Fragmented (12 page)

Pulling back her curtains, Cameron stared blankly out the window. Darkness
blanketed the city. She wondered what waited for her there. She didn’t want to go out, but she hadn’t a choice.

She changed quickly into a pair of sweats. She didn’t have time for anything else. She grabbed her coat and keys. Walking into the cold night, a sharp blast of air slapped her cheeks. She ignored it and hunched her shoulders beneath her coat.

She unlocked her tan Camry she had gotten back from her brother. She peered through the windows at the backseat and glanced at neighboring cars. She didn’t notice any police presence. Of all nights to have pulled her surveillance!

She breathed in deeply to calm her racing heart. She slid behind the steering wheel and ignited the engine.
She shivered—from the cold or from fear, she didn’t know which. She glanced around again. She put her car in gear and turned onto the street. Not more than ten minutes later, she pulled into a parking space outside Meghan’s Back Bay address.

Suddenly she had a
bad feeling. She couldn’t go in alone…but the message said they would die if she didn’t. Her heart pounded to the point she couldn’t breathe, on the verge of a  panic attack. She took in a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions…her fear.
Oh, God, what am I doing
?

She rested her head against the steering wheel. She wanted nothing more than to succumb to the urge to cry. She didn’t know what else to do. Then a thought flashed through her mind.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out his card. ADA Darren Kennedy. Would he take her call? It was well after midnight. She took her cell phone out and dialed. With each ring, her heart fluttered. Then disappointment—no answer. It went straight into his answering machine.

Hesitating a moment, she rambled,
“Darren, I know it’s late. It’s just…it’s just something strange happened. It’s probably nothing. I’m at Meghan’s, but she’s not home, but…” She hesitated. She wasn’t making any sense. She finished, simply stating, “She lives off Commonwealth Avenue, 232 Hereford Street.”

Pushing her phone deep into
her coat pocket, she gazed out the rearview mirror. No shadowy figures. Her fingers fumbled through her keys. Her call to Meghan’s number before leaving had been unanswered. Mila, her housekeeper, should have been home, but Cameron wasn’t certain.

She exited the car. In the still of the winter night, she walked up the walkway. Chills ran up and down her spine with each step. Extending
her hand to knock on the door,
it gave way and eased open.

The house lay in pitch darkness. An overwhelming urge to run overcame her…only the memory of the threat— the threat of harm to another if she didn’t follow the
instructions—made her continue. She fought back the urge to run. With her trembling legs, she inched into the darkness.

The street lights
were the only illumination in the rooms. It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, giving way to forms occupying the house.

She didn’t bother closing the front door. She called out.
“Mila! Ian!”

Answered only
with silence, she slowly moved through the foyer. All the doors to the surrounding rooms were shut. Her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. Her mind raced, trying to remember where their bedroom was situated. Off the kitchen?

She heard footsteps. Turning abruptly around, her eyes searched the area.
Who else would be here?
“Hello?”

A hard slam of a door echoed within the empty house. A laugh
—a sinister, harrowing laugh—followed. She screamed, a long, uncontrollable scream. She had made a horrible mistake. Instincts kicked in. She had to get out of there.

Terror seized her. She ran. She ran blindly, swiftly through the kitchen
, banging into the island in the darkness. Falling, she scrambled frantically back up to her feet.

Some primeval sense of impending doom seized her. She looked around the island block. A sliver
of light from the street light outside flickered briefly, creating a shadow in its midst, a shadow of a man walking slowly…calmly into the dark kitchen. She wasn’t alone. He was here inside and he knew where she was.

Pushing off her knees
, she raced for the door leading to the garage. The door handle rattled…locked. Another laugh emerged in the darkness. She could feel his breath as he closed in on his objective.

She ducked. He grabbed at her. Holding tight
ly to her coat, she squirmed out, hitting back. Momentarily free, she raced out of the kitchen. Her assailant didn’t hurry. He laughed again. Frantically, she bolted toward the sunroom, barreling over the counter and landing feet first on the other side, knocking all the contents off the counter.

