Kate looked around the house and smiled. “This place has been good for me, but I guess there isn’t much point in staying, unless Mrs. Mitchell wanted to sell, but I doubt that. It’s a good income for her; she owns it outright.”
Mike knocked back a sizable swig of beer from the half-empty bottle. “I guess what I’m getting at is I’d like to know how I fit into the equation. I know it’s only been what, five or six months? But I think you know how I feel about you. I think you feel the same.”
“Yes, I feel the same.” It was no longer a question of money for Kate. Her permanent salary would be substantially more than her probationary one and she still had Marshall’s stash, although she’d still considered buying a new car with that. Either way, it wouldn’t be as much of a financial burden on her anymore. She was free to go in whatever direction she chose. “I don’t want you to leave your job for me, Mike. I guess that’s what it really boils down to. And, I’m going to be in this field office for the foreseeable future. Are you prepared to leave behind the life you’ve built? The career you’ve built? To come here and start over?”
“Kate, I’m a small-town cop. I’m not going to make sheriff because the sheriff isn’t going anywhere—ever. I’m thirty-four, I have no kids.” He captured her gaze at these words. “Changing isn’t a problem for me. I don’t look at it as giving up anything. I look at it as gaining you—gaining a life with you.” He raised his fork again. “Besides, I could get a job with Metro Police. I may have already made a call or two.”
She tried to conceal her mild surprise. They had talked about this and so of course he would look into such things, but this caught her unawares. Kate really had no idea what she wanted or what she wanted from him. Her conflict came not from a lack of feelings for him, but from a fear of losing someone she loved again. It was capricious at best and irrational at worst. Nevertheless, that was how she felt. She simply couldn’t answer him, which spoke volumes.
“You know what, forget what I said.” Mike began to walk back his words. “You’re involved in a case right now and this isn’t the time. I get that. These aren’t decisions that can be made on the fly or in the afterglow of lovemaking. These are serious considerations for both of us and I’ll leave it at that for now.”
She sensed his frustration but didn’t want to pursue the conversation any further. “So, you all packed and ready to go? Looks like we’ll need to head out in twenty minutes or so.”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” he replied.
TWELVE
T
he blood ran
from his hands beneath the running water and into the sink, creating a crimson veined pool that slowly drained away. He gazed into the mirror and a pale face glistening with sweat and blood spatters stared back at him. His chest still heaved from both the thrill and the physical exertion, leaving him with a euphoria that would carry him through the grueling tasks ahead.
The death of Lyle’s grandmother was to be expected, however, he hadn’t wanted it to be so soon. He knew the moment he arrived at her home that it would mean her life. But she was the only relative he knew they wouldn’t find. His father’s mother, she had been abandoned by her husband while he remarried another who helped raise his father. Stroud had spent time with her over the summers while he was growing up but hadn’t seen her in more than ten years.
He had loved her, or what he recalled love once felt like. But the years of prison had turned him into something less than a man who developed a cold detachment from all things human. There was no denying his chosen path in life would culminate into such a transformation. After all, he was in prison for a reason, but in those early years, he hadn’t the stomach to commit the acts that came so easily for him today. In those early years, his true desires had yet to fully surface. It had initially been a game of revenge that had grown into a craving; a desire to fulfill a goal concocted by his twisted fantasies that had been nurtured behind bars.
And Stroud knew how to game the system as well. His parole hinged upon successful counseling and good behavior, both of which were easily mastered and manipulated. And the counseling failed spectacularly in its attempt to squelch the fantasies that played in his mind at the mere sight of children. They didn’t know just how drawn to them he was and had no idea who they’d unleashed upon an unsuspecting public. Blame for his distorted views could perhaps fall on the shoulders of the boys who’d once bullied him in school. Perhaps bullying wasn’t the right word. Raped was the right word. And he fantasized about controlling the children as he had once been controlled by those boys. But he was otherwise not abused as a child; physically, sexually, or emotionally by any relative. And certainly not by the grandmother he’d just murdered.
As a young adult, Stroud initiated his game of revenge. He’d sought and achieved retribution on those boys and that should have been enough to stem the growth of what had now become his obsession, but it hadn’t. He’d gotten away with it and that brought with it a thrill all its own. The second time, though, he wasn’t so lucky. A random kid he’d seen in his neighborhood. A young preteen girl who’d managed to pry away from him before he could do any real damage and she told her parents. Stroud went to prison for that attack.
