Deadly Dance (19 page)

“Can you play it again?” Avery asked, his gaze moving to Harrison, assessing him as much as the video.

“Yes.” Harrison rewound and adjusted the sound levels again, trying to bring the noise they’d heard to the forefront. The result was a bit stronger, although still muffled, the other more horrifying sounds now reduced to the background.

“It’s rhythmic,” Simon said, lines forming on his forehead as he concentrated. “A bell maybe.”

“Or a clanger,” Hannah said, pushing to her feet. “Like a railroad crossing signal.”

“That’s it,” Drake echoed. “They must be near the railroad tracks.” The tracks bisected the far west side of the town.

“But that’s got to be at least five miles,” Simon said. “And there are houses all along the line.”

“Yes, but in order to be able to hear the signal, you’ve got to be at or near a corner. That should narrow it down some,” Avery observed.

Hannah was typing on her computer console. “According to web, there are five corners with audible signals.”

“And we can be fairly certain that he’s chosen the most remote of the five. Fewest houses. Any way to narrow the search down to include that?”

“Doing it now,” Hannah acknowledged, and Harrison marveled at her ability to concentrate and sort through the chaff so quickly.

“All right,” Avery said, pushing out of his chair. “I want everyone else to mobilize. As soon as Hannah’s got
something, we need to be ready. Hannah, you have an address for us yet?”

“I’ve got four possibilities—I’m cross-checking them now against rental properties and empty houses.” She typed something else into the computer, her eyes glued to the screen. “Okay, that narrowed it down to two.”

“Do either of them have a cellar?” Simon asked. “We know that’s part of the fantasy.”

“Checking now. But that’s going to be a little harder. There should be a blueprint through the county planner’s office. But it’s all secured.”

“Move over.” Harrison slid his chair up next to hers so that he could access her keyboard. “Shouldn’t be that hard to get in.” He opened a utility panel and searched the scrolling list of programming, looking for a back door. “There,” he said in triumph. “I’m in.”

Hannah grabbed the keyboard back, typing in the first of the addresses, shaking her head when the computer verified that there was no cellar.

“Try the other one,” Harrison said, eyes on the screen as she typed.

It remained frustratingly blank for a moment and then filled with data. Hannah hit another key, and a blueprint appeared, the line drawing showing both the proximity of the railroad crossing and, even more damning, the presence of a cellar.

T
he white clapboard house showed no sign of habitation. Set back from the street on a corner, it was surrounded by overgrown shrubbery, the tall tangle of bushes isolating it from its only neighbor. To the left and just behind the house, a pair of red lights and the requisite black and white X marked the railroad crossing. The windows were covered with plywood, the porch overgrown with weeds rising up through the floorboards.

Daylight was fading, the cold October wind biting. Red and yellow leaves whirled in unseen eddies, empty tree limbs reaching up toward the sky as the shadows of evening deepened. They approached the house, this time with backup from the local police.

Hannah was filled with a sense of dread as they broke through the front door and made their way through sheet-shrouded rooms until they reached a bedroom in the back. As with the scene before, there was blood everywhere. The bed and the wall behind it were covered
with spatter, a deep stain spreading across the sheets, the remnants of restraints still tied to the bedposts.

“Goddamn it,” Harrison said, turning heel, already heading to the cellar.

Hannah started after him, and then stopped, looking to Avery, who motioned her to go. Sprinting, she followed behind as he took the cellar steps two at a time. There was only one room, and like Sara Lauter, Jasmine Washington was strung up from the rafters crucifixion style, legs and arms splayed, hair matted, her body spattered with blood.

Harrison searched for a pulse as Avery and the rest of the team arrived. “She’s dead. But she’s still warm. It can’t have been that long.”

The words made Hannah’s gut churn. They’d been so close.

“He wanted us to find her,” Harrison said to no one in particular as Tracy moved forward to examine the body. “He needed to prove that he’s still one step ahead of us. That he’s still capable of jerking us around.”

