Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate)

by Dore, Deirdre

  31

  RYAN HUNG UP the phone with a curse, putting his head in his hands. A sick, cold feeling made him swallow repeatedly. He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point Ms. Christina Pascal had become important to him. The thought of losing her, of something happening to her, had his hands curling into involuntary fists. He had to do something.

  “Okay, everybody; we have ourselves a cluster fuck on our hands. Get everyone in here.”

  Midaugh and another agent called the various groups into the main conference room until the relatively small space was crowded with large bodies in uniforms and TAC gear.

  “Okay, we have possible surveillance of the unsub from a gas station west of Fate to analyze. We believe that the unsub may be traveling with a woman. She may or may not be willingly aiding him. We need that surveillance video analyzed. The location of where the incident occurred has already been marked on the map.” He waved a hand to indicate the pushpin showing the location. “I’d like some volunteers to sort through it and run facial recognition.” He took down the names of three officers and agents who raised their hands and assigned a leader to the group.

  “Additionally, the unsub has been in communication with the woman he calls the Creator, Ms. Christina Pascal, though our remote servers indicated that no such conversation occurred. I’ll be going to interview Ms. Pascal tonight to get the details of that conversation, but we do know that he revealed to her the GPS coordinates of what Ms. Pascal believes to be the body of a missing girl from the Atlanta area. Atlanta PD has already been informed of this information in connection to their open case. The unsub has helped Ms. Pascal with information in the past. We believe he is attempting to please or bribe her with information regarding her active investigations into missing persons. Atlanta PD will continue to run that investigation.” He tossed down his notes.

  “And finally, someone left a nearly beheaded body of a small dog in the lobby of Ms. Pascal’s building, presumably to frighten or intimidate her, but we’ll keep an open mind. Our evidence response team is on the way to collect the evidence. The Cherokee County sheriff was called in as well, so they’ll have investigators on the scene. We’ll need to analyze the evidence as soon as it comes in for any indications of who the unsub is or where he might be living.”

  He put his hands on the conference table and leaned in. “We suspect that the unsub is circling closer to the town of Fate and the focus of his particular psychosis is narrowing in on Ms. Pascal, but so far our roadblocks in and out of the town have been ineffective, largely due to the number of private and back roads that can be used to navigate to the interstate. In short, we’re closing in on this man and we need to stay focused and on point if we’re going to catch him. I need everyone working their assigned tasks and communicating effectively with the team. Agent Midaugh and I are headed out to Fate. Any questions?”

  No one had any, or at least no one spoke up.

  Midaugh, as the agent in charge, was giving him a what-the-hell? look, but he wasn’t the type to get bent out of shape because Ryan called a status meeting.

  “Okay, people,” Midaugh interceded, “let’s get to it.”

  Everyone dispersed, leaving Ryan and Midaugh alone in the conference room.

  “What’s going on, kid?” Midaugh asked.

  Ryan shook his head. “I think Chris heard from the unsub earlier today. I think she knew about the location of that body but waited hours before telling me.”

  “Why do you think she didn’t call immediately? You think she’s involved with the unsub after all?”

  “No,” Ryan concluded emphatically. “Not the way you mean. I think he offered her the one thing she can’t resist—information about a missing person. She didn’t want to tell me because she knew I’d ask her where she got the intel.”

  “Why not just call in an anonymous tip?”

  “She could have, but this way there’s immediate action. She gets what she wants, which is the girl found.”

  “So what does he get in return?”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.”

  CHAOS REIGNED IN FATE. Reporters and police from various agencies were gathered around the circle at both entrances to Chris’s building. The deputies from the county sheriff had taped off the area around both entrances. Ryan and Midaugh made their way through the crowd by flashing their badges.

  When they finally got inside, the forensic techs from the FBI were documenting the scene, but the county officers were keeping the onlookers and the reporters out.

  Ryan recognized Tavey Collins from his checks into Chris’s background. She was standing just inside the door to her grooming salon, talking to Investigator Downs, her arms crossed over her chest. He was taking notes on a small flipbook, his face set in hard, cold lines.

  “Where’s Ms. Pascal?” he asked one of the sheriff’s officers, who shrugged and pointed upstairs.

  Ryan tapped Midaugh on the shoulder. “I’ll go upstairs and talk to Chris.”

  Midaugh nodded and headed over to join Investigator Downs and Ms. Collins.

  Ryan leapt up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He stopped for a moment outside Chris’s door to get a grip on himself. He took several deep breaths, just as he’d seen her do, trying to focus on that rather than charging through the door like an enraged idiot. That’s what he was, an idiot, because he was fucking jealous—jealous—that she’d let that asshole talk to her, that she’d put her need to find the missing above her own safety.

  The door jerked open before he’d finished gathering his cool. Raquel, the cop, was standing on the other side, her expression fierce and set.

  “Get in here. She needs you.”

  Ryan nodded and came inside, preparing himself for anything, really—tears, eerie calm, nervous stretching—but Chris was perched quietly on the couch, her feet pulled up so she was sitting cross-legged, her upturned palms in her lap, serene.

