B00CCYP714 EBOK

by Bradshaw, R. E.

  Alone in the shower, able to move her limbs again, Bladen worked the stiffness out of her joints. These rare moments of freedom were the only bright spots she had to look forward to. She massaged her muscles, encouraging the blood to flow again, after hours of restriction. She needed to be ready to take advantage of an opportunity, should one arise. Bladen knew she had to maintain her strength any way she could. She would eat what was given to her, drink when she could, and stay alive, whatever it took.

  “Stay focused. Stay engaged,” she whispered.

  Suddenly, he was standing over her again. She flinched at his unexpected appearance. He held a hamburger and a soft drink cup in his hands. He saw that she was trying to relieve the pain by soaking in the few inches of water she managed to accumulate. Bladen thought he was going to kick her again, or at least make her stand up. But he only smirked under the black mask, crumbled the hamburger, and tossed it into the water pooled between her legs. He poured the soft drink over her head, tossed the cup in the water, and left her alone.

  Freedom was indeed an altered concept for Bladen.

  #

  Jason Brand’s perp-walk was well attended. The traditional parading of a high profile suspect before the media, shortly after his or her arrest, was controversial at best. In this instance, the suspect’s head was covered to prevent tainting of the witness identifications, but the press conference that followed left no doubt that the serial rapist was in custody. After an afternoon of working out the details of the statement with the department spokesman, and coordinating with Wiley on Jason’s arrest, Rainey was quite sure they were setting the right lure.

  The media was informed of an important press conference, and given plenty of video of the perp-walk for the nightly news. The spokesman hammered home the message that the Triangle could rest easier tonight. The rapist who terrorized young women in the area was behind bars. All questions about the body found behind Rainey’s house were deflected as “being under investigation,” and not “yet” tied to the rapist. Questions concerning Rainey were answered with, “Former agent Bell is not involved in any active investigations at this time. She is a person of interest in a murder inquiry and that is all we are willing to comment on.”

  Sheila hung around long enough to give Cookie Kutter a statement, with other media outlet microphones tucked close to her chin. She pulled off the casual presentation brilliantly. Rainey watched the performance on a television in the conference room, alone. The story seeded, all Sheila had to do was wait for her cue.

  With no way to get more information on Rainey’s situation, Cookie concentrated on other rumors. Since she prided herself on having all the best behind the scenes crime-beat gossip, it was, of course, Cookie who shouted the anticipated question. “Sources say the body you found was dumped by a serial killer connected to the missing women, and the FBI has declined to participate in the investigation. Can you comment on that, Sergeant Robertson?”

  Sheila almost walked away, paused, and then turned back to Cookie. Excellent sell, Rainey thought.

  “Just so the families of these missing women know, we are doing all we can to find out what happened to them. The FBI has been contacted, but until we have more evidence to share with them, there really is nothing they can add to the investigation.”

  Cookie could have been reading from Rainey’s script, if she had written one. “But are you now willing to admit there is a serial killer in the Triangle?”

  “No, not at this time,” Sheila replied, and then moved away quickly, refusing to comment further.

  “Now, we wait.” Rainey said to the television screen. “Come on asshole, show yourself.”

  The door opened behind her. She turned to see Colonel Asher enter. The soldier’s stiff upper lip had slipped some, replaced by the worried frown of a desperate father. His eyes were rimmed red. He went off by himself to release the emotion, something Rainey saw countless times working with the BAU. She had done it herself, when a case burned through the layers of protection. At those moments, it was best to discharge the built up tension, rather than attempt to stay in control. A quick release and back to work she would go. She doubted it was that easy for the colonel in this instance.

  “I pray you’re right,” he said. “I hope Bladen can withstand his fury. You just threw down the gauntlet. My daughter may be the collateral damage in this war you’ve begun.”

  Rainey addressed the father, not the investigator. “She’ll make it, Patrick. You said yourself that she’s tenacious when challenged. Bladen is smart and she has the advantage of having you for a father.”

