Blackwaters: A Kate Reid Novel (The Kate Reid Series Book 4) (6 page)

There was still Marshall’s money. She called it that because it had been proceeds from the sale of
his
downtown San Diego apartment. While she might have lived there, it was never hers—and neither was the money. It still sat in a bank account, accumulating a pathetic interest rate that could hardly sustain the cost of the banking fees.

A chill passed through her as she continued along the quiet roadside, only a few cars passing her by, none even attempting to slow down and offer assistance. Not that she would have accepted anyway. It wouldn’t be long before she reached the subdivision in which her home resided. The night was revealing signs of a coming fall that was long overdue. Leaves on the ground crunched beneath her feet. The trees from which they fell grew barer by the day. Even in the night sky, she could see their branches becoming devoid of life.

Kate pressed on, unafraid of what was behind her, no longer feeling the urge to check over her shoulder. This was partly a result of her training, partly due to time having passed. Her heart remained hardened thanks to those who had stolen so much from her and it was better that way.

Finally, the community was visible in the distance and a relieved smile masked her face. She was almost home. Hoisting the laptop bag further atop her shoulder, Kate’s eye was drawn to a building on the right hand side. She must have passed it a hundred times before, but never took much notice. Perhaps it was because this was the local school and she had no cause to pay attention to a school. Except now.

She stopped on the sidewalk at the school’s entrance. It was gated off and had no way to access. A sign of the times for certain. In the dim light of a few streetlamps, she could read the sign on the front. Hamilton Middle School. Staring at it for some time, a thought that initiated abstractly began to take form. “Hamilton Middle School,” Kate said.

A crime scene photo of the second victim sprang to mind. She was half-emerged from the black waters of the river and wearing a t-shirt. It was too small, Kate recalled, and the words were stretched across her breasts. But upon closing her eyes and focusing on the shirt, wet from the river, Kate began to make out the words. Of course, it would take a second look at the actual image to confirm, but she began to recollect the photo with growing clarity. “WJHS.”

When Kate was in school, at least where she was from, it wasn’t called middle school, but junior high. “W Junior High School.” Although unsure of what the “W” stood for, taking another look at the photo might reveal it. The victim was much older than a middle-schooler; of that, there was already hard evidence. It had to have been something her killer made her wear. This was a clue. The killer had left a clue perhaps deliberately, but there was little doubt in Kate’s mind that this was a lead and she would see it through.

SIX

T
he needle on
the fuel gauge had veered pretty far south and so Arlen figured he’d better stop for gas on his way home from work. Best not to run out in the middle of nowhere because one never knew what was out there late at night. He had to chuckle at the thought.

He pulled into the gas station that would have been the last stop before the final twenty minutes back home. It was only a few miles, but the dark and often muddy roads meant he had to take his time if he didn’t want to be digging his way out of a bog.

Hopping out of the old Chevy truck, Arlen closed the driver’s side door, but not without the familiar creaking sound that echoed beneath the cover of the pump island. There wasn’t anyone else there to take notice anyway. Payday wasn’t for a few more days and, as Arlen pulled open his brown leather wallet that looked worse for wear, he realized he only had forty bucks in cash. This old guzzler would eat that up pretty quickly, maybe even before his next paycheck, and that would leave him with nothing to live off of. He didn’t eat much and probably weighed a buck fifty at best, but he still needed food.

He’d have to split it. Half in gas, half in food, and he hoped that would be enough to see him through. It probably would, so long as he put off his hobby for a while. Not only did it take time to find himself the perfect girl, but it took fuel to drive around doing it. Probably best anyway. He needed to let things cool down for a bit. He’d seen on the news that a body had been found while he was on break at work. Didn’t own a T.V. himself. They hadn’t a clue where it’d come from, just that it washed up downstream and was found by a couple of boys.

In that moment, a familiar feeling passed through him as he recalled the broadcast, bringing about a momentary light-headedness. It was as though he’d forgotten something, and now it gnawed at him. Dismissing the sensation, he returned to the memory of the news story and while he couldn’t be one hundred percent confident it was his girl, he was pretty damn sure it was. Bearing that in mind, caution would have to take precedence in this matter. But that was okay because he wasn’t in a big hurry. After all, it wasn’t about the quantity, it was about the quality. And it meant he’d have to take greater precautions about how he handled the girls once he was done with them. He couldn’t afford to have them washing up all over the place.

