Drop Dead Perfect (An Ellen Harper Psycho-Thriller) (25 page)

“What say you now, Mother?” Kyle asked under his breath. “Still worthless?”

Taking one last look at the wall where Damon and Joannie hung, he nodded to both, then
moved over to Rachel Dupree and knelt at her side. He watched her breast heave in a peaceful rhythm. Her hair was more red than auburn, framing an unforgettable face. Her eyes, when open, were a piercing blue and unnerving—they were difficult to read. Not for him, of course, and she’d sensed it too. That made it easy.

Standing, he kissed her and felt his stomach flutter. He wasn’t in the market for a woman, not anymore, at least not now, but getting her to the point of answering his question was taking on a whole other excitement. This was no longer about Damon, but about Kyle Black: his wants, his needs. And when the time came, this beautiful woman would be his newfound joy.

He moved through the door, skipped down the steps, and pressed the green security button that gave him an up-to-the-moment scan of the eastside parking lot. Seeing it was clear, he moved up the next set of steps, pressed the release of the door, and exited the warehouse, heading toward the two vehicles he had parked four blocks away.

Glancing back to the door, he watched it close and once again, become part of the foundation of the old structure. It blended perfectly with the outside of the building.

He smiled. It had taken him and Damon a year to add their own special touches to the secret exit that had been used by the previous owners of the building. The owners had wanted to ensure escape in the event the authorities figured out the location of their cocaine distribution business. Even after the dealers were arrested in another part of town, the cops had never figured it out. When the building went up for auction, Kyle bought it, hoping to use it for business and personal needs. Discovering the secret room had been the real bonus.

A few remote sensors, an electronic door insulated for sound proofing, and the cameras had been easy things to install for an accomplished electrical engineer like himself. Even though they’d done most of the work at night, it had not been a difficult task. Now, the hidden room was
perfect for his personal playroom. Just like the secret door leading to the outside. And he’d use them.

Walking out the steps on the opposite side of the building, he r
eached the next street over, then turned south, strolling like he was without a care in the world.

His thoughts turned to the lovely Rachel and the unfortunate detective. It’d be hours, maybe even a day, before Kyle would return to his
home away from home
, but the wait would be worth it, for all of them.

Besides, he had one more guest to account for.

The most important one.

CHAPTER-45

Two hours later, standing to the side of the mobile lab, Ellen was giving her three FT teams final instructions on how to process the evidence they had gathered when she heard Big Harv swear above the din of her own voice. Her soul shivered. Her first thought was that Brice had been found and it wasn’t pretty.

She sent the teams back to the lab and hurried over to Big Harv.

“I heard you swear. What happened?”

Big Harv shook his head. “Your boy,
Steve Jansen, lawyered up so we won’t be getting anything from him. He also threw in a complaint saying you and Sanchez brutalized him.”

“Damn it,” she replied, not showing the relief she felt that Brice hadn’t been found dead.

“Don’t worry about the brutality charge; we’ll get that handled.”

She exhaled. “I wasn’t. I was just hoping to talk to him again.”

“Yeah, kiss that goodbye. Besides, don’t you have enough on video to put him at Oscar’s murder scene?”

“We do, but he could tell us more. Like who is the other man in the video. But that may not be a problem in a few hours.”

Her Dad frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Remember I told you he was working on something else when I asked him to do the fingerprint analysis? Well, I’ve asked one of the FT teams to search his office and personal locker to look for the missing evidence bags. Those bags had to be close if he was using our equipment to do what he was doing.”

“That’s a good guess. I hope that pans out. God knows, we’ve got enough other shit to try and wrap up. And speaking of that . . . where in hell is that FBI team? I need what they have,” said Big Harv.

Ellen sighed. “Me too. I haven’t seen the Feds, but I’ve not been looking either. However, the information they’re providing isn’t all we should be looking for. I’m looking for something else.”

“And what would that be?” Ellen and Big Harv turned to see Lelani Olsen, the FBI’s profiler, and three other special agents approaching, including Agent in Charge Milchman.

“About damn time you got here,” said Big Harv.

“We came as soon as we got your message. We were working on another situation in St. Louis, so we were delayed,” Lelani answered, keeping her voice even. “At any rate, can you answer the question, FT Harper?”

“Yes. Like the captain said, we’ve got a lot going on here, and I’m not leaving until we’ve exhausted what I can do. But no matter how much I try to stay on task here, one thing keeps running through my mind . . . it doesn’t make sense with Oscar’s shooting.”

“Do you mean the tearing apart of his chest and throat?” asked Lelani, tilting her thin chin.

Ellen frowned. “You’ve got a way with words, agent. But yes, I do. It makes no sense. I recall one of my first thoughts when seeing Oscar like that was that someone was digging, or some damn thing, looking for something more than some morbid display of mutilation.”

The profiler raised her pencil-thin eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Say Oscar found something at the scene and didn’t want to put it in with the other evidence. We do that from time to time to make sure it’s processed in a certain way. Like I did
with the cell phones.”

“Wouldn’t he have said something to you?” asked Big Harv.

By then, Sanchez had joined them, standing at Ellen’s elbow.

“Yes, usually, but he was tired and maybe he just plain forgot
that he had the key until he just before was killed. It happens. I’ve done it. So when he got stopped, and figured out what was going on, he did something with it.”

“Like what?” asked Lelani.

Ellen shrugged. “I’m not sure, but the evidence says he may have swallowed it.”

“That’s pretty out there, don’t you think?” asked Lelani, arms crossed.

“Maybe. But I can’t think of any other reason for what happened to his upper body, can you? I’m no profiler, but that doesn’t seem like something Steve would have done for the hell of it,” said Ellen.

