No Chance in Hell

by Jerrie Alexander

  “I didn’t. I kept thinking about Wayne’s wife. Did you rest at all?”

  “I worked for a while after you went to bed, but I caught a couple of hours.”

  “What was on the tablet you didn’t want me to see?” She lifted one eyebrow. “You didn’t shove it far enough under the couch.”

  “I wasn’t sure until I’d had a chance to look. Kay sent additional information on your sister. It was pretty much the same information you’d gathered. The cops did interview the neighbors, but they didn’t produce any leads.”

  “What now?”

  “As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go to the office. Kay will send flowers for Wayne’s funeral, but I want to send something personally.” Diablo pushed his nose against Marcus’s hand.

  “He worships you.” Chris leaned down and patted the dog’s back. “Just look at the way he stares, watching your every move.”

  “He’s used to being fed after his morning run. We should go before he decides to drink your coffee.”

  “Oh no,” she said with a laugh, holding her mug high. “I draw the line at sharing my coffee. Let me rinse out the pot, get my stuff, and I’m ready.”

  Closing up the house took only minutes. Marcus grabbed his tablet, his belongings, and was waiting on the steps when Chris opened the back door, carrying her bag of clothes.

  “Funny, the things you don’t remember until something triggers a bit of history.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Chelsea and I must have lived in a couple different foster homes. When they moved us to a different place, they put our clothes in a bag. Not one of these, but a trash bag.”

  Marcus loaded Diablo in the back seat and joined Chris in the car. “That had to be rough on a kid. How long were you in foster care before you were adopted?”

  Chris’s eyebrows dipped. “No one’s ever asked me that. I have no idea. It’s weird, but I don’t remember much before we moved in with the Hollands. The moving and plastic bags just popped into my head. Maybe more will come.”

  “Did the Hollands have other children?”

  “No. They’d tried in vitro fertilization and failed. Dad always said God sent me and Chelsea to them.”

  Marcus drove the car around to the front of the house. He stopped at the edge of the driveway and scanned the area before driving to the freeway. They’d had a quiet night, meaning the safe house was a viable option for the future. Sequestering Chris might be the only way to keep her safe.

  She poked him in the ribs. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He could guess what she meant, because he’d gotten her talking about herself.

  “I open up and spill my guts. Yet, I know nothing about you.”

  “The more I learn about you and your past, the better I can protect you. I’m not only going to keep you safe, I’m catching the bastard who killed your sister and Wayne. And I’ll be there when the state puts the needle in his arm.”

  “Touché. You win this one.”

  Marcus stopped at the first fast-food joint he spotted. Diablo was hanging over the seat with his tongue hanging out when they drove away.

  “Back.” He commanded the dog as he eased the car into morning traffic. Chris fed Diablo and then handed Marcus his coffee. The slurping from behind his shoulder gave him a chuckle. “My car will never smell the same again.”

  “He doesn’t usually eat in here?”

  “No.” A huge paw landed next to Chris. “Wonder if it’s like this when you have kids.”

  “Don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know, either,” she said flatly.

  “Really? I thought all women wanted children.”

  “What if I couldn’t bear the pressure? Or died? I have no family left to step up and take over if they were orphaned.”

  Marcus clamped his teeth together and kept his eyes on the highway. He could understand her fear, but she’d have a husband someday. He’d be her family.

  Marcus parked in front of the Lost and Found office, put the leash on Diablo and escorted Chris inside.

  “There you are,” Kay said, rising to greet them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I’m sorry about your house. Did you drive by there this morning and see what it looks like now that the sun’s up?”

  “No. The fire marshal will release the property when he’s through with the investigation. There’s a guy I know who will take over salvaging what’s left.”

  “Call him now,” she insisted. “Chris and I will talk.”

  She turned to Chris. “How’d the clothes work out?”

  “Perfect fit.” Chris turned in a circle. “Thank you.”

  Marcus unhooked Diablo’s leash and left the two women talking clothes. He walked back to his desk, where a thick folder had been placed on the corner. A sticky note from Dalton told him to check email. Marcus sat, cursing himself for not having checked earlier. He retrieved his tablet and located the overview from Dalton.

  Before he dug into the reports, he made a call to the fire marshal’s office. The inspectors were at the house and had found evidence of arson. Next, he checked in with a friend who’d been in the construction business for years. Turning the job over to someone with his experience took that worry off Marcus’s mind.

  He thought about telling Chris, then decided against making her feel any worse. Instead, he turned his attention to the information sent by Dalton. No murders had been reported that followed the same MO, so he’d requested all killings containing any torture. Those were the files on Marcus’s desk. Kay had made copies.

  After looking through the first few cases, he went to the break room and dug around until he located the map of the states that had been left behind by a previous tenant. With that tucked under his arm, he grabbed the thick folder, a box of pushpins, and moved to the small room they used for meetings.

  “Marcus?” Chris said, joining him as he affixed the map to the wall. “Have you learned something?”

  “I don’t know. You want to help?”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  He handed her the box. “I’ll give you the city name, and you pin it.”

  “Midland, Texas.” He paused, allowing her time to insert the pin.

