“Keep going, I’m listening,” Matthew encouraged, a speculative light entering his blue eyes.
“During my first encounter with Bernice Walz, the team was tipped off by her college professor who was disturbed by her increasingly dangerous belief structure. That professor was Robert Garvin.”
“The father of the first victim,” Matthew surmised. Kara rewarded him with a nod.
“That year was an election year and one particular ambitious senator was looking for reelection. Senator Peter Nobles. Nobles built his platform on tougher sentences for criminal offenders.”
“He used the Smithsonian case to further his political gains,” Matthew said.
“Right. Of course, it made perfect sense to use that case to his advantage. Bernice was made Public Enemy No. 1 and put away—supposedly for life—in a mental institution. He appealed to the tenderhearted voters out there when he said that considering she was mentally unstable, she was unfit for state prison.”
“Bet he’s wishing he hadn’t gone that route now,” Matthew muttered darkly, and Kara didn’t disagree.
“Yeah…so, then we come to Hannah Linney…her mother was the district attorney at the time who worked with Nobles to put Bernice away. Even though she wasn’t fit to stand trial, the D.A.’s office was hot for a conviction due to the high-profile nature of the case.”
“And what’s your connection?” Matthew asked.
Kara compressed her mouth to a fine line as she recalled that long-ago case from her past. “I was the agent who helped take her down in the beginning and I was the agent who became the FBI’s mouthpiece for this case. In a way…it’s full-circle and damn near perfect revenge for that psycho bitch who is bent on repaying the key players who helped thwart her reason for living.”
She took a moment to get it together and her shoulders sagged briefly but she was driven by a need to end this and couldn’t afford to let anything—fear, grief, rage—throw her off course.
“Let’s get back to the motel. I need to let the team know what’s happened and we need to dig a lot deeper into Bernie Poff’s past and figure out where Bernice might be hiding out. I have a feeling it’s probably right under our noses.”
Chapter 21
At the motel, the mood was somber. Kara felt their heartache as deeply as she felt her own.
“Has anyone called Tana’s sister?” Zane asked, clearing his throat. “She’s the only family Tana had left.”
“Yes,” Kara said, blinking back the wash of tears that were too close to the surface. “She’s on her way up here right now.”
“How’s Dillon?” D’Marcus asked.
Kara sighed, trying not to let the image of Dillon’s bloodied body stay too long in her mind. “They took him to the Southern Humboldt Medical Center where he’s listed in critical condition. It’s touch and go right now. He was pretty banged up. All we can do is pray he gets better. In the meantime, let’s catch this bitch before she finishes out her plan of revenge.”
Zane and D’Marcus took a long moment to process their grief so they could temporarily put it aside to do what was necessary. Kara saw the resolve in their stares as they dried their eyes. “What next?”
“I think I’ve figured out the connections,” Kara said, then made short work of explaining the twisted path that Bernice Walz had made since being released early from her incarceration.
“So much for our justice system,” Zane said with a low snort. “We do the work and then the politicians let them out again. Sonofabitch,” he muttered, and D’Marcus echoed his sentiment.
“Be that as it may, she’s out there and our problem again. I say it’s about time we take out the trash,” Kara said solemnly.
“Amen, sister,” D’Marcus said, his gaze narrowing. “I’m on it,” he declared, swiveling in his chair, fingers flying over the keyboard as he accessed every database known to man searching for everything and anything they could find on Bernie Poff.
It wasn’t long before D’Marcus got a hit.
“I think the problem may have started with dear old ma,” D’Marcus stated derisively. “I’ve got an old social services file on her regarding Bernice. Seems mental instability runs in the family. Apparently, Nelda was part of some radical militia group in the ’60s but she managed to get away before the hammer came down. The key players went to prison, except one.”
“Who was the one who got away?” Matthew asked, not quite sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Your friend, Bernie.”
“Damn,” Matthew swore, hardly able to believe it, but it sure explained why Bernie had seemed to hate law enforcement. “But he was never a problem,” Matthew said, having a hard time grasping that straw. but it was hard to hold on to that with the evidence staring him in the face. “Guess it goes to show you never truly know a person.”
