by L. T. Vargus
“So we do nothing? We sit back and wait for him to kill again?”
“Not exactly. We’re pursuing other avenues of being proactive. Let’s just say things are in motion higher up the chain at this point. I can’t go into detail, you understand.”
“I see.”
“I know how you’re feeling, though. When you’ve got a piece of the case, and it gets taken away, it makes you feel powerless. Empty. But trust me. We’re working on it. Doing all the things we should be doing.”
McAdoo chewed his lip before he answered.
“Well, I do trust you. I guess that’s why I wanted to talk to you about it. I figured if I heard it from you that we were doing the right thing, I’d believe it. And maybe that’d help me let it go. Like, move on or whatever. I haven’t been able to sleep, you know? Just…”
The quiet rose up between them a moment, McAdoo’s teeth working at that bottom lip again.
“It’s like cats and dogs, you know?” Loshak said.
McAdoo tried to make sense of this. Couldn’t. His brow crumpled.
“What?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about my pets. Two cats and a dog. Haven’t seen them for weeks now. This whole thing reminds me of them, I guess. My cats are all over me when I’m the only human around. Jumping up on the couch to get pet. Screeching at me to get fed. So on. But if anyone else comes over — a stranger, I mean — they run and hide under the bed for hours.
“The dog is just the opposite. He charges to the door to confront any would-be intruder on his turf. He smells the guest, looks them straight in the eye, sizes up the situation face to face and only then will he calm down.
“It’s two different ways of looking at the world, you know? A cat sees individuals above all else. Almost like an artist’s point of view, I think. She sees everything through the lens of individuals and relationships. If something disrupts that intricate web of connections — such as a stranger’s presence — she’ll disengage and keep to herself a while.
“A dog sees territory to control. He’s cognizant of individuals, but his primary concern is controlling his environment in a direct, assertive way. He wants to feel in control. If you cross that threshold into his territory, you will be dealt with. Even if that only means you’ll be barked at a few times.”
They fell quiet again. The cruiser rolled through downtown Athens, a strip of shops and restaurants with pedestrians out. It looked more urban than anything else in the county, and after about two blocks, it was past, the atmosphere veering back to a rural feel.
“So you’re saying I’m like a dog?” McAdoo said.
Loshak laughed.
“I guess in a way. Sorry, I’ve had a fever. Maybe I’m not making much sense. Dogs are considered man’s best friend, right? And cats are a feminine symbol. Maybe there’s something to that.”
McAdoo nodded, but he didn’t think he understood it at all. He wondered if Loshak was going loopy, sicker than anyone realized. He’d seen the man grimace often whenever they were together. Poor bastard.
Chapter 55
The Athens City Police Department was located across the street from a row of frat houses. Darger smirked when she considered how much that probably put a damper on parties.
The street was old, narrow, and paved with bricks. The tires rumbled over the irregular surface. It was a pleasant sound to Violet, reminding her of childhood somehow.
Loshak parked the car in a visitor spot, and they headed up a flight of concrete stairs and through a set of glass doors.
“Gotta make a pit stop,” Loshak said as they passed the sign for the men’s room. “You go on ahead. We’re meeting in Interview Room 1.”
The door to the john swung open and Darger got a whiff of public bathroom odor: cheap toilet paper, industrial cleaners, and stale urine.
She found the appointed room, entered. The door automatically closed behind her. It was a sparse little chamber — they usually were — with three chairs, a table, and a phone. With her foot, she scooted one of the chairs closer to the table and took a seat.
A few minutes later, the door handle clicked, the steel door swinging wide. Detective Luck sauntered in.
He looked startled to see that it was only her in the room.
“Where’s Agent Loshak?”
“Restroom,” she said simply.
The disquiet between them was palpable. Neither of them uttered a word until Loshak bustled in a moment later.
“Good morning, Casey.”
Loshak sat down.
“You talk to Fiona Worthington’s parents about the vigil?”
“Yes, sir,” Luck said. “They are more than willing to do anything we ask if it might help catch the guy.”
“Excellent.”
“And the Chief told me to pass on that he scheduled a press conference for this afternoon.”
“Just in time for the evening news. Perfect.”
Loshak straightened a pile of papers he’d brought along with him on the table top.
“Let’s see if we can’t get you prepped for your date with the camera in the next few hours, eh?”
He winced and brought a fist to his mouth, and Darger wondered if he was feeling alright. He cleared his throat and continued before she could give it much further thought.
“I know it seems silly, to coach you like this,” Loshak said, “but you really are playing a part. And the fewer people in on it, the better. I’ve tried this before where we let the reporter in on the game, and they always blow it. Try to get cute and clever when they’re writing up the story. Make a mess of things.”
“I get it,” Luck said.
“It’ll be tempting to say ‘We’ and ‘The Athens Police Department’ and ‘The Investigation.’ It’s what you tend to hear in most police statements, but it really would be best if you could use ‘I’ as often as possible. We want him to identify with you specifically.”
Luck nodded and scrawled something on his notepad.
