Winter's Storm

by Mary Stone

  None of the neighbors could recall witnessing an unfamiliar figure or vehicle, and there were no nearby security cameras to give them a lead in the investigation. Within two weeks, the case went cold, and the rising crime rates in Danville were blamed for the seemingly senseless slaughters.

  Though there were other officers who had been present at the mall that night, Grace seemed to be the only one who truly recalled the incident. She’d been a beat cop at the time, and she and her partner were among the first on the scene.

  In the days that followed the massacre, the only method Grace found to deal with the heartbreak was to visit with the victims and offer her condolences. She listened to stories about those who had died—everything from summertime pranks to baby showers to tropical honeymoons. Even though Grace hadn’t personally known anyone who had been hurt that night, she felt the pain of each victim she’d visited.

  Sandy and Oliver had been intensely private people, at least with regards to what they went through at the Riverside Mall. Other than hand the couple’s oldest child her card, Grace hadn’t interacted with the family at all. There were a few others who had kept to themselves, but for the most part, the survivors of the shooting were grateful for Grace’s outreach.

  Now, someone was targeting them, as if they hadn’t already been through enough.

  Doug’s voice jerked her from the reverie. “You’re right.”

  The words came with the same ease of two stones ground together. Maybe Grace should have been grateful that Doug had finally set aside his stubbornness, but her jaw was still clenched in exasperation.

  If he’d listened to her three months ago, Sandy and Oliver might still be alive.

  Coughing into one hand to clear his throat, Doug nodded at her unspoken reprimand. “You’re right. Three incidents aren’t a coincidence. The department isn’t going to like this, though.”

  Grace barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “No one likes a serial killer.”

  He combed a hand through his dark hair. “No, no one does. But the department’s been stretched thin for the past year or longer. We’re struggling to keep our heads above water with the way crime’s been in this city.”

  Grace stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, suddenly cold. “Well, Doug, considering the nature of these murders, I don’t think it really matters what the department thinks. This is Federal jurisdiction now.”

  Doug didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgewise before Dr. Gomez interjected. “Excuse me, Detectives.”

  In tandem, Grace and Doug turned their heads to the medical examiner. The doctor’s eyes were narrowed as she held the ultraviolet light over Sandy Ulbrich’s face.

  After they exchanged curious glances, Grace and Doug made their way to the exam table.

  With a gloved finger, Dr. Gomez gestured to the faint glow smeared to the side of Sandy’s eye. “Was there anything at the scene that indicated the crime might have been sexually motivated?”

  “No,” Doug said, peering closer. “Nothing so far. Why? What is that?”

  Dr. Gomez’s dark eyes flicked up to them. “I can’t be one-hundred-percent sure yet, but my best guess is that it’s saliva. I thought at first that it might have just been a mark from a tear, but it’s much wider than a tear streak would have been.”

  Doug looked disgusted. “Wait. You think the killer licked the side of her face?”

  Dr. Gomez’s expression turned grim as she nodded. “Both sides of her face, actually.”

  Taking in a sharp breath, Grace snapped her gaze back and forth between Doug and Dr. Gomez. “DNA. That means there might be DNA. Do you think you’d be able to do a DNA analysis, Dr. Gomez?”

  The medical examiner pursed her lips. “We will surely try.”

  Doug reached into his black suit jacket for his smartphone. “I’ve got a contact at the FBI field office in Richmond. Let me give him a call, and then we can get their forensics team to coordinate with ours.”

  Though part of Grace was reluctant to relinquish control over the investigation, she was tentatively relieved at the idea of turning such a treacherous case over to an entity with the manpower and funding to properly handle it.

  She could only hope that the process of transferring the case to the bureau would be quick.

  So far, the murders had been spaced out by several months, but Grace had a sinking feeling that the interval was subject to change at a moment’s notice.

