The Last Victim (A Ryker Townsend Story)

by Jordan Dane

  “Justine?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ryker Townsend

  “Yes. It’s me,” Justine said. Her voice was nothing but a raspy whisper.

  The trooper had been taken hostage like Ben and me. I shouldn’t have been happy to see her, but I couldn’t help it. At least she still breathed.

  “What happened? I thought Matson killed you. The blood.”

  “I can’t remember much. Not after he hit me over the head. I was drugged and woke up here,” she said. “What is this place?”

  “I don’t know. I hoped Ben could fill in the blanks.”

  Every word made my head ache. The weight of my body had become my enemy. My legs were numb. The harness cut off my circulation, but seeing Justine gave me hope. Even though I thought of escape and breaking free of my restraints, I wasn’t sure I could walk. I was no better off than a steer in queue for the slaughterhouse and it gave me little comfort I wasn’t alone. If I couldn’t find a way to free all of us, I’d watch Ben and Justine die and share their fate.

  I yanked at the rope that bound my hands. It cut into my wrists and blood had made my skin sticky. The tackiness had given me better traction and the damp hemp had stretched, but not enough yet.

  “Can you get free?” I asked Justine.

  “Don’t know. I can…t-try.”

  She sounded weak and lost—a frailty I never thought I’d hear in her voice. Before I lost heart, I engaged my mind with the case in the only way I knew how. Ben Stevens had been a prisoner the longest. I had to know what had happened to him. He’d be my Rubik’s Cube to puzzle over—and a distraction against my pain.

  “Ben? You awake?”

  I called out to him, careful not to be too loud. I didn’t want to alert our host. When I heard Ben moan, I pressed to get him talking.

  “Tell me what you remember. How did he take you?”

  Before Ben answered, Justine intervened.

  “Why does this matter now?” she asked. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Ben could’ve seen something to help us.”

  “You’re still working the case, aren’t you?” She didn’t sound happy as she tugged at the bindings on her wrists.

  “What case? What’s she talking about?” Ben asked. “Who is she? You act like you know each other.”

  “Justine Peterson. She’s a State Trooper and I’m with the FBI.”

  “What? But how…?’

  Ben stopped and didn’t finish. He narrowed his eyes and stared at both of us. Of my peculiar talents, mind reading wasn’t on the list—until now.

  “I know we don’t look like the cavalry,” I said. “But there’s not enough time to convince you we’re law enforcement. That could take days and sworn testimonies. I need to know what you saw. Tell me how you were abducted, Ben. When and where did it happen?”

  Ben lifted his head with effort and groaned. He turned toward me, but my vision hadn’t cleared enough. I saw his face through the flickers of the red pulsing light. His eyes were dark hollows that made his face look like a skull, an unnerving sight teetering too close to the edge of prophetic.

  “It was on my mother’s birthday.” He choked up when he spoke of his mom and I understood his sudden rush of emotion. The bond I had with my mother made me feel closer to him. We were sons who’d been loved. Unfortunately for Ben, I’d been right when I told my team the UNSUB wouldn’t wait to take his next victim. TK had abducted Ben the same night after we’d investigated the crime scene in the Cascades.

  For his sake, I wished I’d been wrong.

  “It happened at a parking lot…in Belltown. Seattle.” He struggled for every word. “Outside a restaurant. I tried helping a g-guy with his truck, but he…slugged me.”

  “Was it only one man?”

  “Yeah, I guess, but I…c-can’t be sure.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Not really. It happened…too fast.”

  “What did the truck look like? Did it have a company logo?”

  “No logo. It was old and rusted. Blue or green, I think. It had a white canopy. The bastard had the hood up, like he had engine trouble. I fell for it.”

  Like Ben, I had no doubt the raised hood had been a ruse to lure him closer. A good kid like Ben would’ve helped the man if he’d needed it and the canopy would give TK cover to haul bodies without anyone seeing what he carried. The tire treads they’d found in the Cascade Mountains could’ve come from a truck. The pieces to the puzzle were making sense.

