A Killer's Watch (11 page)

“We need grounds for the warrants, and we don’t have them.
Property records are the only source Anna or Dylan has to trace the structures.
And we have those.” Jeri stomped her foot in frustration. “It feels like such a
waste, checking properties when we believe that we’ve already searched the
house we need. But how to narrow it down?”

“We could rent a chopper, fly over the grounds slowly, see
if we can spot something from the air, something we didn’t search this
morning.”

“It’s better than nothing. As long as the homeowners don’t
start shooting at us from the ground, we should be okay.”

“Air space is fair game. If we spot something, then we worry
about a warrant. Or not,” Ethan grinned at her over the car.

“It’s too late to start the search tonight, it will be dark
soon. Rent the chopper, we can leave at first light.”

“That’s the way to make friends, fly over their property at
the break of dawn.”

“I really don’t care what they think. We need to find
Allison.” Jeri opened the car door to get inside. “Too bad we can’t access
satellite views.”

“Who says we can’t? The problem is not with access, but with
clarity. We’re looking for a hatch, or a door built into the ground. It’s
highly unlikely that a random satellite view will pinpoint something so small.
We’ll have a better chance eyeballing it.”

“Sounds like you’ve already considered it,” Jeri smiled as
Ethan joined her in the car.

“Nate and I discussed it,” Ethan shrugged.

“I’d still like to try,” Jeri prompted.

“The files will be in our email by the time we get back to the
hotel.” Ethan rolled his eyes when she grinned. “You act as if I don’t know you
by now.”

“You know me very well, Mr. Barnes,” Jeri leaned over to
give him a kiss. “We can pick up sandwiches on the way in. Make a night of
scouring the images.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ethan grinned, too. He loved surprising
her.

Moments after resuming their journey, Jeri’s phone rang.

“It’s Anna,” she told Ethan, pressing the speaker button.

“Hi, Anna, you’ve got both of us,” Jeri answered.

“An Amber Alert was just issued in Missouri. A fifteen
-
year
-
old girl, Diana
Post, was apparently abducted from her home in Fremont. I’m sending directions
to your tablet. It’s about an hour from Topeka.”

“You said that she was abducted from her home? He’s never
done that before. Are you sure it’s part of our case?” Ethan asked.

“Wait until you see the picture of Diana. She fits his
preferences.”

“He’s getting bolder,” Jeri commented. “What else do you
know?”

“She takes the bus home from school, then lets herself into
her house. Her mom became concerned when Diana didn’t call her, as per usual,
so she went home early to check on her. Her backpack was in the house, a snack
was on the counter, and a broken glass was in front of the fridge. Also, the
garage door was open. Mrs. Post was certain that she closed it this morning.”

“So, he’s waiting for her when she gets home. He knows that
she’s alone, for several hours, after school,” Jeri opened the tablet to find
information on Diana. “Do you have links to her social media pages?”

“Sending them now,” Anna answered. “I can already tell you
that there are certain similarities to the first two girls, aside from the way
she looks. Diana is also a girly girl, loves horses, the color pink, and boy
bands.”

“Have the locals made the connection to Shelby and Allison?”

“I’m not sure, but it shouldn’t take long. What do you want
me to do?”

“Focus on finding a woman, currently living in Clevestone,
who would have resembled these girls, fifteen to twenty years ago,” Jeri told
her.

“I tweaked the facial recognition software to search for
matches in the DMV database, but nothing’s come up yet. Finding her that way is
really a long shot. People change a lot in that amount of time,” Anna answered.

“How many Caucasian women in Clevestone are between the ages
of thirty and thirty-five?” Jeri asked.

“Somewhere around a thousand, give or take,” Anna told her.

“Can you devise a program to work backwards? Take each woman
and do an age regression, then give the final image blond hair?”

“Yeeeesss,” Anna drug out the response, allowing time to
think. “It won’t be difficult, but it will be time consuming. I can’t say when
I’ll have something for you.”