  10

  As the glass and metal door swung open with a light creak, Aiden Parrish looked up from staring absentmindedly at his work laptop. With a quick glance to the computer’s clock, he nodded to Ryan O’Connelly.

  Aiden had been in the conference room for at least ten minutes, scrolling through the documented evidence that O’Connelly and Agent Ava Welford had collected regarding Kent Strickland and Tyler Haldane’s handwritten manifesto.

  Although Aiden considered himself fairly tech savvy, he could admit that his eyes had started to glaze over as he’d perused the lists of IP addresses and other digital identifiers. His hope had been to get a better understanding of the information that O’Connelly intended to present in their meeting, but all he’d managed to do was remind himself that online technology was far more complex than he realized.

  In the days before the online boom, Ryan O’Connelly had been a proficient thief and conman. Many of Ryan’s early exploits had to do with physically breaking into secure areas to steal pieces of priceless art or other valuable trinkets. But as online marketplaces took off, O’Connelly had adapted to the new environment. Gradually, he’d shifted his operation from physical theft to online schemes.

  A number of the agents in the FBI’s Cyber Crimes Division had advanced degrees in computer engineering and programming, but O’Connelly was self-taught.

  In Aiden’s opinion, there was something to be said for the former conman’s “on the job” experience. After O’Connelly had cut a deal with the US Attorney in order to avoid jail time, he’d become a valuable informant for the bureau.

  With O’Connelly’s practical knowledge and Ava Welford’s vast understanding of modern technology, the two made a formidable team.

  But no matter how well their skills complimented one another, the investigation into Tyler and Kent’s accomplice had been fruitless so far.

  As O’Connelly set his laptop on the circular table, he pulled out a black office chair to sit. “How’s your night going so far, SSA Parrish?”

  With a slight shrug, Aiden closed his laptop. “Uneventful. Yours?”

  It was O’Connelly’s turn to shrug. “Uneventful too. Agent Welford was off today so she could go to her sister’s birthday party, so I mostly just went over everything again.”

  Their meeting was a run of the mill update that Aiden had scheduled for twice per week, so he didn’t expect any groundbreaking developments. At this point in the investigation, however, almost any update would be groundbreaking.

  Aiden lifted an eyebrow. “Have you found anything new?”

  As O’Connelly opened the matte silver laptop, he shook his head. “Not really. But I’ve got a new idea that Agent Welford wanted me to bring up.”

  An idea was about all Aiden could honestly hope for at this point. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

  After a slight nod, the younger man tapped a few keys. “It’s just a little something I thought of while I was going through the case again. You know how I’ve been posting in some of these dark web forums pretending to be another extremist over the past couple months, right?”

  The pseudo undercover work had been Ava Welford’s idea, and they’d all been hopeful at first. But like every other potential breakthrough in the investigation, the plan had deteriorated in short order.

  Other than a handful of cringe-worthy responses to O’Connelly’s posts, the effort had yielded nothing.

  Aiden nodded. “Right. Have you gotten responses that could be useful?”

  O’Connelly tapped at the keyb
oard. “No. Believe me, if I had, I would’ve led with that.”

  The start of a smile made its way to Aiden’s face. “That’s fair. What’s this idea, then? Are you thinking of going after those neo-Nazi forums again?”

  O’Connelly shrugged. “It’s the same concept, I suppose. I’m thinking of expanding the search radius. That’s a term that cops use, right?”

  Though Aiden might have rolled his eyes if anyone else had made the comment, O’Connelly’s perpetually chipper demeanor had grown on him over the past few months. In a line of work that so often dealt with the darkest parts of humanity, an occasional glimpse of happiness was a welcome reminder of why they did the work they did.

  Rather than offer up a sarcastic comment, Aiden chuckled. “It is a cop term, yes. How exactly are you planning to expand the search radius in this case?”

