Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  He took out his phone to snap photos of the area. He removed his journal from his backpack, flipped pages to refer to his entries from last spring…again. The blonde’s name was Chanin Crowley, and she was twenty-five years old. She had a yappy little dog he’d have to deal with but he smiled because he realized it would be worth it. Chanin had a toned body and a fondness for plastic surgery. He remembered now that Chanin’s lips had been filled with injectable facial filler. According to the receipts he’d found on her desk, she’d also paid for liposuction on her hips and thighs. Her breasts had been augmented to a nice, round, luscious C-cup. She’d enhanced those the previous December, a little Christmas present to herself after a messy divorce.

  Before midnight, Frank resolved to make it his mission to see for himself if the surgeon had done a decent enough job on both.

  By the end of October, there had been two more women found brutally slain, bringing the man’s grand total, that they knew of anyway, up to double digits.

  Single mom Janie Holliman had been the only woman lucky enough to escape from the man’s clutches.

  Their killer didn’t seem to be deterred by state-of-the-art security or new locks. He didn’t seem to care if his target had kids in the home, owned dogs, or lived outside the Seattle area. If he felt like the cops were getting close, if he felt their stakeouts might pay off, he simply moved on to another locale.

  With each homicide, their killer’s rage ramped up.

  For his last known victim, an attractive blonde, he’d travelled to Snohomish, where he’d slit the woman’s throat before cutting out her breast implants.

  Josh had seen it all go down. Chanin Crowley’s vicious murder was only one reason his sleepless nights had come back twofold. After the most recent string of homicides, sharp, intense images punched their way into his psyche to stay with him long after he crawled out of bed. The violent outbursts brought him into the chamber of horrors to witness vicious brutality, the like of which he’d never known. Brutality that made him realize this particular madman had a screw loose. How could one human being do that to another? he wondered. When the grisly pictures became almost unbearable, when they wouldn’t let up, he had Skye there beside him to walk him through the depth of what he’d seen and the anxiety he felt afterward.

  How in the world a thirteen-year-old had been able to handle such vivid savagery at such a young age without going nuts was a mystery to Josh. And it just showed, yet again, what a strong person Skye Cree had been for more than a dozen years.

  Since the dreams wreaked havoc on his nights, the disturbing nightmares in turn affected his waking hours, putting a strain on his everyday work schedule and ultimately on his relationship with Skye.

  He found he couldn’t go without sleep for long before it started catching up with him. Not only was he tired the next day, he found himself distracted during meetings. During the day-to-day stresses of managing his company, many times he caught himself trying to figure out the riddle of the bones will tell refrain when he should have been focused on the next upgrade or the upcoming software releases.

  As a result, Josh became irritable with his staff. And it had to stop. If he and Skye didn’t find a way to catch this guy soon, insomnia proved, once again, that it could and would kick his ass on a daily basis until this case had a resolution.

  But if his nightly visitations from the mind of a killer weren’t enough, Josh had to deal with the constant knowledge he had to be missing something. At each crime scene, the same message rolled around in his brain and kept coming through loud and clear. The bones will tell.

  And he didn’t have a clue what it meant.

  The deaths he saw in his visions were disturbing, as were the crime scenes he got to visit firsthand. But there were no bones spread around to talk to him to tell him anything.

  “Maybe you’re taking that phrase much too literally,” Skye proposed. “Think about it. Maybe these particular bones don’t have anything to do with this case at all. Maybe you’re getting your wires crossed.”

  “Has that ever happened to you?”

  “Sure. The images merge from one scene to another and they aren’t even related. Haven’t you ever been dreaming about a tropical island and right in the middle of the white sandy beach while sipping your piña colada you drift into some ugly chore you have to do at work the next day? It’s the same principle. The bones will tell might mean you need to go visit a forensic anthropologist, sit down to have a heart-to-heart or there might be bones sitting in a box somewhere you need to find or something of that nature. The point is, it could mean you need to keep an open mind, think outside the box. And you won’t know for sure what the phrase means exactly until later after you’ve exhausted all other avenues.”

  “How much later? That sounds like wasting a lot of valuable time to me.”

  She huffed out a breath. “That’s hard to gauge. It’s not one of those hard-and-fast things with a clear-cut indication you have to look deeper. We’ll figure it out though. If the phrase is tied to this case, it’ll eventually come to light.”

  “In the meantime, I muddle through and wonder what I’m missing. It’s bugging me, Skye.”

  “Then I guess it must be important, a gut instinct, or in this case a strong, recurring theme which should never be ignored.”

  “It’s difficult to do that when I get the same words over and over again in my head at each crime scene. It’s significant, I know it is. Without getting graphic, as horrific as each murder is, let’s face it, these victims aren’t down to bones. In many instances, the women have only been dead for a couple of hours, like at Tracy’s and Julie’s house and Kathy Monroe’s. I don’t think the phrase means current victims.”

