The Last Victim (A Ryker Townsend Story)

by Jordan Dane

  Justine wanted me to open the baggage I’d been carrying all these years. She’d made it easy for me to talk to her, but I couldn’t tell her the whole truth.

  “My parents. I had a…vision. I could’ve saved them if I’d made different choices, but…” I shut my eyes, unsure I could finish. “…they died anyway. I can’t let that happen again. I mean, what good is it to have these terrible visions and be powerless to stop the slaughter? If that happened again and someone died because of what I did—or couldn’t figure out—it would kill me.”

  “Death is powerful. Maybe once someone is marked, no one can stop it, not even you with your incredible gift, Ryker.” She stroked my cheek. “How did Nate get targeted? You have any theories?”

  I didn’t talk about my cases, but Justine had broken down my barriers. I needed to talk as much as she wanted to listen.

  “This killer gets off on taking everything from his victims. That means he crossed Nate’s path and knew how he felt about his son.” I closed my eyes to connect to the killer. “He uses a knife to get in close and watch them die, knowing he’s taken everything that matters. With Nate, it would’ve been a future with his boy.”

  “Matson knew how Nate loved his son.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Maybe poaching on Nate’s property had been Matson’s way of riling him. Nate thought he knew Matson and would’ve wanted to protect his boy from him. His son made him vulnerable.”

  “You mean Nate might’ve forced a showdown without thinking…because he had something at stake?”

  “Yeah. He would’ve seen Matson as a threat to his son and the life he’d built.”

  “He wouldn’t have been wrong,” I said.

  Justine narrowed her eyes and stared at me.

  “What?” I shrugged.

  “Sounds like you see your job as being the voice of the dead, like it’s your calling,” she said. “You watch over them, but who watches over you?”

  When I gritted my teeth and didn’t answer, she sighed.

  “It took a lot of guts to tell me, but I’m getting you out in one piece. I know you want to protect me, but you’re the one who needs help now.” She kissed my cheek. “Thanks for the trust. Your secret is safe with me. I promise. We’re getting off this mountain, you and me.”

  I wanted to believe her. Her words were only promises she had no control over, but they made me feel better. She gave me hope, something I needed in a bad way. I leaned my head back as the growing pain of a headache burrowed its roots deeper in my skull.

  “Did you find Matson?” I asked.

  “I found a campsite that could’ve been his. It had the boot prints I’d tracked the other day.”

  “How do you know the prints were his?”

  “After I’d lost him, I took a harder look at the tracks he’d left behind. The heel of his right boot has a deep gouge that leaves a noticeable impression. It’s how I knew the campsite was his, but the fire pit was cold. He’s on the move.”

  She’d tracked him by following a gouge in his boot heel. Clever.

  “So he’s not staying anywhere long and not building a fire that can be seen from a distance. He’s hunting.”

  “Yeah, us,” I said.

  “Matson is a poacher. He hunts and knows how to stalk his prey. With us hold up in Nate’s cabin, we’re easy pickings. I searched around the cabin’s perimeter and found the same boot prints along the tree line. The tracks were fresh. He’s been out there, watching us. I swear, there are times I can feel him.”

  “Now who’s the psychic?”

  “Touché.”

  “No sign of my phone? He didn’t trash it?”

  “Not that I saw, but maybe that’s a good thing. Your team might have their beacon after all.”

  “Yeah, I guess, but we can’t count on that,” I said. “As soon as it gets dark, we gotta sneak out of here and hope he doesn’t see us. Maybe we’ll get a head start before he comes after us.”

  Justine stared at me and flexed her jaw tight.

  “What?” I shrugged. “You’ve convinced me we should stick together. That makes sense, and like you said, we’re easy targets here. If he’s stalking us and came close to the cabin, it’s only a matter of time for him to test us.”

  Justine wandered toward the window in silence. She kept her back to the wall and peered outside, careful not to show her face. After a strained moment she glanced at me. I wasn’t sure I liked her expression. She made me glad she was on my side.

