All His Pretty Girls

by Charly Cox

  Up in his kitchen, he went over his plan, going over every detail. He couldn’t afford a single mistake. He was going to have to kill a cop to get to her, but, really, why should that matter? Last night, he’d risked driving into a seedy part of Albuquerque where he’d brazenly approached a group of gang members, announcing he needed a gun. After frisking him, making sure he wasn’t a cop, or wearing a wire, one of them had led him down a dark alley, where he’d rapped on the back door of a well-known, popular restaurant. When another guy popped his head out, a scowl on his face, the kid spoke rapidly in Spanish. The guy in the doorway said something in return and then shut the door in the kid’s face.

  ‘Six hundred even, if you want it. Meet me back here at eleven p.m. Not a minute later, not a minute sooner,’ he’d ordered before walking away.

  Evan didn’t balk at the price. He would’ve paid double, if he’d had to. And when he arrived exactly at the designated time, the kid, surrounded by his gang buddies, asked for the money, counting it before shoving it down pants so low Evan wondered how they stayed on at all, then handed over the gun, along with a box of bullets ‘on the house, man,’ and then sauntered off, $600 richer. Or at least $300, as Evan assumed he’d raised the actual price asked.

  Tonight, he’d creep up on the cop – he’d already scoped out another way into the vacant house – and shoot him. Then he’d sneak into the Wyatt residence, and using his gun to keep them in line, he’d secure the husband and kids with ropes and then inject them with the midazolam. Then all he’d have to do was wait for Alyssa to arrive. With her, it would be tricky because she’d still have her weapon, so he brought a tranquilizer gun with him. He’d be waiting for her the second she opened the door, and he’d take her by surprise. Then he’d load them all into the cop car, drive them to where his vehicle was parked, transfer them, and finally bring them back here.

  As he imagined the fear on her face when she realized she’d failed her family, a wicked grin curved his lips. And when he made her choose which one he would torture first, well, that would really be the defining moment, wouldn’t it?

  He rubbed his hands together, eager for the night to arrive.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Tuesday, April 9

  Alyssa snarled at anyone who happened to come into snapping distance of her vicinity. She was operating on little caffeine, less sleep, and entirely too much worry and stress. At some point, in the middle of biting Cord’s head off, he stalked off. At least he’d lasted longer than the rest of the team, she thought as she stared down at the composite sketch of Isaac’s kidnapper. The resemblance to her father was vague but definitely there. She was mildly surprised she hadn’t made the connection right away, but she also knew the mind had a way of closing off things it didn’t want to see.

  When her partner returned twenty-five minutes later, his hand was out, extending a very large cup of black coffee.

  ‘I come offering peace,’ he half-joked.

  Embarrassed and exhausted, she put her head in her hands. ‘God, I’ve been such a bitch today, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yep, sure have,’ Cord agreed, a little too vehemently, in Alyssa’s estimation.

  ‘Don’t sugarcoat it or anything. Just give it to me straight.’

  ‘Hey, you’re the one who said it. I just agreed. Besides, a fact’s a fact, my friend. Can’t help it if you speak the truth.’

  ‘Yeah, but you didn’t have to agree so quickly, did you?’ she mumbled grumpily.

  Cord waved his arm to encompass the empty conference room. ‘I present to you evidence A, B, C, and so on and so forth...’

  As her partner made his case, Alyssa’s eyes fell on a sheet of paper sticking out of one of the files. Evan Bishop. With everything else going on, she’d shoved him to the back burner. But there was something about his name that was scratching at her.

  When she figured out what it was, she drew in a deep breath, and her nerves played bumper cars with each other as she moved the composite sketch aside and swiveled to grab Isaac’s file, running her finger down the page until she found the officer’s name. Muttering, she tore off a sticky note and scribbled down both names, drawing lines to matching letters. When she finished, she tossed the pen aside, and glanced over to her partner, her eyes wide. ‘Officer Shane Pobiv. Cord, it’s an anagram of Evan Bishop.’