Arlen finished pumping the gas and replaced the spout. “$19.78. Damn close to twenty. It’ll do,” he said and walked into the store to pay. Sure, he could’ve bailed on the tab, but it would only bite him in the ass. Drawing that kind of attention for something so stupid would unravel all he had created and it wasn’t worth the risk. “Evenin’.” He smiled at the kid behind the counter. Some pimple-faced twenty-year-old probably working for his dad.

“Evenin’, sir. What pump?” the kid asked.

“Two.” Arlen realized they were probably only a few years apart in age and he soon felt condescension arise from the pimple-faced kid. Like maybe he was better than Arlen. “This your daddy’s shop? I been in a few times, but I think he was probably working then.”

“Yes, sir. I work second shift, after school.” He held out his hand, waiting for Arlen to hand him the twenty that he was rubbing between his fingers.

“College?”

The kid nodded.

“Well, good for you.” Arlen’s smile faded as he handed over the bill.

“Thank you. You know, I just want to be something someday and get out of this town.”

“Oh, I understand that plenty.”

The change was returned. “Thank you for coming in. You have a good night.”

“I plan to.” Arlen stared at the kid. A few beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face and were absorbed by his thickened beard. The outside temperatures wouldn’t have mandated such a response, but this was how it started. Rising heart rate, mild trembling, sweating. The idea of the kill was taking hold. Arlen never went after boys or men, so this was a new sensation for him—and it felt good.

Finally, he broke the stare and his smile returned, although his eyes revealed a seething desire for something much more visceral. “Good night.” He had to breathe in deeply to calm his pulse as he exited the store. The outside air cooled his skin as it dried the sweat that had formed at his neckline.

Arlen shoved the coins into his jeans pocket and stepped back inside the truck. Hunched over his steering wheel, he turned his head in the direction of the small convenience store where the kid quickly turned away. It was as if he’d been watching Arlen, wanting to make sure he would be leaving.

The sensation stared to abate and Arlen laughed as he turned over the truck’s engine, and a puff of black smoke drifted from the exhaust past the back window. “Well, that was new.” He pulled out onto the paved road and turned on the radio to listen to the static-filled broadcast of the fifth game in the World Series. Reception would be lost soon enough and he’d wanted to catch the score.

» » »

Kate was opening the front door of her home before she even realized she’d made it. Her mind was consumed with the girl in the school shirt and each step was mired in deep thought. Looking at the files again was the first thing she needed to do, considering for a moment to reach out to Nick. “No, I can handle this.”

After a quick change of clothes and securing her weapon, Kate returned to the living room and fired up her laptop. She’d have to log into the FBI server and retrieve the files, some of which, however, probably hadn’t yet been uploaded. They’d only just received them this afternoon and it was usually her job to update the files. The image might not be there at all, but sleep would not come if she didn’t at least try.

Even if she was right and the girl was wearing the WJHS t-shirt, the path from there was ambiguous, but she hoped it would mean something. As far as she was concerned, this was her case, hers and Dwight’s, and once again, the chip balanced precariously on Kate’s shoulder as she felt compelled to prove herself.

Logging into the system, Kate searched for the file they’d dubbed “Blackwater.” The Saint Marys River was born from the Okefenokee Swamp and was considered a black water stream due to the nature of the organic material decay. Despite its name, black water rivers were typically some of the cleanest waters and it was only the tannins produced by those decaying plants and other vegetation that gave the water its blackened color.

The file was there, but not all of the information. “Dammit.” No images had yet been uploaded. Kate checked the time on her screen. It was getting late and the idea of calling Dwight at 10:30 to discuss the case probably wasn’t the wisest, although she wouldn’t hesitate to call Nick, but she didn’t have that kind of relationship with Dwight. That was probably a good thing because it meant she wouldn’t lean on him the way she always had with Nick.

Kate considered herself independent, but in reality, there were certain things that drove her to seek help. And others, well, she wouldn’t dream of ever asking, and they usually involved things in her past for which no help could be offered anyway.

She logged off and closed the lid of her laptop. It was out of her hands and it would have to wait until tomorrow.

» » »

Kate appeared outside of Dwight’s office and waited for an invitation.

“Good morning. Come on in.” He noticed her immediately.

“Morning. Did you get the message I left earlier?”

“I did. You should’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up.” Dwight pushed aside some paperwork and gave Kate his full attention.

“Thanks, but it wasn’t too much of a problem. The tow truck dropped me off and I’ll take the train tonight to the mechanic and pick it up. I appreciate it, though.” Kate took her usual seat. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something that I was thinking of last night.”