  “This guy is crazier and meaner than I remembered. If he’s the one who killed Nate, both of us know what he’s capable of,” she said. “Now that I know he’s been coming close, I’ll stand watch and keep a rifle handy.”

  “I can help with that.”

  Justine cocked her head and stared at me.

  “You just admitted to me that you’re hallucinating. I’m not sure I can trust you with a gun. You almost shot me.”

  “Nothing personal.”

  Justine smirked.

  “Oh, good. I feel much better,” she said. “Okay, we’ll head out tonight, but we’re traveling light. I’ll consolidate our gear into one pack with only the essentials. And you’re getting sleep before we go. No arguments.”

  “None.”

  “We won’t stop once we get out of here.” With her gaze fixed on the trees beyond the clearing, she talked as if she were making a mental checklist. “No sleep. No fire. No real food. Take the time it took for us to get here and double it. Hell, triple it for your injury. I know the trail. That’ll help since we’ll travel in the dark.”

  “Sounds as if you’re trying to convince yourself this’ll work.”

  “Call it the lesser of two evils. After my recon of Matson and where he’s been, I’m not sure we have a choice.” She walked away from the window and went to her first-aid kit. “But you’ll do what I say. No questions. A pain med will help you sleep while I pack our gear. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

  I stared at the pills she had in her hand as she came toward me. I understood her point. I’d have to rely on her to get me through this now. She knew the trail. She knew Matson, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I already had trouble stemming the tide of my strange and worsening visions. Taking pain medication could make my imaginings worse, but she wasn’t giving me a choice.

  I had to rely on her.

  After I took the tablets from her hand, Justine gave me the canteen and I swallowed the meds. I settled into the pillow and she tossed a blanket over my chest and sat next to me.

  “Don’t fight it,” she whispered and ran her hands through my hair. “I’ve got you. Count on me and I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

  As the meds kicked in, I flashed back to nights when my mother sat next to me, comforting me after I had a hellish dream. I was adrift in the past and the present, with Justine bridging the gap.

  “I gotta find this guy. I have to.” I shut my eyes and let my mind go.

  “Maybe you already have found the one who killed Nate, Ryker,” she said. “But I’m not as worried about Matson, as I am for you. Right now, getting you off this mountain is my priority. You’re the only one who matters to me.”

  She sat with me until the drugs took a firm hold and the numbness spread through my body. The room did a slow spiral as I sank into darkness. I listened to the sounds of Justine at work.

  I prayed I wouldn’t dream.

  ***

  BAU headquarters

  Quantico, Virginia

  Hours later

  Hutch stared at the computer screen in stunned silence. He’d tested his theory on how the UNSUB could’ve identified and stalked his victims by using Nathan Applewhite as ground zero and he worked back using the killer’s timeline and what he knew of the other victims. He let his mind be open to the way a killer might think, the scary way Ryker did.

  He didn’t like how it felt.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Cam stood at the threshold to his offi
ce with her arms crossed. She had a smile on her face until he glanced back and didn’t answer her.

  “I’m serious. What’s up, Hutch?” She pulled up a chair and sat next to him.

  “I’ve got a pretty solid theory on how our UNSUB picks them out…and how he hunts them.” Hutch glared at his monitor. “I mean, I expected this to eventually happen. The way technology is advancing, it was bound to, but seeing it work is…frightening. Anyone with the right motivation can do this.”

  “You’re scaring me, love.” She put her hand on the back of his neck and stroked his hair. “Look at me.”

  Hutch took a deep breath and did as she asked. Whenever he looked into Cam’s eyes, it reminded him the world wasn’t completely filled with the sick fringe dwellers his team hunted.

  “Tell me what you found,” she said.

  It didn’t take him long to run Cam through the basics of what he’d discovered. She was intuitive and smart and connected to the way he thought, but when he was done, she fell silent. She slumped in her chair and stared at the last image he had on the screen. Her eyes were watering and she looked emotionally drained.

