He shouldered through the door and onto the walkway separating the outdoor area from the main building. Protecting his face against the violent waves cascading over the pier’s railings and across the wooden planks, he sprinted for safety and down the steps into the underwater dome exhibit. The roar of the ocean died as he slammed the door closed behind him. The surface of the water visible through the grid-like construction around the dome churned faster with the intensity of the storm, but the creatures closing in on the glass showed no signs of panic. Shadows shifted across the floor as he descended deeper into the exhibit, weapon raised.
Warning climbed his spine as he stepped down into the lower level of the wraparound viewing point. The lights flickered once again then died, throwing him into a dark underwater world full of surprises and threats.
A moan reached his ears, and Nicholas turned to his right. He couldn’t see a damn without the overhead lights and planted his hand against the cold glass keeping thousands of tons of water from crushing him to death to guide him. His eyesight adjusted to the shadows in slow increments, every sense he owned heightened to compensate. Heart thudding at the base of his neck, he recognized an outline against the inner wall of the viewing area. Unmoving. “Striker!”
Holstering his weapon, Nicholas dropped to one knee and patted the agent’s frame for the tactical flashlight she’d clipped to her vest earlier. His fingers brushed over cool metal, and he hit the power button. The beam cast straight into the floor beside the missing persons expert but gave him enough light to see the sticky trail of blood running along one side of her face. Madeline’s hands had been secured to the railing above her with zip ties. He wedged her chin between his thumb and index finger. Rich, dark eyes reflected the flashlight’s beam, her pupils constricting in response. “Striker, can you hear me?”
“James...” The muscles in her throat flexed as she swallowed. “It was an ambush. He attacked me from behind. He knew we were coming.”
“I know.” Pulling the blade still strapped in his ankle holster, one of the few things he’d hadn’t lost at sea, he straightened to cut through the ties around the agent’s wrists. “Where are West and Dr. Flood?”
“He already had Dash when he secured me to the railing. He’s over there. I tried to stay conscious, but...” Motioning with her chin up the stairs, she rubbed the inflamed skin around her wrists close to her chest. “Dr. Flood was with you.”
A deeper groan punctured through the darkness.
“We got separated after we found Paige Cress’s body.” Nicholas hiked up the three steps to the main level of the underwater dome and caught sight of West zip-tied to another section of railing. Crouching in front of the cybercrimes agent, he cut the ties around West’s wrists and caught him before he slumped to the floor. Striker moved into his peripheral vision, and the crush of failure to protect his team—to protect Aubrey—pulverized what confidence he had left. “The bastard took her.”
“You think she’s the reason the killer lured us here? That he’s picking us off one by one to get her alone?” It was as though Striker had read his mind. She pulled West’s head into her lap and smoothed the blood from his temple. The tough yet compassionate missing persons expert had gone out of her way to keep her emotional distance from others, but when it came to the BAU and the people she cared about, he trusted Striker to do whatever it took to protect them. She handed him her flashlight. “Go. He took our phones, but I’ll get West back to the SUV and call this in over the radio. Find Dr. Flood. If she’s the one he wants, then she needs you to have her back.”
Nicholas headed back toward the main doors and out into the storm. “He can’t have her.”
* * *
IT WAS HARD to breathe.
Aubrey gasped as pain pulled her from unconsciousness. She jerked against the binding around her wrists and ankles, and the sound of chains hitting against one another echoed in her ears. Pressure built in her head and intensified the ache in her chest, like all her organs had been shoved up inside her chest cavity. She forced her eyes open and was immediately blinded by the bright light aimed at her face.
“Absolutely perfect,” he said. “Just like your sister.”
That voice. She recognized it from the docks, before her attacker had knocked her unconscious. Disorientation messed with her head, and she realized she’d been hung upside down. Cracks in the cement floor had been stained red beneath her. Aubrey tipped her chin toward her chest, studying the large, sharpened hook between her bare feet. The kind used in slaughterhouses. Fear clawed up her throat. Gravity battled the angle of her head, and she relaxed back into position. Her wrists had been secured before she’d been hung upside down. There was no escape. “You killed Paige Cress. You killed Kara.”
