Page 19

19

In the morning, Hagen felt for Slade as his boss rested his fingertips on the meeting room table. A weariness hung on his face and dragged his chin toward his chest.

Each new victim seemed to add to a weight on his back.

Hagen had never seen himself leading a team of FBI agents. He’d always assumed that once he’d dealt with Ramirez, he’d be arrested. Or killed as he fled the scene, if not by the police, then by one of the men who killed his father. The best he could expect would be to fade away, disappear with a new identity.

Now he had a future. Ever since Ramirez’s death, he could imagine a life filled with promotion and advancement. A career. He hadn’t thought about it in detail. But, during their sabbatical in Pennsylvania, the first notions started popping up in his head.

The sight of Slade each morning as the body count rose hadn’t killed the shoots of that new idea. But it did show him the cost.

Slade’s weary eyes landed on him. “Hagen. Fill us in. How does the second victim compare to the victims you found in Pennsylvania?”

Hagen took a deep breath. “Put simply, this victim appears to have been killed in almost exactly the same way as the victims in Claymore. The similarities are clear enough. Deep slash across the throat. Massive loss of blood. The cuneiform writing on the wall. Stella sent pictures last night to the cuneiform expert we used on the last case and to a forensic document examiner.”

“The main difference in terms of the writing itself,” Stella elaborated, “is that the marks in Otto Walker’s apartment were on the wall, painted by what appears to be a paintbrush, and not carved on his back like the victims in Pennsylvania.”

“Thank heaven for small favors.” Anja shuddered with a delicate shiver.

“That said, we did find writing on the wall at one of the victims in Claymore Township.”

“The sheriff, right?” Slade had apparently pored through the Claymore Township reports.

Stella nodded. “But the difference in how Otto Walker and Patrick Marrion were killed is remarkable. Marrion was bled by a small, precise cut to the carotid artery, not a slash to the throat. There was no writing located near him…except for the possible attempt to scratch into his back. But we’re not certain about that.”

“Considering all the evidence we have supporting Walker killing Marrion, it makes sense. Walker wouldn’t give his own carotid a neat little cut, would he?” Sarcasm didn’t really suit Slade. The SSA rubbed the scar above his temple and changed angles. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard back from either of your experts yet, have you?”

“I heard back from the forensic document examiner. The marks in Otto Walker’s apartment were created by different hands than the victims in Claymore Township. Which stands to reason, considering Maureen King, who made the markings in Claymore, is deceased.”

“Great. We have a lot of dead murderers. Not much use at all.”

Ander rocked back in his chair. “You said Patrick Marrion had no writing at all anywhere near him. I don’t think we should dismiss the scratches across his burns. Those abrasions might’ve been a writing attempt that failed.”

Slade glared at Ander’s rocked-back chair. Ander set the front legs back on the floor.

“Wouldn’t the unsub have written on the alley wall if they couldn’t cut their message into Marrion’s back?” Stacy waved a finger, as though the alley stretched out in front of her, and she only needed to point at the brickwork.

Stella shook her head. “Not necessarily. The alley was where the body was found. Not where he was killed.”

“So Patrick Marrion was the only victim not left at the place he was murdered?” Eagerness swept over Anja’s face, as if she needed the details.

Stacy tapped her pen on the table. “Yes. And we know that. So maybe, after struggling with the victim’s scar tissue, the unsub wrote his message at the murder scene instead. Like Maureen King did in the shed when she killed her husband. And that message is still out there somewhere.”

Stella tugged at the golden stud in her ear. “Right. Stacy and I speculated that our perpetrator left Marrion out in public as a message. What if our guy was trying to get our attention?”

“Otto Walker probably killed Marrion.” Next to Hagen, Ander circled the word funeral in his notebook. “What kind of attention would he want?”

“Well, Walker had the ideal kill location, didn’t he?” Stacy straightened in her chair. “If he killed Marrion at the funeral home, it’s not like he could leave Marrion’s corpse there. So he’d have to dump him. We should go there and see if there’s security footage.”

“I think we need to remember that someone killed Walker. And the most likely option when we consider that angle is an accomplice covering their tracks.” Stella released the stud in a gesture of frustration. “Or some combination of both.”

The room went silent while the agents contemplated their options.

Slade lifted his chin. His face was flushed. “Looks like we’ve got some angles to investigate. But I think it’s clear with the cuneiform marks in the Walker case that there’s a connection with Pennsylvania.”

Hagen’s frustration rose. “No. It can’t be the same killer. Maureen King is dead. We saw her die. And Douglas King, the sheriff, her husband and accomplice, was murdered as well. There can’t be a killer from Pennsylvania.”

