The Last Victim (A Ryker Townsend Story)

by Jordan Dane

  She didn’t feel ready to be in charge, but she didn’t have a choice.

  “If our UNSUB thinks the online way he hunts these guys is safe for him, he could be getting sloppy. Extend the missing person search to Alaska, but focus on Stevens as our priority. We have to assume this guy is alive.”

  “Yeah. I agree. One more thing,” he said. “About Ryker, I gotta ask. Do you think he went to this island on a hunch, for another reason than checking out Applewhite’s place? I mean, he even warned us the UNSUB had a new victim. How does he do that?” Hutch said what she’d been thinking. “I’ve seen Ryker follow his gut to very peculiar places that panned out, but this is the first time he’s taken off on his own. Even if the guy needed his overdue share of R&R, why not kick back in Seattle or find a beach? Instead he zeroes in on an obscure island. How does he know this stuff? The guy is a Zen master.”

  “Nothing would surprise me about our fearless leader, Hutch.” She sighed. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Lucinda didn’t hesitate. After she ended the call with Hutch, she went back to her bedroom and looked for extra clothing, suitable for Alaska, to pack in the ready bag she kept at work. She had a strong hunch on how her day would play out. She should have listened to the warning voice in her head long before now. The way she felt about Ryker, it wasn’t always easy to think clearly and keep the personal separate from the professional.

  What if he’d been in trouble since the day his SAT phone lost service? Terrible scenarios ran through her head as she packed. In every one she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d let him down. Even if he hadn’t confided in her, she should have pressed him for more.

  The last thing she wanted was to be forced into a decision between her searching for Ryker or Benjamin Stevens and prayed it wouldn’t come to that. If it took searching in two places at one time, she could enlist the help of local law enforcement or other FBI agents in the region, but she’d been trained to put the innocent victim first. Ryker would understand if she chose to take the lead on the hunt for Stevens, but that wouldn’t make her decision any easier if he’d been in trouble from the start.

  She could already be too late.

  With a gym bag of extra clothes on her shoulder, she grabbed her lunch and headed out the front door. She had decisions to make, but in the back of her mind, a clock had started to tick down—a clock she should have heard days ago.

  “Damn it, Ryker. Why did you go alone?”

  ***

  Prince of Wales Island, Alaska

  Dawn

  Golden Boy had grown weak. His steps had shortened. He looked exhausted and was mumbling to no one as he hobbled down the mountain. The blood he left on the trail made it easy to follow him in the pale light of morning. No need for night vision binoculars anymore.

  “Come to me, lover. Give it up. You’re mine now. You just don’t know it yet.”

  Soon it would be time to end Golden Boy’s misery. The guy was seriously messed up. Last night he’d fired his gun. That had been a surprise, but what he did next had been fun to watch. He’d dropped to his knees and ran his hands over the ground, looking for something only he saw. It didn’t matter what it was.

  He’d lost it. He had another hallucination and that’s all that counted.

  “No more help for you. The trooper is off duty.”

  A bear trap had set everything in motion. The stars had aligned and everything had fallen into place as if it’d been meant to be. Golden Boy turned into a rat in a maze. He’d followed the path down the mountain. He’d taken a few wrong turns that made it harder on him, but he’d see Point Baker soon. He traversed a ridge that would show him the way, if he knew what to look for.

  The sooner he wore himself out, the better. He’d be too weak to put up a fight. If he shut his eyes and rested, he’d pass out. It would be simple to disarm him—and even easier to take him like the others.

  To stalk him until he collapsed was only the teaser of what would come.

  “Can’t wait to get you on my table. I’ve saved my best work for you.”

  Townsend was used to being in charge and in control, but that ended the minute he set foot on the island. He’d come to track down leads in his hunt for a killer—and gotten much more. Too bad nobody else would know how close he’d come.

  “You’ll get what you came for, Golden Boy. My face will be the last one you’ll see.”

