Grave Instinct

by Robert W. Walker

“All right, we'll keep them on a secondary list. For now, let's be strict on ourselves.”

  As a result, a number of new names appeared that had previously been eliminated because they'd not been placed on VICAP, as Swantor and Wells had. Those doctors and butchers who were never listed with VICAP, some twenty-six in all, accounted for a significant reduction of suspects, if Jessica's theory held up.

  The remaining names were then broken down into two lists according to profession. Jessica handed the lists to Eriq Here's some that almost got by us,” she said, “the doctors on the tips list who have no previous record.”

  “Bring up the actual files on each tip, please, Dana,” asked Eriq.

  The tips appeared in all cases but one to be feeble. The best tip, in everyone's estimation, had come from another physician. A Dr. Mitchell Erdman who claimed that he had worked with a Dr. Grant Kenyon at Mt. Holyoke Memorial Hospital in New Jersey, where he witnessed the disappearance of brains from cadavers.

  “This could lead to something,” muttered Jessica, hopeful it was so.

  “Bingo time, if you ask me!” J.T. added.

  “Like Daryl, stealing brains from dead people,” said Eriq.

  “Another coincidence, New Jersey's home for this guy. Not far from Morristown. Cahil's stomping grounds,” said Jessica.

  “Place must breed brain-eaters,” replied J.T.

  Jessica held her breath and read on. Erdman claimed that Kenyon lost his position at the hospital in mid-May. That's pretty close to when the first killing took place back in June. “Traumatic event like being fired could have triggered latent violent aggressiveness.”

  They attempted to locate and speak to Erdman, but the hospital said that he had left with no forwarding address. Jessica identified herself as an FBI agent and pressed the operator to put her on with the senior most person at the hospital. After some confusion and several transfers, a Dr. Bondesen came on, saying that he could speak for Mt. Holyoke Hospital. She questioned him about Erdman's allegations against Dr. Kenyon. The man began stammering before he could say, “Neither of these gentlemen work here any longer and—”

  “Doctor, I want to know exactly what went on there. We are hunting a brain-stealing killer you know in the press as the Skull-digger. We need your complete and honest cooperation, sir.”

  Bondesen cleared his throat and said, “Erdman found it difficult to work in the morgue where Dr. Kenyon had previously worked. Nightmares, you know, over what he allegedly saw.”

  “ 'Allegedly? Did you or did you not fire Grant Kenyon over these allegations?”

  “We did fire him, but not due to Erdman's wild accusations. More to the point, he was fired because he was exhibiting shoddy work. His mind never seemed on the job at hand, you see.”

  “Didn't anyone there, aside from Erdman, think that Kenyon's behavior might be connected to the Skull-digger case?”

  “But you have someone in custody for those awful murders.”

  “There may be accomplices,” she gave the standard reply.

  “But you see, we ... we sealed all information on the allegations against Kenyon as a courtesy to Dr. Kenyon, and we gave Grant's position to Dr. Erdman—all this in return for both men remaining silent.”

  “To protect the integrity of the hospital.”

  “And the families involved.”

  Eriq picked up another phone and came on the line, bursting into the conversation, introducing himself and adding, “Well, now, Dr. Bondesen, you can expect all that was sealed regarding this case open to scrutiny by the FBI, the press and the world if you fail to cooperate now. I will have a field representative sent within the hour to take charge of both Kenyon's file and Erdman's. Is that clear?”

  “Ahhh, yes, quite clear.”

  “And I want social security numbers on both Kenyon and Erdman. Can you give them to me now please?” Eriq requested.

  After hanging up, with the numbers in hand, Eriq turned to Dana, “Get us a location fix on a Dr. Mitchell Erdman. Also get a location on this guy Kenyon.”

  Dana stroked in Erdman's number and began the search. “He's out of the country on a passport. Philippines, it appears.”

  J.T. said, “I'll see what I can do to get in touch with him.”

  Dana then attempted to locate Kenyon.

  Eriq was on the phone with the closest FBI field office to Holyoke, New Jersey. He informed the agent there to immediately get to the hospital, speak to Bondesen only, and take charge of the two personnel files in question.

