by A P Morgan
“Are you going to be okay with doing this again so soon after everything?” Leslie asked as we headed to our gate.
“I wasn’t. I didn’t want to do this again, but I worked through it with Shea. Jesse wouldn’t want me to give up. I’ve got to make his death count for something. I’m not sure that I can be as excited as you are about this, but I’m ready to get to work.”
“Hey, I’m not happy. I’m just tired of sitting around, letting this killer get the upper hand.” She held her ticket out to the boarding agent. “It’s a good thing we have connections, or we’d never had made this flight.”
“True. But there are flights to L.A. that go out pretty frequently.” I put my suitcase in the overhead bin and chose the seat next to the window. The FBI hadn’t splurged for first-class seats, but it didn’t look like it was a full flight.
Leslie sat in the outer seat, and when no one else arrived to sit between us, I was relived. She closed her eyes and was out before the plane took off, but I was trapped with my thoughts of how to catch this killer.
Three hours later, and no closer to solving it, we landed in L.A.
I’d traveled, but L.A. wasn’t someplace that I’d been before. Thankfully, we didn’t even have to look around after collecting our weapons, as Agent Watson was standing there. He would have been hard to miss, because he was in what most people think of as FBI attire. And in case we hadn’t seen him, the jacket with the words FBI were a dead giveaway.
“Hi. I’m Ryan, and this is Leslie.”
“Great to meet you. I’m here to take you to the hotel for the rest of the night. Agent Perez is coming back to L.A. in the morning so that you can meet before you head out. She may not need you out there, and if not, she’ll have you do some footwork here in town first. I’m pretty much your tour guide until we catch this killer.”
“Well, she slept on the flight, but I’m exhausted, so even a few hours of sleep would be wonderful,” I informed him, because the full workday, and now traveling, were starting to wear on me. Maybe I’d actually sleep for more than an hour or two tonight.
“You’re in luck, because with the time change from Texas, you gained about two more hours of sleep. Here’s my card, and I have both of your numbers. Everything is setup, and they did get you separate rooms. All you have to do is sign in and get some rest. I’ll be here in the morning at about eight to take you to meet Agent Perez for breakfast, and to discuss the case.”
We gathered our bags and made it to the lobby, where Leslie signed us in. She seemed to have gotten a little rest on the plane, and I let her take charge because I simply didn’t have the energy to discuss anything else for the night.
“Night.” She handed me the key to my room.
“Night. See you in the morning. Thanks for being diligent in trying to find this guy.” I slid the card into the lock and opened the door as the light flashed green.
“No worries.”
The door closed behind me. I only stopped long enough to take off my shoes and place my weapon under the pillow before I stretched out on top of the blankets.
My eyes didn’t close as quickly as I’d hoped, and I laid there, staring at the ceiling, cursing the killer for my sleepless night.
Chapter 4
Leslie
I woke up early, probably because back home it was two hours earlier, and I would already be at work. I texted Jerome to let him know that I was in California, about to head into a meeting.
Ryan hadn’t been much help last night, but I could tell that he hadn’t recovered from the trip to Wisconsin. It was going to take some counseling and time before he could live with what happened. I just wanted a chance to keep what had happened to Jesse from happening to others.
Knocking on his door at seven thirty, he barely appeared before taking the coffee from my hand and closing the door in my face.
I shrugged. He didn’t seem to be much of a morning person. I hoped he got over his crankiness by the time Agent Perez arrived. I decided to head down and the lobby and look over the paper while I waited.
The headlines weren’t much different than those at home, with sensational stories of death or of heroes that saved someone’s baby. I didn’t have to wait long before Agent Watson arrived. Evidently, the FBI believed in being on time.
“How’d you sleep last night?” he inquired when he stopped next to where I was sitting.
“Fairly good, considering that it was a short night. Ryan should be down in a few minutes. I knocked and gave him coffee to help motivate him.” I stood so that he wasn’t looking down at me. “He recently lost a partner, and it’s been tough.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe getting back to work will help him process it better.”
“Hey, here comes the sleepy head now.” I nodded as the elevator door opened.
“We can get going to meet Agent Perez.”
“Great!”
“It’s not anything fancy, but at least it’s food,” Agent Watson apologized as he pulled up at a local breakfast chain.
Agent Perez was already at a table waiting for us.
“Detective Boxe, Detective Fox, thank you both for joining me.”
Agent Watson hid a snicker as he took a seat next to his boss.
“We wouldn’t normally have two outside detectives working on a case like this, but at the moment, we have no idea what we’re dealing with. Your experience will help us narrow down a profile, and hopefully, help us to catch this killer.”
“Thank you for this opportunity. We’re hoping with the extra resources you have available, and our previous knowledge, that we can stop him from doing this again.” I felt like a little kid wanting the teacher to acknowledge me.
