Malice

by Anne Patrick

  "Is Harland Briggs a suspect?" one of the reporters asked.

  "A BOLO has been issued on Mr. Briggs, along with the description of the Camaro we believe he is driving. However, at this point we merely wish to question him."

  Clever answer. Jo knew they had no solid proof he committed the murders in Maine, since there was never any DNA comparison done, or that he was responsible for the abductions here.

  "Is it true Jo McDaniels is part of the taskforce?" another reporter inquired.

  "Yes, having worked the Maine murders, she's familiar with the aspects of the case and has been of considerable help."

  "Jerald Williams confessed to the murders in Maine. If he didn't do it, that means an innocent man died in prison."

  "Mr. Williams died of a brain hemorrhage, which was in no way related to the charges against him."

  "Yes, but isn't it true had he not confessed or died in jail, he could have very well been a free man today?"

  "There was evidence collected at the scene that would have exonerated him, yes."

  "This kid is talented," Isaac said, joining her in the doorway.

  She smiled. "When I get my own psychic hot line, I want him as my press agent." She'd been teasing him for years that she was going to quit the FBI and start running ads in the back of magazines to exploit her gift.

  "How'd I do?" the young man asked as Chief Benzali took his place at the podium.

  "You're a natural born speaker, kid," Jo said.

  "I didn't look nervous?” he asked, “because I'm sweating like a pig."

  "You did an excellent job," Isaac praised. "Why don't you drive Jo and Lindsey back to the motel while I wrap up here?"

  "I can stay and help," Jo offered.

  "You look exhausted, Jo. Go get some rest."

  She gave no argument. "Let's stop for some barbeque on the way. I'm starving."

  "We just ate two hours ago," Isaac was quick to remind her of the Subway sandwiches they'd sent out for.

  "So, I'm eating for two now," she said and ran her hand over her bulging tummy.

  Isaac laughed, shaking his head.

  *****

  The agents decided on carryout and returned to the motel to eat. It was almost midnight, and the three sat in Jo and Lindsey's room eating ribs and watching the recap of the ten o'clock news. Just as Jo had hoped, the news went national and aired on every channel.

  "How many times are you going to watch yourself?" Lindsey teased the young agent, who sat glued to the TV screen, gleaming with pride.

  "Last time, I promise," he said as the phone began to ring.

  "That's probably Hollywood calling to see if you're free to do the Letterman Show."

  Jo still laughed when she picked up the receiver. "Sounds like you're having an awfully good time. And here I've been worried about you all evening, having caught you on the news."

  "Hey, babe," Jo said in reply to her husband's anxiety.

  "Sounds like you're having a party. Are you sure you're in Minnesota?"

  "I'm afraid so. You say you caught us on the news?"

  "Yeah. You know, you could have given me a little warning. I've been on the phone with your mother for the past half hour trying to calm her down, and your brother, well, I don't even want to go there."

  "Giving you a hard time, is he?"

  "He thinks I'm a coward because I let you go."

  "Let me go?"

  "His words, not mine. I was quick to remind him you could probably whip both of us, pregnant or not."

  "You're my hero."

  "Uh huh. So how are you feeling, you're not overdoing it are you?"

  "No. I'm fine."

  "I don't suppose there's any chance of you coming home in the next day or two?"

  "I just got here. Do you really miss me that much?"

  "I suppose you've been too busy to even think about me?"

  "Never. You're always on my mind."

  "Would you knock it off? You're making us sick over here," Lindsey called out from her side of the room.

  "What'd she say?"

  "Nothing, they're just jealous."

  "They? Who else is there?" he asked. "Never mind, I don't want to know. You're driving me crazy here; you know that, don't you?"

  "I've got a pretty good idea," she said, wishing more than anything he was there with her now. Then deciding they’d better talk about something else, she asked, "So anything new and exciting I should know about?"

  "We're going to be getting new neighbors across the street."

  "The Martins are moving?" She had only met the young couple twice. They seemed nice and she had thought of inviting them over for a cookout, but never got around to it.