“They were perfect, don’t you think, Dr. Flood?” Footsteps echoed off the cement from behind. “It took me years of studying the X Marks the Spot Killer to get the marks he left on his victims’ cheeks just right. You might think carving something as simple as an X would be easy, but you use too much force and the blade perforates the masseter muscle. Use too little and you don’t get your point across.”
The man in the mask stepped into her line of vision, hints of salt and sea diving deep into her lungs. Dim lighting came through a boarded and dirt-crusted window to her right, but it was nothing compared to the reflection of the spotlight from the blade in her attacker’s hand. A nearby table registered. One he’d lined with surgical instruments. “I prefer a more human touch.”
Masseter muscle. Most people who hadn’t gone to medical school or studied anatomy would call it the cheek, but the killer seemed to have a medical background. When this was over, the BAU could use that information to narrow down possible suspects. Aubrey swallowed through the tightening in her throat and chest. When this was over...
She tugged at the zip ties around her wrists again. Nicholas had said this was a game to the killer, a show for him to get the attention he wanted from the public. Whoever’d killed Kara had fed off his victims’ fears. He wanted them to know he had power over them and that he could use that power at any time. He wouldn’t kill her quickly. He’d get more satisfaction from a slow kill, and that alone gave her hope the BAU—Nicholas—would find her in time. She just needed to keep the killer talking, give him a reason to talk about himself like any narcissist enjoyed. “Kara and Paige. They weren’t your only victims. How many others have there been?”
“Patience, Dr. Flood,” he said. “We have more than enough time to get to know each other.”
“You must have a process of choosing who will become one of your masterpieces, then. Why Paige Cress? Why Kara?” She studied the room as he circled around behind her. Hooks heavy enough to hold the weight of livestock, cement, boarded windows. An abandoned slaughterhouse. The scent of the ocean said they were still along the coast, possibly north of the waterfront where he’d abducted her. In the warehouse district.
“Ah, beautiful, beautiful Paige. She had this unique habit of remembering funny moments and laughing hysterically in the middle of long silences, especially at funerals. Things no one else would remember or would think were funny.” Her attacker tucked the scalpel behind his leg, out of sight as he circled her again. “She’d go out of her way to make the people around her laugh, just to bring a bit of sunshine to their day. Given the kind of work she did for one of the biggest criminal defense law firms in the city, it makes sense. She was trying to compensate for all the evil in the world, evil she helped spread by working for those lawyers. I think her outward sense of humor was her way of making up for it, but it was her smile that caught my attention the first time we met. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make her my own masterpiece. No matter how many times I tried to turn her into something they would remember, she wasn’t good enough for what I have in mind.”
“So you used the Gingerbread Woman’s MO instead.” Aubrey curled her fingers into the center of her palms and p
ressed her knuckles together to test the strength of the zip ties. She’d been unconscious when he’d bound her, and it’d been impossible to ensure any slack in the ties, but despite what many people believed, zip ties could be broken with enough pressure. “You knew her. Paige Cress.”
“Of course I knew her, Dr. Flood. I loved her.” The killer stopped in front of her, cocking his head to one side. “I loved the way she talked about the books she’d read, how she’d tuck herself in at night by cocooning herself in heavy blankets, even in the middle of the summer. Sometimes, I’d watch her fall asleep through her bedroom window, and I’d get this glimpse of sadness right before she closed her eyes. The same thing happened when I suffocated her with her own blazer. You see, that moment, the one right before the light leaves their eyes, that’s when you see someone for who they really are. That’s when you get to know them the best.”
Tears burned in Aubrey’s eyes. “And Kara? Did you see who she really was before you finished strangling her?”
