Touching Evil (9 page)

Livvie chewed her bottom lip.  “My mom lives in Branson.  It’s a drive but we could stay there a few days.  And if necessary she’ll keep him longer, after I have to get back to work.  She was going to come here to do it, but…”

“Sounds like a plan.  Do you mind if I talk to him?”  At the uncertainty on her expression, he assured, “I just want to ask a few more questions.”

“He’s answered plenty already.  The kid should be exhausted, but I swear he’s more wired than usual from the excitement.”  She made a face.  “Whatever you do, don’t encourage him.  Right now he thinks he’s a superhero.  I’m waiting for the nightmares to start.”

Cam followed her through the condo to the small sunroom in the back.  Carter was ensconced on the couch there, gaze intent on a hand-held video device.  “Hey, buddy.”  Sitting down next to him Cam waited until the boy’s attention shifted from his game to him.  

“Mom says Dr. C didn’t get hurt last night.”  The boy dropped the game system in his lap and pinned Cam with a bright blue gaze.  “She says Dr. C wasn’t even home.”

With a glance at the silent Livvie who had propped herself against the doorjamb, he responded, “Well, your mom is right.   But you didn’t know that, did you?”

The boy shook his head.  “I thought when the guy told me to go inside that he was with the bad guy who was going to hurt Dr. C.  But he wasn’t, was he?”

“No, that was another agent who works with me.  What you did was a real brave thing.  But it was foolish, too.  Do you understand the difference?”

With a hunch of his shoulder, Carter said, “It means I lose my BB gun.”

“Well, that.”  Cam stifled a smile.  “You did something most kids your age would be too afraid to do.  That’s brave.  But seven-year-olds are too young to chase bad guys.  You’ll have to wait until you’re older to do that.”  He paused a beat before saying, “Did you see the bad guy’s face at all?”

Carter gave a vehement shake of his head. “He had a hood and something over his eyes.  I couldn’t even see the agent guy real good because it was dark when he was chasing us.”

It was exactly what had been in Franks’ report, so Cam had expected no different.  “You tried to help, and that’s important.  I have another thing you can do.  You want to help Dr. C don’t you?”  He saw Livvie straighten warily.  

“Why does she need help?  Mom said she wasn’t hurt.”  And worry about that possibility clouded the boy’s eyes.

“She wasn’t.  But we have to keep it a secret what happened here last night.  And we need you to keep what you saw a secret.  Do you know what a secret is?”

The boy looked decidedly unenthusiastic at the topic.  “I would only tell Zach.  Not even Ryder, because he blabs everything.  No one else, though, I swear.”

Cam shook his head solemnly.  “That’s not the way secrets work.  There are lots of things I’m not allowed to tell when I’m working a case.  Because if the wrong person hears it, a bad guy might get away.  I know it’s hard, but you can’t tell Zach or Ryder or anyone else, even if they ask you questions about it.”

The faster Livvie got the kid out of the state, the better.  There was no way to predict how many news organizations would pick up on the fake obit and when they did, how long it would take them to piece together facts about last night.  Hopefully reporters couldn’t track the kid down in Missouri, but that didn’t mean Carter couldn’t still communicate with his friends.

“Not even my dad?”

“Just mom and dad,” Cam answered.  He watched the boy’s expression.  “Do we have a deal?  Until I catch the bad guy?”

“Okay.”  Resignation heavy in his tone, Carter picked up his game again.  “But I hope you catch him quick.  I’m not real good at keeping secrets.”

“True enough,” Livvie murmured as she stepped away to let Cam go by.  “But we can be on the road in an hour.  I’ll make sure he doesn’t have any opportunities before then.  And I’ll make sure his dad understands the need for secrecy, too.”

“It’d be best.”  He slowed so she could fall into step with him, their voices low.  “The neighborhood is going to be abuzz in a couple hours and people will be calling to get your take on the news of Sophie’s death.  Might be best to avoid the calls even while you’re on the road.  Get settled in with your mom, get your story straight so you can feign sorrow like the rest of your friends.”

“I’ll do my job.”  She leveled a look at him from eyes that were eerily similar to her son’s.  “You just be sure that you do yours.  Keep my friend safe.”

“Believe me, Sophie’s my top priority.”

*  *  *  *

Cam opened his office door opened and stepped inside, stopping short in the entrance. “What are you doing here?  Where’s Dr. Channing?”