  "According to the grapevine, his company transferred him to Utah. The real estate agent was out this afternoon putting up a sign."

  "That's too bad. I wish we'd known ahead of time. We could've had a party for them or something."

  He chuckled. "You know, before you moved in, I didn't know any of my neighbors. I sort of liked it that way. I didn't have to worry about them dropping by unannounced."

  "Yeah, I know. It's a wonder you were even reelected."

  "Well, I'd rather be remembered for my ability not my charm."

  "Cary Grant, you're not. Which makes me wonder what ever attracted me to you," she teased.

  "That's easy. I'm gorgeous, and I have a wonderful daughter."

  "You do have a wonderful daughter," she quickly agreed. "Speaking of which, how is she doing?"

  "Better. I took her out driving earlier. She nearly gave me a heart attack, but her mood has improved considerably."

  "Good. Well, give her my love, and I'll talk to you tomorrow night."

  "Be careful, Jo. I love you."

  "Love you, too."

  Both her colleagues were on the verge of hysteria when she replaced the receiver. "Shut up," she warned before either spoke a word.

  "I think I've outstayed my welcome." Agent Farrell stood and discarded his trash. "Thanks for the company. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Goodnight," they said in unison.

  "You know, he may not be such a bad guy after all."

  Jo nodded in agreement, still a little regretful for having been so hard on him. You're growing more critical with age.

  "Hey did you hear the gossip on our newest member on the team?" Jo shook her head and Lindsey continued. "She had a little sister that was murdered three or four years ago, real sad story. I don't know all the details, just that they never caught the guy."

  "She from the DC area?"

  "Quantico, Behavioral Analysis Unit."

  "She's a profiler?"

  "Yeah, and according to the guys, she's pretty good."

  Jo wondered why Isaac had failed to mention it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jo woke to her own screams. She immediately looked over at her sleeping roommate. Either Lindsey slept very soundly, or Jo had only screamed in the nightmare. Knowing she'd never get back to sleep, she decided to go ahead and take a shower and get dressed.

  It was six-fifteen when Jo finished dressing. She figured it was still too early to wake her roommate so she left her a note and went across the street to the restaurant for some orange juice and toast.

  She had barely sat down when she got the eerie feeling that someone watched her. Fearing another vision, she glanced out the window half expecting to see the Camaro sitting out front.

  "You couldn't sleep either?"

  Startled, Jo turned to see Agent Ryan approaching her table, a coffee cup in her hand. "Nightmare: a hazard of the job."

  "I can imagine."

  Jo doubted it. She hadn't been on the job long enough. As the agent took a seat across from her, Jo reconsidered those thoughts. Judging from the dark circles under her eyes, she looked as if she hadn't slept at all. "Have you even been to bed?"

  "I tossed and turned most of the night. I finally just gave up."

  "I could sit here and lie to you and tell you
it'll get easier with time, but I won't. The nightmares will always be a part of your life."

  "I've worked some pretty disturbing cases, but this one..." Agent Ryan shook her head, her gaze leveling on Jo. "I can't get the images of those little girls out of my head, the things he did to them, the things he's doing to those teenagers now."

  "Let me give you a piece of advice. Those images, the horror you'll be faced with when we find the bodies, you must find a way to deal with them. As hard as it may be, you can't let them become a part of your conscious thought or it will destroy you."

  "You're speaking from experience," she commented, reminding Jo of yesterday's briefing. Then, as if sensing her embarrassment, she offered a supportive smile. "Benzali's a jerk."

  "This may sound strange, but my nervous breakdown probably saved my life." Jo glanced away briefly, debating how much of her personal life she should share. In the hopes of sparing the woman the same fate, she decided to let her guard down. "For several years I'd been on a crash course to disaster, consumed with anger from having gotten a glimpse of some of the most sadistic minds that ever walked this earth. I lived and breathed them. Haunted by images much like those in the photos you saw and crime scenes that would give Stephen King nightmares. It got to the point where I couldn't eat or sleep, and I wouldn't talk about it. Then Harland Briggs came along, and as you've seen, he was every monster I'd ever come across rolled into one, and well, the rest you already know."