A vase crashed to the floor as she ran by the table. She reacted quickly as she stared at the windows. From behind
, she could hear steady footsteps. She picked up the foot stool, intent upon crashing it through the window, with her following behind it.

Before she could swing it back for force, rough hands had hold of her. She tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth with a cloth. She could feel her legs weaken. Then everything went black.

Lights flashed. Yellow tape ran along the front of the mansion, around the entrance. Brophy drove up just as an ambulance drove off. He parked his Crown Victoria by Kennedy’s Lexus, although he chose to stay on the street. Kennedy’s car had jumped the curb. It looked as though half the police force had responded. Uniforms swarmed the front yard. Neighbors, curious, looked out their windows. The whole of the street seemed to be awake. He walked up slowly into the mansion.
Who in the hell’s house was this?

He walked through the entrance door as he put on his gloves. Far as he could tell
, Waters wasn’t here yet. He sighed heavily. He yelled at the closest uniform. “Hey, Marciano, status?”

Marciano walked over and pointed to the French doors in the foyer.
“Kennedy’s in the study with the girl. The guy almost had her. We found her unconscious in the sunroom or whatever the hell they call it. We found two live-ins unconscious in their bedroom. The EMTs thought they looked drugged. He must have just made his escape as we drove up.”

“
Forced entry?” Brophy asked. He stepped around the corner, glancing into the kitchen and adjoining room. Obviously a struggle had ensued.

Marciano followed him.
“He didn’t jam the door. No alarms were set off; they look as though they were disabled. The electricity’s been cut. We’re bringing in lights. Crime scene techs should be here momentarily and from what I understand, we should expect the FBI on the scene,” Marciano said. He stood with his feet wide apart, hands on his hips.

“
Who in the hell’s house is this?” Brophy asked. He walked back to the foyer toward the French doors.

“
Think the address is some Joel Warren, an investment banker, but I’m not the detective here, am I?” Marciano shrugged with a grin.

“
Nope, you’re not,” Brophy answered. He opened the far door and entered into a huge open room. Cameron lay on the leather couch, her long hair loose around her shoulders. Her face whitened. Kennedy sat next to her, holding an ammonia cap under her nose. She coughed and scooted up to an upright position.

“
What the hell happened here, Darren?”

Darren didn’t look back at Brophy. His attention stayed
focused clearly on Cameron.

“
She called me a little after midnight. Said she was here. Only thing I could figure was she was walking into some kind of trap,” Darren responded. “Am I right, Cameron?”

Brophy stood taken back for a moment with Darren’s tone. Darren was mad
—no, angry with the girl.

She nodded. Tears began to fall. She rubbed her forehead as if it
were pounding. Brophy wondered for a moment if she shouldn’t have gone to the hospital. Darren pulled her into his shoulder.

The next moment, he spoke in a softer tone.
“It’s okay, Cameron. You’re safe for now. We just need to know what happened.”

He looked back at Brophy.
“We found her unconscious on the floor. A rag, probably chloroform, knocked her out. He probably had to drop her when he heard the sirens. He didn’t have time to…”

Darren abruptly stopped. Brophy realized he didn’t want to say what he thought
—the pervert wanted to abduct her. Darren drew her back to see her face, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“
Cameron, why did you come here?”

She swallowed hard. Her eyes broke from his.

“Don’t do this now, Cameron. Stop this ridiculous game you’re playing. Can you not understand what almost happened…could have happened? For God’s sake, help us.”

He spoke sharply. His words demanded an answer. She jerked back. She cowered in the corner of the couch, silent for a moment. Her eyes lowered, refusing to look at Darren.

“This is Meghan’s house. She’s Joel’s wife, the one at the game. She’s a friend of mine. I had her garage keys while she’s on vacation. The car’s here, Zach’s car. He said he knew. I had to come immediately. He threatened to kill them if I didn’t. He said I knew what he was capable of,” she whispered.

