by Mary Stone
And she was.
Because of him, the length of her painstaking search would be dramatically shortened.
Now, she just had to mentally justify taking out a man who proclaimed himself to be the protector of women and girls.
Her stomach soured, and she didn’t want her coffee anymore.
37
As he watched Winter step up to the wooden podium at the front of the briefing room—a place he had begun to think of as a second home—Aiden felt his lips curl into a smile.
Though Winter credited Autumn with planting the idea in her head, she had been the one to crack open the case, to put all the puzzle pieces into their proper places. This was Winter’s moment, but he had helped her get here.
The path had been twisted and messy, but after all the conflicted feelings, all the spite and irritability, all the bickering, all the pointless competitions, they had emerged on the other side. And now, she was about to announce to some of the FBI’s brightest that she had discovered the identity of the serial killer they’d been hunting.
Despite the pressure of the media circus through which they had tiptoed since the death of Tyler Haldane, Winter had prevailed. He was proud of how far she had come, and he could only imagine how much further she had left to go.
She looked so poised and professional as she began to speak. “The Norfolk Executioner is why we’re here. Last night, he killed his tenth victim in the state of Virginia, and his twentieth in the country as a whole…that we know of. But last night, he left a witness. Today, just before this briefing, that witness picked this man out of a photo lineup.”
What Winter didn’t share was that, once she’d narrowed down the list of suspects to Army Rangers with Artemis tattoos, the rest of the investigation had been easy. To put icing on the cake, young Emma did indeed point to their suspect only an hour ago, tears pouring down her face.
The girl was as conflicted about the killer as the rest of them.
But she’d done the right thing.
With a light click, the overhead projector brought to life the image of a driver’s license.
“That’s him,” Sun said. She was seated across the room at the side of Bobby Weyrick, a man she had been close to in almost every meeting they’d had about the case so far. But even as Aiden mulled over the possibility that the two had engaged in a secretive affair, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Winter nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. That’s Augusto Lopez, a twenty-year veteran of the Army Rangers. He left the military about nine years ago when he was thirty-eight, and ever since then, he’s worked in forensics. He was stationed in Fort Hood when he left, which is why he stuck around the Dallas area.
“Not too long before Augusto retired from the Army, his daughter went missing. The main suspect was the man she’d accused of molesting her over the summer that year, her maternal uncle. The cops in Killeen weren’t able to find anything they could use to tie him to the crime, but they still tried to push it through a grand jury. The guy denied everything from the get-go, and since it had taken her a little while to come forward about it, there wasn’t much physical evidence.
“The grand jury didn’t have enough to indict, and about nine months after that, Augusto’s wife, Tina Lopez, killed herself. She committed suicide while he was deployed to Afghanistan, and from what I heard from a couple family friends, he blamed himself for it. He took the loss of his family pretty hard, and he became withdrawn. Honestly, I don’t think any of us can blame him for that.
“The cops questioned Augusto once his wife’s brother went missing, but they never found the guy’s body. A year after that, the first rapist outside Killeen was shot in the head with a Heckler & Koch G36 rifle. No shell casing, no footprints, fingerprints, nothing. Then, six months later.” Winter paused to glance at Chloe Villaruz.
“Same weapon,” Villaruz put in. “He killed three more with the same weapon, and then he left it at the scene of the fourth murder. Same as that Barrett rifle you guys found. No serial number, just absolutely nothing. Our theory was that if he was involved in law enforcement, he might’ve known an arms dealer affiliated with one of the cartels. That might be where he got the G36 and the M98B.”
“Right.” Winter nodded. “We’ve handed both weapons off to the ATF. Chances are, they won’t get anywhere with them, but the arms dealer that sold them to Augusto isn’t our jurisdiction.”
Aiden kept the sentiment to himself, but he was glad that they didn’t have to deal with the Mexican drug cartels.
Chasing a serial killer was one thing but chasing after someone like Pablo Escobar was an entirely different ballgame. Their office had been thrown into enough of a tizzy when Sun was labeled as a potential suspect for Tyler Haldane’s murder. He couldn’t imagine work in a field so dangerous and volatile that even other federal agents were untrustworthy.
“Emma Olmsted said that he talked about the Greek goddess Artemis,” Winter added, pressing the controller to bring up the next photo. “This is a tattoo on the inside of Augusto’s forearm. It’s a bow and arrow, and it’s a symbol associated with Artemis.”
“Good work, Agent Black,” Max announced. “We’ve got a warrant for Augusto Lopez’s arrest, and we’ll be meeting with the tactical team in about ten minutes to discuss how we’ll be executing that warrant. I think by now we all know how dangerous this man can be. We might’ve found him, but we aren’t out of the woods just yet.”
Aiden had started to shake his head before the older SAC even finished. “No,” he said. “He might be dangerous, but I don’t think he’s dangerous to us. Emma Olmsted told us he saw her, and he let her go. If he was really dead set on escaping, we would have found her dead along with Marco Yarr. Same with Gina Traeger. She might not have cooperated with us, but we know that she saw him too.”
