Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Chris nodded. Though he’d worked with Fuller years ago in the New York field office, she clearly didn’t know why he’d been run out of town. She was now the chief profiler at the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, a resource available to law enforcement dealing with serial or complex violent crimes. They’d spent the last few hours picking Fuller’s brain about possible suspects for the serious assault Hopkins was investigating. Chris needed their help in pursuing his killer, too, but he couldn’t exactly make an official request.

  “I’m sad to hear that, Chris.” Fuller gripped his shoulder. “You’re a good agent. You’ll get back on your feet. Just hang in there and stay out of trouble.”

  “Thanks Tina.” Chris placed a hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. “Just trying to keep busy and let things take their course. Thanks again.”

  Fuller smiled at both of them and then headed back to her office. Chris and Hopkins were left standing alone outside the meeting room. With a nod, Chris started down the hallway, Hopkins by his side.

  “How do you know her, anyway?” Hopkins spoke softly. “You two seemed friendly.”

  “We worked together for a while.” Chris shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “So you weren’t always the office pariah?” Hopkins laughed. “Did you ever date her?”

  “No.” Chris’s tone made it clear he didn’t want to talk about his dating history. After Tamara, he’d lost all interest in dating. He shook off the thought. “Okay, let’s go find James Miles. If anyone can find a suspect or spot something we’ve missed, it’s him.”

  They reached the exit of the main building and Chris pushed open the door. He was excited by the prospect of meeting with Miles again. They’d worked one case together, a decade ago, and now Miles worked some of the most difficult cases in America. If there was one man able to spot a pattern, observe signals, and help to develop both a working theory and a plan of attack, it was Miles.

  They reached a smaller building and Chris paused out the front. “Are you sure you want to come inside? I can take care of this if you want.”

  Hopkins frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? I came all the way here on a thin pretext just so you could have this meeting. There’s no way I’m going to miss it.”

  “Okay.” Chris shrugged. “But listen, this place is full of geniuses and he’s the most talented of them all. I’m sure he’ll see something we’ve missed all along, but he’s sensitive. He’s not going to be too happy taking the risk we’re about to ask him to take.”

  Hopkins reached out to open the door, then paused. “Why did he agree to help us at all if he’s so touchy?”

  “He owes me a favor.”

  Miles was an extreme introvert, whose profiling genius more than compensated for his social issues. He kept to himself unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to others. Once they were outside Miles’s office, Chris knocked on the door. He smiled as he heard footfalls from inside the office, then silence as Miles checked the peephole.

  “Yes?” The voice from the other side of the door was muffled, but easily understandable.

  “James?” Chris spoke louder than he’d like to. “It’s Chris Horan.”

  The door opened an inch, an eyeball appeared. “You can come in. She can’t.”

  Chris shook his head. “No deal. She’s my new partner. You can trust her.”

  “Wrong.” The door started to close.

  Chris managed to get his foot in the doorway. “James, remember Brooklyn.”

  “I—” The eyeball widened and the voice stuttered.

  “Exactly.” Chris pushed on the door firmly, forcing his way into Miles’ office.

  “Fine, fine.” Miles moved into the office, which was a mess of paper and books. “Sit.”

  Chris smiled, gestured for Hopkins to come inside and then closed the door behind her. They both took a seat and Chris looked Miles directly in the eye. “Now, let’s try this again. Thank you for meeting with us. We’re square now. I hope you’ve had a chance to look over the files I sent you?”

  “Yes, yes, I did. And you have my thanks for clearing our debt. I’ll do my best to help you with your particular problem.” Miles smiled and his eyes lit up. He stood suddenly and started to rush around the office. “Just let me find the file.”

  Chris smiled. He’d been the investigating agent on a minor cybercrime case a decade or so ago, and had chased it down to Miles. Chris had let it go, choosing not to ruin a career over something minor. Miles had kept his job and been squeaky clean ever since. In return, he’d told Chris that if he ever needed anything, he just needed to ask. Miles had risen to become one of the Center’s most brilliant profilers. Chris hoped he’d used the favor well.

  “So what do you think of the profile, James?” Hopkins spoke for the first time. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  Hopkins was right. They couldn’t stay here any longer than they absolutely needed to. He nodded. “Any light you can shine on the situation would help.”

  “Ha, found it.” Miles laughed as he sat and flicked rapidly through some papers. “Okay. I reviewed what you sent through. It might be a serial case. If so, it’s likely your killer has been wronged in the past by a woman or women who look like his victims. It’s likely they damaged him, and he either felt like dying or tried suicide.”

  Chris nodded. “That’s interesting, I—”

  Miles held up a hand. “Your killer is unsatisfied by the simple prospect of killing his victims. He destroys them first. To answer your next question, yes, I think the killings are linked – including your girlfriend – and there’s a long history. Now, in answer to your next question, I don’t have any clue about who it might be. I ran the check on the database. It came up empty.”

  Chris felt a red haze overcome him. The smartest profiler in the country had just confirmed what he’d long known, that it was highly likely that Tamara had been murdered by the same killer as all the others. Chris wasn’t insane. He wasn’t letting personal circumstances impact his judgement. He wasn’t a bad agent.

