Deep as the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  “You think he was an arsonist for hire?”

  Jonah nodded his shaved head at Ethan’s question. “Both of his colleagues brought up the possibility without any prompting from me.”

  It was Steve Friedrich’s turn. “I chased down the latest leads from the tip line we set up for anyone who might have seen our white cargo van in the vicinity of Fundy National Park while Paulus was there. It was a bust, as expected.”

  “As always, I appreciate your efforts. We got the go-ahead for a province-wide stop-and-search of every older white Econoline van. You can track the ones in New Brunswick. We’re looking for alibis for all four recent homicides.” The three Mounties nodded in unison. “Nyle has finished with the toll-road cameras which catch vehicles entering Nova Scotia from New Brunswick on both driving routes. He’ll pass those on. Same protocol. Any of the owners farther than a couple of hours away from can be left to local RCMP departments.”

  “Did you find anything of value at the crime scene?” McManus asked.

  “The forensic ident unit got clear casts of tire marks left by the van,” Ethan told them. He told them about the witness who’d led Nyle and Alexa there. “We also got some tire prints from what might have been a dolly and some footprints behind it. He would have wheeled the body through the woods and down to the water’s edge. It’s all more evidence to build the case against the offender, once he’s in custody.”

  He looked at Nyle, who took the opportunity to fill in the other men about the delivery to Alexa that day.

  “This isn’t good, Doc.” The two older men flanking Steve nodded at his statement. “I mean, I’m not the profiler here, but once this guy starts engaging with a member of the task force, stuff gets freaky.”

  Smiling slightly, Alexa said, “That’s a pretty good description of today’s events.” Not for the life of her would she show just how much the delivery had shaken her. “But I look at it a bit differently. An offender changing his behavior after sticking with it so rigidly for years is indeed alarming. It can precede an escalation, or make him harder to predict. But it also offers opportunities to get inside his head a bit more. One thing I gleaned from his written communication today is that we might have an offender who believes he’s doing God’s work.”

  The expressions on the officers’ faces showed just how unimpressed they were by that. “They all have some cop-out motivation,” Jonah remarked.

  “Yes, one that absolves them of responsibility. But I want to tug on that thread a bit more. I might be able to use it when I communicate with the UNSUB directly. This deviation is useful to us because he’s now taking risks that he never has before. To have that…object delivered today, he had to linger in the vicinity of the dump site. Or he returned to the area,” Alexa corrected herself. “We have no way of knowing if he went back to his lair first. He spoke to someone who can offer a description. We may yet find a local business that picked him up on a security camera.” She and Nyle had gone to all the local businesses and asked them to check their feeds for the van or a man fitting Patrick’s description. “When he strays outside his usual comfort zone, he’s more apt to make mistakes. And one of them might help us catch him.”

  “He’s using a disguise, as I’ve noted in the update I sent you,” Ethan put in. “And according to our young witness, he has a limp. Right leg. That’s a detail we didn’t have before.”

  Alexa wondered for the first time if the injury to the UNSUB’s leg came at Fornier’s hand.

  “Are you having a forensic artist work with the wit?” This from Jonah.

  Ethan nodded. “The boy’s parents agreed to bring him to Halifax RCMP tomorrow morning for that appointment.”

  “Maybe you’ll get it in time to include it in tomorrow’s press conference.”

  “If it’s available we’ll use it. Even with the wig and mustache the offender sported, it gives us another drawing of the guy. The more accurate the sketches are, the more he’s going to feel like the walls are closing in on him.” Ethan’s voice held a note of certainty. “We’ve got descriptions of him and the vehicle he drives. The net is getting tighter, gentlemen. When he realizes that, he’s going to panic. And when that happens, we’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It was disturbing to be back at the hotel where they’d spent a sleepless night after searching for Lawler. They’d returned much too late to consider switching to a less-expensive place. That would have to wait until morning. But Alexa wouldn’t be sorry to leave this reminder of their failure to save the UNSUB’s latest victim.

  Jeanette Lawler’s next of kin had been notified. The ripples that radiated from death were far-reaching, touching family, friends, colleagues, employers. And in Lawler’s case, an entire viewing audience. That wouldn’t occur to the UNSUB. Lack of empathy was ingrained in his psyche. For the offender, Lawler’s life began and ended with him.

  After agreeing on their meet time the next morning, Ethan, Alexa and Nyle went their separate ways. She figured the men had to be as exhausted as she was. She collected the new laptop and tablet that she’d had delivered there, then returned to her room to shower. After ordering room service, she set up the devices and plugged in the flash drive to transfer her files to the computer before starting on her press conference remarks for tomorrow. She worked for a couple of hours, revising and fine-tuning her statement until she set the task aside. No doubt there would be further changes before she and Ethan went on air. And if he had his way, her portion would be scrapped altogether.

