Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) (21 page)

“I just spoke with him,” Tara said. “He thinks it’s the same knife used on Catalina Reyes.”

Kelsey nodded. “And Alyson Hutchison. Her ID just came in yesterday.”

“That was fast,” Tara said.

“She’d been missing nearly a year,” Kelsey said. “Her DNA record was in the system, so as soon as I entered a profile, we got the hit.”

“So, now you’ve got three out of four victims positively identified,” Mark Wolfe said. “That makes it easier to get a feel for this UNSUB.”

UNSUB
, or FBI-speak for
unidentified subject
. Having worked for the Bureau, he knew all the jargon. He was staring at the screen now, which showed a wide-angle photograph of the wooded crime scene where Tara had spent the better part of yesterday sifting dirt.

Tara turned to Kelsey, noting her bloodshot eyes and the supersized coffee at her elbow. She must have been at the lab all night processing bone samples and running queries through the database.

“How long will it take you to get a profile?” Jacobs asked.

Tara glanced back at Mark, who was watching her now with a pensive expression.

“I’ll need more on the victims.” He turned to Jacobs. “But from what little you already gave me, I can tell you some basics.” He paused and glanced down, seeming to collect his thoughts. “These crimes are tremendously violent. And I’m sure you’ve already picked up on a common theme.” His gaze zeroed in on Tara.

“Wooded areas?” Jacobs ventured.

“That.” Mark nodded. “And also—”

“He hates women,” Tara said.

“Misogyny.” Mark nodded again. “That’s the overriding motive here. The beating, the strangling, the evisceration. These attacks are up close and personal, demonstrating an extreme anger toward women.”

“So we’re
not
talking about a political killing,” Jacobs said.

“Not in the usual sense, no,” Mark said. “Yes, Catalina Reyes was a political figure. But I don’t believe she was murdered specifically for her ideology. More likely she was targeted for what she symbolized in the killer’s mind. A woman who was successful, powerful, receiving media attention.”

“So you’re saying he killed her because he doesn’t like strong women?” Tara asked.

“He doesn’t like any women,” Mark said, “most likely as a result of a dysfunctional relationship with his mother. But he wouldn’t like Catie Reyes in particular because of what he views as her undeserved success and fame.”

Catie
again, just like Liam.

Any doubt Tara had that she was sitting across the table from Liam’s brother quickly evaporated. At first glance, he didn’t look like a man whose father was a mechanic. But underneath the expensive clothes and smooth manners, Tara saw a hardness there that reminded her of Liam.

She wondered if Mark had ever met Catalina personally or if he simply knew her as one of his brother’s clients.

“What about the physical evidence?” Kelsey asked.

“You’re talking about the knife wounds,” Mark said.

“And also the knife itself,” she added. “Our tool-marks expert believes some sort of tactical knife was used. Does that mean he’s ex-military?”

“Possibly,” Mark said. “But I wouldn’t rule out nonmilitary professions, such as cops or other first responders. Lots of people use knives like that, including paramedics and SWAT teams.” His gaze settled on Tara. She had no idea what Liam had said about her, but clearly he’d told him something.

“What else can you tell us about the UNSUB?” she asked.

“He’s strong, for one thing. These victims were deposited deep in the woods. In the case of Catalina Reyes, tire tracks were found half a mile away from her body. The soles of her feet were clean, which suggests he carried her to the final location where he performed the mutilation. In Catalina’s case, the posing of the body and the mutilation strike me as ritualistic.”

Tara shuddered. “Like this has some kind of religious meaning?”

“No, more like a step-by-step plan that he follows each time, such as a hunter might use to field-dress a deer. He’s methodical.” He looked at Jacobs. “As for the tire marks, they belong to a pickup truck or large SUV. I’ll know more details after I analyze the rest of the reports.”

Tara looked at Kelsey. “And what do we know about the newly identified victims?”

“Not nearly enough, but from what I hear, the task force is working on that.” She flipped open a folder in front of her. “What I have so far is fairly basic: Marianna Cruz, nineteen, reported missing in Fort Worth in September. Her remains were recovered in November, but we didn’t get the hit with the database until yesterday.”

“Employment?” Tara asked.

“None,” Kelsey said. “She had a criminal record that included several minor drug busts and an arrest for prostitution.”

“What about Alyson Hutchison?” Jacobs asked.

“She lived in Texarkana.” Kelsey flipped through some papers. “Also nineteen. She
also
had a few minor run-ins with law enforcement. On two occasions she was arrested for solicitation outside a truck stop on Highway Fifty-nine.”

“Doesn’t sound like these women have a lot in common with a wealthy businesswoman from north Houston.” Tara looked at Mark. “Or am I missing something?”

“No, you’re right. On the surface at least, they seem different from Catalina.”

Tara looked at Kelsey. “What about time of death?”

“I’m establishing that now, but as best I can tell”—she clicked to a new slide, this one showing a timeline—“Alyson Hutchison was last seen eleven months ago, and based on the condition of her remains I would estimate her murder occurred soon after she disappeared. Marianna Cruz went missing in late September, her remains were found in November, and the stage of decomp puts her time of death right around the time of her disappearance. We haven’t ID’d the third Jane Doe yet, but I’m estimating she was killed in the summer based on the condition of her remains.”

“So we have three murders that happened last year—February, sometime in the summer, and September,” Jacobs said.

“And none of them attracted very much attention,” Tara said. “Then Catalina Reyes is killed, and suddenly it’s all over the news.”

“What does that tell us?” Jacobs looked at Mark.

