The Defenseless (2 page)

Chapter 1

Current day

December 15th, 6 a.m.

Denver, Colorado

The plane touched down at Denver International Airport just after six in the morning. I was happy to have the tumultuous flight over with, and thought it should have been canceled, but apparently those responsible for that sort of thing had cleared take-off.

Flying typically didn
’t bother me, but high winds and various temperature pockets had buffeted the plane, rocking it almost like a ship at sea, only we were thirty thousand feet in the air. Land never looked so good.

Zachery slapped me on the back and had me lurching forward from the momentum.
“We made it, Pending.”

Months into my probationary period but still not clear of it—something I was reminded of all the time by his beloved nickname.

Jack brushed past, leading the three of us through the airport, no doubt driven by the undying urge for a cigarette. Paige hung back, and when I turned, she pushed a rogue strand of hair from her eyes and dipped to the left as she shifted the position of her suitcase strap on her right shoulder.

We were called to Colorado because some old-timer detective by the name of Mack McClellan was certain the area had a serial killer. He believed it strongly enough we were convinced as well.

The label
serial killer
no longer fazed me, and it only took a few horrid cases to rub off its shock value.

Regular people, who didn’t have to hunt down murderers, lived life as if they were merely characters fabricated for entertainment purposes. The dark truth was, conservatively, there were an estimated
thirty-five to fifty serial killers in the United States at any given time.

The local FBI office was to provide us with transportation, but it was the local detective who insisted on meeting us at the airport and bringing us up to speed.

Stepping out of the warm cocoon of the airport into the brisk winter air of Denver stole my breath. It had me wanting to retreat back inside for the warm, blowing vents.

For recreational purposes, Denver would be an ideal location to spend the Christmas season, with its mountain slopes and deep snow. Even facing the search for a killer,
I’d rather be here, miles away from home, than facing the emptiness of the house on Christmas day.

This would be the first year without Deb. The only thing that could make it better was reconciliation, but we were beyond that point. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure if I’d take her back. The divorce was already filed, and knowing my penchant for attracting negative events, it would be official in time for the holiday. It didn’t matter though. I had found a way to move forward in my life—at least I told myself that. Maybe I was burying my feelings, but I preferred to think I healed faster than most.

“Hey, there they are.”

A man pushed off the hood of a Crown Vic, the cup in his hand steaming in the cold air. At full height, he was all of five eight. His hair was sparse, and reminded me of a Chia Pet just starting to grow, but what he did have was a dark blond. He wore a thigh-length wool parka, zipped up shy of his collar by about six inches. It revealed a white collared shirt and a blue tie with white dots. I wondered if he dressed this way all the time or only when the FBI was in town.

He put his cup on the car roof and came toward us with another man who wore a fur-lined leather jacket paired with blue jeans, which appeared stiff due to the mountain air.

It had me wondering which scenario was more uncomfortable, frozen stiff jeans, or breezy dress pants. I experienced the latter and questioned the wardrobe I had brought, wondering if I
’d be warm enough.

Curse winter and all that
’s white.

“Gentleman, I’m Mack McClellan.” The man in the parka extended his hand, first to Jack.
He must have sensed his authority despite the lit cigarette.

Jack took a quick inhale and
blew a stream of white pollution out the side of his mouth
as he shook the man
’s hand. “Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper, and this is my team.” Jack left us to introduce ourselves.

McClellan
’s gaze settled on me, and I surmised what he was thinking—I was the young guy on the team, the inexperienced one he’d have to watch.

He gestured to the man with him.
“This is Detective Ronnie Hogan. He’s also with Denver PD. We’re not partners, but he’s of the same mind. There’s a serial at play here.”

Hogan bobbed his head forward as a greeting, but made no effort to extend a hand. His eyes were brown and hard to read. He had etched crease lines in his brow, but he also had smile lines, so there was some promise there. Not that we witnessed the expression.

McClellan grinned
with a warmth that touched his eyes, giving me the impression he was
used to Hogan
’s aloofness. “Glad to see you made it all right. It’s quite the weather we’re having these days. How was your flight?”

Jack took another drag on his cigarette. “Over now.”

His retort killed the expression on the detective
’s face. “A man who is all business, I see. So, the dead body. You know the name and details.”

Another pull on the cigarette, and Jack flicked the glowing butt to the ground and extinguished it with the twist of a shoe.

“We know what the file says, but we like to go over everything in person.” Paige smiled at the detectives, no doubt trying to compensate for Jack’s crass behavior.

“Well, let us fill you in on the way to where the body was found. My, it’s mighty cold out here.” He rubbed his hands together and grabbed his cup before going around to the driver’s side. “For everyone to be more comfortable, two of you can come with me, and the other two can go with Hogan.”

McClellan seemed like an open book—what you saw was what you got. With Hogan, there was something about him, whether it was his skepticism or what, I wasn
’t sure. A quality that should repel actually made me want to get to know him.

“I’ll go with Hogan.”
Paige and I spoke at the same time.

Our eyes connected. In the past this symmetry in thought would have elicited a smile from both of us. These days our relationship was more complicated.