  She looked at him with those gold eyes and Ryan had trouble breathing. There was a world of emotion in those eyes—guilt, regret, horror, and lust were all wrapped up in a single look. He met her gaze and felt like he’d known her forever, known she would come into his life and the focus of his world would change, shifting on its axis until he couldn’t imagine a day when he wouldn’t want her in it.

  He sat on the coffee table facing her and took her hands; they were cold and trembled slightly, but she smiled at him as if she were amused at herself, as if she were silently saying, I’m trembling, it’s ridiculous.

  He wrapped his fingers around hers, trying to share some of his warmth.

  Raquel brought a cup of green tea over for Chris, so Ryan let her hands go so she could take it. Once she did, Raquel sat down on the couch next to her.

  “I already spoke with my supervisor and Tyler about what I saw. I can tell you the same.”

  “All right.” Ryan rested his forearms on his thighs.

  “We’d gone for a jog up the hill to my neighborhood. She was quiet; I thought something was wrong, so I asked her. I thought she’d tell me you two had had a fight or something.”

  Ryan nodded, looking at Chris’s face. She was sipping her tea, still quiet, and he knew that whatever she had told Raquel, it hadn’t been everything.

  “She told me that your unsub had contacted her, giving her the coordinates of what she believes is the location of a missing girl, one we believe to have been killed by a man named Martin Hays.”

  “Did she tell you anything else?”

  Raquel hesitated, her loyalty to her friend competing with her need to tell the truth to another cop.

  “Tell him, Raquel,” Chris ordered.

  Raquel nodded. “I was shocked that she hadn’t called right away, that she’d kept it to herself for even an hour, but I get why. She wanted the girl’s body found, but without revealing who’d given her the information. She was hoping to
get more out of him, I think. We suspect that Martin Hays has kidnapped at least two girls.” Her voice trailed off briefly, growing stronger as she finished. “When we arrived back at the building, there were reporters. We hurried into the building, Chris ahead of me. She was the first to see the dog. She’s also not telling me everything, like why she has electrical tape over the webcams on her computers.”

  Ryan nodded. “All right. If it’s okay, I’d like to talk to Chris for a few minutes.”

  Raquel looked at Chris, who nodded. “I’m fine, Quelly. I’m sure Tavey could use you downstairs, especially if Tyler’s down there.”

  “All right, but I’ll be back.” She looked pointedly at Ryan, as if to warn him that if he fucked with her friend, she’d kick his ass.

  He acknowledged her look, glad Chris had such fiercely loyal friends—especially at a time like this. In his experience, women didn’t trust each other enough for that level of loyalty, or at least his ex had never trusted other women to that degree.

  As soon as the door closed behind Raquel, he sat next to Chris on the couch and dragged her into his lap.

  “Are you ever not in some kind of trouble?” he muttered, wishing she didn’t feel so soft and perfect.

  She hugged him, burrowing into his shoulder as if she wanted to use him as shelter. “Rarely.”

  “I like you anyway,” he confessed, and it was the biggest understatement of his life.

  Chris laughed. “I like you, too.”

  32

  CHRIS SNUGGLED AGAINST RYAN, enjoying the feel of his strong shoulders, the smell of him, which always reminded her of the woods after it rained. She knew he was furious with her, knew he was aware that she was keeping something from him.

  “Tell me what happened,” he ordered.

  Chris settled against him, telling the story as Summer had taught her, with slow emphasis, letting the rhythm come naturally. “I found a file with Summer’s name on it. He’d put a video inside, one showing Martin Hays hurting those girls.” She paused because he’d squeezed her tightly, involuntarily, and she knew he was unhappy that she’d seen those images. Shit, she was unhappy she’d seen those images.

  “I watched it, was about to call you, when an instant message popped up on my computer. He was watching me, through my computers. He knew the FBI had already been here, said he’d done something to keep you from seeing our communication.”

  Ryan didn’t say anything, but his body had tensed. She continued as if she didn’t notice, keeping the soft cadence. “He said he wanted me to give him my strings, that he wouldn’t kill me. His next message explained that the video he’d shown me had already been deleted, but then he sent me the GPS coordinates. I think it’s the location of one of the girls’ body.”

  “Why would he send that to you? Why bother to send anything?”

  Chris’s fingers dug into his shoulders briefly. She didn’t want to lie to him, didn’t want to tell him what the unsub had wanted. She wasn’t about to meet him by herself, but she didn’t think that Ryan or the Feds would even consider letting her meet him, would even give her the chance to lure this asshole out of hiding if she told them what she planned.

  So she told the truth with a lie. “I think he’s courting me, trying to convince me to join him somehow.”

  “So his gift is a dead dog and the location of a missing girl?”

  Chris pressed her lips together; she’d managed to forget the dog for the moment. “You should check the dog for a chip. He looks like Martha Cooper’s dog, Badger.”