  His reply was almost a whisper, as he tried to remain composed. “My brain knows this is her only hope. My heart is afraid it won’t be enough.”

  He sat down in a chair at the end of the long conference table, the files of missing women scattered out in front of him. Rainey crossed the room and joined him, this time addressing the investigator, not the father.

  “Colonel, you have many more years experience in law enforcement than I do, but I’m not sure how many of these types of offenders you’ve come across. None, I’d venture to guess. Less than two percent of serial murderers are true sexual sadists, and of that number, only a very few could compare with this UNSUB’s desire to inflict long-term suffering. It’s interesting that you used the term ‘war,’ because that is what we are engaging in, a war of manipulation, domination, and control. This is the goal of most rapist, stalkers, and multiple murderers. Boil these crimes down and those three things are at the heart of them all. They also engage in manipulating law enforcement and the media. We engage them right back, play the game, and try to control the outcome. It is war, Colonel. We must know our enemy and attack his weaknesses. This particular UNSUB wants attention. We deny that and he’ll announce himself in a big way. I’m sorry to sound so callous, but it is my belief that a live Bladen serves his needs more effectively. He’s going to reveal much more to us than her body—he hasn’t had the time to make her presentable. He wants to be the greatest serial killer ever, and he’s going to show us the proof.”

  The colonel listened intently, and then asked, “You surmised all that from looking at one body?”

  “No, not one body, many. As much as these guys would like to believe they are special, they pretty much fit into certain categories and behaviors. That’s the basis of profiling—if you see a, b, and c behaviors, then the offender will usually follow the same pattern as others before him. That’s how we get out in front of them, anticipating their next move. This guy was going to contact the police again. We’re just prodding him to make a big statement.”

  “If that was your daughter with him, would you be doing the same thing?”

  Rainey did not hesitate to answer, “Yes, sir. I would be concerned, as you are, but I have to trust what I’ve learned—” Halfway through the spiel she had delivered countless times before, she stopped. Her parent box flew open and the words tumbled out. “Who am I kidding? Concerned? Colonel, if that were my daughter, or either of my sons, I would be a crazed animal. I admire your ability to remain rational, while suffering the worst of a parent’s nightmares. I would hope that I could remain so and entrust my precious child’s recovery to the men and women of the BAU. I have faith in their methods. I believe that if it were possible, they would bring my child home. I expect nothing less from them in Bladen’s case. They take it personally, sir. No stone will go unturned.”

  “It appears you take it rather personally yourself,” the colonel said, a slight smile in one corner of his mouth.

  “Yes, I do.”

  He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together. His voice softened, he said, “It’s a gift and a curse to see into the hearts of men. We can spend our lives searching every human interaction for deception or ulterior motives. I tried not to bring that home with me, the paranoia.”

  Rainey nodded in agreement. “I understand completely. It’s hard, but like my wife says, at some point you h
ave to try to live among the other humans. We can’t raise children in a home filled with fear.”

  “I never wanted Bladen to be afraid, but I did tell her evil was out there. She did everything right, and he still took her.”

  “Evil finds a way, Colonel. We walk the streets with evil every day. We unknowingly work with it, live next door to it, invite it into our homes. Unless it is shown to us, even a trained behaviorist can’t see evil when it is cleverly cloaked.”

  “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you? I’ve been to war. I’ve seen horrible things, but you, you’ve seen the worst of humanity, and now it’s right here in your backyard.”

  “That’s another reason I think Bladen will survive his rage over the press conference. He hasn’t had the time to do what he did to Jacquie Upshaw. He’ll have to raise the bar, if he wants to impress the BAU. He’ll show us something that separates him from the other killers he’s studied. He wants to be a star, but don’t confuse that with wanting to be caught. He’ll give us a body or bodies he’s already disposed of. It’s less risky. If he’s as smart as I think he is, he knows we’re playing games with him. However, his narcissism won’t allow him to ignore the opportunity to prove his existence and his superiority to the police. He can’t help the smirk.”

