Her Dying Breath (20 page)

If she wasn’t Brenda Banks, who was she?

Who had given birth to her and thrown her away?

Why hadn’t her mother wanted her? Had she been young and immature, maybe a teenager? Had her parents forced her to give her up?

Or was she a product of a sexual assault? Maybe a terrible rape, and the girl couldn’t stand looking at a reminder of the heinous crime?

Where was Brenda’s father? Did he even know she existed?

Tears blinded her as the pain rolled through her. Even now, years later, she wondered why her own mother hadn’t loved her enough to keep her. If her mother couldn’t love her, why would anyone else?

Images of the sanitarium taunted her. The big iron gates. The stone building with its turrets, like a haunted castle from medieval times.

The dark corridors and locked doors and screams in the night.

The counselor prescribed medication to help her sleep, but it had only made her crazy.

Either she’d had hallucinations—

Or the things she’d seen had been real.

A siren blared, coming closer, and blue lights twirled against the night sky, drawing her from the memory. Still, for a brief second, she’d been back there. Back in that basement, where she’d followed one of the doctors.

Then running away, when he’d spied her. Running and running down the halls, terrified what they might do to her if they caught her.

Tires screeched, doors opened, and voices pierced the night as Jake, the crime team, and the ME arrived.

Brenda mentally pushed aside the images. She could not fall apart now, or no one would ever respect her as an investigative reporter.

Retrieving her phone from her pocket, she called her cameraman and explained the situation. “Yes, meet me here. The police and crime techs are already at the scene.”

Quickly pocketing her phone, she met Jake at the edge of the woods. “Nick’s over there with the body. I’ll show you.”

Jake and the crew followed her down the trail. Nick was taking pictures with his camera, while flies and other insects swarmed.

This time, Brenda braced herself for the sight. Nick’s dark gaze met hers in a silent question, as if he was concerned about her.

Irritated that she’d shown any weakness, she gave a quick nod. She was human, after all. Maybe Nick had seen dozens of dead bodies in the military and on the job and had grown accustomed to the gruesome images, but this was new territory for her.

Nick greeted his brother, Deputy Waterstone, and the CSI team. The crime techs started taking photographs and combing the scene for forensics, while Jake’s deputy roped off the area.

Jake paused, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the scene. “If this is the same unsub, why toss the body out here?”

“Good question,” Nick said. “The location might have some significance to her.”

“She could be making a statement about throwing him away, saying he’s garbage,” Brenda suggested.

Nick shrugged. “It’s possible, especially if she knew the victim. Maybe he hurt her in some way.”

“Or she just hates all men,” said Brenda.

“I thought all serial killers hated their mothers,” Jake said.

Nick cleared his throat. “That’s a common theory, that the killer suffered trauma or abuse as a child.”

“That fits,” Jake said.

“Although most serial killers are men,” Nick said. “And technically it’s not a serial murder until there are three victims.”

“She’s over halfway there,” Jake said. “And with this MO and the way she left the body, it appears like she’s escalating.”

“The Nettletons died on this curve,” Brenda commented.

Nick and Jake both looked her way, then turned back to the scene. “She’s right,” Nick said. “Maybe she wants us to know that they were murdered trying to expose what was happening at the sanitarium.”

“I guess that’s possible,” Jake said. “We need to identify the victim.”

“I know,” Nick agreed. “Victimology might lead to a suspect.”

“If she’s working alone, she must be strong,” Brenda commented. “She dragged him from the car into the woods a good hundred yards.”

Trees and brush rustled as the crime techs combed the area. The ME rubbed his forehead. “It definitely looks like the same killer—ligature marks the same size and depth, petechial hemorrhaging, rope burns around the wrists and ankles, compression marks where CPR was probably performed.”

Nick eased the man’s head to the side and checked behind his ear. “Yep, she carved a two on his neck.”

“Time of death?” Jake asked.

“I’d guess sometime last night. I’ll know more when I do the autopsy.”

“What about his foot?” Nick asked. “What kind of animal got to him?”

The ME nodded. “The teeth marks look like they were made by a mountain lion, although they’re virtually extinct in the area. Still, some folks say they’ve seen a few around here.”

Headlights beamed from the highway, and the news van screeched to a stop. Brenda started back to meet Louis, but Nick caught her arm.

“Dammit, Brenda, I thought we made a deal.”

“We did,” she said tightly. “But I still have to do my job.”

Uncertainty shadowed his eyes. Could he trust her?

“I won’t cross the line,” she said. “But I have to report this, Nick. The public, the people in town, need to know that a dangerous killer is loose.”

“Fine—then tell them there was another murder, you can even mention that the victim died of strangulation, but don’t mention the MO or our theories about the killer being female. We have to withhold details from the public to keep crazy grandstanders from coming out of the woodwork. We don’t have time to deal with false confessions or phony leads.”