  ***

  Prince of Wales Island, Alaska

  Ryker Townsend

  With the river gorge behind me now, I didn’t have the rushing water to guide me. I’d followed its sound and had gotten down the mountain, but I’d lost the only landmark I’d been sure of. I had nothing to focus on. Nothing I remembered.

  I took one step at a time and was bone weary and barely able to hold my head up. My tunnel vision had returned and I’d lost more blood. The weaker I got, the more I relied on my makeshift crutch. The skin on my palm was raw from holding onto the rough bark, and under my arm where the padding hit me, it felt bruised and swollen.

  The darkness had turned to steel gray and the morning chill left my fingers and feet numb. I thought of home—and Crowley—and my sister Sarah. Keep moving. One step at a time. My clothes were damp with sweat from the fever. I’d been traveling across a ridge with a downward slope. Gravity kept me moving, but I had expected to see signs of Point Baker by now.

  Out of breath, I stopped and shrugged out of my pack. It felt good to have the weight off my back and the crutch out from under my arm, but when I bent over to pull out the canteen, a rush of dizziness hit me hard. I collapsed to my knees and cried out with the pain that shot through my bad leg.

  “Oh, God.”

  I crawled toward a large tree beside the worn path on all fours and dragged my pack with me. Don’t stop. Not now. My body wouldn’t listen to my head. I rested against the tree and stared at my messed up ankle. The bandage had soaked through and I’d left a blood trail any hunter could find.

  We’re gonna catch this guy. I promise you.

  In my head I heard the words I’d told Justine at the start of our trip up the mountain and almost lost it. I laughed at my arrogance. When I shut my eyes for a second, I heard the hurt in her voice.

  We both know you can’t promise that.

  She’d been right to doubt me.

  “One of us knew.”

  I fumbled through the pack and retrieved what little I had left for first aid. This would be the last time I could change my dressing. I tossed the bloody rags away and put fresh bandages on. My ankle had swollen to twice its size. With my back against the tree, I popped pills in my mouth and sucked water from the canteen to swallow them.

  I squinted into the gray morning sky and struggled to remember the way to Point Baker. I looked to where I should’ve seen Calder Mountain, the landmark Justine had showed me, but clouds covered it. Nothing looked familiar, not even in the daylight. I shut his eyes to steady my heart and catch my breath.

  Get up. You can’t stay here.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d said those words aloud. With eyes closed, I listened to the birds flitting through the trees and the sound of the breeze stirring the leaves. Rest. I only needed to rest. After I’d stopped moving, the damp chill of the morning cut through my clothes. I felt numb, except for the burning in my ankle. When I gave in to my exhaustion, I let my chin drop to my chest and everything faded to nothing.

  Even the birds stopped.

  Chapter Sixteen

  BAU headquarters

  Quantico, Virginia

  Lucinda had her team assemble in her office minutes after she arrived at BAU headquarters. She’d brought a dozen breakfast sandwiches and coffee and set them on her desk. Devin Hutchison was the first to show, with Cam Devore and Sinead Royce arriving minutes later. They came prepared to work and ate as they reported their missing person search results on the new victimology in light of Hutch’s theory that the UNSUB used the FaceTrax app to hunt his targets online.

  Lucinda star
ed at the DMV photo in the file Cam had created on Benjamin Stevens. The guy bore a striking resemblance to Applewhite, Dunkirk, and Wesson. He had dark good looks and kind eyes that made her want to know him. On his Facebook page he had photos of an active life. The guy was tall, muscular, and physically fit like the other victims.

  After learning Stevens was the primary caregiver to his mother who’d been stricken with MS, Lucinda felt the impact of his abduction. A mother’s worst fear is to outlive her child, but Mrs. Elizabeth Stevens depended on her son for her everyday needs.

  “Once we found the obscure link to the Prince of Wales Island and a fishing charter employer for Benjamin Stevens, Sinead dug into his Facebook page,” Hutch said. “She cross referenced anyone who followed his page over the past year. Tell her what you found, Sinead?”