She nodded. “Let us get down to business. Here’s what we know. There were five women found out in Seaside. It’s a small tourist town of about three thousand right on the highway, where tons of people go through on their way up the coast. From what I read on your cases last night, our killer may not be a local.”
“In both of our cases, each of the killers were local, but it was in a much larger town. Yet, they did move to where they did the killings. I’m going to bet that he only used that spot for the first five days, and since you’ve uncovered it, he’s moved on to his next place already.”
“We’ve found out two of the women’s identities, and I would like you to go by their houses. Agent Watson will go with you because I’ve got to go back to town.”
“Okay, we can do that. Are we thinking the killer took them from their homes, or lured them out where it would be easier to meet them?” I wanted to be on the same page. I knew how we would handle it, but the FBI most likely had a different approach.
“We haven’t found any evidence of abandoned vehicles, and these two have been the only ones reported missing so far. I don’t think you’re going to find much at their homes. I think he grabbed them while they were out. The question is, were they in Seaside, or did he drive them there to dump them?”
So, we’re just going to be her extras, doing the legwork.
“We’ll make sure to find out for you.”
Her phone beeped. “Agent Watson will help you get around, and then bring you out this afternoon. We’ve just gotten information on a missing girl in Seaside. It might just be a runaway, but nevertheless, I’m going to go give the sheriff a hand.”
“I’ve got them taken care of, ma’am. You go help find that girl.” He moved out so that she could leave the booth.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you, but watch your backs. Agent Watson also has temporary badges for you. They don’t give you much authority, but should keep you out of trouble if you need help.” Without so much as a wave, Agent Perez was gone.
“I’m sorry. She’s good at her job, but a little brusque. You were asking about the circumstances of the murders last night, and I didn’t have any answers for you. Now, I do,” Agent Watson advised.
“So how did they die?” Ryan spoke up for the first time this morning.
“Unfortunately, it’s still early in the process, and we haven’t had any success at identifying a killer before they’ve killed themselves. I’m also going to guess that each woman died on their birthday. It’s been part of the M.O. for the past two killers, and I don’t see why that would change, especially if he’s carving it above their graves,” I offer.
“Agreed. We’ll be doing notifications and going through their houses to see what we can find. We’re meeting the missing persons officer in less than an hour.”
The first house belonged to a twenty-seven-year-old social media publicist for one of the stars. It was huge compared to some of the small houses that single women lived in in Texas. I wasn’t sure just how managing someone’s social media could pay that much, but it looked to be a lucrative vocation.
Missing persons had a detective that met us to let us inside. They had already marked off the house with crime scene tape, announcing to the world that Elisa Robins wasn’t going to be returning home anytime soon.
Introductions were made, and they finally let us through to search for something left behind.
Ryan looked a little lost, but I went straight for the office space. If she’d left of her own accord, there could be some sort of clue left there.
Neat stacks of mail sat on the desk. A port showed the plugins for a computer or tablet, but it wasn’t there. Her calendar was circled for March 20th, with a big smiley face. “Special trip with bestie for my birthday” had been written next to it in large, green letters.
I walked back out to the front room. “Do you know who reported her missing?” I asked the detective hovering in the doorway.
“Her client. Her family was from the West Coast, and she came out here to be a star. But instead, she became the publicist to one,” he answered patiently.
“How long before they reported it?” I pushed further.
“It wasn’t until Monday afternoon. Elisa was supposed to be gone for the weekend, but she should have been at work on Monday. Her client thought that maybe something was wrong and called her repeatedly. When she didn’t show, they reported her missing and had us check out her home. The car was gone, and there weren’t any signs of forced entry, so there wasn’t much we could do.”
“Did you check her social media footprint for updates of where she went or who she was with?”
“No. We checked her accounts and nothing was posted.”
“The killer could have deleted them, but he wouldn’t have thought to check unless he was much younger, or had done his homework and knew what she did for a living, her routine, things like that.”
“I’ll get one of our techs to start digging a little deeper into her profiles to see if something was missed,” Agent Watson quickly offered.
I nodded before going back to see if there was anything else that stood out.
Her trashcan was empty, but I shifted through the mail sitting on the desk and found a few offers for getaway retreats. I wandered out and went to the bedroom where Ryan was poking around in the closet.
“Did she take a lot of clothes with her?” I asked, making him jump.
“There are a few empty hangers, and not a lot of laundry. I’m going to guestimate about three or four sets of clothes. Probably enough for a weekend, but not long-term. She’s got a lot of designer tags, so she couldn’t have afforded to take many extras with her if each outfit is worth a few grand.”
I stepped back and looked at him in a new light. “Where did you learn about fashion designers?”