  O’Connelly turned thoughtful, the lines on his forehead deepening as he clearly considered his explanation. “Well, you know that the dark web is home to all sorts of nastiness, right? There are extremists all over the internet, but only the really serious ones make it to the dark web. We haven’t seen the Haldane and Strickland manifesto surface on the regular web, so I think it stands to reason that the fella who posted it in the first place is pretty familiar with the dark web. There’s a reason they posted it there instead of on the normal web.”

  Scooting forward in his chair, Aiden propped both elbows on the table. “So, in this case, ‘expanding the search radius’ would mean you start sinking deeper into the belly of the dark web?”

  O’Connelly’s smile widened. “Exactly. There are digital markers associated with every online post, and I’m thinking maybe we can find a match for this fella somewhere else. Maybe the lad who posted the manifesto is a hacker, or maybe he’s someone who’s been active somewhere else on the dark web before.”

  Widening the net was a tactic that law enforcement employed when all viable leads had been exhausted, but O’Connelly’s combined determination and enthusiasm made the idea seem like it was a new lead in and of itself. Then again, digital searches were vastly different from physical searches.

  After a brief moment of quiet, Aiden nodded. “What we’ve been doing so far hasn’t worked, so I think you’re right. Like that old saying goes, maybe we’ve been looking for horses when we should have been looking for zebras.”

  O’Connelly chuckled quietly. “That’s exactly what Agent Welford said when we were talking about it yesterday.”

  With a slight smile, Aiden folded his hands. “It’s the same type of logic we use in the BAU. In a lot of cases, serial killers and other murderers are associated with crimes that seem unrelated at first. Things like animal abuse and domestic violence. When we keep hitting dead ends, expanding the search criteria is a good way to refresh the list of suspects.”

  O’Connelly nodded his agreement. “That’s true. I’m willing to bet the same is true for hackers.”

  “How about Nathan Arkwell’s little circle of friends? Has anything popped up with them?”

  The question had become more standard procedure than anything. None of Arkwell’s friends or colleagues had made a peep in the last few months.

  As O’Connelly scratched the side of his face, he shook his head. “No. They’ve been quiet ever since Cameron Arkwell was charged. Not even a whiff of insider trading. We’re keeping an eye on them, though.”

  “Then that’s that, unless you have anything else you want to run by me. Otherwise, I think your and Agent Welford’s plan is a good one. Hopefully, it’ll finally turn up something we can use to find this person.”

  Pushing to his feet, O’Connelly stuck out his hand. “Hopefully. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up. Have a good night.”

  Aiden shook the ex-con’s hand. “You do the same.”

  After the door swung closed and the latch clicked into place, Aiden opened his laptop. The update from Ryan hadn’t given much new information about the case, but the new approach was worth documenting.

  As Aiden pulled up the file, he groaned when he felt a pronounced buzz against his ribs. With a glance to the clock, he reached to grab the device from an interior pocket.

  He didn’t stop to puzzle over the reason for the call from a Danville PD detective before he swiped the answer key. “SSA Parrish.”

  “Evening, Agent Parrish.” The caller’s voice was tinged with a folksy southern drawl, but the twang was slightly different than Noah Dalton’s Texan accent. “This is Detective Leavens of the Danville Police Department.”

  A hint of recognition flickered to life in Aiden’s mind.

  Aiden, Winter, Bree, and Noah had first been introduced to Detective Leavens on the night that Douglas Kilroy was shot and killed. Though the majority of the Danville Police Department had been occupied with the shooting at the Riverside Mall, Detective Leavens and his partner at the time had been tasked with documenting the death of an infamous serial killer—The Preacher.

  Like Aiden himself, Detective Leavens had worked on The Preacher case. Leavens had become involved back when Kilroy left a handful of victims around the Danville area.

  Whether Aiden’s sudden clenched jaw was due to memories of The Preacher’s case or the grave undertone in the detective’s voice, he wasn’t sure.

  “Detective Leavens,” Aiden said. “What can I do for you?”