“
On the phone? He called you?” Darren pressed.

“
No.” She shook her head. “The computer.” Wincing, she continued, “I bought a new laptop. You already have my other one. It was on when I was going to bed.”

Immediately, Darren released her and stood, motioning to Brophy. He inched over to the door.
“Go check the garage. Then get over to the apartment and get the goddamn computer before it disappears. Tell her lawyer…roommate…whoever the hell he is…you have her permission. Don’t care what you tell him, just get it.”

“
Not a problem. Be back in a minute,” Brophy answered. “But, Darren, go easy on her. She’s not on trial here.”

“
Not yet,” Darren said bluntly.

Brophy stared at him. Kennedy certainly wasn’t happy. Five minutes later
, Brophy knocked quickly on the door. He stuck his head in the room.

“
Kennedy—no car. An empty space. The other car’s registered to a Joel Warren. A couple outside in Warren’s parking spaces. All registered to Warren.”

Brophy watch
ed Cameron stare at Darren in disbelief and bit her lip nervously.

“
He said he knew I had brought it here,” she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“
Cameron,” Darren said, gently this time, glancing back at Brophy. “It’s not here. Your brother’s car isn’t here.”

Cameron withdrew back from him.
“Then where is it?”

* * * *

Darren opened up his office. He had no desire to have Karl Neslund show up and attempt to rescue his roommate. They needed Cameron where she was. He had her lie down on his couch. It took awhile, but she fell asleep.

He sat and watched her from his desk. She looked so innocent
, so vulnerable asleep. He didn’t know what to do with her, but he knew they needed time to decipher the details of what happened. He shook his head. None of this case made sense to him.

Brophy knocked on his door. Darren stepped around his desk and met him in the outer office with a clear view of Cameron sleeping on the couch. He closed the door slowly until he heard it click. He didn’t want to wake her.

Dr. Levy walked along side of Brophy with a tall, light-skinned African-American—FBI by the look of the shield on his belt. Darren eyed him. Something about the agent looked familiar. He recognized him from somewhere…the news.

Darren extended his hand.
“ADA Darren Kennedy. I believe I know you. You were in charge of the Beach Front Killer. Quite a lot of media attention.”

“
Special Agent Jackson Dunn,” the man responded with a brilliant smile. “Comes with the territory. Serial killers capture the fancy of a viewing audience.”

“
Agent Dunn specializes in serial killers.” Dr. Levy offered the obvious. “He’s been brought in for this case. As you deduced, he closed the Beach Front Killer last year and is now heading up the FBI’s investigation on this case.”

“
A task force.” Darren’s words hung in the air. He had expected it. He glanced over at Brophy, who wasn’t happy from the look of things. Darren could understand his reaction, especially with Agent Dunn in charge. Darren detected a certain arrogance with the man. Stepped on Brophy’s toes, Darren assessed quickly. Darren nodded toward Cameron, still sleeping in his office. “I’m assuming you’re up to date on all the developments and have news. Or else you wouldn’t be here at this time of night.”

Agent Dunn’s smile broadened.
“Let’s just say that we may have a connection to this case and one in another state. There are disturbing similarities…ones that seemed to have been confirmed with tonight’s attempted abduction.”

The agent’s words sent warning bells off in his head. This wasn’t good.
“Meaning?”

“
Meaning that we need to work together,” Agent Dunn said. “A few years ago, there was a string of unsolved killings in Virginia similar to the ones that have occurred here in Boston.”

“
I’ve seen the file,” Brophy said. His irritation echoed in his tone. “Two young men died outside of Norfolk with a single knife wound to the heart. The murder weapon was similar. A black stiletto. Vintage baseball card from 1969. But the file I read said the suspect died in a fire along with a young mother and child.”

