Kitabı oku: «Once Lured», sayfa 2

CHAPTER TWO

Riley’s spirits sank as she looked at the two images looming on screens above the BAU conference room table. One was a photo of a carefree girl with bright eyes and a winning smile. The other was her corpse, horribly emaciated and lying with her arms pointed in odd directions. Since she had been ordered to attend this meeting, Riley knew there must be other victims like this one.

Sam Flores, a savvy lab technician with black-rimmed glasses, was running the multimedia display for the four other agents seated around the table.

“These pictures are of Metta Lunoe, seventeen years old,” Flores said. “Her family lives in Collierville, New Jersey. Her parents reported her missing in March – a runaway.”

He added a huge map of Delaware to the display, indicating a location with a pointer.

He said, “Her body turned up in a field outside of Mowbray, Delaware, on May sixteenth. Her neck had been broken.”

Flores brought up another pair of images – one showing another vibrant young girl, the other showing her almost unrecognizably withered, her arms stretched out in a similar way.

“These pictures are of Valerie Bruner, also seventeen, a reported runaway from Norbury, Virginia. She disappeared in April.”

Flores pointed to another location on the map.

“Her body was found stretched out in a dirt road near Redditch, Delaware, on June twelfth. Obviously the same MO as the earlier killing. Agent Jeffreys was brought in to investigate.”

Riley was startled. How could Bill have worked on a case that hadn’t involved her? Then she remembered. In June, she had been hospitalized, recovering from her horrible ordeal in Peterson’s cage. Even so, Bill had visited her frequently in the hospital. He’d never mentioned that he was also working this case.

She turned toward Bill.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” she asked.

Bill’s face looked grim.

“It wasn’t a good time,” he said. “You had troubles of your own.”

“Who was your partner?” Riley asked.

“Agent Remsen.”

Riley recognized the name. Bruce Remsen had transferred out of Quantico before she had come back to work.

Then after a pause, Bill added, “I couldn’t crack the case.”

Now Riley could read his expression and tone of voice. After years of friendship and partnership, she understood Bill as well as anybody did. And she knew that he was deeply disappointed with himself.

Flores brought up the medical examiner’s photos of the girls’ naked backs. The bodies were so wasted away that they barely seemed real. Both backs bore old scars and fresh welts.

Riley felt a gnawing discomfort all over now. She was taken aback by the feeling. Since when had she gotten queasy about photos of corpses?

Flores said, “They were both starved almost to death before their necks were broken. They were also severely beaten, probably over a long period of time. Their bodies were moved to where they were found postmortem. We have no idea where they were actually killed.”

Trying not to let her rising unease get the best of her, Riley mulled over similarities with cases she and Bill had solved during the last few months. The so-called “dolly killer” had left his victims’ bodies where they could be easily found, posed naked in grotesque doll-like positions. The “chain killer” hung the bodies of his victims up off the ground, wildly decked in heavy chains.

Now Flores brought up the image of another young woman – a cheerful-looking redhead. Alongside the photo was one of a beat-up, empty Toyota.

“This car belonged to a twenty-four-year-old Irish immigrant named Meara Keagan,” Flores said. “She was reported missing yesterday morning. Her car was found abandoned just outside an apartment building in Westree, Delaware. She worked there for a family as maid and nanny.”

Now Special Agent Brent Meredith spoke. He was a daunting, big-boned African-American with angular features and a no-nonsense demeanor.

“She got off her shift at eleven o’clock the night before last,” Meredith said. “The car was found early the next morning.”

Special Agent in Charge Carl Walder leaned forward in his chair. He was Brent Meredith’s boss – a babyish, freckle-faced man with curly, copper-colored hair. Riley didn’t like him. She didn’t think he was especially competent. It didn’t help that he’d once fired her.

“Why do we think this disappearance is linked with the earlier murders?” Walder asked. “Meara Keagan is older than the other victims.”

Now Lucy Vargas chimed in. She was a bright young rookie with dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion.

