by Robin Mahle
“How’d it go?” He gently removed her coat and placed it on the hook attached to the wall.
“It’s done. Over.” He had expressed a desire to be there for her today, but she had refused. Katie walked toward the kitchen and inhaled deeply. The apartment smelled of pasta and garlic and offered solace. “You made dinner?” She cocked her head and unveiled a smile masked in genuine surprise as she turned back to him. “Thank you.”
Marshall wouldn’t press her, as he knew she would talk when she chose to do so. Instead, he dished up their dinner, poured a generous glass of wine for each of them, and they simply enjoyed each other’s company for a rare few hours. Uninterrupted by calls, texts, or emails, they shut out the world around them. They finished the night intertwined in the warmth of each other’s bodies, remembering the love they had for one another. Whatever prospects the future held for them could wait.
The vibrating cell phone sounded in her dream like a swarm of bees diving straight for her. When the noise erupted again, her conscious mind was awakened enough to bring her out of her sleep.
Katie lifted her head, still heavy and foggy. The light from her phone stinging her eyes, she squinted to see the screen more clearly. Marc. She noticed the early hour and wondered if something must be wrong. They didn’t speak all that often, let alone at this early morning hour that masqueraded as night. She pressed the silent button so as not to wake up Marshall.
The stone tiled floor felt icy on her bare feet as she stepped out of the bed. A quick glance to Marshall. Still asleep. Katie shuffled toward the door, the call having already gone to voicemail. She reached for her robe and wrapped it around her chilled body.
On approach to the second bedroom that served as an office, Katie slipped inside and closed the door. A small lamp on the corner of the desk illuminated when she pressed the button at the base. Her eyes still hadn’t quite adjusted and she turned away from its harsh light.
The sun was working its way up in the west, shining a dull, pale light through the slats in the window blinds. Katie sat down in the chair behind the desk and began to listen to the voicemail.
She rubbed her eyes and listened to Marc speak of the “Highway Hunter.” It seemed he’d found himself another victim. This time in Hudson, Colorado, northeast of Denver. Katie had never heard of the place, but Marc relayed his discomfort at the nearing proximity to California.
The idea that he simply wanted to capitalize on the story entered Katie’s mind. It wasn’t really Marc’s style, but she couldn’t quite work out his intense interest. It didn’t seem likely the Highway Hunter would happen upon them.
Agent Scarborough had made it clear he didn’t have any useful information, or if he did, wasn’t inclined to share it. She knew how these things went down. The FBI didn’t let on more than they had to. Still, she would return Marc’s call out of respect and friendship, but remind him that it was far too early an hour to rouse her from sleep and set herself to feelings of anxiety over the message.
“It’s me. I just got your voicemail.” Her tone was gruff, not out of anger, but because she hadn’t yet soothed her throat with the warm, welcoming taste of coffee that signaled the official start of her day.
“I’m sorry to have called so early, Katie. It’s just that I’ve got a real bad feeling about this. They found another victim yesterday, only this morning issuing a press release that it was a suspected victim of the Highway Hunter.”
“Marc, I already told you…”
He abruptly cut her off. “I know, I know. Scarborough doesn’t know anything. But, Katie, you gotta talk to him again. This psycho’s moving west and we need to get a handle on the situation.”
“What are you planning to do, Marc? Warn everyone in San Diego to lock their doors and don’t pick up any hitchhikers? Most people already know that. Hell, they stand a better chance of getting killed on our streets by gang members than getting picked off by some hitchhiking killer.” Her severe tone wasn’t intentional, but she was beginning to feel frustrated and it was much too early. “I’m sorry. Look, I know you want the scoop on this, but I’m telling you, Agent Scarborough is being tight-lipped about all of it and probably for good reason.”
Marc was quiet on the other end of the line. “You’re right, Katie. I shouldn’t have called you so early. There’s nothing you can do. I understand that.”
Katie’s head fell and rested against the back of the chair. Marc knew her well enough to know what buttons to push and it seemed he’d pushed the right one. Telling her she could do nothing, that her hands were tied, was a great way to piss her off. “Fine. I’ll call him again. But I can’t promise you anything.”
“That’s all I ask. I swear I’ll drop it if he says no again.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Can I go now? I need some coffee.”
“Thanks, Katie. It means a lot to me. I’ll talk to you later.”
She ended the call without another word and shook her head. On the one hand, Katie appreciated that Marc believed her to have some sort of influence. But on the other, her work with the department kept her busy, not to mention school, and so to begin to get involved in something she had no business being involved in wasn’t a proposition she wanted to explore, intriguing though it may be. Unfortunately, she would be required to keep her word and once again call on Agent Scarborough to ask for any insight he might have. Marc wasn’t the type to accept no for an answer.
Resigned to the fact that she was now completely awake, Katie padded softly to the kitchen and put on the coffee. A quick glance at the clock on the bookshelf and she noticed that it wouldn’t be long before Marshall would be up. She also took notice of the now vacant spot on the shelf above where a picture once stood, remembering that it had been shattered into several pieces on the ground. Katie cast her eyes down, regretting her intense reaction.
