The Last Victim (A Ryker Townsend Story)

by Jordan Dane

  It had been worth the discomfort.

  In person and from a distance, the FBI agent looked taller and more physically imposing. The way he studied every last detail of the Totem had rekindled memories for each body strapped on the tree. The cries of pain, the fear in their eyes when they knew how everything would end, hit a crescendo that led to the grinding of bone, the crack of a joint, and the meaty resistance of flesh against the saw.

  All of that came back with a flourish, thanks to the profiler. It was as if Ryker had relived the intimate seduction of death—a voyeur to every fleshy slice. The Totem Killer liked that. It was intoxicating. It was as empowering and blood churning as being watched while having sex.

  Ryker moved with a fluid grace like a shrewd predator. The hunter. Studying every move he made around the clearing had been fascinating, but something had gripped the FBI agent when he looked up at the whole one. The perfect one. He stared at the dead man for far too long for it to be nothing. When Golden Boy shifted his gaze into the mountains behind him, looking for something—someone—that made the Totem Killer smile.

  Yes, I’m here. You feel me, don’t you? That’s good. Real good.

  Ryker had seen something, perhaps an unintended thing or maybe a subtlety only the profiler observed with his skilled eye. Whatever it had been, stirred the Totem Killer’s blood like…

  Foreplay.

  Ryker Townsend had been intriguing—and unfortunately for him—unforgettable.

  ***

  Sea-Tac Airport

  Hours later

  Ryker Townsend

  On the ride to the airstrip with my team, I didn’t have much to say. My mind had become an inventory of things I wanted to tell them before I stayed behind and my need for quiet didn’t change after we’d arrived.

  Some criminalists resorted to a peculiar dark humor to get them through a crime scene. Anything remotely absurd about the body, or an unusual cause of death, pushed them over a familiar line they crossed with ease. The ability to laugh in the face of death kept them grounded in a world that made more sense with rules and reasonable order.

  But in the presence of bodies, I got quiet, which I’m sure pleased Crowley. I opened my mind and listened to what the bodies had to say. Victims planted their seeds in me to allow the dreams to take root. Even in body bags or on an autopsy table, I felt the phantom life force of the dead as if a part of their essence lingered for me.

  I needed the silence to connect with them.

  As my team loaded the bodies and the evidence onto the private jet, I thought about the eerie feeling that had touched me when I was alone at the crime scene, an inkling I couldn’t talk about with the others. That sensation—and the deeply personal link it had to unfinished business in my past—made it hard to separate the insights of the objective profiler from the instincts of a guy who had lived with strange prophetic dreams his whole life.

  Before I told my team what I’d decided, I called my unit chief first. Anne Reynolds answered on the second ring.

  “I need a personal day. Something has…come up,” I told her. “I know you thought I’d come back tonight, but…”

  I explained how I would stay in touch with the latest developments of the investigation through video conferencing. I’d done it before, but my unit chief pressed me for more. My smoke screen of requesting a personal day hadn’t stopped her from asking questions.

  “What’s up, Ryker? You don’t do personal days. Talk to me.”

  My other reason for staying overnight was too private to disclose in confidence, even to a boss I respected.

  “I’m asking for a little privacy. One night. I have…something to do here,” I explained. “I’ll fly back on my own. All costs on me.”

  My unit chief answered me with silence. It was a tactic of hers. Most people filled the gap in conversation, when it would’ve been in their best interest to keep their mouth shut. I had never fallen for her ploy, but the woman had a way of reading me, even over the phone.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me. I get that you have a personal life, Ryker. Take what time you need, but what aren’t you saying about that crime scene? I heard from the locals that the killer left a note with your name on it. That’s new.”

  “He could get my name from the media. There’s been plenty of coverage, but this crime scene felt…different. I can’t explain it yet. We got a whole body. That has to be significant and…”

  “And what?”

  “I felt a stronger connection to TK, like he was…watching.”