For whatever reason, a gene defect? He didn’t know, but he and his sister seemed to deviate onto paths that society would deem repulsive and cast them away to rot inside the cracks into which they’d fallen. That combined with years exposed to a prison society that further dehumanized all contained within, the transformation into the man reflecting back at him now wasn’t as much of a leap as one might expect.
Stroud turned off the water and grabbed the hand towel that hung on the wall only inches from him in this tiny bathroom upstairs from where the real mess still needed to be cleaned. The idea had crossed his mind that outsiders, passersby, might have heard the commotion, but the basement in this old house, which was comprised of well-insulating brick and concrete, made that a less-likely scenario. Still, he couldn’t risk anything and was in a very vulnerable position right now. The girl had been easy to dispose of, but now he had two bodies and the kid was almost as tall as he was; slight but troublesome just the same.
He stepped outside where the murky sky with its scattered stars barely illuminated the quiet, rural community. The neighbors were few and far between, even better, but Stroud continued outside, stepping off the wooden porch and was now exposed. He looked left, then right; no one could be seen. His days here would be numbered, however, because Grandma played Bunko with a few other blue-hairs every Saturday night and when they came ringing the doorbell, he’d better be half-way to Timbuctoo.
The truck was in front of his grandma’s car beneath the carport in an attempt to keep it hidden from the road. It was far too risky to continue to drive it any longer. He’d seen the Amber Alert and stayed off the roads as much as possible, but he would have to leave again and that meant ridding himself of the old truck he prized. The question still rose in his mind. How did they know it was him? How could they have identified him only days after he’d taken the boy? Something had to have been left behind; he had to have been careless and now they knew who they were after. It was a costly mistake in any event, but now he questioned whether or not those smart-ass cops found what he kept in his house. Because if they did, it would destroy everything he’d worked for up to this point.
The hour had already grown late and he would not leave tonight. Stroud went back inside to get the keys to Grandma’s car. Her 2003 Olds Cutlass was about to be his newest mode of transportation. It was a wonder she still drove, but she had been a tough old woman. He cast his gaze down for a split second while a brief flash of sympathy passed through him. She was his family, after all, but the feeling didn’t last long.
Inside the house once again, he stood at the door of the basement and looked down the stairs. What was the point in cleaning up the mess? Hiding the bodies? The cops knew who he was and were looking for the kid. Wouldn’t take much to put two and two together, even for those fuckheads. But he knew his luck would run very thin after this little discovery.
He’d seen the cops on TV talking about the kid. The parents pleading for his return. Now that the kid was dead, Lyle Stroud was about to be the most wanted man in the state, and so he could do one of two things.
Pouring a glass of water from the pitcher that still sat on the dinner table, he considered his options. Stay and most definitely be captured. Or do what all his prison buddies talked about doing; go out in a blaze of glory. Was it his style? Not really, but he didn’t like the idea of putting his hands up in surrender either. He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a slip of paper. A pen was nearby and Stroud began scratching on the paper, crossing off the second name on his list. First the girl, Emily Aldrich, and now the boy, Colton Talbot. He scanned the names to see who was next. He called this his “endangered species” list.
He’d already passed the point of no return and going back to prison would be easier. Then again, he’d suffered at the hands of the inmates who took it upon themselves to dole out justice for child molesters. Now Stroud was a child-killer. His time in prison would be short-lived and that didn’t mean on Death Row either.
He studied his list again. It had been carefully cultivated after months of online searches. Looking for those who flaunted their privileged lives. Kids who thought they were better than everyone else, just like those boys in the ninth grade had done. Team captains, winners of all the popularity contests, rich parents. This was his ultimate game of revenge. A goal to rid the world of selfie-taking little shits who had no idea what hard life was really like. Stroud hated and coveted them, and wanted to fill them with pain that
he
would dole out. Sexual desire played a minimal role. It was how it made him feel afterward that was better than any orgasm.
“I keep going.” He set the glass down after gulping so much water that his stomach began to hurt. Dying was an almost certainty, so why go out like a prison bitch? Stroud would finish what he started.
» » »
Kate sat in Nick’s office, waiting for the briefing to begin, not that she expected much, if any, fresh news. Another day had passed and still no truck matching their suspect’s. She believed, after the last motel, that they were too close not to find him, but it had become clear Stroud was in hiding. He had to have seen the news stories and figured the entire damn state was looking for him. The team’s initial fiery hopes of finding Colton alive had dwindled to a mere ember that had nearly extinguished.