“You’re right, you’re not a profiler,” she answered.

Ellen felt Miss Pissy start to boil, and stifled it. She gave the agent a quick half smile, staying calm.

“I just said that. But I’ve got more time with Jansen than you, and that’s my take on it. Not to mention, Jansen probably had less than a minute to do what he did, so there’s a chance he didn’t find what he was looking for. Anyway
, I sent a special crew back to the lab to look through Jansen’s office, locker, hell, his car, and whatever else they can access, to see if we can find anything he may have hidden. I also want another look at Oscar’s autopsy file and anything else that was gathered at the crime scene. We’re looking at everything closer. If something doesn’t fit, my teams are going to find out why.”

Agent Milchman nodded.

“I hope that works out, but it seems to me you’re chasing your tail. That’s your call.”

He turned to Big Harv. “You’ve searched all of the buildings more than once, I’m guessing, so it doesn’t look like you need our help. Is there something else we can do?”

“Not in terms of manpower. What about those reports involving DNA and fingerprints?” answered Big Harv.

“It’ll be another couple of hours. We got the information later than we expected. I guess Jansen didn’t want us to have that either.”

“He was probably covering his own ass on that one. I also had Detective Sanchez forward the video footage to your lab to see if they can enhance the facial recognition we’d already gone through. Your software is better so we’re anxious to hear what you come up with,” said Ellen.

Milchman nodded again. “Will do.”

“How about a preliminary profile?” asked Sanchez.

Lelani hesitated then shifted her feet. “This one is tough. Definitely white male, I’d say between thirty and forty. I think he’s very bright and makes real money. He is good-looking and charming because he’s managed to sweep four women, at least, off their feet and get them away from their normal routines. Not to mention, he was able to persuade your man Jansen to become involved somehow. That being said, he may have been able to recruit help elsewhere. I’m not saying he has, but he certainly has the ability.”

Exhaling, she focused on Ellen. “I’d say he’s fairly athletic and probably tall. Women are drawn to men that are taller, and I think he’d need to have some physical strength to do what he’s done, especially if he were able to throttle a man in great shape like Detective Rogers. He may even have been a successful athlete. He’s driven not by a compulsion so much as a purpose, I’d guess, because of the delay in the killings. It’s almost as if he’s after something. Also, I’d say he’s killed before. Most first-time killers are sloppy and miss a detail; he doesn’t appear to have done that. We’ve got folks going over the National Incident Based Reporting System to see if there are unsolved murders with at least some of these characteristics and injuries. That’s all I really have so far, and remember, this is just a best guess.”

“Good guess, if you ask me,” said Sanchez.

The following silence seemed right to Ellen. Big Harv was already doing all he could, and the FBI, at this point, was doing what it could. Big Harv seemed to be reading her mind and waved at the agents.

“How about we call you if we think of anything else? We’re sending people home because there’s nothing here. We’ve got a few teams of two going house to house in a three-mile radius. It’ll take all night, but we’ve got to try. Rogers is a good cop, not to mention Carmen and Dupree are still unaccounted for. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“The harder you work the luckier you become?” asked Milchman.

“Something like that,” answered Big Harv.

“All right. You’ve got my number so call me if you need something else. We’re headed back to St. Louis. As awful as this situation is, missing kids go to the top of our priority list,” said Milchman.

Watching as they moved away, Ellen turned to Sanchez, but before she could ask her how far the canvassing had gone, she felt a tug on her sleeve. Lelani Olsen had returned.

“What is it?” asked Ellen.

“Just one more thing on this profile. I always hesitate to go here because people handle family differently, but I’d say this guy has a mother issue of some type.”

“Why would you say that?” asked Ellen. Then it hit her. “You mean the ‘Not Her’ notes have to do with his mother?”

“Good thinking, Harper. I’m saying maybe. Sometimes these people act out on others before they build up the nerve to proceed on the true object of their psychosis. This might be one of those cases. They also have a tendency to start young, like in their teens.”

The profiler walked away, got into the Fed’s SUV, and left.

“Okay, that might be something that can help,” said Ellen. “We need to check it out, Dad.”

“You’re right,” said Big Harv. “Sanchez, I want you to go back to headquarters and have Records see what they can find on violent cases involving juveniles that might fit this situation.”

“With all due respect, sir, have Dillon do it. My partner’s missing, and I’m not sitting behind no damn desk waiting for someone else to find him, sir,” said Sanchez, a tinge of defiance in her voice.

Big Harv nodded.

“I’d want the same, Sanchez. I’ll tell Dillon. Now get your ass out there. We’ve got a lot of houses and buildings to cover.”

Sanchez trotted toward a circle of blues, collared two of them, and headed north toward a couple of high-rises about a half a mile away. Ellen was glad she wasn’t on that detail. Sanchez wasn’t going to leave anything unturned. Who knew for sure? Maybe she would find a lead.

Big Harv stepped over to a different group of uniforms and began to bark out more instructions. She found herself alone with her thoughts.

Turning back to the building as it glowed from the early evening sun, Ellen crossed her arms and focused on another situation that had been running through her mind. Even after she, Big Harv, Dillon, and Sanchez had discussed it with no real conclusion, she was still wrestling for answers.

Why here? Why was Joannie Carmen found here? And why was Brice alone when it happened? Chance? Maybe. Sometimes timing
is
everything.

Opportunity? Joannie saw her chance and took it? But if that were true, how did she break free? The FBI agreed that this unsub wasn’t sloppy. Did he let her go with the hope of taking Brice as well? That meant he’d have to have a way of watching what was going on, and that didn’t seem likely, particularly after Chicago PD had gone through these buildings three complete times.