Invitation to Die

by Jaden Skye

  *

  Café Bara was a small street café nestled on a narrow block lined with brownstones, a few blocks from the FBI offices. Known for its delicious pastries and coffee, the place was usually full. Tracy walked over slowly, wondering what to expect. As she walked a few guys who were passing by turned and looked at her approvingly.

  The afternoon had turned slightly breezy, with the feeling of rain in the air. As Tracy drew closer to the café, she saw a stout middle-aged man with sandy hair, dressed in khakis and a casual shirt. He was standing in the front of the café, looking around. In one sense he seemed entirely ordinary, no one you would give a second glance. In another sense, he captured Tracy’s attention immediately.

  As soon as she got closer Tracy checked the café and saw two plainclothesmen seated there, drinking coffee. They noticed her immediately and nodded. Tracy returned the greeting, then walked right over to Tad and extended her hand.

  “Tad Warehouse?” she said.

  Tad stood very still and looked at her carefully. “Tracy Wrenn,” he replied. “You’re even better looking than your photos.”

  “Thanks,” said Tracy, “that’s nice of you.”

  “And you actually showed up.” Tad looked both pleased and surprised. “You’re a maverick. I like that.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Tracy decided to be casual about everything as she glanced into his gray eyes. Although there was a sense of disarray about him, he also seemed clever. There was a sense of familiarity about him, too, as if he were someone you passed in the street every day. Of course Tracy couldn’t allow herself to be lulled in by his easygoing persona. She had to stay on guard.

  “Let’s get some coffee and sit down,” Tracy suggested.

  “I’ll grab the coffee and pastries,” said Tad. “You go sit down and hold a spot. This place fills up fast when you’re not expecting it. Better take a table where no one can hear us, too, over there in the rear.”

  Except for the plainclothesmen, the café was nearly empty so the idea of it filling up fast seemed unlikely. Tracy decided to go along with his suggestion anyway, see what he had in mind.

  Tracy walked to a small glass table in the rear, sat down, and waited for Tad to return. It was nice sitting outdoors, taking a few moments to have a coffee. Beyond that Tracy was curious to find out more about him. She wondered how he was connected to the case and why he cared so much.

  Tad returned with two coffees and pastries, and placed them carefully in front of Tracy.

  “Enjoy yourself,” he said, as he sat down beside her, suddenly reminding her of her uncle Rex. For a second Tracy smiled. That was exactly what her uncle would have said.

  “You’re a generous man, Tad,” she remarked.

  He grinned, liking that. “If you want more pastries I’ll go get them,” he said as he took a drink of his coffee.

  Tracy picked up a chocolate pastry and nibbled it slowly. “What is it you have to tell me?” she asked.

  “Number one,” he answered quickly, “you can’t let this killer get away. He’s on a roll, he’ll kill again. Any fool can see that. And after that he’ll kill again.”

  “Tell me more, Tad.” Tracy shivered.

  Tad plunged in. “The number one problem you’ve got is that law enforcement doesn’t think out of the box. Cops dump suspects into little categories and then stick to them. That’s a big mistake, Tracy. Cops refuse to look out of the box or take real chances.” He paused and stared into her eyes.

  “ I agree,” Tracy breathed.

  “I know you do,” Tad seemed pleased. “That’s why we’re talking, you get it. Most don’t even listen when I call on the phone. You’re not like that though, Tracy. I knew it right away. You even dared to break protocol and come meet me in person.”

  “Thanks,” Tracy murmured, fascinated. There was truth to what Tad was saying, she’d felt the same way about law enforcement herself. And she liked breaking protocol. Tracy knew she had to steep herself in the world of the crime and honor leads that came unexpectedly from strange places. She had to enter the mind of the killer to get a sense of where he was lurking and why.

  “What makes you so different?” Tad asked then, smiling and exposing his tiny, uneven teeth.

  Tracy smiled back at him. “I’m not important, this is not about me,” she answered. “We don’t want to get off track.”

