The Stranger You Know (8 page)

She picked up her phone and punched in a number on speed dial.

Two rings, and then a sleepy voice answered. “Hutchinson.”

“It’s me. I need you.”

Chapter Eight

The FI team was exhausted, but vigilantly gathered around the conference table at 6:30 a.m. No single-cup Keurig today—they’d pulled out the big guns. There were two pots of coffee, neither of them decaf, already half-consumed within the first half hour of their meeting.

“I called Hutch last night,” Casey informed the rest of the group. “Unfortunately, he can’t get away from Quantico right away. But he’ll consult with us by phone and arrange to get to New York as soon as possible.”

“Good move,” Marc said with a nod. “No one’s better at profiling than Hutch. Although he’ll probably be less objective than even we are.”

“Probably.” Casey didn’t dispute that. “But it won’t stop him from getting inside this psychopath’s head.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Let’s be blunt. We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour reviewing the details we know. We can continue ad nauseam, but we’re not going to come up with a concrete lead. There’s just not enough to go on.”

“We were invited in by the cops,” Marc said. “Or we will be once Tom speaks to his captain.”

“That’s not exactly the way it’s going to work,” Ryan corrected him. “We’ll be kept on a short leash, and told what they want us to know. This is still technically their investigation, not ours. And you know as well as I do that we can’t sit around waiting for them to toss us leads.”

“Which is why we’ll be making it
our
investigation.” Marc spoke for them all. “We’ll protect Casey. We’ll find the killer.”

“You can’t protect me around the clock,” Casey said.

“The hell we can’t.” Marc didn’t bat an eye. “I brought my stuff over this morning. I’ll be staying at the brownstone until we catch this son of a bitch. I’m the best qualified.”

No one argued with that decision. Marc was formidable with or without a gun. He had physical skills that scared the crap out of most people. He also had the hearing and dexterity of a cat.

“I put my stuff in the third-floor meeting room,” Marc informed Casey. “The couch in there is more comfortable than my bed. And I’ll be one floor below you. Not to mention that Hero will be in your room. Between us and the alarm system, this place will be like Fort Knox.”

“I’ll program Yoda to respond to the slightest noise,” Ryan said. “I’ll start poking into Casey’s cell phone records. And during the day, we’ll take shifts watching her.”

“That’s not necessary,” Patrick intervened. “Our efforts are needed in a proactive way. You know from our last case that I’ve got access to the best security guards in the business, all of whom are licensed to carry a gun. They’ll go everywhere Casey goes, and watch the outside of the brownstone at night. She’ll have 24/7 coverage. Ryan, that’ll free you up to run the technology and strategic end of things, and Claire to focus on her psychic connections.”

“I really appreciate all this.” Casey set down her coffee mug. “And I’d be lying if I said I won’t feel infinitely safer with all those plans set in motion.” She stroked Hero’s head. “But Patrick’s right. Running interference isn’t enough. Assuming the fingerprints turn up nothing, we have to put our efforts into figuring out who this guy is and why he has it in for me.”

“You need to make two sets of lists,” Marc told her. “One will be a list of everyone—both personal and professional—that you had even a slight disagreement with.”

“I’ll run all the FI case files,” Ryan said. “Plus any cases from your consulting days. That’ll give us the big-screen potential candidates.”

Casey nodded. “And I’ll dig into every nook and cranny of my life, every detail of my days, to add to that list.”

“The other list will be of the killer’s possible next target,” Marc continued. “I want you to write down every single person you interact with who’s a petite redhead.” He thought for a moment. “If you know whether they’re natural redheads, that would be better still. My guess is this killer wants the real thing if he can get it.”

“Makes sense,” Casey said. “I’ll have plenty of time to do this tonight, since I doubt I’ll be doing much sleeping.”

“Tonight?” Claire shot her a quizzical look. “What about today?”

