Blood stream, p.2
Blood Stream, page 2
Back home, Chris ate a late supper then took to the computer. Looking for a dump spot for the next victim was crucial. There was only a week left and three more people who needed to die. It would be an ambitious task to complete, but if anyone could do it, Chris could. Payback and hatred were the great equalizers, someone had once said, and there was plenty of each to go around.
Chapter 3
Monday, August 29
A smile crossed my face while on my way to work. My mind took me back to the preseason football party we’d hosted a week ago and all the parties we would enjoy for the entire football season. That party was the first one Amber, Kate, and I had hosted, but it wouldn’t be the last. We were on a once-a-month rotation. The preseason games were insignificant to us, but hanging out with our dearest friends took precedence over the games we didn’t particularly care about. Everyone in our group, let alone the state, was a diehard Packer fan, and that would never change. In a few weeks, the Packers would play two of our biggest rivals—the Vikings and the Bears. I would have to find out who was going to host those parties, but no matter who did, the parties would be a blast. Next weekend, Jack was hosting a Labor Day barbecue, so I hoped there would be no requests that took us out of town, as my weekend social calendar was filling up fast.
I had no idea what was in store for us that day but would find out soon enough. It was a new week, and as far as I knew, we would all remain in the area since I hadn’t heard of any serial crimes in our region—or any neighboring region—that would require our help.
Over the last week, the only thing I’d seen on the news was the hurricane updates along the southeast coast. There had been great damage both statewide and on the local level, a lot of flooding, and lives lost. I wondered whether I would ever be able to live in the South. Hurricanes scared the heck out of me, and as much as I loved the southern charm and genteel culture, I wasn’t fond of stifling humidity all summer long either. Every state had its pros and cons. Living in Wisconsin meant winter started early and ended late, along with daily gray skies during those months, something else I wasn’t fond of. I wondered where the perfect place to live would actually be.
Looking a half mile ahead out of my windshield, I saw nothing but brake lights. The daily bottleneck was coming up. With all the never-ending freeway construction, I marveled that none of those engineers had yet figured out a way to eliminate that problem.
I glanced at the clock then mentally calculated how much time it would take to get to St. Francis once I made it through the logjam.
I wouldn’t call the office unless I was sure to be late. Someday—I’d been saying for several years—I would buy one of those converted warehouse condos in Milwaukee’s Third Ward like Taft had, but the prices had increased dramatically over the last few years. Also, crime in Brew City was off the charts, nearly as high as in Chicago. I had to admit my procrastination was likely because I loved my home, my city, and my roommates.
With my fingers crossed, I was able to get through the traffic jam and arrive at our headquarters with six minutes to spare. I stood in front of the retina scanner, waited as it scanned, then passed through the door. I entered my security code on the next door’s keypad then headed for the elevator. Our third-floor offices were only two minutes away.
When I walked into our shared office, Renz grinned. “The woman who likes living on the edge.” He glanced at his wrist. “With thirty seconds to spare.”
I swatted the air. “Shush. I made it before our shift officially begins, so that’s a win for me.”
“Sure, if you say so. No time to power down and sip a relaxing cup of your favorite beverage after that long drive before we dig into another workday.”
“Whatever.” I chuckled. “I’m used to living on the edge. Nothing hair-raising is on the books for the week anyway.”
Renz pushed back his chair and stood. After a stretch that nearly popped the buttons on his shirt, he headed for the door.
“Quit your diet?” I teased.
He frowned and looked at his stomach. “Why? Am I gaining weight?”
I grinned. “Only you would know. It’s just an observation.” I followed him out the door. “Maybe you should start taking the stairs every day instead of the elevator.”
We entered the conference room and took our normal seats. I did a quick head count. Other than Taft, it looked like all our agents were in attendance. While we waited for our boss to arrive, everyone made small talk and shared news of their weekend.
The clacking of Supervisory Special Agent Maureen Taft’s shoes was unmistakable as always. She wore low-heeled dress shoes every day, and they had a distinct sound. Our boss was coming down the hallway.
“Good morning, Agents.”
We responded in unison then remained quiet while Taft organized her notes.
She looked up, smiled, and began. “Mike and Carl, you’ll be leaving this morning for Wichita, Kansas. Our help is needed there. In recent days, there’ve been four child abductions. The children aren’t related, apparently don’t know each other, or live in the same neighborhoods, and their ages range from five to twelve. The city police as well as the Sedgwick County Sheriff’s Office have been working the disappearances nonstop for days. They’ve just called in the local FBI, and they’ve requested our help.” She slid folders across the table to both agents. “Brief yourselves during the flight. A driver will pick you up in Wichita, then you’ll meet with the group who have set up a war room at the police department on Main Street. Any questions?”
Both agents said they were good, picked up the folders, then left the meeting.
