Glimpse of Death: A Riveting Serial Killer Thriller Page 10

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said in her normal voice. “I kept tossing and turning, and didn’t want to wake you.”

  He didn’t reply, leaving her time to wonder when she’d learned to lie that well, unfaltering and looking him straight in the eye.

  He grabbed his travel mug, filled to the brim with fresh coffee, and left, muttering something indiscernible right before closing the door behind him.

  She breathed.

  It was still early, plenty of time before she had to head to the hospital. She delayed leaving the couch, and thought about the next night, and the one after that. She’d lied her way out for sleeping on the couch that one time, but how about the following nights? Maybe she could change shifts, grab herself the graveyard for a few nights, until things… until what? What was she hoping for?

  Resigned with not finding an easy answer, she went upstairs into the master bathroom, to take a quick shower before leaving for work. She undressed in front of the well-lit mirror, and gasped. Black-and-blue bruises marked her hips on both sides, where he’d grabbed her flesh the night before, to hold her in place. Her inner thighs were bruised and painful, where he’d forced her legs apart with his knee. Ashamed and heartbroken, she closed her eyes, unable to stand looking at the image reflected in that mirror.

  There was nothing left to hope for. It was over. Her marriage was over.

  She went through the motions without realizing, her mind occupied with various scenarios of how this divorce could go wrong. How would he react, when she’d tell him she wanted a divorce? He’d obviously become a violent man, and she had no idea when that crept up on them. What could she expect?

  She’d heard about cases when men struggle for custody just to get even at their wives for leaving them, and she was terrified of losing Charlie. Derek made more money than she did, and was adept at winning everything he set his mind to win. He was merciless, in more ways than one. He was a wild card, and a dangerous one.

  Suddenly, with the clarity only a cold shower brings to one’s troubled mind, she decided to not say a word about anything, and pretend everything was all right. She’d even sleep in that bed with him, for as long as she needed to, but she wouldn’t tip her hand before she’d be ready to win that custody battle, hands down and without dispute.

  She grabbed her purse and car keys, and stepped out to the driveway, where she froze with embarrassment. Her next-door neighbor was picking up her garbage, scattered on the driveway and both their lawns.

  “Good morning,” he greeted her cheerfully, waving an empty pizza box at her. “The storm tipped these over, and the trucks haven’t been here yet.”

  She rushed to the car and dropped her purse on the driver’s seat. “Let me help you,” she offered, grabbing the pizza box from his hands. “Better even, why don’t you let me do it?” she asked, averting her eyes.

  “Nah, no need. You’re on your way to work, and I have nothing better to do,” he said.

  He had a gentle, soothing voice, and he smiled at her with kindness. He was good looking in a reserved, well-mannered way.

  “Um, thank you so much, Brian, but I should do this. It’s my trash, after all.”

  He laughed. “Well, unless you’re going to charge me with larceny, I plan on carrying on what I’ve already started. And it’s Ryan, by the way. Ryan Stafford.”

  She felt blood rush to her cheeks. “So sorry, I—” Stumped, she extended her hand.

  “It’s all right,” he said, and shook her hand with warmth. “You’re Melissa, right?”

  “Yes, Melissa Henderson, but friends call me Mel.”

  “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Melissa. I’m sure I can make the effort to pronounce all three syllables of your wonderful name, Melissa. Now that we’ve shook our soiled hands,” he chuckled, “please accept my offer of assistance.”

  She frowned, a little confused, feeling heat flush her face.

  “For what? For this?”

  “For whatever you need,” he replied, suddenly serious, and with a touch of sadness in his eyes. “If ever there’s anything, please don’t hesitate. I’m right next door.”

  She struggled to maintain her smile, and averted her eyes. She felt exposed, as if Ryan knew everything that was going on in her life. He couldn’t have known; there was no way.

