Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (2 page)

“Suspect escaping through the bathroom window!”

She recognized the voice as the younger Canadian Mountie.

The ICE agent doubled back, nearly knocking Sami over as he ran down the stairs in hot pursuit of their quarry.

A light winked on in the room. The bright garish glow should have been welcoming. It wasn't.

She hurried forward; the scent of death assaulted her senses. She gagged but forced herself to step inside the motel room. Would she ever grow accustomed to the smell? She prayed not.

She nudged aside the men. Their bleak expressions made dread twist in her gut. She followed their gazes to the bed. Though she knew what to expect because she'd seen other corpses, including that of her childhood best friend, the sight of the mutilated woman lying atop the multicolored bedspread made her breath catch and tears burn the backs of her eyes. Her heart sank. Would she ever be able to stop this madman?

Justin stumbled out of the bathroom doorway, holding his bleeding nose. “A guy was hiding in the bathtub. He dived out the open bathroom window.”

“And dropped two stories?” the man in charge, Inspector Drew Kelley, questioned. He stood well over six feet, with massive shoulders that filled out the midnight blue uniform beneath his flak vest. He wore his dark hair shorn in a classic clean cut. His hazel eyes reminded her of the leaves in fall.

Justin shrugged, clearly as perplexed as Drew.

“Agent Fallon is in pursuit,” Justin supplied.

Drew spoke into a radio attached to his shoulder, his commands sending others on the hunt, as well.

Fury erupted in Sami's chest. If the Canadian hadn't stopped her... She still had a chance to catch Birdman. Sami ran toward the busted hotel room door. Her gaze hit the wall over the bed. Her feet skidded to an abrupt halt.

Defacing the plain white wall was a rudimentary depiction of a set of eyes drawn in bright red. In blood.

The world tilted. Shivers of fear slid along her limbs. She almost dropped her knife. This was an ambush. The killer had anticipated her arrival. He'd wanted her to see that he was in control.

“Out with you,” Drew said to Justin. “We don't need your blood contaminating the scene.” Justin left the room.

Drew turned his attention to Luke. “Secure the perimeter. This is a crime scene.”

The fresh-faced agent nodded grimly and left to do the big guy's bidding.

Sami met Drew's gaze. He watched her with an intensity that would have unnerved her but she was too freaked out to be fazed.

“How did you...?”

Interpreting his question of how she escaped the ties binding her to the chair, she held up her knife. “Your man didn't do a thorough search.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes.

“Why did you think a drug deal was going down here?” she asked.

Drew ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “US Immigration and Customs Enforcement received an anonymous tip about drugs being smuggled from the US to Canada and a major buy was supposedly taking place here tonight.”

“It was Birdman.”

“Who?”

“The killer I'm tracking. He killed this woman. And he wanted you here. He wanted me here.” Cold fingers of dread traipsed up her back. “He knows I'm after him.”

“Why would he call in a phony crime and bring authorities here?” Drew asked.

She stared back at the wall. “I believe you saved my life, Inspector.”

“You think he wanted to kill you?”

“Maybe he wants me dead.” She lifted a shoulder to convey she was guessing. “Maybe he wants me to suffer.”

“Why?”

“I think because I'm the only one to connect the dots.” She turned to stare at the Canadian. The swirling depths of his eyes made her feel dizzy. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which was set in a hard line.

She forced herself to straighten and meet his stare once again. “He either would have killed me or he would have framed me for this woman's murder.” She'd almost walked into his trap. A shiver skated across her nape. “Instead of a drug bust, you'd be arresting a supposed murderer. Me.”

“Why do you call him Birdman?”

She tucked her knife back into her boot and then withdrew from her pocket the photocopy of the postcard from the last crime scene. She handed it to him.

Drew studied the image of the same low-budget motel they now stood in.

“Look on the back of the postcard,” she instructed.

“‘Room 218.'” Grim anger darkened the complexities of his eyes. “That's how you knew to come here.”

“Yes. And see the little drawing in the bottom corner?”

“A bird. Crude but identifiable.”

“Birdman. All his bread crumbs hold similar images. Sometimes they're hand drawn, as that one is. Sometimes he uses a stamp or stickers with the same type of bird image.” An image she couldn't get out of her head. “I've scoured the makers of both the stickers and the stamps, but they're too generic and sold too widespread to be of use tracking down Birdman through his purchases.”

Drew's brow creased. “Where did he leave this?”