“You can see by the map. Keagan disappeared in the same general area where the two bodies were found. It might be coincidence, but it seems unlikely. Not over a period of five months, all so close together.”

Despite her increasing discomfort, Riley was pleased at the sight of Walder wincing a little. Without meaning to, Lucy had put him in his place. Riley hoped he wouldn’t find some way to get back at Lucy later on. Walder could be petty that way.

“That’s correct, Agent Vargas,” Meredith said. “Our guess is that the younger girls were abducted while hitchhiking. Very likely along this highway that runs through the area.” He pointed out a specific line on the map.

Lucy asked, “Isn’t hitchhiking banned in Delaware?” She added, “Of course, that can be hard to enforce.”

“You’re right about that,” Meredith said. “And this isn’t an interstate or even the main state highway, so hitchhikers probably do use it. Apparently the killer does too. One body was found alongside this road and the other two are less than ten miles from it. Keagan was taken about sixty miles north along that same route. With her he used a different ruse. If he follows his usual pattern, he’ll keep her until she’s almost starved to death. Then he’ll break her neck and leave her body the same way as before.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bill said in a tight voice.

Meredith said, “Agents Paige and Jeffreys, I want to you to get right to work on this.” He pushed a manila folder stuffed with photos and reports across the table toward Riley. “Agent Paige, here’s all the info you need to bring you up to speed.”

Riley reached toward the folder. But her hand jerked back with a spasm of horrible anxiety.

What’s the matter with me?

Her head was spinning, and out-of-focus images started to take shape in her brain. Was this PTSD from the Peterson case? No, it was different. It was something else entirely.

Riley got up from her chair and fled the conference room. As she hurried down the hallway toward her office, the images in her head came into sharper focus.

They were faces – faces of women and girls.

She saw Mitzi, Koreen, and Tantra – young call girls whose respectable attire masked their degradation even from themselves.

She saw Justine, an aging whore hunched over a drink at a bar, tired and bitter and fully prepared to die an ugly death.

She saw Chrissy, virtually imprisoned in a brothel by her abusive pimp husband.

And worst of all, she saw Trinda, a fifteen-year-old girl who had already lived a nightmare of sexual exploitation, and who could imagine no other life.

Riley arrived in her office and collapsed into her chair. Now she understood her onslaught of revulsion. The images she’d seen just now had been a trigger. They’d brought to the surface her darkest misgivings about the Phoenix case. She’d stopped a brutal murderer, but she hadn’t brought justice to the women and girls she’d met. A whole world of exploitation remained. She hadn’t even scratched the surface of the wrongs they endured.

And now she was haunted and troubled in a way she’d never known before. This seemed worse than PTSD to her. After all, she could give vent to her private rage and horror in a sparring gym. She had no way to get rid of these new feelings.

And could she bring herself to work another case like Phoenix?

She heard Bill’s voice at the door.

“Riley.”

She looked up and saw her partner looking at her with a sad expression. He was holding the folder Meredith had tried to give her.

“I need you on this case,” Bill said. “It’s personal for me. It makes me crazy that I couldn’t crack it. And can’t help wondering if I was off my game because my marriage was falling apart. I got to know Valerie Bruner’s family. They’re good people. But I haven’t stayed in touch with them because … well, I let them down. I’ve got to make things right with them.”

He put the folder on Riley’s desk.

“Just look at this. Please.”

He left Riley’s office. She sat staring at the folder in a state of indecision.

This wasn’t like her. She knew she had to snap out of it.

As she mulled things over, she remembered something from her time in Phoenix. She had been able to save one girl named Jilly. Or at least she had tried.

She took out her phone and dialed the number for a shelter for teenagers in Phoenix, Arizona. A familiar voice came on the line.

“This is Brenda Fitch.”

Riley was glad that Brenda took the call. She’d gotten to know the social worker during her previous case.

“Hi, Brenda,” she said. “This is Riley. I just thought I’d check in on Jilly.”

