Midnight Fear (22 page)

He fought until his body grew sluggish. The man grunted and strained as he pulled the cord ever tighter.

Hal felt his heart explode.

When he hit the rain-slick asphalt thirty seconds later, he was already dead.

N
oise from outside broke into Reid’s sleep. He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. A glance at the clock told him it was still early morning.

“What is it?” Caitlyn asked groggily from beside him.

He rose and went to the window. The blue lights of squad cars—four of them—cut through the darkness and reflected off the wet street below.

“Something’s happening. Stay here.” He located jeans, sneakers and a fleece pullover, got dressed and headed to the front of the apartment, grabbing his gun and shield. Opening the door, he froze in its frame. Five perfectly aligned chess pawns sat on his doormat. The pieces were details not released to the press, which meant in all likelihood the unsub had left them.

He’d been here, within feet of them.

Reid glanced around the chaos on the street, his breath fogging in the chilly air. Was he still nearby somewhere, watching to get his reaction? But he saw
no one looking his way. Uniformed officers were talking, redirecting cars. The activity had been going on for a while. An unmarked sedan with a blue light on its dashboard was double-parked against the curb, indicating a detective was also on the scene.

What the hell was happening? He would have to deal with the chess pieces later. Reid carefully sidestepped them and locked the door to his apartment, then jogged down the steps toward the officers. He held up his shield. “What’s going on?”

“Dead body in the alley, Agent,” one of the uniforms told him.

Already, a police barricade was being set up in front of the alley that separated his apartment building from a two-unit structure housing a German bakery and a dry cleaner. Turning the corner, Reid saw a jumpsuited evidence tech taking photos of a body sprawled on the asphalt. He moved closer, another jolt of surprise hitting him as he recognized Hal Feingold’s paunchy form.

“Who are you?” A stern-faced man in a trench coat wanted to know. He wore a gold detective’s badge on a chain around his neck.

“Agent Novak. FBI. I live over there.” Reid nodded toward his building. “I know who this guy is—”

“So do we. His name’s Harold Feingold. The wallet’s still on the body. Which means it wasn’t a robbery.”

Reid filled him in. “Feingold’s a former reporter for the
Post
—he’s been writing a book about a case I handled a couple of years back.”

Recognition dawned on the detective. “The Capital Killer investigation, right?”

He reached out his hand and Reid shook it.

“Detective Vecchio. D.C. Homicide. We’re still waiting on the M.E.’s office.” He placed his hands on his hips over his gun belt. “So, Agent Novak. Feingold was writing a tell-all about the case that basically made you famous and he’s found dead next door to your residence. You think this has anything to do with you?”

“I think it has more to do with the case I’m working now.” Reid noted the heavy ligature marks on Feingold’s neck. His eyes were open, his mouth gaping and tongue protruding.

“The copycat case.” Vecchio peered at the body. “But I thought the vics were all women.”

Reid voiced the theory forming inside his head. “My guess is Feingold was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He probably had me under surveillance, doing research for his book. Both he and the copycat were lurking outside my apartment and this is how it ended.”

The detective’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s some coincidence.”

“The unsub left a gift on my doorstep sometime last night, so he was in the same proximity. Feingold might’ve made him. Strangulation fits the killer’s M.O.”

“We can’t get a body temp until the M.E. arrives, but based on the lack of rigor mortis, I’m guessing he’s been dead no more than three or four hours,” Vecchio said. “A bakery worker comes in to heat the ovens at five-thirty. He found the guy.”

A uniform called Vecchio away, leaving Reid alone with the forensics photographer and the body. The camera flashed repeatedly, lighting up the alley’s dark confines. Reid’s chest tightened. He didn’t care for Feingold, but he didn’t want him dead, either. He also hated the thought that he’d let his guard down. That the killer had gotten so close. He’d been distracted last night by his need for Caitlyn and his own personal dilemma.