She inhaled as the crime scene flashed through her mind. “Washington, DC. The postcard was tucked into the shirt of his fourth victim.” Her eyes flicked to the bed and back. “This is number eight. As far as I know.”

“So he tells you where he'll strike next.”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “Or where he's been.” A knot twisted in her chest. “The clue on the third victim actually pointed to victim number five. And the bread crumb found at number two led to number six.” At Drew's confused looked, she explained. “Time of death confirms the order.”

“Why is a lone FBI agent hunting this Birdman?”

A sour taste filled her mouth. When her boss found out where she was and what she was doing...she'd probably find herself in the unemployment line. But that was a risk she was willing to take. “I'm the only one who figured out the deaths are related. All the deaths occurred in different cities, different jurisdictions. I only stumbled across the connection six months ago.”

Because of Lisa. Her heart cramped.

Her eyes swept over the room looking for the clue to the killer's next—or already dead—victim.

There, propped up against the television set. A small square object. She sucked in air as dread flooded her veins. From the leg pocket of her pants she grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and slipped them on.

Drew's gaze, homed on her back like a laser, followed her as she walked to the console and gingerly picked up the credit card. She read the name embossed in silver lettering. James Clark.

Her throat closed up. The implications ricocheted through her mind, setting off clanging bells. A man's credit card?

She flipped the card over. Her heart stalled. A bright yellow sticker of a bird flashed at her like a neon light.

The blood drained from her head, making her light-headed. Slowly, she turned to Drew.

Concern filled his face. “What's wrong?”

“Eight bodies. All women, all killed exactly the same way.” She held out the card. “Birdman is changing his MO.”

TWO

A
fter donning a glove to keep his prints off the evidence, Drew studied the credit card for a moment before lifting his gaze to Sami. She stood stiff as a board with her fists at her side. Though she tried to hide it, he could see she was wigged out by this turn of events. Her face had gone pasty white. She sucked in air, in and out, in and out.

Unexpected empathy twisted in his gut. The last thing he needed was for her to pass out in the middle of a crime scene and contaminate the evidence. Taking her by the elbow, he propelled her out of the motel room, away from the grisly scene and the eerie drawing on the wall.

“We'll turn the card over to our forensic team when they arrive to process the room and handle the victim,” he said once they were on the balcony.

He tucked the credit card inside an evidence bag. According to Sami, the killer's MO was evolving. Birdman, as she'd called him, was becoming more comfortable, more confident. Ready to add men to his repertoire.

It wasn't unusual for a serial murderer to make subtle changes to their form of homicide as they grew more adept at killing, but a sudden change in gender? That was uncommon, though not unheard of. Was there more than one killer? Were the deaths Sami was investigating even related to the one here?

He couldn't discount the bird image. She believed the bird was the killer's signature. But Drew didn't know what the symbol represented to the murderer.

“We need to run the name on the card.” Her terse tone matched the rapid clip of her stride. “Find him. Though it's probably too late.”

“The credit card could belong to the victim in this room. Her husband's?” Drew offered, though he doubted his own speculation.

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her certainty wouldn't be swayed. Not that he blamed her. She was obviously committed and passionate about finding this murderer. He appreciated that. Police work took dedication and perseverance. Sometimes to the detriment of everything else in one's life.

He should know. He didn't have much beyond his work. Which was fine with him. He didn't need anything or anyone else. It was simpler not to have a personal life, because outside the job, it was too easy to let his guard down as he had with his ex-wife. He had no intention of letting anyone else rip his heart to shreds.

Once they were in the parking lot, Drew headed for the American agents, Border Patrol Agent Wellborn and ICE Agent Fallon. They gathered with the rest of the IBETs team at the back of a van that housed their equipment. Only a few other cars dotted the parking lot. The motel didn't do a huge business, it seemed, just enough to stay solvent.

Justin's nose no longer bled and thankfully didn't look broken. Drew led Sami to the group of men.

“Did you catch him?” Sami asked Luke, clearly finding him more approachable than Agent Fallon. Drew didn't blame her. Fallon could be intimidating, but Drew also knew he was a good man to have watch your back. Fallon knew how to get a job done.

“No. He escaped,” Luke replied, frustration evident in his voice.

“He jumped into a sedan and took off,” Canadian Border Services agent Nathaniel Longhorn offered. A First Nation descendant, Nathaniel kept his black hair long and tied back with a leather strap. He was lean, muscular and deadly with a knife. Drew was glad to have him on his team. “I've radioed in the license plate to the Vancouver police and to the border crossing.”