  The colonel sat back, composure restored. “So, what now?”

  “It’s going to be a while before they have the list of pickup trucks narrowed down to a manageable number. Brooks, a computer specialist with the BAU, can do most of the eliminations. She’s fast, but it takes time to weed out the records that would be of no use to us. I know it’s agonizing to wait around, so let’s take a drive.”

  Rainey stood and the colonel followed suit. He asked, “Where are we going?”

  “That satellite map image in my office was two years old. I’d like to see that area now.”

  The colonel followed Rainey to the door. “Do you have access to a helicopter?”

  Rainey grinned. “No, but I do know someone with access to a satellite. I just have to contact her from my secured network at home. Come on, you’re about to meet the family.”

  #

  Bladen heard his roar begin and knew something had happened. He came into the bathroom ranting. She caught the swearing, but could not understand what he was saying. He was so angry he could not finish a sentence. He yanked her up from the shower drain by her hair. Bladen fought him, but she was wet, and slipped on the slick concrete floor. He dragged her the rest of the way, backhanded her so hard she saw stars, and then lifted her onto the rack. He slammed her wrist and ankles into the shackles. When she fought again, he smashed his elbow into her abdomen, leaving her struggling for air.

  Once she was completely strapped in and unable to resist further, he climbed on top of her. Spittle dripped from his bottom lip onto her face, as his angry breath heaved the oxygen from the air. He was literally foaming at the mouth. Bladen looked into his contact-covered pupils, seeing the veins bulging in the whites of his eyes. He wrapped both hands around her throat, squeezing the life out of her, panting like an animal. She felt the blackness creeping in from the edges. This was it. He was going to kill her right then. She stopped fighting and made her peace with it. It was better than many of the other methods he could have employed to end her life in his chamber of horrors. The darkness closed in around her, the light becoming a pinpoint at the end of a long tunnel. Abruptly, the light flooded back, as he released his grasp on her throat, bellowing in frustration.

  “Rrrruuuurrrr!”

  While Bladen coughed and gasped for air, he hovered over her. Finally putting nouns and verbs in order, he yelled, “Fuck the FBI! You’ll fucking make time for me, assholes. You’ll see. Fuck you, and fuck Rainey Bell.”

  He climbed off her, caught up in his rage again, ranting about Rainey Bell. Bladen’s only concern at the moment was breathing. That changed when he went for the whip. He began to lash her, but almost as an afterthought, while he imagined what he would do to a real live profiler.

  “If I see her where I can get her, that bitch will be stretched out on this rack and fucked six ways to Sunday. Profiling me would be the last thing on her mind. I bet she would fucking fight like hell, but I’d break her. They all break, eventually. Becoming useless lumps, they whimper how they’ll do anything, even kill each other if I ask. Maybe I should just go get her. See if she’d kill you to avoid having her asshole ripped open.”

  Bladen screamed with each slap of leather, but it seemed her captor could no longer hear human suffering. The whip moved up and down her body, as if he were lazily beating a rug out on the clothesline. While excruciating, the sound of the whip biting into her skin and her shrieks of agony appeared to have a calming effect. He lowered his volume, and the rant became the telling of a fantasy

  “I should have grabbed that nosey bitch, Katie Meyers when I had the chance. Next time, she won’t be so lucky. I’ll teach her to meddle in a man’s family. That rich bitch needs to mind her own fucking business. Yeah, I’ll grab that little blonde whore next. She’ll leave the compound sometime. That’s better than grabbing the FBI bitch herself.” His maniacal laughter filled the air. “Rainey Bell will never forget me.”

  Bladen Asher would never forget him either.

  #

  As they made their way out of the courthouse, Rainey and the colonel met Sheila coming back from the press conference. After congratulations on the successful duping of Cookie and the rest of the media, Rainey explained that she was taking the colonel to her house. She used the excuse that Katie prepared dinner for them, because she could not betray her satellite source, especially to someone that may have to testify in court how certain information came to her knowledge.