  Her drive to work seemed shorter than usual that morning. Her mind was in turmoil over the impending conflict with Derek and the issue of divorce, her grim thoughts soon stifling all memory of the encounter with the kind and helpful neighbor.

  She struggled to remember her last happy day with Derek, to try to pinpoint when things had started to fall apart in their marriage. When did that happen? About a year and a half before, Derek’s father had died of cancer after a long agony, and Derek was never the same. He and his father had been close. At first, she’d given him time and space to mourn his loss, and was there for him, but he never reached out to her. He isolated himself more and more, and became taciturn and morose. Then he found increasing refuge in his work, or so she was supposed to believe, but he’d always been career driven, even before his father’s passing.

  Before her father-in-law’s death, she remembered a weekend in Tampa when they’d been happy and had lots of fun. Charlie was about four years old back then, and they both enjoyed playing with him, telling him stories, making him laugh, then watching him fall asleep so they could rush and make love quietly under the covers, so he wouldn’t wake up. That distant memory was almost two years old. Since then, not a single memorable moment of happiness; not one.

  Two years? Where did they go?

  23

  Morning Rounds

  Tess sat upright in her bed and watched the nurse move around, going about her business. She followed a simple routine. In the morning, she checked Tess’s vitals and recorded the readings on her chart. She took her temperature, and checked her pulse manually, despite having it displayed on the monitor above her head. Then she measured her blood pressure using an analog device with a manual pump and stethoscope, rather than a digital readout. Finally, she read the night shift’s annotations and took note of any medication changes, then prepared for the morning rounds that started about 9:00AM.

  Tess felt better, and her head was clear that morning, most likely because she managed to skip her painkillers the night before, against medical advice. She needed her reality to be real, not distorted by some temporary high; she also needed her mind to be perceptive and fast.

  She’d watched Melissa work the same routine for a few days, but lately something was off. She watched her carefully, noticing minute changes. The angle of her neck was more pronounced; her head hung lower than usual. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes, and her eyelids seemed puffy and somewhat reddish. Melissa’s fingers were frozen when she touched her arm to take her blood pressure. She didn’t recall them being so frozen before.

  “Come,” Tess whispered, careful not to wake up Cat, “sit here for a minute.” She patted the bed, right next to her.

  Melissa smiled shyly. “I can’t sit on the bed, it’s against hospital policy.”

  “Then pull up a chair and talk to me,” Tess pleaded.

  Melissa complied, appearing a little worried. “What is it? What can I do for you?”

  “It’s the other way around,” Tess replied, “it’s about what I can do for you.”

  “I—I don’t understand what you mean,” the nurse replied, blushing.

  She was a bad liar too, on top of whatever else was going on with her.

  “You know what I do for a living, right?”

  Melissa nodded, and her pupils dilated some more.

  “Then believe me when I say I can see something’s off about you. I’m offering my help. What’s going on?”

  Melissa lowered her head. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Just… family stuff.”

  “Then there’s nothing I can do for you,” Tess admitted, “except for one thing. I’ll teach you how to hide it better, so others wo
n’t see what I see. It might help a little with your… family stuff.”

  Melissa looked her in the eye with a timid smile of gratitude.

  “It’s all in the neck alignment and the shoulders. Keep your neck upright, and your shoulders relaxed and lowered, and you’ll appear strong and in control, regardless of how puffy-red your eyes might be.”

  The hint of a smile on Melissa’s lips blossomed. “Thank you. Really.” She stood and rolled the chair out of the way, closer to the wall. “It’s almost time for rounds; I have to get you ready, and change your dressing.”

  A rap on the window announced SAC Pearson, Tess’s boss and FBI Special Agent in Charge. She waved him in and quickly tugged a rebel strand of blonde hair behind her ear, then pulled her covers a few inches higher, to cover her chest. That was going to be as professional as she could possibly look, under her current circumstances.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said in a normal voice.

  Cat woke up, blinked a couple of times, then stood and shook Pearson’s hand.

