Seeking Evil (Looking Into The Mind Of A Killer Series)

by Mary Eason

  Seeking Evil

  By

  Mary Eason

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Mary Eason

  Copyright © 2012 by Mary Eason

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Praise for the author

  Mary Eason skillfully crafts a tale that sends the characters on a wild goose chase. Everyone's a suspect. No one can really be trusted. This is the type of book you read during the day or you might jump at every little sound others. Gritty and emotional. A wild ride.

  LAS Romance Reviews

  A fast-pace and deep romantic suspense story sure to grab your attention and make you wish it would go on and on! Extremely good and a recommended read.

  Marilyn Rondeau for www.ck2skwipsandkritiques.com

  A Note from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoy Anna and John’s story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Theirs is a very special love story. One that I hope will touch your heart.

  And at the end of their story, I’ve included sample chapters of two of my current releases for your enjoyment.

  Out Of The Night – Book One of The Night Gives Up Its Secrets is a young adult paranormal romance that brings together two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a curse that has no end. Viktor and Jessie must struggle to overcome the Curse Of The Lamia if they ever want to have a chance at love again.

  And Every Single Beat is an edge-of-your-seat thriller. Carrie Sierra woke up from two-week coma after a heart transplant and discovered she had someone else's memories. CIA Agent Kate Willows' life and death, including the memories of the man Kate loved, Agent Booth Raines, are hauntingly vivid. Only Kate's killer remains a mystery.

  Prologue

  The Monster Leaves The Abyss

  He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  He’d promised. Sworn the last time would be the last time. He’d lied. The throbbing pain cruising down the right side of her body, the dark bruises under her eye, served as vivid proof of the extent of those lies. They were staring her in the face just as clearly as the choices she faced.

  To stay would all but guarantee death. To leave would mean he’d follow through on his promise to track her down no matter where she went. Even to the ends of the earth. The third choice was unimaginable.

  Which meant there was only one real choice after all.

  * * * * *

  Looking out through the sheets of pouring rain as the coffin bearing her ex-husband’s body was lowered slowly into the weeping earth Anna Sorenson believed this had to be the blackest moment of her life. Soggy red dirt fell in clumps, first framing then covering the single red rose she’d placed on Aaron’s casket.

  She glanced beyond the minister who watched her with an expression that did not welcome her tears or encourage sympathy, away from John Delaney who’d been at her side since Aaron’s death, past the handful of mourners to where the gravediggers smoked and waited patiently to finish their task.

  If only she could go back in time. Back before she’d made that very first special connection.

  A connection to a killer.

  Chapter One

  Sixteen months later…

  “Oh, hell no.” The second he saw the body, Agent John Delaney knew his day was about to take a twisted turn toward past mistakes.

  The brutality the female victim had endured was evident from her wounds and the expression of terror written on her face not even death could erase. The end hadn’t come quickly but it had been excruciating. Her nude body had been tossed aside like a piece of trash next to the small pond located about fifty-some-odd-yards from the walking path at Rock Creek Park.

  He glanced around the area trying to get a sense of the crime scene. “Anyone see anything?” he asked his rookie partner who’d been canvassing the area.

  The latest victim had turned up just six days after Daphnia Scott’s body was found in the same park.

  Both vics had similar wounds as the original case. Same cause of death. The only difference? This was one year later and the man responsible for those murders sat in a federal prison awaiting execution.

  “Nope. No witnesses. The person who called 9-1-1 jogs this path every morning around the same time. There aren’t any surveillance cameras set up at this end of the park. No doubt the perp knew this. A patrol car reported driving by around two a.m. Obviously the body was dropped something after that.”

  Rick crooked a thumb back over his shoulder. “The ME estimates the time of death around thirty-six to forty-eight hours earlier. She wasn’t killed here. Sorry, John.” Agent Rick Garner confirmed the rebirth of the nightmare with a terse shake of his head.

  “Dammit.” John squatted next to the body, his partner and Medical Examiner Maria Woo leaning over his shoulder. “Doc, any chance that these wounds weren’t caused by the same type of knife?” God he hoped she’d tell him yes.

  He didn’t have to look at Maria to know she’d be rolling her eyes and probably thinking the same thing he was thinking. This was no copycat.

  John got to his feet. “We able to ID her yet?” He directed that question to his partner.

  “No. No ID was found on the body. Just the note,” Rick added unnecessarily. “Which is a pretty strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

  John didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “Where the hell’s he been for a year and why would he let Peterson steal his thunder. I mean, these guys are supposed to be media hogs, aren’t they?” Rick asked.

  John couldn’t forget the night that would be forever branded in his subconscious. The night his work became personal. And a serial killer made good on his promise to make the morning headlines.

  George Peterson had done all of that and more.

  At least that’s what they’d all hoped. Until now…

  He watched the ME’s assistant zip the body bag closed over the sightless eyes of their unidentified victim. John waited until the woman’s body was in the wagon.

  “How soon can you get the prelims to me, Doc?”