  "How can one human being do that to another? I just can't comprehend it."

  "There is a fine line between madness and sanity, Agent Ryan. I'm one of the fortunate ones who was able to find my way back."

  "But you said he wasn't crazy; he knew exactly what he was doing."

  "I believe on some level he does. How else could he exhibit such intelligence? I mean he has thought this thing through, he's not killing at random; he stalks his victims. In order to do that and get away with it as long as he has, there has to be some level of sanity," Jo explained.

  Judging from her puzzled expression, the young agent was just as confused as she was before Jo offered her theory. "I wish I had all the answers, Agent Ryan. We've been trying for years to figure out what makes these monsters tick. Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer, there were similarities in all of them, but as far as pinpointing a particular trait that turned them into the monsters they were, no one knows. At least not yet."

  "So what do you do to help get rid of the images?"

  "Before I got pregnant I used to run six miles a day." Jo smiled. "But now I eat."

  "Well, since I was more into basketball than track, let's have some breakfast." Agent Ryan handed Jo one of the menus. "My treat for lending me your shoulder."

  "Hey, by the time this thing is over, we're all going to be crying on each other's shoulders."

  They had just finished eating when the other members of the taskforce arrived. After ordering another glass of orange juice, Jo sat in silence and listened as they briefed one another on yesterday's assignments.

  "We got a positive ID," Rifkin informed. "According to the youth director at the center, Briggs has been working there about six weeks using the alias, Father Tony Newcomb. He failed to show up for work the day before yesterday and hasn't been heard from since. He gave a bogus address there in Douglas. We checked it out, it's a vacant lot."

  "We visited with several of the kids; seems he does drive an early model Camaro, quite possibly a 79' model. No tag information though, and no one seemed to doubt he was a priest," Milano added.

  "What about references, doesn't this place check out their employees?" Boone asked.

  "Evidently he put on quite an act. He told them he was from the DC area, but no one bothered to check it out."

  "It's funny, almost everyone we've talked to thinks he is just terrific," Lindsey commented. She then turned to Jo. "Is he really that convincing?"

  "I stood right next to the man as they brought those little girls up out of that cellar and he seemed just as shocked as the rest of us. But when he turned and I looked into his eyes, I knew the truth."

  "How did you know," Agent Ryan asked.

  "I felt it. I had been inside this guy's head for months. I knew practically everything about him except his name and what he looked like. It's hard to explain, but someday you'll know what I mean. If you hunt enough of these monsters you'll start to see a resemblance in them, something in their eyes."

  "The eyes are the windows to one's soul," Lindsey commented.

  The group grew silent at her words, each seemingly contemplating their own thoughts.

  "Well, instead of sitting around here talking about him, what do you say we go catch the guy?" Isaac stood. The others followed. All but Jo. "If you feel up to it this morning, I thought you and I could go pay a visit to Brandy Richards' parents."

  "Okay." She looked up at him. "It'd probably be a good idea to put a stake out on the youth center. I doubt he'll go back there, but you never can tell."

  "Way ahead of you, I talked to Douglas PD last night and they assured me their complete cooperation and put a twenty-four hour surveillance on the place. I'm also having periodic road blocks set up between here and there, so unless he's invisible now or he's already left the county, we're going to nail him."

  Jo nodded, wishing she could share his optimism, but she knew Harland Briggs well enough to know he wasn't going to be that easy to catch.

  *****

  Angela Richards greeted them with a guarded smile, her eyes red and swollen from hours of crying. "Chief Benzali said you'd probably be stopping by." She held the door open for them. Jo judged the woman to be in her mid-thirties. She favored the girl Jo had seen the day before with Samantha Scott.

  "Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to maybe have a look at Brandy's room if you wouldn't mind?" Jo said.

