The Last Victim (A Ryker Townsend Story)
Page 19
A trek to Alaska wouldn’t only be about finding Benjamin Stevens and Ryker. Her team’s operation might turn into end game if Thrill-Seeker turned out to be their UNSUB.
Lucinda braced for her next phone call. She knew Unit Chief Reynolds would support her decision to take the team to Alaska and give her any resources she’d need, but having to update her on Ryker would be the hardest to do. Reynolds had recruited him and cultivated his career in the FBI.
When it came to Ryker, the unit chief would have plenty of questions.
***
BAU headquarters
Quantico, Virginia
Minutes later
Lucinda had rarely spoken to Unit Chief Reynolds directly. Ryker had been the buffer between them. In person, Reynolds had a stern expression and smiled only on rare occasions. Her intense blue eyes were tenacious and intimidating. As far as she knew, the woman never blinked. Ever. Even on the phone, the seasoned FBI veteran had a way of making Lucinda uneasy.
“Unit Chief Reynolds, this is Special Agent Crowley. I’ve got an update on the Totem Killer case that you should hear and I’m looking for travel authorization to follow a new lead, but first I need to tell you about…Ryker.”
Lucinda filled her in and gave her the facts. As expected, the unit chief asked questions. It had been hard for Lucinda to hold back her personal feelings on Ryker’s growing isolation and her concerns over his mounting fatigue. The guy was definitely haunted by this case, but it wasn’t her place to say, or to speculate on his reasons.
Reynolds had a close relationship with Ryker that at times reminded Lucinda of mother and son, although she would never say that to anyone. They had a bond and a way of communicating that went beyond words. Even when they disagreed, Ryker didn’t back down when he believed in something and Reynolds encouraged him to speak his mind. Her regard for him was obvious and the respect ran both ways.
Lucinda knew if Ryker were missing and in trouble, their unit chief would be more worried than she would let on. She had hired him. Reynolds would feel responsible for him, beyond Ryker working for her. Lucinda knew the news on Ryker would be tough for Reynolds to hear.
“When was the last time you spoke with him directly?”
After Lucinda told her, Reynolds let silence build until the woman finally sighed.
“That’s not like him.”
“No, ma’am. That’s why I called you. We’ve identified another victim who may still be alive…and being tortured by our UNSUB. Our missing person is Benjamin Stevens. If he’s alive, the clock is ticking.”
Lucinda told Reynolds what her team had found and her suspicions. She stuck to the facts, even if it made her look as if she’d dropped the ball where Ryker was concerned.
“Sounds like you feel responsible for Ryker going missing,” Reynolds said. “This is your first time being in charge of the team, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. It makes me appreciate the job Ryker does every day.”
“Don’t let your doubts make you lose focus. They’re a distraction. I agree with your assessment. You have my support…and approval. Your victim Stevens may not have much time. Maybe the same goes for Ryker. Coordinate with the local field office and the state troopers and put me on speed dial. I want to know everything.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll keep you informed of—” Before she could finish, Reynolds hit her with a question she hadn’t expected.
“Tell me the truth, Crowley. Have you noticed a change in Ryker’s behavior?”
Unit Chief Reynolds had asked a tough question, one Lucinda wasn’t prepared to answer. Whether she told the truth or lied, either way could come back to bite her. She didn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t betray Ryker by undermining him in front of his superior, but lying to Reynolds didn’t feel right either.
“He’s a private man. He always has been.”
Lucinda hadn’t lied. She gripped her phone tighter and chewed the inside of her lip. It took all her willpower not to say anything more.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Crowley.”
“No ma’am. Guess it doesn’t…exactly.”
The line went silent and Lucinda thought the call had been dropped. She grimaced and closed her eyes, waiting Reynolds out, when everything in her gut told her to keep talking. She’d seen Ryker do it many times, with deadpan flair and without a blink, but she felt every miserable second of her stoic silence.
She wasn’t like Ryker or Reynolds. Lucinda was a blinker.
After a very long and weighty duration of dead air, Reynolds finally said, “Ryker has rubbed off on you, Crowley.”
Lucinda could’ve sworn the unit chief had a smile to her voice. She wasn’t sure what Reynolds meant by Ryker rubbing off on her, but she hoped the high powered woman had paid her a compliment.
“Find him. Do whatever is necessary and keep me informed,” Reynolds told her. “You were right when you said Ryker is a private man, but something about this case has been wearing him down. I’m concerned about him…like you are.”
“Ma’am, I didn’t say I was—”
“Don’t bother, Special Agent Crowley. Ryker doesn’t think his silence speaks volumes either.”
The line went dead.
Lucinda didn’t have to hear Reynolds say the words that the woman would be watching every move she made, but she’d gotten the message.
***
Prince of Wales Island, Alaska
Ryker Townsend
A chill shot across my skin. It came from the pain and burn of a needle jammed into my neck. The only move I could make had been a shrug.
Fight it. Stay conscious.
I fought to open my eyes, but when I did, I only saw shadows clouding over me like a fast approaching thunderstorm. Bright glimmers of light stabbed my eyes. I thought they were streaks of lightning, but they didn’t carry a sound. No rumble of thunder. Only the blinding light.