“Secure the scene and wait for Forensics to show,” Drew instructed. Then he handed the evidence bag containing the credit card to Justin. “Run the name. Find out where this was last used and see if you can track down the man.”

Justin peered at the credit card. “Will do.”

“Whoever that card belongs to is a potential victim, if not dead already,” Sami interjected.

Blake slid his gaze to her. “You sound sure, Special Agent Bennett. And yes, I did check on your credentials.” He smirked. “Your boss is eager to talk to you.”

Sami glanced at Drew, then back to Blake. “I am sure.”

Interesting that she didn't elaborate or acknowledge Blake's remark that her boss wanted to talk to her. She'd indicated that no one took her claim of a serial killer seriously. Was her presence here unsanctioned?

He wasn't sure if he was on board with the whole serial-killer angle either but he did have a dead body to contend with.

To the men, he said, “Call me when you know anything. I'm taking Special Agent Bennett to headquarters.”

At Sami's questioning look, he added, “You can call your boss from there. The IBETs team works out of the consulate general's building on West Pender Street here in Vancouver. The consul general along with US Homeland Security provide oversight for IBETs as well as other binational interagency task forces.”

“So I was right. You are working together as a joint team,” she murmured, her gaze raking over the men.

“Yes. We're part of the Integrated Border Enforcement Teams—IBETs. There are several such task forces across the shared border between our two countries. Need to keep everyone safe, eh?”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes, I'm aware. Can I have my gun and ID back?”

Blake removed the Glock he'd tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “Here you go, princess.”

Her lip curled.

Drew suppressed a smile, though he didn't condone the rudeness of his fellow team member. Blake handed over her ID and Drew gestured for Sami to follow him to where he'd stashed his vehicle. “This way.”

He opened the passenger door to his twenty-year-old Land Cruiser.

“Sweet ride,” she said as she slid inside.

He wasn't into fancy and new. “I like vintage.”

When he climbed into the driver's seat, she said, “I have a 1964 Chevrolet Corvair convertible that was my father's. It runs but needs an overhaul. One of these days I'll have the car restored.”

“Nice. What color?”

“Baby blue.”

Like her eyes. “Pretty.”

“It was Dad's pride and joy back in the day.”

He didn't miss the note of pride and affection in her tone. “Where's he now?”

“He and Mom live in Seaside, Oregon.”

“Your hometown?”

“Yep. Born and raised Oregonian.” She described the beachside town in great detail while drumming her fingers on her knee. He sensed her monologue stemmed from nervous energy. Her words made him curious enough to want to visit the ocean town. If only to see it the way she did. She obviously loved her parents and the community she grew up in.

When she fell silent, he asked, “How did you decide to become a federal agent?”

She didn't immediately answer. As the silence stretched, he figured she wasn't going to respond. Then she said, “I have this deep-seated need to see justice done.”

Her answer resonated within him. He, too, felt the same drive. He slanted her a glance. Her face was turned away, and she stared out at the passing city. A clear signal that she was done with the conversation. He decided to honor the unspoken request.

When they arrived at the consulate building, Drew parked in his usual spot. They entered the skyscraper and took the elevator to the fifth floor. Drew ushered Sami to the IBETs offices. Few lights glowed in the quiet building. The cubicles and offices were empty. In the corner office where he had his desk, he gestured for her to take a seat in one of the two red upholstered chairs facing the desk. “You can use the desk phone to call your boss.”

She didn't sit. Instead she produced a cell phone from one of her pants pockets. “I'll step out into the hall.”

Nodding, he rounded the large oak desk to sit in the leather captain's chair. “I'll take you to your hotel after I write my report.” And put her on the next plane back to the United States. He couldn't have her running around messing up any more operations.

He watched her silently leave the office, her back straight, her chin level. He wondered what shade of blond her hair was underneath the dark stocking cap. Giving himself a mental shake, he opened an email window and copied the people in charge of the IBETs program—the consulate general, the deputy director for US Homeland Security and the RCMP deputy commissioner of federal policing.

He quickly detailed the events of the evening, as well as his assessment that there might be a potential serial killer on the loose but that he had to do further research before moving on this information. He wasn't ready to buy into Sami's claim yet, despite the sincerity of the pretty agent.