  “Anything else you can remember?”

  Ben didn’t answer for a long time. I thought he’d passed out.

  “A plane engine.”

  “What?” Justine said. She stopped moving. The mention of aircraft had grabbed her attention.

  “Yeah, he drugged me, but…” Ben tugged at his restraints and gasped in pain. “I woke up when I heard…”

  “Heard what?” I asked.

  “A plane engine. I felt the turbulence. I was tied up in the cargo hold of a small plane. I think the guy flew it.”

  My own words hit me when I’d talked with my team about how the UNSUB operated. I’m seeing this guy as a commuter who operates outside his body dump sites....

  Too little, too late. Being right about TK—a killer who lived and operated outside of his dumping ground—gave me little satisfaction as I hung trussed like an animal waiting to be gutted. A small aircraft made sense, but it meant the Totem Killer could live anywhere.

  “Why all the questions now?” Ben asked. “How did he get you?”

  How indeed.

  “I’d like to know that, too,” Justine said as she fought the ropes on her hands.

  “Apparently my mental acuity is on par with the average bovine destined for plastic wrap.”

  “I don’t understand.” Ben looked confused and Justine only shook her head.

  “You’re not alone. I suppose that’s my point.” I winced at the brutal pounding of my head. For Justine’s benefit, I added, “I let my guard down and passed out on the trail. I don’t remember much.”

  “Do you think we’re still on the island?” Justine asked. She didn’t expect an answer from Ben. Her eyes fixed on me.

  “Given our abductor is a pilot, we could be…anywhere. What else do you recall, Ben?”

  “When I woke up, I…saw him.” Ben stifled a sob.

  “You saw him?” Justine asked. “What did…?”

  She never got a chance to finish, before Ben had questions of his own.

  “What did I do wrong? Why did he take me?”

  His questions mirrored my own, but for different reasons. I’d crossed paths with the man I’d been hunting. Instinct had brought me to the island, but I hadn’t been in control. The visions of my gift intensified and had taken over. I’d become a victim—of my secret abilities and of the killer I hunted—and had never seen it coming.

  “You did nothing to deserve this, Ben.”

  I said it as much for me as I did for him, but I had earned my place under the knife. I was the enemy. No doubt the Totem Killer would take his time with me—and not for artistic reasons.

  “Don’t look for reason in the face of such madness,” I said. “That’s like…chasing smoke.”

  Victims and their families always tried to make rational sense of unfathomable violence. A reasonable explanation meant a world of order and human decency still existed. In truth none of that mattered in our predicament.

  Not here. Not now.

  I let Ben take his time and grapple his way back to answering my questions. Whatever he’d say, I suspected it would be hard on him. The autopsy of Nathan Applewhite revealed the Totem Killer was a ritualistic sexual sadist. I sensed the menace of the Great White shark of human predators had circled the bloodied waters around Ben.

  Now death filled the room. The air was thick with it.

  Ben had suffered indignities at the hands of a soulless killer and had given up. I couldn’t blame him, but I refused to
quit on Ben and Justine. On me. I gritted my teeth and yanked at the rope that bound my wrists and grimaced with every burn. All I had to do was loosen the binding enough to pull my hand out. If that didn’t work fast enough, I had a backup plan for a Hail Mary pass on third and long.

  Cake.

  Until I broke free of the harness, I’d keep Ben focused. I had to know what he’d seen.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be the next all-you-can-eat buffet for maggots. We’re still breathing. Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me everything you remember. And for all our sakes, don’t leave anything out.”

  ***

  Prince of Wales Island

  Outside Point Baker

  Lucinda stood next to Trooper Whitmire and stared down at a bloodied animal trap. Its metal jaw had been snapped shut with meaty tissue left behind in the teeth of the exposed trap. The ground in the small clearing had been disturbed.

  “It’s a bear trap, but not in season or legal…ever,” Whitmire said. “Poachers, I expect.”

  The trooper’s stern face told her all she needed to know about what he thought of the hunters who would use such an inhumane method to hunt.