“This isn’t personal,” Avery said.

“The hell it’s not.” Harrison bit out the words, his jaw tight with anger. “This bastard has done his homework. Remember? He sent Sara the picture. He knows about the cyber killer. And if he knows that, then he probably knows about my sister. And me. It wouldn’t be that hard to put the pieces together.”

“Yes, but if he were after you specifically, wouldn’t he have selected more personal targets?” Simon asked.

“That’s what Madison said. But maybe having me involved just feeds the fantasy that he’s recreating the work of the cyber killer.”

“Actually there’s some logic to that,” Tracy said,
looking up from where she was examining Jasmine’s body. “I mean, your being involved pulled Madison and me in as well. And the three of us were part of the team that took over the investigation after Bree’s death.”

“So you’re thinking that the change of locale might have been because Harrison was working at Sunderland.” Drake frowned as he considered the idea.

“It makes sense.” Tracy shrugged, inserting a probe in the body to obtain a liver temperature. “You guys keep a lid on the CIA side of Sunderland, but your professorial roles are public knowledge. And it was a coup for Sunderland to get someone with Harrison’s background. Not only for IT but for your criminology courses. So I’m guessing it made the news. At least among academic circles.”

“And here in New York,” Avery agreed. “We should have seen it before.”

“We haven’t had the time to put it together. Everything has been happening so quickly,” Hannah said. “And even if we had, I don’t think it would have helped us find Jasmine any faster.” The last was meant for Harrison, whose hands were clenched as he fought against his demons.

“Hannah’s right. According to temp and lividity, I’d say Jasmine’s been dead about eight hours.” Tracy pushed to her feet, signaling the hovering forensic tech that it was okay to take photographs.

“But when I touched her, she was warm,” Harrison protested.

“The body loses about one-point-five degrees an hour depending on the surrounding environment,” Tracy said. “It’s cold in here. So even at eighty-six degrees, she’s going to feel a little warm.”

“If she’s been dead eight hours—” Avery began.

“That’s approximate, of course,” Tracy interrupted. “I can be a little more exact after I get her back to the lab for an autopsy. But for all practical purposes, the killer is the only one who can give us an exact time of death.”

“Okay, but the point is, if she’s been dead that long, then he didn’t spend much time with her.”

“You’re right.” Hannah nodded, her mind running over the facts. “Tina said that Jasmine was going to check on Asha this morning. And we know she never opened her shop. So that means it was sometime before seven.”

“And assuming she stuck to the plan and went to the house on her way to work,” Simon said, “I’m guessing that’d mean sometime between six and six-thirty. It’s only a few minutes’ drive from Tina’s house to Java Joe.”

“And this is important because…?” Drake asked.

“Because the cyber killer’s ritual was all about torture.” Harrison ran a hand through his hair, his breathing calmer, but the muscle in his jaw still ticking. “He wanted them to suffer and then die slowly. They estimated he tortured his victims at least twenty-four hours before he killed them.”

“So this is another break with the original,” Avery said. “If he’s a copycat he’s gone way off script.”

“Maybe he let it build into his own fantasy,” Tracy said. “There’s some similarity to the first kill. He raped her. Same MO. A blunt object. But there’s no sign of torture here at all.”

“What about the knife wounds?” Hannah asked, forcing herself to depersonalize the body. “There have to be at least fifteen.”

“They’re all really shallow,” Tracy replied with a shake of her head. “And most of them are postmortem.”

“Meaning that Jasmine was dead when he inflicted the bulk of them?” Simon asked.

“Exactly. Last time, with Sara,” Tracy said, “there were postmortem wounds too, but there were also five or six deeper lacerations inflicted before she died.” She sighed, her eyes moving to the tech who was now carefully photographing Jasmine’s body. “You’ll remember that I told you that the cut to the throat was designed for instant death.”

“Unlike the cyber killer, who wanted to inflict maximum pain,” Harrison added.

“Yes,” Avery said. “And you’re telling us that he’s done that again.”