  “Good morning, Winnett,” Pearson said, and remained standing at the foot of her bed. “You’re feeling better, I see.”

  “Yes, I am,” she replied, and wondered how much trouble she really was in, to warrant a personal visit from her boss.

  “I received an interesting voicemail from you last night, requesting all sorts of things. Analyst time, dedicated lab time, credentials reinstated, your service weapon returned, and the list goes on, but you already know what you’ve asked me for.”

  “Yes, I do,” she acknowledged, her smile now vanished and replaced by a frown.

  “I wanted to ask you in person, Winnett, are you out of your mind? You’ve come out of surgery two days ago—”

  “Four days, sir.”

  Pearson’s chin thrust forward. “What did I tell you about not interrupting people?”

  She knew better than to respond. She had an uncanny gift for reacting the wrong way and saying the wrong things to the man who could damage her career the most, her boss. The more she tried to impress him, the more she aggravated him. He did have his numbers wrong though, and she was a stickler for accurate facts. In her line of work, factual accuracy was paramount.

  Cat headed toward the door, getting ready to leave. “I think I better be heading out. Same order for lunch, kiddo?”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied, with a flicker of excitement in her eyes, and almost chuckled when she saw Melissa roll her eyes.

  Cat left the room, and Melissa followed behind him, then closed the door, leaving her alone with a grim-looking SAC Pearson.

  Tess turned her attention to him, making eye contact but not saying a word. She wanted him to understand she was ready and willing to listen.

  “What is this request about?” he eventually asked.

  “They have a serial killing team,” she replied. “Palm Beach County is working it.”

  His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “I haven’t been made aware of a formal request to involve the bureau in this local investigation. Did they voice such a request to you?”

  “No, but they’re in here more often than the doctor, and it’s not just because they miss me all that much.”

  “I see,” he replied, pacing the room with a slow, measured stride. “You need to focus on your recovery, Agent Winnett. You’ve been injured badly, you nearly died. You can’t work until the doctor says you can. Period. If they need help, I’d be happy to assign them someone else.”

  “No, I can do this,” she blurted. “I’ve worked with these guys before; I’ve studied the case—”

  “What do you mean you’ve studied the case?”

  She reached out to her bedside table and grabbed a small stack of file folders. “I have the crime scene information—”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Winnett!” he snapped, gesturing with both his hands at the file folders. “You’re on medical leave, in a damn hospital no less! You can’t be working, and I can’t reinstate you. If for no other reason, then at least because legal will be on my case faster than I can say lawsuit.”

  “I’d never sue the bureau, that’s insane!” she reacted, raising her voice.

  “It’s not about you suing the bureau, Winnett. It’s about protocols, it’s about rules and following them, and some of those rules ensure we don’t open up the bureau for liability. You’re not the only one who could sue if… things go wrong.”

  She fell silent, unable to think about anything else to say that wouldn’t make things worse.

  “Rules and procedures, remember those?” Pearson continued, his tone still elevated. “Pesky little things you normally choose to ignore, but the rest of us must follow.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, lowering her head for a second, then looking him in the eye again. “It’s not like I can send that serial killer a doctor’s note, so he can stop killing until I’m back from leave, now can I?”

  “Winnett! Don’t patronize me. You’re not the only agent in this regional bureau. There are others, and good ones. Take some goddamned time off for a change, and stop arguing with me! No case work, no files at your bedside, no crime scene photos in your hospital room, understood?”

  She nodded a couple of times, and clenched her fists. Her jaw tensed, as she made desperate efforts to keep her mouth shut and not plunge deeper into the pitfall of Pearson’s increasing exasperation. The heart rate monitor above her head started beeping quietly, an alert that some of her vitals were elevated.

  “Great,” Pearson muttered, “just great. I can’t win with you, can I?” he grumbled.

  A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll take the fifth on that, sir.”