  “Whatever happened here, the activity looks recent,” she said as she squatted near the trap and swatted a swarm of mosquitoes from her face. “The tissue is dried and bugs have gotten to it, but the skin looks fairly fresh. Something got caught in the trap.”

  “The clearing has been trampled,” Trooper Sawyer said. “Hard to tell how many boots were on the ground, but the blood trail leads to the cabin. Someone was definitely hurt.”

  Whitmire had told her the A-Star had a crime kit onboard. If they needed to field test for blood and tissue—to make sure the samples were human—they had what they needed, but there was one thing they didn’t have—time. They were running out of daylight to help Ryker and Trooper Justine Peterson.

  Lucinda heaved a sigh as she stared at the trap. In the dying light of the day, she noticed a flutter. Something was stuck to the steel and the breeze had caught it.

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “I see something.”

  Lucinda leaned in for a closer inspection. Something fibrous caught in the teeth of the trap grabbed her attention and she reached for a small strand of it. When she got a closer look, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Fabric…and it’s bloody,” she said. “If I had to guess, it looks like a thread of denim. I’d bet money the blood and tissue in this trap are human. If that’s so, it would explain why we found blood on the trail and in the cabin.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” Whitmire fixed his gaze on her when she stood. “What do you want to do?”

  “We could do an analysis of the scene—to confirm the blood is human—but we’d lose the sun,” she said. “If Ryker and your trooper are in trouble, we’d be wasting time. We need to search for them by air, while we still have good visibility. If we don’t find them on the trail down the mountain, we’d have time to hit Point Baker before dark, right?”

  “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  Lucinda didn’t wait for Whitmire or Sawyer to lead the way back to the A-Star. She pushed her body to get there first as her mind filled with the horrors of the animal trap. Her gut instinct told her the blood and tissue on the metal teeth had been Ryker’s.

  She was no closer to finding him and more worried than ever he’d been the one hurt. That would explain why she hadn’t heard from him. Even with his phone out of commission, Ryker wouldn’t have gone this long without word—not unless something had been terribly wrong.

  ***

  Prince of Wales Island

  Klawock

  After Hutch gave Sinead Royce the remote access she needed to the Klawock Public Library computer system, he talked her through the sign-on procedure from his cell phone. He made sure she could log into the recorded database in search of Thrill-Seeker before he would leave the library with Cam.

  “You have what you need, Sinead?” he asked.

  “I could use a winning lotto ticket and good news on Ryker—not in that order.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. Call me when you have anything on Thrill-Seeker. We’re looking for crumbs here, Royce, but I can make a meal out of anything. Feed it to me as you get it.”

  “I’m on it, Devin.”

  To back their play, Sinead had to work overtime without a clear end in sight. DC was four hours ahead. Even if Sinead had someone on late shift to take over her duties, Hutch knew she would’ve stayed on. They were a team. No one made a big deal about it. They pitched in and worked together. No whining.

  Within fifteen minutes, Hutch and Cam were back at the Alaska State Troopers office. Trooper Dawson Biggers had set up two workstations for them and had offered to make a burger run. Although Hutch was always hungry, he couldn’t think of food, not with Ryker missing. Cam felt the same and they both turned down dinner.

  Sinead had already sent messages on the dates and times that Thrill-Seeker had been logged onto the library system, the occurrences that matched with the Facebook posts on the wall of Ben Stevens. Hutch had a timeframe to work with. It didn’t take long before they were scrolling through endless streams of digital recordings of foot and vehicle traffic, to try and make sense of what they had and find a pattern. They needed a lead to chase—a license tag or a face—that could save Ben before he ended up in a freezer.

  It took time to search the surveillance recordings for the library parking lot and link the patrons who clocked time on the computer. Hutch sat next to Cam and they talked through what they found. The recordings had time stamps to narrow down the day’s activities to speed up their search when they cross-matched everything to the State Troopers’ traffic cams to track vehicles in and out of the library.

  “It’s not top of the line surveillance gear. The quality of the digitals isn’t stellar,” she said.