“Though giving some attention to the fact that we’ve assembled a multi-agency task force would be flattering to him as well. The bigger and more official we can make it sound, the better. Something with a long name and maybe an acronym. Southern Ohio Serial Killer? Or Athens Area Serial Killer. Something like that. Of course, the media will end up using Doll Parts Killer or Doll Parts Murders, but that’s fine. We just want our task force to impress him.”
“What about Hocking River Killer,” Luck suggested.
“Sounds like an homage to the Green River Killer,” Darger said, her face buried in her own notes.
“Good point,” Loshak said. “He’ll like that. Also, be sure to stress that you’re consulting with the FBI.”
“Two FBI agents. From Quantico,” Darger offered.
Loshak snapped his fingers.
“Yes. Good. He’s so goddamn important, they sent in a team of us.”
“You said no names, though, right?” Luck asked.
“God, no. Bureau would probably shit bricks if either one of us ends up in another newspaper.”
“I’d hardly call The Daily Gawk a newspaper,” Darger said, half-heartedly defending herself.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s focus on the task at hand.”
She shrugged.
“What if, in the middle of all the chatter that’s supposed to play on the killer’s ego, he drops in a line encouraging people to call the tip line?”
She couldn’t even bring herself to address Luck by name.
Wrinkles formed across Loshak’s forehead.
“Many killers have called tip lines for their own crimes. This guy might be too smart for that, but it couldn’t hurt to plant the idea.”
“Exactly.”
“I like it,” Loshak said.
“You really think he’d take the bait that easy?” the detective asked.
Loshak leaned back in the chair, and it gave out a creak of protest.
“That’s the million dollar question. Are we just spinning around in
circles like dogs chasing our tails? Or are we clever pussycats, setting a trap and then stalking our prey? Only time will tell.”
Agent Loshak pondered the brick wall for a moment and leveled his gaze at Luck.
“I guarantee you one thing, though. He’s watching, and he’s loving it.”
“What if a reporter asks a question I’m not prepared for?”
“No questions,” Loshak said. “We’ll do interviews on an individual basis, but opening up for questions puts you at risk of getting off-topic. The press conference is a conversation between you and the killer. No one else.”
Darger and Loshak stood toward the back of the room, waiting for the press conference to start. They were tucked off to one side, out of the way of the cameras and reporters.
The podium outfitted with the logo of the Athens Police Department stood empty at the front for now, but the rest of the room was filled with a bustling excitement. Cameramen angled lights and adjusted headphones and tweaked settings on their rigs.
Detective Luck appeared in the doorway, flanked by the Chief of Police and Sheriff O’Day. She thought both the other men looked a little peeved. Like maybe they were annoyed it wasn’t them headed for the spotlight. A hush fell over the mass. Luck strode to the platform at the front and took up his position.
Agent Loshak inclined his head toward Darger and muttered, “Commence Operation Angler Fish.”
She smirked, not taking her eyes from the podium. Loshak had jokingly referred to the plan as Operation Angler Fish earlier in the day. Despite the fact that he’d said it in jest, the name had stuck. The idea being that they, like the angler fish, were hoping to lure their prey in close enough to catch him in their jaws.
Through the stuttering strobe of the camera flashes that had begun as soon as the detective took his place, she had to admit that Loshak had been right. Luck looked every bit the handsome, clean-cut gumshoe in front of the lights.
He read from the prepared statement they’d put together, making sure to look directly into the cameras often, what Loshak had called “eye contact with the killer.” His voice was clear and sincere, with just the right amount of gravitas. Darger glanced at Loshak. He was riveted, his eyes taking on a slightly manic look.
At the end of the statement, Luck lifted his chin and stared more intently into the lenses of the cameras surrounding him.
“I’d like to take a moment, on behalf of the family of Fiona Worthington, to bring attention to a candlelight vigil and memorial service being held at the university. Fiona’s family would like to invite anyone in the community who has been moved by these tragic events to join them in a night of remembrance and hope. Thank you.”
Detective Luck abandoned the podium to a murmur of unanswered queries from the reporters, despite the fact that he’d specified at the beginning of the conference that he would not be taking questions at this time.
It was a while before Darger and Loshak could make their way out of the room. The throng of news crews and equipment blocked the path, all jamming up the doorway by trying to leave at once.
They hung back until the crowd cleared, and then returned to Interview Room 1. Luck was sitting on the table inside, sipping water from a paper cup.
“Hot under all those lights,” he said, lowering the cup. His forehead glistened with a thin sheen of sweat.
“You handled it well, Detective. Good work,” Loshak said and held out his hand.
There was a celebratory shaking of hands between the two men. Darger hung back, arms crossed.
“I say we call it a night for the moment. Tomorrow we can start on the one-on-one interviews, and then we’ll begin prepping the Worthingtons for their part.”
Darger thought she would have felt some sense of relief now that the day was over. They’d done it. Their task for the day was complete. Things had gone well, or as well as they’d hoped. But she still had an uneasy tension running through her.
“You hungry?” Loshak asked, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car.
“Starving,” she said.
It was a pleasant night as they rolled through Athens proper. Darger put her window down to enjoy the night air.