  He was right.

  There was a monster out there.

  “We need to get this guy. I need to get this guy.” Chris locked eyes on Miles. “We’re desperate for a lead, but it needs to be discreet.”

  “Investigating illegally, I understand.” Miles nodded. “If I had the time before you head back to Nebraska, I’d cross-reference the profile against crimes other than murder, hoping to find either your killer or victims who are still alive. But such a complex query would take several days. You have to get back, and I have other work.”

  “Let’s do that.” Chris smiled.

  “Chris…” The warning in Hopkins’ voice was clear. “We need to get back by tomorrow. We don’t have any more time to spend here.”

  “That’s fine.” Chris smiled. “We can just call you or Skype you in a couple of days and—”

  “No.” Miles held up a hand. “If you want me to do this, you stick around. I’ll run the query, give you the hard copy documents, and then destroy all the records.”

  Chris hesitated. He was supposed to return to Nebraska with Hopkins. But how could he pass up an opportunity to get valuable new information from one of the most talented profilers in the country? He mightn’t have this chance again. Without new information, there was no chance of a breakthrough on the case. He risked setting what remained of his career on fire for the chance at an identity.

  It was a shot he was willing to take.

  He leaned forward and smiled. “Run the query, including a cross-reference for victims named Ashley. I’ll stick around for a few days.”

  37

  Ashley

  Ashley leaned on the broom and ran a hand through her hair as she surveyed the store. It looked a hell of a lot better than it had an hour ago.

  Ashley had spent some time cleaning the store after opening up. There’d been few customers, leaving her plenty of time to get things in order, but the store still felt strange. Empty.
The quick clean-up had helped a little, but it still felt strange to be here. It was hard not to think of Jana, missing or captive or dead, while she stood among party dresses and blouses. The police still hadn’t found Jana, despite the cell phone video.

  The police had advised Ashley that they were done with the scene, and it was up to her whether she wanted to open the store or not. It wasn’t ideal, given Ashley had only worked there a few months and was the only other member of staff. Ashley had decided to open, though she’d changed her mind at least five times in the process. If nothing else, keeping the store going felt like a show of faith that Jana was alive.

  Ashley also felt like keeping the store in operation was an investment in herself. Since she’d been working there, she’d started getting her life together. She had a bit of money, and a small amount of access to Lucy. To be honest, Jana’s disappearance scared her for another reason, too. Ashley feared that another shock in her life would destabilize her, undoing all of the progress she’d made. This job had become an important piece of her own jigsaw, which felt like it was being put together for the first time in ages.

  If Jana wasn’t okay…

  The phone started to ring. With a sigh, Ashley walked back to the counter, propped the broom against it and answered the phone. It was a simple customer query. As she spoke, she flicked through the mail. None of it seemed overly urgent. Also on the counter was the CV she’d found earlier, which had been dropped underneath a clothes rack. She screwed it up and tossed it in the bin by her feet.

  The minute she placed the phone down, there was a loud knocking on the back door. Ashley froze. The pounding went on for several seconds and then stopped suddenly. Her mind screamed at her as she realized she was alone in the store. Nobody came to the back, not even couriers. Whoever had abducted Jana could easily have come back for Ashley. Her heartbeat quickened, her mouth went dry, she gripped the counter tightly. Although she wanted to ignore the knock, she knew she couldn’t. She had to find out who was out there.

  Ashley sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled quickly. She thought about calling the police, then had a flashback to the raccoon at her house. If she called the cops every time she heard a noise, she’d need them on speed dial. No, she had to handle this herself. Steeling herself, she reached under the counter and grabbed the baseball bat that was kept there in case of moments just like this. Though the weapon didn’t make Ashley feel any safer, it was better than nothing. She felt confident she could swing it hard enough to cause some pain.

  She walked to the front door and locked it, then slowly inched toward the back door, gripping the bat tightly. Her legs felt shaky and her ears strained for any sound, but there was nothing. She told herself it had just been a courier, or some kids playing a prank. Or maybe it was Jana, her abductor having finished with her, in bad shape but alive. Or maybe it was Jana’s abductor, on the lookout for another victim.

  Ashley didn’t care. It had been a mistake coming to the store on her own. She was terrified. No matter how much she tried to live a quiet life, it seemed like trouble followed her. She was tired of feeling afraid, but she had to know what was on the other side of the door. Once she reached the door she braced her foot against the bottom of it, paused for a few short breaths, then peered through the peephole. All she could see was the grey brick wall on the other side of the alley.

  Ashley made her decision. Time seemed to slow as she inched open the door with one hand and gripped the bat with the other. Her eyes widened. Jana was lying on her back with unseeing eyes staring at the sky. She was clearly dead, and her body looked like it had been badly abused. There were cuts, burns, and bruises all over her. Ashley closed the door and locked it as fast as she could.