“Shea watches all those fashion shows. I’ve tried to tell her that I can’t ever give her stuff like that, but she says that’s why they make the shows. It’s for those who won’t ever get to have them, but they feel like part of the process by watching.” He shrugged it off.
“Impressive. I’ve got to agree with you, though. I don’t think she was planning to be gone more than a weekend. Just a quick birthday trip with the girls.”
There were a few pictures stuck into the mirror, and I took the one that had a gaggle of girls posing for a group selfie. If one of the girls didn’t know where Elisa was planning to go, then no one did.
Agent Watson stuck his head in. “I called in the information that you mentioned, and they’ll get back to us in a little while.”
“We need to find out who these girls are, because one of them would’ve known where she was headed.” I held out the photo to him.
“Take a picture, and we’ll compare it to who’s listed on her social media. They’ve informed the family, and we need to get to the other house if you’ve looked through everything that you can here.”
“Might as well, because I don’t think the killer was ever in her house. The Aquarius killer only met them at the front door, so there wasn’t any DNA or other evidence at their homes either.” Ryan joined us, and we left with a little more information to work with.
The second house was much like the first, turning up nothing that was helpful. We were just about to leave when Agent Watson got a text, telling us who Elisa’s friends were and where we could find them.
Heather and Betsy were at a local coffee shop, according to their social trackers.
I shook my head at the stupidity of women only a few years younger than me. Why on earth would you tell people exactly where you were? Anyone trying to find or stalk you only had to be on the app to locate you.
The three of us walked in and approached the table with the women who were confirmed to be in Elisa’s picture.
“Heather? Betsy?” I asked, stepping toward the two girls seated at the table.
“Yeah, who are you?” Betsy asked, with her nose turned up at my outfit.
Suddenly self-conscious of my khaki pants and dress shirt, I had to repeat to myself that I wasn't the one broadcasting my location to serial killers on social media.
“Are you friends with Elisa?”
“Yeah, but you certainly aren’t, so what do you want?” Heather asked rudely.
“She’s dead.” I dropped the words into the hostile air, knowing it was the only way to get their attention.
“Whatever. That’s your film crew right behind you, isn’t it?” She barely glanced at the two cops standing behind me. “Ignore her, Betsy. We’re being punked,” Heather huffed, turning her seat away from us.
I pulled out the temporary badge I'd been given only hours before. “The FBI begs to differ, Heather.”
“Oh, my God! It’s true?” Betsy started to wail.
“Yes. Can we have a seat? We have a few questions for you.”
Eyes wide, Heather turned back toward us. “I haven’t seen anything on her social stuff.”
“No, Heather, and you won’t. She’s dead, so she can’t post on social media to update you.” I couldn’t believe that she was missing the point completely. “We need to know where she was planning to go for her birthday this last weekend. Did she tell you who was going with her?”
“No, and we didn’t know we were supposed to meet her anywhere. She wanted to know why we weren’t there. She’d called us, drunk, saying it was going to be a horrible birthday because of us, and that we shouldn’t prank people on special occasions,” Betsy answered between sobs.
“Look, we didn’t kill her, and we certainly wouldn’t send her to some beach getaway for her birthday. I talked to her before she got drunk. I think and she mentioned something about it being a surprise from us. We didn’t try to surprise her.” Heather shrugged and went back to staring out the window.
“She kept saying something about all these plans, I guess waiting for us to slip up and tell her what we were doing. I thought someone else was surprisi
ng her, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her.” Betsy was taking deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm down.
Agent Watson stepped forward, placing a business card in front of each girl. “If you ladies think of anything else that might help us find her killer, please call.”
“Wait, she was murdered?”
We finally had Heather’s attention.
“Yes. The FBI doesn’t normally get involved with informing friends of their peers’ deaths when it’s only a car accident,” I added with sarcasm.
“Who would kill her?” Betsy covered her mouth in horror.
“Are we in danger?” Heather looked at the three of us for an answer.
Gritting my teeth, because she was getting on my nerves, I tried to answer politely. “Do you have a birthday this month?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” she asked, offended.
“The killer is only going after women with the birth sign of Aries.”
“Oh, well then, both Betsy and I are safe. I was born in December, and her birthday is in August, so we should be okay.”
“Yes, Heather, I think you’re going to be just fine. Thank you both for your help.” I got up to leave, knowing that even if they knew anything, they were too self-absorbed to realize it.
The three of us left quickly, and I let out a relieved laugh when we were inside the safety of the car.
“I was ready to strangle that girl myself. Please tell me I wasn’t alone in the feeling?”
“How can someone not even care that their friend is dead?” Ryan agreed, pitying the dead woman in her choice of friends.
“Heather cared a lot more than she let on. I thought she was really stupid at first, but I think it’s just an act. Either way, I think we got all the information we could, and now we know the victims probably didn’t tell anyone about where they were going on their special birthday getaway.”