“You ever seen an angler fish?”
Darger shook her head.
“I don’t know. What do they look like?”
“Ugly as hell. Giant upturned mouth with a big over-sized jaw and long spiny teeth. And then a little dangly thing comin’ off the forehead that they use as the lure.”
“Sounds adorable.”
“Heh. Yeah. Also, some species of angler fish are known for sexual parasitism. Meaning when they find a mate, the male actually bites onto her, and his saliva dissolves her flesh and the two fuse together. He gets all his nutrients through her, and she gets sperm to fertilize her eggs.”
“Jesus,” Darger said. “What are you, a part-time marine biologist now?”
Loshak chuckled. He seemed in better spirits and better health than he had been maybe the entire time she’d been there.
“Nah, I just collect interesting factoids like that. Curiosities of the universe, if you will.”
Night had fallen, and over the line of trees to the east, Darger could see a crescent moon rising.
“I guess it’s extra appropriate then,” she said, half to herself.
“What’s that?”
“The name. Operation Angler Fish? Parasitic males and all.”
“Huh,” Loshak said, guiding the car into the drive-thru lane at Wendy’s. “True.”
Chapter 56
Detective Luck’s red van was already parked in the Worthingtons’ driveway when Darger and Loshak arrived at the house. The Luckmobile. She rolled her eyes as they passed it on their way up the front walk.
Darger rang the bell, and Fiona’s mother answered, welcoming them inside.
“Good to see you again, Agent Darger,” she said. “Agent Loshak.”
Violet couldn’t help but eye the carafe of fake lemonade in the foyer while Lois stowed their coats in a closet in the hallway.
Thankfully, Mrs. Worthington didn’t mention it.
When they reached the living room, Luck was seated on the couch with a young blond girl. Darger figured she was about 20 years old, and by the resemblance, knew this must be Fiona’s younger sister.
By the way they were both tapping furiously at their phones, Darger thought they were playing some kind of game.
And indeed, the girl said suddenly, “Oh man. I almost had you right there.”
“Emily,” Lois said, “this is Special Agent Darger and Special Agent Loshak from the FBI.”
Emily Worthington was a smaller, less striking version of her sister. It wasn’t that she was unattractive. But the long limbs and regal posture of Fiona had been shrunken down on Emily. She was the petite version of her sister, with a heart-shaped face and slightly upturned nose. Those features, coupled with her wide-spaced green eyes, gave her an elven appearance.
The girl seemed hesitant to tear her focus away from Detective Luck. He sat straight forward, feet facing a carved mahogany coffee table in front of the sofa, his phone clutched in his palms. But the girl was positioned fully sideways, her feet up on the cushions and folded to one side. She was leaned in, chin down, eyelashes batting away whenever she looked up at the detective.
Smitten, was the word that popped into Violet’s head.
“Pause,” the girl said, reaching an arm out to swipe at the screen in Luck’s hand. “No cheating.”
Something else thrust itself into her consciousness then, as well. Something Loshak had said a few days ago. We like our pretty things. Darger wasn’t sure if she was thinking of Casey, Emily, or Fiona when she thought it.
“Feet off the sofa, please,” Lois was saying to her daughter. Her tone made it clear that this was only the ten-thousandth-or-so time she’d had to utter those words.
Emily swung around with an insolent scoff only achievable by the young.
Lois turned to them and explain
ed, “Emily’s a senior at Ohio State.”
“Mom,” Emily said, her bottom jaw jutting in playful annoyance. “It’s The Ohio State University.”
Lois rolled her eyes and whispered conspiratorially.
“I went to the University of Michigan. We didn’t obsess over definite articles there.”
“I heard that,” Emily said.
“Could I get you something to drink?” Lois asked then. Addressing Darger specifically, she added, “I made a batch of lemonade special.”
Violet heard Luck chuckle from across the room, and instantly her face felt warm. Lois was smiling at her. There was no trace of mockery in her face. She was teasing Darger, yes. But it wasn’t meant maliciously.
Still, Violet wished they would have forgotten about it. And now she was stuck as well. If she accepted the lemonade, the gag would never die. If she declined, she felt like she’d be putting Mrs. Worthington out somehow.
“Sure,” Violet said, forcing her lips into a polite smile.
“I don’t get it,” Emily said. “Why is that funny?”
“Oh, just a little joke between me and Special Agent Darger.”
“Whatever,” Emily said. She flipped her hair back and swiped at her phone. “You guys are weird.”
“Special Agent Loshak? Lemonade? Water?”
“I’m fine, but thank you,” he said.
When Mrs. Worthington departed for the kitchen, Violet could feel him watching her.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Forget it.”
He sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
“So you guys are in the FBI?” Emily asked, watching them with new interest. Darger had an idea what was coming next. She thought Loshak did, too.
“That’s right,” Loshak answered.
“So,” Emily continued, “if there were aliens, you’d know about them, right?”
Darger bit her lip to keep from grinning. She was curious how Loshak would handle it. It was a surprisingly common question, even when she’d been in Victim Assistance. As soon as she said FBI, apparently some people immediately thought X-Files.