Maureen continued. “We’re having local problems, as you all know. Crime in Milwaukee is out of control. The rest of you are going to pitch in to help the Milwaukee police in combating the unprovoked attacks on everyday people walking the streets of downtown Milwaukee. Two people died last week after being bludgeoned by total strangers as they made their daily walk from parking garages to their offices. Smash and grab is one thing, but to stick around and beat victims to within an inch of their lives, and two of them not surviving, is extremely disturbing. We need to find out if those perps are unrelated individuals or if they’re working as a group and prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law. If the city doesn’t resolve this situation soon, all of you might be putting in overtime.”
I knew that meant working weekends, but I remained stoic and didn’t give away my disappointment.
Taft glanced at the clock. “Head out now and meet up with Captain Fields at the State Street police station.”
With six of us, we needed to take two cruisers. Renz, behind the wheel of ours, pointed the nose north, and Kyle followed us. The drive would take less than fifteen minutes since the morning rush hour had ended.
Just after nine o’clock, we reached the police station. Renz pulled into the parking garage attached to the multistory building.
Inside the station, after showing our credentials to the officer behind the plexiglass wall, we waited for the captain. It took only a few minutes for him to come out, greet us, and ask us to join him. His team of nine detectives and thirty day shift officers were brainstorming, he said, but so far, nothing had stopped the senseless attacks and murders in the city.
The six of us joined the group and introduced ourselves, giving a brief history of our backgrounds. After that, the captain updated us on what had and hadn’t been addressed so far.
“We have three suspects on video at two of the attacks but none at the others. They could be the same people in both attacks, but the footage is grainy, and they were all wearing hoodies. Their size and mannerisms seemed the same in both cases, though.”
“But no facial shots at all?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“Is there enough TV news coverage?” Renz asked.
The captain sighed. “It seems so, but nothing has led to any arrests. Actually, none of the tip calls have proved credible.”
“And are there more cops on the street since these attacks began?” I asked.
“Our district is the entire downtown area, so every available officer, day and night, is walking and patrolling every street. The problem is we can’t be everywhere, especially when some of the attacks happen in parking garages.”
I couldn’t even recall the number of times I’d walked through parking garages, and they always gave me the creeps, especially when I was alone at night.
Kyle took his turn. “Is there a pattern? Certain times of day, days of the week, or a particular street or area of downtown?”
The captain lowered the roller map of the downtown area where the attacks had taken place.
“Honestly, and as bad as it sounds, there haven’t been enough attacks to get an average. A dozen attacks don’t seem out of the ordinary in today’s world, but when two of those innocent individuals ended up dead in a week’s time, well, that’s too many in my opinion.”
“Understood,” Kyle said.
“Why don’t we go through the days and times the attacks happened, and then your detectives can tell us if there were similarities in the murder methods, how the victims were found, evidence gathered, and then what your department has done so far,” Tommy said.
Fay, with a pen and paper in hand, jotted down everything as it was told to us.
A knock on the door disrupted our joint brainstorming session, and Captain Fields called out for the officer to come in.
“Sorry, folks. This shouldn’t take but a minute. What’s up, Officer Kent? I hope to God it isn’t another attack.”
“No, sir. I’m actually supposed to ask Agent DeLeon to call his supervisor immediately.”
With a puzzled look on his face, Renz excused himself to go make the call to Taft out in the hallway. Out of courtesy to the group, we had all powered down our phones during the meeting.
Renz returned a minute later and said that he and I had to leave. My eyebrows shot up. It was clear that a case somewhere else needed our attention, and there were still four very capable FBI agents who would work with the police to solve the attacks in Milwaukee.
After handshakes and apologies, Renz and I left the police station. Once outside, I asked why Taft had called us away.
“Not sure of the details, Jade, but it looks like we’re heading out today.”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere south. That’s all I know so far. Taft will fill us in when we get back to the office.”
Working for the Serial Crimes Unit of the FBI was my job and my passion. I had known it would take me out of town a lot, but I was still disappointed that I might miss the weekend events back home, and I often did. Of course, I wouldn’t share those feelings with Renz. It was the price of being in the FBI, and I was proud to be a senior special agent on our team.
We were back at our St. Francis headquarters at ten fifteen, and as we exited the cruiser, I gave Maureen a call. She said to come directly to her office for our briefing.
“So no information except south?”
Renz shrugged as he waited his turn to use the retinal scanner.
“I wonder if it has anything to do with the recent hurricane.”
“Doubt it,” he said. “That responsibility is on the state and FEMA.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
We took the elevator then two hallways before we reached Taft’s office. Renz knocked, and she invited us in.
“Make yourselves comfortable while I go over the assignment with you.” Maureen pointed at the guest chairs, and we sat down. “So, I don’t know if either of you saw that news segment last weekend about the horrible flooding caused by Hurricane Greta along the Roanoke River.”
I nodded as Taft spoke.