  Her eyebrow rose in question. “Is that it?”

  “No. Green Hill, Cali...” She had the city pinned before he’d finished. “How’d you find that so fast?”

  “It’s outside of Los Angeles. Next?”

  Chris hadn’t asked why she was sticking pins into a map, she’d just jumped in to help. She was smart and he didn’t have to explain the purpose of the exercise. He pulled up each unfamiliar name on a Google map and helped her locate the city on the wall map.

  The tension in his neck increased each time she shoved a pin into the map. When he called out the last city and fell silent, she turned. Her blue eyes studied his face.

  “You do this for a living. Tell me what you see.”

  “Nothing yet. But I’m working on it.” Marcus rose and stood next to her.

  “There are eleven pins. I didn’t put one on North Riverview. Is Chelsea’s file in that stack?” A manicured finger pointed at the oversize folder.

  “No. She makes twelve. Go ahead and add her pin.”

  “Twelve women have been killed the same way?” She backed up and leaned a hip on the table.

  “That’s the rub. Except for torture, the murders aren’t identical. I’m looking for a pattern to the locations. Right now, they seem random. Some are in this area. Others are spread across the United States. Dalton must’ve seen something, because he asked me to study them and give him my thoughts.”

  “May I take a look?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please don’t try to shelter me. I’m sure Kay saw them.”

  “No doubt. She’s better trained at this sort of thing. All of these women were butchered. I was trying to give you options.”

  “I’m not a sen
sationalist. I don’t stop at car wrecks to see the blood. But in this instance, I want to help.” Her gaze hardened, turning her eyes a deeper blue. “I need to help.”

  “Then have a seat. I’ll split the stack with you. As we finish, we’ll swap files. Study each case. Look for commonalities or anything that distinguishes one case from another. Take notes. Dalton made a statement that rang true then, and even more so now.”

  “What was that?”

  “That Chelsea’s murderer wasn’t about to stop at just one. I’ve only glanced through each file, but I’m positive he was right.”

  “Don’t tell me anything else. Let’s see if I make the connection.”

  Marcus walked to his desk and returned with legal pads and pencils. He sat directly across from her, resting his hand on top of the folder. “I don’t feel good about subjecting you to these pictures.”

  She covered his hand with hers. Her touch was warm and gentle, meant to assure but failing. It only made him want to protect her from the ugliness.

  “It can’t be any worse than what I witnessed at Chelsea’s house. Nothing could be more horrendous.”

  “But it can. If this becomes too much, we stop. Deal?”

  “You got it.” She’d enunciated each word with resolve. Marcus knew in his gut that they were about to put that statement to the test.

  He pushed the top file to her and opened the second one for himself. The sharp hiss of her inhale cut right into his heart. She paled, blinked a few times, and then picked up her pencil. He couldn’t help but believe she’d missed her calling, because she’d have been a damn good cop.

  He bent his head and concentrated on his stack of files, making his own notes as he went. He took an occasional peek at Chris, watching the range of emotions play out on her face.

  No two victims had been killed in the same manner, and the women had all come from different towns. They’d been slashed, beaten, stabbed, burned, choked, had their throats cut, or some combination. Bottom line being: They’d all been tortured before death had mercifully ended their nightmare.

  He and Chris traded folders and worked through each one. When they’d finished, three things stood out in Marcus’s mind.

  “You two want some coffee?” Kay asked from the doorway.

  Marcus jotted down his final thoughts before responding. “None for me. Thanks.”

  “I’ll pass, too. Thanks.” Chris stood. “But I think I’ll splash some water on my face.”

  “Go ahead,” Kay said, leaning over his shoulder. “Graphic pictures. I can’t image what these women went through.”

  Marcus looked up at her. “You put these together, which means you studied them. I’d like to get your take,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Stay and let’s talk this out.”

  “Thank you for respecting Chris’s intelligence and my experience enough to ask for our help.” Kay pulled out a seat and joined him.

  “I learned the value of teamwork in the Army. On rare occasions, one soldier becomes a hero. Most of the time, it’s a group effort. You hear from Nate?”

  “Yeah. As expected, Tomas is pretty shaken up.”

  Marcus handed over his credit card. “Will you send flowers in my name?”

  “Sure thing. Wayne’s funeral is tomorrow at ten.”

  “I’d like to attend,” Marcus said. “But I’m not sure it would be safe having Chris out in the open.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it. Even with hundreds of uniforms around, one bullet could—”

  Marcus turned in his chair toward Chris. “We ready?”

  “You go first.” Chris sat and picked up her pencil.

  “A couple of things bothered me. The murders are different, yet alike. The fact they were tortured screams serial killer, which is what Dalton had already decided. I’m betting he’s already turned this over to his boss. Somebody in the FBI is connecting the dots with the police departments of each of these towns.”

  “They’ll tell us to back off.” Chris folded her arms across her chest.

  “I followed orders in the Army. As a civilian, I’m less cooperative. This is personal.”

  The corners of Kay’s mouth twitched. She’d obviously misunderstood what he meant, that Chris’s case was no longer professional. He had to salvage the conversation before Kay started planning a wedding. “The bastard screwed up Chris’s life, killed my friend, and burned my house.”