  Tad liked her answer. “Right on,” he said. “We have plenty of time to find out more about everything.”

  Tracy frowned slightly, wondering what he had in mind. “Later on? How about now?” She wanted to keep him focused.

  Tad laughed. “You’re smart, too, and you don’t pull any punches.”

  What are we missing, Tad? And who are you? Why are you so involved in this case, anyway?” Tracy enjoyed turning the tables on him now.

  Tad didn’t hesitate a second. “I’m freelance, a writer,” he commented offhandedly. “Nothing escapes my attention. I follow the news, do careful research. Like everyone else I’ve been tracking these murders from day one. They’re bothering me.”

  Tracy lifted her coffee and let the light breeze blow her hair. She did not feel endangered speaking to Tad. Most likely he spent most of his life on the sidelines and wanted his chance to now step into the action. She couldn’t fault him for that. She also couldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

  “I’m glad you care,” she commented, wanting him to feel at ease with her as well.

  “I more than care,” Tad muttered, “I have tips for you. Follow them.”

  “Okay, go on,” Tracy insisted.

  “If you walk by the Charles River late at night you’ll see all kinds of guys hanging around there. They hang in the shadows. It’s a good bet he’s one of them,” said Tad.

  Tracy felt startled by the specificity of his comment. “What makes you think that?”

  Tad leaned closer to her. “When it’s late and it’s dark and there’s no one around, the lowlifes come roaming. They need company, too. They lurk in the shadows and look at each other then, never coming close.”

  Tracy took a ragged breath. There were hundreds of amateur detectives out there with ideas about what to do. Was Tad really just a harmless loner, or was there more going on?

  “I’m sure the police patrol the Charles River at night,” Tracy countered.

  “Not the way they should,” Tad insisted. “They don’t hang out in the shadows, late at night, in plain clothes and talk to whoever they see.”

  How would he know about these guys in the shadows? Is that where he hung out? Tracy wondered.

  “Do you hang out at the Charles River at night?” Tracy decided to confront him directly, shake him off his game.

  Tad chuckled at that, though. “Suspecting me?” He suddenly grinned.

  “Should I?” asked Tracy, leaning back and catching the eyes of the plainclothesmen close behind.

  “Sure you should.” Tad laughed louder. “You should suspect everyone. You’ve got a sneaky guy on the loose. But it’s not me. I’m here to help you. I want to find him as bad as you do.”

  “Where were you when Tina went missing?” Tracy shifted. “How about Shannon and Candace?”

  Tad looked at Tracy approvingly. “I was at work all the time and I have names of people who saw me there,” he answered quickly. “And I’m glad you asked. You’re careful.”

  “They saw you at work as a freelance reporter?” Tracy pushed further.

  “No, along with being freelance, I’m in the food business,” Tad remarked.

  “You can give me the names of people who saw you at your job?” Tracy asked.

  “Yes, I can and I will,” Tad answered quickly. “Check them out as soon as you can. Then go tell your boss to put detectives at the Charles River.”

  Tracy felt more at ease about him then. She doubted she could convince any of the guys in the office to send detectives to the Charles River based on this interview, though.

  “Now, don’t get
me wrong, I’m not suggesting you go yourself,” Tad clarified his suggestion.. “This isn’t the work for a woman, anyway, is it?”

  Tracy finished what was left of her coffee. “Of course it is,” she countered quickly. “Women are terrific at tracking down killers. And for all we know, the killer could even be a woman herself.”

  At that Tad scraped his chair back. “No, never. I assure you. Women are weaker than men, they can’t fight off an invader.”

  “It’s possible, though, that a woman’s involved in these crimes, isn’t it?” Tracy felt driven to make her point strongly. The guys at the office hadn’t been willing to consider it either, but Tracy was oddly enjoying the conversation with Tad. She was glad she came. Despite Tad’s odd manner, he was a simple and forthright man. She felt his alibi would check out, too. “Isn’t it possible that a woman assisted the killer?” Tracy continued. “After all, he kept the second victim alive for almost two weeks. He needed help doing that, didn’t he?”