A low laugh shook her attacker’s shoulders as he disappeared behind her once again. Pain exploded across her scalp as he fisted a handful of her hair and craned her neck back toward her spine. “I know what you’re trying to do, Dr. Flood.” His breath warmed against the side of her face, and she automatically flinched, but he held her in place. He smoothed his hand across her cheek. “But I can assure you, trying to get me to revel in my kills won’t delay my plans for you. I chose you, Aubrey. Paige and Kara, they were exactly what I needed them to be, stand-ins until I was ready to make my own mark, but you... You’re going to be my masterpiece. You’re going to be my introduction to the world.”
Terror increased the pain in her sinuses, and he released her. The chains holding her to the ceiling protested as she swayed away from her captor. Her plan had failed, but she wouldn’t give up. She wouldn’t stop fighting. “Why? Why me?”
“I know about your work with the X Marks the Spot Killer and the BAU, Dr. Flood.” The killer turned his back to her, a mountainous mass of muscle across his shoulders and arms flexing as he moved. Directing his focus to the table, he studied the selection of surgical instruments as though weighing each option. “I know it was you who narrowed down the type of weapon Cole Presley had used on his victims, and I know why it was so important to you to find him.”
Aubrey pressed her knuckles together as hard as she could, and the zip ties around her wrists snapped. She bit back the moan elicited by the shot of pain, and she jerked to catch the ties before they fell to the floor. The chains above gave away her movement, but she managed to keep the tie secure against her back. Her hands were free, but she’d have to lift her feet high enough to unhook the double-banded ties around her ankles. She curled her upper body toward her feet, gravity fighting against her abdominal muscles. She just had to reach her feet. That was it, and she could escape. “You’ve been watching me.”
The man in the mask gripped one of the tools, bringing it to eye level. The spotlight bounced off the stainless steel and reflected straight back into her face. She wouldn’t be able to move fast enough. Even if she’d managed to somehow curl up enough to grip the chains, her captor would reach her first, but she had to try. “Watching, learning, admiring. You devote everything to giving the families of the dead under your scalpel the answers they need. That was why you spent hour after hour trying to find a weapon that matched the Xs on the victims’ faces. You put their loved ones’ needs before your own, no matter how exhausted you were or how many meals you missed. You wanted them to be at peace, and you sacrificed your own health and well-being to provide that for them. You’re selfless and well-meaning, but there’s a downside to sacrificing your needs for others.”
The killer faced her, his shoulders slumping as though she’d disappointed him in trying to escape, and Aubrey uncoiled. He stepped toward her, the scalpel in his hand. “You believe if you give everyone you care about your complete devotion, they’ll love you in return, but you know as well as I do, that’s not how the world works.”
Her stomach revolted. He was profiling her, just as Nicholas had done to him. Every muscle in her body burned. Her mouth dried as the truth surfaced. “You’re lying. You can’t possibly know that by studying me from a distance.”
“You’re right in a way, Dr. Flood.” He took another step, slowly closing the space between them. “There’s a reason I befriended Kara before transforming her into one of my experiments, you see. I couldn’t get what I needed from your parents. They’re getting older, they don’t trust new people in their lives at this point and, to be honest, I don’t think they would put up much of a fight when it came right down to it. Kara was my obvious choice to learn as much about you as I could, and she didn’t disappoint in the least. Now, here we are.”
Kara? Her sister had been strangled and mutilated as a tool to get to her? Bile pooled in her esophagus. “One of these days, you’ll be one of the bodies on my examination table. Whatever pain you put my sister through, I promise yours will be much worse.”
The killer raised the scalpel toward her neck and pressed the blade into her skin. Stinging pain sizzled for the briefest of moments before blood trickled along the underside of her chin and dripped to the cement floor. “No, Dr. Flood. I won’t. Because I need you to be my masterpiece.”
Chapter Eight
He’d cleared the entire aquarium. Aubrey wasn’t here.
The storm battered against him and worked cold straight through muscle and deep into his bones. Nicholas spun on the spot, searching for movement—anything—that might tell him where the killer had taken her. Another wave crashed against the pier and dumped almost enough water to sweep his feet right out from under him. He couldn’t stay out here. The storm was only getting worse. He had to think. “Where the hell are you, woman?”