  “You got confirmation?” Chris’s face flushed. “It was deliberate.”

  “Yes. I haven’t been sent the report, but the inspector found evidence of arson.”

  “Of course, that’s why it’s personal.” Chris’s eyes closed for a second. “What else bothered you?”

  “Why’d he pose them?” Marcus continued, grateful she’d moved on. “It’s as if he was showing off, but who’s he trying to impress? Usually, no one sees these pictures except the first responders, the medical examiner, and the detectives who work each case.”

  Chris nodded and tapped her pad. “I noted that they all looked posed, too. I also wrote down dates. Looks to me like the killer became more sadistic with each kill.”

  Marcus was impressed she’d picked up on the dates. “Yeah. The first two murders were months apart, yet the others were separated by only a few days. That’s not a known pattern for a serial or spree killer. Maybe Dalton can get a profile put together.”

  “Spread over different cities and states, I can see why no one connected them,” Kay added.

  “Picking small towns or rural areas made it even harder.” Marcus couldn’t sit any longer. He rose and paced. “Half of the women were violently raped. The other half hadn’t been sexually violated, but their legs had been positioned to display their genital area. None of this makes sense.”

  Chris had started sorting through the files again. Her eyebrows were pulled together, and her jaw was set tight. Something had drawn her attention. When she looked up at him and Kay, her expression had shifted to fear.

  “What is it?” he asked. Damn that he couldn’t remove that panicked look from her eyes.

  “Counting my sister, six of these women fit my description. Check it out.” She tapped a file. “They have long blond hair and blue eyes; they’re around five-foot-eight, and between twenty-eight and thirty-two. Has he been killing Chelsea all along? Then I walked in and disturbed him?”

  Chapter 11

  Chris immediately wanted her words back. Had she just verbally negated the importance of twelve deaths and made it all about her sister? “I’m sorry to be so paranoid. That was a stupid question.”

  “Not stupid.” Marcus stopped pacing. “What if he’s been killing you all along? In your situation, paranoia might keep you alive.”

  “Marcus is right,” Kay said, pulling the folder in front of her. “It’s not a stupid idea. Let’s take another look.” She quickly set six files to the side and checked the remaining stack.

  Marcus moved to stand behind Kay as she sorted and made notes. Chris leaned closer, trying to see what Kay wrote.

  “Interesting,” Kay said. Her eyebrows were drawn together. “The six other women were of different races and hair and eye color. It almost seems random.”

  Marcus reached around Kay and picked up the note pad. He took red pushpins and placed them next to half of the ones Chris had used. Then he repeated the process with green pins. He backed up and studied the map.

  Chris couldn’t stand the silence. “What do you see?”

  “I wish to hell I knew. There has to be a pattern here. What am I missing?” Marcus looked through the files again, writing furiously as he went. He dragged his hand through his hair. “We keep adding facts that tell us nothing. Soon, they start adding up. We just have to keep digging.”

  “You saw something else?” Chris understood his frustration. All these files, and they were no closer to the killer.

  Marcus swept his hand across the map. “The first murdered woman had brown hair and eyes. A couple of months passed before a blonde wa
s killed. A few weeks later, he reversed his pattern and slaughtered both women within days of each other. Yet, they’re scattered all over the map.” Marcus tapped a pin in Arizona and one in Texas. “The blonde women are all killed inside the Texas state line.”

  “You’re right,” Chris said, moving away from the map. “Was he keying on them because of Chelsea? Because he couldn’t find her?”

  “Doesn’t explain the other women,” Kay said. “The killer moves around a lot.”

  “He’s got time on his hands,” Chris added. “Or he travels for business. Like a truck driver or salesman.”

  “Could be,” Marcus agreed. “Either profession would have the ability to cover a lot of territory.”

  “So what’s next?” Chris blew out a breath.

  “I’ll call Dalton. Tell him what we found. Maybe he’s come up with something.” Marcus stood and rolled his shoulders. The muscles in his neck were drawn tight, making her wish she could ease his tension.

  “You go ahead.” She resisted the urge to touch him. Instead, she remained seated. “I’ll hang out with Kay.”

  “Can you think of anyone in your past who’d like to see you dead?” Kay asked.

  “Other than Chelsea’s murderer? No. “ Chris closed the files. “I don’t have any family left. They’re all dead. My friends have long ago stopped wondering where I am.” The weight of her situation and the truth of the statement slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. She really had no one to help her except the Lost and Found people.

  “You’re not alone. We’re going to help you.” Kay stood, and they walked to her desk together. “Let’s call in and order for lunch. There’s a Chinese place a couple of blocks away. They make the best almond chicken. You in?”

  “It’s not too hot. Is it?”

  “I’ll make sure they keep the spices light.”

  “Sounds good.” Chris sat in the visitor’s chair while Kay ordered the food. She pushed her wavy brown hair off her shoulder. Chatting casually with the person on the other end of the line, she agreed a side of eggrolls would be good.

  Kay hung up. “While we wait, tell me more about being a Big Sister. How did you get involved?”