by Anne Patrick
He offered a sympathetic smile.
Jo shifted in her seat, triggering the baby to move as well. "It certainty is rambunctious like a boy."
"May I?" he asked motioning toward her belly.
"Sure."
He gently placed his hand on her stomach. As if summoned, the baby kicked causing Isaac to laugh. "Wow, that's some punch."
"Tell me about it."
"You know, I've never seen anyone who wanted to whip someone's butt as bad as Austin wanted to whip mine when he saw me today."
"He's afraid it's going to be too much for me with the pressure of the pregnancy and all. I assured him I'll be fine, though."
"I didn't want to involve you, Jo, not after what happened last time, but…"
"I know. I'm going to be fine, Isaac. He can't hurt me anymore. I know my limitations."
"I'll be there for you, you know that don't you? I mean when you need to talk, and you're going to need to talk about it."
"I know, and I will. I promise. Just lighten up, okay? You don't need to feel so protective over me."
"I can't help it, Jo. I feel responsible for what happened to you before."
"I had a nervous breakdown. That wasn't your fault."
"If I hadn't pushed you so hard…"
"Stop it, Isaac. You didn't push me any harder than I pushed myself. If anyone is to blame for me going over the edge, it's Briggs."
He nodded, glanced at the files in her lap and then back to her. "Why do you think he's changed his victim profile?"
"I don't know. Maybe he's evolving. Little girls are too easy for him now."
"I figure he could be luring them in with some sort of a scam, posing as a photographer or talent scout maybe. Each of the missing girls is very pretty and well developed for their ages, and it's every girl's dream to be a model or an actress."
"I don't think so, Isaac. These girls are too smart to fall for something so lame."
"Then how?"
"I don't know yet. What bothers me is his three-year hiatus. Where's he been? What's he been doing?"
"We probably don't want to know the answer to that."
*****
They landed in Minneapolis just after five that evening and rented a car, driving another half hour before reaching Louke. After stopping off to grab a sandwich from the local drive thru, it was almost seven when they arrived at the police station on Main Street.
Having sat the biggest part of the afternoon, Jo's legs were beginning to ache, and recalling her doctors warning of developing blood clots, she decided she'd better get in a walk before meeting with the other members of the taskforce.
"You want me to tag along and keep you company?"
"No, I'll be okay. Why don't you go ahead and brief the others? I won't be long."
Jo headed north to Fourth Street. As she stood on the same corner as the second teenager that disappeared two weeks ago, she glanced around at the businesses lining both sides of the block. Behind her was a café with a large pizza painted on the glass with the name Dante's above it, and judging from the number of young people she saw inside, it was a popular hangout. She noted the sign on the door, 'Open 10am-12pm, closed Sundays'. Catty-cornered from the hangout was a small park.
Jo crossed the street to the park and watched a mother and child play at the slide. The little boy's laughter rang out each time his mother picked him up and placed him at the top, and then turned him loose to come sliding down. The woman, similar in appearance, reminded Jo of herself. She smiled, placing her hand on the life growing inside her. For the first time since learning of her pregnancy, she felt blessed.
A revving engine jerked Jo's attention away from the blissful scene. She stared back in the direction she had come and a wave of nausea hit, followed by a feeling of lightheadedness. Across the street stood a teenager beside an early model blue Camaro. Jo's heart raced as she recognized the pretty brunette standing at the passenger side door -- Lauren Shipley, one of the missing girls.
The teenager smiled and looked back toward the café then climbed inside the car.
Jo sucked in a breath and inched closer, trying to get a look at the driver.
The image wavered slightly before vanishing, and Jo found herself staring at an empty street corner.
She took another deep breath and rubbed the chill bumps on her arms, realizing at the same time she no longer heard the boy's laughter in the background. Turning, she found the mother and son had gone, and she couldn't help but wonder if they'd really been there to begin with.
She rubbed her tummy tenderly. "Welcome to my world, kid."