  Sheila pulled Rainey to the side, slipping a flash drive in her hand. “Take this. There are two videos on it. You’ll know what to do with it when you see them. I also included the image of the cartridge found at the Jackson murder scene. The shooter cleaned up two of the ejected rounds. This one was found under the body. Jackson rolled on top of it, trying to get away. Whoever shot him delivered the final two shots standing over a wounded man. That’s a cold killer, Rainey. Watch your back.”

  “Thanks, Sheila and, it goes without saying, I didn’t get this from you.”

  Sheila winked. “I knew I liked you for some reason.”

  “Call me as soon as you hear from him. It won’t be long,” Rainey said.

  Sheila called after her. “You stay safe out there.”

  Rainey smiled over her shoulder. “Always.”

  #

  Rainey called Katie to tell her they were coming. The rest of the ride over was quiet, as they both ran the clues through their brains. Rainey’s directions were the only words breaking the silence, until they pulled up to the guardhouse at her neighborhood.

  “Just roll your window down, Colonel,” Rainey said.

  One of the senior members of the security staff stepped up to the car. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

  Rainey leaned over, giving the guard a good look at her face. “Hey, Reese. It’s me.”

  She saw Reese’s hand slide closer to his weapon. Rainey and Reese had a long discussion when she moved into the neighborhood. He was very aware of her circumstances and the lengths some very disturbed criminals might go to gain access to her home.

  She eased his mind, asking the colonel, “Could you pop the trunk so it can be inspected.”

  The colonel raised his eyebrows, but pulled the trunk release.

  “It’s procedure when I enter the neighborhood,” Rainey explained.

  After closing the trunk, Reese walked to Rainey’s side of the car. She pressed the button, lowering her window glass. Reese eyed her suspiciously.

  “Considering all that’s been happening, Ms. Bell, would you mind telling me my dog’s name?”

  He wanted the failsafe code. If she said anything other than the arranged name, he would pull his weapon immediately. She made it easy for the guards to rem
ember. Smiling up at Reese, she asked, “How is old Buddy?”

  “He’s just fine,” Reese responded. “Have a good evening, Ms. Bell.”

  Reese stepped back to the guardhouse and opened the gate. As they drove through, the colonel glanced over at Rainey, but he did not comment on the security measures. At least, not until they pulled into her driveway. She told him to stop, exited the car, and approached the security panel. The colonel rolled his window down, watching her access her home. When the gate began to slide open, Rainey motioned him to go through, but he just sat there. Rainey approached his window.

  “Colonel?”

  “You’ve looked into the eyes of the devil, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, and I intend to see him coming next time.”

  “These security precautions imply you believe there will be a next time,” he said, beginning to roll the car up the driveway slowly.

  Rainey walked beside the car, continuing the conversation. “Katie may talk of not living in fear, but the only reason that is possible is because of the net I’ve thrown around our family. Yes, I believe there will be a next time and a next. As long as these freaks find me fascinating, I’ll be a target, as will the people I care about. Some people think I’m paranoid. My history and recent events suggest otherwise.”

  The colonel smiled up at her. “Haec protegimus,” he said, bringing the car to a stop where Rainey indicated he should park.

  Rainey laughed. “Yes, sir. ‘This we’ll defend.’ My father was an Army man, too.”

  Colonel Patrick Asher had done his homework on Rainey. He stepped out of his car and rattled off, “Master Sergeant William Bell, Special Forces, Vietnam, ‘70 to ’75, Purple Heart, Silver Star. A hell of a soldier raised a hell of a daughter.”

  “Hooah, Colonel.”

  Rainey remembered the Army affirmative slang, as opposed to the Marines’ “Oorah.” Her father told her it stood for “Heard, Understood, Acknowledged,” or anything but “No.” The colonel’s smile told her she got it right.