Deadly Dance (33 page)

“But wouldn’t that mean he’s evolving?” Harrison asked.

“Absolutely. And considering he’s been off the radar
for such a long time, not all that unusual. Additionally, the fact that he chose Bree’s necklace to prove his authenticity indicates to me that this has become personal. Which means it’s possible that his overall fantasy is now linked to you in some fashion.”

“So it follows that his next victim could be someone that Harrison knows. Someone that fits the victimology,” Avery said, his tone neutral, but his eyes cutting to Hannah, who was still typing on the computer, seemingly oblivious to this newest turn of conversation.

“So we just have to find this bastard and stop him before he can hurt anyone else,” Simon concluded, his face tight with concern.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Drake asked. “We don’t even know what this guy looks like.”

“Well, if you’re all finished predicting my imminent demise, I think I might be able to answer that,” Hannah said, looking up from her computer with quiet resolution.

“We weren’t…” Simon began and then trailed off. “It’s just that…”

“I understand,” Hannah said, her gaze moving to Harrison. “But predicting something doesn’t mean it’s actually going to happen. Especially not if we find him first.”

“So what have you found?” Avery asked.

“A possible ID,” Hannah said, typing again. “A man named Jeremy Draper. Corporal Draper, actually. U.S. Army.” She hit a key, and a picture appeared on the screen above the table.

“And what makes you think this is our guy?” Drake narrowed his eyes, studying the photograph.

“The details fit,” she said, turning her attention to Harrison. “Back at the castle you were talking about
stressors. That something had to set this guy off. And it occurred to me that maybe there was an initial reaction—before he had the chance to come here and find Walker.” She paused for a moment, hitting a key to change the photograph.

The picture was of a young woman. She’d clearly been stabbed to death.

“This is Eileen Draper. Jeremy’s wife. She was murdered forty-eight hours ago. In Belton, Texas. Just about the same time the news about Jasmine’s abduction and death went national.”

“I see the potential for connection,” Avery said. “She fits the victimology with her age and hair color, but you really don’t have anything conclusive.”

“Agreed. If this was as far as it went,” Hannah said. “But it’s not. First off, Belton is within the unsub’s killing zone.”

Harrison suppressed a smile at her use of the FBI terminology.

“And the stab wounds found on Eileen Draper,” Hannah continued, “are similar in location, depth, and even pattern to those inflicted by the cyber killer. And like his other victims, her throat was cut.”

“Could be another copycat,” Simon suggested.

“Definitely a possibility, except that whoever killed her took her ring. And that part of the MO was never released publicly.”

“So you think that in response to hearing the news about the killings here, he lost control and murdered his wife in Texas,” Tracy repeated, her eyes on the photograph. “I assume he’s missing?”

“He is,” Hannah affirmed. “And for now, at least, he’s
definitely the target of the investigation. The local police are looking for him.”

“But that still doesn’t mean he’s the cyber killer,” Tracy said. “There’s no posing after the fact. And the way he’s positioned the hands over her chest actually suggests remorse. That isn’t something we’d expect to find in a psychopath.”

“But there are exceptions to every rule. Right? Even psychopaths can be wired differently. Like you always say, profiling isn’t an exact science.”

“True, but what you’ve got here still isn’t enough to be positive that Draper’s the cyber killer.”

“Agreed.” Hannah nodded. “But if someone like the cyber killer did find love, or at least what he equated with the emotion, then that could explain why he stopped attacking other women.”

“It’s definitely possible,” Tracy admitted. “But like I said it isn’t conclusive.”

“Right, but there’s more,” Hannah said. “When I talked with the local authorities and explained our situation, they agreed to send me their files, and additionally, they convinced the army to release theirs.”

“What did you find?” Harrison asked, his gut telling him she was on to something.

“A time line,” Hannah said. “Draper’s unit was stationed in Fort Hood at the time of the original murders. That’s about forty-five miles from Austin and dead center in the middle of the kill zone.”

“But what about Eileen?”

“She wasn’t in the picture then. Draper was single.”

“So what else do we know about him?” Drake asked.

“According to army records, he was born in George-
town, a small town near Austin. He comes from a broken home. Dad was a no-show from the get-go. And Mom didn’t last much longer. I checked local records and apparently little Jeremy had some issues. And when he killed the family dog, Mom dumped him into the system and moved on.”

“So we’ve got one part of McDonald’s triad,” Tracy said, frowning as she tried to process Hannah’s information.

“Bedwetting, fire-starting, and torturing small animals,” Simon offered.

“Exactly.”

“Anyway,” Hannah continued, “Draper lived in various foster homes until he graduated high school and landed in the army.”

“And by then he was probably carrying around a whole lot of anger,” Harrison suggested, gut still churning. “Most of it, no doubt, directed at his mother.”

“I don’t suppose you have a picture of her,” Tracy asked.

“As a matter of fact,” Hannah said, bringing up a new photograph, her expression grim, “I do.”

The woman, dressed in a business suit, was smiling, long brown hair falling over her shoulder.

“She was a realtor,” Hannah added. “Young, middle-class, brunette, and single.”

“A perfect match for his victimology,” Drake said to no one in particular. “But why would he have waited to act out? I mean, his mother left a long time before he was stationed at Fort Hood—so what was the stressor?”

“Well, I’m no expert. But according to the army’s records, Draper was written up for attacking a woman in Dallas.”

“His mother,” Tracy said.

“Yes. Apparently, he’d run her to ground and was trying to reestablish contact.”

“Only she rejected him.” Tracy shook her head. “It’s textbook. And I’m guessing there was a knife involved.”

