Serial Love: Saints Protection & Investigation (2 page)

He stood outside
the room where the girl was still sleeping, her restraints would keep her from escaping. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he reveled in the feeling of rightness.
The right time, the right place, the right girl.
They were all sluts afterall…all of them. That’s what mama always said.

He looked down at the camera hanging around his neck. This part had gotten easier. In the old days, he had to develop his own film. But now? Digital and his computer made it simple.

Straightening, he sucked in another fortifying breath. With the long thin knife in his hand, he was ready. Entering the room, he smiled.

T
he early morning
fog draped the woods creating shapes and patterns as Jack Bryant ran along the path. Late spring in Virginia was cool, but sweat dripped off of him as he continued to follow the trail around the perimeter of his property. It wound through a dense copse of trees, their protruding roots caused him to note their locations, but gave him no difficulty.

The years spent in Special Forces had him well trained to run through all types of terrain, his focus clear as his feet found their purchase wherever he was. This trail? Easy. Pounding along the route, he remembered his time in the Army with pride…and fondness. Earning a place in Captain Tony Alvarez’s squad had been the ultimate goal. Those tours and missions made this run seem like a stroll in the park.

The back of his acreage sat at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains and he began to climb slightly. The oak and maple trees created a complete canopy overhead while the redbud and occasional dogwood gave the hint of blooms in the sea of green leaves. Moss and fern grew beside a small stream he jumped over before turning and heading back to his cabin.

He loved the early morning runs. A time to plan his day. Work through problems. And running the perimeter of his land gave him a chance to make sure the fence was secure. He had bought the secluded property for its privacy and had researched his neighbors carefully before purchasing. The back of his land bordered on the Parkway and the north side owned by a small vineyard, floundering in its first years of growing the vines necessary to make wine. The owner, from another state, only occasionally made forays to the property, probably creating a tax write-off. The vineyard manager on site checked out fine when Jack completed an assessment of him. The manager kept to himself and was dedicated to making the farm productive, leaving little time for anything else.

A small cabin rental facility bordered his land on the south side. Owned and operated by an older widow, the vacation destination was also quiet and well run. Jack had initially been concerned about the constant comings and goings from tourists staying in the cabins, but that had not been an issue. The land between their two properties was thick in underbrush and trees, with no walking trails between. The entrance to her facility was nowhere near his, so he never noticed curious passers-by.

Privacy was important to him. He shook his head as he continued to run.
Important? Hell, most of my friends consider me to be a loner!
And that was fine by him. He spent a lot of money to create his working retreat, not to mention the amount of expensive, top-line equipment his company required. Nosy neighbors, curiosity seekers, random hikers…
not dealing with them!
While his company’s location was not secret, it was also not broadcast. The ones who requested his services…private individuals or companies needing his help or the government agencies that wanted complete secrecy and discretion, never needed to come calling.

Jack had erected a defensible barrier around his acreage, using state of the art technology. Not only did he use old-fashioned barbed-wire fencing, but wired it to trigger his alarm system when breached. Security cameras maintained the area, making it virtually impossible for someone to be on his land without him knowing about it ahead of time.

He continued his run, satisfied with the security of his perimeter. Only the babbling of a nearby creek broke the quiet of the morning. The birds were waking, their myriad of calls beginning to fill the woods. Blue jays and cardinals dotted the cedar trees, providing a splash of color amongst the green.

As he rounded another curve in the trail, his house came into view. Made of dark wood logs, a stone fireplace and windows overlooking the mountains on one side gave the large building the look of a luxury cabin. The construction had taken a full year to build the structure and another three months to secure the property.

He slowed his pace to a walk, allowing the breeze to cool his body. The wide front porch beckoned him from his run, but he bypassed the chairs. Jogging up the steps of his house, he took a few minutes to stretch his warm muscles on the porch. His sharp eyes glanced around, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth as he appreciated all he surveyed.

Walking into the front room, he immediately went past the two-story living room on the left through the open dining room on the right and to the kitchen behind it. The large space, appointed with stainless appliances, was organized and airy. Grabbing a water bottle out of the refrigerator, he drank thirstily before moving down the hall to the staircase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he stalked through into the master suite, heading straight toward the bathroom. He reached over to turn on the water in the glass block enclosed space. Stripping while the water warmed, he then stepped under the spray. Jack was a large man, and the bathroom was something he built especially for someone of his size. The oversized shower, with its multiple showerheads, sent water sluicing over his body. It did not take long to wash the sweat from the morning run off his body and he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his hips.

Not the type of man to spend any time in front of the mirror, he quickly combed his hair and stalked out into his utilitarian bedroom. Simple, but comfortable furnishings, the bed linens and walls in muted blue and grey colors. The room, like the man, oozed casual masculinity. Tossing on a dark t-shirt and slightly worn jeans, he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

He made his way back down the stairs toward the hall leading into the kitchen. Before reaching the front of his house, he stopped at a closet door and pulled it open. With a few taps of his fingers on a hidden security pad, he entered the code and the back wall swung open, exposing another set of stairs leading down.

Descending the steps, he moved through the door at the bottom, walking into a spacious open room filled with computer stations and monitor screens on the walls.

He entered the hub of his company. Saints Protection & Investigations. One he had built from the ground up, filling the space with the latest equipment and the best men he could find. His dream…now a reality.

A large conference table sat in the center, several folders open in front of a man flipping through the papers.

“Morning,” Jack called out. “You hungry? The others will be here soon.”