  He didn’t push her to say anything. He’d felt the same way. After a long moment, she fixed her gaze on him. The usual glint she had in her eyes was gone.

  “How can people create something like this and not realize how the predators of the world would abuse it?” Cam’s voice sounded fragile. “Don’t they know people can be messed up and…damaged?”

  Hutch heaved a sigh and said, “Broken people are dangerous, because they know how to survive.”

  Chapter Twelve

  BAU headquarters

  Quantico, Virginia

  Jitters from her caffeine overload weren’t helping as Lucinda sat with her team in a conference room outside her office. She was anxious to get started. They would pick up where they’d left off and explore Hutch’s idea on the UNSUB’s change in victimology. Cam and Hutch had set up a laptop presentation and had asked for Sinead to attend the briefing. After Lucinda noticed the grave expressions on the faces of her ERTs, she let them work in silence. Sinead caught her eye, but picked up on her cue and didn’t break the somber mood.

  “I tested the theory I had on how the UNSUB could target and hunt his victims, based on the idea Nathan Applewhite earned a special spot on the last Totem for a reason,” Hutch began. “I don’t know what that reason was, but I think I know how the others got tagged… literally.”

  Lucinda leaned onto the conference room table and narrowed her eyes at the visual presentation Cam had started. An on-screen capture of Nathan Applewhite’s social media page filled the screen in the darkened room.

  “Applewhite had a Facebook page that he didn’t use much. Brian Dunkirk and Michael Wesson had other social media sites, but when I couldn’t find common ground, I was stumped until I went about this a different way,” he said. “What if the reason we can’t find the way our UNSUB hunts his victims is that he’s doing it online and is using software that can be downloaded to any phone or used online? There’d be no trail unless someone is looking for it and his targets would appear random, but after I remembered an app that I’d read about, something clicked for me.”

  Another slide came up with the website for a software app Lucinda hadn’t seen before.

  “There’s a few versions of this around,” Hutch said. “They’re called Augmented Identity apps, but the one that’s most popular and reliable is called FaceTrax. It’s an app you can download onto any smart phone or on your computer.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of this.” Sinead nodded.

  “What does it do, Hutch?” Lucinda asked.

  “Say you’re in a bar and you see someone who interests you across the room.”

  “That would require you to have a life,” Lucinda said. “But yeah, go on.”

  Hutch shot her his quirky smile and went on.

  “All you have to do is point your smart phone camera, take a picture, and run their image through FaceTrax. If they’re posting anywhere online, this app will pull up their name and every social media link they have. Whatever they post is yours to data mine.”

  “God, you’re kidding me.” Lucinda slouched back in her chair and shook her head. “People post everything online these days.”

  “Yeah, it’s the perfect stalker tool. It’s fast and can be virtually anonymous,” he said. “So the common ground that links our victims could be this app.”

  “Anyone can do the software download on their computer at home, too?”

  “Yeah, they don’t even have to go to a bar. Having a life isn’t a prerequisite. That’s how I think an app like this worked with Applewhite and our UNSUB. TK already had photos of Applewhite from his Facebook page, but I think he had to know him, too. That kind of rage doesn’t just happen.”

  “How does the program work…exactly?” she asked.

  “The facial recognition software creates a 3-D image of a face and transmits it across a server where it’s matched against an identity maintained in a database. A cloud server conducts the actual facial recognition and sends back the name of the person as well as links where they do their social networking. From there, the person’s face and identity can be tagged and whatever they post online is fair game. To anyone with a criminal mind, this could lead to identity theft, fraud scams, hacked bank accounts—and yes, stalking.”

  “How do you know our UNSUB uses an app like this?”

  “I don’t, but it’s a strong theory because I downloaded the app and ran it on Applewhite, Dunkirk, and Wesson,” Hutch said. Cam brought up a new slide and a linear grid appeared over the photos of the three dead men. “This is what the program would see. It takes out all the distractions of the features and breaks it down to the basic elements of facial characteristics, called recognition algorithms. As you can see, the face grid patterns are very similar.”