“He’s right,” Autumn put in. “I’ve been here all morning looking over this guy’s information. I’m here for threat assessment, remember? Augusto Lopez is only a threat to the people on his list. He told Emma Olmsted to ‘do what you think is right.’ Does that sound like a man who’s going to open fire on a bunch of cops to you?”
As he glanced over to Autumn, Aiden could hardly keep the self-assured smirk from his face. Nine o’clock had not yet rolled around, but he knew today would be a good day.
When I saw the black van circle the block the first time, I knew what was about to happen. I had already made my peace with my fate, be it life in prison or the death penalty.
My advice for Emma Olmsted to do the right thing had been sincere, and the girl hadn’t disappointed. It would have been easy enough for her to bury her head in the sand and pretend that nothing had happened, but she had chosen the more difficult path—the right path.
How could I fault her for that?
I didn’t like to follow the news articles about the men I’d killed. When I crossed out their names, I was done with them. But no matter how hard I tried to avoid the television segments and online news updates, I knew the level of attention I had attracted.
The entire country was fixated on Richmond, and I was the reason for their obsession.
As I straightened the photo of me, Tina, and Evie on the mantle of the fireplace, I paused.
There wasn’t a place for someone like me in a civilized society. I had been promoted a couple times in the lab where I worked, but there was only one skill at which I had ever truly excelled.
That skill was death, and there was no place for a killer like me in the civilized world.
Before I lost my girls, I had a family to tether me to reality. But now, it felt like I drifted from place to place like an apparition. My ties to the moral world were gone, and the time had come for me to face my fate.
Even though there hadn’t been a BOLO put out on me yet, I’d been doing this long enough to understand what the cops weren’t saying…they were coming for me.
But first, I had a few more things to attend to.
Before the door of the black panel va
n that had just pulled up outside slid open, I shot Greg Winstead in the head and pushed him from the second story window where I’d taken up residence as soon as the chatter on the police scanner grew more excited. I’d already pinned a notecard to the rapist’s shirt, listing the names of his victims.
Honoring all six of the girls this man had emotionally and physically destroyed.
Maybe those women might be able to sleep a little better tonight.
I sure hoped so.
Because as I turned and looked into the eyes of the terrified men shackled to the steel pole I’d installed along the wall of the bedroom, I knew I’d sleep a little better tonight too.
I grinned.
“Russell Peterson…it’s time to pay for your crimes.”
38
Winter’s heart slammed in her chest as the sound of a gunshot echoed in her ears.
Before she could respond, she was yanked back into the van, the heavy metal door narrowly missing her sneakered toes as it slammed shut.
Scrambling to her feet, Winter caught the blur of something dropping from the pristine farmhouse they’d just approached.
“Shit,” Noah muttered, his fist still holding the back of her Kevlar vest.
Even while he tried to yank her down, Winter fought to look out the window. “Let me go!”
He didn’t, but he loosened his hold. “Who the fuck is that?”
Who?
Getting a better look at the thing on the ground, Winter realized Noah was right. It was a who. A person. More specifically, a man.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked harder, trying to see past the blood and gore. “But it’s not Augusto Lopez.”
Even through the walls of the van, Winter heard a noise that raised the hair on her arms.
Screaming. Terrible screaming.
“What—” Noah shouted.
Another gunshot drowned out whatever else he was going to say. Everyone in the van grew quiet, watching, waiting. Seconds later, another body fell.
This time, Winter noticed the notecard pinned to the front of the man’s shirt. She immediately knew what it was.
Shit.
“He’s finishing what he started,” Winter said before yelling at the driver, “Fall back, fall back,” then held on tight as the van spun in the gravel before catching surface and jerking backward at rapid speed.
Other vans, police cars…a virtual army of law enforcement vehicles converged on the scene. Noah grabbed the radio, ordering the others to fall back as well. The next few moments were chaos as the situation was assessed.
“Agent Black, report.” She recognized Aiden’s voice right away.
Scrambling to get out of the stifling van, using it as a shield, she inhaled a deep breath of air before lifting her mic to her lips. “Black reporting.”
But before she could finish the words, Aiden was at her side, sweat dotting his temples from his dash from the second van on the scene. She was about to tell him that he hadn’t needed to hurry because, while Augusto Lopez had killing on his mind, she didn’t think his targets were on this side of that window.
Another gunshot vibrated through the air.
Another body fell.
“Shit,” she muttered. “We have to do something.”
She looked around.
The house was a perfect sniper hide, she realized. Sitting high on a hill, the lovely farmhouse had been stripped of all the trees that would have given it shade over the past century. Neat stacks of wood set beside a small outbuilding to the side.
The stumps where those trees once stood looked fresh, and Winter could almost see the soldier cutting them down. Whether it was to take away any tactical advantage law enforcement would gain to access the upper story of the home or remove an avenue of escape for the hostages he held, she wasn’t sure.
Probably both.
Noah stepped out of the van, still talking rapidly into his mic, directing the teams.