Marc Jenkins looked up at his boss and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He stood, stretched his tall, lean frame and walked toward the stairs. Following Jack, he turned and secured the closet panel behind him. The opposite wall held another door, this one leading to the three-car garage built at the back of his home.

The two men efficiently prepared a quick breakfast as they waited for the others to arrive. Jack’s gaze glanced to the security gate as the code was entered.

“Bart and Monty are here,” he said, watching as the dark SUV moved through the gate and up the drive toward the cabin.

Jack continued to watch as the passenger alighted from the vehicle first, twisting and turning his huge, muscular body from side to side. Jack smiled, knowing even in the full-sized SUV Bart would have felt constrained. As Bart stretched out the kinks from the trip, Monty moved toward the front door. Physically the two men appeared very different. Bart Taggart, bulky muscles from his years as a SEAL. Monty Lytton, tall and lean, but powerful. Deceptively powerful. Bart looked comfortable on the football field and Monty could have entered any boardroom taking command. But both equally dedicated to Jack and the company he had built.

A few minutes later, the two men strode into the kitchen, offering head jerks as early morning greetings as they made their way to the coffee pot. The four men were soon joined by the other four members of Jack’s team. The group hung around the kitchen for a while, drinking coffee and conversing easily. To an outsider, the scene would appear they were friends gathering before heading out to a sporting event. But underneath the effortless banter, were men serious about their careers.

The seven followed Jack down to the basement control center and settled into the chairs around the table. They had worked together for about two years, helping Jack establish his business. A business that was growing in reputation.

Most of Jack’s duty tours with the Army’s Special Forces were spent as the Chief Warrant Officer for Tony Alvarez’s squad. The twelve member squad was known as the best, securing their missions with expert efficiency. Tony had been the consummate leader and Jack was honored to be his second in command. After Tony had retired, he began a security business in the state capitol city of Richland and several of his former squad members had joined him.

Jack had another year of his Army commitment and had been called to work with an inter-disciplinary team, tracking down some of the most wanted insurgents. Unsure how the team would function as a unit, he had been amazed. Consisting of a Navy SEAL, CIA contact, weapons and explosive experts, and several Special Forces, they quickly acclimated to their assignments, each bringing their particular skills to the table.

And Jack knew then what he wanted to do when his tour of duty was over. Replicate in the civilian world what he had accomplished with that group. The business had taken almost four years to create, but with his contacts, he was able to lure these men to him, each from a variety of backgrounds. With the blessings of their representative agencies, Saints Protection & Investigations functioned as one unit. More importantly, flew under the radar, using whatever means necessary to accomplish their contracts.

The men focused their attention on Jack as he clicked on his laptop, projecting images on the wall screen. “The governor has requested our assistance. In the past several years, there have been a number of murders of young women on college campuses. The FBI have only recently begun linking them as a possible serial killer, and the killing spree may have been going on for years prior. The governor is now concerned because the FBI have been unable to solve the cases and they’re asking for our assistance.”

“Why the governor?” Bart asked.

“It appears the murders only occur at the numerous Virginia colleges. Now that the press is starting to get ahold of the possibility of a serial killer, the governor wants to cut down on the negative connection with the colleges.”

Each man’s computer tablet contained the information they began to decipher, as Jack continued his dissertation.

“Here’s what we know. There’s no particular physical type of woman. They’ve been blonde, brunette, and redhead. Their body types have also varied from very petite to a full, figured woman. Their ages are similar, but that would be due to the university setting. All have been between eighteen and twenty-three.”

Blaise asked, “Why weren’t they tied together earlier?”

“It appears, like with most serial killers, he stepped up his operation. There have been reports of missing girls for several years, but with no bodies or evidence of foul play, they were not considered linked. Eight months ago, the body of Helena Rorton was found dumped on the outskirts of Rasland College. She had been raped and mutilated. Evidence supported that a long knife had been used to cut patterns into her skin. It was also determined she had been alive when the torture began.”

As the image of the murdered young woman flashed on the screen, each man cursed at the damage and pain inflicted.

“At the time, there was no reason to think the murder was anything but an isolated event and the local Rasland police handled the case. And there’s one other thing,” Jack said, gaining the attention of the group. “She was missing her right index finger.”

The men absorbed that information before Monty prodded, “Others?”

“Four months ago, Sheila Carlson, a freshman at Richland Community College was missing for eight days before her body was found. Also naked, sexually assaulted, and tortured with a long knife. That was the first time the state police linked the two murders, but there was no other evidence to be found and there were such dissimilarities between the two. Different age, race, body types, and even the knife marks were not alike. But she, like Helena, was missing her right index finger.”

“No forensic evidence?” asked Blaise, his eyes scanning the report on his tablet.

“Practically nothing. No DNA left. It was surmised the knife was the same. The bastard’s careful, I’ll give him that,” Jack answered. “Now, two weeks ago, Tonya Perkins, of Montwood College, was also found. She had gone missing three days prior and her body turned up in the woods near the edge of the campus.”

“I’ll assume her finger was missing as well?” Cam growled.

Jack nodded, sighing heavily. “Yeah. Since specific, detailed information was never made public, the FBI is assuming it’s a serial killer. And because there have been multiple reports of missing girls from college campuses all over the state, they’re now digging into those cold cases.”

“The director has agreed for us to take the case and work with them,” Monty added. The former FBI agent smiled, knowing it had been hard for the director to agree with the governor. Monty’s political undercover operation had been compromised and instead of staying with the agency, he had been lured away to the enticement of continuing his career in an unfettered environment, where carte blanche was the name of the game. Sure, the successes they had would be claimed by the various agencies, but in the end the goal would have been met. A successful mission.