Aislinn McFarland stared at the envelope on her desk. Her mouth filled with cotton. Her gut turned to ice. She knew what the 12 x 9 inch package contained; knew it was a cry for help from a sick mind.
Regardless, at this point, the culprit could look somewhere else for compassion. That well had run dry.
Her hands shook as she reached for her mug. When would the deaths end? The taunts?
She choked on the gulp of bitter coffee. Why did the Upton Falls police station have brew that tasted like burnt tires? She redirected her attention to the manila envelope with the all too familiar computer printed label on the front. The interval between deliveries grew shorter before the next arrival, and they always coincided with a woman’s murder.
The bulge at one end told Linn it contained more photos. Her heart beat like the pounding of a race horse’s hooves, and she pressed a trembling hand to her chest. The bold letters of her name shouted at her. Mocking her for being helpless to stop him.
Some detective she proved to be.
She pulled open the bottom desk drawer and withdrew a pair of latex gloves. The snap of the rubber as she pulled them over her hands echoed in the small office. Her partner glanced up from his desk. Linn crooked the corner of her mouth.
A frown marred Steve’s handsome olive complexion. “Linn?”
Grabbing the letter opener next to her desk blotter, she shook her head. Her hand continued to shake like someone with palsy as she ripped the thin metal blade under the envelope’s lip. Turning the envelope upside down, she dumped out the contents.
Photographs landed face down. She grasped a pencil from the chipped mug beside her and gently tipped the pictures over with the sharpened tip.
The first one was similar to the others she’d received in the past. A woman in a red evening gown posed elaborately on a bed of thick moss, wide eyes staring into the camera. Moonlight filtered through tree branches, streaking her with silver light.
Linn’s gaze cut to the next picture. Her own face stared back at her, super-imposed onto the body of the woman from the first photo. Written in black marker across the front were the words, “I’m watching you. Why don’t you see me?”
“Getting too close, aren’t we, buddy?” Her voice shook as if to laugh at the bravado of her words, and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, and glanced out the window. Could he see her now? Why her? Why choose to stalk a small-town, overworked detective?
“Did you say something, Linn?”
“Got some more, Steve. Take a look.” She rolled her chair back, allowing him room to step beside her.
Steve withdrew a pair of tweezers from his pocket and lifted one of the photos. “This one’s of you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her chair to face him. His brow wrinkled. “Are you okay?”
She looked up into her partner’s gold-green eyes and forced herself to relax. “I’m fine. Shook up, but I’ll get over it.” She always did.
“Uh-huh. Tough as nails, that’s you.” Steve drummed the fingers of his right hand against his lips as he studied the photograph. “There has to be a clue; something we’re missing.”
Linn pulled a plastic Ziploc bag from her drawer and held it out to him. “He’s getting personal.”
He dropped the photo in the bag and reached for the other one. “Pretty lady. Someone we’re looking for?”
“She fits the description of a woman reported missing a month ago.”
“They’ve all fit the description. You fit the description.”
“As our friend here has so kindly pointed out. Except my hair is red, the vic is a blond.” Linn slid the locking tab across the baggy and tossed it on her desk. “I’ll have it checked for prints. Doubt they’ll find any. These photos will be like the others. Clean.”
“Your hair is barely red. Strawberry blond, I believe people call it.” Steve perched on the corner of her desk. “How many does this make now—three, four?”
“Four.”
He swung his leg, his shoe heel tapping against the metal panel. “The FBI completely took over the conference room last night. They sent another man in today. Looks like a country hick cowboy.”
Feds were everywhere, interfering in her job, taking over the station. She sighed. Now, she and Steve were crammed into an office barely big enough for one person. Desks so close together there was hardly room to walk, much less pace and brainstorm.
The phone rang. Linn flinched and reached for the receiver. Steve rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze before turning back to his desk.
“McFarland here.” Linn leaned back in her chair. Her eyes widened as a voice void of emotion rattled off an address. She slowly hung up the phone.
“They’ve found another body. Let’s go. I’ll drive.” She grabbed her navy jacket from a nearby chair and slid the pictures into the pocket before swinging the blazer to her shoulders.
“You always drive.” Steve slipped his arms into his suit jacket.
“Do you have any gas?” She speared him with a glance.
“A little. Enough to drive across town.”
Linn strode to the doorway then paused. “A quarter of a tank?”
He shrugged. “Think so. Maybe.”
“Thought so, and you know that isn’t enough.” She led the way out, their heels clattering on the tiled floor as they marched down the hall and to the parking garage.
“Almost.”
Linn pressed the button on her car fob, releasing the door locks on her candy-apple red mustang, then slid inside. “This woman is in a warehouse by the river. You know I’m uncomfortable with anything less than a quarter of a tank.” Less than that left a girl vulnerable to the evil in the world.
Steve set the stopwatch on his Timex, glancing at it often as they drove. “Wow.” He pointed to his watch for a final time as they parked in front of the warehouse. “A whole fifteen minutes. I’m positive my car wouldn’t have had enough gas. When are you going to tell me why you’re so hung up on never going below a quarter of a tank?”
“Don’t be sarcastic. Save that for the suits. Maybe I’ll never tell you.” Partner or not, Steve pried into her personal life too much for Linn’s comfort. Her past was better left behind her. She had no desire to revisit such a dark and desperate place.
