Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  “Good thing you got that horrible flu.” Hopkins smiled as she scanned the various piles. “What now?”

  Chris crossed his arms. “Plenty. I have a list of women who may have crossed paths with the killer. Each was the victim of a lesser crime at the hands of a perp who fits the profile, was either a suspect or arrested, and has other point-in-time hits with our other cities and cases. We need to speak to the women and refine those results.”

  Hopkins looked up at Chris. “And figure out who has pole position in the murderer stakes?”

  Chris nodded. “Precisely.”

  Hopkins whistled as her eyes continued to dance across the piles. “So we’ve at least twelve murders in California, Florida, Illinois, Massachusetts and New York locked in. Each fits the timeline and the profile. In the gaps, we’ve got two lesser crimes where both the victim and the attacker fit the profile.”

  Chris grinned. “And where a suspect was identified or arrested. If we figure out which of those more minor crimes were committed by our killer, we can link it all together.”

  “One sexual assault in California, a decade ago.” Hopkins flicked through the relevant pages. “Another in Colorado.”

  “Miles was pretty sure one of those is our link and our guy.” Chris let it hang in the air for a moment. “I’m thinking we might actually crack this damned thing.”

  Chris believed that for the first time in months. When he’d been staking out the homes of potential victims in New York City, he’d been acting blind and hoping for some luck. He’d had some, but then the killer had escaped anyway, costing Manny his health and Chris his career. With the help of Hopkins and Miles, he felt like he was finally on the cusp of catching this cockroach who’d kept a low profile and devastated women for a decade.

  “In that case, Chris, I think we should tell the bosses and bring the rest of the Bureau in on this.” She locked eyes with him and raised her eyebrows slightly. “I understand why you’ve had to freelance, and it’s been great to work with you on this, but if we want to actually catch the guy and lock him up, we have to do it properly.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She frowned. “Chris, I covered for your absence and I’ve put my own career at risk to help you. We’ve done great work building a case, now we need to share it.”

  Chris repeated himself. “No, I—”

  She held up a hand. “If you won’t do it, I will. We need to rejoin the fold or else we’re going to lose the killer, and probably our jobs.”

  Chris’s mouth opened, but he bit back the words. He needed to keep her on side, and keep his superiors in the dark. He was about to respond to plead with her to keep their secret, when his cell phone started to ring. His eyes narrowed when he saw the caller ID. “I need to take this. Can you just give me a couple of days before you tell anyone?”

  “A couple of days. No problem.” Her look suggested there was a problem, but she stood and left the room without a word.

  Chris waited until he was alone and then answered the call. He’d never really expected to hear from this person again. “Hi Manny.”

  “Chris.” The other man’s voice was cold and distant. “I hope things are going well in Nebraska?”

  Chris faked a laugh. “Well, the Cornhuskers won a few days back, and I haven’t been fired yet, so it’s not all bad.”

  There was a pause. “Chris, I don’t want things to stay the way they are between us. I forgive you, okay?”

  Chris was stunned by his former partner’s words. As he’d made his way to Nebraska, Manny had still been sedated in hospital. He hadn’t seen his friend since the stabbing, nor had they spoken. In the one message they’d shared, Manny had made it clear they would never speak again, and that he blamed Chris for ruining his career. Manny still hadn’t returned to active duty, so it was no surprise the man held a grudge.

  “Chris, are you there?” Manny’s voice was concerned now, insistent. “Look, I—”

  “I’m here Manny.” Chris interrupted. “I’m just surprised.”

  “It’s time, Chris. You can’t go through what we’ve been through and stay mad for long.” Manny sighed. “Besides, I need a favor, if you’re up for it.”

  If Manny was extending the hand of friendship, Chris was ready to take it. “You name it.”

  “Remember that woman we pulled out of NYPD custody and drove to the meeting with Ben Obrist?” Manny paused. “She called me up asking for help. I think she’s got the mob on her ass in a pretty bad way. It looks like they torched her house. She was in hospital for a few days with minor burns.”

