The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4)

by Hill, Casey

  He hadn’t gotten much sleep though, his conversation with Reilly running round and round in his head. Finally, he’d given up and called Bradley from the car and met his superior at the lab before anyone else arrived. An empty bottle of energy drink sat next to his computer.

  ‘You do know the DA’s going to have our asses if they find out where this information came from,’ Bradley said as he sat down. He held up a hand when Todd opened his mouth to speak. ‘I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been throwing your dad’s office a bone or two to help with his own investigation.’

  Todd exhaled. He knew where Bradley was coming from and normally he never wanted to be the one to bring in extra help, insisting that they could handle it themselves, but this was different. This was Holly. He was always just going to do what needed to be done.

  He was also relieved in a way, too. The confirmation of the existence of a serial killer with such a gruesome and distinctive MO meant that it was a dead cert the department would be calling on the services of their on-call criminal profiler. Which meant that his dad’s office would soon be cleared to work with them, there would be more eyes and ears on the case and Todd wouldn’t have to worry about breaking protocol.

  If everything his father always said about ‘Saint’ Reilly was true, there was a good chance she could be a godsend on this case. A part of him knew he’d been unfair to her the other night with that crack about her being his dad’s favorite. It was stupid and he’d been a little bit drunk, but the truth was he envied the unconditional respect and affection Daniel had always had for Reilly Steel right back from their academy days.

  Still, that wasn’t Reilly’s fault, and the fact was she’d been nothing but helpful since her arrival. Finding those video clips was a major breakthrough, no matter how horrifying and upsetting . . . Todd’s stomach clenched afresh. He looked at his partner.

  ‘About the videos . . .’

  ‘Already thinking about it.’ Bradley was reaching for the phone. ‘I’m going to call Detective Reed to update him – and then get the Cyber Crimes Unit to try and trace the clips’ origin. I’m sure Peni will be thrilled.’

  ‘Is there any way . . .’ Todd wasn’t quite sure how to ask the question. ‘Do you think it would be at all possible to get the murder clips taken down? It’s just, knowing that there are people watching . . .’

  ‘Let me talk to Peni and I’ll see what she says,’ his colleague assured him. ‘Don’t worry; this guy’s got no chance of getting an Academy Award.’

  The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. He had to focus.

  He wasn’t entirely sure he could orchestrate the complex scenario he wanted to try next. He had total faith in his own abilities, but there were some drawbacks to only using practical devices. While simplistic enough in theory, the execution – pun only partially intended – was going to be more difficult. And, as anyone in his line of work knew, there was only one solution to mastering a difficult prospect.

  Practice, practice and more practice.

  He’d found the latest girl wandering around downtown, looking for all the world like the dumb blond he needed.

  Once he’d told her what he did for a living, again it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to go for a drink with him. Slipping the clear liquid he’d purchased back home into her cup had been almost too easy. Figuring out how to get her to stay standing had been a bit more difficult. He’d finally had to tip the mattress at enough of an angle that it was more or less propping her up.

  It had made tying her hands a bitch, but he’d finally managed.

  Her eyes were just starting to flutter open when he lifted his bow.

  Archery had made such a big comeback over the last few years that he couldn’t resist at least trying to recreate one of the many death-by-arrow sequences he’d seen.

  Problem was, he hadn’t shot a bow since summer camp when he was twelve. He could’ve practiced with a paper target, he supposed, or even a corpse, but he had to take into account that a live target was going to squirm.

  He nocked the arrow and drew back, a familiar feeling of excitement coiling in his belly at the sight of the young woman’s widening eyes, at the fear on her face. He held the position as he spoke to her.

  ‘I’m going to try to make this as quick as possible,’ he explained. ‘Though I do apologize if it takes me a few tries. I’m a bit rusty.’

  The string stung his wrist as he released the first arrow. It embedded itself in the mattress with a muffled thump. A thin trickle of urine rolled down the inside of the girl’s leg, mimicking the tears coursing down her cheeks.