Agent Micki Loring turned.  “Maybe you don’t read the obits.  Dr. Sophia Channing passed away last night.  More information will be released upon notification of family.  I would like you to meet her replacement, Dr. Mona Kilby.”  She stepped aside and only then did Cam see the shorter woman who’d been blocked from his view.   He blinked.  

The dark foundation she wore covered the bruises on her face, but they also made her skin look several shades darker.  She wore a simple navy blazer and pants with matching blue flats.  The image was functional utilitarianism and completely unlike the pastel suits, skirts and death-defying heels Sophie usually favored.  It was the hair that gave him pause, however.  An unassuming shade of brown, it was worn straight to barely top her shoulders, with a fringe of bangs.  He felt a sudden and inexplicable pang of panic.  “You cut your hair.”  It wasn’t meant to sound like an accusation, but the two women exchanged a knowing look.  

“Relax, it’s a wig.  Mine, actually, so no judging please.”  Micki gave Sophie a quick once-over.  “Not bad for a few hours time, I say.  Once I completed the makeover we stopped at an optometric center and ordered brown contacts.  In another day or two we can change her eye color to brown, too.  I think it’s good enough to fool anyone looking for a blue-eyed blonde.”  

“And it has the added benefit of allowing me to rejoin the investigation.”  It was actually a jolt to hear Sophie’s voice coming from the other woman.  They’d done something with lipstick to make her normally full mouth appear thinner, although the split and swollen bottom lip was still obvious.  With a quick glance he noted they hadn’t forgotten to use the darker shade of foundation on her hands.

“Not bad,” he said grudgingly.  Cam would still prefer that she assist from the comfort of his apartment if at all, but even he had to admit that the disguise the women had come up with passed the casual observer test.  

“Not bad is synonymous with genius in Prescott-speak,” Loring said in an aside to Sophie.  

“I’m familiar with his dialect,” came Sophie’s dry answer.  “He’s the master of the left-handed compliment.”

“If no one’s looking for the deception, you’ll pass cursory observation.”  He strode past them to gather up the contents of the case file that was strewn across his desk.  “But if there is someone who suspects, someone who monitors our movements, they won’t be fooled for long.”  

He took photos from the file of the Ziegler box and the gurney and passed them to Loring.  “As long as you’re free, I want you to contact funeral homes in Polk and surrounding counties and ask if any of them had a theft of these items in the last year or so.  I just got a call from the lab and this gurney has been identified as a one-man cart used by funeral homes and coroners to load and unload bodies into vehicles.  If you strike out with the funeral homes try county MEs and coroners.”  He flipped the file shut and rounded his desk.  “If that doesn’t pan out we’ll need to take a look at the local companies that supply the two industries.”

Loring looked distinctly unenthusiastic about the task.  “If he was smart he would have just ordered them off the Internet.”

“Let’s hope he didn’t.”  Their chances of getting any web-based company to cooperate by turning over customer lists without a subpoena were far more remote than the task he’d just given the agent.  “I checked the crime feed and didn’t find any crimes in the state involving a body snatching, either from a funeral home or cemetery.  So we need to consider the fact that the offender has some experience in the area.  I’ve got Robbins calling funeral homes to check on employee lists for the last fifteen years.”

“Okay, I’m on it.  Let me know when you want me back on protection duty.”  With a wave to Sophie, the agent opened the door to exit and very nearly ran into Jenna, who held two steaming cups of coffee.

“Whoa.”  Jenna stepped back hastily.  “That could easily have been a work-related accident.  Not the way I like to get my caffeine.”

“Sorry.”  The taller agent held the door for her.  “Need me to take one off your hands?”

“I got it, thanks.  Although I didn’t realize Cam had company.”  Jenna stopped just inside the door.  “Should I come back?”

“Not without leaving these.  You don’t mind if I give one to my guest, do you?”  

Jenna grinned.  “I’ll give her yours.  Hey, Sophia.  Like the new look.”

Cam shot a glance at Sophie, noted her downcast expression.  “She’s a composite sketch artist.  Tough to fool.”  Although he hoped like hell Sophie’s disguise worked better on others they encountered, Agent Jenna Turner was the one person who should see through it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Sophie replied.  “And thanks, but I’ll pass on the coffee.  My caffeine intake the last few days has reached staggering levels.”