  “Well, whatever it means, if our guy keeps up this pace, we’ll have to create an Excel spreadsheet,” Skye countered to keep up. She glanced over at Josh stretched out on the couch and caught his reaction, a flinch in his jaw muscle. “You’ve already done that, haven’t you?”

  “Why not? It seemed the best way to be able to scan the doc and maybe pick up on a pattern.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Not at all. His changing neighborhoods all the time is a problem but if you pick up his pattern—”

  “Could we predict where he might hit next?” Skye wondered.

  “We could try. But it would be damned near impossible because he’s so erratic. We know he goes to great lengths to scout for victims, and then stalks them. But if we could ever narrow down his hunting ground, that would be huge.”

  Skye moved to the map they’d tacked up to a bulletin board near Josh’s desk that he used as his home office. There were photos of each victim along with the addresses of each crime scene. They’d added details of each murder so they could track where he’d hit. It was also a way to keep them all straight. She studied each note, tapped the paper. “The thing is he’s all over the place.”

  “But it should be easier than this to pick up the pattern.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because he’s so anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive, whatever label you want to use to describe him. He feels compelled to go back again and again to the same neighborhood, burglarizing the houses, making sure the people know he’s been there. Harry says he’s never seen a guy do that before. But maybe we could use that particular trait to lure him into a trap.”

  “I’m in.”

  “I know you are. But we have to set the trap first and it has to be something he’s unable to resist. We have to control the environment and set up the scene to perfection. As sadistic as he is, he’s also smart. Because the bastard is too calm and collected as long as he’s in control. Shake his routine and it sets him off enough to take a baseball bat he found under the victim’s bed and bash her brains in.”

  “Or cut out her breast implants. I get your point. But do you get the sense that he’s getting more unpredictable? Because that’s what I’m getting. Not from any outside influence like Kiya either, but his last
four murders have been off the charts in appalling cruelty. How do we even begin to predict when he himself is so unpredictable?”

  “It’s hard to imagine an unstable killer becoming more erratic. But yeah, he seems to have gone on a tear since he lost control and let Janie Holliman escape. He seems to have taken that personally.”

  Skye nodded in agreement. “Like he has to prove a point or something.”

  “Exactly.” But Josh had something he needed to say to her. “What point are you trying to prove, Skye?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start on me, Josh. I’m not ready to deal with what Travis did yet.”

  “And how much time will go by before you are? I know that’s the way you feel right now, this moment, but it’s a blip on the radar in the grand scheme of things. What about down the road? Because something’s been bothering you other than the obvious. It goes well past the initial anger, it’s on a deeper level now, I can sense it. Something you haven’t been able to shake, and it’s the reason you’re unable to get a good night’s sleep. What’s going on with you, Skye?”

  She looked away. “I’ve started to remember certain things from childhood, images really, like snapshots, mostly when I was much younger. They involve Travis and I don’t like what it’s doing to me up here.” She tapped the side of her head at the temple. “I’m recalling stuff that doesn’t fit. With everything else that’s been going on, I don’t want to think about all this right now. I’m not sure I can afford to.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re already distracted. This thing with Travis, you need to take care of it so that you’re able to focus, to fully concentrate on what’s at hand. This serial killer isn’t a side dish and shouldn’t be treated as such. He’s the main course. You being unfocused during this time is not a good thing.” When he realized what she’d said about her childhood, he asked, “What do you mean you remember things? You mean before your parents died?”

  “Oh yeah. Quite a bit before. Years.”

  “And it concerns Travis?”

  Her head slowly moved up and down. “It does.”

  “Remedy this, Skye. Take a drive out to Everett and talk to the man. Your ability to get visions might come back for real if your mind is clear of this one thing. That’ll only happen when you settle this between you and Travis. Otherwise, you’re just spinning your wheels. Look, I’m distracted enough. We don’t need both of us to be vulnerable during this time. It might give this son of a bitch an opening. He doesn’t need another advantage.”

  “That actually makes sense.”

  “Good. Because you don’t want to be dragging more excess baggage around for another dozen years, do you? Why not just settle it once and for all? Either you come to terms with what Travis did or didn’t do or you tell the man how much he hurt you, have it out with him and leave it at that. Either way, you get it all out in the open, no more hostility to muddy your mind. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You get some resolution either way.”

  “It may not go well.”

  “Then at the very least you’ll know where you stand with him and can move on. Want me to go with you?”

  “No. But you’re right. I need to face him about all this stuff and get some answers for my own peace of mind. Otherwise I’ll just stew about it for what could end up being years.”

  “Wasted years at that.”

  “Okay, I’ll drive up to Everett. But I’m not calling and giving him a heads up and I don’t want you doing that either. Promise me.”

  “Who me? I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” Josh said with a wink.

  “Good because the trip will either be a quick turnaround and I’ll be back this evening or this hostility between us will take a couple of days to sort out. Either way, I’ll pack a bag for overnight just in case.”

  “Take all the time you need, Skye. Don’t let this fester until it rots and there’s nothing left to claim for a relationship.”