“A lot,” the profiler said. “Especially when you consider that Catalina Reyes was found in a setting that was a known hangout for teenagers. I’d say that by the time she was murdered, this UNSUB was getting frustrated.”

“ ‘Frustrated’?” Tara repeated. The word seemed much too bland given the magnitude of the violence.

“That’s right,” Mark said. “He was doing all this work, and he wanted someone to notice.”

THE MEETING BROKE
up when Kelsey and Mark had to leave, and Tara was left sitting across the conference table from her boss. She watched him jotting notes on his legal pad.

She took a deep breath. “Why wasn’t I told about the task force?”

He looked up. “What about it?”

“That it exists, for starters.”

He rested his pen. “We’re investigating a serial killer. A task force is standard procedure.”

“So you mean to involve the locals?”

He nodded. “Sheriff Ingram, Chief Becker. Couple of agents from our office—you, Martinez, Mike Brannon.”

Her temper festered. “I’m guessing Brannon’s in charge, then?”

“You’re in charge.”

She stared at him.

“I’m hoping you can provide a bridge between us and the locals. There are some tricky politics here, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Given your background, we think you’re the one we need to fill the gap.”

Her background. “You mean . . . because I’m from around here?”

“That’s part of it. You’re one of the few agents in our office who’s actually from East Texas. And your background’s in policing, which gets us some points with local cops.”

“And I’m a woman.”

“That, too.”

She couldn’t believe he’d admitted it. Had he really just put her in charge of an entire task force as some sort of affirmative-action move?

Maybe this was a PR strategy. Maybe he wanted it to look like the Bureau actually gave a damn that some sociopath was going around butchering women, whether or not they happened to be political figures.

Only that wasn’t true.

Over the past year, three young women from the same geographic area had disappeared, never to be heard from again. And not one law-enforcement agency, federal or otherwise, had launched a serious investigation until Catalina Reyes’s Lexus LS 460 was found abandoned in a park.

The media was going to be all over this angle, if they weren’t already, which meant the Bureau was in damage-control mode. It was going to be a firestorm, and Tara was going to be right in the middle of it, taking the heat on behalf of every badge involved.

Well, so be it. She was pissed off enough not to care.

“Are you having second thoughts about taking this case?” he asked.

As if she’d had a choice. “No, but I could use more information.”

“Such as?”

“What’s Judge Mooring’s involvement? Why’d he call us in on this?”

Jacobs leaned back in his chair. “Mooring’s politically connected.”

“I know, but that doesn’t explain why he called us in before the body was even identified.”

“He wanted to get ahead of it.”

“Ahead of what?”

“Two high-profile politicians from the same county, from opposite ends of the political spectrum. It’s no secret their camps don’t like each other. Mooring called us as soon as he heard about the abandoned car. He wanted the feds involved early to make sure the investigation was handled right.”

“ ‘Right’ as in focused on someone besides him?”

Jacobs just looked at her.

“Has anyone checked him out?”

“Discreetly, but yes,” he said. “I put Brannon on it the very first day.”

Tara’s mind whirled as so many new details—important details—came to light. She cringed to think what else she’d been left in the dark about. She folded her hands in front of her. “Can we talk about the elephant in the room now?”

“What would that be?”

“Liam Wolfe.”

“What about him?”

“Why do I get the feeling he’s part of the reason I was appointed to head up this task force?”

“Because he is.”

Tara tried not to show any reaction. She wasn’t surprised, really, that her boss would put her in this position. Jacobs was known to be strategic. But she
was
surprised that he was being so candid about it.

“All of these victims were recovered on or near Liam Wolfe’s property,” he said. “And he knew one of the victims personally.”

“He has an alibi for the night of Reyes’s death,” she countered. “He was in Aspen, Colorado, with a client, and then he was on an airplane.”

“I don’t think Liam Wolfe killed her. I don’t think he killed any of them. But I do think he’s the key to this.”

“How?” she asked, even though she figured she already knew. She wanted to hear Jacobs say it.

“We’re looking for someone who hates women. Someone who’s physically strong, who’s skilled with a tactical knife. Someone who drives a pickup and is familiar with the back roads in the area.” Jacobs leaned forward on his elbows. “That description probably fits the entire workforce at Wolfe Security. He’s got dozens of men working for him, and he trains another hundred each year on his property. Chances are Liam Wolfe knows this UNSUB, whether he realizes it or not. We need his cooperation here.”

Tara watched him talk, tamping down her emotions as her boss’s real motives became clear.

So, that was the reason he’d put her in charge instead of, say, Mike Brannon. Not because she was a competent agent who showed leadership potential but because she was female. Brannon had much more experience but not nearly as much going for him when it came to getting Liam’s attention. And Liam was key.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Tara said, “that Liam Wolfe is a former Marine, as are many of the men working for him. The loyalty there runs deep. He’s not just going to hand us a list of suspects.”

“I know.” Jacobs pushed back his chair.

“So what do you want me to do?”

He stood up, effectively ending the conversation. “Do whatever you have to, Rushing. But get him on board.”

M
.J.
pulled open the door to the Cypress County admin offices and was surprised to see Jeremy. He held the door open for her as she stepped in from the cold.

“Thanks,” she said.

He gave a brief nod as he walked out.

“Hey, nice talking to you,” she called, as the door whisked shut behind him.

She turned to the reception desk, where a woman was shutting down her computer, clearly getting ready to leave for the evening. M.J. walked over.

“I’m here to see one of your dispatchers, Amy Leahy.” M.J. cast a glance at the clock. “I think her shift ends at six?”

The woman slung her purse over her shoulder. From the framed photos on her desk, M.J. guessed she was in a hurry to get home to her kids.

“Amy’s out.”