  “Ah, wipe that smirk off your face, if you know what’s good for you, Winnett.”

  Melissa scampered into the room and went straight to the monitors. “We need to lower your blood pressure, sweetie. Let me give you a shot of—”

  “Nope, no shots. It’ll come down on its own, I promise.”

  Melissa looked almost insulted, but caved under Tess’s burning glare. “I’ll give you ten minutes to get that monitor to shut up on its own, after which I’ll get Dr. DePaolo.”

  “It’s a deal,” she replied, then turned toward Pearson, in time to see he could barely contain a smile. His eyes were still intense though, and his gaze carried glints of frustration.

  “Glad to see you’re driving everyone crazy, Winnett, not just me.” He cleared his throat quietly. “I’ll give your request some thought, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s no way I can justify any of it.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “One more thing, what’s going on with my committee hearing?”

  “It’s been delayed until you can return to duty. Until then, they’re auditing all your recent work.”

  She couldn’t help but feel worried. Committee hearings were career killers, regardless of how the committee ruled; such events stayed in her personnel record for the duration of her employment with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, complete with the reason why the committee had been asked to look at her record, and its findings and recommendations. Having a kill rate above everyone’s average, high enough to trigger a performance review, was not going to help her career one bit. Probably not even her perfect case-solving score would mitigate that.

  “Stop fussing about it, Winnett, you’ll do fine,” Pearson said, correctly reading her facial expression. “All your shootings were cleared, there was no dispute. It’s just a formality.”

  She looked him in the eye, not even trying to hide her anguish. “It better be.”

  The door whooshed open and Detective Michowsky stepped in, carrying a large box of honey crullers.

  “Hey,” he said, “anyone up for donuts? How about you, Nurse Henderson?”

  “I wonder why you law enforcement types have such a hard time following a simple rule. It’s posted on every wall. No outside food on the post-op floor.”

  Michowsky shrugged, a little uncomfortable, but offered t
he open box to Pearson, who took a donut.

  “So, tell me,” Tess asked, “was it Sarah?”

  “Yeah, it’s confirmed. Same MO, same ring-swapping deal, same cause of death.”

  “We weren’t fast enough,” Tess said. “We need to be faster. Where was she found?”

  “On the upper level of the mall’s parking lot.”

  “Just… a mall? A random one? No correlation with anything?”

  “No, in the same mall where she saw the man with the rope, and the same mall parking lot where she was taken from. We have a pattern.”

  “We have two,” Tess replied. She adjusted the bed to sit up higher, and winced a little when the backrest moved.

  “You in pain?” Michowsky asked.

  “I’m off my pain meds. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me, and let’s worry about Katherine Nelson. Maybe it’s not too late for her.”

  “You said two patterns?”

  “One pattern is he takes them back where he took them from. The second is he takes them where he shows them the glimpse of death; one of the locations, anyway. Some victims had multiple sightings, right?”

  Michowsky frowned and checked his notes quickly. “Yeah, Lisa Trask first saw a glimpse in the office parking lot, then at her own home. But she vanished after she went to the hairdresser, not from either of those places.”

  Tess rested her chin on her fist and bit her upper lip, thoughtful. “I still think the location where they see the glimpse of death is relevant. It’s the key to this unsub’s motive. Even if Lisa vanished from a different location.” She bit her fingernail, then continued. “But… are we sure she did? What if she returned to her office parking lot after the hairdresser’s? It’s just a hunch, but I’d like to be certain.”

  “You’re definitely feeling better. You’re back to not trusting a single ounce of the work we’re doing.” Michowsky sighed, then continued. “I’ll have her employer pull their security footage.”

  “Thanks,” Tess replied. “I might be wrong, you know.”

  “We’re working victim background; we talked to Sarah’s family, some of her friends,” Michowsky continued. “Got nothing. Fradella’s working on extended backgrounds, poring over every bank statement and credit card charge for all known victims, looking for things they might have had in common.”