by Anne Patrick
"Sorry I wasn't better company," she responded, feeling somewhat guilty at knowing he'd given up time with his daughter to be with her.
"Don't be. You're exhausted. You needed the rest."
"That's why you stayed, isn't it?" Jo accused. Figuring he probably knew if he hadn't stayed she would have continued to work throughout the evening.
"Partly." He tightened his grip around her waist. "The main reason being this…," and gave her a leisurely kiss.
With a contented sigh, Jo gazed into Austin's blue eyes. She couldn't remember ever feeling so comfortable around another person, or wanting to be a bigger part of someone's life.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing. You should go. Bailey is probably wondering where you are."
"Yeah." He kissed her again, and then with his mouth lingering next to hers. "I'll call you later."
"I'll be here."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jo barely managed three hours of sleep after Austin left, her thoughts consumed with the particulars of the case. Finally giving into the insomnia she rose, put on her sweats and went for her morning run.
It was unusually cold for a mid-April morning and she contemplated stopping in at Bertha's for a cup of hot coffee but was afraid she'd be too tempted to eat breakfast and she really didn't have the time. Instead, she stopped at the store for more bottled water and returned to the motel, showered, dressed and got right to work on completing her profile.
It was almost noon before she'd finished. It'd been a taxing three days, but she was confident it was an accurate description of the killer and that it'd be an important contributor in his apprehension.
With the profile completed and all her notes and files sorted and put away, she went back to work on the passenger list, placing all the male names onto a list on her laptop. She doubted it'd do any good, this one list, but if they could get passenger lists from all the flights the victims flew on and compared her list to them, then maybe, they'd find a match; proving her theory that the killer met some of the victims when he'd flown on the same flight as them.
It was late in the afternoon before Austin called and her heartbeat quickened just at the sound of his voice. "If you're not doing anything this evening, Bailey is fixing dinner and we'd like it if you could join us. If you want to that is?"
"I'd love to. What time?"
"Six. I can come and get you so you won't have to drive the green bomb."
"That's okay. I'm getting kind of use to the old boy. Can I bring anything? Wine? Dessert?"
"Nope. Just yourself."
Jo hung up and smiled as the memories of the previous night came drifting back to her. Just as she'd imagined, his kisses were amazing. More importantly, there was a special bond forming between them, one of trust and respect. His anxiety at tarnishing her reputation was amusing, his chivalry only one of the characteristics that drew her to him. He had an air about him that was disturbingly peaceful, reminding her of a Sunday school teacher she had as a kid. It was obvious he was in a close walk with the Lord.
Jo thought of her own relationship with God or the lack thereof. Since the loss of her father, she'd thought often of returning to the church, but the same fear that prevented her from confronting her mother was the same fear she felt at the idea of turning back to God. The fear of rejection.
She forced the disturbing thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the passenger list again. When she came to Suzanne Reynolds flight on Sunday, she found herself staring at an all too familiar name. Brad Cartwright. She immediately thought back to Slim's invitation to his cookout last weekend and Brad's mentioning of a conference he was to attend in Seattle, preventing him from attending.
She made a mental note to phone or visit Brad to see if he remembered seeing anyone acting suspiciously, or making unwanted advances toward the Stewardess. It would have been a short flight and probably a long shot, but Brad, like her, was a student of human nature. If anything out of the ordinary happened on that flight, he would have noticed.
*****
Not wanting to show up empty handed at Austin's, Jo stopped off at Bertha's and bought a coconut cream pie en route to dinner. Bailey answered the door and quickly led her to the living room where Austin was busy with some paper work.
"Any new developments?" Jo passed Bailey the pie and then joined him on the sofa.
"Amy Fugate, the waitress at the airport lounge is pretty sure she saw the guy before, and not just in the lounge. She's still working on a composite sketch and I've requested a list of all the male employee's at the airport."
"That's a good idea. You should probably request passenger lists of all the victims' flights also; hopefully, we'll see a match."
He tossed her a gorgeous smile. "I'm one ahead of you. They're working on it now. I'd asked for one of Suzanne Reynolds' flight but was informed the FBI beat me to it."
"Sorry, I meant to mention that."
"I thought we were working as a team, Jo."
"We are, but I'm getting tired of sitting around twiddling my thumbs, or standing on the sidelines as you called it. So, I took the initiative. I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds, but I'd like to be more involved in this investigation."
"I think after the last three days, you've done more than your share of the work."
In no mood to argue, she decided to change the subject. "Anyway, I noticed Brad's name on the list and thought I might pay him a visit tomorrow to see if he noticed anything out of the ordinary."
"That's the weekend he flew to Seattle, isn't it?"
"Yeah, he attended a conference. That's why he wasn't able to come to Slim's cookout."
"Speaking of the cookout, have you seen your brother anymore?" he wrapped his hand around hers.
"No." She turned from his gaze to stare at the mound of paper work on the coffee table.
"What about your mom?"
"She left a message on my answering machine at home. She wants to see me."