  ‘Hmm,’ he murmured, then adjusted his stance and picked up his second arrow. He sighted more carefully this time before letting it fly, then cursed as the string stung him again.

  A meaty thwack and a spurt of blood accompanied the muted scream. The cords on the young woman’s neck stood out as she screamed into her gag. Her face was red and she tugged at the ropes keeping her in place. Although, he guessed that wasn’t entirely true. Technically, the arrow in her stomach was now keeping her in place.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, critiquing his own work. Second shot and he’d only missed by a few inches. He’d been aiming for her heart, of course.

  He’d save the eye for last. The arrow he’d shot quivered as the girl thrashed, but it had lodged deeply in her torso, just a bit above and to the right of her bellybutton. He was pretty sure there were some vital organs there. She wouldn’t last much longer. He needed to hurry if he wanted her to still be alive when he tried to put a shaft through her eye.

  He reached for another arrow.

  Third time’s a charm.

  CHAPTER 16

  Things started to move very quickly into gear once the investigative team learned about the movie clips, and that it looked like they had a serial killer on their hands.

  As anticipated, the department chief Captain Harvell formally sought Daniel’s assistance with the case and requested an immediate profile. Conveniently ignoring (or perhaps unaware of) the fact that the investigative team had already been offered one.

  ‘So I talked to Reed and Sampson about getting the footage off the internet,’ Bradley told Todd, following the interdepartmental briefing to discuss next steps. ‘They’re going to see what they can do but . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  Todd knew what the investigator was going to say. Still, he waited to hear it firsthand, anger bubbling up inside him.

  ‘Todd, to be fair, we’re all stretched to the limit with this new information. Julie said she’d talk to the DA about getting a warrant to pull the videos, but the investigation will naturally take priority . . .’

  ‘So anyone can still go online and watch Holly die?’ Todd knew he was getting close to crossing the line, but he didn’t care. This was wrong. And while he used her name, it wasn’t just about Holly. It was about the family and friends of all of the victims so far.

  ‘She said she was going to do what she could,’ Bradley repeated.

  ‘Bullshit.’ Todd slammed his hands down on the table. ‘An hour, maybe two, that’s all it would take. But because Holly and Aaron and that poor kid in the bathtub aren’t rich and famous like that screenwriter, they don’t matter. And no one seems to care that once this hits the news, these families are never going to have a moment of peace. Could you imagine knowing that, with just a few keystrokes, you could be face to face with the brutal death of your child, your friend, as it happened?’ Todd’s voice cracked. ‘And those assholes won’t take the time out of their busy day to do their fucking job.’

  ‘Todd,’ Bradley said; his voice held a warning note.

  ‘I can do it,’ Peni said easily. Both men turned to look at the computer expert. She shrugged. ‘I already have to be inside the site code to see what I can trace. While I’m in there, it wouldn’t be too difficult to kill the links.’

  ‘Seriously, you can just delete stuff from inside?’ Bradley asked.

&n
bsp; She winked at him. ‘Yup. Any site at all. Been there, done that. Parking tickets can be a bitch.’

  ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,’ Bradley replied, though there was a smile in his voice. ‘And I will also pretend to be surprised if those videos miraculously disappear.’

  When Reilly and Daniel pulled into the Tampa Police Department parking lot that morning, it was already full despite the fact that the sun was only just now starting to peek over the horizon.

  Apparently, they were calling everyone in.

  Captain Harvell, a gruff-sounding man in his mid-fifties with thinning hair, greeted them at reception. ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice, Dr Forrest.’

  ‘Happy to help.’ Introductions were made and, ever the gentleman, Daniel held the door open for Reilly as they followed the captain through to the briefing room.

  ‘I’ve got the full investigative team together so you can outline the more salient points of your profile and how it holds up against the new information,’ the captain told them. ‘It doesn’t have to be long. Just anything our people can keep in mind as they’re talking to witnesses, potential suspects, and putting together evidence.’