Don’t let go. Stay awake.
“Ryker, can you hear me?”
A hand squeezed mine and I felt a soft touch on my cheek. The voice. I recognized it.
“It’s Justine. I’m getting you out of here.”
What…happened to you? The question screamed in my head, but I couldn’t hear my voice. My brain had turned to mush.
Matson. For a split second I’d thought he had me. I felt his menace everywhere, but my mounting hallucinations could’ve been made worse by whatever had been in the shot. I’d been drugged with a syringe to my neck, but the shot must’ve been for pain. Justine had been the one to find me. I took a deep breath and thought of her—alive.
Justine.
When I tried to move, I couldn’t feel my legs or my hands. I opened my mouth, but nothing happened. No sound. The shot made me numb with every passing second and darkness swept over me. I strained to see what had happened, but everything had turned hazy. A shadow stood over me and I felt a hand grab me and strap something tight across my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to puke, but if I did, I would die. I’d choke on my vomit.
Don’t get sick. Breathe through your nose. You puke, you die.
Everything went black. No stabbing light. I struggled to see anything. Couldn’t make sense of what happened until I realized. Someone had put a cover over my head.
Breathe. Keep breathing.
Heavy cloth covered my nose. Every time I took a breath, it suffocated me. It felt like drowning.
Justine! I tried yelling her name, but nothing came out. Had I dreamed her?
I fought to stay conscious, but I was losing the battle. Hands took hold and dragged me by the shoulders. My ankle hurt like hell and the miserable groan I heard had come from me, but the pain didn’t stop until I was dumped onto a metal frame. The thing rocked on wheels as I was strapped onto it.
Something fell across my chest and my legs. The last strap cut across my neck. I couldn’t move. Had I been wrong about being rescued by Justine? Had my guilt about the way she died forced me to hallucinate her being alive?
Matson. Could it be him?
I remembered closing my eyes on the trail, exhausted. I must’ve fallen asleep. Flashes of red, pieces of my fragmented memory were coming together too late. Oh, God. No. Panic seized me. I fought the restraints, but my moves were sluggish. My upper body jerked and I thought my head would explode. The motion. The feel of it, I knew I was on wheels now.
An engine started. Loud. Near my head. The size of the vehicle and the way it tilted when someone climbed on, it had to be a four-wheeler. I smelled gas and my stomach lurched as I got pulled and jostled down an incline. The wheels crunched on gravel and kicked up dirt as the vehicle hauled my weight hitched behind it.
Through the fog in my muddled brain, the rumble of the engine turned to menacing thunder. The noise raged in my head and I fought the nausea, made worse by the bumpy ride down a steep grade. With every jolt, the straps cut into me and I gagged.
I let the storm sweep over me—and through me—to rain down its blustering darkness. The last thing I saw was the dead eyes of Nathan Applewhite.
***
The low murmur of rolling waves came to me first, before I smelled the briny ocean. A chill raced over my body as a crush of seawater sent me tumbling under its weight. A swell of bubbles blinded me until I couldn’t tell up from down. I shut my eyes and drifted to the bottom until I sensed the water held a dark presence that churned the depths from a distance. The whale had returned. This time the behemoth scared me. I sensed its brutality aimed at me. I fought to wake up, but couldn’t. Seaweed grappled with my arms and legs until I couldn’t breathe and my lungs burned.
I heard someone yell. It sounded like me.
Chapter Seventeen
Ketchikan, Alaska
Late Afternoon
“Thanks for the assist. I owe you one.” Lucinda Crowley shook the hand of Alaska State Trooper Guy Whitmire without breaking stride on the Ketchikan Airport tarmac.
“Glad to help,” the trooper said.
Whitmire was in uniform and stood as tall as Ryker, but had a beefy thirty pounds on him. His burr cut, meaty jowls, and wide jaw made it appear the older man had no use for a neck, except to button his collar.
Lucinda and her team headed for the helicopter they’d chartered to search the Prince of Wales Island. She’d contacted Whitmire en route to Alaska—shared her tentative search plans—and arranged for the man to meet them at the charter service.
“After your last call, I figured you could use another helo to hit it hard before we lose good visibility.” Whitmire pointed to a nearby helicopter decked out in Trooper decal. “We got us a new A-star for search and rescue. If you’re willing to split your team, she’s at your service.”
When Lucinda saw the Trooper aircraft, she let out a heavy sigh of relief. She’d have greater flexibility to search the Prince of Wales Island before nightfall. Travel time to get to Ketchikan had eaten up most of the daylight. The time change helped and would give them four extra hours, but she had a feeling they’d need every advantage before it became too dark to do a proper search.
Ryker’s last known coordinates—pinged by Sinead off his SAT phone—had been near Point Baker on the northern tip of the island. Their search for Ben Stevens would start near Klawock, further south. For any avenues worth pursuing, her team could cover ground in a hurry with two aircraft.
She prayed it would be enough.
“That’s very generous. Thank you.” Lucinda glanced at Hutch and said, “I’ll hitch a ride with Trooper Whitmire to look for Ryker at Applewhite’s cabin. You and Cam take the charter to Klawock and hit the library. Use Sinead to search their computer system remotely while you and Cam look for security and traffic cams. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Hutch stopped and fixed his gaze on Lucinda. Cam mirrored his solemn expression.