  “Killers do that. They watch. They pretend to be witnesses, to insinuate themselves into an investigation. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but this was different.” I sighed. “I’m asking for personal time. I’d like to stay over for a private matter, but it’s…more than that. Call it a gut instinct.”

  I had a feeling that if I got on the plane, the link I had with TK would be broken. I knew how crazy that sounded, but there it was. I couldn’t risk testing the theory by leaving.

  “You’re still holding back something from me, but I respect your privacy, Ryker. What’ll you need?”

  As I watched my team load the plane from inside the small terminal building on the private airstrip, I smiled. My boss had her own version of intuition.

  “I’ll have Crowley get me an ID on our last victim and everything we can get on him. I’ll take care of my personal business and figure out my next step from there. Staying behind could turn out to be a good thing.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I ended the call and walked onto the tarmac outside the hangar to tell my team I’d be staying overnight. Crowley turned and narrowed her eyes at me as if she could read my mind. After she crossed her arms, I shrugged. Her ability to communicate with me without words had been there from the start. The rest of my team needed a heads up on my change of plans, but not Lucinda Crowley. After I’d told my team the news I’d be staying in Seattle one more night for personal reasons, I gave them my thoughts on the crime scene.

  “I’m still seeing this guy as a commuter who operates outside his body dump sites, but he’s careful about picking spots where he has time and isolation to stage them,” I said. “He gave us a whole body. Let’s use his ego to our advantage.”

  The UNSUB had flawless execution and had gotten bolder. I didn’t like what that meant. He wasn’t going to stop. He was only getting…comfortable.

  “Remember, we’re dealing with three other crime scenes, not only this one. Crime scene one, he abducts them,” I told them. “Scene two, he takes them somewhere else where he has time to torture them and a quiet isolated place to do it. That’s where he’s probably killing and freezing them until he’s ready to stage their bodies. Scene three, is the truck he hauls them with. We found tire treads at this scene and the others.”

  “Why the remote location?” Crowley asked. “He stretched his circle into the Cascades. Why do you think he did that?”

  I had my theory on why, but my thoughts ventured dangerously close to the secret I’d held back from them, about my visions and my strong use of intuition. I needed time to think, but my team deserved an answer.

  “He wanted to watch us. In the open. Watch me,” I said. “It’s not my choice to be on his radar, but apparently I am now. With any luck, we can use it.”

  Cam and Hutch exchanged looks and didn’t say anything. Crowley had a different reaction. She narrowed her eyes and focused on me.

  “Is that why the message had your name on it?”

  “No. I think you had it right the first time. This guy has seen the media coverage. He’s messing with my head. More of his ego.”

  Lucinda was protective of her team. The UNSUB using my name riled her. I saw it in her eyes and had to defuse her by giving out assignments before she targeted me and dug deeper.

  “Crowley. Input your observations and upload your photos into the ViCAP and PROFILER databases. I’ll add my penny�
�s worth when I get back. In the mean time, you’re in charge. I’m only a phone call away if you need me.” I fixed my eyes on her. “Call me on anything…and for any reason. Understood?”

  “Yeah. Understood.”

  After Crowley nodded, I turned my attention to my ERTs.

  “Hutch and Cam, I want you two to focus on our victimology profile. Having a body to autopsy will give us more. We need to get a handle on how he targets them and where he finds them. Our UNSUB knows how to be invisible to his victims. He blends in without them noticing. They trust him. We’re missing the connection he makes with his victims.”

  The autopsy would be critical. I wanted the last victim to be his last kill, Wishful thinking, perhaps. I couldn’t afford to indulge in it. I had to be a realist and assume the worst case scenario. Feeling the pressure of stopping this guy from killing again kept me up nights, but it also lit a fire in me to put a face and name to our UNSUB.

  “One more thing.”

  I took a deep breath and clenched my jaw. I knew what I was about to tell them would add pressure on my team, but they had to know the stakes.