Aubrey had been the killer’s target all along. That meant something, but the buzz in his head and the panic clawing up his throat were getting in the way of rational thought. He needed somewhere quiet, somewhere he could deep dive and lay out the facts of the case without all the chaos and urgency closing in. He needed Aubrey.
One touch. That was all it’d taken for her to calm the rage and defeat he’d tried to control since learning Cole Presley had been the killer he’d imagined catching as a kid. The memory of Aubrey’s fingers framing his jaw, of her honey-warm eyes staring straight into his, surfaced, and his nervous system quieted. Nicholas closed his eyes against the rage of the storm and turned his face up to the driving rain. “You couldn’t have gotten far.”
He recalled the fight between him and the killer, the way his attacker had moved, his voice, what he’d said. Dr. Flood is going to be my masterpiece. The son of a bitch wanted to make a show of introducing himself to the world. He was desperate for someone to take notice of him. No. He wanted the BAU to take notice of him, the unit that had brought down the X Marks the Spot Killer and several other serial offenders. The killer wanted to prove himself worthy, but that didn’t give Nicholas a location.
Blood pulsed behind his ears, drowning out the roar of the storm. Aubrey’s phantom touch chased back the deep cold flooding through him, as real as the apparitions of victims. As much as her abductor wanted to be in the spotlight, he would need somewhere private, possibly abandoned to make an example of the medical examiner, but not someplace so remote that the BAU would never find her. Sifting through his knowledge of the area, Nicholas opened his eyes and faced the storm.
Clouds rolled low over the warehouse district directly north of his position. He took a single step forward. The area was secluded, far enough from residential witnesses that might see or hear something suspicious. An old slaughterhouse had been abandoned due to a handful of lawsuits over the years. The swinery had been forced out by growing businesses around the property. It was close enough for a muscular man of the suspect’s size to haul an unconscious woman on foot. “Gotcha.”
Nicholas raced into the
parking lot, heading straight for his SUV. He ripped open the door and collapsed inside. Within seconds, he’d started the ignition, fishtailed out of the lot and sped toward the warehouse. Hints of Aubrey’s perfume filled his lungs, but they couldn’t soothe the fear of what he’d find in that warehouse if he was too late. He’d already lost too many victims to killers like Cole Presley. He couldn’t lose her, too. Because despite the little time they’d worked the X Marks the Spot Killer case together and her discovering her sister’s body this morning, Aubrey Flood had already slid past his defenses and anchored under his skin.
The killers he hunted, the agents he’d partnered with over the years—they’d all had an agenda of their own, but not Aubrey. She’d sacrificed her own happiness, her own needs, in order to help strangers cope with their loss and to find the truth. Too many people wore a mask, pretended to be someone they weren’t, but the sincere warmth in her eyes and her friendly demeanor had carved a massive hole through his trust issues. She was the light he’d forgotten existed in his line of work. From the way she used cartoon quotes to deflect the emotional turmoil she carried to the fact she’d dedicated herself to making others see the positive qualities in themselves. He’d been drawn to her almost the instant they’d met in her morgue three years ago, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her abductor extinguish that light. “I’m coming, Doc.”
Rain hit the windshield the faster he pushed the SUV, the right side of his face stinging with embedded glass. The killer had meticulously planned how to isolate his prey. Whoever’d taken Aubrey was intelligent, patient and highly perceptive, and they weren’t going to give up their prize easily. Nicholas slammed on the brakes as the outline of the old slaughterhouse materialized through the watery streaks in the window. He shoved the SUV into Park and called for backup and an ambulance with the radio strapped to his dashboard. Just in case. Armed with the backup weapon he’d loaned Aubrey, he pushed out of the vehicle and closed the door quietly behind him. A single door stood out among two stories of cinder-block walls and roll-top doors, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe the killer hadn’t planned for an interruption to his game. He’d have to go around, come at this from another angle.
Profiling a Killer Page 9