  Ethan. His feelings about Gagnon’s orders had been all too easy to read. As a consultant, Alexa had butted heads with members of an investigation before. It wasn’t unusual for the brass and the agents on the ground to have far different ideas about her role in the case. She almost always sided with the investigators; they were the ones closest to the case. In those instances, she went to bat for them with the administration, as she had when Ethan had warned against releasing the profile. But in this case, she agreed with Gagnon. If the UNSUB continued to communicate with her, it would be for his own reasons. And she’d engage, to further the investigation.

  Which meant she’d better get used to Ethan’s disapproval.

  A ringing sound emanated from the new laptop. It took a moment for Alexa to realize it was the alert for an incoming FaceTime call. Recognizing Adam Raiker’s number, she answered promptly.

  “Thank you for getting back to me. I was surprised to hear that you were in the field.”

  Raiker surveyed her with his familiar laser-blue gaze. “Jaid and I agreed that it was time for us to start resuming our normal routines. Or, what used to be normal. We’ve got a child predator case in Lexington. Another victim recently snatched. Clock is ticking.”

  Alexa winced slightly. She wondered if the case brought back memories of her employer’s last case for the Bureau when he’d been captured by the child killer he’d been tracking, and tortured before he’d overpowered his captor and killed him.

  And then she realized she already knew that answer. Adam Raiker saw the reminders of that case every time he looked in the mirror. The black eyepatch over the eye he’d lost, the scar that traced across his neck, the one running down one cheek, the others on the backs of his hands. He’d never shown a hint of self-consciousness about them. Survival was the ultimate trade-off.

  “What’s going on with your case?”

  Succinctly, Alexa updated him. Raiker had been intrigued from the first when contacted by the RCMP Commissioner. An UNSUB that had been on the loose for over a decade was a unique challenge.

  His brows drew together. “So he’s communicated with you three times.”

  “If you count his ‘gift’ today.”

  “Of course that counts. Under other circumstances, I’d say he’s thumbing his nose at the investigators. But that would be out of character for him. And I don’t get that impression from his first communication with you.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “He’s going to re
ach out again. Sooner, rather than later. This isn’t about an offender taunting the police—he wants to connect with you, Alexa, on a personal level. Your shared interest might have been enough to whet his fixation. Your looks likely didn’t hurt.” Typical Raiker, his words held no flattery, but were stated as blunt fact. “This is a unique chance to discover more about him. But don’t underestimate the danger this puts you in. You’ve learned that he first reaches out to his victims by blackmailing them for some perceived sin. He won’t stray far from his long practice.”

  “He’s going to dig into my background. Look for something he can use.” She’d known it already. But having her certainty put into words had a greasy layer of nausea pooling in her stomach.

  Raiker nodded. “You may represent a deviation in his signature, but he’s going to abide by that ritual as much as possible. He’ll be compelled to.”

  “He’s not going to find any blackmail material in my past.” Heartrending loss, perhaps. But not major crimes.

  Her employer was shaking his head. “You’re applying logic to a person who isn’t rational. Whatever he discovers, his perception won’t be grounded in reality. You’re a square peg, yes. But he’s going to try to work you into the familiar round hole he has for his victims. Continue developing that possible religious link. If it proves tenable, it’s a tool you can use to engage or manipulate him.”

  They chatted a few more minutes about her piece for the press conference tomorrow, with Raiker suggesting some tweaks before they disconnected.

  It was barely nine, but none of them had slept much the night before. She got up, readied for bed and then switched off the light. Slipped between the covers.

  Exhaustion had unconsciousness approaching quickly. When the alert sounded on her phone, Alexa was already dozing. It was a struggle at first to break free of the sticky fingers of sleep. So tempting to ignore the intrusion. In the next moment, her brain clicked on and she sat straight up, grabbing the cell from the bedside table.

  After Anis Tera had contacted her yesterday, she’d set that email addy to send an alert for each new email. This could be a professional contact. She already knew it wouldn’t be. When she pressed the inbox button, the same set of letters and numbers appeared from the message sender. The subject header read, TRURO.

  She called Ethan’s cell. He answered on the first ring. “There’s another message.” She said nothing more. She knew she didn’t have to. Alexa quickly pulled on yoga pants and a cami and then opened the door. Ethan walked in, his expression grim. He was still fully dressed, minus the suit jacket and tie.

  “What’s it say?”

  “I haven’t opened it yet.” She went to the desk and used the tablet to bring up the email addy the offender was using. “When I ordered a new laptop, I got a tablet, too. I don’t want any chance for him to access my files.” She didn’t think that was possible by just opening the email yesterday. But that didn’t mean future communications would be as secure.

  “Good idea.” He came over to watch over her shoulder. “I think you’d have to click on a link for that to happen, but no use taking risks.”

  She clicked on the email. It took long seconds for the message to open. This time there was no text. Only a photo. Alexa hissed in a breath, the muscles in her belly twisting.

  “Son of a bitch.” Ethan’s low tone was lethal.

  The photo was of her, taken this afternoon. She was standing, half-turned. The image was a little blurry, as if it had caught her in mid-motion. Alexa knew the exact moment it’d been taken. After she’d risen from her mother’s grave and readied to leave.

  “Where was this snapped?”