  Going into the briefing room, Reilly looked around and among those gathered inside she recognized Detective Mark Reed, Todd’s partner Bradley and, of course, Todd himself.

  None of the investigative team looked particularly happy, though she really couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t too cheered about being up this early in the morning either and she knew from how experience how much detectives hated behavioral specialists telling them how to do their job. She smiled fondly, thinking of Detective Pete Delaney in Dublin and his open animosity toward the behaviorist the Irish police usually parachuted in, Reuben Knight.

  Captain Harvell began making introductions. ‘I’m sure most of you already know Dr Forrest from his previous work with the department. This is his associate Reilly Steel, former San Francisco field office and on leave of absence from her current post in Ireland, I understand?’

  ‘From Dublin, yes.’ Reilly smiled tightly, hating to be the center of attention. She hadn’t wanted to come along but Daniel had insisted, given she was the one who’d made the breakthrough in finding the video footage and discovered the killer’s MO.

  ‘Based on Dr Forrest’s initial profile of our unsub, and his supplementary private investigation on behalf of Holly Young’s family, I’ve asked that he outline some salient points for you to keep in mind throughout the course of this murder investigation. Please give Dr Forrest and Ms Steel your undivided attention.’

  The captain stepped back and Daniel began to speak, his soft dulcet tones as always commanding attention seemingly without trying.

  ‘Let’s talk about what we know so far. Analysis of the recent crime scenes shows that we need to separate the intentional from the unintentional deaths when trying to understand the motivation and mindset of our killer.

  ‘When looking at the timeline, the unsub killed the couple on the beach with chloroform and a rock, then partially hid the bodies. He then took Aaron Overton and Holly Young from the same section of beach. Halfway to the location where he would set them up to die, he was stopped by Officer Carlos Sanchez. After killing the officer, he moved on, setting up the scene the police found after he called it in. Cameras have been found at this and a subsequent scene,’ Daniel’s voice grew stronger, more confident, as he spoke.

  ‘This suggests that the killer is meticulous when it comes to the intentional deaths. He had every detail in place for each kill scene. The first three were out of necessity for him. The others were all part of what he considers his “art”. He is ruthless, shows no remorse for his actions, even though he understands that murder is wrong. He just believes that the ends justify the means. Bold and willing to take risks to get what he wants, he most likely has an obsessive personality and, once he gets an idea in his head, he has to act on it. He’s a narcissist and a perfectionist with a dramatic, creative flair.’

  ‘What’s the best way to spot these personality traits?’ one of the officers asked.

  Reilly noticed Daniel indicate that she should answer that. She fixed her eyes above the heads of the detectives. When she was in college, she’d nearly panicked when she’d found that she had to take a public speaking course. Only by learning to avoid eye contact and find a fixed point above the audience’s head was she able to get through it. She called on those techniques now as the familiar butterflies threatened to flutter around in her stomach.

  ‘If, for example, you’ve interrupted something that he’s doing, he’s going to be agitated, unable to focus until he gets it done,’ she replied. ‘But the easiest thing to do is to get him talking about himself. If you suggest that he’s not good enough or smart enough to have committed the murders, he may slip up because he wants to prove how great he is.’

  The captain turned to Daniel. ‘Thank you again, Dr Forrest. You too, Ms Steel.’

  ‘No problem,’ Reilly replied, shaking his hand.

  ‘Here’s hoping we’ll catch up with the son of a bitch very soon.’ Captain Harvell walked with Reilly back to the doors. ‘Thank you again. You two have a good day.’

  As they headed back to Daniel’s car, Reilly couldn’t help but think that the captain’s sentiment, while well meant, was somewhat misplaced.

  While monsters like the one they were chasing roamed the streets, how was it possible for anyone who knew about it to have a good day?