  “The UNSUB would’ve started with Applewhite as a template and searched for similar faces,” Cam said. “From there our killer would get a retrieval of guys who look like the original—an a la carte menu of choices, pre-screened by criteria our UNSUB looks for, such as age, address, whatever.”

  Sinead nodded and said, “The newer Androids, iPhones, and cameras with at least five-megapixels are compatible with this app. It’s pretty universal and accessible to your basic pervert.”

  “Don’t get too caught up in the smart phone angle. Our guy can use any computer he has access to and hunt online, privately. He wouldn’t have to own a smart phone or even act like a tech savvy guy. In fact it would be a good cover if he wasn’t,” Hutch added. “He could troll for victims whenever he scored online access, then go about living his life and executing his plan once he knows where they live. He could have a list to cherry pick from whenever he’s ready to hunt them, but basically our UNSUB could be anybody. He wouldn’t even have to own a computer, only have access to one when he needs fresh targets.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Sinead said. “Damn.”

  “If being hunted by a stranger isn’t scary enough, here’s something that will make your skin crawl,” Cam added. “You might think the U.S. Department of State maintains the largest collection of images in a facial recognition database, but it doesn’t even come close to the one-hundred eighty billion photos posted on social media sites, like Facebook, Google, ImageShack, PhotoBucket, Instagram, and Flickr.”

  Lucinda was stunned by the implication. She knew the internet had been a fertile ground for criminals and scam artists, but if serial killers could anonymously stalk potential victims online and in encrypted privacy, that meant no one would be safe. Even if a person didn’t post to social media, if their friends or family did, that meant those shared photos could make them a target without them even knowing it.

  Unbelievable.

  “We live in a world where any of our private information can be tracked through a random photo taken on the street or in a bar,” Lucinda said. “Our credit scores, sexual orientation,
religious affiliations, places of employment, our loved ones and friends, all of it can be traced through what we post ourselves. Online companies and automated data miners bundle the consumer data and reap the financial benefits without any objection from the vulnerable users who use their ‘free’ services.”

  “In a nutshell, yeah.” Hutch adjusted his glasses. “Scary world.”

  “This is good, but how can we use it to get ahead of our UNSUB?” Lucinda asked him.

  “We can run Applewhite’s photo image—our way—and look for potential victims who live in Seattle.”

  “You mean hunt victims the way our UNSUB would?”

  “Yeah, exactly. We can attempt to build a target list he could already have at the ready,” he said. “Once we get closer to identifying our UNSUB, factors like what kind of phone he has and his access to computers and use of online social media, can help narrow the field. We’re still a long way from identifying our killer, but when you consider our UNSUB is hunting anonymously online and we have a pretty good idea how he’s doing it, we can search for certain patterns in social media use and take a harder look at the people who followed our dead guys.”

  “That’s a lot of cross checking,” she said.

  “That’s where Sinead comes in. Cam and I could use her help. We can work from what we already have, through Applewhite, Dunkirk, and Wesson.”

  “I’ll be contacting the software companies who have this type of Augmented Identity app to see how cooperative they can be on sending us details of their downloads,” Cam said. “Even having proxy server locations can help. We can cross-reference the servers of visitors to the profiles of our victims to narrow our search.”

  “This is a big job, but I think you’re on to something,” Lucinda said. “Sinead, do what you can.”

  “Yeah, I’m on it. Whatever you and Cam need, Hutch,” Sinead said. “But if our UNSUB is hiding his online activity, this could turn into a search for Waldo. He could use dozens of proxy servers to mask his ID. Even your basic kid knows how to ping off one proxy server to get around blocked sites, but a more sophisticated user could use dozens of servers that he can vary. He could use encryption and even go through servers in foreign countries that would refuse to give up user IDs. This could be a big dead end, but I like the idea of stalking our UNSUB online. He may not expect us to find him that way. Payback is a bitch.”