CHAPTER FOUR
Isaac was wrapping up his briefing on the recent abductions when Jo entered the office the police had set aside for their use. Scanning the faces at the table, she recognized Lindsey Hammond, the forensic lab technician she used on many of her cases, and Earl Raymond, nicknamed, Boone, a forensic pathologist she'd met a few years ago.
"Come on in, Jo, and have a seat."
Jo took the empty chair at the head of the table, and when she looked up, she saw Isaac's gaze still fastened on her. She forced a smile before glancing away as to avoid his searching eyes.
"I've just finished briefing them on the recent abductions and was about to get into Briggs' past, but first, let me introduce everyone. J. J. Rifkin, his specialty, evidence recovery."
"It's an honor, Agent McDaniels."
Though heavier in weight, his gorgeous locks of blonde hair reminded her of Austin. "Call me Jo," she said with a smile.
"Next we have Greg Milano. He and Rifkin are partners from our Washington field office."
"Nice to meet you, Jo."
At least four inches shorter than his partner, his accent and jet-black hair and mustache suggested an Italian lineage. She shook the hand he offered across the table. "Same here."
"Travis Farrell is a recent transfer to our Violent Crimes Unit at Quantico."
He merely nodded. Though he seemed to be on the arrogant side, he was strikingly handsome with his black hair meticulously groomed and a perfect set of pearly whites.
Isaac continued, "I think you already know Boone and Agent Hammond."
"I'm glad you're on the case, Jo,'' Boone said as he peered over his bifocals." Maybe we'll get out of here a lot faster."
Jo smiled at him before turning her attention to Lindsey. "Glad you could make it."
"Okay, let's get back to work. Agent Rifkin, you want to get the lights?"
Isaac turned on the projector just as the lights went out. Jo stared at the dark, haunting eyes of the man known as Harland Jefferson Briggs. Judging from his youthful appearance and full head of sandy brown hair, the photograph had been taken at least ten years ago. Forcing herself to look away from the photo, she shifted her concentration to Isaac.
"Prairie View, Maine, a small community Northeast of Bangor, made national headlines three years ago when a growing number of little girls went missing. They were abducted from bus stops, parks, even out of their own front yards. Jo was brought in on the case after the seventh little girl was reported missing.
"The unknown suspect was methodical in his M.O. Each child had been taken in broad daylight, seemingly without a struggle, and with no witnesses. Numerous searches of the area turned up no clues as to where the girls had been taken. It seemed as if they simply disappeared without a trace.
"After visiting with the families of the missing children, and going over what little evidence the police did have, Jo offered the following profile. He’s a white male, early to mid-forties, medium build, and athletic. He's intelligent, an authoritative figure in his chosen profession, but quiet and withdrawn in his personal life. He is the most comfortable around children and teenagers, finding it difficult to make adult friends. Though capable of a normal relationship with a woman, his pedophiliac tendencies often interfere with an otherwise normal sex life. As with many sex offenders, it's quite possible he was sexually abused himself as a child.
"In
order to gain the girls’ trust and lure them into his trap, it's believed he is either in law enforcement or is pretending to be. He works nights, allowing him time during the day to stalk his victims prior to abduction, lessening his chances of being caught. He owns or has access to an abandoned building or large garage that is secluded, which allows him time to do what he wishes to the victims. Taking into account the fact none of these children have been found as of yet, the chances of finding any of them alive is unlikely."
"Excuse me," Travis Farrell spoke, glancing towards Jo. "Statistically speaking, don’t pedophiles go for younger children?"
"Yes but pedophiles don't work under a code of ethics. It could be he chose his earlier victims only because they were easier targets," she answered.
"Their only break in the case came when the police had gone to a boarding house to question Jerald Williams, a janitor who worked at the school where several of the girls attended. When they arrived, he was found in the company of a child that had been abducted the day before. A search of the grounds led to the discovery of twelve bodies in a cellar in the backyard. The girls had been raped, tortured, and then buried alive."