Another camera flash illuminated the concrete near the body. Seeing a small object on the ground, Reid borrowed an evidence bag and carefully scooped it up. The jagged piece of plastic was marked with the logo of an electronics manufacturer. Reid thought of the digital recorder Feingold always carried—it was the same brand. Unless the device had been tossed into the Dumpster, it appeared that whoever killed him had confiscated it.

When Vecchio returned, Reid alerted him to the missing recorder. He talked with the detective for a few more minutes, then walked back to his apartment. The chess pieces were still there, lined up like soldiers guarding the entrance. But the door was half-open, and Caitlyn stood in the threshold with her arms wrapped around herself. She wore Reid’s bathrobe, her face made pale by the streetlight.

“He was here, wasn’t he?”

Reid nodded, wishing he could diminish the fear in her eyes.

“The chess pawns,” she noted quietly. “There are five of them, but only four victims so far.”

He didn’t respond. He’d been thinking the same
thing. His guess was that the killer had wanted him to feel vulnerable, to be aware of how close he’d gotten to Caitlyn.

“We may be able to lift prints off the pieces.” Reid reached into his jeans pocket for the extra evidence bag he’d taken. He had already informed Detective Vecchio that the scene now had federal jurisdiction. “I’ve got to make some calls. You need to go back inside.”

“What are all the police here for?” Caitlyn pressed. “What’s going on?”

He could hear the buzz of the cops’ voices, as well as the honk of a car horn from an impatient commuter who was waiting to be routed around the disorder. The predawn sky had begun to lighten, revealing low-lying gray clouds.

“There was a murder last night in the alley. Hal Feingold. He’s dead.”

Caitlyn appeared shocked. She shook her head, her blond hair swaying. “I don’t understand.”

“More than likely, he trailed us here, but ran into the unsub.” Reid thought again of who else besides Fein gold might have been watching them last night. An image of David Hunter confronting them in the woods ran through his mind.

“The family confirmed it belongs to Bliss Harper.” Mitch pulled the evidence bag containing the necklace from his suit pocket and dropped it onto his desk. “Even you have to admit this makes Hunter look damn good for it.”

Listening, Reid stared out the office window, his arms crossed over his chest. The view hadn’t changed since his leave of absence—the same brick high-rises with tinted windows, the same sliver-thin glimpse of the park and busy urban street several stories below.

“What about the security cameras at the Metrorail?” he asked.

“Morehouse went through the digital footage last night. He was at it until after two. If Hunter used the train to leave the motel area, he wasn’t caught on camera.” Mitch joined him at the window. “You want to give me your take on what went down at your place?”

The two men had talked earlier by phone, but their conversation had been brief since Mitch was at the Harper household getting an ID on the necklace. Reid had quickly told him about Hal Feingold and the chess pawns, which he had already taken to the evidence room along with the plastic fragment from the digital recorder. The one thing he hadn’t mentioned was Caitlyn’s presence.

“Feingold was strangled outside my apartment sometime between midnight and 3:00 a.m. When I went out this morning to see why the cops were there, I found the chess pawns at my door.” Reid recounted his theory about Feingold witnessing something that had gotten him killed.

Mitch frowned. “Well, the unsub knows where you live. Don’t you see that as a threat?”

“I can take care of myself.” He was going to have to tell him, he realized. Caitlyn’s safety was more impor
tant than saving himself a lecture on Bureau protocol. “I think we need to request security for Caitlyn again.”

“No means no, Reid. Why would they reconsider—”

“Because she was at my apartment last night. I think she’s the real reason the unsub was there.”

“She was there
all
night?”

Reid understood the implication. He gave a faint nod. “I think the chess pawns were a direct threat to her, not me. He wanted me to know how close he’d been able to get to her.”

“Where is she now?”

“On her way back to Middleburg. Manny Ruiz drove into the city this morning to pick her up.”

Mitch’s gaze was hard. “Other than the fact that you’re screwing Cahill’s sister, which I already figured, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

Mitch paced a few steps away, scrubbing a hand through his sandy hair before turning back to face him. He appeared frustrated. “At the bar the other night, you seemed…off. Distracted. Like you weren’t even listening to me.”