  “Ben is an outgoing guy. He chats up strangers who post to his wall and he keeps in touch with friends he made when he worked for Bayview Fishing Charters in Klawock. I checked out anyone who followed his page from last summer until now, and looked into their IP addresses. I had to make a call and rule them out if they looked legit, but one IP bounced me through a dozen sites before I hit pay dirt on its origin. The name on the Facebook page looked as if it was for a freelance guide service—Thrill-Seeker. Everything about this business sounds generic. Even the hunting and fishing pictures on the page are tagged from other charters. No original images and no names to track, but the multiple IPs looked suspicious so I chased it.”

  “Any luck?” Lucinda asked. “I know you said someone with tech savvy skills could send you on a circle jerk, in search of Waldo.”

  “Whoever went through so much trouble to hide their ID didn’t do it on a whim. They had mad skills when it came to online obstacles, but I have my ways of getting around them. I found a physical address we can check out.”

  “That’s great. Is it a residence? Do you have a name?” she asked.

  “No, but the IP address is a public library that’s close to the fishing charter place. If they have video surveillance in the library or on Bayview Boulevard where the fishing charter is located, we might get eyes on whoever set up the page ID. The library also keeps record of who uses their internet service, but I’d have to narrow down the timeframe to isolate a user. I can cross check the Facebook login activity for Thrill-Seeker to do that.”

  “It can’t be a coincidence that the IP is located close to the fishing charter. It’s definitely worth checking out.”

  “We have more,” Hutch said. “Cam?”

  “I talked to the detective who’s been looking into the Stevens missing person’s case. Detective Frank Edwards is sending me everything he has on the investigation,” Cam told her. “He said he put a GPS trace on the guy’s cell phone right after he was reported missing. He tracked his phone to a cell tower in Alaska and gave me coordinates in Klawock.”

  “Maybe the guy needed a break from his mother’s care.” Lucinda played the devil’s advocate. “You said he still keeps up with his friends in Alaska.”

  “He was headed home with dinner for his mom on her birthday when he went missing. Who does that? Plus from everything I’ve seen on this guy, he wouldn’t leave his mom in the lurch, not without making sure she had someone to take care of her.”

  Cam had explained that Stevens had taken the summer job in Alaska last year to earn extra money for college. He’d taken a break from his mother’s care only after her sister had agreed to come for a long visit from Edmond, Oklahoma. Any cop investigating a missing person claim might assume Ben Stevens had taken off, looking for a good time in Alaska again, but on paper Cam thought the guy looked too responsible to leave home on a whim, especially without telling an ailing mother who relied on him.

  “Did Detective Edwards send out anyone local to search for Stevens in Klawock?”

  Cam glanced at Hutch and took a deep breath before she answered.

  “Yeah, they did. It’s a small town, like Mayberry small. They never found Stevens or an itinerary for him traveling to the state,” Cam explained. “They lost the GPS signal for his cell. Whoever abducted Stevens made sure no one could track his phone. Sound familiar? Applewhite didn’t have a known itinerary to Seattle and Sinead said Ryker’s phone went offline like Stevens. The coincidences are piling on.”

  Lucinda felt as if she’d been cold cocked. Her worst fears over Ryker were happening. In her moment of harsh realization, she pictured the faces of the three dead men—Applewhite, Dunkirk, and Wesson—and remembered feeling as if she were missing something vital about the three men.

  Hearing the news about Steven’s missing cell made her realize why she’d been bothered by the faces of the dead men.

  “Devin, do a FaceTrax comparison between Applewhite and Ryker.”

  “What?” Hutch fixed his gaze on her. “You think the personal note from our UNSUB to Ryker made him a target?”

  “I’m not sure what to think,” she said. “Ryker may have been a target before he got the note. Sending him a personal message was probably more to mess with his head. I could be wrong, but humor me and let me know what you get.”

  Lucinda slumped back in her chair and stared out her window. She couldn’t look her team in the eyes. She didn’t need Hutch to confirm what she already sensed—that Ryker had similarities to Nathan Applewhite and would fit the victim profile. She hadn’t seen it before because Applewhite didn’t dress or groom the way Ryker did. Take Applewhite from Alaska and he’d clean up nicely in a suit and tie. If Ryker lived in a remote log cabin, she could easily picture him adapting and she liked imagining him that way, but how she saw him had blinded her.