The reason for the meeting? She believed Nick was about to suggest they head back to Winchester to search Stroud’s place. Mason’s team had already done it, but Nick knew Kate had something special. Something that made it possible for her to find clues others had missed. It didn’t always work out that way, but most of the time, it did. She’d grown to accept it as divine intervention, of sorts, and never dismissed the possibility that she had an angel on her shoulder pushing her in the right direction. She would never admit this out loud, but Nick had seen it first-hand on more than one occasion. Why he’d been dismissive of her lately remained largely a mystery to her, because this was something he should have authorized the moment they took the lead. Instead, he’d been relying on information from Fairfax County Police. They were doing their job, but he’d failed to utilize his team, meaning her, in the appropriate manner.
“Good morning.” Dwight entered and took a seat next to Kate. “You manage to get Mike to the airport all right?”
“It was a late flight, but he made it back home.”
Dwight studied her for a moment. “You two still getting along?”
“Of course, yeah.” She shifted in her seat. “I just have some decisions to make and I’m not sure I’m ready to make them.”
“I see.” Dwight looked as though he was about to ask another probing, personal question, when Nick walked in.
He dropped a file on his desk. “This is the report from the search Fairfax County conducted on Stroud’s residence after his identity was revealed.” Nick pulled the report from the file and spread it out on his desk. “I’d like you two to take a look. They still have forensics looking into his computer, but apparently, whatever he kept, he kept on cloud servers and not his hard drive. All we have is the picture of Emily Aldrich from his locker. But if he kept a picture of her, it means he was probably stalking her beforehand. If that’s the case, then he kept a picture of Colton Talbot somewhere and probably followed him too.”
“Did he have a connection to her at all? Family friend? Anything like that?” Dwight asked.
“None that they’ve found. She lived miles from his home, so I don’t know how he found her or why. That’s what we need to find out. And, there may be something left behind at his home. We can’t afford to overlook anything right now. I’m not sure how much time Colton has.”
“What would make him revert back to his old behavior? It had been a year since he got out.” Kate held the picture of Emily in her hand. “Wasn’t he required to attend counseling as a condition of parole? Wouldn’t his counselor have seen this change?”
“It was group counseling, and according to his parole officer, Stroud was highly cunning. A sociopath with manipulative skills that were above par. Unfortunately, the parole officer learned this too late,” Nick replied. “He could easily have hidden his desires as a result. That may be how he survived prison, considering his crimes and how the hierarchy of prison dictates child abusers to be the lowest of the low.”
“So he was granted parole based on lies and manipulation,” Kate said.
“And that he’d served his sentence and was a model prisoner,” Dwight continued.
“Right. Then he’d be required to continue with counseling as a condition of release, and he’s a registered sex offender and ex-con at this point. So how and when does he begin to rediscover his desires?”
“I don’t think they ever went away, Kate,” Nick said. “I think he’s been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make his move, or he simply saw an opportunity and was drawn to this girl.”
“That doesn’t explain why he went after Colton Talbot, some eighty miles away,” Kate said.
“No, it doesn’t. However, I suspect he realized he’d crossed the line and knew there was no going back home. I don’t know why he chose to stop in the suburbs of Fairfax County.” Nick appeared to be losing hold of his emotions but quickly reeled them in. “I’m hoping the three of us can find something in Stroud’s house. Something that might give us a clue as to what his plan is and what lies east.” Nick rose from his chair. “We’re all failing the Talbots right now.”
» » »
Detective Mason was going to meet them at Stroud’s home within the hour. Kate was glad to be along for the ride this time and hoped that Nick was returning to his old self; the man who insisted Kate was meant to be a Federal agent and practically coddled her through the process of making that happen. Although she didn’t want to dismiss her own abilities, Nick had, nonetheless, made it possible for her to be here now. With her probationary status on the line, she needed to be in the field again to prove to ASAC Campbell that she deserved to be here.
The case was getting to Nick and Kate feared his impulsivity could jeopardize the investigation. Perhaps he would go too far with his usual bending of the rules. But, if she had any say in the matter, she wouldn’t let that happen. Finding Colton was equally as important to her as it was to Nick, whether he knew that or not.
Upon their arrival, an officer stepped outside to greet them. “Detective Mason will be here soon. I just got off the horn with her.”
“Great. Thanks.” Nick scrolled through his phone without so much as a glance to the officer. “Can we go inside?”