“Send me the results in batches of ten. Make it a priority,
Anna. Thanks.” Jeri disconnected the call.

“You’re worried that he’s already taken another girl,” Ethan
commented.

“Of course, aren’t you? He’s moving much too quickly, for
someone new to this game. His confidence is also growing, especially now, since
he took Diana from her home. We have to cover every angle, look under every
rock. This guy is all over the place, totally skewing our previous
triangulation. I don’t have a clue where to start looking for him, now.”

“What do you want to bet that Anson taught him that? For
years, he escaped capture, partially because he and his brother moved around so
much. This killer is doing the same thing. It’s classic Anson.”

 “If so, that makes Clevestone even more important. Anson
would have taught him to use different drop zones, but this guy keeps going
back to Clevestone. If we can pinpoint the reason why, we’ll be that much
closer to catching him.”

“Can’t argue with that, but what makes you so sure that it’s
a woman?”

“It has to be,” Jeri explained. “The killer is basically
killing the same woman, over and over again. But he’s killing her when she was
a teen, not as she is now. That tells me that she hurt him, badly, when they
were kids.”

“I don’t get it. Every person on the planet was jilted, or
hurt, when they were teens. It’s part of growing up. What makes one man hold
onto that experience so tightly that it turns him into a monster?”

“It’s the same with other types of serials. Not everyone who
has a crappy childhood turns into a serial killer. The predisposition was
already there, lurking. His experience simply brought it out. Let’s talk about
our guy, specifically. We know he has money, but we don’t know if he always had
money. If he grew up privileged, then it’s possible that he was accustomed to
getting everything his way. Maybe the girl we’re looking for was the only
person to tell him
N
o
.
It could be as simple, or as complicated, as that.”

“Please, you’re telling me that our guy was spoiled rotten,
got rejected, then turned into a serial? That’s a little far-fetched, Jer,
don’t you think? I had privileges, growing up, but I heard ‘
No
’ all the time. It didn’t turn me into a
psycho.”

“That’s just it, your parents didn’t give in to your every
whim. You weren’t taught that the sun rose and set with you. If you had been,
and then some woman rejected you, how would you handle it? It would be
difficult, at best. Kids learn to navigate life’s challenges through
experience. If his experiences were all positive, all the time, then one woman
threw him over, or didn’t share his affection, it could trigger latent issues
of self-worth, or anger. He wouldn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Enter Anson, and his ‘lessons’, and several years later, we
have the man we’re looking for today,” Ethan finished, finally seeing the sense
in Jeri’s theory.

“Exactly. We’ve always known that not all serial killers are
born, some are made. Our guy falls into the latter category.”

“A lifetime of privilege would also account for his
confidence levels. He’s progressing rapidly, an in-home abduction is definitely
trickier than a snatch-and-grab off the street. Also, the fact that he’s
sticking to Clevestone as a dump site takes guts.” Ethan finally found a spot
to turn the car around, pointing them in the direction of Fremont.

“It
is
trickier, maybe this time he made a mistake,”
Jeri sent up a silent prayer as she clicked the link to Diana Post’s online
profile.

~~~

Allison had never been so miserable in all of her life.
Every muscle ached, she was chilled to the bone, and her head pounded like
she’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

The hours passed without incident, only the occasional
scurrying of rats on the floor offered any diversion.

Except when he came in.

The last time seemed like days ago, but it also seemed like
minutes, so it was hard to guess. He’d brought in a cot, set it up on the
opposite wall, then placed two more cameras, neither of which he turned on.

He’d spoken to her of a roommate, someone that she could
talk to, then he’d laughed like a man possessed.

Allison failed to see the humor, but she’d taken the
opportunity to ask for water.

“Please, I’m so thirsty,” she’d begged, surprised to find
that her voice was nearly gone.

“Yes, of course. We mustn’t let you get dehydrated.” The man
had left then, only to come back with a bottle of water, which he held to her
lips.

“Not too much, now,” he cautioned, taking the opportunity to
fondle her as he waited.

It was strange, Allison didn’t even feel his hands now, when
he touched her. Her mind shut down, or took her to another place, one where she
was safe and warm.

“That’s enough. I’ll return soon, with a friend.”

Part of Allison felt sorry for the girl that would soon be
in the same predicament as she, but another part of her welcomed the
opportunity for company. Maybe if there were two of them, they could come up
with a way to escape, they could help each other.

As soon as she had the thought, Allison felt guilty. She
shouldn’t want anyone to go through what she was going through. It was wrong.

Closing her eyes, she drifted into unconsciousness. Dreams
of happier times, warm, wonderful moments with her family filled her mind as
she slept.