“I understand.”

“And you especially can’t mention the piano wire or the number carved behind the man’s ear. That’s her signature, and I don’t want it leaked.”

“Don’t worry,” Brenda said. “I will protect the investigation, Nick.” If she didn’t, no law officer would ever trust her again. “You should hold a press conference. The men in Slaughter Creek need to be warned not to trust any strange women.”

“Like that’s going to keep a man from picking up a woman,” Nick muttered wryly.

“You’re probably right,” Brenda said. “The danger might turn some men on. But you could release a profile of the killer.”

“Not until I have more information. But when the time comes, I’ll handle it.”

Brenda wove through the trees to meet the news van. Time to paste on a smile for the camera and report the story—at least, the part of it she could tell.

Louis looked freaked out. “Are we going in those woods?”

“No, they won’t let us film the body. We’ll have to wait and talk to Agent Blackwood and the ME when they finish.” Brenda gestured toward the shoulder of the road behind the metal guardrail. Occasionally a car whizzed by, a couple of vehicles slowing as if to see what was going on. She prayed they didn’t stop. It was too dangerous on the curve for them to park.

“You ready?” Louis asked.

She nodded and smoothed down her hair. “This is Brenda Banks, coming to you live from Blindman’s Curve in Slaughter Creek, where the body of a man has been discovered. At this point,
the victim has not been identified, but Sheriff Jake Blackwood and Special Agent Nick Blackwood are on the scene.”

Louis panned the camera over to their vehicles, then back to her.

“The medical examiner is conducting a preliminary exam of the body although an autopsy will be performed to establish cause and time of death. A crime unit is also searching for evidence the killer may have left behind.”

Louis captured footage of the woods as she spoke. “Police have neither confirmed nor denied that this man’s murder is connected to Jim Logger’s, but they are looking into that possibility. If anyone saw or heard anything suspicious around Blindman’s Curve in the last twenty-four hours, please report it to the authorities. We will bring you more on the story as it unfolds.”

She wrapped up the tape by listing the phone numbers to call.

“Are we done?” Louis asked.

Brenda shook her head. “No, let’s wait until the medics carry the body to the ambulance.” As morbid as it sounded, viewers wanted to feel like they were part of the scene.

Nothing hyped up publicity better than a body bag with a man’s corpse inside.

Of course, to have her handiwork shown off on the news was exactly what the killer wanted.

Brenda scanned the woods and hills, searching for a pair of eyes.

Was the killer watching now?

The ME motioned for Nick and Jake to follow him over to the body. He brushed away several insects, then pointed to the man’s neck. “See the ligature marks?”

“Yes, it looks like repeated strangulations.”

The ME nodded. “Although there are numerous marks from the piano wire where the pressure from the killer was uneven, there are seven distinct indentations in the skin.” His brow furrowed as he looked up at them. “Those seven lines are deeper. It appears that the killer lifted the wire, then placed it back, increasing the pressure but forming a pattern.”

“Amelia said the Commander didn’t assign the subjects names, only numbers. She was Three,” Jake said.

“And the killer gave her name as Seven in the last message she sent to Brenda,” Nick said. A knot of anxiety squeezed his belly. “If Seven is her name, and her pattern on the killers is also seven, is she planning to kill seven men to make her point?”

Seven paced the top of the mountain ridge. Seven paces to the right, seven paces forward, seven to the left, seven to the right again. A perfect square.

Then she started all over again.

Seven times until she could stop.

She didn’t want to miss the show down on Blindman’s Curve. She’d seen Nick Blackwood and Brenda arrive and watched them find her gift. This one was a little messier than the last, but he deserved it.

She lifted her wrists and studied her own scars, remembering the brutal way the man had bound her. Even as she’d bled and begged him to finish her, he’d saved her.

All because of the Commander’s orders.

She smiled as she watched Brenda in front of the camera.

Why wasn’t Brenda taking the camera into the woods? Why was she staying on the side of the road?

Brenda was supposed to show everyone what Seven had done to the man. She was supposed to let everyone see his shame and
humiliation, his corpse being used as a meal for the insects in the woods.

She began to pace again, her body twitching with adrenaline and anger. She’d chosen Brenda because she expected her to showcase her handiwork.

Because she’d make sure all the people in Slaughter Creek, especially the Commander, realized they weren’t safe.

Because of who Brenda was.

But if Brenda didn’t do her justice, she’d pay. Just like the others.

N
ick grimaced as the medics hauled the corpse from the woods and loaded it into the back of the ambulance.

Brenda headed toward him as the medics pulled away, her cameraman in tow. “Special Agent Blackwood, what can you tell us about the body you discovered here tonight?”

Nick forced his voice to be even. “The body belonged to a man, probably midthirties. We have no ID yet, but we’re working on that now.”