  Chris remembered the woman, though her name escaped him. She’d reminded him of his killer’s victims. “Sure, I remember. She’s important to you.”

  “I’m worried about her, Chris. She’s a good lady, but the system has fucked her badly.” Manny sighed. “She wants someone to talk to. I’ve checked on her daughter here in New York and she’s fine, but I need someone to meet with her and make sure the local cops are doing all they can to keep her safe. I’d go, but I can’t because of my rehab.”

  “I’ll do it.” Chris knew he’d have to take some more time off, but it was a small price for his friend’s forgiveness. “What’s her name, and where is she?”

  “She’s in Wallingford, Connecticut.” Manny laughed as he said it. “Picturesque, I hear, but not much else. I’ll send you her address. Her name is Ashley Wheeler.”

  Chris’s eyes narrowed. Manny kept speaking, but Chris wasn’t listening. He jammed the phone between his ear and his shoulder, then used both hands to sort through the papers on his desk. Ashley Wheeler. The name rang a bell. He searched his memory, sure he’d heard it recently. Finally, with Manny still speaking in his ear, he found it.

  He tapped his index finger down on the name hard. Ashley Wheeler. She was one of the sexual assault victims Miles had suggested he track down. She’d been assaulted in California almost a decade ago. She fit the victim profile, and the man who’d attacked her matched the killer’s profile. She’d had her surname changed by witness protection. Miles had noted that down, too.

  Was it possible this woman could hold the key to everything?

  “I’ll give her a call and check it out, Manny.”

  43

  Ashley

  “Four bucks for a Coke, can you believe it?” Ashley held up the can to the police officer. “Damn minibars. I can get a gallon for half the price across the road.”

  The officer didn’t smile. “I’d prefer you stayed in your room, Ms Wheeler. That includes going to the store.”

  Ashley nodded and cracked the can. As she took a sip, the officer turned and walked outside, his hourly check on her complete. She waved with a sigh as the door closed behind him. The routine had been completed on the hour, every hour, for the past few days. It was almost like being in the hospital, though in place of the cheery but overworked nurses she’d been given the grumpiest police officer in Connecticut. She returned to the bed to resume the terrible romantic comedy she’d been watching when the cop had interrupted her.

  Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least she was out of the hospital, and there was a uniformed police officer posted on the front door of her motel. She hadn’t wanted to go to the motel, but she didn’t have much of a choice now that her house was gone. Thankfully, the police had spoken to a local charity and they’d picked up the bill, or else she’d be on the street. Until the insurance payment from the fire came through she’d have no money or belongings, but at least she had a roof over her head and felt safe.

  Feeling safe didn’t mean feeling good, however. The cops didn’t seem to believe that Laverri had started the fire, so she’d called FBI Agent Manuel Rodriguez and asked for help. She’d told him what had happened and her theories about the cause, then asked him for help and to make sure Lucy was okay. Though he’d told her he’d check on Lucy, he’d sounded pained when he told her he couldn’t leave the city to help her.

  He’d called back a day later, telling her to e
xpect a call from his former partner, FBI Agent Chris Horan. Ashley wasn’t comfortable with the compromise, but she hadn’t told Manny that. Unsure if she’d answer when Agent Horan phoned her, she’d thought hard about it for hours before the call came in. Manny vouched for Horan, but Ashley remembered the man vividly. He’d been an asshole when they’d met.

  A day later, Chris Horan had called, and it had gone surprisingly well. Ashley had confided in him about her fears and her theories, and he’d offered to come to Connecticut to see her. She was meeting him in five minutes. Or now – there was a knock on the door. Ashley took another sip of her Coke, turned off the TV and stood. She ran a hand over her clothes, keeping her eyes on the door. She could hear the cop out front speaking to the new arrival and then radioing the visit in. Finally, the door opened.