  Jessica watched as Dana's screen instantly filled with information on Kenyon, down to a map of precisely where he lived in Holyoke, New Jersey. His telephone number was also listed.

  Jessica returned to the phone and dialed the number. A woman answered.

  After Jessica introduced herself, Mrs. Kenyon gasped into the phone and pleaded, “Have you found Grant? Have you? Is he alive . . . please tell me he's alive!”

  “Are you saying he is not currently at this residence, Mrs. Kenyon?”

  “I reported him missing months ago! I thought that's what you were calling about.”

  “This is the FBI ma'am. Do you know a Dr. Erdman, Mrs. Kenyon, a man who once worked with your husband?”

  “He was my husband's assistant, yes.”

  “And there was some unpleasantness between them to cause Dr. Kenyon to leave his position.” “Yes, but...”

  “And then Dr. Kenyon simply disappeared?”

  “Yes . . . yes, that's about it, yes.”

  “Can you give me any details about what happened at the hospital between your husband and Dr. Erdman?”

  “Erdman stole Grant's job. That's what he told me. Said Erdman had backstabbed him. I only know that he lied about Grant.”

  “About the brains you mean? Taking them from the morgue?”

  “Nothing mysterious, really. He was conducting a series of experiments. So he needed the . . . needed them for study.”

  “What sort of study?”

  “Something to do with some sort of bacterial infection and any number of debilitating diseases, like Lupus, Alzheimer's. Grant told me that men had within their skulls three brains, not one: the mammalian brain, the reptilian brain and the human brain. And that many brain disorders mimicked animal disorders, and he was out to find a cure.”

  “I see.” Jessica realized the woman was in denial.

  “Mrs. Kenyon, what kind of vehicle does your husband drive?”

  “He left me the car. He took the van.”

  “I'll need the license plate number, make and model of the van, and any distinguishing marks. A scratch, a dent or missing fender. And we'll need any credit card numbers you have that are his.”

  “What is this all about?”

  “We want to find your missing husband, Mrs. Kenyon, and we can do that if he uses a credit card. And if he contacts you, we want to know. Call me immediately at either of these numbers,” Jessica relayed her cell phone number and her office number. “And I'd like to send agents to your house to—”

  “My God . . . You people think he's the Skull-digger, don't you?”

  “Have you had such thoughts, Mrs. Kenyon?”

  “Is he a suspect?”

  Jessica decided to be direct with her. “He's a suspect, yes.”

  “I thought so. It's that awful Dr. Erdman at work again. He's trying to ruin Grant. I know it. If anyone's a killer, it's Erdman.”

  “We suspect that your husband made numerous contacts via E-mail to a man named Cahil, a man we have in custody in connection with the murders, Mrs. Kenyon.”

  “Cahil? The man who robbed children's graves?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Ten years ago, it was all over the news. Grant was fascinated with the case.”

  “Mrs. Kenyon, exactly when did your husband disappear?”

  “Two days after losing his job, May eighteenth.”

  Jessica thought, How perfect . . . two weeks before the discovery of the first victim. Mo
re and more, Jessica believed she had found the Seeker. “Mrs. Kenyon, do you have a computer in the house that your husband would have used? And do you know his password? Is he using the name Seeker when he logs on?”

  “I . . . no, he has a laptop, but he doesn't let me near it. Says all his research is in there, and no, he would never tell me his password or call name.”

  “We believe your husband is dangerous, Mrs. Kenyon, and we fear he will strike again. He already has in fact.”

  “That's sheer nonsense.” Mrs. Kenyon began weeping. She groaned. “I'm certain you people are wrong. I know Erdman must have lied to you, too. Grant would never harm anyone, ever. I'd stake my life on it.”

  Jessica heard a child crying in the background. “And your child's life, Mrs. Kenyon? Would you take that risk?”

  Mrs. Kenyon's tears erupted. Jessica had to calm her. “As long as he's out there, Mrs. Kenyon, he poses a danger to himself and others. We need your help and cooperation if he's to be safely brought in and questioned.” Even as she said it, Jessica knew that she'd rather see Kenyon killed in the field than get the kind of treatment Daryl had gotten at the taxpayers' expense.

