by Alexa Grace
"Do you have any idea when Cam will be here? We have a meeting at nine."
"He should arrive in thirty minutes," Gail began. "Are you talking about that meeting Michael Brandt scheduled?"
"Yes. Besides Detective Chase, Brody and Carly are attending, too."
"They're both in their offices."
"Good. If no one is in the conference room, I'll work in there on my laptop until Cam gets here."
Gabe started to walk away, but Gail called him back.
"Gabe, if your meeting goes until noon, how about grabbing some lunch with me?"
"Sorry, Gail, I have to run back to my office after the meeting. I have a pile of work waiting for me."
Noting her disappointed expression, Gabe headed toward the conference room. He'd known for months that Gail was attracted to him, but felt nothing in return. That was the thing about chemistry. It was there or it wasn't. Gail was a good woman, intelligent, and with a great sense of humor. Why he couldn't be attracted to someone like Gail instead of women like Abby Reece was a mystery, and a habit he was determined to break.
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When Michael Brandt entered the conference room, it was the first time Gabe had seen him since Carly's birthday party the previous month. He was a big man, six feet and five inches, with around two hundred and thirty pounds of hard muscle. His expression dead-serious, his voice held little humor as he greeted the group and lowered himself to sit at the head of the long conference table.
"I'm depending on all of you to help me convict Jim Ryder for seven counts of murder. I'm going for the death penalty. If anyone deserves the needle, it's Ryder. If we're going to win, our evidence has to be rock-solid." Michael spoke with conviction, branding them with the importance of information and evidence each had to offer.
"For any DNA evidence, we need an expert to explain it to the jury in simple terms. I don't want a repeat of the Casey Anthony case in Orlando, where it's suspected the jury members didn't understand what the DNA expert was talking about. Casey Anthony walked. Jim Ryder will not. Not on my watch, he won't." Michael paused, glancing at the overstuffed files before each of them.
Directing the question to Carly, he asked, "I know you have an FBI background as an agent. Do you have any contacts who are DNA experts we could get to testify?"
"I do, but I'm not sure they would make the complex DNA information easier. Their expertise is to understand the complexities, but not necessarily to explain in layman's terms so the average person can understand. That's not their focus," Carly explained. "I think the best expert for the job is Dr. Pittman, our coroner here in Shawnee County. I've discussed autopsy results with him, and he is gifted in explaining the complex with absolute clarity, in the simplest language."
Carly's cell phone vibrated on the table. Glancing at the display and discovering the caller's name, she rose from her seat, her expression tense. "I have to take this. Excuse me." Rushing from the room, she answered the phone and began speaking with the caller.
"I haven't met Pittman, but it sounds like he's our guy," said Michael.
"I'll arrange a meeting for you to talk to Bryan. He's one of my oldest friends. Why don't we do lunch soon?" Brody offered.
"Sounds like a plan."
"Which victims do you want to discuss first?" Brody asked, eager for his team to discuss the evidence they'd painstakingly collected.
"Tell me what you have for all of them, including the four victims found in the shallow graves at the Johnson farm, the two in the burning car, and Jasmine Norris." Michael flipped back a page to write on his legal pad.
Brody gave Cameron a nod, signaling him to present first. "Jasmine Norris was beaten to death. The remaining six victims were shot execution-style, at point-blank range through the back of the skull. No bullet casings were found at the shallow graves or the burning car crime scene, but at autopsy, judging from the size of the hole in the skulls, Bryan believes the bullet was a nine millimeter."
His expression filled with doubt, Michael said, "I'm not sure that's going to help much at trial without tangible evidence that backs him up."
Cameron nodded in agreement. "We've got the backup. Nine millimeter casings were found in Ryder's backyard, where we think the six girls were executed."
"How do we link that to Ryder, besides the location?"
"In addition to his department-issued nine millimeter Sig Sauer Pro, Ryder had a nine millimeter Glock taped on the underside of a kitchen drawer. ATF tested the Glock and it produced the same type of striations on the bullets we found on Ryder's property."
"Good work, Detective."
Carly appeared in the doorway and motioned for Brody to join her in the hallway.
"Brody, my call was from Alison's mother."
"What's wrong?"
"A man calling himself Jim Ryder phoned Alison last night on her home's landline and threatened to kill her if she testified."
Brody's face reddened with anger. "How the hell could Ryder call her from the county jail? He doesn't have a cell phone, nor does he have phone privileges. He's in solitary so we can keep the other inmates away from him."
"We don't know if it was actually Ryder who called. But Mrs. Brown is hysterical. They just moved into a new house after she got a job at the hospital in Evansville. She's afraid if the caller found their phone number, which is unlisted, he'll find their house. Alison is terrified."
"Give me some time to call the jail to see what's going on with Ryder." Brody headed toward his office with Carly by his side. "If we have to, we'll move them back into another safe house."