Reid sighed. “Mitch—”

He tapped his own forehead with a blunt finger, not finished. “It’s like when they started messing with your brain, trying to get out that goddamn tumor,
it changed you.
This stuff with Caitlyn Cahill, even the way you acted at the Harper autopsy. You’re not in the game, buddy. Are you sure you even want to come back? You
need to talk to me and tell me what’s going on with you.”

Reid bowed his head. They’d been partnered for nearly nine years. He had wanted to know first what he was dealing with, but it wasn’t fair to keep Mitch in the dark.

“The neurologist wants to talk to me about the results from my last MRI,” he said quietly. “I’m having headaches again…bad ones. Something’s wrong.”

“Reid,” Mitch uttered, surprised. “How long’s this been going on?”

“For a few weeks.”

“Have you spoken to Johnston about this?”

“No. And I don’t plan to until I know what the problem is. The same goes for my family. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think.”

Mitch laid a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, if you want to blow the rest of the day off, I’ll cover for you—”

“I’d rather be at work. I’ve been gone for too long. And I want this case closed.” Reid focused on the files spread across the credenza in their shared office. Crime scene photos, court depositions and interview transcripts from the original Capital Killer case were stacked on the left, material from the current investigation on the right. “My neurology appointment’s scheduled for tomorrow morning. Let’s just go from there, all right?”

He tried to ignore Mitch’s concerned stare. His cell phone rang. Reid dug it from his suit pocket and answered. Going to his desk, he used a pen to jot in
formation from the caller onto a yellow notepad. The conversation took less than a minute. When he hung up, he said, “That was Cal Bernard.”

“The computer forensics guy?”

“There’s someone else besides Hunter on our radar.” Reid walked to the door. “The webcam hidden in Caitlyn’s house—Bernard just traced it to one of her neighbors.”

A
bsently, Caitlyn wiped down the butcher-block counter in her kitchen. She had attempted to make herself a late lunch—a bowl of soup and a sandwich—before going to the stables, but she’d ended up putting most of it back into the refrigerator. She didn’t feel like eating, her mind elsewhere. Making love with Reid had been more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. She had slept dreamlessly, peacefully in his arms, until morning brought with it the blue flash of police lights through their bedroom window.

The return to reality had been harsh.

She thought of the intrusive reporter. Hal Feingold was dead, and, based on the chess pawns, at the hands of the copycat who had been right outside Reid’s apartment. The body count had risen again. Caitlyn closed her eyes, attempting to ease her frayed nerves.

She had wanted to stay with Reid that morning, but he’d rightfully shifted into FBI mode and taken control of the crime scene. For more than an hour, she
had waited inside his apartment for Manny to arrive and escort her home. As she’d climbed into the passenger side of the Rambling Rose pickup truck, she had glimpsed Reid on the mist-grayed street. He’d been in discussion with a trench-coated man who was also in law enforcement, judging by his authoritative stance and gun belt. Reid’s eyes had met hers only briefly before Manny spirited her away.

Outside her house, the previously cloudy day had begun to brighten. She heard the muffled voices of Manny and Maria, and Caitlyn looked out the window to see them unloading chrysanthemums from the pickup’s bed. Maria had shyly mentioned her love of flowers and asked if she could work on the garden in back of the farmhouse. Caitlyn had given her free rein, even suggesting Manny take her to the nursery in Middleburg.

Dressed in riding breeches and a lightweight turtleneck, she retrieved her leather-bound organizer which sat on top of a newspaper Manny had left spread out across the table. She noticed he’d circled several listings for furnished apartments in town. As she read through their descriptions, the telephone rang. A look at caller ID told her it wasn’t Reid as she hoped. Instead, the name
Treadwell, Robert
appeared on-screen. Caitlyn sighed and considered not answering, but finally picked it up. Based on the number displayed, the call was coming from the house and not Rob’s cell phone. “Hello?”