Dunn nodded.
“It was never confirmed that the man who died in the fire was the killer. The local police received information that suggested Lloyd Bingham was the killer from an anonymous source. It was his sister-in-law and nephew who also died in the blaze.

“
It was suspected that Lloyd had a crush on his sister-in-law. She refused his advances and he killed her and her seven-year-old son. The authorities found knives similar to the ones used to kill the male victims. They found incriminating evidence on Lloyd’s computer. All circumstantial evidence.”

“
So if that case is closed, why do you believe it has a connection?” Brophy questioned.

“
Because the case wasn’t closed. It was left open. There were too many unanswered questions. The killings stopped. The case went cold.”

“
Now just a minute. Go back a little. When you first came in, you said that with tonight’s attempted abduction…why does that confirm the connection to you?” Darren redirected Dunn’s attention. “What has Cameron got to do with this killer?”

Dunn paused for a moment, seemingly trying to decide whether to divulge the information. His gaze fell to the floor
and then back up to Darren. He sighed.

“
It’s speculation at best. It is only one of the theories we are investigating. We received a tip about a suspect from a psychiatrist during the killing spree in Virginia. The psychiatrist expressed his concerns about a former patient…one he believes would strike again.”

“
Then why haven’t you guys gone after this suspect?” Brophy questioned.

Dunn shrugged.
“There was no evidence at the time to support his theory. Now, there are similarities that have raised speculation that the doctor’s theory may be correct. Every concern Dr. Reginald Schafer expressed seems to have been confirmed in the end. I can’t go into all the details, but now we believe that your young woman in there holds the key to finding this killer.”

“
Cameron? How?” Darren asked sharply, unable to contain his concern. “You think she has something to do with the killings? I don’t believe it. Hiding evidence—yes. But not murder.”

“
You misunderstand me, Mr. Kennedy. I said she was the key to finding the killer. According to Dr. Schafer, this killer is looking to satisfy his one desire—a family. For some unknown reason, he has attached himself to Miss Quinn. Look at the evidence.

“
He took the time to communicate with this girl. I don’t believe it’s the first time he has. This girl isn’t random. He has to feel he has some connection to her, whether she is aware of it or not. I don’t feel it’s a coincidence that suspicion fell on her brother and then her attempted abduction.”

“
Wouldn’t she have to know the killer pretty well for that to happen?” Brophy turned to Dr. Levy for answers. “Wouldn’t she have to have an idea?”

“
Not necessarily. I have come up with a theory after discussing the matter with Agent Dunn,” Dr. Levy said. He took his glasses off, holding them in his right hand. He pointed toward Darren’s office, where Cameron was sleeping. “Since her mother died, she has stepped into the position her mother once held. Cameron became a substitute mother to Zach. Her personality is to mother. Her profession—a nurse. I would theorize that somewhere along the way, she has befriended the serial killer. It could be someone close or a passing encounter, such as one of her patients. Someone who has misinterpreted her kindness.”

“
Okay, I’ll go along with you for the moment, but what does that have to do with the case?”

“
What if I told you I believe in his eyes she has become a substitute mother to him? It’s the only theory that makes sense.”

“
You have completely lost me,” Darren interrupted. “You said before these killings have been a sort of sexual release of frustration. Abused child grown up to take out these frustrations on unsuspecting victims. What does Cameron have to do with any of that?”

“
Yes…yes…I know what I said. I believe the killings are an extension of his frustration.” Dr. Levy waved his glasses toward Darren. Squinting his eyes, he continued, “But he had a trigger that released the killer inside him. If it’s as we suspect, he kills men to release his building frustration, but in his eyes he’s trying to protect her. He’s trying to protect his mother. I believe when she hid the supposed evidence against her brother…evidence that he himself planted…in his eyes, she has attempted to step out of his scheme of reality.”

“
He had to pull her back in. He threatened her and she played into his hands,” Agent Dunn added. “He played her. He held a carrot in front of a horse and she came running.”