Suspecting Isaac could probably use a break, Jo stood and took his place at the front of the room. "Though Jerald Williams, an autistic thirty-two year old white male, confessed to these murders, we believe it is this man who is the real monster."
"What makes you so sure it wasn't the janitor?" Agent Farrell asked as his eyes drifted down the length of Jo's body.
Jo cleared her throat to get his attention. He glanced up, and when their eyes met, he gave a smug smile. She couldn't resist calling him out. "Had you been paying attention when Isaac read my profile, you wouldn't have to ask that question."
His smile vanished and Jo continued. "Shortly after the discovery of the bodies, we learned the boarding house was owned by a detective on the Prairie View Police Department by the name of Harland Jefferson Briggs. He bought the boarding house a year before to serve as somewhat of a halfway house for drug addicts and recovering alcoholics, while in reality it was his own house of horrors. He'd converted the basement into an elaborate torture chamber, well insulated with padded walls, therefore making it sound proof, as was the cellar out back of the house."
On cue, Isaac changed the slide, and a photograph of the crime scene showed on the screen. Jo gave only a brief glance, the images still fresh in her mind. From the two beds equipped with bonding devices in the basement, to the padded walls of the cellar, the photographs showed only a fraction of the horrors experienced by the victims.
"Do we know how he lured them in?" Agent Rifkin asked
"Briggs, a three time divorcee with no children, often volunteered his time to various youth organizations," Jo informed. "We believe this was how he met and gained these children's trust."
Isaac motioned toward the switch on the wall and Lindsey flipped on the lights, their brightness temporarily blinding Jo. Turning off the projector, Isaac glanced at Jo as if to see how she was holding up. She offered a smile of assurance.
"If you've noticed, Jo's profile fit Briggs almost to a tee, but the police were having a hard time believing one of their own could be responsible for such a horrific crime. Instead, their suspicions turned to the autistic janitor and a pair of girl’s panties produced by Detective Briggs, which he supposedly found near the dumpster out back of the boarding house, further incriminating Mr. Williams. Though semen samples taken from the girls could have eliminated Williams as a suspect, he confessed shortly after he was brought in for questioning. The police, assuming they had the real killer, never bothered to compare the DNA, and by the time we were able to convince the State’s Attorney General's Office that they had an innocent man in prison, he died of a massive brain hemorrhage. By then Briggs had left town."
"So why did the janitor confess?" Agent Milano asked.
Though the question seemed aimed at Isaac, Jo chose to answer. "Why Mr. Williams confessed to the murders, no one knows. It could have been coercion, or he may not have understood the charges against him, but judging from his apparent IQ there isn't a jury in this country that would have found him guilty."
"Why'd he come here," Agent Farrell asked. "According to your profile, this guy is pretty smart. Why would he abduct girls from his own home town?"
"He's taunting us," Jo answered. "Having gotten away with the other murders, he's feeling very powerful right now. His arrogance will be his downfall though. He's so focused on what he's doing that I doubt he's able to hold down a full time job. He needs time to stalk his victims and to plan his escape routes."
"If he isn't working, where's he getting his money?" Lindsey inquired.
"Good question," Isaac said. "He could be using aliases for menial work, but my guess is he's getting cash from more fraudulent avenues thus heightening his gratification."
"Such as?" Boone asked.
"Knocking off liquor or convenience stores maybe," Jo suggested.
"Rifkin, you and Milano see if you can find anything in our data bases to back up her theory," Isaac instructed.
"What about the rest of us?" Agent Farrell asked.
"I want to know everything there is to know about Harland Briggs," Jo said, and at the same time could feel Isaac's gaze on her. "We know he was born and raised here, moving to Maine sometime during his high school years. He has three sisters, I want them tracked down and interviewed. I want to know where he lived. I want you to interview every neighbor he ever lived by, every friend he ever hung out with, every teacher he ever had. I want to know about the girls he dated, if he had a paper route or sacked groceries at the super market."
