by Anne Patrick
Ties That Bind
Anne Patrick
A Familiar Evil
Copyright © 2010 by Anne Patrick
2nd Edition Copyright © 2012 by Anne Patrick
3rd Edition Copyright © 2015 by Anne Patrick
ISBN-13: 978-1517537746
ISBN-10: 1517537746
Published in the United States of America
Editors: Shawna K. Williams & Sydney Morgan
Cover Design by Melody Simmons
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
Dedication
To my family and friends for your continued love and support, and to my readers… thank you for joining me on this wonderful journey.
I couldn't do it without you!
Chapter one
Jo McDaniels listened attentively as Sheriff Austin Garrett explained the reason for his call. "In the last two weeks, three women have been found nude and decapitated here in Claremont, Oregon. They were found in wooded areas, frequented by hunters and hikers, each with a piece of string connecting the large toes of both feet."
She glanced up from her notepad, looked at Special Agent in Charge Isaac Washington, and then to the intercom on his desk. Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. "Did you say Claremont, Oregon?" She hoped like crazy he hadn't.
"Yeah, we're an hour's drive from Portland."
"I know where it is." It was her hometown and she hadn't been back there in ten years. She shifted her gaze back to her supervisor and shook her head, suspecting he'd known this before he even brought the case to her attention. "Have the victims been identified?"
"Fingerprints were run but their identities remain unknown. Basic descriptions of the Jane Does have been sent out to area and state law enforcement agencies, but so far, no hits. Due to the lack of blood and trace evidence found at the scenes, it appears they were killed elsewhere and their bodies brought to the wooded areas then placed against a tree in an upright position."
Jo added the details to her notes then swiped her sweaty palms against her slacks. This can't be happening!
"We'll need all your case notes and photos of the victims and dumpsites," Agent Washington advised.
If he thinks I'm going back there, he's nuts.
"I FedEx'd them yesterday, you should be getting them sometime today."
Jo gave a heavy sigh. It was the type of case she loved to crack. She couldn't go back there, though. They were just going to have to send someone else. Closing her notepad, she glanced over just as Agent Washington hung up.
"I know that you don't want to do this, but you're my best profiler, Jo," he said, with the quirky smile he always used when trying to persuade her to do something she didn't want to do. "Besides, what would the town folk think of their pride and joy if she refused to come to their aid?"
"I didn't much care what they thought of me when I left, why should I now?"
"You can't tell me you're not at least intrigued."
His words raised a smile. It frightened her sometimes how well he knew her. "The victims haven't even been identified yet." And knowing them, their habits and personalities would be instrumental in developing a working profile of the killer.
"Which is why I need you and your gift."
Gift. It was more like a curse, bringing her closer to the killer than the victims themselves in many cases. It was the reason she'd left Claremont in the first place to join the FBI, and why she had become the top in her field.
"I know you, Jo, it's cases like this one, where there's little to go on, that you live for."
"I haven't been back to Claremont in—"
"I know. And I know it won't be easy for you. Time is of the essence, here, though. This person has already killed three women."
Great. He was pulling out the guilt card, knowing she'd cave in if he did.
"Maybe it's time you buried the past. You could kill two birds with one stone."
She gave a dry chuckle. "That's easier said than done."
"Have a look at the case file when it comes in, you can decide then."
*****
Roped in by her morbid curiosity, after reading the case file, Jo caught a flight to Portland the following morning, determined to confront the demons from her past.
The hour's drive to Claremont along I-84 was undoubtedly one of the most scenic routes in the state of Oregon. A majestic Mt. Hood towered over commercial farms, orchards, and thousands of acres of farm land while Multnomah Falls was undeniably the most amazing sight she'd ever seen. However, the closer she got to her old stomping grounds, the anxiety she'd felt at the onset, returned tenfold. She feared coming back to Claremont was a mistake she'd live to regret.
As she drove down Main Street, all the old antique shops situated around the square looked to be thriving with the tourist trade, including the local five and dime, Whitman's Grocery, Bertha's Restaurant, Tyson's Drug Store, Al's Pizzeria, and Thompson's Bed & Breakfast, located across from the park. She would have preferred to stay at the B&B, but since she didn't know how long she'd be staying, and due to limited space, she'd been forced to settle on Claremont's seemingly only newest addition, the Motel 6. Just off the Interstate, it was six blocks from the town's main square, an inconvenience at the least. With a county population of only twenty-eight thousand most everything was located in the center of town.
After the hour and half layover in Chicago, an hour spent soaking up the heat in front of the airport terminal waiting to be picked up, and another half hour spent arguing over her reservation at the Motel 6, Jo's patience ran thin as she stood staring up at the two-story red brick building. Identified by an oval sign out front, as the Caldwell County Sheriff's Office, it brought back many memories.