“To be fair, you can’t really say you knew him,” Kara reminded him softly. “He saved your life and you had a soft spot for him because of it but other than that, what did you know of him? He didn’t seem the sort to keep an open book on his life.”
“You got me there,” Matthew acknowledged, but he felt a loss at the newfound information. “I liked him,” he admitted. “I appreciated his simple philosophies, those that he chose to share with me, that is.”
Kara’s expression was understanding but she was ready to move forward. “What else you got, D’Marcus?” she asked anxiously.
“I think that explains why she didn’t list Bernie as the father. She probably wanted to distance herself and her daughter from the stigma Bernie might carry if anyone found out about his involvement with the militant gang.”
“It doesn’t explain why she went nuts,” Zane said wryly.
Kara chewed her bottom lip. “You’re right. We’ve still got a missing piece. Keep looking, D’Marcus,” she directed, then turned to Matthew. “Aside from the main house, were there any other homes or cottages up on Bernie’s property?” she asked.
Matthew thought about it, then answered. “I think he had an old one-room shack that he used when he stayed in the mines too late. Why? What are you thinking?”
Kara shook her head. “I don’t know…but I think we have to go back. There’s something about that place that gives me the creeps, but I can’t get it out of my head that we’ve missed something.”
“If you feel that way, I say we should listen to your instincts. You haven’t been wrong yet,” Matthew said, willing to put his faith in her when it counted the most. “Let’s go take another look.”
Kara grabbed her jacket and left instructions with Zane and D’Marcus to call if anything else was found or if they received word about Dillon, then she and Matthew hit the road.
They pulled up to the old house where Bernie had spent his adult life and Kara couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was walking over their graves. Her skin crawled and there was a sense of foreboding that rode her spine. She didn’t know if it was because of that hallucination she last saw here or the fact that Bernie had died on this mountain.
“You okay?” Matthew asked, noting her rigid posture as they trudged up the trail.
“Not really,” she answered in spite of herself. She risked a crooked smile and Matthew returned it. Somehow that easy connection between them made her feel better. That was something to be marveled at because there was nothing about the situation that could be described as anything less than stressful. “Matthew…I’ve missed you in my life,” she admitted.
He stopped. They held each other’s gaze for just a heartbeat but it could have been an eternity for what it conveyed. He canted his head at her. “So what are we going to do about that?” he asked, his smile somewhat pained.
She offered a heavy and disconsolate sigh. “Not a clue. Certainly not something I could figure out this second but I felt the need to tell you that. There’s been so much between us, both in the past and the present, that I felt I owed it to you to be honest.”
His gaze was grave as he said, “I appreci
ate that.”
“But I don’t know what will happen when this is all over,” she said, swallowing hard to get the words out. “I can’t say I can be the woman you need me to be or even the woman I would like to be. I’m not the woman you remember and I doubt I ever could be again.”
There was something so incredibly sad in his gaze that it took nearly everything in her not to look away. It was too powerful and stark, as if he were drinking in her appearance and tasting her soul with one lingering sweep of those azure eyes. If wishes were like raindrops she’d take each and every one to wish that life had dealt different hands to them all. But that wasn’t possible and what was done could not be undone. Tana was gone. Dillon was hanging on to his life with his fingertips and her—their—daughter may already be gone. Tears stung her eyes and Matthew knew it was time to push on because she hated to let people see her cry.
It was a considerable hike to where Bernie’s miner’s shack was located. It was near enough to the mine and Kara was surprised she hadn’t seen it the last time they ventured this far. But then, she’d nearly been ready to jump out of her skin that other time so she cut herself some slack. As they approached, an odd sound came to them from the distance.
She cocked her head to the side. “Do I hear…birds?”
Matthew nodded. “Bernie kept canaries,” he answered. “Canaries?”