  “Our UNSUB has escalated his kills. I think he has his next victim in his sights or he could already be working on him. At least, we have to assume he’s got the next one.”

  My team looked stunned at first, but their shocked expressions were soon replaced with their usual fierce determination. Like me, they were hungry to find this guy and expose him.

  “We have to know everything we can on his last victim,” I said. “Nothing is too trivial. Follow your instincts. My gut is telling me that he’s got his next prize and there’s a missing persons report with a name we need to find. Assume the clock is ticking on someone’s son or brother. We’ll hit it hard when I see you tomorrow.”

  Taking any time off the case felt like bad timing, but I knew the autopsy would be done tomorrow and would take hours. My ME couldn’t finalize his report without lab results either. I had a window of time to take care of my brief personal business in Seattle, but I had a strong feeling that I was meant to stay behind—something about this crime scene I couldn’t explain to anyone.

  I wasn’t sure I understood it myself.

  Before I left my team, Crowley caught my eye and pulled me away from the others to a quiet spot where we could talk.

  “I got something you should see. It won’t take a second.”

  She took out her camera and showed me a digital photo she’d taken earlier at the crime scene. The subject of her picture surprised me. She’d taken a photo of me—capturing the instant I’d first spotted the dead body staring down at me.

  The haunted look in my eyes startled me. I flashed to the instant the corpse fixed on me and blinding images of rotting flesh and dead eyes hit me like a strobe light in a dark room.

  My scalp prickled.

  “What’s your point?” I asked.

  “I’m deleting the photo, but that won’t fix whatever you saw.” She inched closer and lowered her voice. “You’ve changed. Something’s eating at you and you’re not letting anyone in. Now you’re staying in Seattle. What’s the real reason?”

  I could’ve told her of my intention to start a collection of tacky gifts. An absurd refrigerator magnet of the Space Needle would certainly be a step in the right direction. But Crowley had always been smart and although she read me better than most, that didn’t give her a right to pry into my life—or pass judgment on my taste in refrigerator bling.

  After I turned my back on her without an explanation, I knew she wouldn’t settle for a parting shot of my deltoids. She wouldn’t give up that easy.

  “I saw the look in your eyes, Ryker. You were afraid of something. Spill it.”

  I should’ve kept walking, but I made the mistake of turning around.

  “Let it go, Crowley. Pushing won’t get you an answer.”

  Unfortunately for me, pushing was a Crowley specialty. It’s what made her good at her job, but now wasn’t the time for flattery. Lucinda Crowley didn’t need any encouragement.

  “You’re a bomb that hasn’t gone off, but the fuse is burning.” She crossed her arms and stood between me and the hangar.

  She’d been right about my burning fuse, but I held tight to my inner smart ass. Crowley was only worried about me.

  “Well, when I blow, I'll think of you. Promise.”

  “That’s not funny. Not even close.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be, but I keep my promises. The day I implode, you’ll be on my mind. Are we done?”

  She stared at me until I heard wheels cranking in her head and knew I wouldn’t like what came out.

  “You’re a…”

  “I’m a what?” I asked.

  “You’re a…a half-foot taller than a normal person.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m tall or a half-foot shy of normal?”

  “Can I get back to you?”

  Crowley was the only woman who ever made me want to roll my eyes. Even though I’d resisted, she’d worn me down. This time she got an eyebrow twitch. I wasn’t in the mood, but when I walked by her, she wasn’t done.

  “How do you know the things you do…about this UNSUB, Ryker? Your instincts are definitely not normal.”

  I didn’t slow down or turn. I was done enough for both of us.

  “Let it go, Lucinda.”

  I knew Crowley would eventually hit bulls-eye if I stayed. She didn’t understand that a secret was only a secret if no one else knew, but she had more than her share of tenacity and an unnerving knack for reading me. I didn’t say another word. I headed to the airport hangar with the laser roast of her eyes staring holes through my back.