  “Ms Wheeler?” Horan gave a weary smile. “I’m Chris Horan. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

  Ashley kept her face neutral as she moved toward him and extended her hand. “I remember you. Manny speaks highly of you.”

  “Manny speaks highly of everyone.” Horan laughed as he reached out to shake her hand. “But I’m sorry about my behavior the last time we met.”

  Ashley involuntarily cracked a small smile. “Well, you were helping Manny get me out of a holding cell, so who am I to judge?”

  “We’ll call it even, then.” He placed his bag on the ground. “I’m sorry you’ve been through such an ordeal. Manny told me about it. I’ll do my best to help you.”

  Ashley nodded and gestured him over to the small table next to the television. She offered him a Coke, which he took her up on. Once they were settled, she began to detail the attacks on her boss and her house. He listened intently to her entire explanation, and didn’t even interrupt when she told him who she thought was behind the attacks. It was nice to meet a cop who listened. Only once she’d finished did he speak.

  “I think there’s more to it than you suspect, Ashley.” Horan stood, walked to his bag and pulled out a manila folder. “I’d like you to look at this.”

  Ashley’s eyes narrowed as he opened the folder and spread its contents on the small table. He placed a photo on top. It felt like an ambush. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve been investigating a series of crimes I believe started with an assault in California.” He tapped the photo. “Did this man attack you?”

  Ashley’s focus narrowed, until there was nothing in the world but the man in the photo. That man had altered the course of her life. “Yes.”

  His eyes widened. There was a spark in them that reminded her of the night the man had attacked her. The night she’d recognized his obsession with her, and the danger he posed. Horan wanted something, Ashley was sure, but it wasn’t her. His spark seemed reserved for her attacker. “What happened?” he asked.

  “That’s not easy to answer.” Ashley’s voice was soft. “He was just a normal guy, maybe a little bit weird. We worked together and he asked me out. I felt sorry for him, so I agreed to get dinner with him.”

  The memories she’d suppressed for nearly a decade came flooding back. The awkward meal, spent mostly in silence. The regret she felt half-way through the meal, kicking herself for agreeing to go out with him. The tense car ride home. Her feeling of unease as his hand rested on her thigh, and her panic once she realized what he was after. He’d seemed like a normal guy, but after a few hours he’d started to make her skin crawl. He’d done nothing but stare at her. None of the signals she gave off worked – removing his hand from her leg, crossing her arms, staring out the window – and she’d started to panic.

  Her face twisted into a grimace and her sobs turned to tears. “I told him I wanted to go home, but he pulled the car over anyway. He touched me. The more I pushed him away, the more aggressive he got. He grabbed my hair and pulled me closer, but I fought back and ran.”

  Horan placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Ashley. That’s enough. I just need to know if he attacked you.”

  “He did more than that!” she shouted. “I ran and he chased me. I hid in the bushes while he shouted threats and abuse. He stalked me for hours. Shouting, kicking the bushes, trying to find me. I didn’t move an inch. I barely breathed. When he eventually left, I called the police. They didn’t help me. He kept trying to find me, so I left the state.”

  “And the man in the photo is the man who attacked you?” Chris pushed the photo closer to her. “You’re sure?”

  “That’s him.” Her voice was a hiss. “Why’d you bring this file here? What’s that attack got to do with anything? I asked for help, not an interrogation. I’d like you to leave.”

  Horan stayed seated. “I’m sorry to dredge up painful memories, Ashley, but there’s a fairly good chance this man is a serial killer.”

  “Of course he is, because my life isn’t fucked up enough already.” Ashley shook her head. “Look, I appreciate you coming, but I told the police everything I knew years ago. I thought you were here to talk about my safety, not dredge up the past. Things are bad enough as it is without going back over all of that. I just want to leave it alone.”