  Without waiting for his response, she grabbed her keys, her phone, the composite Liz had drawn from Isaac’s description of his kidnapper, and raced out the door. ‘Let’s show this sketch to Miles Garcia at the Old Country Feed Store and see if my hunch is right,’ she said.

  Thirty minutes later, her suspicion was confirmed when the owner and two of its employees verified the man on the page was indeed Evan Bishop.

  ‘Sure looks like him,’ Miles said, passing the image to his workers, who each nodded their head in agreement. ‘I mean, he looks a little different in the sketch… didn’t have that scar there when he worked here, I don’t think. But definitely think it’s the same man.’

  Alyssa thanked him and headed back to her vehicle, her mind swimming in so many directions at once that she had a difficult time focusing on any one thing. As soon as Cord was buckled in, he said, ‘I’ll call Hammond and fill him in, and then I’ll send a message to the team to meet us back in the conference room asap.’

  She nodded as she merged onto the interstate. Half of her listened to her partner’s end of the conversation while the other half tried to connect the dots. Was it possible Hunter Jenkins and Evan Bishop were the same person? As she mentally moved the pieces around, something else tumbled into place. She shook her head hard in an attempt to erase the thought, her brain instinctively trying to swerve away from it, and in doing so, she yanked the steering wheel on the car, nearly cutting off an eighteen wheeler, who laid on its horn, scaring her back into her own lane.

  ‘Lys?’ Cord asked, having finished his conversation with the captain. He had one hand braced against the dash while the other reached for the handle above his head.

  In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to squeeze her eyes shut and close out the possibility of what she was about to say. Instead, she tightened her fingers and said out loud what she’d been thinking. ‘Remember how I said I believed Timmy’s murder was somehow related to Isaac’s kidnapping?’

  ‘Yes,’ her partner said, obviously confused.

  ‘Timmy’s full name was Timothy Evan Archer.’ She paused to let that sink in. ‘I don’t know who this Bishop person is, but I think he must’ve known my brother,’ she said at the same time another thought jarred her. ‘Pull that sketch out,’ she said, and when Cord did, she took her eyes off the road to glance over at it, her stomach tightening. ‘Isaac said he thought the guy was in his thirties or forties, remember?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ her partner said slowly.

  ‘Even though Carl Freeman – Timmy’s murderer,’ she reminded him, ‘was never caught, the authorities believed he always targeted boys with the same look and of the same age range, from four to seven.’ She choked as she thought about how truly young her brother had been when he was ripped from their family.

  ‘So, you’re thinking Evan Bishop is about the same age as Timmy would’ve been, and that he was one of Freeman’s victims?’ Cord clarified.

  She pursed her lips tightly and tipped her head forward in acknowledgement. Aside from the noise of traffic, the car was silent for a moment as the two of them tried digesting what this could mean. Finally, she broke the silence and said, ‘But what I don’t understand is how Bishop survived. Why didn’t Freeman murder him like he did the others?’

  Cord had a pen in his hand, and he tapped it rhythmically against his leg. ‘Not all the boys were found though, right?’

  Alyssa nodded. ‘Since Freeman was never caught, and the kidnappings and murders matching his MO just stopped, the authorities ran with the theory that he was likely dead.’ She peeked over at her partner. ‘Serial killers don’t just quit. They’re either captured
, killed, or die.’

  ‘Okay, let’s say Evan Bishop was one of Freeman’s victims,’ Cord said.

  She winced at the word. As a mother, she found it difficult to picture the man who’d tortured her son as anything but an evil being.

  Cord continued. ‘If we go on the theory that the authorities were right, and that Freeman died… maybe Evan Bishop simply outlived him.’ From the mesh pocket in the car’s door, he pulled out a notebook, flipped to a new page, and began writing as he spoke trying to put all the pieces of each of the puzzles together: Callie McCormick’s murder, the missing women cases, Evan Bishop/Hunter Jenkins, and Isaac’s kidnapping.