Taking a cup from the other agent, Cam said, “You finish up with Pals and Adams without strangling one of them?”

“The girl was still pretty worked up.  And she freely offered the information that Pals had taken a video.  After your little talk with him, the boy listed closer to forty names that might have been contained in the group he sent that video to.”  Deftly Jenna shifted the file folder she’d carried under one arm to her hand and gave it a slight wave.  “Have the names right here.  Along with the sketches of your UNSUB.  Want a peek?”

He sipped from the cup, giving a slight wince at the first taste.  If there was anyone at headquarters who could make a decent pot of coffee, they had long managed to hide their talent.  “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Jenna handed him the file.  Sophie moved closer as he flipped it open to reveal three sketches. One was the original composite drawing she’d completed from a witness account in Edina, Minnesota when Courtney Van Wheton was kidnapped.  He recognized a second sketch as the one she’d finished with Pals.  Cam studied the third that had been drawn with Trina Adams.  Given the fact that eyewitness accounts were notoriously unreliable, its likeness to the other two drawings was startling.

“No question that we’re looking at the same man,” Sophie murmured and he nodded.  Vance’s accomplice had snatched Van Wheton.  Had been seen last night assaulting the corpse of an unknown victim.  And was almost certainly the same man who had tried to kill Sophie just hours earlier.  “We already released the first sketch to the public.   The new ones can be released at the next press conference.”  

When Jenna’s eyes widened a bit, he smiled grimly.  Usually taking details public was anathema for him.  “I want to turn the screws on this guy.  He has every reason to flee the area.  He thinks his job is completed and he knows there’s a chance he can be identified by those kids last night.  We may not have much time.  The public now knows what he drives and what he looks like.  With any luck, somebody has seen him and will let us know.”

“I’ll get copies to SAC Gonzalez.”

“After that you can start contacting those kids on Pals’ list.  Leave messages.  Better yet, contact their schools about the need to have the students call in regarding a sensitive matter they may be involved in.  Maybe we’ll hear from them sooner that way.”

“You got it.”  Jenna flashed a grin to the woman by her side.  “Good to have you back on the case, Sophia.”

“I appreciate everyone’s enthusiastic welcome.  Present company excluded.”  She nodded in Cam’s direction.  

“Are you kidding?  That’s Prescott brimming with enthusiasm.”

“No, this is Prescott telling you to get on your next assignment,” Cam said pointedly.  

The two women laughed and his cell pinged, signaling an incoming text.  Withdrawing the phone, he read the terse message.  His gut did a quick vicious twist.

“And what’s Dr. Mona Kilby going to be doing?” Sophie asked.

With a feeling of resignation, he slipped the phone back in his pocket, gathered up the case file and headed for the door.  “Dr. Kilby is coming with me.”

“Where are we going?”

He held the door long enough for the women to walk through it then closed it behind them.  “We’re going back to the scene of the crime.”

*  *  *  *

Sophia hung back as they emerged from the woods that would take them down to the banks of the Raccoon River.  When Cam looked over his shoulder questioningly, she waved him on without speaking and he made his way down a rocky slope to where the criminalists still worked below.  Although she consulted on some of the most hideous crimes in the country, it was rare to actually be on scene.  Especially only hours after a body was discovered.

A slight breeze whispered through the leaves, hushed gossip among the silent sentries about the events that had transpired here hours earlier.  She stood quietly immersing herself in the setting.  Seeing it as the offender had seen it.  Trying to get a feel for the man who had selected the place to enact his stomach-churning fetish.

Mason Vance had set up house in his grandfather’s vacant home nearly forty minutes away in the tiny town of Alleman, east of Ankeny.  According to her GPS they were close to Van Meter right now, whose population was slightly larger than Alleman at a thousand plus.  Each of the six victims found so far had been buried atop burial vaults in rural cemeteries ringing the Des Moines metropolis area.

She was trained to look for patterns in offender behavior and this pattern couldn’t be any clearer than if the UNSUB marked his territory with a dot-to-dot drawing.  

The wooded area they’d walked through would seem dark and sinister at night, but right now sun slanted through the dense canopy above, painting the ground with fingers of light.  Six feet below was a grassy area that faced the river.  Only the lazy drone of insects and the sound of the water lapping gently at the foot of the bank broke the silence.  Under other circumstances it would seem idyllic.