  Horan persisted. “I believe he’s killed twelve women in the past decade. First he dismantles the lives of his victims – career, friends, family, pets, finances – and then finally, he kills them. Each victim had red hair, was about your height and weight, and had some terrible things happen to them in the weeks before their death.”

  “Like—” Ashley stammered.

  “Like a fire at their house.”

  Ashley’s mouth fell open. She reached for the photo in a daze. She thought hard, searching for a link between her past and her present. A second later, she dropped the Coke and it fell to the floor. “Fucking hell. That’s him. I can’t believe it, but that’s him.”

  Horan leaned in, ignoring the Coke spilling across the floor. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s him. That’s the guy who killed my boss.”

  44

  Duncan

  Duncan smiled as he caught a glimpse of Ashley Wheeler through the window of the motel room. Though he didn’t stop driving, and she was only visible for a second, it was long enough for him to confirm she was still there. He’d done a similar check every day since she’d left the hospital. Now that he’d finally found her, he wasn’t going to lose her again. The only risk was the cop standing beside her door, yet Duncan was confident a man who looked that bored wouldn’t notice him.

  Once he was past the motel, he sped up until it was a mile behind him. Only then did he remove his dark glasses and baseball cap and toss them onto the seat beside him. He was pleased she was still in place, that the situation was still under his control.

  It took him about twenty minutes to drive back to his trailer. As usual, he checked it from end-to-end to make sure it hadn’t been disturbed. Satisfied that the trailer was untouched, he mustered up some candy and then sat in the trailer’s dining booth with a smile. As he snacked, he took notes on everything he’d seen at the motel, adding to those he’d already scribbled down or typed into his laptop. He found the files helped him remember details and assisted in identifying the things that needed to be taken away from his target. For some women it was obvious, but for others it was considerably less so.

  Duncan had been watching Ashley for days. First in the hospital, where he’d stolen a nurse’s uniform from a locker, using the disguise to get close to Ashley and check her medical charts. He was glad she hadn’t been seriously injured in the fire. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her – not yet – but the fire had been necessary to scare her and to cover up the theft of the things he’d taken from her house.

  He’d already taken away her job and her home, the two things she seemed to draw her sense of security from. On top of that, he’d worked hard to scare her, to make her know she was being targeted. The trap was already sprung, but she didn’t even realize it yet. He wanted to take this one slowly. He wanted her to feel every ounce of pain and loss, to learn
how it felt to be utterly devastated by another person. Only then would her pain be sufficient. Then it would be time to end her.

  Once she’d left the hospital, he’d followed the car that had taken her to the motel, less than two blocks from the hospital. The lack of security the local police department had deployed to protect her was almost criminal. Not that he was complaining. Duncan closed his eyes, trying to think of anything he’d forgotten from his latest visit to her motel room. Even the smallest details could matter.

  When he was sure he’d taken it all down, he put down the pen, picked up his cell phone and dialed a number he’d written on a scrap of paper. As it rang, he heard a meowing sound from down near his feet. Without looking, he reached down and patted Ashley’s cat. It had been homeless after her place had burned down. He’d claimed it from the pound, telling them he was Ashley’s boyfriend. They’d been glad to have one less animal on their hands.

  “L’uccellino Pizza and Pasta.” A sweet-sounding woman answered the phone. “You’re speaking with Jane, would you mind holding the line?”

  “Sure, I’ll hold.” Duncan injected as much kindness into his voice as possible. He was about to ask for something highly unusual.

  Finally, after a few moments and some terrible hold music, the woman picked up the call. “Thanks for waiting, sir, how can I help you?”

  Duncan smiled. “Well, you see, it’s coming up on my anniversary and I was hoping to get one of your delicious chocolate cakes.”

  “Of course, sir, we offer pick-up or we can deliver on the Island, but there’s a five-dollar surcharge.”

  “I was hoping for something a little bit more long-distance than that… Connecticut.” Duncan winced as he waited for the response. “I’m prepared to pay.”