In the evidence meeting, Michael asked, "Anything else?"
Gabe spoke up. "We discovered items in Ryder's basement that belonged to each of the victims."
It wasn't Gabe's job to search Ryder's basement. He was a relatively inexperienced computer forensics professional when Cameron asked for his help. Gabe sensed his brother was offering a learning experience, and he'd eagerly accepted.
The day they searched the basement, it was dark, except for sunlight leaking through a small dirty window. It smelled of mold, mildew and human waste. Gabe had forced himself to focus on the search for evidence, instead of the depressing, sickening visuals in his head of how the young girls were caged, raped and tortured at the hands of a deputy he'd shared coffee and donuts with.
"What did you find?" Michael asked.
Gabe noticed a glint of approval in his brother's eyes. "We found laptops and cell phones belonging to six of the victims, and Samantha Grey's e-reader, cell, and leather purse, which contained her library card."
"We also found dog collars hanging on hooks on one wall of the basement. There was one for each victim."
"How can you tell which item belongs to which victim?" Michael asked, clearly confused.
Cameron interjected, "The victim's DNA and fingerprints were found on each item, as were Ryder's."
"Do you mean that there's evidence that Ryder handled each item?"
"Absolutely," said Gabe. He pulled out a photo of the basement area where a tall stack of boxes were found, and handed the picture to Michael. "He may have just handled the items as he stored them in the cardboard boxes where we found them in the basement. Whatever the case, his fingerprints and DNA are on each item, along with the whip he used to beat them."
"Excellent!" Michael did a high-five with Gabe, as Cameron smiled with pride.
"Did you forensically examine each of the laptops?" asked Michael. "If so, tell me what you found."
"After subpoenaing each Internet Service Provider or ISP, I got copies of each victim's email that was downloaded on the ISP's server. I discovered all seven girls frequently communicated on Teen Chat, as did Jim Ryder. After we served a subpoena to Teen Chat, they provided transcripts of each conversation between Ryder and the victims."
"Yes!" Michael did a fist pump. "What else do we have?"
"Ryder's sperm and DNA were discovered on Jasmine Norris during her autopsy. His fingerprints and DNA are
on the dog collar found on her neck, on the leather restraints hanging from the ceiling, and in both of the dog crates."
"Anything else?" The prosecutor asked, as he wrote down the information.
A smile creased Cameron's face. "We're saving the best for last, counselor."
Puzzled, Michael looked at him.
"There was a plastic bin in Ryder's basement filled with DVDs. The bastard filmed his torture of the girls so he could relive the sick thrill later. There is a DVD for each victim, including his vicious attack on Jasmine Norris and the rape of Alison Brown."
"There is no way Ryder's defense attorney will want these DVDs admitted to evidence, and he'll fight it. It will be in the judge's hands to allow them or not," said Michael. "But if I can show the jury even one of these DVDs, we've got Ryder. There's no way a jury won't convict him."
"What about cell phone records?" Michael inquired.
Gabe tapped on a stuffed folder. "We got a court order for each cell phone carrier and they all cooperated, providing records that tell us each time a victim and Ryder communicated on the cell phone."
"That's helpful. What about GPS information that puts Ryder and the victims in the same location?"
"Sorry, that info, I don't have. We think Ryder instructed the girls to turn off their cell phones or take out the batteries prior to reaching Shawnee County."
"He was a deputy sheriff. Unfortunately, one of ours," said Cameron with disgust. "He knew this was one way to keep law enforcement from finding the girls once they went missing."
"Do we know how he lured the victims to Morel?"
"Yes. Carly was right in the profile she wrote before we had any idea Jim Ryder was our killer. Ryder targeted preteen girls who were having problems at school or at home. The guy knew exactly what to say to these girls to earn their trust. He was patient enough to build the relationships to the point he could persuade them to meet him in person in Shawnee County."
"I've seen Ryder. He's nothing to look at. How did he attract these young girls in the first place?"
"He didn't use his own photo," Gabe said angrily. "He used a photo of me that was taken when I was in high school. I found out the night I walked into Alison Brown's hospital room. She screamed and called me 'Anthony,' which was the online name Ryder was using."
"He's a devious bastard. That's for sure." Michael quickly jotted down the information. "He thought of everything he needed to do to bait and trap his victims."
Brody and Carly entered the room and returned to their seats at the table.
Brody scrubbed his hands tiredly over his face. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have some news."
"I can tell it isn't good," said Michael. "Let's hear it."
"Ryder, or someone he's hired, threatened to kill Alison Brown last night if she testifies."
"You have got to be kidding me." Michael shook his head in disbelief.
"Wish I was."
"I thought you had him in solitary. How could he hire anyone to do this?"
"We're kidding ourselves if we think that inmates don't talk to each other. Hell, they smuggle in cell phones all the time. They also pass notes. I don't know how Ryder did it, but he managed to terrify both Alison and her mother."