Two police cars, lights flashing, idled in front of the square, gray-bricked building. Linn sighed and cut the ignition. “I hope they didn’t touch anything.” She popped the trunk and retrieved the square aluminum case. “Sometimes, first responders lack common sense.”
“McFarland. Chavez.” Chief Madden’s bald head shone in the Ozark summer sun like a brand-new eight ball. The seams of his dark suit strained against his bulging bulk. A cigarette dangled from full lips. Obviously, his diet wasn’t working.
Linn stifled a smile. “Mad Dog.”
“I’ve told you not to call me that.” Madden frowned down at her. “I never should have told you my college nickname.”
“You know you like it.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
The captain took her by the elbow. He tossed a glance at Steve as they walked. “The medical examiner thinks she’s been here since early this morning. Might be Sara Vern, but we haven’t made a positive ID. We’re waiting for her file.”
Linn paused in the cavernous doorway of the warehouse. The block walls kept the area cool, despite the summer humidity. A breeze blew through the door and out an open window, taking with it the faint stench of death.
A man stood next to the woman’s body.
Linn’s quick glance took in the faded jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and a black tee-shirt that fit smoothly across a toned back. The man squatted, his gloved hand cradling the woman’s. The dress she wore, a spot of bright color against the cement floor. Her hair fanned out around her head.
“Who is that?” Linn glared into Mad Dog’s face. “And why is he touching the body?”
“FBI.”
“Why is the FBI here ahead of us?” Linn planted fists on her hips. “Granted, the body count warrants the feds coming in, but common courtesy would be to let us know. This is our case.”
“You did know. The FBI have been holed up at the station for a day already. They’re working with us. The call went in to the feds from the little old lady who found the body. I called you as soon as I got here.”
“Fine. We’ve got more pictures,” Linn informed Madden. “One is from the last batch of missing persons.”
The man studying the body uncurled himself and turned. He looked even better from the front. Eyes the color of a stormy sea focused on Linn. “Pictures? May I see them?” He spoke with a soft, rich, southern drawl; the sound like distant thunder during a summer rain.
Linn yanked her gaze away, determined not to be sucked in.
“Detective McFarland, this is Special Agent Andrew Wayne. Drew for short. Or Wayne. He answers to both. He’s been assigned to assist us.” Madden’s lip twitched with the hint of a smile. “The silent partner over there is Detective Chavez.”
Madden had something up his sleeve, and she was bound not to like it. She had a job to do, and she wouldn’t let some pretty cowboy get in her way, no matter how well his jeans fit.
“We’ve received a photograph of each of the victims after their murder, some immediately after, others much later.” Linn set her case on the ground beside her feet. “This morning, two more photographs arrived.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “One minor deviation from his prior MO. One of the photographs is of me. And unless I’m mistaken, I’m very much alive.”
The agent’s gaze caressed her. “I’d have to agree.”
“What?” Madden’s voice boomed through the warehouse.
Linn cringed then turned to Madden, forcing herself to stand firm beneath his glare. “My face is superimposed onto the photograph of the woman in the other picture.”
“Did you bring them with you?” Special Agent Wayne rubbed his chin, his hand rasping on what looked like a day’s growth of whiskers.
Nodding, Linn withdrew the baggy from her pocket and handed it to Madden, trying to ignore the agent. The man definitely didn’t look like FBI. Instead, he belonged on the cover of an outdoor magazine. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a slow smile spread across the agent’s face. Embarrassed at being caught checking him out, Linn’s face heated.
Madden glanced at the photos then passed them to Wayne. The agent snatched them from his hand.
Linn tilted her head and watched his face as the agent perused the photographs. His features remained expressionless, except for a muscle twitching in his jaw. The man’s raven hair waved over his head, barely brushing against his shoulders. Chiseled lips pressed into a line as he handed the photos back to her. Definitely not like any fed she’d ever seen. This man did not fit the mold of an emotionless clone. Anger vibrated from him. His hands clenched. Linn took a step back.
Their gazes locked. His eyes were such a dark blue, they appeared black. Way too pretty for FBI. He said something she missed. “Excuse me?”
“He air-brushed your scar.”
Linn’s hand flew to her lip. Her other hand flipped the photos over. The scar from an accident years ago was gone.
“Why would he remove the scar?” Madden frowned.
“I’m guessing here, but maybe he doesn’t want his women imperfect. We know the man has some expectations of beauty. He takes his time arranging each body to bring out that woman’s individual beauty. Look.” He directed their attention to the photographs. “In this one, he spotlighted her hands. See how one is folded beneath her chin? The long fingers and sculpted nails?”
Imperfection! As if Linn needed reminding. She’d spent her life trying to push aside memories of that night. Sometimes, she succeeded. Other times she woke in a cold sweat, heart racing.
Drew took a manila folder from the hood of the nearest squad car. “In this other photograph, the victim’s thick hair is fanned out over the leaves.” He skimmed through the papers in the folder. “Here, it’s the woman’s skin. Pale, porcelain-like. This woman’s dress reveals much more skin than the other victims. The deep plunge emphasizes her full breasts, which are natural, not plastic. See the belly button ring? He’s dressed her so the skin and ring are emphasized.”
Give me a break! Linn rolled her eyes.
“Our perpetrator is taking the best parts of his victims. I think he’s trying to build his image of the perfect woman.”
- ASIN : B0BCDH1FYL
- Publisher : Independently published
- Publication date : August 30, 2022
- Language : English
- Print length : 313 pages
- ISBN-13 : 979-8849166209