She sneered over her shoulder at the four-door green sedan parked in a No Parking Zone. Hopefully, an over eager deputy would have it towed off while she was inside. If she was really lucky, a meteor would come crashing to earth, landing in the middle of town square, and she may be able to get her deposit back. Figuring the unlikelihood of either event, she gave a heavy sigh and entered the double glass doors of the sheriff's office.
A deputy in his mid-thirties greeted her with a smile. "Can I help you, Ma'am?" he asked eagerly as his hand slid through hair the color of dark chocolate.
Jo met his brown eyes as she flashed her credentials. "Special Agent Joanna McDaniels with the FBI. Sheriff Garrett is expecting me." His smile faded when he saw her badge. "Mind if I have a closer look at that. We've got a lot of reporters running around here and they'll stoop to just about anything to get a story."
She obliged his request, as two younger deputies looked on curiously from their desks. With a quick look around the large office, Jo noticed some changes had been made since the last time she'd stood in the reception area. Instead of the lone computer her father had to practically beg for when he was sheriff, there was one on all six desks now, and the walls that used to be smoke-stained yellow were now a stark white. She didn't recognize any of the faces and wondered if her father's favorite deputies, Walt and Slim, were still around.
It was hard to believe it'd been ten years since she was last in Claremont. It seemed like only yesterday, the memories were still that vivid. It was in the very spot she stood now that she last saw her father. To this day sh
e'd never forgotten the look on his face when she'd told him she was leaving Oregon to pursue a career with the bureau. It was the look of both pain and disappointment. She'd often fantasized a reunion where he'd tell her how proud he was of her accomplishments. His death two years ago put an end to that notion.
"I suppose you're here to save us from the big bad monster?"
She pushed past the painful memories and turned back to the deputy who held her badge in his hand. She sensed an obvious resentment and figured he and the other deputies, still looking on, were afraid she was there to take over their investigation. "I'm here because I was asked to come. Hopefully, I can be of some assistance in figuring out who killed these women."
"Yeah right. I'm sure you'll be a lot of help."
His sarcasm added to the fact she didn't want to be there, sparked immediate anger. "Tell me something, deputy, have you ever had your butt kicked by a girl?"
"That won't be necessary," a deep masculine voice spoke at her back just as the deputy's face turned beet red.
Jo quickly recognized the voice as that of the sheriff she'd talked to yesterday. Perfect. She turned, pleasantly surprised to find he was nothing like she'd pictured him. "Sheriff Garrett."
With a frown, he brushed past her to retrieve her badge from the deputy. After a brief glance, he handed it back to her, along with his outstretched hand. "Everyone calls me Austin."
At five-eight, she was a good four inches shorter than he. She met his baby blues that went perfectly with his sandy blond hair and shook his hand. "Special Agent McDaniels. I was told I'd be met at the airport in Portland."
"Sorry about that," the sheriff said. "I was held up and there was some miscommunication as to what time your plane would arrive."
"You had my cell phone number. A call would have been nice." Maybe then she wouldn't have wasted an hour or gotten stuck with the worst rental car she'd ever had.
"Sorry Ma'am. I'm the one who was supposed to pick you up," the young deputy admitted.
She wasn't surprised. "Well, I'm here now, guess that's all that matters," she replied, curbing her anger.
"What do you say we take a ride, Agent McDaniels?" Sheriff Garrett suggested. "As of an hour ago we have another body."
Jo turned back to the sheriff with a raised eyebrow. "Your killer must have known I was coming." She hoisted her black leather laptop case over her left shoulder and followed him out the door.
*****
Austin led the way toward his black Jeep Cherokee, taking note of the ugly green sedan with a rental sticker in the corner of the windshield, parked in the No Parking Zone. That, along with his deputy's behavior, had no doubt prompted her threat of physical violence.
"What makes you think our man knew you were coming?"
"Speaking in general, it's not unusual to have a fresh kill appear when news leaks out that a profiler has been called in. It's a form of intimidation, his invitation to play the game."
He paused, her comment halting further movement. "This is no game, Agent McDaniels. Four women are dead."
"You're wrong, Sheriff Garrett. It's always a game to the killer, and the only way we're going to catch him is to become a better player than he is."
The intensity of her gaze convinced him that she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her soft brown eyes appeared almost devoid of emotion. He could only imagine the horrors this woman had seen in her field of work.
Prior to talking to her on the phone yesterday, he'd spoken to Agent Washington about her experience with serial killers. He'd been told very little, other than the fact she'd been with the bureau for ten years, which was an achievement in itself, considering only six percent of those who apply to the FBI are accepted. Agent Washington had nothing but praise for his star profiler and assured him that if anyone was capable of nailing this monster, she was. He'd reminded Austin of the importance of learning the identities of the victims, and then added that Special Agent McDaniels had a unique gift that placed her in a league of her own. What that gift was, he wouldn't specify.
