Untold

by Nancy Ann Healy

  “Do you honestly believe there are two killers?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t know. All we have are theories, and that one is as plausible as any other. Either we have one sadistic son-of-a-bitch, or we have one SOB and his fan.”

  “I wonder what one would say about the other?” Claire mused.

  Alex kept her eyes fixed on the work a few feet away. Good question, Claire. That is a very good question.

  ***

  Governor Candace Reid listened carefully to her staff as they ran down a list of issues that were likely to land on her plate. Some days the list seemed endless. The beep of her phone’s intercom stifled the conversation in her office.

  “Yes, Susan?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Governor. You have a call from Agent Toles.”

  Candace wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful for the reprieve or apprehensive about the reason. She looked at her staff. “We’ll continue this after lunch,” she told them, leaving no room for debate. She watched as her press secretary nodded and closed the door. “Put her through, Susan…. Alex.”

  “Governor.”

  “Why do I have the feeling this call is not an invitation for dinner?”

  “Probably because in that case, it would be Cass calling.”

  Candace chuckled. “Something I need to know?”

  “Actually, no—something I need your help with.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m not sure you are going to like it.”

  Candace laughed. “Alex, I don’t like ninety percent of the things I get told. You wouldn’t be calling me unless it mattered. I told you; whatever you needed to let me know. So? Let’s have it.”

  “Okay. Here it is….”

  ***

  Cassidy sat glued to the television. It had been years since she had seen images of Alex on the screen. She listened attentively.

  According to a source close to the case, the FBI’s working theory is that there are two killers at large. At least one of the murders they are investigating was committed by a different person.

  Cassidy’s jaw dropped as a female anchor asked the next question. “So, the FBI believes these are unrelated?” Cassidy waited to hear the response.

  That’s the interesting part. The source would not go as far as to say the murders are unrelated; only that they were committed by different people. Tandem killers? We just don’t know. What we do know is that there are four dead women and according to that same source, the FBI suspects there are more victims.

  “Oh, my God,” Cassidy shook her head as the anchor levied another question.

  You’ve covered these kinds of cases for years, Mark. How unusual is this? Two killers? That must make the situation far more difficult for the investigators.

  It does. To answer your first question, I’ve not seen a case quite like this in my career. If there are two killers working in such close proximity, the FBI has to consider the possibility that they are working together. That scenario would be preferable from an investigator’s standpoint. The possibility of unique serial murderers operating so closely at the same time will present enormous challenges.

  Alex hadn’t shared any of the specifics of the case she was working with Cassidy. They’d been like ships passing in the night for two weeks. When they had time together, conversations had centered on family, not on Alex’s day at work. Cassidy was ready to turn the television off when the anchor’s next statement stopped her.

  This investigation has some history attached to it. The agent in charge as I understand it is a bit of a celebrity. Does that give you any more confidence in a timely resolution?

  You are right, of course. Many people will recognize Agent Alexis Toles from her connection with President John Merrow and the high-profile case that introduced her to her wife.

  Cassidy felt her mouth go dry as footage from her abduction ten years earlier rolled across the screen.

  “That’s enough,” Alex’s voice echoed from the door way. Alex moved to the bed, picked up the remote and switched off the television. “You don’t need to watch that.”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Is it true? Do you think there are two killers out there?”

  “It’s a possibility—yes.”

  “How much will this hurt you? The press getting hold of this?”

  “Might not hurt at all,” Alex commented. She shed her clothes and slid into the bed beside Cassidy. “I don’t want to talk about any of that.”

  Cassidy sighed. “I wish you would talk to me.”

  “How do I explain this to you?”

  “Just say what you feel.”

  “Cass, when I come home after a day like today? You’re the place where I can banish those images. I don’t want to see that ugliness. I don’t want to visit that when I’m here—not here. I know there is ugliness in the world. I don’t want you to see it. I don’t…”

  “Alex, I have seen it. We both have. But I understand. At least, I think I do.”

  “I’m sorry that you had to see those pictures again.”

  Cassidy closed her eyes as Alex cuddled up beside her. “It’s all right. It’s part of the past.”

  “I’d rather think about the future.” Alex moved to place a loving kiss on Cassidy’s lips. “I hate being away from you so much,” she confessed as her kisses drifted lower.

  Cassidy looked down at Alex. Alex was placing light kisses across Cassidy's stomach while her left hand traced a delicate pattern in their wake. Cassidy’s eyes fluttered shut in contentment. This would be a frequent exercise for months. Cassidy would treasure every moment while she could. Alex had done this with each of Cassidy's pregnancies. When Cassidy had miscarried, she’d awakened the next night to Alex in this same position. She often pondered that many people would be surprised by the tenderness Alex possessed.

  “Alex,” Cassidy called softly. Alex lifted her face to look in Cassidy's eyes. Cassidy wiped a tear from the corner of Alex's eye with her thumb.

  “Cass?” Alex asked.

  Cassidy smiled. Alex’s hand sat protectively over Cassidy's middle. She combed her fingers through Alex’s hair, and lifted her brow in reply.