“Absolutely. Jasmine was dead before she ever left the bedroom. But last time, lividity showed that there was pooling of the blood in Sara’s buttocks and back.”

“Which would mean she was left lying prone for a least a little while after she was dead before being moved downstairs.” Hannah winced as the body moved slightly as a tech slipped by.

“Right.” Tracy nodded. “But this time, all the blood is in the ankles and feet. Which means he didn’t wait. He moved her almost immediately. And she wasn’t as artfully arranged as Sara was. It’s almost like he’s giving us the signature we’re looking for.”

“Except that we’re finding the differences almost immediately,” Drake said, his frustration mirroring everyone else’s in the room. “Or more accurately,
you’re
finding them.”

“Only because I’m trained to.” Tracy shrugged.

“So what are we missing?” Hannah asked, her mind running in circles now.

“The big picture,” Simon agreed. “But how the hell are we supposed to put it together?”

“Well, we’ve got the DNA sample,” Avery reminded them. “Maybe we’ll get a hit off the databases. If we know who we’re up against, it’ll be a lot easier to figure out why he’s here. And where he might strike next.”

“Or if we’re lucky,” Drake added, his gaze dropping to Jasmine’s mutilated body, “we’ll be able to stop him before this happens again.”

“Any progress?” Avery asked as he walked into the A-Tac computer room where Harrison was working. Hannah had been designated to be the one to break the news to Tina again, and Drake and Simon were still at the scene helping Tracy and her team.

“No. It’s like this guy just came out of nowhere. I’ve been running cross-checks against cases I worked back in the day. But most of the people we convicted are still in prison. Three are dead. And the ones that don’t fit any of those categories are still accounted for. And none of them are anywhere near Sunderland.”

“So maybe it’s someone who was peripherally connected to the cyber killer case,” Avery suggested.

“I thought of that,” Harrison acknowledged. “So I checked all the interview notes and made a list of all the people we talked to. Then I checked them for proximity to Sunderland or local criminal activity, and nothing popped. I’ve got a field agent from the Austin FBI office verifying that everyone’s where they’re supposed to be. But I’m not expecting him to find any aberrations.”

“So maybe the connection isn’t from your FBI days,” Avery said, perching on the arm of a chair. “Maybe it’s
something from after that. Someone you investigated when you were a part of Last Chance. Or someone you came across through your work with Phoenix.”

“It’s worth considering. And I’ve run cursory checks. But the truth is, the cases we pursued at the task force didn’t involve the kinds of people who’d revert to serial killings. There’s got to be a basic psychology there. And even allowing for variations in profile, the people we dealt with just aren’t the type. And at Phoenix, it was just program development.”

“Any problems with any of the employees?”

“None that I can remember. And believe me, I’ve been over it. I even gave John Brighton a call. It’s his company. He’s got his people looking, too. But I don’t think they’ll find anything. If this guy is connected to me in some way, it’s nothing that obvious.”

“Well, keep digging.” Avery said. “And concentrate on your time at the FBI. Maybe narrow the focus to cases that you and Madison and Tracy worked. It could be that she was right, and whoever is behind this wanted the three of you back together for some reason.”

The door behind them opened, and Hannah walked in, her expression so grim that Harrison was instantly on alert. “Has something happened?”

“No, thank God.” She shook her head, dropping down into the chair beside Avery. “But I just came from Tina’s, and she’s a wreck. And even though there’s no way this is her fault, I think she’s blaming herself for what happened. If she hadn’t sent Jasmine to her house…”

“He’d probably have found her somewhere else,” Avery said. “Remember, these guys pick their victims.”

“Yes, but we’ve already established that our killer is
coloring outside the lines when it comes to behavior. He’s not following a script. He’s organized and disorganized. And he seems to have been targeting Tina, at least to some extent. I mean, he sent her two videos.” Hannah ran a hand through her hair, the spikey ends sticking up every which way. “I just wish there was something I could say that would make it better.”