~~~

Graham didn’t stop at the house, instead he drove straight
across the field to the cellar entrance. It was nearly dark, but the lights
from the truck illuminated the patch of trees surrounding the entrance. Backing
the truck to the doorway, he jumped out, eager to get a better look at his
latest prize.

It was too bad that he’d had to shut down the internet
feeds. His followers would love seeing both girls in such a state. Part of him
knew that they would never trace the signal to him, but the cautious part
insisted that he keep it offline. Graham was nothing, if not cautious.

Glad to see that pretty Diana remained unconscious, Graham
hefted her over his shoulder for the walk down into the cellar. She weighed
next to nothing, or at least it felt that way.

“Such a little thing, just like Aubrey,” he crooned, closing
the cellar door behind him.

The damp cold increased as he descended the stairs,
reminding him to move the heater closer to his newest guest.

“We wouldn’t want you to become ill,” he chuckled at the
absurdity of the notion. “We have much to do, you and I.”

Pushing open the door to the chamber where Allison waited,
he saw that she slept.

“It’s just as well,” he said, quietly. “I haven’t time to
spend with her now, anyway.”

Placing Diana on the cot, he removed the duct tape, then
taped her hands and feet to the metal rails. Next, he pulled scissors from his
coat pocket, then proceeded to shred her clothing. Removing them prior to
taping her down would have been much easier, but he couldn’t risk her coming to
and fighting him.

“Oh, my. You are so beautiful,” he told her, once she lay
naked before him. “Just like my Aubrey looked, I’m sure.”

“
Not that she ever let me see
her,
”
a small voice reminded him.

“We’re making up for that now, aren’t we my dears?” As a
final touch, he draped a sheer veil over her body. Stepping back to see both
girls at the same time, he felt pride swell in his accomplishments. Soon,
Aubrey would have no doubt that he remembered her.

Positioning the new cameras, one to focus solely on Diana,
and one to encompass both girls, he pressed record before reluctantly leaving
the room.

Mother would wonder where he’d been. It wouldn’t do for her
to become curious.

~~~

Thomas stood at the library window, watching the lights from
Mr. Grant’s truck bounce across the field.

Whatever he was doing at the old cellar, Thomas thought, was
taking quite a bit of time. Mr. Grant had left from the cellar, early that
afternoon, returning only moments ago.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Thomas felt the
business card the FBI lady had left with him. Feeling a prickling around the
edges of his conscious, he weighed the option of calling her, telling her about
Mr. Grant’s recent activities.

But what would that get him?

Fired, that’s what.

As well it should. Mr. Grant’s affairs were not his
business. The thought of the entitled prick dirtying his hands with murder was
preposterous, anyway.

But still, his time at the cellar was odd. Perhaps a looksee
was in order, Thomas thought. When Mr. Grant was sure to be out.

Going to the cellar in the daylight was risky, anyone could
look out the window and see him. But if he went at night, then no one would be
the wiser. And he could satisfy his curiosity, without risking his job.

Satisfied with the plan, Thomas slipped from the darkened
room, ready to greet Mr. Grant, drink in hand.

“The similarities between all three girls’ rooms are eerie,”
Jeri told Ethan as they drove towards Toledo. “You could interchange any of
them, and the girls would be happy.”

“Having both parents present at the interview was
different,” Ethan commented. “Diana’s father was falling apart, her mother was
the strong one.”