  “Should have something by this afternoon. I’ll give you a call.” Maria snapped off her gloves off and tossed them in her bag then headed for her Mercedes parked on the street.

  “What do you want to do?” Rick asked.

  “Do?” His gaze fell on the flattened and bloodied imprint left in the grass. God he needed to be sure. Before this thing exploded in the press again.

  “What’s our next move?” Rick clarified, arching an eyebrow at John’s indecision.

  The only thing he could do. “I need to talk to Peterson.” John turned from the crime scene. Normally the temperature of these late summer days could reach a boiling point by midday. Today the atmosphere in D.C. had turned cold and foreboding.

  As if even the weather might be predicting the future.

  Rick scrambled up the slight embankment after John.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” John jabbed the unlock button on the Bureau-issued Crown Victoria. He needed to do this alone. “Going with you, of course.”

  John slanted the younger man a dark look. Most days, Rick’
s cheerful demeanor was a bonus. Today was not one of them.

  “Rick—”

  “I know, I know. You’re ordering me to stand down. You’re the boss. You can do that.” Rick stood his ground, his hand on the Vic’s passenger door.

  In spite of his foul mood, John had to smile. “Yeah. So why aren’t you doing it.”

  “Because you need me, partner. And I have no intention of letting you go back down that black hole alone.”

  * * * * *

  He’d thought he’d seen the last of this place. Prayed the last time would be the last. He’d come here on a far different day. He’d watched the gates of the Federal Correctional Institute in Petersburg, Virginia, slam shut behind George Peterson, and he’d walked away from the prison with only a hollow feeling of justice served.

  “John? You ready?” He turned to his partner. The sun had just begun to fade on the horizon. It was obvious Rick had been asking that question for a while. John didn’t acknowledge the other unasked questions written in his partner’s solemn expression. Instead, he yanked the door open with more than necessary force.

  “Yeah?” The duty officer, an overweight fifty-something, whose girth barely allowed him to squeeze the buttons on his shirt into place, spared them an intimidating look before he returned to watching reruns of Judge Judy on TV.

  “Agent Delaney, Agent Garner. FBI.” The flash of their Bureau-issued IDs managed to pry the officer’s attention from Judge Judy’s current case. It only took a moment for the officer to recognize John. Once the Rock Creek Park murders hit the presses, John’s face and story had been plastered all over the national news and even a few celebrity rags. He could only imagine the headlines this latest development would bring.

  The man passed a couple of fat fingers over his receding hairline. “Yes sir. What can I do for you?” Under different circumstances, the officer’s about-face behavior would have been amusing, but John had lost his sense of humor when the note arrived and the final victim’s body screamed the truth.

  “We need to speak with George Peterson. Have him brought up for interview.”

  Officer Frank Barrera glanced at his watch. “He’ll be sleeping right now—”

  “I don’t care if he’s taking a shit, get him up here.”

  Officer Barrera’s opinion of John’s rebuke was clear, but he did as he was told and grabbed the phone, turned away and passed his anger on to the hump on the other end. “Get Peterson brought up front. Now.” He slammed the receiver down with more force than necessary then went back to watching his program.

  Barrera’s phone shrilled and he yanked the receiver to his ear. “Yeah? Okay.” Barrera took his time conveying the message. A deliberate attempt at getting back at John. “He’s ready. I’ll need you to sign in and hand over your weapons.”

  John smug expression barely passed for a smile. Barrera appeared pleased when he deposited his Glock into the tray along with Rick’s. Barrera snatched the weapons up, removed a bulging key ring from his overworked belt, and unlocked the weapons cabinet.

  Ordering the FBI around probably came as close to being a real cop as the man had gotten in his career.

  “This way.” Barrera buzzed the barred door open and headed down the long corridor without waiting to see if the two of them would follow.

  Barrera stopped in front of the first door and peered into the window. With a satisfied wag of his head, he took the key ring off again and unlocked the door then turned to John. “He’s cuffed to the table so he shouldn’t give you any problems. I’ll have to lock up. When you’re ready, knock and Officer Schultz here will let you out.” He motioned to the young officer who leaned his lanky frame against the opposite wall. Officer Schultz gave them a couple of fingers salute.

  They stepped inside the bleak cubicle that reeked of unwashed flesh and squashed hope. They waited until the door had been relocked and Barrera’s mass was in motion before facing the man handcuffed to the table.

  His time in federal prison hadn’t done Peterson any favors. He appeared at least ten years older than his twenty-eight years and he wore his physical scars like medals. Peterson had barely been incarcerated more than a week before someone tried to win a name for themselves by killing the Rock Creek serial killer. They’d buried a shank an inch beneath Peterson’s right eye, taking away its sight. There were other scars as well. Peterson certainly hadn’t been a choirboy, but it was the emotional demons warring with the man’s sanity that were the most disturbing.

  The left corner of Peterson’s mouth inched upwards in what could only be described as a maniacal leer. It confirmed all of John’s fears. “Figured it out, did ya?” Peterson made a noise like a growl.

