A Killer's Watch (9 page)

“And he’ll keep doing it, until we stop him,” Ethan felt
Jeri’s impotent rage. “It was a good call, not telling her about the video.
What mother wants to know that her daughter’s death was fodder for God knows
how many perverts across the globe?”

“I couldn’t tell her, she’s not in the space to hear it,
now. But she’ll have to know, when we catch him, and it goes to trial.” Jeri
tilted her head against the headrest. “I only hope we don’t have to make the
same phone call to Trudy Wells.”

“We need something more to go on than just a concrete room,
and a possible connection to water,” Ethan guided the car to the highway.
“Based on the videos, we know his height is between six-feet and six-three.
Anna should be able to design a program to isolate men of that height who own
the type of property that we’re looking for.”

“That only works if he’s the owner, not if he’s renting, or
squatting,” Jeri raised her head, reaching for her phone. “But it’s worth a
shot. Squatters wouldn’t have the wardrobe that our killer does.”

Ethan remained silent as Jeri spoke to Anna.

“If we could somehow figure out his connection to
Clevestone, that would help narrow things down as well,” he said, when Jeri
disconnected.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she turned to face him.
“Anson’s tutorials would have included a warning about dumping the bodies in
the same location. Yet, our killer is ignoring that risk. I don’t think he
lives there, he’s too affluent for that community, but someone he cares about
does.”

“You think he’s making a point? Trying to capture the
attention of someone living in Clevestone?”

“Exactly. Based on the age range of his victims, I’d even go
so far as to say that it’s someone he knew, cared about, at the same age.”

“He’s fixated on teenage girls because he fell in love in
high school?” Ethan frowned, thinking that Jeri’s hypothesis was a stretch.

“Yes. Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“I didn’t think pedophilia could be caused by a lost, or
rejected, love as a teenager. I thought it started long before that, in
childhood, based on some kind of psychological issue, like most other serials.”

“There’s a new field of study that considers pedophilia the
same as other sexual deviances. Basically they’re saying that the desires are
intrinsic, they’re born with it,” Jeri explained. “But that’s not what I’m
talking about. What if he isn’t a pedophile at all? What if he is killing these
girls because they remind him of someone? And he’s leaving them in Clevestone,
because that’s where she is?”

“Okay, you’ve lost me. I thought anyone who molested
adolescents and children was a pedophile.”

“No, not always. Some people do it because they can, because
it’s easy, or because they are simply deranged, evil. But they aren’t
necessarily attracted to the child. That’s where pedophilia differs from, say,
a serial rapist who happens to attack a sixteen
-
year
-
old. Pedophiles are attracted to children. Typically,
they kill them to keep them silent, as a means of protecting their identity.
But our guy could be selecting his victims, not because he’s attracted to the
age group, but because he’s attracted to their type, because they remind him of
her.”

“And that’s different?”

“Sure it is,” Jeri warmed to the theory. “If we can figure
out who she is, then we can backtrack to her experiences when she was a
teenager. See who she dated, rejected, or who rejected her. It could go either
way, at this point.”

“Okay, assuming that this theory has merit, how do we find
her?” Ethan still thought Jeri was reaching. But he’d seen her solve cases
before, based on hunches he would have never considered.

“We look at the girls. They both have long, blond hair, both
around five feet, five. I need to see the images they put online.” Jeri reached
for her tablet. “Since they live so far apart, and have no activities in
common, he probably found them, trolling for pictures online. Maybe we’ll see
what he sees.”

“We checked for similarities last night,” Ethan reminded
her.

“Yes, but we didn’t take the time to view them, side by
side. Once the videos were available, we focused on those. Now I want to focus
on the girls, on the part of their lives they choose to share.”

“Just because a woman has long blond hair in high school,
doesn’t mean that she’ll have long blond hair as an adult.”

“True, but it’s a place to start. I need to see what other
characteristics these girls have, what stands out in their online images.” Jeri
arranged Shelby’s and Allison’s Instagram pages, side by side.