  She hadn’t noticed the similarities before because she knew Ryker. She saw him in many different ways. His face would never be an algorithm to her, but if Applewhite’s looks made him the target of a killer, maybe the same thing had happened to Ryker. The media coverage on the case would’ve put Ryker online. He didn’t need a social media page to make him vulnerable.

  “I’ll call Unit Chief Reynolds to update her,” she said. “She’ll want to know about Ryker…and the latest we’ve got on our UNSUB.”

  “Ryker has a sister. Does anyone know how to reach her…in case?” Cam asked.

  Lucinda sighed. Ryker hadn’t kept the fact that he had a sister a secret from anyone on his team, but when pressed he didn’t talk about her much. All she knew was that he hadn’t spoken to his sister Sarah in years, but her contact information would be in Ryker’s personnel records under his next of kin notifications. In case.

  “Until we know more, there’s not much I can tell her, but I’ll notify her if it becomes necessary.” She prayed it wouldn’t.

  “Tell me we’re going after Ryker and Benjamin Stevens,” Hutch said. “We’ve got an IP address to check out in Alaska—something connected to Ben Stevens—plus we’ve got the last coordinates for Ryker’s SAT phone in the mountains outside Point Baker. We could check out Applewhite’s cabin, see if he’s there.”

  Lucinda had spent time last night plotting Ryker’s last known coordinates against satellite maps and the possible location of the victim’s cabin. The FBI had use of a private charter jet, but once they got to Ketchikan, a different kind of aircraft would make more sense. There were miles between Klawock and Point Baker on the island, but a private helicopter would allow them to move quickly, get into the mountains, and land anywhere, if they needed to.

  “That’s the plan. Pending approval from Reynolds, I’ll want you and Cam with me, Hutch. Make a quick trip home and pack for Alaska, both of you. You’ll need more than what’s in your ready bag. I’ll text you with the departure time.”

  She had a feeling there was a connection between Ryker being AWOL and Benjamin Stevens going missing—a bad feeling.

  “Sinead, reserve the jet with a flight plan to Ketchikan, Alaska,” she said. “From there, we’ll charter a helicopter to search the island. Check out our options and let me know.”

  “Will do,” Sinead said.
>
  After her team left, Lucinda thought of another way to get in touch with Ryker. She didn’t have much hope that she’d get results, given his remote location, but before she called Unit Chief Reynolds she had nothing to lose in trying.

  She placed a call to the Alaska State Troopers. After her third transfer, she finally connected with someone who knew Trooper Justine Peterson.

  “Do you have any way to make contact with your trooper? She’s helping one of ours, Supervisory Special Agent Ryker Townsend, in Point Baker. Actually they were hiking to a cabin in the mountains. We’ve got the last coordinates before his SAT phone lost its signal. It’s been nearly three days since we’ve heard from him.”

  “Point Baker is on the northern tip of the island,” Trooper Gus Whitmire said. “I can try her cell, but the reception there isn’t good, especially if they’re in the mountains.”

  She didn’t bother explaining how Ryker’s SAT phone should have worked, but it didn’t sound as if communication with Trooper Justine Peterson would be likely.

  “You haven’t heard from her either?” she asked.

  “No, but we didn’t expect to hear anything. Three days in the mountains isn’t unusual for a round trip and from what I hear, she took personal time,” he said. “Is there something you’d like us to do on our end?”

  “Give me your direct number and I’ll let you know.”

  Lucinda took down his number and ended the call. She’d need help from the locals to cover ground in a hurry, but not without oversight from her team. Any search and rescue operation would have to be contained and kept under wraps. It would be too easy for rumors to fly on a small island.

  If the UNSUB lived in Alaska, the last thing she wanted was for an overzealous local law enforcement officer to spook the killer by accident. On his home turf, the Totem Killer could have a network of contacts and ways to leave the state, especially if he had his own plane. He’d know where to run and have too many miles to hide.