  ‘Okay, let’s start at the beginning. We now have a few common factors threaded through these events,’ he said as much to himself as to her. He drummed the pen against his jawline as he thought out loud. ‘We know Evan Bishop worked at the Old Country Feed Store where Evelyn Martin was headed the night she went missing. We also know he matches the composite sketch of Isaac’s kidnapper, and he and your brother have the name “Evan” in common.’

  Alyssa temporarily removed one hand from the wheel to press against her stomach but added to Cord’s train of thought. ‘We know Hunter Jenkins was an alias we now believe was taken on by Evan Bishop, and his fingerprint was lifted off Callie McCormick’s vehicle when he should’ve had no way to come into contact with it – unless he was involved in her kidnapping. And if he was involved with that,’ she said, ‘then it stands to reason he was also involved in her murder.’

  From the corner of her eye, she saw her partner’s hand hover over the page. Then he said, ‘Which leads us to Isaac’s kidnapping. From Holly, we know Jenkins – or Bishop – was in your neighborhood more than once before Isaac was taken, so…’

  Alyssa’s right foot pressed down harder on the accelerator, and she turned on her blinker before going around a slow-moving vehicle driving in the fast lane, barely resisting the urge to blast her horn.

  They made it back to the precinct in record time, and she and Cord had no sooner unlocked the door to the conference room and stepped inside with Liz and Tony than Joe came running up, Hal right on his heels.

  ‘We have a hit!’ Joe said, face red, his chest making wheezing sounds as he tried to catch his breath. ‘A hit?’ she asked, her heart thumping so wildly, she was certain everyone could see it. It was Hal who answered. ‘We ran some property searches of houses in Sandia Park, the Crest, and the surrounding areas based on Isaac’s description of the woods and where Tex Rivers said he picked him up.’

  Joe interrupted, waving a piece of paper in his hand. ‘Evan Bishop purchased that property nearly six months before Evelyn Martin went missing.’ His eyes wide, he glanced first at Alyssa, then the rest of the team. ‘Thing is, on paper, Bishop doesn’t exist until this property was purchased in cash.’ He rattled the paper again, as if that would shake the answers out.

  Hal wheeled his chair over so he could unroll a map squished beneath his arm. ‘Right here.’ He circled his finger around a highlighted area.

  Was it possible that Evan Bishop was yet another alias? Alyssa’s face felt flushed, and her fingers tingled. ‘I want a search warrant ordered for this place like yesterday!’ she snapped out.

  ‘Already called it in. Just have to head over to the courthouse to grab it,’ Joe said.

  ‘Then let’s go,’ she said, already heading for the door before Cord’s words sank in.

  ‘Do you think it’s wise for you to go, Alyssa?’

  She pulled up short. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ she asked, genuinely confused.

  ‘Think about it. This is the guy who took Isaac…’ Cord began.

  ‘Kidnapped. Kidnapped Isaac,’ Alyssa interrupted.

  ‘Okay, the guy who kidnapped Isaac… Do you want to jeopardize the entire case? They could say you contaminated evidence, even planted it.’

  Exasperated because a part of her knew he was right, she said, ‘I’m not going to jeopardize the case, Cord. I’m not stupid. Now, let’s go.’

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Tuesday, April 9, 3:15p.m.

  Evan swayed on his feet, watching in horror as two SUVs emblazoned with the APD logo pulled up next to his house. He’d been out walking off his nervous energy when they’d arrived. And now he stood behind a tree and listened as eight people rolled out of the vehicles. He could barely make out what was being said because of the blood rushing through his head. He moved a little closer, making sure he stayed hidden by the trees. And then he heard her as she hollered out, ‘Everyone, make sure your lapel cameras are on. I don’t want there to be any questions as to my whereabouts or what I was doing during the course of this investigation. We clear?’

  Alyssa! That selfish bitch was invading his sanctuary. How dare she! Rage flew through him, and it was all he could do to force himself to stand still. He knew if he’d had the gun, he would’ve shot her dead on the spot, not caring what happened next.

  Pounding footsteps as several officers went to the front door echoed through the trees, and Evan noticed the others stood off to the side and watched their surroundings.