  Chris was certain that it was Badger, he looked just like his pictures on Facebook, but she wasn’t entirely certain that the unsub had left him on her doorstep. The body had been carefully arranged; she’d gotten a sense of sorrow, of a loss so deep it had left a scar in the fabric of the world. She was going as crazy as the Triplets.

  “We think she may be working with him,” Ryan admitted.

  “Not willingly,” Chris argued.

  Ryan didn’t seem to want to talk about Martha Cooper. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything about the unsub?”

  “Ryan, I trust you with my life. I would tell you anything.” Which wasn’t an answer, not really.

  “That’s not a straight answer,” he muttered. Smart man.

  “He didn’t say anything else.” Truth. The unsub had demanded that she meet with him, show him where the string-makers lived, but he hadn’t said a damn thing.

  “Okay.” He squeezed her again. “I’m going downstairs to check on the progress.”

  He set her off his lap and stood, looking down at her. She reached out and took his hand. “You can feel it, can’t you?” She smiled wryly. “All the threads of the investigation coming together?” She stopped there because she didn’t want to keep talking. If she kept talking, she would look in his eyes and tell him the truth, because he deserved it, because he liked her. He’d said so.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “We’re close. He’s close. I think we’re going to start canvassing the town, looking for anything suspicious. Someone has to have seen something. We’ll print out flyers of Martha. Once we get the analysis back on the surveillance video, we should know more.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He touched her cheek. “You want me to send Raquel back up here?”

  “No.” Chris shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll have to give an official statement. I’ll send someone up.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, and then, before she realized what he was about to do, he bent down and kissed her, tilting her chin up so he could more easily access her mouth, and plundered, putting all his frustration and fear and desire into a hard, rough kiss that left her gasping, wishing there wasn’t a killer and her big fat lie standing in the way of throwing herself into his arms.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised.

  Chris listened for the sound of the door closing behind him and stood, walking to her window and looking down at the circle, at the crowds of people that had gathered.

  She knew that the FBI agents would be taking photographs of the crowd, looking for a too-interested face, and soon she’d help them with that. Come hell or high water, she was going to make sure this bastard couldn’t stay in hiding for much longer.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, when one of the FBI agents knocked on her door to take her formal statement, Chris had already prepared a backpack with hiking equipment, snacks, and water. She’d also packed her camera, four cell phones (all disposable), and a signal booster. She’d hidden everything in her linen closet. She’d also called a hacker friend and asked him to make a call around six the next morning telling the Feds that he’d seen a white van—she was going to need a distraction.

  When the agent, a woman who looked young enough to be a teenager, came to take her statement, Chris was once again sitting calmly on the couch, green tea in hand. Efficient and to the point, the agent took her information quickly, but didn’t skip anything, asking several questions about what exactly the unsub had written.

  Chris explained, and when she mentioned the way he’d been watching her through the computer cameras, the agent went to see for herself.

  “Have you communicated with him at all since this afternoon?”

  Chris shook her head. “No. I went for a run and found the dog. Everything after that has been crazy.”

  “Okay. I’ll take this downstairs. Special Agent Helmer mentioned he was coming back to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Until then, I recommend you avoid your computers.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Chris changed into jeans, a soft cashmere sweater, and her UGGs, and sat to wait for Ryan to return. After thirty minutes she was bored, so she headed downstairs.

  When she reached the landing to her apartment, she heard voices, and unconsciously slowed down, listening. One
of the voices was Ryan’s; the other was Raquel’s.

  “Tavey’s bringing her dogs to the GPS coordinates. We’ll find out within a few hours if he really did give her the location of the body.”

  “Okay. We’re analyzing the remains of the dog. You said she mentioned saying that the dog looked like the one that belonged to Martha Cooper.”

  “She did. She thought it was Martha’s.”

  “Any idea how she knows what Martha’s dog looks like?”

  “A wild guess? She trolled through the woman’s Facebook page. Chris has a way of friending people.”

  “Okay. We can’t do much until we have the results. We questioned everyone in the circle and the surrounding buildings, but not everyone was home. There were several apartment buildings that seemed to house students and other temporary residents, so it’s difficult to gauge newcomers.”

  “Fate is a small town with a transitory population. It’s also remote, strange, and secretive at the same time.”

  “Okay. I’m staying with Chris tonight. Based on what we’ve seen here today and on what she indicated he communicated to her, I’m inclined to believe she’s his next target.”

  Raquel didn’t say anything, but Chris could imagine her face. She’d be giving him her one-eyebrow-up, uh-huh look.

  Chris simply nodded in satisfaction. She wanted him. She hated that he was going to feel betrayed by what she did tomorrow, but she knew she had to do it. Ryan felt guilty for the deaths of the girls on that previous case; he would understand why she’d done what she did, she just didn’t know if he would want her after she betrayed his trust.

  She couldn’t let the families that loved those girls continue to wonder. God knew she wished she had an idea what had happened to Summer. Even if Summer was dead, she at least wanted to know, yearned for some sort of closure. Not knowing was torture. If there was a chance she could find even one of these missing girls from this asshole, she would take it, because maybe one day it would be Summer that she found.