  Ashley leaned against the door, gripping the bat tightly. She fumbled for her cell phone and dialed 911. Ashley spoke with the dispatcher on autopilot, her mind racing. Whoever had abducted and killed Jana had returned the body. Why? Ashley wondered if it was some sort of fetish, or if there was a deeper meaning. Either way, she didn’t feel safe. She wasn’t going to move an inch until the police got here, and then she was going to go home.

  She’d never return to this store again.

  38

  Duncan

  “It’s good to be back.” Duncan spoke softly to himself as he approached his target.

  The last time he’d been here, he’d taken dozens of photographs of Ashley while she chased after a raccoon. Now it was time for another visit to her house. A closer visit. He looked around, alert for anyone else, or any sign he was being watched, but there was nothing. The street was quiet, but still he was careful. He walked down the drive. Once he reached the backyard, which was little more than a patch of grass and a small patio table, Duncan paused to look around. The moon provided enough illumination that he could see a small window, which looked like it led to a bathroom.

  Duncan looked around one more time as he approached the window. As quietly as he could, he jimmied it in its frame. It was no good. The window was stuck tight. Short of breaking the glass, which would be too noisy, he couldn’t pull it out of the frame. Not unless he dealt with the frame, anyway. Smiling, he grabbed a screwdriver from his pocket and used it to pry the frame away. Then he removed the glass.

  He quickly climbed inside the window, laughing at the fallacy that anyone could be safe in their home. He’d always wondered how anyone could believe that, when it was so easy for a predator like him to break in.

  He’d half expected to arrive here and find the house empty, Ashley having fled after finding her dead manager in the alleyway outside her work. But here she was, waiting like a dumb hen as the fox drew closer. The thought made him smile. This time, he had the control.

  His feet landed on the tiles and he caught his breath, using the light on his cell phone to illuminate the room. It turned out to be a laundry room, not a bathroom. Ashley’s dirty clothing was scattered around the washing machine. The dryer was similarly covered. All up, there was probably a full week’s worth of dirty laundry scattered around, which Duncan took his time picking through. He’d been right about her bra size, but wrong about her other measurements.

  “Oh, Ashley.” He scolded her as he picked up the skimpiest thong he’d ever seen. It confirmed all his beliefs about her.

  He opened the door, then used the light from his cell phone to begin the search of her house. He started in the living room. He rifled through drawers, but there was nothing worth his time. On the coffee table he found a stack of bills, some other mail, and a photo album. He lifted the album and stuffed it into his backpack. He found little of use in Ashley’s dining room, bathroom, or in the spare bedrooms.

  With only the room she was sleeping in left to search, Duncan was very disappointed. Though he hadn’t expected to find a great trove of information lying around, he had hoped for more. He paused outside of her bedroom for just a moment, killed the light on his phone, took a deep breath, and then slowly turned the doorknob. Thankfully, the door opened silently. His night vision was shot, thanks to the light on his phone, but the fluorescent numbers on her alarm clock projected just enough light for him to see her.

  “Bitch.” Duncan hissed the words in a soft whisper, then clenched his teeth hard to keep from saying any more.

  Thankfully, Ashley didn’t stir, despite Duncan’s momentary lapse. She stayed in exactly the same position, curled into a small ball in the far corner of the bed, only her legs covered by the sheets. He could see the top half of her body clearly. He became both enraged and aroused by the sight of her naked breasts in the dim green fluorescent light. He shook his head to clear the thought that shouted in his head: it’d be all too easy to just end her right now. He’d known he’d be tempted, but he needed to show some self-control.

  That self-control didn’t stop him from creeping around to the other side of her bed, crouching down, and inhaling her scent. He devoured her with his eyes, every poorly lit inch of her better than any photo. Most thrilling of all was the soft snore
she emitted, completely oblivious to the predator just inches from her.

  He allowed himself this moment of indulgence, and then got back to work. He picked up her cell phone from the table beside her, making sure it was on silent, then he grabbed her purse. He quietly stuffed both into his backpack and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  He’d finished his search, but wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He stood in the middle of the living room for several minutes, thinking. Torturing and killing her boss was the first step, a way to scare Ashley while also getting more information about her. He needed to strike again, to make her feel even less sure. He wanted her so traumatized that she trusted nobody and believed in nothing. Only then would she feel the pain she deserved. The pain she, more than all the other women, truly deserved.

  Shaking his head to get his mind back in the game, Duncan dug through his backpack for the half gallon bottle he’d packed. Then he hefted the backpack, opened the bottle, and started pouring its contents slowly around the living room – on the floor, the furniture, and the curtains. When the bottle was empty he tossed it on the floor. With a quick glance at Ashley’s bedroom door, he walked into the kitchen, washed his hands carefully, then walked back to the living room.

  He dug through his pockets for the zippo lighter, flicked it open, and then walked slowly across the room to the window. It seemed fitting to start the fire using the curtains she’d installed after her scare with the raccoon. She’d obviously felt like someone was watching her.

  He held the lighter to the curtain. The flame caught the accelerant he’d poured over it and rushed quickly toward the ceiling. Duncan smiled as he walked to the front door, tossing the zippo on the floor on his way out. He could already feel the heat from the flames as they started to roar behind him.

  As he unlocked the front door and walked outside, he reached for his cell phone.