  “We would like to post FBI men at your house, and put a tracer on your phone, in case he should call.”

  “All right, whatever you think is best, but in all this time, he hasn't bothered to contact us.”

  Who knows. He may get homesick, Jessica thought but did not say. “I'm going to put you on with my associate, Dana. She's going to take down all the information I asked for on your husband. And can you find a recent photograph of your husband?”

  “I'm sure I can.”

  “Hand it over to the agent who comes to your door. He'll get it to us. And thank you, Mrs. Kenyon.”

  She handed the phone to Dana, took a deep breath and wondered if she dared believe that they finally had something tangible to go on. Could Kenyon be the Seeker and the Seeker be the Skull-digger? Mrs. Kenyon had said her husband had been fascinated with Cahil's case; it would then figure that he would be a frequent visitor to the website.

  THIRTEEN

  Who am in the night, will move into today.

  —GIORDANO BRUNO, 1548-1600

  The same night 11:45 P.M.

  JESSICA and her skeletal team were working around the clock now that the AOC files were available to them. The photo of Kenyon, provided by Mrs. Emily Kenyon, cooperating with local FBI in New Jersey, was immediately used to place features on the phantom, and now he looked out from the FBI's Most Wanted website. By tomorrow morning, his image would be duplicated and sent out across the country, putting his likeness on every TV and newsstand and post office as a suspect in the Skull-digger murders.

  Jessica stared into the screen image of Dr. Grant Kenyon in suit and tie. For all the world, he looked normal and healthy, certainly far from a mad killer. There were no stones for eyes, no overhanging brow, no scars or misshapen features. In fact, he was handsome in his three-piece suit. Quite urbane, she thought. No one would guess him to be a brain cannibal. Nonetheless, everything pointed to Kenyon as the real Digger, who'd led them on this horrific chase.

  Armed with the photograph of Kenyon and the make, model and the by-now-discarded license plate number of the van belonging to the missing doctor, Jessica believed for the first time that they actually had a bead on the right man, the real brain thief.

  Among the names found on Cahil's subscribers according to AOC files was Grant Kenyon, using the handle of “Seeker.” His most recent online correspondences, some arguing with Cahil over statements and beliefs Daryl professed, some chatting with young people, had been from library terminals, making his contacts as he moved. These E-mails corresponded by time and place in or around the cities that the Skull-digger had visited and left victims. All indications pointed toward Kenyon.

  A telephone call came through to the task force ready room. It was from authorities in New Orleans. Jessica put it on the speakerphone for all to hear. Two police officers had been shotgunned to death after giving chase to a dark green Chrysler '96 or '97 with a kidnap victim named Selese Montoya inside.

  The report came two hours after the incident, from Field Agent Michael Sorrento, placed on conference call. Jessica informed Sorrento of their new suspect and that he need only go to the Most Wanted Web page. “You can toss that lousy sketch we've been using. It was way off.”

  “Did anyone get the license plate?” asked J.T., joining Jessica at the wall map, which they used to trace the killer's known movements.

  “One of the lost officers called in a partial number on a Georgia plate. Likely stolen during his time in Savannah,” replied Sorrento.

  A look at the map showed how close New Orleans was to Mobile. J.T. said, “He's most likely switched out the plate with another one. His original plate is New Jersey 14H-555.” After shooting down two police officers, he's got to be feeling the heat,” replied Jessica. “He's got to find a hole to hide in.”

  Sorrento in New Orleans said, “He has every cop in the city dedicated to one thing—locating that van and putting an end to his sorry ass. But he's got the hostage; abducted the woman right off the street.”

  “He's got to dispose of the van or disguise it again,” said Jessica.

  Sorrento informed them that he had alerted local authorities along the I-10 corridor west of New Orleans with the description and last-known partial license number. “I'll get word out on the photo. We're canvassing all body shops in the manhunt for a van fitting the description.”

  “He's most likely to feed on his latest victim and dump the body before he attempts to rid himself of the van,” Jessica predicted. “He may dump the van with the body this time.”