Isaac stepped forward. "Okay, we all have our work cut out for us. As do the local police, who by the way, aren't exactly thrilled with us being here right now. I was successful in convincing the director that this guy is connected to other disappearances across the country, which gives us jurisdiction, but it would be in our best interest to tread lightly in order to gain their full cooperation. We don't want anyone withholding vital evidence that could be crucial in his apprehension."
While Isaac gave assignments to the others, Jo took the opportunity to sit down and put up her feet.
Lindsey Hammond slid into the seat next to her. "I see you didn't follow my advice."
"Excuse me?"
"The last time we spoke on the phone -- what's it been ten months ago -- we were discussing the cute sheriff you were working with?"
"Ah, my husband."
"So I heard. It would've been nice to have been invited to the wedding."
"There were no invitations. We eloped."
"And let me guess, this is a souvenir of the honeymoon?" Lindsey reached over and placed a hand on Jo's belly. "So how are you coping with pregnancy?"
"My breasts feel like watermelons. I've gained over twenty pounds. I go to the bathroom constantly, and I want to eat anything that can't eat me first. Oh, and I'm nauseous the majority of the time."
Lindsey laughed. "You know some of us would give just about anything to be in your position."
Jo cursed her callousness after recalling a discussion they'd had a few years ago about Lindsey and her husband having tried for years to get pregnant. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me."
Straitening up in her chair, Lindsey smiled. "Don't worry about it. I figure if it's meant to be, it'll happen."
Deciding it was best to change the subject, Jo steered the discussion toward work. "I appreciate you coming here."
"Thanks for recommending me. I haven't been out in the field since my rookie days, seven years ago."
"How do you like it so far?"
"I love it. Everyone needs a change of scenery every now and then, and I haven't been outside of DC since, I can't even remember. So when are you due?"
"In June, which means we haven't much time to apprehend Briggs."
"You honestly think we're going to catch this guy in eight weeks?"
"He isn't getting aw
ay from me this time, Lindsey."
Jo had barely spoken when Isaac leaned across the table toward them, his eyes steady on her. "Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I need to see you a minute."
"That's okay. I need to go unpack anyway." Lindsay stood. "According to the itinerary, we're roommates so I'll see you back at the motel."
Jo followed Isaac from the room and down a long, narrow hallway, until he stopped outside the office of the Chief of Police. "I thought it'd be a good idea to go over the facts with Chief Benzali," he said.
"Sucking up to the locals, are we?"
"Hey, it can't hurt. Besides, according to one of his officers he went to school with Briggs."
Arching her eyebrows, she waved him on. "Like you said, it can't hurt."
CHAPTER FIVE
Jo's enthusiasm soon died as Chief Dave Benzali took an instant disliking to her. At five-eight, she judged him to be a few inches taller than her, with a gut that overlapped his utility belt. Noting the tone of his voice when he informed them he'd been in law enforcement over thirty years, Jo suspected right away he was old school and didn't appreciate the FBI butting in on his investigation. The fact she was pregnant seemed to bother him even more.
"I'm going to be honest with you, had the State’s Attorney General's office not called insisting on my cooperation, you wouldn't be sitting here right now." His eyes shifted to Jo. "And as for you, I don't put much stock in this profile of yours. It's all a bunch of hocus pocus nonsense."
Jo almost laughed. Had she not visited her father's grave less than a month ago she'd swear he stood right before her. I put you through college so you could become a doctor not so you could read the minds of cold-blooded killers. They'd been the last words she'd heard her father speak the day she walked out of his life eleven years ago to join the FBI.
"I fail to see any humor in this situation, Miss, Ma'am…what am I supposed to call you anyway? Are you even an agent?"
"Yes, she is an agent," Isaac said. "She's been with the FBI…"
"I know it's hard to swallow, but I do have a badge to prove it if you'd like to see it. They even let me carry a gun, which I must confess, what with my mood swings and all probably isn't such a good idea."