* * *

“You are supposed to be on vacation, Agent Bennett.” Special Agent in Charge Rob Granger's voice boomed into Sami's ear. “Why are you in Vancouver, interloping on an IBETs investigation?”

Sami rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand while she stood in the hallway a few feet from Drew's office. The carpet beneath her feet had a dizzying geometric pattern that added to the headache brewing behind her eyes.

She turned her back to Drew's open door while she quickly explained to her boss her theory that Birdman had set her up. “There was no drug deal going down. It was a trap.”

“If that is true, Agent Bennett, all the more reason for you to back off.”

“Sir, he's escalating.” She told him about the credit card. “Something has changed. If I stop now, how many more people will die? I can't let this go.”

Granger's voice dropped. “You're a good agent, Samantha. With a promising career ahead of you. I would hate to see you throw all that away on a personal vendetta.”

“This isn't a vendetta.” Personal, yes. Lisa was like a sister. But Sami wanted to see justice done, as she'd told Drew. She didn't want any more lives lost. “Sir, please, let me follow the clues where they lead.”

“You really do believe there's a case here?”

“I do, sir. And it's within the purview of our office.”

“Then we need to assemble a team. Get a profiler involved. Go through the proper protocol. I'll contact the Legat there in Vancouver and get the ball rolling.”

The FBI had sub offices located in various parts of the world. The Legats—legal attachés—liaison with the governing authorities. Canada had three sub offices operating in Vancouver, Toronto and the main sub office in Ottawa. Though Sami would appreciate any help they could provide it would take time. Time that James Clark might not have. Or the next victim and the next.

“That sounds great, sir, but in the meantime this unidentified subject is free to continue to kill.” Why didn't he understand that she needed to move now, not wait for an official task force to be formed? “Sir, I'm close. I can feel it.”

He heaved a sigh. She could picture him rubbing a hand over his jaw the way he did when he was faced with a decision. She sent up a quick prayer he would see the logic in her request. She liked and respected her boss. He and his family were good people.

“I suppose what you do on your own time is none of my business.” He paused, then added, “Until it is.”

She smiled and leaned back against the hallway wall. “I have two weeks of vacation time accumulated.”

“Indeed. I'm giving you some leeway, Agent Bennett. As long as you are an agent of the FBI, you will act accordingly. Check in with the local police and keep me apprised of any and all developments at all times. That means you don't act until you've talked to me. Follow, survey, observe. Gather information. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I hope I won't regret this, Agent Bennett.”

“You won't, sir.”

“Don't do anything stupid, Samantha. If you so much as get a whiff of danger, call for backup. Tonight could have gone horribly wrong.”

Her insides twisted with the truth of his words. “Yes, sir.”

After hanging up, Sami found the restroom, where she rinsed her face with cold water. The white tiled sink and chrome faucet gleamed in the overhead fluorescent lights. A large rectangular mirror covered the wall behind the sink and her reflection stared back at her.

Tonight could have gone horribly wrong.

The words rang through her head. If Drew hadn't stopped her from entering that motel room, what would have happened?

But he had and now she was in the Canadian Consulate General's headquarters. A place she'd never imagined she'd end up tonight. But then again, she hadn't known what to expect. Certainly not being detained by a handsome Canuck with control issues.

Her hands shook. A normal response given the adrenaline letdown. She needed to pull herself together.

But the frustration from not catching Birdman tightened her shoulder muscles. She should have been used to disappointment by now, but pessimism wasn't normally her bag. Lisa would say Sami was a discouraged optimist. An oxymoron for sure.

A knock on the door startled her. Her hand went to her holstered gun. “Yes?”

“I'm finished with my report. Are you ready?” Drew's muffled voice eased the spike of anxiety.

“Be right out,” she called.

She removed her stocking cap and let her hair fall to her shoulders. She finger combed the long strands as best she could then tied them back with a scrunchie she'd found in a pocket. She pinched her cheeks to give her face some color, but the dark circles of fatigue rimming her eyes were a lost cause. What did it matter, anyway? She wasn't trying to impress Drew.

She stuffed the cap into her pocket before opening the door. Drew stood with one shoulder propped against the wall, his tall, lean frame relaxed. Handsome. The thought invaded her mind. The man was definitely good-looking, even with the signs of fatigue around his eyes and the day's growth of beard shadowing his strong jawline.

He'd changed into navy khakis and a collared shirt beneath a jacket with the letters RCMP on the breast pocket, and on the back, as she'd seen earlier. Like hers. Only she had no jurisdiction here.