Casey blew out her breath. “We still have Jan Olson’s case to pursue. I’m not being a martyr. I’m pretty fixated on what just happened. But there’s a dying man waiting for us to find his daughter’s body.”

“Let me talk to Tom,” Claire said. “I’ll see how much police assistance we can count on. We have to work on both cases simultaneously. But, Casey, your life is our priority.” She tapped the table thoughtfully. “I was connecting with Jan’s energy when Kendra’s murder took over. I sensed death. And fear. Fear that Jan wasn’t sharing with anyone. She knew she was in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Patrick asked.

“Someone was watching her. Following her. She didn’t know what to do.”

“Exactly like Holly,” Casey said at once.

“Yes.” Claire nodded. “Exactly like Holly. And the stalker was new to this. Jan was practice.” A deep breath as Claire let the recollections fill her mind. “I could see Jan running through a park. She was terrified. Stumbling. Looking over her shoulder. Her stalker wasn’t just looking anymore. He was chasing her.”

“Did he catch her?” Marc asked. “Rape her? Kill her? Could you make out his face?”

Claire shook her head in frustration. “I never got that far. Kendra’s energy took over. I was gripped with it. It eclipsed everything I was sensing before that. There was simply no room for anything else.”

At that moment, Claire’s cell phone rang. “It’s Tom,” she announced, after checking out caller ID. “I’ll put him on speaker.”

“Hi, Tom, you’ve got us all,” she greeted him.

“Good. Then I’ll write down the office number, since I’ll be dealing with the whole team from now on. After a lot of arm-twisting, my captain agreed to your request. He complained about getting some pressure from the captain of the Twenty-sixth.” Tom was referring to the precinct where Columbia was situated. “Apparently, Casey Woods has pull there.”

“I’ve consulted for them,” Casey explained. “They have a great squad.” No need to get into their ongoing partnership on the Jan Olson case.

“Well, we’ll be joining forces on this case, since Kendra could very well have been kidnapped or killed on the Columbia campus and her body disposed of at the Brooklyn warehouse.”

“What happened with the fingerprints?” Marc asked right away.

“Dead end. Whoever this scumbag is, he doesn’t have a record.” Tom sighed. “We were really hopeful on that score. Anyway, I also want you to know that, thanks to social media, word about Kendra’s murder has gotten out. None of the details I shared with you, just the rape and the murder. There are counselors on campus talking to whoever needs help. And our detectives are there interviewing Kendra’s friends.”

“Anything yet?”

“Only that she was a studious, quiet girl who spent most of her time in the library. Her major was philosophy, so we’ll be interviewing all her professors. As for her whereabouts last night, she was supposedly on her way to a fraternity party, but never showed up.”

Claire had tears in her eyes. “The students must be planning something.”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing I wanted to tell you. There’s a vigil being held on Morningside Campus at eight o’clock tonight. We’ll have plainclothes detectives and video surveillance there.”

“Since the killer will probably show up to get a firsthand look at the emotional devastation he caused.” Marc spoke from his BAU training.

“Exactly.”

“Our team will be there, too,” Patrick told Tom. “We’ll keep a low profile and let you do your thing.”

“I figured as much.” Tom’s tone was grim. “Sometimes this job really sucks. But it sure as hell makes you want to solve a case.” There was a pause. “Give me your office number. I’ll keep you posted as information turns up.”

Casey complied, giving him not only the office number, but each of their individual cell phone numbers, as well.

As soon as the call was disconnected, she glanced around the table, focusing specifically on Ryan. She knew what was coming.

And it did.

Ryan turned to Marc. “Our surveillance blows theirs out of the water.”

“No question.” Marc finished off his cup of coffee. “Looks like we’ll be treading into that gray area sooner than expected.”

* * *

It was 6:00 p.m. With two hours left before the vigil began, the area was deserted, except for Kendra’s photo and a small circle of flowers surrounding it.

Ryan glanced out the window of the van as he, Marc and Patrick approached the campus. “Tom’s right. This whole thing sucks.”