Stella lowered her hand slowly from her ear. Hagen’s heart sank. She’d thought of something. And he wasn’t going to like it.

Slade had seen it too. “What’s on your mind, Stella?”

She blinked and hesitated before she spoke. “Maureen King certainly killed Laurence Gill. But we could’ve been wrong about Sheriff King’s involvement.”

“How?” All Hagen’s attention focused on Stella.

“Do you remember the sheriff’s reaction at the sight of Deputy Mark Tully’s body? We were with him. He was devastated. And do you remember how shocked we were when we realized he was helping Maureen? When he shot at us? We couldn’t believe it. Maybe we were right not to.”

“But…he shot at us.”

“Maybe he was just trying to protect his wife. Maybe he hadn’t known she’d killed Tully. I’m certain he didn’t expect her to kill him. And she did kill him. Her own husband. Would she have done that if he were her accomplice?”

Hagen thought about the awful situation for a moment. Maureen had murdered her victims in a strange attempt to save them. She was one of the only killers he’d ever met who murdered people she liked. “She might have done it to save him. Maureen King was not in her right head.”

Stella frowned. “But I don’t think that changes the equation when you consider her first murders. We know Maureen King had an accomplice for those. There were two sets of boots at the crime scenes. But there’s another reason.”

“What do you mean?”

Stella dropped back into her chair. Her gaze fell on Hagen, and in that look, she seemed to deliver an apology.

“Maureen wasn’t good at tying knots. I saw her in the kitchen trying to tie herbs and failing. But the victims were tied from trees. She must’ve had help stringing up the bodies.” She sighed. “If her accomplice wasn’t the sheriff, then there very well could be a murderer running free. And they could be here to send us a message.”

Hagen took a deep breath. Anger rose in his chest. It’d been a while since he’d felt that old familiar sensation. He wasn’t mad at Stella. He was angry that they’d left their work unfinished. They’d left a murderer free, and now, the killer had followed them. If they’d done their job properly?—

Slade broke his thought. “Did you collect DNA from the scenes in Pennsylvania?”

Stella nodded. “We did, but the evidence was pretty contaminated because of the snowstorm and our lack of access to forensic resources. We didn’t have anything by the time we left, and I doubt the results will be much use when we do get them.”

“There is something though.” Hagen felt itchy, like he needed to do something. “Maureen King fell down a rabbit hole after she joined some Dispatch group prophesying the end of the world. That’s where the cuneiform comes from. We could try to get into the group. Maybe they’re still around.”

“Patrick Marrion met his ‘friend’ online. Maybe that was on Dispatch too?” Stella threw the idea out. “That was the only social app on Maureen King’s phone.”

Ander was still rocking on his chair, though he kept leveling out before Slade could catch him. If the morning’s revelations had surprised him, he didn’t show it. “Did either of you join the group?”

Hagen crossed his arms, as if physical pressure would stop the heat burning through his rib cage. “Once we cracked that case, when we thought we’d cracked it, we didn’t think we needed to join. Mac, can you get us in?”

Mac was sitting at the end of the table. She spun her phone gently between her fingers.

“Unlikely. Even if we could identify the group, it would take ages to get cooperation from the Dispatch administrators. You’d need to wrangle an invitation.”

“I’ll handle that.” Anja raised her hand. “Should be a good place to find sources.”

Slade rubbed his hands together. “Okay, we’ve got two victims to investigate, and that’s on top of the three you found on your little break. I do not want more. Let’s find the link between the victims. What connects them, if anything, besides a killer?” He nodded at Hagen. “I want you and Ander to focus on Otto Walker. Check his workplace. Go visit that church he volunteered at in Idlebrook. Stella?—”

Stella’s phone pinged. She lifted the device and touched the screen. “Sorry, it’s Guy Lacross, that cuneiform expert. He says…” She paused and read, her thumb sliding along the glass. “The writing on the wall says, ‘only blood will redeem the world and redemption is coming soon.’”

Hagen was ready to leave. He’d heard that before, though he’d hoped he’d never have to hear it again. “Sounds familiar.”

“We’d better get moving.” Slade pointed at Stella. “You and Stacy dig into Patrick Marrion. Mac sent me a report stating that trippinballz12 has placed a laptop on Craigslist. Might be Marrion’s.”

Stella nodded. “I’ll get with Mac and set up a meeting time with him. We can pretend we’re buyers.”

“Why don’t you just beat his door down?” Ander stopped rocking on his chair. “We could probably get a warrant.”

Slade rose from his seat. “We’ll get a warrant anyway. But going in with a buyer ruse will keep Mr. Trippinballz from getting skittish and throwing the laptop in a lake or something. We need to know the identity of the new friend in town that Patrick Marrion was visiting, and our best bet is a computer or his phone.”