  The detective cleared his throat. “Well, Agent Parrish. I think my partner and I are going to need your help. We’ve got five people dead, and it’s starting to look like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”

  11

  The buzz of anticipation in the air of the briefing room ran through Winter like an electric current. Over the past couple months, life around the field office had been relatively quiet for Winter and her coworkers.

  That wasn’t to say the work they’d conducted during the so-called downtime had been unimportant—trial preparation, routine training, and paperwork were all essential parts of the FBI’s overall operation. Plus, there was never a shortage of cases to work on, but the majority didn’t set her heart to pounding like others.

  Like this one.

  When the team was about to be introduced to a new, exciting case, the atmosphere in the building hovered between foreboding and electrifying.

  Winter set her mocha on the polished tabletop before she brushed off the front of her blazer. With a cursory glance around the room, she took her seat beside Noah and crossed her legs.

  Bobby Weyrick and Miguel Vasquez sat behind them, and across the row, Bree and Sun had taken up residence at their own table. Sun Ming had a reputation for her take no prisoners attitude and her general standoffishness, but Bree had a knack for getting along with just about everyone. As far as Winter was concerned, if Bree didn’t like someone, that meant they were a piece of work.

  Sun’s glossy black hair had grown out of the angled bob she’d sported for the first year Winter had worked at the FBI office. Today, she’d pinned the strands atop her head in a messy, albeit fashionable bun. With her smart blazer and four-inch heels, Sun could have passed as a runway model or a presidential candidate.

  When Winter had first been partnered with Agent Ming, the woman might as well have been carved from marble. After all, her demeanor back then was about as welcoming as a slab of stone.

  In the last few months, however, the frigid edge had begun to thaw. Sun still exuded a vibe that told onlookers not to mess with her, but she now came across less like a Terminator and more like a determined, professional woman.

  At the front of the room, Max Osbourne sat near the end of a whiteboard, and Aiden Parrish stood behind a podium at the SAC’s side.

  Once upon a time, Winter had wondered if she’d been falling for the tall, handsome man who headed up the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Between his neatly styled caramel brown hair, pale blue eyes, and his impeccable style, there was no denying that Aiden was an attractive man. However, if Winter had to guess, she’d say that she had merely mixed up
physical attraction with the fondness she felt for him as a friend and mentor.

  A friend she hoped she still had. The past few months had been trying for Winter and Aiden’s friendship.

  Ever since Aiden had pointedly advised Winter and Noah of his belief that Winter’s baby brother was a violent psychopath, she had been dead set on proving Aiden’s fallibility.

  She had dug through memories of cases he’d worked during her time at the FBI, even during the time she’d known him in high school and college, but she’d come away with nothing. As far as his record with the bureau was concerned, Aiden Parrish was always right.

  It was maddening. From a personal level, at least.

  Behavioral profiling wasn’t an exact science, but whenever Aiden Parrish comprised a profile of a suspect, his analysis was usually spot-on.

  The only person Winter knew who was better at understanding motivation, emotion, and mental health was Autumn Trent. To Winter’s chagrin, Autumn only ever seemed to confirm Aiden’s suspicions.

  Like Noah had told Winter when he’d caught her moping around her apartment the week before last, friends had disagreements. Just like romantic couples, friends had to work through rough patches too. In time, Noah said he was sure she and Aiden would find a way to reconcile their differences in opinion.

  Winter wasn’t so sure.

  As Max’s voice cut through the quiet chatter, Winter jerked herself out of the contemplation.

  “Good morning, everyone. I know this is short notice, and I appreciate you all making it here.” Max paused for an appreciative glance around the room. “This is time sensitive. The Danville Police Department has reached out to the bureau for assistance on a handful of cases they think are connected.”

  When he gestured to Aiden Parrish, Winter sat up straighter. Aiden was never one to smile much, but now, he looked downright grim.

  Aiden nodded and cleared his throat. “A contact of mine reached out to me last night. Agents Stafford, Dalton, and Black, you might remember him from the Kilroy case.”