  "Of course." She led them through the modest single level home. The autumn carpet was outdated by several years and the furnishings were mismatched, but the home offered a warm atmosphere. "I haven't picked up her room or anything. I wasn't sure if I should after talking to the chief." She paused outside a door situated near the back of the house.

  Isaac elbowed Jo as the woman opened the door. Jo followed his gaze. The inside of the room looked like a tornado had just passed through. The bed hadn't been made, clothes were lying on the floor as well as the bed, and empty cd cases and books were piled on the desk and in the chair. "Looks like your house, before you got domesticated," he said just out of earshot of Mrs. Richards.

  "Very funny," she replied, shoving past him. She walked to the desk and scanned the titles of the books piled on top. Most were chemistry or science related making it appear the girl had been doing research for a school project. Turning, Jo began to study her surroundings. It was a typical teenager's room, resembling her own stepdaughter's bedroom, with posters of rock stars and the latest movie idol plastered on the walls.

  Much like herself, the missing teenager wasn't in the least concerned about the disarray of her living space, undoubtedly knowing exactly where everything was.

  "Officer Scott said they thought my daughter skipped her afternoon classes and went with this man on her own free will, but I just can't believe that."

  Neither commented as they watched the woman pick up the clothes scattered on the floor on the other side of the bed.

  "Brandy just isn't like that. She would never ditch school, period. Much less take off with someone she barely knows."

  "Brandy didn't intend to ditch her classes, she just went for a ride," Jo said, her attention returning to the stack of books. "She thought she could trust this man, she'd known him for a couple of weeks, confided in him."

  "Is he really a priest?"

  Jo shook her head while Isaac answered, "No."

  The anger Jo experienced the previous day at the killer's deception intensified. Briggs had used what was most sacred to befriend and court these girls, using their trust and innocence to lure them in to his hellish world.
r />   Needing some fresh air, she turned to leave, but then spotted something sticking out from underneath the mattress near the head of the bed. She stepped closer, quickly recognizing it as a diary. Jo looked at Isaac. He saw it too. Seeing the woman was preoccupied, Jo knocked the stack of books off the desk. "Sorry. I'm a bit clumsy these days." She squatted, quickly grabbed the diary and shoved it underneath her jacket into the waistband of her slacks, then started to pick up the books.

  Isaac hurried over. "I got them."

  "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Richards," Jo said as she made a hasty exit from the house, with Isaac following close behind.

  "You shouldn't have taken that," he said as they climbed into the car.

  "Judging from the conversation I overheard in the bathroom yesterday, I doubt her mother would find any comfort in reading it."

  *****

  Jo's suspicions were confirmed later that afternoon as she read the diary to the rest of the taskforce. "'I saw Father Tony again today. I can't get over how cool he is, I mean for a priest. He listens to a lot of the same tunes my friends and I do and he has an awesome Camaro. Reminds me of the car Burt Reynolds drove in Smokey & the Bandit, only I think it was a Trans-Am. He even has a mustache like Reynolds did in the movie. I guess what I like most about Father Tony is he listens to me. I mean really listens. When I'm with him, and we're talking, it's like I'm the most important person in the world to him. It's very flattering.'" Jo paused in her reading and glanced around at the other members of the taskforce. A deep-seated anger continued to grow inside her.

  "This guy's another Ted Bundy," Agent Farrell commented.

  "Bundy wasn't as ruthless as Briggs," Isaac commented before glancing up at Jo. "Go ahead."

  "'He asked me to meet him in the park on my lunch break Wednesday. He said he's organizing a street dance in Douglas and wants my opinion on the bands he has lined up to play. I think it's just a ruse though. In the last couple of weeks since we've been hanging out I've gotten the feeling he wants to kiss me, but that maybe he's afraid. The man has no idea how much I like him. I know he's a priest and all, but he is so cute." Closing the diary, Jo let out a sigh. "That was her last entry, written on Monday." She left the diary on the podium and took a seat at the table.