“The miners used to take canaries down into the coal mines with them because canaries are especially sensitive to methane and carbon monoxide. So if the bird stopped singing and keeled over, the miners knew they’d better clear out of there or else they’d be as dead as the bird.”
Kara raised a dubious brow. “I thought Bernie was mining for long-lost treasure, not coal.”
Matthew shrugged. “He was. But he was also digging around in a mountainside where there was very little ventilation. He wasn’t going to take the chance.”
“Or maybe he just liked birds and used the old miner lore as an excuse to keep the birds around,” she teased, eliciting a soft chuckle from Matthew.
“You might be right. But we should probably take the birds back down with us. It’s cruel to leave them out here with Bernie gone.”
Kara agreed but as they neared the shack, suddenly Kara felt cold all over, as if someone had just plunged her entire body into a vat of liquid nitrogen. She froze and fear tickled her senses. She drew her gun, prompting Matthew to do the same. He looked at her inquiringly but held his position.
She didn’t know how to tell him but she knew something bad was about to happen. She gestured silently toward the shack and they flanked the small building.
Kara inched toward a window opening and slowly peered inside. The shabby contents included a faded and dingy sofa with stuffing spilling from its ruptured sides, and a rickety end table with gun magazines littered across its top. A narrow hallway to the one bedroom met her gaze. She caught movement and ducked down but not before catching a glimpse of something that stopped her heart.
The still and bound form of her daughter being tugged down the hall as if she were deadweight made Kara want to run screaming into the shack to pump bullets into her tormentor’s body. Her heart cried out and her hands shook as fear gripped her at the sight of Briana’s motionless and silent frame. Why wasn’t she struggling? Fighting? Trying to get free? Oh, baby, please don’t be dead. I’m here, baby girl! Swallowing hard and blinking back tears of panic, she compartmentalized her feelings as if that little girl lying on the grubby floor was not her heart and soul but a stranger’s child that she was trying to save. The thought narrowed her focus to a pinprick. She motioned to Matthew as he crept along the side that she was going in and she needed cover.
He jerked his head at her, frowning at her decision, but she was moving before he could persuade her to go a different route.
Kara slid into the house, keeping her back to the wall and her eyes trained for any hint of movement. She tried not to look at Briana while the danger was still high. First take out the threat; then check the hostage. Doing it the other way around got people killed.
Kara pressed her back against the wall and listened for any sound. She could hear someone muttering in the bathroom. The door opened with an angry squeal of resisting hinges and then slammed shut. The footsteps stopped and sweat popped along Kara’s forehead as her grip tightened on her gun. The footsteps resumed, then Kara saw Bernice Walz clear the hallway. Kara cracked her in the face with her elbow, hard enough to send a spray of blood from a busted nose to paint the wall behind her. Kara whirled on the woman, ready to take her down at gunpoint, but Bernice had rallied faster than Kara expected and surprised her with a vicious kick to the gut. As she doubled over and gasped for breath, Bernice went to send Kara’s teeth into the back of her throat with the heel of her boot, but Kara saw it coming and managed to roll to the side, avoiding the hit. She scrambled to her feet, her stomach roiling with the need to puke, but she refused her body’s need. Instead, she smiled at the woman who was regarding her with a nasty grin tainted red by the bloody snot running from her nose.
“Took you long enough. Didn’t I leave enough bread crumbs for you to find?” Bernice taunted. Kara fought to keep from riddling her with bullets. Bernice wiped her nose with the back of her hand and flung the viscous mass to the floor. “I expected better of Special Agent Kara Thistle,” she mocked.
“Bernice Walz, you have the right to remain silent,” Kara said from between gritted teeth, the desire to end this right now so strong it took every ounce of training to stay cool.
“Aren’t you wondering why? I bet it’s eating you up inside.” Bernice moved slowly and Kara leveled the gun at her head. She held her hands up in surrender. “So touchy.”
“Matthew…is Briana okay?” she called out, never once letting her gaze falter from Bernice. “Matthew?” her voice rang shrilly as her fear ate at her.