  The fact I deserved the heat didn’t change things.

  Chapter Four

  Seattle - Evening

  Ryker Townsend

  After I rented a vehicle with navigation, I plugged in a Seattle address. I followed the GPS system’s audio cues over freeways until an exit and a series of side streets brought me closer to Lake Union.

  A winding street took me through a popular strip of trendy restaurants and bars along the waterfront and felt like driving through a post card of the good life. Colorful lights bled across the water in shimmers as the ghost of Mount Rainier hovered on the skyline, awash in the fading pastels of sunset. Homes were nestled into the rolling hillside that surrounded the small lake and white boat masts silhouetted the dying light with well lit houseboats dotting the water’s edge. I had a thing for this part of Seattle.

  It was a quiet low key oasis in the middle of urban sprawl—a place I could almost forget the dark side of what I did for a living.

  As GPS ticked down the distance between me and the address, I slowed my speed to a crawl until the woman with the exceedingly bossy voice told me I’d arrived. The location was not what I had expected. Vehicles were parked on the street in designated spots marked for residents. Beyond that was a locked cyclone gate that secured a wooden dock for moored houseboats. I’d have to know a code to get in or punch a button to an intercom that would announce I was waiting to be invited—an invitation I wasn’t sure I would get.

  I didn’t need the complication.

  “What now, genius?”

  I shut down the engine and turned off my headlights. Second thoughts closed in as I sat in the dark, but I’d come this far. I peered through deepening shadows to look for the address without much luck. Gripping the steering wheel too hard, I stared at the ribbons of light that stretched across the still lake and debated my next move.

  “Don’t think. Just do it.”

  I got out of the vehicle and took a deep breath. The cool night air was ripe with the aromas of grilled steak and seafood coming from the restaurants down the street. I would’ve listened to my growling stomach more if I wasn’t about to confront my past.

  The locked gate was an obstacle I wasn’t getting around, but a walkway along the lakefront would keep me close enough to see houseboat numbers. Seven boat slips d
own I found the one I’d come looking for. Lights were on inside. The boxy green and tan painted houseboat had round nautical windows with the drapes open. Toward the rear I saw a dark haired man cooking in the kitchen and heard a muffled song. It proved to be a challenge not to judge his taste in music.

  Air Supply…really?

  After I slipped into the darkness, my eyes wouldn’t settle as I searched for Sarah.

  When I didn’t see her inside, an urgent sense of guilt took hold of me. Did she live here anymore? Had she gotten a divorce? The fact that I didn’t know the answer to even basic questions about her life struck me as pathetic. She had made the decision to never see or talk to me again. Even though I’d respected her choice and kept my distance, I didn’t like not being a part of her life. Hated it, in fact.

  I’d never been to my sister Sarah’s home and never met the man she’d married a year after the funeral of our parents five years ago. I didn’t get a wedding invitation, even though Sarah had my mailing address at the University of Maryland. I had to hear about her news from family friends.

  The day I’d heard about her getting married put me in a spiral. One minute I had a family and my future prospects looked bright—the next, my parents had died and something dark in me had been triggered. I was alone and plagued by escalating nightmares I didn’t understand and I had no one to talk to about it. My mother was the only one who understood and accepted me. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss her.

  I honestly didn’t know what my unit chief had seen in me during my final year at UMD that she wanted to recruit, but the fact she wanted me—someone needed me—made the job offer an easier decision to make when I had nothing of my old life to leave behind.

  “Damn it, Sarah. Where are you?”

  My one and only search for my sister had been a cursory paper trail, without ‘eyes on’ photographs. I only wanted to know she was alive and well. I hadn’t asked for her to be stalked. I’d done a discreet background check through a private investigator and found that Sarah and Jake had settled in Seattle after becoming Mr. and Mrs. Jake Fuller—far away from me. She had gotten her real estate license with Jake financially supporting her efforts as a business developer and architect.