“There were casualties in several states throughout that region. The Roanoke runs between Virginia and North Carolina and then out to Albemarle Sound with the Atlantic Ocean just beyond that. That river is four hundred miles long with many creeks, streams, and lakes that branch off it.”
I had no idea where she was going with the story, but we were definitely getting a geography lesson. Then I remembered what I’d seen on TV on Sunday morning.
Maureen continued. “There was a segment on the news about a family finding a dead woman who appeared in their yard after the floodwaters receded. Nobody has come forward to identify her”—she slid photos across the desk—“and this is probably why.”
I grimaced when I stared at the image of the badly damaged corpse. The photos showed a waterlogged body blackened by bruises, I assumed from being in the flooded river and bouncing off every tree, log, and rock she had floated by. Deep cuts and scratches covered every square inch of visible skin, especially her face.
Renz spoke up. “So we have an unidentified dead woman who wasn’t reported missing from who knows where, who likely drowned in the floodwaters. Where do we come into play, and why?”
Taft looked concerned. “Well, it turns out that after the autopsy was completed, the coroner said that the woman’s teeth were pulverized, something that shouldn’t have happened by floating through water, and her cuts were smooth and consistently the same depth and length. If she were cut up by tree limbs and debris, then the injuries would be ragged and inconsistent. Finally, she didn’t have water in her lungs. Then, the most concerning and shocking thing in the autopsy report was that she likely died several days before the hurricane even made landfall.”
I was stunned, and that meant we had a killer on our hands who’d used the hurricane to their advantage. Still, it wouldn’t warrant the FBI getting involved.
“With all due respect, Boss, why would the locals call the FBI on an isolated case with a victim whose identity and home location are unknowns?”
With her index finger, Taft tapped the photograph. “Because there’s another body in Virginia that looks exactly like this one.”
I turned to Renz and silently mouthed the word shit.
Chapter 4
By noon, we were comfortably seated on a commercial flight bound for Durham, North Carolina. I took the window seat simply because I loved that escape, even if it was only for a few hours.
After taking off and hitting our cruising altitude, as we passed over the landscape beneath us, I wondered where all those nearly invisible roads led, who lived in the area, and what their lives were like. I saw large and small cities and wondered what towns they were and if they were good places to live. I’d always had a sense of wanderlust, but because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, my only way to see other cities and states was usually through my job.
“Someday.”
Renz tapped the back of my hand. “You thinking out loud?”
“What? Oh, I guess I was. Just wondering.”
“About?”
“About our huge country and the enormous number of people who live in it. What are they doing? Are they happy? Do they live in a wonderful community with dozens of friends?”
He chuckled. “Sounds like fantasyland. Nobody lives a perfect life, Jade.”
I nodded as I stared at the beautiful cloud formations and the sun’s rays piercing them.
“So why did you say someday?”
“I was just thinking about a vacation. I’m overdue.” I gave him a quick smile. “But we all are.”
“That’s for sure, but for now, we better go over our notes so we can hit the ground running when we get there.”
“Right, but with two bodies in two different states, how are we going to work that angle?”
Renz huffed. “Hell if I know. The first body found was the hurricane victim, and that’s in North Carolina. We’re landing in Durham, and Taft said that was about an hour from the location the victim was found at. We’ll have to work them like individual cases, and then when we have the information we need, we’ll try to connect them and see if something makes sense.”
“Yep, that sounds like the only way it’ll work.”
After going through our notes, contact names, and a list of places to stay, Renz and I had lunch then leaned back for a half hour of shut-eye. After cases in the past had kept us up all night, catching a nap now and then was a bonus that we wouldn’t pass up. We had to stay fresh and be present while doing our jobs.
I set the alarm on my phone, gave the landscape one more look, then closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, my phone was buzzing in my pocket, and I couldn’t believe a half hour had passed. Quietly and with my bag in hand, I slipped out past Renz, who was still sleeping, and went to the restroom to freshen up. I finger combed my hair and grinned when I remembered the warning my mom had always given me. “Jade, never use a brush on your curls, or you’ll end up looking like an orangutan.” Mom had always had a way with words, but they sunk in. Each day, I used either my fingers or a pick. I dabbed powder on my face to cover the sheen, brushed my teeth, then applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. I was ready to get our rental car and drive to Henderson, the town nearest to where the body was found that had a branch of law enforcement. There, we would meet with the people who’d requested our assistance.
Back in my seat before we landed, I nudged Renz. “Hey, we’ll be on the ground soon, and I thought you’d want to freshen up.”
After yawning, Renz rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll be right back.”
I looked out the window again. The city was coming into view, its rolling hills in the distance. I’d never been to Durham, but from the online images I saw, it looked like Brightleaf Square was a great restaurant and shopping area. It was a shame that we wouldn’t have time to check it out. At times when visiting wonderful places I wished I had a man in my life, but for now, having good friends kept me happy.