“Shoot.” He placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands beneath his chin, ready to listen, but his eyes immediately turned toward the door. “Well, hello there.”

Before Kate could utter a word, she spun to see Georgia in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all. What’s up?” Dwight replied.

“Actually,” Kate began. “You might be able to help. You got a second?”

“I only came in to drop off a few things for Nick. I’m leaving later today and I know he’ll be in here on Monday, but—um, sure, I got a second.” Georgia stepped inside. “Is this about the bodies found in the river? Nick mentioned something about it last night.”

“It is, yes. I was wondering if you might consider taking a look at the profiles of the victims. I think our unsub might have left us a clue,” Kate replied.

“You know what?” Dwight picked up his phone. “Let me give Lyons a call. We’re still missing some information, but maybe if we have a quick pow-wow, it might give you a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Dwight pressed the speakerphone button and waited for the line to answer.

“This is Lyons.”

“Agent Lyons, this is Dwight Jameson. Listen, I’ve got you on speakerphone here in my office and I’m with Agents Reid and Myers. Do you have a moment?”

“Georgia Myers?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Nice to hear from you. It’s been a while,” Lyons said.

“Yes, it has. I understand you’ve been directing efforts on this Blackwater investigation?”

“That’s why I wanted to give you a quick call,” Dwight interrupted. “I won’t keep you, but it sounds like you are already aware of Agent Myers’ work. So you know that she’s the best profiler we have.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that,” Lyons replied.

This was a coincidence, Kate thought. Georgia did have a stellar reputation and often consulted on a variety of investigations, but she was unware that the two had been previously acquainted.

“Good. I was thinking we could have Agent Myers do a workup on the information we have to date, which, by the way, it appears as though we are missing the second coroner’s report, if you wouldn’t mind sending that over this morning,” Dwight said.

“Not at all, and I would be happy to have Myers’ help on this. The more eyes the better as far as I’m concerned.”

“Great. Thank you, Agent Lyons. I’ll keep an eye out for the second report and, in the meantime, we’ll continue working on our end. If anything else pops up, we’ll be in touch. Oh, and by the way, SSA Scarborough will be back on Monday. I understand you were initially interested in working with him on this investigation. If that is still your wish…”

“I’m interested only in finding resolution, Agent Jameson, and if that means I’ve got Myers and Reid working on the team, then I’m confident a resolution will be in short order.”

With compulsory goodbyes exchanged, Dwight ended the call. “Thank you, Agent Myers. We’re only scratching the surface on this investigation so far, but with your help, I’m sure we’ll move along much more quickly. I can tell you that I have no desire for another body to be found floating along some river. So, the sooner we find the person who killed those girls, the better.”

“Of course.” Georgia began to rise. “Why don’t you send me what you have and I’ll take a look at it on the plane later today?”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

Kate waited until Georgia was out of sight before speaking again. “It’ll be good to have her helping us out. I had no idea she knew Lyons. Probably should’ve had her come with us to Atlanta. Anyway, back to what I think might be a clue was the second victim’s clothing. Do you have the image Lyons sent over? I haven’t uploaded it yet.”

Dwight entered a command on his keyboard. “Yes, here it is.” He turned the monitor so Kate could see it. “What are you thinking?”

Kate studied the photo of the girl at the crime scene, still in her clothes. Bloated, several contusions suggesting scrapes with either floating debris or the animal life. Evidence of strangulation as was determined to be the actual cause of death. Bulging, hemorrhaging eyes, bruising consistent with the hand markings around her neck. “She looks almost as though her skin has been—dissolved or melted away. Does that make sense to you?”

Dwight came around and sat down next to Kate. His brow narrowed as he looked at the screen. “Possibly. We’d have to look at the coroner’s report, but it definitely looks eroded in a way inconsistent with injuries or even attacks by whatever lives in that water.” He looked back to her. “That’s going to make it even harder to pull DNA.”

“Right, but there’s something else too.” She tried to realign her thoughts, as they’d been distracted by this latest concern. “Take a look at her top.” Kate raised her index finger and placed it on the monitor, outlining the letters on her shirt. “Looks to me like she was wearing a school t-shirt. WJHS.”

“I see it. It doesn’t fit her either—too small.”

“Yeah. I don’t think it was hers. We know the unsub redresses his victims after taking his souvenir, but I think he’s putting them in clothes that he owns.”

“Interesting. You were thinking about this last night?”