They would be too late, she knew.
Another gunshot.
Winter whipped her head around, squinting against the sun as she watched another body fall from the upper window. She also saw the shadow of Lopez, but only for the slightest moment.
Pain ripped through her skull, and she teetered to one side.
Hands caught her arms, but she didn’t need them to steady her. The vision was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Seven more,” she whispered into Aiden’s concerned eyes.
Noah whipped around, his gaze flicking between her and the SSA. Annoyance was replaced by the same mask of concern.
It pissed her off.
Ripping her arm out of Aiden’s grip, she forced her legs to hold her up, swiping at the drop of blood she felt run down to her upper lip.
“We don’t have much time,” she said, relieved that her voice held more strength.
She could still see the men shackled to the steel pole. Still see the three sets of shackles that now lay on the floor. The men were terrified, but Winter couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for them.
Murderers.
Rapists.
Child molesters.
Augusto Lopez was taking out the trash.
While one part of her wanted to cheer him on, she knew he had to be stopped.
No man could be judge, jury, and executioner.
If they let one man get away with it, how many would follow?
Laws were there for a reason, she reminded herself, thinking back to the criminal justice classes she’d sat through not all that long ago. The six main functions of law were to keep peace in a country, shape moral standards, promote social justice, facilitate orderly change, provide a basis for compromise, and to help in facilitating a plan.
Winter had promised to, “Well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”
A lawless land was a peaceless land. And more than anything, Winter wanted peace.
Though Winter wasn’t sure what she thought of the subject, she muttered, “God, help me now.”
Both Aiden and Noah stared at her, concern still clear in their eyes.
Aiden spoke first. “What are you thinking?”
A gunshot.
Winter didn’t even turn, just closed her eyes when the body slammed into the ground.
“I’m thinking six. And I’m thinking we don’t have much time until there are zero.”
“What does Lopez want?” Noah asked.
He was thinking in terms of a hostage situation, but Winter knew better.
“He wants to finish this, finish them.”
Aiden was scanning the landscape. “There’s no tactical advantage. We’ll have to ram the door.”
Winter straightened. “That won’t be necessary.”
Before either man could say a word or grab her, she took off in a sprint, heading toward the covered porch. She feared having another dead body fall on her more than she feared being shot at. But she was on the porch before another gunshot sounded, and the body she feared splattered on the ground well behind her.
Five.
“Winter!”
She heard approaching footsteps but didn’t wait, instead opening the front door. It wasn’t locked.
Noah burst in behind her, cursing words that would normally make her ears burn, but she was taking the steps two at a time. She was only halfway up when another gunshot made her jump, automatically crouch, if nothing more than from instinct.
“Four,” she muttered. A countdown of the worse kind.
Or the best. Winter didn’t like the little voice whispering in her ear.
Noah was right behind her now, and she could hear other footsteps running into the home.
Bam!
Three.
Winter wasn’t foolish enough to run straight into the room. Lopez didn’t appear to be interested in hurting anyone besides the people he held hostage, but she didn’t know how attached he’d be to finishing the job, stopping an
yone who might get in his way of handing out the justice he so very clearly thought these men deserved.
She placed her back to one side of the door while Noah moved into position on the other side, gun at the ready, daggers of pure anger hurtling her way.
“Augusto Lopez!” she called. “FBI. Drop your weapon. You’re surr—”
Bam!
Two.
“Shit,” Noah said before adding a few other choice words.
SWAT was coming up the stairs, and Winter knew they’d do their job with deadly force. Even while Noah shook his head furiously at her, she reached for the doorknob.
Bam!
One.
Closing her eyes, she turned the knob and pushed the door in. Still growling under his breath, Noah went in first before she could stop him. She was on his heels, stopping in her tracks at the carnage before her.
Knowing his time was close to an end, Lopez had stopped pushing the men from the windows. Hell, he apparently no longer cared that they were shackled. The last two slumped, only their chains holding them up.
“Drop your weapon,” Noah shouted.
Lopez just smiled, kept his gun at the last man’s head. And pulled the trigger.
I’d done what I’d set out to do. Not all of it, maybe. I could have helped society so much more. But I could leave this earth knowing I’d done the very best I could.
I knew this day was coming, and a part of me wished I’d thought of chaining these bastards up sooner. One bullet through their heads from a distance wasn’t really punishment enough. But luring them to my house—and they were so easily lured—had them pissing their pants like the little pussies they were.
I’d managed to get ten before this day arrived. I’d hoped to have twenty. Fifty. A hundred.
Ten would have to do.
When the agents burst into the bedroom, I’d made my peace with God. I’d smiled up to the heavens, whispering to Tina and Evie that I’d see them real soon.
I was ready.
Well, almost. I had to distribute justice to Amanda Harris, Jillian Sizemore, Amy Rebstock, and Sandra Palmer first. Even as I stared down the barrel of two weapons, I pulled the trigger of mine, wiping the whimpering scum ball who’d raped and molested those innocent girls from the face of the earth.