  “Okay. But if you should happen to get news of a natural disaster with an earthquake magnitude where the epicenter is located in Everett, you’ll know it’s nothing to worry about. Just two stubborn Nez Perce butting heads right before they go to war.”

  Chapter 20 Book 2

  Travis’s haven from the world was forty acres of ranch land outside Everett that he’d dubbed The Painted Crow. Here he could get away from the hustle and noise of Seattle and spend time breeding, raising, and selling the American Paint Horses he loved.

  Among the rolling pasturelands he found the solitude he often needed from running several diverse businesses that usually kept him hopping. Even when he hired the best managers he could find, there were still problems that cropped up. The Country Kitchen offered its share of headaches but it wasn’t his only business with a slew of problematic issues. In addition to the greasy spoon, he owned a fishing boat that brought in enough Dungeness crab to supply the Farmer’s Market on a daily basis. He owned an office supply store, a design business, and was part owner in an upscale seafood restaurant located in Capitol Hill.

  The Painted Crow was his only place to escape from it all.

  Hugging the Washington coastline, his spread sat at the top of a majestic cliff where giant Douglas fir and Sitka spruce vied for space to grow tall and strong. The surrounding forest easily turned out hundred-foot-tall conifers that continued, year after year, to dot the peaks and rocky seashore.

  Standing in the corral, Travis brushed down his latest acquisition, a feisty, smoke-cream mare he intended to use for breeding. While he worked he could smell the salty sea mist as waves crashed up against the wedge of beach and rock below.

  When he heard a car pull in past the iron gate, he recognized the engine in Skye’s Subaru. His heart soared with hope. Maybe she’d decided to forgive him. Hell, at this point he’d settle for her sitting down and listening to what he had to say.

  Travis watched as Skye crawled out from behind the wheel, watched as she walked up to the wooden fence, all the while boring holes through him. He decided to go with something that wouldn’t get him in too much trouble right off. “I hear you have a spirit guide problem,” Travis said with a twinkle in his eye. He wanted so much to approach her and give her a hug. Since he wasn’t sure that would be a good idea, his feet remained planted where they were. He decided to let her give him a sign of why she was here. It had to be significant that she’d driven out to see him.

  Skye smiled. “Turns out, I do. I thought maybe my father might be able to help me get her back.”

  Travis’s eyes misted over as he tossed the brush he’d been using into the bucket. He went over, opened the gate and met her with his arms spread out wide. “Come here, honey.”

  Like a small child, Skye went into his embrace.

  “I don’t blame you for being upset with me. But you should know by now how much I love you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you with all my heart. I always have.”

  “There’s something I should probably confess then.”

  “If this is major maybe we should take it into the house. I made fresh raspberry tea not two hours ago.”

  Skye nodded. “I could use some of that right about now. It was a long drive up here. But what I have to say, you may want something a little stronger than tea.”

  His brow furrowed; deep lines that usually weren’t noticeable now exposed worry and concern. “Okay, you have my attention.”

  When they got to the house, Travis disappeared into the kitchen and Skye followed, not content to stay in the living room. But once she watched him take the tea from the refrigerator and fill the glasses with ice, as the silence dragged out, Travis finally turned to her and said, “What gives?”

  Skye took a deep breath, let it out. She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Okay, here goes. When I was about four or five, I know it was around that time because I hadn’t started school yet, I saw you with my mother. You were both standing together in the garden. You were kissing. Not like friends, but lovers. So
I don’t really want to hear your lame excuse or lie that this thing was simply a one-time shot between the two of you where you acted as sperm donor out of the goodness of your heart.”

  If it was possible every ounce of color drained from Travis’s cinnamon face. He dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. Finally, after what seemed like several long minutes passed, he composed himself enough to admit, “It took more than a couple of times for Jodi to conceive.”

  “Oh please. So this is how you want to mend things with me? With a lie? After your revelation at dinner that night, I started going back in my head to my childhood. I remember times when you were there and Dad was not. He’d go away for long absences. And do you think my math didn’t take? What part of ‘I was four or five years old’ did you not get? You and my mother had an affair. Are you going to sit there and deny it?”

  “No.”

  “I guess that’s a start. You want to tell me how you betrayed a man you considered a brother at the time?”

  “What I told you the other night was the truth.”

  “Which part? Maybe you should explain to me which part you want me to believe—this time. Parsing words, Travis, won’t cut it with me, not anymore. I want the truth, all of it, from the beginning.”

  “I saw your mother first. But she wanted Daniel.”

  “I got that part already. Fast forward to when you first slept with my mother.”

  This time, Travis got up and went to the cabinet. He reached for the whiskey and poured a generous amount of Jameson’s into a stubby glass. He knocked all of it back in one gulp.

  Travis turned to face her as if the alcohol had given him the courage he hadn’t had before. “Things changed between Daniel and Jodi after you were born. Turns out, Daniel couldn’t exactly handle the fact that you belonged to me and not him.”