“They’re both obviously very feminine, as their room décor
suggested. Shelby even put up a series of
makeup
tutorials,” Jeri told him, studying the pages. “Both girls were popular, both
liked the same boy bands….oh crap!” she looked up from the screen.

“What is it?” Ethan asked, turning into the driveway of the
next home on their list.

“I’m using the past tense, for Shelby
and
Allison. I
didn’t mean to do that.”

“Saying it doesn’t make it true. Anna is monitoring the live
feed, she’ll let us know if something happens to Allison.”

“I know, but still,” Jeri put down her tablet. “Maybe this
house will be the one we’re looking for.”

“Let’s see.”

~~~

“Graham, darling, come in here a moment, please,” Belinda
Grant called to her son as he passed by the parlor door.

“Yes, Mother?” Graham stood politely, just inside the door.

“We had visitors earlier, two ladies from the FBI.”

Graham felt his blood run cold, but he kept a smile, firmly
in place.

“Oh? Whatever for?”

“They wanted to search the basement. They’re looking for two
girls who ran away.” Belinda didn’t realize that she’d gotten the facts wrong.

Graham did.

“And did they? Search the basement?” he asked, quietly.

“Yes, of course. It didn’t take long, as there’s nothing
down there. Which reminds me, did you ever call anyone to check for mold? You
know that Emma Watson had a dreadful time getting rid of mold in her house.”

“Yes, Mother,” Graham’s sigh of relief was undetectable.
“I’ll do that. Did they want anything else?”

“What? Who? Oh, the FBI? No, that was all. They said
something about believing the girls were in a concrete room. They were
searching homes in the area.”

“How did they know that?” Graham asked, sharply.

“How did they know what, dear?”

“How did they know that the girls are in a concrete room?”
Graham repeated the question, but he knew the answer. Somehow, they had found
his video feed. A cold sweat broke out on his brow, but he ignored it.

“How should I know? They’re the FBI, they have their ways, I
suppose.” Belinda looked up, noticed that Graham looked pale. “Son, you look
ill, are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine, Mother, thanks.” Graham struggled to get himself
under control. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to join you for lunch today. I
have a meeting in town.”

“That’s fine, dear. Make sure that you wear a jacket, it’s
chilly today.”

“Yes, Mother.” Turning on his heel, Graham purposefully made
his steps even and steady as he walked to the office.

Sitting at his desk, he allowed himself a few moments to
panic, before accessing the computer. Once there, he dismantled the live feed,
before running checks on the firewalls for any signs of penetration.

Good. The server was undisturbed, no evidence that they had
traced the feed to him. How could they, reason demanded? He’d routed the signal
around the world three times.

Next, he sent a quick message to his subscribers, alerting
them to the fact that he would be offline for a time. Promising that he would
record and publish his time with the lovely Allison at a later date, he also
teased them with a line about a second girl, when he came back online.

Assuming his bases were covered, he sat back to reflect on
the visit from the FBI. It could be a good thing that they’d come, now he was
off of their radar.

With no way to track his internet signal, no reason to
suspect that he had a second underground room on the property, he was home
free.

Relief flooded his soul as he realized that he was safe.

Reveling in the thought for a moment, he briefly considered
shutting down the internet enterprise, altogether. After all, he didn’t need
the money, collecting subscriptions was merely a way to ensure the seriousness
of his clientele. If they paid to view the murders, technically, they were in
collusion.

Pushing the thought aside, he smiled at the image of
Allison, laying still and resigned, on the disgusting mattress. He couldn’t
deprive his fellow enthusiasts any more than he could deprive himself. The live
feeds would continue, as soon as the heat was off.

Knowing that he had an audience also boosted his ego, though
he would never admit it.

“For now, you’re all mine, little Allison,” he crooned
softly to the screen. “And soon, you’ll have company.”

Checking the time, he realized that he only had an hour to
get the bed and cameras in place. The drive to Fremont required another hour,
then he had to find a way inside the house, to wait for the lovely Diana.

Anson would never approve of such a risky move, but he was
not Anson. He was better than Anson, the fact that he’d outwitted the FBI
proved it. They would not be looking here again, he was certain of it. Hacking
the video feed was child’s play, compared to tracing the signal.

Confident in his success, Graham headed for the garage. He
would ready the room, then leave for Missouri. By tonight, he would have two
playmates, primed for his every whim.