“I highly doubt that,” Bernice said sadly. “The dose of tranquilizer I gave her could’ve killed a horse. You can imagine how quickly it would work on a small, defenseless girl.” Bernice tsked and shook her head in sympathy. “So close yet…well, you know the saying.”
Kara’s heart contracted and tears blinded her. It was the slip in concentration Bernice needed and she sprang like a mountain cat on its quarry, deadly and accurate. Bernice knocked Kara to the ground and the gun went spinning out of reach. With Bernice’s weight on her she couldn’t scramble to a better position. Nails raked down her face as Bernice tried to squeeze her eyeballs out. Bernice matched her in size and weight, but Kara wasn’t above playing dirty to gain an advantage. Breaking free, she grabbed a breast and twisted so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if she tore flesh. The woman howled and tried jerking away. Kara used this opportunity to roll them both until Kara was on top. She wasted little time in clocking the bitch twice before Bernice bucked and Kara went crashing to the floor. This time they both scrambled for the gun. Kara knew if she didn’t get her hands on it first, they all were going to die. An extra spurt of adrenaline pumped through her muscles and she managed to get her fingers curled around cold metal just in time to put the muzzle of her Glock right smack against Bernice’s sweaty forehead. “That’s right, bitch. Back the hell off before I blow your face to kingdom come,” Kara growled, getting to her feet slowly. Bernice wavered, indecision in her gaze, then the confidence returned.
“Such a good little agent,” she said, catching her breath. “I heard there was an accident. How many did my little present take out?”
“Why’d you do it?” Kara asked, ignoring Bernice’s taunting question. “Do you even have a reason or are you just bat-shit crazy for the hell of it? Like mother like daughter, perhaps?”
Bernice’s gaze narrowed. “Watch it, government girl. There’s more to this story and if you don’t play nice, I won’t tell.”
Kara smirked. “You’re wrong. The story ends here. You go to prison where you should’ve ended up years ago instead of the loony bin, though I’m sure those years were
well spent.”
Something flashed in Bernice’s eyes as her nostrils flared with hatred. Kara shook her head in disgust. “You’re pathetic and your inane attachment to that creepy nursery rhyme isn’t clever or metaphoric as you tried to make us believe. You’re just crazy. It’s all documented in your file from St. Elizabeth’s. Psychotic break sound familiar? Just your run-of-the-mill nut job.”
“Kara!” Matthew’s frightened voice chilled her to the bone. “Briana’s in bad shape! Her breathing is shallow and her heartbeat is weak!”
Bernice’s stare shifted to where Matthew and Briana were and her lips twisted in a macabre smile. “Uh-oh. Methinks time ran out for little Briana Thistle. The ambulance will never get here in time,” she commented almost conversationally. Then Bernice’s expression went from happy to venomous and she nearly spat the words when she said, “How does it feel to lose something precious?”
Not expecting the sudden attack, Kara swallowed her revulsion and tightened her grip on the gun. “You’re a monster. A sick freak who they should’ve kept locked away in a dark hole for the rest of your miserable life,” Kara whispered, refusing to let her tears blind her this time. “They’re just babies. What made you so awful?” she asked, though she hadn’t expected an answer. When Bernice gave one, Kara found herself listening in stunned silence.
“I was pregnant,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with loathing so hot Kara nearly stumbled back for fear of getting burned. “I lost my baby in that mental hospital that you helped put me in and I swore every single person who had a hand in taking my baby would pay with their own.”
“There’s nothing in your file that states you were pregnant,” Kara said stiffly. “You’re lying.”
“Of course it’s not in my file,” Bernice scoffed. “That weak dick politician Nobles didn’t want any bad press to taint his election chances. There was an unfortunate accident and my baby was thrown out with the trash. I was beaten nearly to death by one of the orderlies but Nobles made sure that report never saw the light of day. All it says in my file is that I was prone to violent outbursts and appropriate measures were taken. You can read between the lines and guess what kind of treatment I was subjected to.”
To Catch a Killer Page 16