Marc said nothing, although he didn’t disagree. He’d seen some heinous things in his time. That didn’t make a brutal crime like this any easier to comprehend.

Security was tight, as the FI team had expected it to be. Patrick got out of the van a block away and walked toward the campus grounds. He was wearing business casual clothes and had left his gun at home. He’d been given the necessary law enforcement okay. He’d have no trouble getting in. And he’d look like any professor or father paying his respects.

That left Ryan and Marc to do their own jobs.

The FI van pulled up to the security guard. Ryan reached into his pocket and produced his ID from New York Sound, one of the many corporate aliases Forensic Instincts had created to allow them to conduct surveillance operations without raising suspicion. As expected, New York Sound was on the approved vendor list. Once the guard verified that, he handed Ryan back his ID and nodded.

Ryan paused long enough to gaze around the area on campus where the vigil was about to be held.

“Where’s the closest place for me to park?” he asked.

The guard pointed, uttering a series of lefts and rights, which Ryan memorized. Then he issued a mock salute and pulled slowly onto campus.

Situated where he wanted to be, Ryan turned and nodded at Marc. The two of them climbed out of the van, unloaded the tripod base speakers and positioned them strategically around the area where the vigil would soon commence. Next, Ryan connected the long cables to each speaker and attached the opposite ends to the special jacks protruding from the side of the van. He climbed inside and fired up the equipment.

Marc went from speaker to speaker, waiting to hear Ryan say, “Testing one, two, three,” before he waved to acknowledge that Ryan’s voice was coming through loud and clear. Next, Ryan gave Marc instructions at each speaker about how to position it. “Up five feet, turn left twenty degrees,” he directed the first time, his voice emanating from the elevated speaker. The two of them continued the process until it was done.

To a passerby, it would appear as if Marc was adjusting a sound system. But inside the truck, Ryan was checking the angles of security cameras he’d concealed inside the speakers. Once the process was complete, he’d have a three hundred and sixty degree view of the entire vigil area. The output from each video camera would be recorded, allowing Forensic Instincts to analyze the footage, and use facial recognition software if needed. Casey had instructed Ryan to make the video available to her on the FI server as soon as they returned to the office.

Marc opened the back door of the van and climbed in. The place looked like a mini TV production room.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing around.

Ryan sat back on his heels. “Show time.”

* * *

Kendra might have been a quiet and private girl. But the vigil was packed with students, some of them white with shock, some of them openly weeping. Whether or not Kendra was part of their individual social circles, her murder hit them all hard. She was one of their peers, one of their classmates. Any of them could just as easily have been the girl found in that warehouse. Knowing that, they hugged one another and stood in traumatized solidarity, overcome by the horror of the situation.

Patrick moved among the crowd, subtly but intently studying the vigil’s attendees. No one paid particular attention to him, since there were other people his age, most of them parents who lived locally. They, too, felt a fearful kinship with the other parents—and not only out of grief for Kendra, although that was a huge part of their reason for being there. But they were also well aware that if this psychopath was targeting Columbia students, their own children could be in danger. Kendra’s own parents were, understandably, absent. They were in no condition to be out in public when they were still utterly shattered and in shock.

Marie, Kendra’s closest friend and the last known person to have seen her alive, made a brief but heartbreaking speech. She spoke about Kendra’s kindness, her commitment to her family and friends, and her determination to graduate and make a difference in the world. When no more words would come, she wiped away her tears and bent down to place a bouquet of flowers at the foot of the pedestal holding the photo of Kendra.

After that, students all filed forward, placing everything on the grass from a single flower alongside Marie’s bouquet to Columbia notebooks and T-shirts. The “pizza crowd,” all of whom were among Kendra’s small number of close friends, were huddled together. They each put a yellow rose—Kendra’s favorite flower—on top of the pedestal, and then turned away, tears rolling down their cheeks. Even Robbie was there, squatting to place an empty pizza box near the flowers.