there’s nothing else maybe I’ll get back to work?”
The captain studied her face, and she knew he was considering the other cases. She gave a tiny imperceptible shake of her head. He dropped his gaze, pursed his lips then said, “You’re good.”
With a cheery smile, she turned and walked away without saying good-bye to the FBI agent.
Taking the stairs two at a time she stopped outside the office door and took a couple of deep breaths then walked in. If she’d hoped to catch anybody on her computer that was a faint hope because there was nobody in her corner. Of course if anyone knew IT had been setting up a new system they would take greater precautions.
She headed to her computer, sat down and logged in again. No problem.
It was stupid to feel upset things were actually going correctly, but if she had somebody who was trying to access her computer she really wanted to catch him before he went and did it to somebody else.
She finished up a couple of reports, checked the time and realized only an hour had gone by. The office was closing in on her. She walked out and headed down to the main station where two cops were dragging Stoner in. Damn, she knew him from the old days and some not so old as he’d ripped her shirt during their last meeting a few days ago. She wore more than a few bruises from that asshole. She stepped off to the side and waited for them to pass. At the last minute Stoner saw her and lunged. She’d been prepared – only one was never prepared for Stoner.
The three hundred and sixty pound man should’ve been a linebacker instead of selling drugs on the street corner – when he was cognizant enough not to get ripped off. The rest of the time he lived up to his name and spent his time drugged out in a back alley somewhere.
But when he moved he was almost impossible to stop. And he was heading right for her.
The two cops yelled, “Look out! Stop him.”
Yeah right. There was only one way to stop Stoner. And it hurt. She’d readied for the blow to come.
He was growling by the time he reached her. His hands were out in front, fingers curled into claws and his face twisted in a snarl. She’d won the last round, and he was looking to get even. And here she wondered if she’d get out with just a few bruises. On the other hand she really could use a target for her own temper. She waited until he was almost upon her then reached out and slugged him once in the belly.
As he bent forward she twisted around to leap on his back sending him forward into the wall. He smacked his head and fell to his knees. She hopped off, stood back and waited. For Stoner that was damn near nothing. But he didn’t move.
What the hell was wrong with this guy? Just when she thought they were good, the cops approached him.
Still on his knees, Stoner twisted, reached out, snagged her leg and pulled her down. And the fight was on. With the cops trying to grab his arm and pull him off her, Stoner was having none of it. He lashed out, his fists catching her in the shoulder. Her boot caught him in the jaw. Several rounds later she turned, jumped and did a double fly kick up into his nose and sent him sprawling to the floor on his back. This time he didn’t move. She landed on her feet then lost her balance and fell to the floor. Stars swam in her eyes.
Like what the hell?
It was only when she heard the applause around her that she realized the size of their audience. Once again the guys had something to talk about.
She sat up, looked down at the big man and shook her head. “Why the hell did you guys bring him in here? Just take him right to the bloody jail.”
One of the cops that had lost his grip on Stoner gave her a cheeky grin and said, “What’s the fun in that? Managed to record that fight on my cell phone. Dammit, Tavika, you are one bad ass fighter.”
The admiration in his voice made her feel odd. She jumped to her feet and brushed off her clothes. She grinned, wiped the blood off her cheek and said, “At least I managed to keep my clothes intact this time.”
With a salute to the guys she walked to the front door and out into the sunshine.
She could hear them all talking behind her. Whatever. She was used to being talked about. At least this time it had been good. Out in the fresh air she stopped and assessed the world – looking for a sense of direction. Her mother had always told her to reach out and see what she was supposed to be doing at any given time. That there was a job that everyone should be doing. It was up to her to understand what that was from moment to moment, hour to hour.
Her mother had life all worked out. So what the hell had gone wrong?
There were so many questions Tavika wanted to ask her. Her mother’s spirit refused to answer any of them. That really pissed Tavika off. Her sister wouldn’t talk either. And that was just part of the ordinary sibling crap she’d grown up with. As
the youngest by eleven minutes, Tavika had been blamed for a lot. The older two had always thought she was Mom’s pet, but in truth that honor went to her sister at the end. Her mom had doted on her because her abilities were so much like her own and with the promise of being much stronger. Travis was very capable, but football had been his passion. Speaking of her brother she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was time to talk to him again.
Chances were he’d be pissed for days.
Holding the phone to her ear, she said, “Travis, you there?
“I’m here,” he said but instead of being angry like she expected, he was sad.
She winced.
“Why do you always end up in trouble?” he asked.
“I wasn’t in any trouble,” she said, hating the defensive note in her voice. Travis always knew when shit happened in her world.
That heavy sigh filtered through the phone. He did that to her all the time. She groaned. “Look – what was I supposed to do? He attacked me. I had to defend myself.”
“And why did he attack you? Because you were asking for it.”
She glared out into the cloudy sky. “I did not. I was walking on the side of the hallway. I tried to step out of the way, and he came at me.” She shrugged. “So I put him down.”
“Like a dog?” Travis snapped.
“Hell no. But this guy knows me. I was forced to knock him down the last time we met so he was kind of looking for payback.” She shook her head. “Do we have to talk about that? Surely there’s something else.”
“Yeah, how about the Ghost…”
She winced. “How about something other than him?” If there was one thing Travis was fixated on it was the Ghost. She understood as she was afflicted with the same issue, but whereas she was hunting him, Travis was just looping over and over on the same issues, and unable to help, he also couldn’t move on.
Reading her mind as he’d always done, he snapped, “Sure, I’ve got another topic. How about the guy you’re hanging around with?”
“Jericho?” How did Travis find out about him? Dammit, her twin could always read her mind. She just often forgot what was in there.