  ‘Evan Bishop, this is the Albuquerque Police Department. We have a warrant to search these premises. Open up.’ A minute ticked by before they pounded again, repeating the same thing, but this time, adding, ‘Open up or we will use force.’ Silence greeted the warning, and so the officer announced, ‘We’re counting to ten, and then we’re coming in.’

  A female officer began the countdown as Evan watched Alyssa Wyatt’s steady gaze turn from the front door to scan the area, and he imagined she was thinking about her son’s escape.

  A few seconds later, a thundering boom echoed through the trees as two burly officers took a battering ram to his front door, crashing into it repeatedly until it fell inward.

  Observing the destruction of his property, and more importantly, his plans for revenge, Evan’s breath heaved in and out. Hatred stronger than anything he’d ever felt before rushed through his veins, making his vision cloudy. When the officers swarmed inside, he backed quietly down the hill. The only thing this changed was how he would make her pay. He was already conjuring up a new plan when he heard someone call out. ‘Detective, I think you need to see what we found in the basement.’

  Earlier that day, he’d pulled out his journal – the one detailing each of his women’s time in captivity. He’d planned on reading it to her, watching the horror wash over her face when she realized what he was capable of – how much worse he planned on making it for her and her family. But there was nothing that could be done about it now, so he slipped quietly away.

  * * *

  ‘Detective, I think you need to see what we found in the basement,’ an officer Alyssa knew as Hermosa called out to her.

  Without thinking, she stepped forward and then stopped. ‘I’d better not. Why don’t you tell me?’ she hollered back.

  Hermosa’s face was ashen as she came down the steps. ‘Vials of midazolam, syringes. Rolls of rope and duct tape. A gun. Your picture’s sitting on top of one of the mattresses in the basement. But that’s not all. There’s a shadowbox that contains some very disturbing items. I took a picture. I’ll show you.’

  Alyssa took the phone from the officer and used her fingers to enlarge the image. Her eyes fell to the items Hermosa had mentioned. ‘Is that a severed hand?’ she gasped, her stomach turning. At Hermosa’s nod, she pointed to the image of a jar. ‘What is that? Is – is that an eye?’ But before Hermosa could respond, something else in the picture drew her attention. Items that had gone missing from her home, things she’d assumed Holly had borrowed and not returned: her hair clip, her favorite lotion, a pink scarf – now sliced into ribbons – and a couple other of her belongings she hadn’t noticed were gone – were lined up neatly in a row on a mattress.

  Her jaw tightened as she realized the implication. ‘That bastard’s been in my house!’ She tossed Hermosa’s phone back to her and yanked her own out of her pocket. ‘Co
uld you send Cord out, please?’ she asked at the same time she dialed her husband.

  As soon as Brock answered, she took a deep, steadying breath and said, ‘Listen, I’m about to tell you something, and it’s going to freak you out a little – or a lot, really.’

  ‘Oh-kay,’ he said, drawing out the word. ‘Do I do that a lot – freak out?’ Before she could answer, her husband said, ‘Wait, you found out something about Isaac’s kidnapper, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But that’s not why I’m calling. We need to make sure the kids are never alone in the house.’ She forged ahead. ‘I can’t go into details now, but I have every reason to believe the kidnapper was in our house before he ever took Isaac.’

  ‘What? I’m on my way home now,’ he said.

  Alyssa heard a crash, and she imagined her husband had probably exploded from his chair with such force, it had hit the wall. ‘As soon as I hang up, I’m placing a call to Hammond. I want police guards stationed at both schools’ front and back entrances, as well as the house security beefed up. In fact, I’d feel better if you went and picked them up from school and went somewhere safe… maybe even your mom’s… until I can get home.’

  ‘Was already planning it,’ Brock said.

  ‘Let me know when you’re all together,’ she said and then ended the call, looking over to her partner who’d come out as soon as Hermosa had let him know. He hadn’t overheard the entire conversation, but he’d heard enough.

  He wiped one hand over his face. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ve got some more news for you. I really wish I had a chair to give you right now because I think you’re going to need it.’ He took a deep breath before he broke the news, so Alyssa knew it was going to be big.