  “It’s all we have.” Hutch didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “I found a truck that matches with two of Sinead’s post times, but the recording is too grainy to get a license. Maybe Trooper Biggers will recognize something to ID the vehicle. It’s a small town. Worth a shot.”

  “I’ll get him.”

  After Cam left the room to get the young trooper, Hutch rubbed his face and took a short break from the strain of a long day and his staring contest with a computer. Not long ago, he and Cam had received a text message from Lucinda.

  Haven’t found Ryker yet. Headed to Point Baker. Will call soon.

  Devin hoped Lucinda had more luck than he had. When his gaze shifted to a window, he noticed the sun would dip below the skyline and it would be dark soon. Any search for Ryker would come to an end for today if Point Baker turned out to be a bust, but he shoved that thought from his head. No sense borrowing trouble.

  Positive karma, Hutch. Think bunnies and unicorns, asshole.

  “Have a seat, Trooper.” Cam rolled up a chair next to Hutch and Biggers sat down. He smelled of onions and French fries.

  Hutch isolated the recordings he wanted to share with Cam and Biggers, scrolled through the digitals, and slowed things down to hit the key timestamps. After he made his case for the truck, he stopped on an image of the vehicle in question.

  “You recognize anything on this truck to ID it? I know it’s a long shot, but the tags are too grainy to blow the image up, not enough to pull registration.”

  The trooper stared at the screen for a long moment before he shook his head.

  “Sorry. Don’t recognize it, but I can search vehicle registration and pull a list of blue F-150 owners. Would that help?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Hutch slumped into his chair and gripped the armrests as he stared at Cam. It looked as if they’d have a long night ahead, until Trooper Biggers pointed to the computer monitor with a smirk on his face and mustard on his chin.

  “You stumped me on the truck, but do I get points for recognizing who’s driving that vehicle? I saw it a few times as you scrolled throug
h.”

  Devin leaned closer to the screen. When he saw what the trooper meant, he wondered if the guy had been joking, but he looked deadly serious.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Hutch said.

  Ryker’s words came to him in a rush when he said the UNSUB knew how to be invisible and blend in enough to make the victims trust him.

  “Trooper Biggers. Keep talking.” Hutch shrugged. “You have our attention.”

  ***

  Prince of Wales Island

  Point Baker

  The flight of the Alaska State Troopers’ A-Star helicopter paralleled the river gorge. The pilot knew the mountain trails and spoke through Lucinda’s headset and gave her reassurances he’d cover every possible route down to Point Baker.

  So far, no Ryker. No Trooper Peterson.

  Not one hiker or campsite had been spotted from the air and Lucinda’s stomach churned. They’d lose the light soon. The darker it became, the more the dropping temp leached into her bones. Her fingers were ice cold from nerves. She rubbed her hands together to warm them.

  “It’ll be dark soon.” Whitmire’s disembodied voice came over her headset. “Point Baker is small. We’ll have time to put boots on the ground and ask questions. I know where Trooper Peterson lives.”

  Lucinda nodded, but kept her eyes on the mountain trails.

  “We can split up,” Whitmire said. “You and I can hit Justine’s place and have a look see. Sawyer can talk to the residents of Point Baker. You good with that?”

  “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  Lucinda sounded more hopeful than she felt. After Whitmire gave instructions to the pilot on where Trooper Peterson lived, the fuselage of the A-Star dipped to make a landing. Lucinda fought her dark thoughts as the helo plummeted. She’d run low on places to look for Ryker. If he hadn’t been at Applewhite’s cabin and he wasn’t still on the mountain, Point Baker would be her last hope of finding him today.

  Tomorrow she’d have to start over and keep her mind open to all scenarios. She’d have to speak to residents in Point Baker to figure out what Ryker had done from the moment he’d arrived. Applewhite’s cabin and the clearing where they’d found the blood would have to be properly investigated. Volunteers would be needed to search every mountain trail. She had to consider Ryker could be seriously injured—or dead. Her notion of rescue could turn into a body recovery. That would kill her, but she had to stay strong.