  CHAPTER 17

  Later that morning, Todd waded through the sea of humanity filling the lobby of the Millennium Hotel in downtown Tampa.

  A man in a suit waved him over. Detective Mark Reed’s salt-and-pepper hair was cropped short, almost military style, and his eyes were the color of faded jeans. He didn’t stop for pleasantries. ‘Crime scene’s this way.’ He led Todd behind a partition and through a metal door.

  Todd blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the lunchtime sun streaming directly into the alley. His nose twitched. Cat piss. Why was it every alley in the world smelled like garbage and cat piss? And the heat wasn’t helping.

  He cursed Bradley once again for sending him here of all places. A report had been filed earlier about a patch of blood found in the alleyway. As this happened to be the same hotel in which the missing screenwriter was staying, the department called the CSI unit to check it out.

  Todd was already pissed enough that the guy was taking resources away from Holly’s murder, but he had his orders. Though he’d brought along one of the interns to do most of the dirty work.

  As he surveyed the scene, he tried to get his conscious mind to switch off and put his brain into work-mode. The heat of the sun crept higher in the sky, but none of it mattered. Everything faded away. The background noise. The people around him. The young woman currently yelling at Detective Reed. All he saw, heard, smelled, everything was compartmentalized and analyzed. Anything out of place was a potential clue.

  Something reflecting the sun’s light caught Todd’s eye and he crouched down. He reached into his kitbag and took out a pair of tweezers to lift the item from the alley debris. He held it up, not entirely sure what he was looking at. Smooth on one side, and jagged on the other, it wasn’t like any of the other gravel around it. A pale orange color, it glinted in the sunlight. It might end up being nothing, but Todd wasn’t going to take the chance on missing anything. Especially when finding this screenwriter guy seemed to be such a fucking priority. He slipped the find into a pre-marked bag and continued on.

  By the time he reached the blood spatter, his intern had finished photographing the scene and was taking samples of the blood. Todd crouched beside her, the muscles in his legs protesting the awkward position. The rich coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils. Underneath it, the stench from alley dumpsters in the Florida heat, and the faint aroma of sweat.

  ‘Not a whole lot of blood,’ he commented to Reed, who’d come up alongside him.

  ‘But no
footprints or tracking, so it doesn’t look like it’s from a fight,’ the detective replied.

  Todd’s eyes flicked up to the nearby wall. ‘Nothing on the wall, so probably not a hit to the face. Maybe the perp threatened your writer guy with a knife and nicked him when he didn’t move fast enough?’

  Reed seemed unimpressed by Todd’s assessment. ‘Find anything helpful?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ He turned his attention back to the crime scene. ‘It looks like most people use the alley as an ash tray. I doubt any of the butts I collected are going to have perp DNA. Most of the footprints stop just outside the door, where there’s still some shade, so I’m guessing that’s where most of the smokers stand. I only counted a few out here.’ Todd indicated the more open area of the alley. ‘I’m betting some of those are going to belong to your missing writer. If we’re lucky, one of the others will match the perp. Unless he wore gloves, in which case we’re back to square one.’

  Todd straightened, noticing some background noise. He glanced over his shoulder as a particularly long string of expletives was directed toward the officers at the tape.

  The culprit was a young brunette, pretty enough to be one of the many aspiring actresses hanging around, hoping to be talent-spotted. So much for Hollywood glamor. If anything, the place stank of desperation with so many wannabe locals about, pleading to be discovered and propelled to stardom. As if.

  But he wondered what was making this particular girl so agitated.

  ‘Sheldon’s daughter,’ the detective informed him. ‘The screenwriter. She’s been all over our asses since the guy went awol.’

  This surprised Todd a little. He wasn’t a movie fan and thus had never heard of Drew Sheldon, but for some reason he hadn’t pictured the guy as old enough to have a daughter, never mind bring her along to a festival with him. Maybe there was more to his disappearance than met the eye?