Paige stepped back and sought Jack’s direction. “I’ll go with whomever you want me to.”

“It’s fine. You guys go with Hogan. We’ll all catch up at the crime scene.”

She went past me and held out her hand to Hogan.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

Hogan stared at her extended hand and, eventually,
conceded to a handshake.
The greeting was over quick.

As he was getting into the driver
’s seat, I whispered in Paige’s ear. “He’s not really the touchy-feely kind, is he?”

Chapter 2

“Things must be slow for you guys if you’re willing to come all the way here for this case.” Hogan kept his eyes on the road, his voice level as he spoke. He made a quick pass of a slower-moving vehicle.

My fingers gripped the armrest on the door, indenting the foam beneath it.
“You’re not buying that it’s a serial at work?”

A small snort, which could have been construed as a laugh.
“I’m not saying anything. McClellan can be a convincing man. I agree the situations surrounding these men are similar. Whether that means anything more, I haven’t fully decided.”

He touched the brakes, and the back end of the car lost traction and swayed to the right. No one else seemed to notice or care.

“How long have you been with Denver PD?” Paige asked.

It warranted a quick, sideways glance from Hogan.
“Is this where you try to get to know me better?”

Paige
’s jaw tightened. “If you don’t like people, why are you a cop?”

I settled in to the seat, happy that I wasn’t on the receiving end for a change. Part of me wished to be elsewhere, the other part wondered who would come out the victor.

“Who says I don’t like people? I like people. I just don’t like feds.”

“And what have we done to you?”

Hogan kept his eyes straight ahead. “McClellan feels the latest victim was left there for us to find. Like this guy wants to get caught.”

“So that’s how you get by in life? You shut people down who try to get close.”

“You want to get close to me, sweetheart, we’ll do it after hours, but now’s the job.”

Air rushed from Paige
’s mouth, skimming over teeth and making a
whooshing
sound on the exhale. She knotted her arms and kicked her back into the seat as she did so.

Hogan didn
’t give any indication he was affected by her response. He took a street on the right, made a quick left, parked, and cut the engine. “We’re here.”

“I’m glad you told us,” Paige mumbled and got out of the car.

We had beat the other detective and the rest of our team, but as we made our way toward the dumpster, the department-issued sedan pulled in, crunching snow beneath the wheels.

When we were all standing around the dumpster at the back of Lynn
’s Bakery, McClellan pointed to the right of the bin.

“The body was found right there. He was covered in snow, with only the tip of his boots showing. The waste removal company found him when they came to empty the bin. At first they thought someone was too lazy to pick up the trash and dispose of it properly. They stepped out to lift it and got more than they expected.”

“Something that they even got out of the vehicle. Most would carry on and not care. They’re hired to empty the container, not clean up the surrounding area,” Paige said.

“Exactly what I thought.”

“Did you question the garbage man?”

“Yeah. Even pulled a background. Nothing came of it.”

“Name’s Craig Bowen,” Zachery interjected.

McClellan seemed impressed by Zachery.
“Read that in the file? Good memory. Cause of death?”

“Rat poison.”

The man had no idea with whom he was dealing.

“Impressive. Now this guy didn’t go silently, or easily, that’s for sure.”

“And you think this is connected to animal cruelty cases?” I asked the question to get things moving forward.

“Yes, I do. The vic’s name was Darren Simpson. Twenty-six years ago he was charged with feeding his dog rat poison, but the charges didn’t stick. The guy walked. It was big news around here.”

“Animal cruelty cases are big news?”

“Well, there’s a spot for them in the paper. Bigger news years ago than it is these days.”

“So this guy was accused of poisoning animals twenty-six years ago and you think someone’s coming back for revenge now?” Paige asked.

“Exactly what I’m thinking.”

Hogan rolled his eyes.

I gestured to him and addressed McClellan.
“Your friend here doesn’t seem convinced.”

McClellan smirked.
“Nothing much fazes Hogan, but he does concede to the line of thought that
something
is going on here.
”

“The file mentions there are a few missing men, and this is why you’re convinced there’s a serial killer,” Zachery said.

“Yes. Two date back a bit ago. Dean Garner went missing in two thousand nine. Charges against him were microwaving a Chihuahua. They were dropped because there wasn’t enough evidence. Karl Ball was charged with pit-bull fighting, but got off on a technicality. He went missing in two thousand ten.”

“So, our victim poisoned his dog and then dies of poisoning,” I made the summation. “It certainly sounds like more than a coincidence.”

“Our unsub is targeting animal abusers who beat the charges. He carries out his own sort of vigilante justice, bringing the same punishment upon them as they inflicted,” Zachery said.

Paige tossed some hair behind her shoulder. “Is it wrong to side with a killer in this case? What kind of monster abuses animals? They rely on us for protection, for food, for shelter, for love, and how are they repaid? Abuse. The thought makes
me
angry enough to kill.”

“He?” McClellan picked up on Zachery’s reference to gender. He rested his hands on his hips and drummed his fingers there.

“It’s a logical deduction to presume the killer we seek is male. The targeted victims are men for one,” Zachery explained.