  “If it’s a boy,” Alex began. “I was wondering... I mean, I know we always talk about this, and I know it’s a long way off still, and who knows? It could be another girl...”

  “Alex,” Cassidy chuckled at the familiar rambling

  “Just... How would you feel about the name Brian?”

  Cassidy caressed Alex’s cheek. She had loved Alex’s former FBI partner as much as Alex had. Just as the images Cassidy had witnessed on the television had conjured memories, Cassidy was sure that the case Alex was working had taken Alex back in time more than once. That would inevitably lead to thoughts of Brian Fallon. Fallon had been more than Alex’s partner; he’d been part of their family. In fact, his children and his widow remained close to Alex and Cassidy’s family. Fallon’s death had dealt an emotional blow to them both. Cassidy had thought that Alex would want to name Connor after their friend. When Alex didn’t suggest it, Cassidy assumed the loss of their friend had still been too fresh.

  “I think it’s perfect,” Cassidy replied honestly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Cassidy felt Alex’s breathing even out. She kissed the top of Alex’s head. She felt Alex move in her embrace and mumble.

  “Alex?” Cassidy laughed when she realized Alex was asleep. The only words she made out were tacos and Batman. She laughed. “I love you, Alfred.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “No offense, Toles, but you look like shit.”

  Alex lifted her coffee cup from the holder beside her and took a sip. Her eyes remained focused on the road ahead. She was exhausted. The night had taken an unexpected turn when Alex had been awakened by Cassidy screaming in her sleep. The notion that the past couldn’t hurt you was a crock of shit from Alex’s perspective. She hated the reality she found herself in.
<
br />   “Maybe we could just hook you up to that,” Claire pointed to the coffee cup in Alex’s hand.

  “I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “I thought married couples gave that shit up.”

  Alex sighed. “Cassidy had a rough night.”

  “She sick?” Claire asked with concern.

  “No.”

  Claire thought for a moment. It was unusual for Cassidy not to come down and greet her in the morning. “What’s wrong with Cass?” she asked Alex.

  “She had a flashback. To tell you the truth, I thought maybe those were a thing of the past for her.”

  “Fisher,” Claire guessed. It was understandable. The serial killer case had made the national news for the past two nights. Alex’s face was everywhere, and that inevitably meant the media felt the need to revisit the past. Someone had leaked details of the investigation—details and theories to the press. “Fucking news. I swear, it wasn’t me that leaked that shit.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?” Claire had expected Alex to suspect her immediately. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

  “Couldn’t have been you if it was me.”

  “What? You leaked that information to the press? Why?”

  Alex took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. Reality. She would deploy every asset she needed to if she thought it might help her catch their killer or killers. Claire’s musings over what one killer might think of the other had sparked an idea. Alex was fortunate that she had people she could trust to implement that idea. Having powerful friends sometimes proved beneficial. Alex never reached out to the friends she had in public office unless she deemed it necessary. She had no doubt that whether one or two killers, the victims would continue to pile up until she and Claire put a stop to it. She’d lost her temper two days earlier when one of the agents assigned to the task force had said, “Time is on our side, not his.” Technically, that was true. Eventually, the truth would come out as long as they persisted in a dogged investigation. Some tiny piece of evidence would turn up, some witness; either that or the killer would make a mistake. Time was on the side of the investigator, not the criminal. Time was not on the side of the next innocent woman who fell prey while investigators combed through tin cans in ponds. Alex needed something to tip time in that girl’s favor. She’d approached the one person she knew could help without discovery. If there was any small ray of light in this case, it was the fact that she had Governor Candace Reid in her corner.

  “Sometimes, Claire if you want to catch the devil you have to go to hell.”

  “Yeah? So, that means Cass has to go too?”

  Alex set her coffee cup back in the holder and massaged her temple. She hated it when Cassidy revisited the ordeal with Carl Fisher. She remembered the fear she had felt, the anger that seethed in her veins when she saw Cassidy’s wrists, and the relief she had felt when Cassidy had collapsed into her arms. And, now? Now, it conjured animosity toward the woman beside her; an emotion Alex could afford. Claire had manipulated Fisher, toyed with him, perhaps even encouraged him. Alex did know that Claire Brackett had done nothing to stop him from harming Cassidy. That was the past. That’s what Cassidy would say. That’s what Cassidy had reminded Alex earlier that morning. Stop chasing ghosts. It wasn’t the first time someone had given Alex that advice.

  “I’m all right,” Cassidy told Alex.

  “Cass, I know how…”

  Cassidy smiled gently at her wife. “You know,” she said. “When I was a kid, not long after my father disappeared, I went through this period where I was afraid of ghosts—terrified, actually. My grandmother sat at the side of my bed one night. I’ve never forgotten what she told me. She said, ‘Cassidy, you have far more to fear from the living than you do from the dead. Ghosts can’t hurt you.’ She was right, Alex. That’s all this is—a ghost.”

  Alex pulled Cassidy into her arms. Ghosts might not have the ability to inflict physical harm; memories could torture a soul. Alex knew that as well as anyone. She had battled demons from the past for years, memories that at times were so vivid she could feel the heat of the explosion that had injured her, and the blood that pooled down her back. But, it was just a memory of a moment. Cassidy was right. The living had the ability to create that scenario for each other. It was Alex’s job to put an end to that as often as she could.