She wondered, though, if Marshall would really be accepting of the fact that having children would be no easy task, if it happened at all for them. Then there was the flip side of it. The thought of the Markham case, of the young girl who found the courage along with the opportunity to seek help and escape her captor came to mind and so did the child who didn’t survive.
Katie’s work showed her the evil inherent in this world and especially the sort that took the most innocent as its victims. She was beginning to believe the risk of bringing a child into the world in which she had now become entirely too familiar was too great. She’d seen pain in the eyes of parents, devastating pain that she herself would likely be unable to bear if she was in the same situation. So, perhaps it was for the best. For her, at least. Marshall might yet find difficulty in accepting such a fate.
With a hot cup of coffee in hand, Katie returned to the den and put herself to task. Getting a jump on the day would be the only benefit to having risen so early. Too early to call Scarborough just yet, although she suspected he would not be sleeping much these days.
The laptop hummed and began to wake from its sleep. Katie sipped her coffee and turned toward the window. The sun was now exposed just over the horizon and she opened the blinds a little to bring in the natural light. Her caseload seemed to be winding down, but that never lasted for long. In a city the size of San Diego, it would only be a matter of days before the next case file would be tossed on her desk, or she would find herself on another crime scene. She didn’t work with Marshall on every one of his cases and that was preferable. They had three different tech teams that rotated with each of the different units.
Katie punched in her password and the emails began filling her inbox. It seemed that she would have reason to call Agent Scarborough after all. He’d sent her an email late last night, already in Colorado and mentioning the need to speak to her. She set her coffee down on the desk and reached for her cell phone.
“Good morning, hon.” Marshall was standing outside the door, his robe opened, revealing his boxers. “You’re up before me? That can’t be good.” He started in toward her.
“Good morning.”
Katie rose from the chair and moved to greet him. The call would have to wait. It would be a challenge explaining to Marshall why he had contacted her. Of course he already knew about the initial conversation and seemed unmoved, but this particular email suggested further involvement; to what extent, she didn’t yet know and until she did, it would have wait to be discussed further with Marshall.
“I’ve already got the coffee on. How about some breakfast?”
6
IT HAD BEEN almost a week since the Kentucky murder and it seemed this latest victim, a woman in her thirties outside of Denver, was also a casualty of the man of which Scarborough was growing increasingly wary. His style was erratic, his movements too unpredictable, but Nick had no doubt of the connection.
The victim was a professional woman with manicured nails and hair color not of the bottle-type variety, her makeup elegantly understated. Even in the condition in which they found her, naked and marred by her attacker, she was different from the others.
That was why Nick and his team had arrived on the red-eye last night when he got the call from local authorities. Some of the staff were still on scene, but the victim had already been transported to the local morgue and was awaiting autopsy. This was, of course, standard procedure, but Nick didn’t need the results. He knew it was his guy. What he didn’t know was the significance of the dandelions or the carving. What the hell did a dandelion have to do with any of this?
Nick wasn’t a profiler, but the woman who had been assigned to work with him had been assessing the information. As of now, she had a few theories, nothing concrete. She needed more time, but time was a precious commodity in these situations. He had a string of murders that was growing and a supervisor hungry for answers. Not to mention a ravenous media for which he had little tolerance and despised the notoriety they had already given the killer.
It was approaching eight a.m. and Nick wondered if Katie had read his email yet. She was an hour behind, but he figured her for an early riser. He didn’t know why for certain he had asked if she wanted to help. His team was extremely qualified and he didn’t lack for resources. But when he spoke to her the other day, that idea she had triggered in him more than a year ago, that she could quite possibly be an excellent federal agent, still lingered in his mind.
She’d gone after a killer. She’d gone after him and found him as if it was in her nature to do so. And she’d accomplished it with exquisite resolve. Maybe it was because he’d been up nearly all night, only catching a few zzz’s on the plane, but he wanted her input and her unique insight. Katie had been in the belly of the beast and fought her way out. Maybe that was what he needed now.
Time was ticking away. It was urgent that he get to the morgue and talk to the coroner, then head back out to the scene.
Nick placed his cupped hands beneath the faucet and threw water onto his face. His wet hands pushing through his hair, working to tame it. The blue oxford shirt hung haphazardly in the closet of his hotel room. It was in desperate need of a press, but there was no time. He slipped on the shirt, fingers fastening the buttons. The single-breasted jacket lay across the desk chair and he pulled it on. After one last glance at his cell phone, he pocketed it and left his room of the hotel.
Ready to leave for work, Katie approached Marshall as he brushed his teeth in the small bathroom adjacent to their bedroom. She looked at his reflection and unveiled a smile. “I’m heading out now. Don’t forget I’ve got a class tonight, so I’ll be late. Call you later?”
Marshall nodded, a white foamy smile crossing his lips.
Katie stepped out onto the landing of their apartment, the noise of downtown filling her ears. It was seven a.m. and the cold air settled on her skin. The short walk to the parking garage meant she would have to brave the crisp fall morning, forgoing the jacket tossed over her forearm.