Jilly was a girl that Riley had rescued from sex trafficking – a skinny, dark-haired thirteen-year-old. Jilly had no family except for an abusive father. Riley called every so often to find out how Jilly was doing.

Riley heard a sigh from Brenda.

“It’s good of you to call,” Brenda said. “I wish more people showed some concern. Jilly’s still with us.”

Riley’s heart sank. She hoped that someday she’d call and be told that Jilly had been taken in by a kindly foster family. This wasn’t going to be that day. Now Riley was worried.

She said, “The last time we talked, you were afraid you’d have to send her back to her father.”

“Oh, no, we’ve got that legally sorted out. We’ve even got a restraining order to keep him away from her.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Jilly asks about you all the time,” Brenda said. “Would you like to talk to her?”

“Yes. Please.”

Brenda put Riley on hold. Riley suddenly wondered whether this was such a good idea. Whenever she talked to Jilly, she wound up feeling guilty. She couldn’t understand why she felt that way. After all, she had saved Jilly from a life of exploitation and abuse.

But saved her for what? she wondered. What kind of life did Jilly have to look forward to?

She heard Jilly’s voice.

“Hey, Agent Paige.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Sorry. Hey, Riley.”

Riley chuckled a little.

“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.”

A silence fell.

A typical teenager, Riley thought. It was always hard to get Jilly talking.

“So what are you up to?” Riley asked.

“Just waking up,” Jilly said, sounding a bit groggy. “Going to eat breakfast.”

Riley then realized that it was three hours earlier in Phoenix.

“I’m sorry to call so early,” Riley said. “I keep forgetting about the time difference.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice of you to call.”

Riley heard a yawn.

“So are you going to school today?” Riley asked.

“Yeah. They let us out of the joint every day to do that.”

It was Jilly’s little running joke, calling the shelter the “joint” as if it were a prison. Riley didn’t find it very funny.

Riley said, “Well, I’ll let you go have breakfast and get ready.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Jilly said.

Another silence fell. Riley thought she heard Jilly choke back a sob.

“Nobody wants me, Riley,” Jilly said. She was crying now. “Foster families keep passing me over. They don’t like my past.”

Riley was staggered.

Her “past”? she thought. Jesus, how can a thirteen-year-old have a “past”? What’s the matter with people?

“I’m sorry,” Riley said.

Jilly spoke haltingly through her tears.

“It’s like … well, you know, it’s … I mean, Riley, it seems like you’re the only one who cares.”

Riley’s throat ached and her eyes stung. She couldn’t reply.

Jilly said, “Couldn’t I come to live with you? I won’t be much trouble. You’ve got a daughter, right? She could be like my sister. We could look after each other. I miss you.”

Riley struggled to speak.

“I … I don’t think that’s possible, Jilly.”

“Why not?”

Riley felt devastated. The question struck her like a bullet.

“It’s just … not possible,” Riley said.

She could still hear Jilly crying.

“Okay,” Jilly said. “I’ve got to head over to breakfast. Bye.”

“Bye,” Riley said. “I’ll call again soon.”

She heard a click as Jilly ended the call. Riley bent over her desk, tears running down her own face. Jilly’s question kept echoing through her head …

“Why not?”

There were a thousand reasons. She had her hands full with April as it was. Her job was too consuming, both of her time and energy. And was she in any way qualified or prepared to deal with Jilly’s psychological scarring? Of course she wasn’t.

Riley wiped her eyes and sat upright. Indulging in self-pity wasn’t going to help anybody. It was time to get back to work. Girls were dying out there, and they needed her.

She picked up the folder and opened it. Was it time, she wondered, to get back in the arena?

CHAPTER THREE

Scratch sat on his front porch swing watching the kids come and go in their Halloween costumes. He usually enjoyed having trick-or-treaters come around. But it seemed a bittersweet occasion this year.

How many of these kids will be alive in just a few weeks? he wondered.

He sighed. Probably none of them. The deadline was near and no one was paying attention to his messages.