“But poison? Isn’t that a common method for females?”

“It is, however, no women that fit the profile of being animal abusers are missing, are they?”

“No.”

“That lends it toward being a man hunting other men.”

Hogan stepped toward Paige.
“All I know is this guy needs to be stopped. These are people he’s killing, not animals.”

Paige’s jaw jutted up. “You sure?”

“I agree they were charged with barbaric acts, but they deserve to be heard and have a fair trial.”

“Guess you do like people.” Paige secured eye contact with Hogan. He turned away first.

Jack slipped a hand into his coat pocket. “While the background is good to have, the real reason we’re here is because you feel the threat is still viable, and you convinced us of that. What really got our attention was the recently missing man.”

McClellan nodded.
“His name is Gene Lyons. Wife reported him five days ago, but after Simpson, we realized the similarities. He was charged with animal neglect, resulting in a beagle barely hanging onto life. They nursed him back at significant expense, only to find out, in the end, the dog’s mind had snapped. They had to put him down. The charge against Lyons was made twenty-five years ago.”

Anger ripped through me. The man we hunted—was he a monster or a hero? What sane human being wouldn
’t consider, even with a passing thought, the execution of revenge on those who abused animals? This case would be a tough one.

“The file said that all four men were married,” Zachery said. “Four, including Simpson, our murdered victim.”

A slow nod from McClellan.
“Not all happily, but in somewhat committed relationships.”

“Did you speak with them?” Jack asked.

McClellan answered.
“Oh yeah. Let’s just say the women in these men’s lives are interesting. We’ll leave it at that. They had alibis, if you want to call them that. Of course, you say you’re looking for a man…but the strongest defense was Simpson’s wife, who was spending the night in jail for a drunk and disorderly. Let’s just say some people dance to the beat of a different drummer. These would be them.”

“The file said Garner’s wife, Jill, was home watching TV when she decided enough time had passed and her husband should be home. Ball’s wife, Renee, was out drinking with her girlfriends at the time of his disappearance.” Zachery burrowed his hands into his coat pockets. “With Lyons, the wife was trying to hunt him down for some spending money and couldn’t find him. She didn’t really know exactly when he went missing.”

“Correct on all counts. Lyons and his wife were separated but making it work like that. They led separate lives, except when it came to finances. He carried her.”

“His line of work?”

“A computer geek.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Just when you’d think he’d be harmless, he’s at home abusing the dog.” Paige bounced, in what appeared to be an effort to fend off the cold.

“Why don’t we go inside Lynn’s? She’s got hot coffee and baked goods you would die for. Besides, there’s no sense us standing outside and freezing.”

“Sounds good to me.” Paige smiled.

Jack nodded and the team followed the local detectives.

*****

Lynn’s Bakery was a family-run business. It hadn’t been touched by corporate America with their flashy monikers that signified a franchise. Stepping inside, the warmth made my cheeks tingle and encased me in a metaphorical hug, while the smell of cinnamon buns and apple pie baking in the oven tantalized.

In a front display case there was an assortment of baked goods, which included cookies, muffins, scones, donuts, pastries, and cakes. Everything came in a seemingly endless variety. On the counter were more tiered confections, with slices missing, displayed in glass domes. A wooden easel held a chalkboard sign that read
Please seat yourself.

We followed its direction and pushed two tables together.

McClellan gestured to a waitress. She was maybe twenty and had
long brown hair that was swept back into a loose ponytail, with the exception of two curly strands that dangled in front of each ear. Her eyes were pale green and she didn
’t wear any makeup. Stitched onto her uniform was the name
Annie
. She held a pen in her left hand and a small notepad in her right.

“You guys all here ’cause of—” She gestured with the end of the pen behind her shoulder, denoting the back alley.

“Now, what have I told you, Annie?” Detective McClellan sustained eye contact with her.

“Dad, I’m just curious. It’s not a big deal. You guys are all FBI?” She smiled at me.

Paige didn
’t miss the attention I received and raised her brow.

“We’re here to warm up, not to meet and greet,” McClellan directed her.

Annie
’s shoulders sagged and her hips jutted to the right. “Fine.”

“All right, so we’ll each have a coffee and a Christmas special cookie.”

Annie’s pen never met paper and she walked away. I was left wondering a couple things, one being, what was a “
Christmas special cookie
?”

I voiced my other observation. “You never told us your daughter worked here.”

McClellan waved a dismissive hand.
“What does it really matter? She didn’t kill that man.”

“That you know of.”

“You’re serious? I thought you said that it was a—”

I smiled at the detective, basking in putting him on the boiler plate, if only for a second.

He grimaced in return and rested his hand on a napkin. He fanned up its edge and repeated the cycle a few times.
“As we were starting to discuss out—”

Annie put a coffee in front of Jack.
“You must be the boss. It’s easy to tell.”

Did I deduct an underlying smile from Jack?

“I am.” He reached for a sugar packet from a small glass bowl in the middle of the table.

She set the tray down with the rest of our coffees and extended a hand to Jack.
“I’m Annie.”

He shook her hand.
“Jack Harper.”