Austin had only met one other profiler during his career and he'd been a veteran of more than twenty years with the FBI. The man had neither the patience nor the desire to explain what it was a profiler did. Through his own research, though, Austin had learned that they took the evidence presented and the backgrounds of the victims and crime scene photos and studied them, then recreated in their minds what took place between the victim and the killer. Basically, it was the same method of any crime scene investigator, only a profiler, a student of nature and psychology used those skills to develop a profile of the killer. Gaining insight from interviews and studies of serial killers now behind bars, a profiler is able to use that knowledge to determine the killer's personality and motivation. It wasn't a pure science, but more often than not, the assistance was beneficial in solving a case.
Having been a homicide detective with the L.A. County Sheriff's Office most of his career, he'd hoped that by coming to Claremont, Oregon, he'd never have to see another murder victim. He was wrong.
He stole a glance at his passenger and found her staring out at the passing scenery. He couldn't help but wonder if her silence was some sort of ritual, a form of preparation for what awaited her at the scene. Gone was the arrogance she'd demonstrated with Doug Pendergrass, his cocky deputy who fell prey to her retaliation for having been stood up at the airport.
A smile crept into his expression as he recalled their confrontation. Without a doubt, she had an edge to her, but he liked her sense of humor. It wasn't often Deputy Pendergrass was put in his place.
His cockiness aside, Pendergrass was a good cop. Austin couldn't really blame him and his other deputies for being upset with the woman's presence when he himself had been outraged at the idea of bringing in the FBI. After all, it'd only been a couple of weeks and they were doing their best to catch the killer. He himself hadn't had a good night's rest since the first body was found.
Averaging only a couple of hours of sleep a night, was taking its toll, but he wasn't about to succumb to his weariness, especially now that he had the FBI at his heels, just waiting for the small town sheriff to screw up.
"According to the file you faxed our office, and our phone conversation yesterday, you still don't know the identities of the first three victims?"
His eyes leveled on Jo. "We ran their prints, but they're not in the system, and we've checked with local and state for missing persons fitting their weight and height. I've also put out a statewide alert for abandoned cars or rentals that haven't been returned. So far we haven't had any luck."
The corners of her mouth drew up to form a smile. "I wasn't questioning your competence, Sheriff. I'm sure you've done everything in your power to learn who they were."
"Sorry. It's just…well, the boys aren't taking too kindly to the FBI's involvement. They want to be the ones to catch this guy."
"If I remember correctly you requested our help. Or is it the fact that I'm a woman that is bothering you and your boys?"
"Your gender is irrelevant, as far as I'm concerned. I'm confident that after ten years with the bureau, you are quite capable in your field. The fact remains, though, that the county commissioners requested I bring you in on the suggestion of the district attorney's office."
"What, do they think you're such a moron that you can't solve your own cases?"
"It would appear so."
"If my old man were still alive, he'd be busting some chops around here."
His eyes widened at the reference to her old man. Joanna McDaniels. McDaniels was a fairly common name, especially around here. "Don't tell me you're Bill McDaniels daughter?"
"You didn't know?"
"No!" He gave a heavy sigh. "No wonder they requested you."
Jo leaned back, her eyes steady on him. "Hey, this wasn't my idea."
Maybe not, but knowing her father's reputation and loyal followers, her presence was only going to add more pressure on him.
"L
ook, the only reason I'm here is because of the request your office made. I'd prefer the stinking swamps of Louisiana, or sweltering heat of the Arizona desert compared to working a case in my hometown."
"That bad huh? I can't believe I didn't make the connection between you and your father. He's all I've heard about since I came here, especially since the murders started."
"I can imagine. He was a well-respected man. I don't envy your position; his shoes will be tough to fill." She turned in the seat so that she now faced him. "I often wondered who'd taken over; I just assumed Walt or Slim would. They'd been with him forever it seems."
"They were too smart for that."
"Then they retired?"
"No, thank God. They're my best men."
"How are they doing?"
"You'll see for yourself shortly, I left them at the scene."
"Geez, I haven't seen them in ten years."
"You don't get back much, huh?" he teased, suspecting it was more than the lack of free time that kept her away from her hometown.
*****
Jo was relieved when he didn't press the subject of her estrangement from her family. Knowing he had to be familiar with them since her mother still taught high school and her brother was a successful contractor. She respected him for that sensitivity. Had she been in his shoes, she undoubtedly would have inquired further, but then she always did love solving puzzles, especially human ones.
"Here we are," Sheriff Garrett said as he pulled up next to a black van with 'Medical Examiner' printed in bold white letters on the side.
A flashback from the past suddenly overwhelmed her. It was almost ten years to the day that she'd been sent to a crime scene, much like this one, and she'd met Special Agent Isaac Washington. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins as if she'd run a marathon, she'd assessed the third victim of a series of young boys' deaths, confirming the gruesome discovery as another victim of Portland's first serial killer. Like the other two, he'd had his tiny throat slashed from ear to ear, his small delicate hands bound behind his back.