  “This afternoon at Heavenly Angels Cemetery. My mother’s buried there.”

  “He followed you?”

  The sense of violation was overwhelming. The one moment she’d had with her mother in twenty years had been tainted by the presence of a madman. “We know he’s familiar with our vehicle, since he had the boy repeat the license number of the car he was to make the delivery to.” She tried to recall any vehicle in the vicinity of the cemetery. Failed. “Maybe we’re wrong about the van.” Because there was no way they would have missed that.

  “The forensic ident guys casted the tread prints and measured them. The vehicle that left them has a longer wheelbase than a car or a pickup.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Well, he didn’t follow us to the east side of town on foot. He has a second vehicle.”

  Ethan gave a slow nod. “That would explain a lot. Why chance having the van in the same vicinity as the body he carried it in when there are police swarming the area?”

  “He feels invisible,” she murmured, her mind racing. “Because he’s been overlooked all his life. And he’s been operating with impunity for years. Maybe long enough to convince himself that he can’t be caught.” Perhaps there was a religious aspect to that, too, if the UNSUB thought his was holy work, he may believe it’d been blessed by the God he claimed to be serving.

  “I won’t take that as a dig,” Ethan said wryly and her gaze flew to his again. Was aware for the first time of how close their faces were.

  “I’m trying to think like he does.”

  “Then think about what this is.” He tapped the screen, before reaching for his phone to take close-up pictures of the image. Alexa stared at the spot he’d indicated. She’d barely noticed it before, so caught up with the fact that the offender had been close enough to witness her vulnerability in the cemetery.

  An image had been photoshopped onto her right shoulder. Insects, of course. She slipped out of her chair and went to her briefcase. Hurried back with a magnifying glass. Examining the enlarged image, she said wonderingly, “Termites.”

  Ethan looked up from his phone. “What would the significance of that be? Do you think he’s identifying the second insect sample in Lawler’s mouth?”

  Alexa shook her head, trying to shove aside her burgeoning trepidation. “This will be more personal.” She opened her laptop and brought up the database to double check for accuracy. She wasn’t mistaken. But the symbolism still escaped her.

  “The email has vanished.” Ethan straightened. “I’m going to go print this.” Alexa barely noticed him leave. She was already immersed in looking up facts about the insects, rapidly reading article after article. When he returned, she looked up.

  “The image is of a male and female sample of Kalotermes flavicollis. They’re a species of Dampwood termites.”

  Ethan crossed to drop one of the images he’d printed off onto the desk. “So what’s he telling you? That you and he can destroy buildings and construct your own world together?”

  “I’m not exactly certain,” she admitted. “The fact that he included both male and female is probably significant. They may represent him and me.” And she’d never admit how squeamish that made her feel. “Termites are social creatures with a definite caste system. There’s the king and queen, the workers, alates and soldiers. The king and queen mate for life and are responsible for reproduction. They populate the entire colony.” She frowned. “They’re also the only ones in the colony that develop eyes, although they don’t have a strong visual sense.” She wasn’t sure if that fact was important. It was critical not to read too much into the possible symbolism.

  “Christ, Alexa.” Ethan stared at her with something between horror and distaste in his expression. “You’ve got to see how frightening his focus on you is. And, from a non-bug enthusiast, damn creepy.”

  That drew a smile from her. “Well, it’s certainly unique.”

  “Unique, hell.” The concern in his voice was impossible to miss. “I think it’s further proof that encouraging this fixation on you is a mistake. To use it the way Gagnon urged you to do, to draw the guy out.”

  They’d come full circle. “I’m familiar with your feelings on the topic.”

  The fact that she said nothing else had him clenching his jaw. But he visibly reined in his temper. Tucked it away
. A quality he’d perfected in adulthood. “It’s a moot point,” he managed to say evenly. “The brass has spoken.” He looked down at the images he held. “How long were you at the cemetery?”

  “Not long. Twenty minutes maybe.”

  “Were you alone there?”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to recall. “I really don’t remember,” she said finally. “I didn’t notice any people or cars around when I was trying to find the grave, or when I was walking out again. And I would have, I’m sure of it.” She thought for another minute. “But it’s an old cemetery. Lots of vaults and oversized monuments.” And the possibility that the offender had lurked behind one of them, spying on her, had a new chill breaking out of her skin. “Roads flank the cemetery, with gates on either end. My guess is he followed us, passing by when Nyle let me off and then he returned on the other road. If he parked the vehicle and took the picture from over there, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  But she resented the intrusion. Fiercely.

  Ethan looked away. The images were still clutched in one hand. He shoved his free hand in his pocket. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  Surprisingly, her eyes filled. It’d been a long time since she’d shed tears over her mother. She’d lost her a little at a time from the moment Thomas Reisman entered their lives. But it’d been a long day, one steeped in emotion. “Thank you.”

  “How’d she die?”

  “Breast cancer, from what I heard. Untreated, of course.” She heard the bitterness in her tone. Was helpless to control it. “I’m sure her husband convinced her the power of prayer was greater than any medical treatment could be.”