"Can't you move them to a safe house until after the trial?"
"That's what I'm trying to do, but Alison and her mother are pushing back. Mrs. Brown has a new job and Alison just started school. They both moved into their new house two weeks ago. They don't want their new lives disrupted."
"I get that," Michael replied. "But Alison is my only witness. I'm not sure I can get a conviction without her. In addition, we can't keep them safe if they don't cooperate."
"I agree. Let's give them the night to think about it, and I'll try again tomorrow."
Carly leaned toward Brody. "Let me try tomorrow. I have a good relationship with Alison and her mom. Maybe I can persuade them both."
Chapter Three
"Devan, wake up!" Evan punched his brother on the arm. "She's on the move." He slipped the key in the ignition of the van to turn on the motor.
"On the move? You've been watching too many cop shows,"
"Whatever." Evan gazed at the silhouette of Abby Reece, who was sitting in her car, her cell phone pressed against her ear, the interior illuminated by the garage light that spilled across the parking area. He and Devan had been following Abby since September, after school and on the weekends, and Evan was tired of all the stalking. He wanted some action and hoped tonight was the night they grabbed her.
"What time is it?" asked Devan.
"Eight-forty-five."
"Think she might be meeting someone at nine?"
"Let's find out."
Hanging back a couple of cars so she wouldn't notice them, they followed Abby to the Hoosier Sports Bar and Grill. Since the place was brimming with the Friday night crowd, Evan had to circle the lot twice before finding a parking place. As was his habit, Devan pulled down the cosmetic mirror to primp and comb his hair. Though they were identical twins, Evan had always thought Devan was more pretty than handsome, with cropped blonde hair, chiseled jaw bones, and startling light blue eyes under a shield of thick lashes. The girls at school thought he was hot and vied for his attention, making Devan egotistical and vain. Evan pitied any female who developed feelings for Devan, for they would never be returned. The only time Devan felt anything for a female was when he was choking the life out of her. Satisfied with his look, Devan handed the comb to his brother.
Once inside, they eased up to the bar, ordered a couple of beers with fake driver's licenses, and then casually scanned the room, searching for their target.
Abby Reece wasn't hard to find. She was gyrating on the dance floor with a group of people, wearing a body-hugging cherry-red wrap dress that threatened to unwrap itself as she danced. With her arms up high, she wiggled and flipped her hair as she sought the attention of the men on the dance floor.
Devan and Evan moved to a table, ordered more drinks and appetizers, and watched the impromptu show on the dance floor, starring Abby Reece. They joined her, dancing until a little after one o'clock, when Abby appeared to be winding down. They took the opportunity to pay their bill and depart. After waiting in their van for thirty minutes for Abby to leave the bar, they decided it might be smarter to wait at her apartment.
At Abby's apartment building, Devan backed the van under a large oak tree, while Evan used a baseball bat to break a flood light mounted on the garage. With the exception of a sliver of moonlight, the area was quite dark, the way they wanted it.
In the back of the van, Devan covered the floor with a thick sheet of plastic. He planned to abduct her, not kill her, at least not yet, but wanted to be prepared for the unexpected. He'd learned that lesson the hard way when a prostitute they'd kidnapped pulled a small knife out of her purse and stabbed Evan in the arm before Devan could snap her neck. It was a superficial cut, but blood spattered everywhere, and it took forever for them to scrub the van with bleach.
Evan pulled out a duffle bag that held duct tape, two syringes, a box of surgical gloves, two ski masks, handcuffs, trash bags, a coil of rope, two stun guns, a couple of knives, and a roll of paper towels. Tucking one of the stun guns into his back pocket, he handed the other to Devan. Using a stun gun was the most effective way to subdue their target. It instantly disabled a victim's muscles so she could not run away or fight back.
The crunch of gravel under tires and the appearance of headlights caught their attention. Abby had returned.
Devan turned off the internal lights of their vehicle, and both men climbed out. By the time they reached Abby, she was leaning into her car, reaching for her purse on the passenger seat. When she straightened and closed the door, Evan jabbed her in the neck with his stun gun, and she crumpled to the ground as if her muscles had melted. Devan flung her over his shoulder and carried her fireman-style to the van, laying her limp body on the sheet of plastic in the back.
Evan quickly bound h
er wrists and legs with duct tape, then covered her mouth with more tape. Closing the van doors, he stayed in the back of the vehicle with Abby, while Devan drove quickly through the quiet neighborhood into the night. The game had begun.
Abby Reece lay motionless next to Evan. The effects of the stun gun would wear off soon, and her muscles would slowly come to life. Evan lightly brushed her blonde hair out of the way so he could better see her face. With porcelain skin and delicate, high cheek bones, she was exquisite, with long, dark eyelashes that slightly fluttered now. Abby Reece was prettier than any of the girls at his school. Evan yearned to stroke her skin but alarm tensed his body.