  “Just find him,” Cassidy whispered in Alex’s ear. “Stop him,” she said. “No one deserves that nightmare, Alex.”

  “Why?” Claire asked Alex.

  Alex pulled the car over to the side of the road, cut the engine, and looked at Claire.

  “Well?” Claire urged.

  Alex contemplated her answer for a moment. Claire Brackett was a talented agent. Alex couldn’t deny that. But, Claire had spent most of her career playing both sides of a convoluted game. Being an FBI agent in earnest differed. Alex had spent years before immersing herself in the spy game as an FBI profiler and investigator. She’d worked cases like this before. Her job was to immerse herself in the mind of the killer so that she could catch him. That sometimes meant taking a journey to hell that Alex hoped she’d come back from. She sighed.

  “Claire,” Alex said. “Do you know the difference between a serial killer and an assassin?”

  “One is on the payroll.”

  “Right. One gets paid for his pleasure. The other’s pay is his pleasure.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a game,” Alex said. “There’s a reason serial killers escalate their violence over time. At first, they don’t even kill. They hunt. They watch. They might even indulge. They get that first taste of power, of controlling life and death and they can’t stop. After a while? After a while, it’s not enough. They’ve mastered that. Their violence becomes more sadistic. Their predatory inclination goes into overdrive.”

  “What does that have to do with you leaking shit to the media?”

  “No serial killer likes to share the spotlight.”

  “You think if there is only one killer, he’ll want the credit.”

  “Exactly. He still thinks he’s the cat chasing the mouse. He’s about to face the wolf chasing the cat.”

  “Sounds like one of my father’s nursery rhymes. His way of giving me lessons.”

  “Might be a good analogy. We’re about to become the teacher,” Alex said. “He’s no longer just the hunter. He’s being hunted. It’s a new game.”

  “So, you thought you’d lay a trap for him?”

  “Not a trap, just a breadcrumb.”

  Claire nodded. “You think he’ll follow the breadcrumbs home?”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  ***

  “Horrible news,” a woman’s voice commented.

  Bryce Duncan sat back in his comfortable recliner and sipped his beer. “It is.”

  “Do you think they’ll catch him before he kills anyone else?” his wife asked.

  “Hard to say,” Bryce replied.

  “I’ll bet you’ll be getting a lot of calls from that area for security systems.”

  “Not my division,” he said. “But, I suppose that’s probably true.”

  “Don’t you know that detective?” she asked.

  Bryce smiled. His wife sometimes amused him. He often forgot that just because he lived in the land of law enforcement, security, and intelligence agencies; she did not. FBI, CIA, police, NSA—he doubted May knew the difference between any of them. “You mean, Agent Toles?” he asked. She nodded. “We’ve met a few times,” he told her. “Funny thing—she’s actually supposed to meet with me tomorrow.”

  “Why?” May wondered.

  Bryce Duncan had spent years in the military before signing on to work at Gestalt. Twenty years as a Navy Seal had taught Bryce a good deal about security systems. He was the ideal person to design impenetrable systems. After all, he’s been cracking them for years. “Oh, she’s just filling in for her brother, I suspect,” he explained. “Their family holds controlling interest in Care
com. It’s one of our largest accounts.”

  May looked at the television and back at her husband. “Who would do such a thing?” she shook her head.

  Bryce sipped his beer and shrugged. Oh, you’d be surprised.

  ***

  Alex walked through the door after another long day of dead-ends. She set down her bag and stretched her back until it popped.

  “Mom!”

  Alex looked up the stairs and chuckled. “Hold your horses, Kenz!” Alex called up.

  “Oh, God,” Cassidy walked into view. “Please, no visuals with horses,” she shuddered.

  Alex looked at her curiously.

  “Don’t ask,” Cassidy said, holding up her hand. “Let’s just say I don’t think anyone in this house will be going on a pony ride for a while.”

  Alex knew better than to ask.

  “Mom!” Mackenzie’s voice grew demanding.

  Cassidy’s jaw tightened.

  “What’s her 911?” Alex asked.

  “Who knows?” Cassidy replied dryly. “She has an awards banquet at school tomorrow. I imagine she is rehearsing acceptance speeches or something.”

  That wouldn’t surprise Alex at all. “You want me to go?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “No. You could do me a favor and attempt to pry the twins away from the television for dinner.”

  “Oh? What’s in it for me?”

  “Paper plates,” Cassidy said.

  Alex laughed. “You mean, I get to avoid dish duty?”

  Cassidy grinned.

  “Mom!”

  “I’m coming!” Cassidy yelled back and headed up the stairs.

  Alex shook her head. She honestly believed that what Cassidy dealt with far eclipsed the challenges she faced at work. “I have no idea how she does it.”

  “Used to be with wine,” Cassidy called back.

  Alex chuckled at Cassidy’s good-natured sense of humor. She imagined that there were days Cassidy would love to drink an entire bottle of wine. She wandered the short way down the hall and around the corner to the family room.