“Caitlyn?” It was Sophie on the other end of the line. Her voice trembled. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The FBI and police are here. They’ve got a search warrant for the house. They’re taking Rob’s computer! I—I don’t know what to do!”

Her grip on the phone tightened. Caitlyn attempted to process what Sophie had just told her, her mind leaping ahead. Was it possible Rob was behind the hidden webcam, or was this about something else entirely? She ran a hand over her forehead, trying to calm herself.

“Sophie, listen to me,” she said above the other woman’s frightened whimpers. “Is Rob there?”

“He’s out of town. They’re in his office. They’re going through everything! What’s going on, Caitlyn? I heard them mention your name!”

Her heart sank.

“Hold on. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She disconnected the phone and stared blankly into the hallway. Despite the overtures he’d made to her recently, it seemed unthinkable that Rob was the one who’d invaded her privacy. That Sophie’s husband was the one who had been watching her. She felt disgusted. At the same time, another, even worse thought entered her mind. She and Reid had talked about the possibility that whoever placed the camera could also be the person responsible for the murders. Could Rob be Joshua’s copycat?

No.
For Sophie’s sake, she wouldn’t allow her thoughts to go there.

Caitlyn pushed the sequence of buttons on the security console so she could exit the house without setting off the alarm. Right now, she had to get to Sophie. Try to explain things to her. But she had no idea what she was going to say that wouldn’t tear her friend’s world apart.

“This could all be another mistake, couldn’t it?” Caitlyn said to Reid, her voice low. He’d ushered her into the sunroom to gain some privacy from the FBI agents and police officers filtering through the Treadwells’ sprawling, Georgian-style home. “I mean, you were wrong about Manny—”

“Computer forensics is very specific, Caitlyn. And Treadwell’s had repeated access to your house.” Reid stood with his hands on his hips. Despite his even tone, tension seemed to emanate from his body. “I expect what we find on his computer will corroborate our tech’s findings.”

“What would he be charged with?”

“At the least? Burglary of a habitation, possibly felony eavesdropping and harassment. And that’s if we can’t tie him to the serial murder investigation.”

“God,” Caitlyn uttered, feeling sick. “Where’s Sophie?”

“In the living room.”

She started to move past him, but Reid placed his hand on her forearm.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gently.

“Sophie’s my friend. She called me. She needs my help.”

Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. His gray eyes had darkened. “This guy was watching you without your consent. Try to remember that.”

He stopped speaking as Agent Tierney walked past them, heading in the direction of the house’s expansive kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, Reid ordered, “Go home, Caitlyn. Now. Your presence is inappropriate.”

“I can’t do that—”

“How do you think she’s going to react to you when she finds out her husband’s been spying on you?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead supplying it himself. “She’s going to be angry and hurt, and she’ll probably treat you like it was your fault.”

Through the sunroom’s heavy glass panes, Caitlyn could see Rob and Sophie’s swimming pool, now covered by a tarp for the fall and winter. The outdoor rattan furniture wore similar cloaks, as well. Compared to the summer months, the flagstone patio appeared bleak and barren. She bit her lip, knowing Reid was probably right about Sophie blaming her. Still, she couldn’t deny her call for help. The two of them were supposed to have lunch together the next day—Sophie was going to pick her up. Caitlyn couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Just let me talk to her for a few minutes, all right? Then I’ll go. I won’t get in your way.”

“Where’s Ruiz?”

“I sent him to the stables. He wanted to come with
me, but it’s only a three-mile drive and the middle of the afternoon. I told him I’d be fine.”

“Those weren’t my instructions.”

Her chin lifted fractionally. “He isn’t your employee.”

Caitlyn stared at him, wishing this hadn’t been their first conversation after what had happened between them last night. Reid released a labored breath, then nodded his consent. “Fine. Go talk to her.”

Traveling down the hallway, Caitlyn felt hollowed out inside. She tried to keep in her head what Reid had pointed out to her—that Rob had done something terribly wrong. But the rationale was lost in her sympathy for Sophie. None of this was her doing.