"Are you going to?"
She was tempted to tell him about seeing her the other day, but fearing he'd think her a coward, she didn't. "I don't know," she said instead.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and when she turned to meet his gaze, his mouth lowered onto hers in a tender kiss.
"I hate to interrupt this earth shattering moment, but dinner is ready."
They both turned to see Bailey standing at the end of the sofa, arms folded, and a smile placed smugly on her face.
"As much as I like your daughter, her timing really sucks," Jo said loud enough that Bailey heard as well.
"You guys can kiss all you want once I'm out of here. Which, if Jesse keeps to her word, will be any minute."
"You're not joining us for dinner?" Jo asked, still leaning against Austin.
"I don't think so," she replied as if it'd been a ridiculous question.
"Why did you fix dinner, if you're not eating with us?" Austin asked.
"I figured you needed all the help you could get." Her eyes leveled on Jo. "Keep in mind I'm a teenager, so I only do three or four nice things a year. This counts as one of them."
"Okay, smart aleck, just don't stay out too late."
"It's Sunday night, Dad, the streets roll up at eight o'clock."
Austin seemed about to speak when the blast of a horn stole their attention.
"That's Jesse, gotta go. You kids have fun."
"She's something else," Jo commented moments later as they stared in surprise at the candlelit dinner on the dining room table. A beautiful roast with baby carrots and potatoes filled a platter in the middle of the table.
"Yeah, she is." He pulled a chair out for Jo. "Its times like these she scares the living daylights out of me."
"You've done a wonderful job raising her, Austin. She's a smart kid. I doubt you'll have anything to worry about."
After dinner Jo disappeared into the kitchen to start on the dishes while Austin checked in with his office. She couldn't help feeling a
little perturbed that a teenager could cook such a delicious meal when she could barely make spaghetti without burning it.
A half hour later, Austin joined Jo in the kitchen.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Just the usual. A domestic at the Jones's and a couple of fender benders."
Jo put away the last of the dishes. "Your daughter is a very good cook."
"I taught her everything she knows."
"Yeah right."
He grabbed her around the waist and turned her into his arms. "How dare you doubt my cooking skills."
"I never said you weren't a decent cook, but let's face it, you're about as comfortable in the kitchen as I am."
"I don't know about that, you looked pretty content a few seconds ago."
"You were watching me?" When he nodded, she smiled. "You know, you're the last thing I expected when I came here."
"Getting scared?"
She wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated a sensual kiss. "Does that answer your question?"
"Call me a skeptic, but I think I'm going to need more proof," he teased.
Jo laughed. "You're incorrigible."
He kissed her cheek before ending their embrace. "It's still early, you feel up to a movie?"
"Sure."
*****
Two hours later, Austin treated Jo to an ice cream cone and a walk in the park, the full moon providing just enough light to see in the darkened areas between the lampposts. He'd gotten the inspiration from the romantic comedy they'd seen, and hoped his lack of originality didn't sway her away from her earlier desire to pursue a relationship with him.
"I've been giving some thought as to how we might lure the killer out," Jo said.
Did she ever stop working? "Oh yeah, how?"
"We could hold a candlelight vigil for the victims and videotape it. There have been a few cases that I worked on that we caught the killer on film."
"Wouldn't hurt to try. I can call the families first thing in the morning to invite them and we could announce it at the news conference. Would Tuesday be too soon you think?"
"I doubt all the families can make it, but it should give the killer enough notice. I'm sure he's following the story. They like reading about themselves. It fuels their fantasies."
"Tell me what it was like for you this past week, while you were creating your profile."
She slowed her pace as she looked at him. "No, Austin. I've told you too much as it is. I don't want you worrying about me, what I'm going through when I'm on a case like this. It isn't good for either one of us."
He liked the sound of that; there was a hint of a future. "Please, Jo. This is a large part of who you are. I need to know what it's like so I can understand you better so that I can be there for you when you need me to be."
Austin could tell his words had caught her off guard, causing her expression to soften. But it was several seconds before she spoke. "I had a very strong vision of the killer as he was strangling one of the victims."
"Is that how you hurt yourself?"
She nodded as she polished off the rest of her ice cream cone, then wiped her mouth with the napkin he offered. "Similar visions have happened before on other cases. Not as graphic maybe, but just as scary."
"When you're experiencing one of these visions, are you aware that the murder has already taken place?"
"Sometimes it's hard to distinguish past and present because I'm experiencing everything the victim and the killer felt."
Austin recalled Agent Washington's description of the process she went through, comparing it to committing murder with your own hands. He then thought of the phone call he'd received from her and how upset she had sounded in the beginning. "In the vision you had the other day, did you know the killers thoughts as he was committing the murder?"
"In the vision I became him. I know every sick thought that went through his mind. Worst of all, I felt his anger." She stopped walking and turned to him. "Have you ever been so mad at someone, you couldn't think straight."
"A couple of times. Pendergrass comes to mind."