  In an instant, John’s world crumbled around him. “Dammit.” This man might be responsible for killing a federal agent, and deserving of his cell in federal prison, but he wasn’t the Rock Creek killer. And he had nothing to do with the two recent murders that eerily mirrored the RC killer's MO.

  It took Rick another half a click to catch up, his sharp gaze beating a path from John’s to the man seated at the table. “Why the hell did you confess to a crime you didn’t commit?”

  Peterson tossed Rick a disinterested look. “New partner, Delaney?” A deliberate dig that John had no intention of responding to.

  “Answer the question, Peterson. Why’d you confess to Cheryl Larsen’s murder? Janice Daniels and Belinda Cardwell’s? You didn’t do any of them.”

  Peterson’s answer was a bored lift of his shoulders. He was playing with them. John’s patience stretched a little closer to the breaking point.

  He smacked the table hard with his hand, garnering a startled jump from inmate 6752335. “Answer. The. Damn. Question.”

  “Why do you think? I was going to prison anyway, thanks to your partner. What’d I have to lose? I figured I might as well make a name for myself. Get some of the glory if I was gonna spend the time for doing your partner.”

  The introduction of Aaron into the conversation threatened to snap the last bit of control John was clinging to. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your partner, the illustrious Aaron Sorenson.”

  “Leave him out of this, you son-of-a-bitch. You were seen at Cheryl Larsen’s apartment complex the night she disappeared. You were stalking her. She’d reported you to the police. You were the last person to see her alive—”

  “Except for the real killer, you mean.” Peterson confirmed without blinking an eye. “I’d say he was the last one to see that bitch alive, wouldn’t you?”

  * * * * *

  “This place is about as close to haven as it gets. You think Ed would miss me if I decided to stay here, oh, say, forever?” Her sister Bev glanced out at the churning silver waters of the Gulf of Mexico as the sun slipped further in the sky.

  Pensacola Beach was about as far removed from the D.C. hell Anna Sorenson remembered as a nightmare was from reality.

  In the year that had past since Aaron's death, it hadn't been far enough to forget the memories of that night. That day life as Anna knew it stopped. Another chapter came to an abrupt end. Two weeks later, the final part of her once-promising world collapsed around her.

  “Are you okay?” her sister asked. There was something in Bev’s tone. Had been all day. Worry. Fear. Some premonition.

  Anna struggled to keep her composure. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don't know.” Bev tried to keep her tone nonchalant but didn’t quite pull it off.

  “Nothing's wrong. I just needed a vacation from Ed.” Whenever Bev resorted to lying about her husband, Anna knew her sister was worried.

  They'd spent a glorious day wandering around the gift shops along the beach, skipping lunch in order to indulge themselves at Sandy Beaches. SB was an expensive restaurant made famous for its fresh Gulf Coast seafood caught daily by the local fishermen.

  “Now this is delicious.” Bev took a bite of homemade Key Lime pie and closed her eyes, savoring the moment.
Anna had to smile. Having Bev with her today was like having a favorite warm blanket wrapped around her on a cold, rainy day. Letting her go wouldn’t be easy. Anna had begun to dread the moment already.

  Hiding that regret from Bev was impossible. “It’s been a great day.”

  Bev put down her fork and reached for Anna's hand, squeezing it. “I miss having you close, Anna. I worry.”

  Anna patted Bev's hand and tried to come up with some reassurances. “I know you do, but I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” It only it was true. Anna hadn't been able to tell her big sister about the months of hell she'd endured, or the change in her marital status before a killer had taken Aaron's life.

  “Feel up to a walk along the beach before we turn in?” Bev’s question shook Anna from her musings. Tonight there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The moon hung low above the water. There were dozens of people milling around.

  And Anna was afraid. Would there ever come a time when she wouldn't be fearful?

  “Sure. Why don’t we pick up Gemma first? She’ll never forgive us if we walk the beach without her.”

  Gemma was the little Pug-nosed dog who'd been Anna's best friend since before Aaron's death. Anna and Gemma were still finding their place in this post-Aaron world.

  “Sure. Gemma’s a doll. I’d like to kidnap her along with you and bring both of you home with me.”

  Gemma’s enthusiasm was easy to catch. For a time, Anna and Bev were happy to laugh as Gemma entertained them with her antics. Charging the tide as it rushed out then retreating to the safety of their legs when it came crashing back against the sandy shoreline, threatening to soak her pristine coat.

  Anna searched for something to keep from discussing her fears. “How’s Ed’s work? Is he still planning on retiring at the end of next year?”

  “Um huh.” Bev had grown unusually quiet.

  “I’ll just check the mail. I won't be a moment.”

  Bev nodded and took Gemma up the walk to the front porch while Anna walked to mailbox close by, exactly twenty-six steps from the house, all the while checking her surroundings. A habit from her past she couldn’t shake. She gathered the mail, not sparing a second to glance through it, and then she hurried toward Bev, her pulse reaching its usual frantic pace.