“If you find anything, good or bad, we want to know the minute you do,” he said.
The gravity of what they’d come to do hit Lucinda hard as she stared at Hutch and Cam. They’d avoided talking about Ryker and what it meant for his SAT phone to be out of commission. It was as if saying the words aloud—that Ryker could be hurt or dead—would make it true.
Lucinda could think of a worse scenario. What if they never found him? What if he simply vanished and they never knew what happened? The reality of that sent her reeling, but she took a deep breath and pictured Ryker—alive.
“I understand. Yeah, you got it. With any luck, I’ll have Ryker with me the next time I see you.” She grimaced and said, “But the clock is ticking on Ben Stevens. If he’s still on the island, we’ve got to find him. Call me as soon as you know anything.”
She had to keep her team focused on the search for Stevens. The guy was definitely missing and had been tracked to the island. All she had on Ryker was his offline phone and a bad feeling. She had enough reason to be concerned and had a duty to look for Ryker, but she couldn’t let her judgment be clouded by her feelings for him, not when another life hung in the balance. If the UNSUB had Stevens, Ben would be brutally tortured until TK killed him. In a shadowy corner of Lucinda’s mind, she heard Ben’s struggling heart pound as if he were living on borrowed time.
His life could depend on every decision she made. No pressure.
Lucinda tossed her ready bag into the A-Star and climbed in. Whitmire joined her and buckled up. As the pilot prepared for takeoff, she watched her team through her passenger window. After Hutch helped Cam into the charter, he stared across the tarmac and fixed his gaze on Lucinda. She’d seen Hutch’s worried face before. He nudged his chin and shot Lucinda a thumbs-up sign before he climbed aboard the charter.
She didn’t have to hear Hutch say what was on his mind. She knew.
We’ll find him, Devin. We have to.
***
Prince of Wales Island
Klawock, Alaska
By helicopter from the Ketchikan Airport, it took no time to reach Klawock on the Prince of Wales Island. The bumpy ride left Hutch queasy, but his unsettled stomach had more to do with why they’d come.
Lucinda had banked on his notion of how the UNSUB hunted online and targeted his victims. Hutch had faith in his theory, but with someone’s life on the line, second guesses were normal. To make matters worse, Ryker fit the victimology profile as Lucinda had suspected, which made his offline SAT phone a bigger worry.
Things had become complicated in a hurry and Hutch felt the urgency to be right.
As the helicopter circled for a place to touch down, Cam shot him a sympathy look. He’d never been good at hiding anything from her. Inside the fuselage, the engine noise was too loud for them to talk in private, so she’d settled on sending him her commiseration without words.
The pilot hovered over a helipad painted on asphalt near the small Trooper facility. The State Troopers had a local office in Klawock, giving the charter a safe place to touch down. From there, Sinead had arranged for a trooper to drive them to the library where they’d tracked the IP address for Thrill-Seeker.
On the ride over, Hutch called Sinead to check in.
“We’re in Klawock. Send me what you found out about the dates and times the Thrill-Seeker was online for social media. We’ll cross check that against the library’s system access and surveillance cams. Those times will also help narrow the search through traffic cams around the library.”
“Just sent the social media date and time hits, Devin,” Sinead said. “You should have it…”
An alert sounded on his cell phone that he’d received a message.
“Yeah, got it.” Hutch thumbed through his phone. “We’ll be working with the troopers on the traffic cam surveillance, but once we get to the library, we’ll need you to tap into their computer system on remote to tighten the noose. Maybe our Thrill-Seeker left a cookie trail for what he did online.”
“If he did, I’ll find it. Just get me logged in, Hutch.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll be in touch.” He smiled as he ended the call.
“I’m Special Agent Hutchison with the FBI.” In a low voice, he introduced Cam and the trooper. “We’re here on official business. Who’s in charge?”
The stunned librarian stared long and hard at his credentials as if she were committing his ID badge to memory—or spell checking it.
“Ma’am?” He waited until she looked him in the eye. “We need your help. Now.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry. I’ll get Mrs. Levine.”
After the woman rushed around the corner, a kid dressed in a yellow and green UAA Seawolves hockey jersey approached Hutch with a smirk on his face. The boy glanced over his shoulder to his buddies who were sitting at a table, thumbing through magazines.
“Are you here to arrest somebody?” the kid asked.
“That depends. You owe any library fines?”
The kid scrunched his face and pointed to the weapon Hutch wore under his FBI windbreaker.
“You ever shoot anybody with that gun?”
“You mean at the last library? That wasn’t my fault.”
The boy blinked wide-eyed and his face flushed red. He backed off and left without another word. Camilla stared at Hutch with arms crossed.
“What?” he shrugged.
Cam only shook her head.
When she didn’t encourage him with a reply, Hutch leaned against the desk counter and studied the library layout. After he found what he’d been looking for, he grinned at Cam and pointed at several security cameras.
“We got eyes. Fingers crossed those surveillance cams work…and that we hit pay dirt.”