The porch swing chains were creaking. There was a light, warm rain falling, and Scratch hoped that the kids wouldn’t catch cold. He had a basket of candy on his lap, and he was being pretty generous. It was getting late, and soon there would be no more kids.

In Scratch’s mind Grandpa was still complaining, even though the cranky old man had died years ago. And it didn’t matter that Scratch was grown now, he was never free from the old man’s advice.

“Look at that one in the cloak and the black plastic mask,” Grandpa said. “Call that a costume?”

Scratch hoped that he and Grandpa weren’t about to have another argument.

“He’s dressed up as Darth Vader, Grandpa,” he said.

“I don’t care who the hell he’s supposed to be. It’s a cheap, store-bought outfit. When I took you trick-or-treating, we always made your costumes for you.”

Scratch remembered those costumes. To turn him into a mummy, Grandpa had wrapped him up in torn-up bed sheets. To make him into a knight in shining armor, Grandpa had decked him out in cumbersome poster board covered with aluminum foil, and he’d carried a lance made out of a broomstick. Grandpa’s costumes were always creative.

Still, Scratch didn’t remember those Halloweens fondly. Grandpa would always curse and complain while getting him into those outfits. And when Scratch got home from trick-or-treating … for a moment, Scratch felt like a little boy again. He knew that Grandpa was always right. Scratch didn’t always understand why, but that didn’t matter. Grandpa was right, and he was wrong. That was just the way things were. It was the way things had always been.

Scratch had been relieved when he got too old for trick-or-treating. Ever since then, he’d been free to sit on the porch dispensing candy to kids. He was happy for them. He was glad that they were enjoying childhood, even if he hadn’t.

Three kids clambered up onto the porch. A boy was dressed as Spiderman, a girl as Catwoman. They looked about nine years old. The third kid’s costume made Scratch smile. A little girl, about seven years old, was wearing a bumblebee outfit.

“Trick-or-treat!” they all shouted as they gathered in front of Scratch.

Scratch chuckled and rummaged around in the basket for candy. He gave some to the kids, who thanked him and went away.

“Stop giving them candy!” Grandpa growled. “When are you going to stop encouraging the little bastards?”

Scratch had been quietly defying Grandpa for a couple of hours now. He’d have to pay for it later.

Meanwhile, Grandpa was still grumbling. “Don’t forget, we’ve got work to do tomorrow night.”

Scratch didn’t reply, just listened to the creaking porch swing. No, he wouldn’t forget what had to be done tomorrow night. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done.

*

Libby Clark followed her big brother and her cousin into the dark woods that lay behind all the neighborhood backyards. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be home snugly in bed.

Her brother, Gary, was leading the way, carrying a flashlight. He looked all weird in his Spiderman costume. Her cousin Denise was following Gary in her Catwoman outfit. Libby was trotting along behind both of them.

“Come on, you two,” Gary said, pushing ahead.

He slid between two bushes just fine, and so did Denise, but Libby’s costume was all puffy and got caught on some branches. Now she had something new to be scared about. If the bumblebee costume got ruined, Mommy would have a fit. Libby managed to get untangled and scurried to catch up.

“I want to go home,” Libby said.

“Go right ahead,” Gary said, moving right along.

But of course Libby was too scared to go back. They had come way too far already. She didn’t dare go back alone.

“Maybe we all should go back,” Denise said. “Libby’s scared.”

Gary stopped and turned around. Libby wished she could see his face behind that mask.

“What’s the matter, Denise?” he said. “Are you scared too?”

Denise laughed nervously.

“No,” she said. Libby could tell she was lying.

“Then come on, both of you,” Gary said.

The little group kept on moving. The ground was soggy and slimy, and Libby was up to her knees in wet weeds. At least it had stopped raining. The moon was starting to show through the clouds. But it was also getting colder, and Libby was damp all over, and she was shivering, and she was really, really scared.

Finally the trees and bushes opened onto a large clearing. Steam was rising up from the wet ground. Gary stopped right up to the edge of the space, and so did Denise and Libby.