  “We're on highest alert status,” Sorrento assured her. “Thanks for forwarding this creep's likeness. Have it up on my computer now. Too bad Labruto and Doyle didn't have more to go on. Maybe if they had . . . who knows . . .”

  “I'm coming there, Agent Sorrento,” said Jessica. “I'll want to examine the bodies and be on hand when you apprehend this creep. He can't get far now.”

  “We'll get him,” Sorrento assured her.

  She hung up and stared from Eriq to J.T. “John, find out whatever else you can about Grant Kenyon.” She then turned to Eriq and added, “And I want full support from our field office down there. Not like the last time I went to New Orleans on a case.”

  “You'll get full cooperation, Jess. And my apologies. You were right about this all along.”

  Jessica was on her way out the door when J.T. shouted, “Hold on, Jess!” He pointed to Cahil's website on the computer screen, which he'd been monitoring for activity. The screen had come alive with a digitized image, that of a man struggling for consciousness, but not just any man. It was Grant Kenyon's live image being e-mailed to them. J.T. stammered. “It's him ... I believe it's Grant Kenyon.”

  “The Seeker is finally checking in?” she asked, rushing to J.T.'s side. Eriq joined them. They were treated to a glimpse of Kenyon, out cold, lying against a bloodstained pillow in a sparse room with only a bed and a nightstand, possibly a hotel room. It appeared the camera was moving, all the angles going from side to side, up and down—sometimes jarringly so.

  “He looks as if he's on something,” said J.T.

  “Blood stains on the pillow.”

  “Who's photographing him?” asked J.T.

  “He's trying to say something,” added Eriq. “His lips are moving.”

  Then the image was gone. Jessica said, “What's going on? Where's it coming from? Is he sending the image?”

  “No, it's another subscriber, calls himself SquealsLoud,” replied J.T.

  “Run him down, J.T. We've got to know who that is.”

  J.T. ran the image back. Eriq asked, “Could this have been on a delay, a timer? He's fucking with us.”

  “No . . . no, that was live, happening now,” J.T. in-formed him.

  Eriq asked, “You supposing this other Cahil groupie has Kenyon and what? He
's holding out for some sort of reward?”

  “He's got to contact us again. Meanwhile, we'll be tracing him,” replied J.T..

  “Whoever has him seems nervous. Couldn't hold the camera steady,” said Jessica. “Yeah, it was shaky.”

  “Replay it,” said Eriq.

  By now everyone in the room had gathered around J.T.'s seat, craning for a look at Kenyon.

  J.T. replayed the incoming message. They watched the short clip again.

  Eriq said, “He's not doing anything but lying there, muttering to himself.”

  “I'm sure I can hack back to this guy, and if he's in the AOC files we've downloaded, we'll get him,” said J.T.

  “OK,” said Jessica. “Run a geographic list for anyone on our final list who lives in or around New Orleans. Right now, we only know of two—this Wells guy and Swantor. Get someone in Mississippi to visit Elixir, and someone in Louisiana to pay a call to this Grand Isle to check in with Swantor's residence. See if all is kosher there.”

  “But neither Swantor nor Wells are on our single-complaint list,” countered Eriq, holding it up.

  “At the moment, they're the only two we know of with residences in or near New Orleans.”

  Eriq said, “Wouldn't it be just poetic to learn that his latest abductee is shooting the footage?”

  “Too good to be true,” she replied.

  “More likely, he's hooked up with another psycho user on Daryl's loony website, and judging from the blood, they didn't quite get along,” added J.T.

  “Perhaps a like-minded psycho,” replied Jessica. “We know how many have gravitated to Cahil's website. It's like a fulcrum for fanatics.”

  Eriq said, “The two witnesses to this guy's crimes have said he acted alone. So maybe he did hook up with another Cahil nutcase, and they had a falling out.”

  J.T. added, “I've seen some E-mails between this Squeals Loud character and the Seeker, and so if he is in the Orleans area ...”

  “We need to check for anyone who got cozy with Kenyon in the chat rooms, who happens to live in and around New Orleans,” said Jessica.