Upon sighting her car, nestled between a Mercedes and an Audi, she pressed the remote to unlock it. Her small SUV paled in comparison to the much more expensive vehicles flanking either side of her. This building was home to many wealthy individuals who had purchased their units when the market was at its peak. She had to snicker a little. The mortgage on their two-bedroom was likely a paltry figure compared to what these people faced.
Pulling out onto E Street, Katie contemplated making the call to Scarborough. She thought a private conversation would be in order in this particular case. Katie was housed in a cubicle at work where ears listened intently and with great interest. She was not immune to the hushed conversations that still sometimes occurred at the proverbial water cooler. Although most of the people she worked with empathized with her past, others remained envious of her position and the fact that she had attained it so quickly. So, eavesdropping on a conversation with the FBI on what had become an increasingly noteworthy case wasn’t an option for Katie. It would quite possibly be used against her by those who pressed on others as rungs on a ladder.
Katie made the call.
After more than a few rings, a voice found its way through. “Agent Scarborough.”
“Nick, it’s me, Katie. I got your email this morning…”
But before she could continue, he spoke. “Thanks for calling, Katie, but listen; now’s not a good time. I’m in Colorado and heading to the coroner’s office. I’ll keep this brief. If you’re interested, I’d like to send you some information on the case. Just to get a fresh pair of eyes on it. It’ll have to be off the record, you understand?”
“Yeah. Okay. I’d be happy to see what you’ve got. But Nick, why me?”
“You know why, Katie. My intuition hasn’t failed me yet and it’s telling me you could be a vital part of this investigation, but no one can know about it. Not yet anyway. As much as my ASAC likes you, he wouldn’t appreciate me going to you with this. But, I just got a feeling.”
“Okay, well, I was going to ask you if I could relay any information to Aguilar.”
“Can’t talk about that now, Katie. Gotta run. But, for now, let’s just keep this between you and me. I’ll send you what I’ve got later and I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.” Katie was unsure of how else to respond. He’d mentioned in his email that he wanted to run a few questions by her, but taking a look at his files? That seemed way outside her wheelhouse, but before she could inquire further, Nick had disconnected the call.
“Okay. Guess I’ll talk to you later then.”
A knock on Edward’s door at this early hour couldn’t be good. He shuffled toward the front room and pulled on a pair of shorts that had been tossed on the couch.
He peered through the peephole where two uniformed officers stood. One was standing as if at attention. The other appeared more relaxed. Edward assumed he was the senior partner, but what eluded him was the reason for their presence.
“Edward Shalot? This is San Diego County Sheriff’s office.” The officer knocked on the door again.
“Shit,” he whispered and began unlocking the deadbolt. An immediate surge of adrenaline made its way through him, sending him a little shaky. “Good morning, officers. What can I do for you?” Edward fixed on his most charming smile, which he had called on in many different scenarios, mostly involving women. Whether it would work in this particular situation remained to be seen.
The junior officer looked to his mentor, dispensing with any thought that he was the one in charge.
“Mr. Shalot, I’m Deputy Jackson and this is Deputy McGuire.” The man held out an envelope. “We had a Lindsay Brown come in with her attorney yesterday afternoon. It seems you and Ms. Brown had an incident the other night?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Lindsay and I had a date and, at the end of the date, we had a minor argument and she left. Nothing else happened, sir.” Edward felt a rise of panic in his stomach.
“Mr. Shalot, this is a Temporary Civil Harassment Restraining Order filed on behalf of Ms. Brown. This will remain in effect for not less than three weeks, at which time Ms. Brown will be notified by a judg
e as to the permanent status of the restraining order. Mr. Shalot, you are not to contact Ms. Brown in any way, including email or texting, nor go to her home or place of business. You will be served with the permanent restraining order once it has been approved by the judge.” Deputy Jackson handed Edward the envelope.
“I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything. That stupid bitch. This is going to be on my record now.”
The deputies already began to turn away, but stopped short when Edward continued to run his mouth.
“I’m sorry?” Deputy Jackson laid a hand on the butt of his holstered gun. “Are we going to have a problem here, Mr. Shalot?”
Edward tossed a glance at the gun. “No, sir. I’m just—surprised; that’s all. Have a good day.” He closed the door and thumped his head on the back of it, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“A restraining order. A fucking restraining order.” Heat began to rise in his cheeks. Edward couldn’t let this bitch ruin everything. If she was capable of this, he wondered what else she might do.
The only hope he had of making this thing go away would be for him to try and make amends first. Withdrawing the order wasn’t possible, but at least when it got to court, she could make a statement and try to convince the judge to cancel the order.
“I have to see her.”
It was a risky proposition to say the least, but Edward believed his charms could hold sway over her. Lindsay was a young and naïve girl. Showering her with a little affection and maybe some flowers and all would be forgiven. The belief that he held such power over women had been confirmed by previous efforts and he felt he could draw on those experiences to get him out of this situation as well.
Edward couldn’t risk Katie finding out about any of this. Chances that the two of them, Lindsay and Katie, would cross each other’s paths were slim, but if she caught wind from the law enforcement pipeline or from another student in their class and decided to look it up, his story would unravel in a hurry. This would have to be nipped in the bud. Today.