“Here it is,” Gary whispered, pointing. “Lookit – it’s square, just like there was supposed to be a house or something here. But there’s not a house. There’s nothing. Trees and bushes can’t even grow here. Just weeds is all. That’s because it’s cursed ground. Ghosts live here.”

Libby reminded herself of what Daddy said.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Even so, her knees were shaking. She was afraid she was going to pee herself. Mommy sure wouldn’t like that.

“What are those?” Denise asked.

She pointed to two shapes rising up out of the ground. To Libby they looked like big pipes that were bent over at the top, and they were almost completely covered with ivy.

“I don’t know,” Gary said. “They remind me of submarine periscopes. Maybe the ghosts are watching us. Go take a look, Denise.”

Denise let out a scared-sounding laugh.

“You have a look!” Denise said.

“Okay, I will,” Gary said.

Gary stepped none too boldly out into the clearing and walked toward one of the shapes. He stopped in his tracks about three feet away from it. Then he turned around and came back to rejoin his cousin and sister.

“I can’t tell what it is,” he said.

Denise laughed again. “That’s because you didn’t even look!” she said.

“Did so,” Gary said.

“Did not! You didn’t even get near it!”

“I did so get near it. If you’re so curious, go check it out yourself.”

Denise didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she trotted out onto the bare patch. She got a little closer to the shape than Gary, but she trotted straight back without stopping.

“I don’t know what it is either,” she said.

“It’s your turn to look, Libby,” Gary said.

Libby’s fear was creeping up in her throat just like that ivy.

“Don’t make her go, Gary,” Denise said. “She’s too little.”

“She’s not too little. She’s growing up. It’s time she acted like it.”

Gary gave Libby a sharp shove. She found herself a couple of feet out into the space. She turned around and tried to go back again, but Gary stretched his hand out to stop her.

“Huh-uh,” he said. “Denise and I went. You’ve got to go too.”

Libby gulped hard and turned around and faced the empty space with its two bent things. She had the creepy feeling that they could be looking back at her.

She remembered her daddy’s words again …

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Daddy wouldn’t lie about a thing like that. So what was she scared of, anyway?

Besides, she was getting mad at Gary for being a bully. She was almost as mad as she was scared.

I’ll show him, she thought.

Her legs still shaking, she took step after step out into the big square space. As she walked toward the metal thing, Libby actually felt braver.

By the time she got close to the thing – closer than even Gary or Denise had gotten – she was feeling pretty proud of herself. Still, she couldn’t tell what it was.

With more courage than she even thought she had, she reached her hand out toward it. She pushed her fingers among the ivy leaves, hoping that her hand wouldn’t get snatched or eaten or maybe something worse. Her fingers came up against the hard, cold metal pipe.

What is it? she wondered.

Now she felt a slight vibration in the pipe. And she heard something. It seemed to be coming from the pipe.

She leaned really close to the pipe. The sound was faint, but she knew that it wasn’t her imagination. The sound was real, and it was just like a woman weeping and moaning.

Libby jerked her hand away from the pipe. She was too frightened to move or speak or scream or do anything. She couldn’t even breathe. It felt like that time when she’d fallen out of a tree on her back and the wind got knocked out of her lungs.

She knew that she had to get away. But she stayed frozen. It was like she had to tell her body how to move.

Turn and run, she thought.

But for a few terrifying seconds she just couldn’t do it.

Then her legs seemed to start running all on their own, and she found herself dashing back toward the edge of the clearing. She was terrified that something really bad would reach out and grab her and yank her back.

When she arrived at the edge of the woods, she bent over, gasping for breath. Now she realized that she hadn’t even been breathing all this time.

“What’s the matter?” Denise asked.

“A ghost!” Libby gasped out. “I heard a ghost!”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She tore away and ran as fast as she could back the way they’d come. She heard her brother and cousin running behind her.

“Hey, Libby stop!” her brother called out. “Wait up!”

But there was no way she was going to stop running until she was safe at home.