“Sophie?” Caitlyn said gently as she reached the opening into the living room. Sophie sat on the floral sofa, silhouetted against the room’s floor-to-ceiling windows that were covered by ice-blue silk drapes and gauzy sheers. She clutched a crumpled tissue, dabbing her eyes.

“They’re accusing Rob of spying on you.”

So she already knew.
Caitlyn sank onto the sofa next to her.

“What proof do they have?” Sophie asked.

Caitlyn swallowed hard, forcing the explanation out. “There was a web camera hidden in my upstairs bathroom. The FBI’s computer specialist traced the connection…it went back to Rob’s computer here in the house.”

“That’s a lie. They’re wrong!”

Sophie shook her head, sniffling. Caitlyn reached for her hand, but the other woman snatched it away.

“Rob said you have a crush on him. That you came on to him and he turned you down, so he thinks you devised this whole scheme to get even.”

The accusation stung and Caitlyn felt her face grow hot. She had to defend herself. “He’s lying to you, Sophie. I would never do that to you or him. When did he tell you this?”

Sophie’s mascara had smudged, and a blackened trail of tears marred her cheeks. “When I called and told him the FBI and police were here. Right after I called you.”

“It’s not true! He’s been calling me and coming by—”

“Because he’s been worried about you! That’s all!” She picked at the frayed tissue, leaving lint on her brown corduroy skirt. “I heard those FBI men talking. They’re trying to tie my Rob to those murders, too! Why are you doing this to us, Caity?”

The nickname made Caitlyn’s stomach clench. “I’m not doing
anything
—”

Sophie’s voice shook, its volume rising. “We’ve always been so good to you! Even when everyone else around here was whispering behind your back, we befriended you. We felt sorry for you!”

“Please calm down—”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Sophie squared her shoulders but still looked devastated. “I don’t need you here. I want you to leave.”

“Sophie—”

“Get out!”

Caitlyn stood stiffly. Sophie’s choked sobs were like arrows being thrown at her back as she retreated to the foyer. Reaching the open front door, she went through it and drew in a large gulp of crisp, fall air. Her heart ached for Sophie but it also hurt that her friend had so quickly believed the worst of her. She jumped at the sound of Reid’s voice.

“Caitlyn.”

She didn’t turn to face him, not wanting him to see the humiliation in her eyes. Not wanting him to know exactly how right he’d been. Who was she kidding? He had probably heard Sophie screaming at her anyway.

“Caitlyn,” Reid repeated, his tone less harsh this time. As she dug her keys from her purse, he said, “Let me drive you home.”

“I got myself here. I can get myself back.”

When she didn’t turn around, he walked to face her, putting himself between her and her car.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“You tried to warn me.” She located her keys, but her uncooperative fingers dropped them on the stone walkway. Reid bent and picked them up, handing them to her. His eyes reflected her pain, and Caitlyn had to look away. She focused on the assortment of dark government sedans and squad cars parked along the house’s circular drive.

“What happens next?” she asked.

“The Loudoun County D.A. will have to bring any charges relating to the webcam. The Bureau just wants
to interview him regarding his interest in you and any connection he might have had to the dead women. Did he know Bliss Harper?”

Caitlyn felt dread constrict her throat. She had to tell him. “He met her at my house this past summer. I…I had a small dinner party and Bliss came out for it.”

Reid squinted across the house’s wide lawn. An elaborate, tiered fountain was in its center, surrounded by sedum and mounds of red and purple winter pansies. A brick and wrought-iron fence gave the residence privacy from the road.

“Treadwell’s not answering his cell,” he said. “He’s checked out of his hotel in Atlanta. He was supposed to be there all week. He never made it to his business appointment this afternoon, either.”

Caitlyn realized the implication. Sophie’s call had warned him. “Maybe he hasn’t disappeared. Maybe he’s just trying to figure out what to do.”

“Maybe,” Reid agreed quietly, but he didn’t look convinced.