"Well triple that anger and you'll have a sense of what I've felt in some of the men I've come into contact with. Blinded by a rage so consuming, it's like being possessed by Satan himself. You've no conscience, you think of nothing but the desire to hurt other people. And when I say hurt, I mean in the most horrible and unimaginable ways possible."
"But when you're finished, once you come back to reality, you're back to normal, right?"
"Most of the time." She walked on ahead of him.
He caught up to her. "Okay, now you're starting to scare me."
She shoved her hands into her pockets and continued to walk beside him, her gaze lowered to the ground in front of her. "Sometimes it isn't easy to walk away from it, to forget the images and emotions. Some cases have a way of taking control of me. Fortunately, it's only happened once."
"The case Agent Washington mentioned?" He'd suspected it was probably one of her worst.
She glanced over at him. "What did Isaac say about it?"
"He didn't give many details, he only said the last time you used your gift like this it almost cost you your life."
Jo paused underneath a lamppost and slowly met his gaze. "It wasn't so much my life that was in danger, but my sanity."
"You had a nervous breakdown?"
"He told you?" she asked softly as tears glistened in her eyes.
"No, I only guessed. It's understandable, Jo. Doing what you do, I don't know how you could keep from it."
She moved off the cemented path and took a seat at a nearby picnic table. "Do you remember asking why I was jailed the second time?"
"Yeah." He sat down across from her.
"It wasn't really a jail, it only felt like one. I was in a psychiatric hospital for almost a month and then spent six more months in therapy because I drew my gun and almost shot another agent." She paused to swipe at the tears that managed to escape. "I would have killed him if two other agents hadn't tackled me, knocking the gun from my hand."
Austin could only imagine how hard it was for her to talk about this, and the fact that she was talking about it with him made him feel closer to her than he ever thought possible. "This case that brought all this on was it the one in Maine? The one you were working on when your father passed away?"
She nodded. "The doctors said it was a combination of stress on the job and the death of my dad that caused the psychotic episode, but I know differently. The guy that I'd been profiling had abducted and murdered twelve little girls. He tortured them, sexually abused them, and buried them alive in his own backyard."
"Wait a second…I know the case you're talking about. Jerald Williams, an autistic janitor at the school where some of the girls attended, confessed to the killings."
"He confessed, but he isn't the one who killed those little girls. The real killer is still out there."
"How can you be sure, I mean the guy confessed?"
"Because he was a part of me for four and a half months. He is the closest I've ever come to pure evil."
"Why would an innocent man confess to murders he didn't commit?"
"Duress, or because he was autistic and didn't understand the charges, I don't know. I do know, as sure as I'm sitting here, though, Jerald Williams wasn't capable of killing those little girls."
Austin reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Will you tell me what happened that day?"
"Aside from mandatory therapy and tidbits I've fed to Isaac, I've never discussed this case with anyone before."
"If you don't want to talk about it, Jo, I understand." He could only imagine how difficult it'd been on her. The pain and agony she'd experienced through the victims, not to mention what she'd felt from the killer. He suspected such a case would haunt her for years, especially knowing he was still out there.
"I'd gotten a call from my brother a couple of days before, telling me about my dad," she
began, her voice quivering. "I'd planned to fly out that morning for the funeral later that afternoon, but an hour before my flight, the chief of police called and informed me they had located a suspect. When he told me it was Jerald Williams, I knew right away they were wrong. I interviewed Williams myself just a few days before. I knew he wasn't the same man I'd been profiling. I tried to tell them this, but no one believed me. No one understood how I knew the things I told them about the killer. No one wanted to believe a cop was capable of such horror."
"Did you say a cop?"
"That's right. The guy was a detective with their homicide unit. He owned the boarding house where Jerald Williams lived. He was also the one who led the police to believe Williams was the killer when he told them he'd found a pair of little girl's panties in the trash out back of the boarding house. A little too convenient, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I'd say so. What happened to the cop? Is Williams still in jail?"
"Jerald Williams died from a brain aneurysm shortly after his arrest, and no one knows what happened to Detective Briggs. He resigned from the force, sold the boarding house and no one's heard from him since."
"So he got away with killing those little girls."
"Until he resurfaces, which I'm sure he will someday."
"You said you almost shot another agent. What happened?"
"When the chief told me they had a suspect and that Detective Briggs had found the panties, I knew I had to get to Williams before they did. When I arrived at the boarding house, I found Williams in the basement trying to free a little girl that had been abducted the previous morning. We'd just gotten the little girl free of the ropes when the basement door burst open and an agent came barging into the room. He said he identified himself as a federal agent, and he might have, I don't remember. All I remember is seeing him come through that door, and thinking he was the killer. I was on the verge of pulling the trigger when two other agents tackled me."
"Couldn't the little girl testify that Williams wasn't the man who abducted her?"
"She was too traumatized. To this day, she hasn't spoken a word, and I doubt she'll ever recover." She met his gaze across the table. "I sometimes wonder if she'd been better off if we hadn't found her alive."