~~~

Thomas watched as Graham’s truck rolled slowly across the
field toward the old storage cellar. Mr. Grant had been spending a great deal
of time in the cellar lately, a fact that hadn’t interested Thomas, until
today.

The two women made it clear that they were searching for a
concrete room, where they believed that the two missing girls were hiding. They
had not asked to search the old cellar, and Thomas saw no reason to mention it.
It was not his place, after all. The Grants paid him handsomely to run the
household, nothing more. Whatever Mr. Grant was hiding in the cellar was none
of his business, and it certainly was no business of the FBI.

Besides, Graham Grant was no kidnapper. He was spoiled,
entitled, and thoroughly particular about every aspect of the staff’s duties.
But he wasn’t a murderer. Was he?

“The live feed stopped about a minute ago,” Anna reported to
Jeri and Ethan. “It just shut down, with no warning.”

“Why would he do that, especially if he was following
Anson’s model, and selling the feed?” Ethan turned in to the packed parking lot
of a fast food chain.

“Maybe he got spooked,” Jeri offered. “Anna, could he tell
that you were trying to trace the signal?”

“No way, not the way I do it,” Anna replied, confidently.

“Well, something made him take it down,” Ethan frowned,
shoving the car in park. “Let us know if it comes back up.”

“Will do.” Anna ended the call.

“I’m calling Dylan, maybe he did something that would alert
the killer that we were onto him.”

“You do that, I’ll call Monique, see if they’ve come up with
anything.” Ethan stepped outside the car.

“Hey, Dylan, how’s it going?” Jeri asked, as soon as she
heard his growl on the other end of the line.

“Not worth a damn, thanks. Did you see that he stopped the
feed? Bastard knows that we’re onto him.”

“Yeah, but how? That’s actually why I’m calling. Is it
possible that he knows you’re tracing him? Anna said that it wasn’t her.”

“I’ll forgive you asking me that, this time, Jer. You know
that I’m better than that.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jeri laughed. “We’re
just covering the bases.”

“I know, no worries. Have you considered that you tipped him
off? Aren’t you searching basement properties? Maybe you got a little too close
for comfort.”

“That’s a thought,” Jeri scanned over the list of properties
they’d already searched. “We’ll check into it. Hey, while I’ve got you, how’s
the fam?”

“Owen’s growing like a weed, and Roni is as perfect as
ever,” Dylan’s voice softened as he spoke of his wife and child. “You guys
should make time to come for a weekend, soon.”

“We’d love it, but you know how it goes. One job tends to bleed
into another.” Jeri sounded wistful.

“Don’t I know it,” Dylan sighed. “Speaking of, Anna tells me
that you’re pursuing a different angle, that you think the killer might be
trying to impress someone from his past.” Dylan brought the subject back to the
case at hand.

“It’s possible. She’s looking into women who, fifteen to
twenty years ago, both resembled, and were similar to, our victims. It’s a long
shot, but it something to try.”

“I think it’s good. We both know there’s a reason he’s
leaving the bodies in Clevestone.”

“Yep. If he’s reaching out to a woman, we’ll find her,” Jeri
agreed. “Hey, I’ve gotta run. Give Owen a kiss from me, and tell Roni hello.”

 “Sure thing. You be careful out there,” Dylan reminded her.

“Always.”

Jeri glanced up as Ethan opened the car door.

“We may be going at this all wrong,” he told her, without
preamble.

“How so?”

“What if we’re the ones who tipped him off? Us, or Monique
and Chloe? What if he owns, or lives in, one of the houses we’ve already
searched?”

“That’s what Dylan said. But how would we have missed it? We
searched the basements, and storm shelters, very carefully. I’m sure that
Monique and Chloe did the same.”

“Maybe there’s another cellar on the property, one that
isn’t on any of the records.”