  “Not necessarily.” Tad’s teeth ground together. “A guy who could do something like that knows what he’s doing. This killer has everything planned, down to the second the victim’s life is going to end. A guy like that is someone who deserves to be killed himself. On the spot. I want to help you find him and be there when he’s strung up!”

  Tracy felt Tad’s fervor. “Do you live close by in Boston?” Tracy asked then.

  “What difference does that make?” Tad was put off by the question. “I do, but it’s irrelevant. We have to stay relevant, Tracy, we really do.”

  Tracy tapped her fingers slowly on the table to keep grounded and clear. She decided to change the course of the conversation. Even though Tad seemed odd on the surface, guys like him often had tidbits of information that were helpful. They saw aspects of the case that eluded others.

  “Did you know any of the victims personally, Tad?”

  Tad gurgled a little, a low laugh. “I read about them in the papers like everyone else. By now I feel as though I know all of them, though.”

  “What did the killer want with them? Where did he keep them?” Tracy plowed on. “Is this killer a guy who wants power over women? Does he hate all of them?”

  “He loves them,” Tad whispered then gruffly.

  Tracy stared at him, suddenly frightened.

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  “Loves them?” she whispered.

  “The idiot wants to protect them,” Tad continued. “He knows they’re in for trouble and he wants to grab them before things get worse. But there’s something wrong with him, very wrong.”

  “What is it?” asked Tracy.

  “I’m not sure, I don’t know,” said Tad. “If I knew, believe me, he’d be caught by now.”

  “Where did you get the idea that the killer loves women?” Tracy was fascinated.

  “All men basically love women,” Tad continued, flushing. “They just don’t feel good enough to get the woman’s love back.”

  “Would that be a reason for them to kill?” Tracy dug in.

  “Anything is a reason for a killer to kill,” Tad’s face had a snarl about it. “He can use any excuse he wants, can’t he? But the truth is, a killer needs to kill. And he’ll find any opportunity he can to do it.” Obviously, Tad had dwelled on this for a long, long time.

  Tracy thought about what he was saying. Was it true that deeply lodged within a killer was a basic need to destroy life? Was this need inborn? Some killers came from wonderful backgrounds, others’ lives had been hell. Something deeper than their background was definitely at work.

  Tracy was interested to know more about Tad and his relationship with women.

  “Are you married, Tad?” she asked.

  “Let’s not get personal, Tracy.” Tad pulled back.

  Tracy paused for a long moment. She didn’t want to offend him. Quite likely he’d been hurt in love, like everyone else. Tad just took it more to heart, thought about it more carefully. His comments were fascinating, though and Tracy wanted to hear more of what he had to say.

  “Besides the Charles River at night, where else should we look for the killer, Tad?” Tracy plunged forward.

  “I’d look for the killer in places women go, like to get their nails done, their hair colored, where they pick out a baby’s layette,” he said. “Just look at the victims he chose and you’ll figure it out.”

  “Bridal salons?” Tracy asked, staring at him deeply. Candace had been about to be a bride, and of course that was reported in all the papers.

  “Why not a bridal salon?” Tad grinned. “All of that.”

  “But who should we look for?” asked Tracy.

  “Any guy who’s hanging around there and doesn’t belong. You know the drill.” Tad grew heated. “Nab the bastard, bring him in. Question him until he’s exhausted. Bring me in to help, if you want. I know how to get the truth of him.”

  Tad’s sudden burst of fury unnerved Tracy.

  Tad collected himself quickly though. “Listen, I have a right to be upset, don’t I?” This rotten jerk’s got all of Boston on edge. Our daughters, our sisters aren’t safe anymore.”

  “Do you have a daughter or sister you’re concerned about?” Tracy asked quickly.

  “Everyone’s my daughter and sister,” Tad replied, “I care about them all. Don’t I have a right to be upset?”

  “Of course you have a right to be upset,” murmured Tracy. “And I’m grateful that you care so much. You made some good suggestions, too, Tad. I’m going to mention them to my superiors.”