“Got it in one,” Hannah said. “But the wounds were only superficial, and she refused to press charges. The army disciplined him, though.”

“Which would have only made him more angry. He would have felt doubly wronged.” Tracy leaned forward, her eyes on Hannah. “You said there was a time line.”

“Right,” Hannah said, consulting her monitor. “According to army records, Draper’s attack on his mother happened about six months before the first of the cyber killer’s attacks. But there was nothing at the time to link them. Anyway, Draper was stationed at Fort Hood the entire time the cyber killer was active. Then—and this is the important part—his unit was shipped out to Iraq three months after the last murder.”

“Giving us a reason why he stopped.” Harrison blew out a breath, everything falling together. “He was out of the country.”

“And most likely releasing his rage in another way entirely,” Tracy agreed.

“So how long was he gone?” Avery asked.

“Almost seven years—off and on. He did four tours of duty before being discharged at the end of last year.” Hannah scrolled through the document on her computer screen. “He married Eileen about three years ago. Which I’m guessing worked mainly because he didn’t see her very often.”

“But her death was probably inevitable,” Tracy said, “considering how much she looked like Draper’s mother.”

“The local police answered a couple of domestic violence calls, but Eileen never pressed charges. And there was never enough to merit an arrest.”

“But the urges were building again,” Tracy said, “and with his discharge he’d lost the only way he had to legitimately release his rage.”

“And then when news about the fake cyber killer hit the airwaves,” Simon continued, “he broke.”

“It could conceivably have been the stressor that pushed him over the edge,” Tracy agreed. “And he killed his wife. A woman who most likely represented his memory of a mother who loved him.”

“And so he lost her all over again.” Drake shook his head. “This guy is one sick dude.”

“No shit,” Harrison said. “And when faced with this kind of loss, he looked for someone to blame.”

“The man impersonating him,” Avery agreed.

“And the man who was part of the original investigation,” Harrison sighed. “Which brings us full circle.”

“Except that now we know who he is,” Hannah said, switching the photograph back to the picture of Draper. “Which means we have a better shot at finding him. We can send this picture to the press and the police. Get everyone out there looking for him.”

“Agreed,” Avery said. “We’ll just have to be careful how we release the information. We can use the FBI front to make sure no one knows we’re the ones who put this all together. Hannah, I’m assuming you didn’t identify yourself as CIA when you made the call to the locals in Texas?”

“Of course not,” she assured him. “They think I’m an analyst with the FBI. And if anyone calls to verify,
thanks to Langley pulling some strings, Quantico will back me up.”

“Good.” Avery nodded. “Then we’ll continue to use the FBI to disseminate information about the killer. Bottom line here, we need to do whatever it takes to find this guy before he hurts someone new.” This time everyone’s eyes moved to Hannah.

“Look, guys,” she said, her exasperation showing, “there’s no reason to believe that Draper is going to come after me. I’ll admit I fit the victimology, but so do a lot of other women in this town. Besides, for all we know, this was a one-off, and he’s gone back to Texas.”

“I don’t think he’s gone anywhere,” Harrison countered. “He left me Bree’s necklace for a reason, and he’s not about to walk away now. I can feel it in my gut. This isn’t over—not by a long shot.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to hide in a closet until it’s finished?”

“If I had my choice.” Harrison nodded. “But I know you won’t agree to that. So instead you’re just going to have to deal with me watching your every move.”

“I can live with that,” Hannah agreed, her tone flip, but her eyes sending a different message.

“
Live
being the operative word,” Harrison said, sucking in a breath, realizing that push come to shove, he’d die for her—hell, more realistically, he’d kill for her.

H
arrison stood by the window looking out at the night sky, and Hannah leaned against the kitchen doorway watching him. The dining room was lit with the eerie glow of the LED lights from the computer array, the narrow swath of light from the kitchen cutting across the room like a pathway to nowhere.

He hadn’t said more than a few words all evening. And he’d hardly eaten anything. She knew he was angry and hurting, but she also knew that nothing she could say could possibly help. Some pain simply went too deep. Harrison opened his palm, looking down at his sister’s necklace, the gold links reflecting the light as they draped across his fingers.

Hannah’s heart constricted as she watched. She’d felt anger before. Even hatred. But nothing like what she was feeling now. Total and complete impotence. There was nothing to be done. They had identified the cyber killer, but they still couldn’t find him. Everyone within
a two-hundred-mile radius had been alerted to his presence. But there’d been nothing. No sign of him at all.

It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe searching for answers in the middle of a minefield. The best they could do was to shore up their defenses and wait. So Avery had sent everyone home. And the two of them had come here, ostensibly to dig into Draper’s past. But the truth was there was nothing more to learn.

The man was a born killer, and nothing could ever truly assuage the fury that burned inside him. He was like a bomb waiting to be triggered. And Walker—with the help of the Consortium—had set the charge. And now there would be hell to pay.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, pushing away from the door frame and walking over to the window to stand beside him.

He shook his head, his eyes still on the stars outside. “It all looks so normal,” he said, his voice so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him. “It looked a lot like this the night my sister died. I remember standing at a window a hell of a lot like this one, watching, waiting—unable to do anything else. God, I feel so fucking helpless.”

“That’s what he’s counting on,” she said. “He wants us to fall apart. He’s just trying to get in your head.”

“Well, it’s working.” Harrison blew out a breath and then carefully laid the necklace on the table. “I feel like he’s taunting me. Making me relive it all over again.”

“So what can I do?” she asked, reaching out to take his hand.