  Tad got up swiftly then. “You don’t have any superiors,” he mumbled. “You’re the best there is. No one’s better. I’m glad you listened, really glad. We’ll talk more later.” Then he ran his hands through his sandy hair. “We will talk more later, won’t we?”

  “Call me anytime you have something to add,” Tracy responded carefully. “I’ll always be pleased to take your call.”

  “Take my call? That’s it? Aren’t we going to meet up like this again?” Tad was jarred.

  “Of course we can meet again,” said Tracy, uneasy. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel rejected after he’d made such an effort to be of help.

  *

  When Tracy arrived back at the FBI offices, Hunter was waiting for her.

  “Your meeting with the caller lasted more than half an hour,” he said. “It’s almost four thirty. Wess will be here any minute now.”

  “Oh my goodness,” said Tracy. She hadn’t realized how long she’d spent with Tad.

  “Who’s this caller, anyway?” Hunter seemed nervous. “What did he have to say?”

  Tracy went over the content of her interview with Tad and Hunter looked definitely unimpressed.

  “Sounds like the garden variety nut job,” he finally replied. “There are tons of them out there, each one with a different theory. But what difference does it make?”

  “I thought Tad had some interesting suggestions and comments,” said Tracy. “I like his idea that the killer loves women, is trying to protect them in his way. That gives me another perspective. He would definitely not be a psychopath then.”

  Hunter looked discouraged. “Where is all this getting us anyway? So what if he does or doesn’t love women? Candace is still missing, two women are dead. And we still don’t have a suspect.”

  “Tad wants to meet with me again,” Tracy said softly. “He’s on the case, prowling around.”

  “He’s an amateur, and this is a completely ridiculous waste of time.” Hunter wasn’t going for it. “What’s he doing, going out late at night to the Charles River and talking to losers who hang around? There are lots of guys who fantasize that they’re helping the police. They think they’re smarter than us, better than us. In their imagination! That’s all. Don’t waste your time with this character. We have to try something really new.”

  Time flew by as Tracy and Hunter spoke. Before they realized it, it was almost five thirty.

  Hunter suddenly looked at his wat
ch. “Where the hell’s your creepy boyfriend? He said he’d be here at four thirty.”

  Tracy pulled out her phone to call him again, see where he was. He didn’t pick up.

  “Go have dinner,” Tracy said to Hunter then. “I’ll stay here and wait for him alone.”

  “No, you won’t.” Hunter was irritated. “I’m waiting here with you. There’s something wrong with this guy, he’s off. You could be in danger with him, for all you know. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in law enforcement got involved with a person on the edge. We attract all kinds, don’t we?”

  Hunter’s words landed like a lead ball in Tracy’s gut. Was there something wrong with Wess that she’d never realized? How could she have missed something like that?

  By seven, Wess still hadn’t arrived. “Something could have happened to him,” Tracy said, nervous.

  “Whatever happened or didn’t happen, one way or another he could have gotten in touch,” Hunter mumbled. “He stood you up, Tracy, face it. This guy’s having a great time playing with

  your head.”

  *

  Tracy finally left to return to her hotel to have dinner, unwind, and go over what they had so far. She had no idea what happened to Wess or why he hadn’t called. Was Hunter right? Was Wess way off? Hunter had been lovely to stay and wait for Wess with her, but it was also quite clear that Hunter didn’t want to have dinner with her again tonight,

  “I’ve got a lot of work to go over,” Hunter had said when they’d decided to call it a day. He was going home to do it alone. Tracy was fine with it. She was tired herself.

  She walked the few blocks to the hotel as a light rain started to fall. Tracy loved rain in the springtime. It felt good, soothing, sprinkling her face. Refreshed, Tracy entered her hotel and took the elevator upstairs. The elevator stopped at her floor and Tracy got out and walked down the hallway to her room.

  When she got there, she stopped cold. A wave of fear came over her. Her door open, left ajar. Someone had been in her room.

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