Page 5

5

Walking across the Montwood College campus, Jack felt ill at ease. Blaise at his side appeared to be embarrassed by the attention he garnered. Giggles and winks followed them, as the girls strolling by looked at the tall, muscular blond.

Jack, glancing at his investigative partner, noticed that while Blaise smiled back, he was not encouraging the behavior.

“It’s like being back in time,” Blaise said. “Hell, I almost failed out of my first year of college due to spending more time with pussy than I did studying.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Jack commented sardonically, “That’s a shocker.”

Chuckling, Blaise continued, “Hey, I got my shit together. Started hitting the books instead of the bars and once in Vet school I had no choice but to spend all my time studying.” Looking around at the young girls, he added, “Jesus, they look young. Were we ever that young? ”

“About a thousand years ago,” Jack replied, knowing Blaise’s years being sent to shit-hole areas of the world as he worked against bioterrorism had hardened him.

Coming to the campus center, they saw two girls standing outside watching them warily. Jack, aware of his and Blaise’s size, stopped several feet away. “Sybil? Alice?”

The two girls nodded, and he introduced himself and Blaise.

“We know you have been interviewed by the police but thank you for agreeing to meet with us. Any information you can give us will help in finding your friend’s killer. Shall we go inside?” he asked, nodding toward the building behind them.

Once settled, he began with the basic questions he knew they had been asked before. Having read their police and FBI reports, he knew what they had said and wanted to see what they could add.

After gaining the preliminary information, he asked, “What was she wearing?” Seeing the girls immediately stiffen, he explained, “I’m not suggesting anything inappropriate on her part. We’re looking into any similarity between the victims, and it can be the smallest thing.”

Sybil nodded as she said, “She loved purple. She hated dressing up, but it was her birthday, and we were going to a club. So, she wore my purple top and a black skirt. She never wore heels, but she borrowed those as well.”

“She looked so pretty,” Alice added.

“What did she normally wear?” Blaise asked, noting the wistful look on the young woman’s face .

“She was always pretty,” Sybil stated defensively, looking at Alice.

“I know. I didn’t mean she wasn’t,” Alice defended. “But she normally wore longer skirts and she always had shirts that didn’t show her boobs.”

“Her parents were kind of strict,” Sybil added.

“Any special religious affiliation?”

The two girls pondered the question for a moment before Alice answered. “No, not that I can think of.”

“But,” Sybil added, “we were often hungover on Sunday mornings, so I can’t really tell you what she did. She wasn’t a drinker. Well, until the last night.” At that, her eyes teared up and Alice grabbed her hand.

“This was our fault, wasn’t it?” Sybil whispered, looking into the hard faces of the two men sitting in front of her. “We took her out. We took her to a bar. We left her alone.”

“Girls,” Jack’s voice softened. “The fault lies with the person who took her life. That’s where the blame lies. Squarely on their shoulders…not yours.”

“Tell us more about the man that was buying her drinks,” Blaise prodded, following Jack’s lead of having them focus on the killer.

Sucking in a huge breath, Alice said, “He was blond.” Looking up at Blaise’s hair, she added, “Not as blond as you. Kind of a sandy blond color.”

“And he had a mustache,” Sybil added.

“Did the hair and mustache seem the same? Were there any inconsistencies?”

Perplexed, both girls just stared, so Blaise continued. “Did the color look the same? Did the hair color match his face or did it appear dyed? Were the roots the same color as the rest of the hair? Was there white or gray mixed into the blond? Did he have wrinkles that seemed out of place with the blond hair?”

Sybil’s face scrunched expressively as she thought about her answer. Alice’s eyes glanced to the side in reflection. She was the first to speak.

“I admit that by the end, we were fairly drunk, but when he first came over…”

“Yes, go on,” prodded Jack.

“There was no gray nor the different colors you usually see in hair.”

“Different colors?”

Alice reached over to Sybil’s light brown hair and held a handful out to the men. “See. Look closely. There’s brown, a little red, and even some blonde.” The men eyed the strands with interest. “Most natural hair is like that,” she added. At the men’s silent question, she explained, “My mom’s a hair stylist. I grew up knowing about hair and coloring.”

Offering an appreciative glance, Blaise nodded for her to continue. “His hair was just all the same from root to tip. His mustache was exactly the same as well. I assume that it was freshly dyed.”

“Could he have been wearing a wig?”

Slowly Alice nodded. “Yeah. Now that I think back, it could have been. I just didn’t think of it at the time.”

“He was older,” Sybil added. The men’s attention jerked over to her as she continued. “When he laughed, he had little crinkles at his eyes.”

Alice looked at her friend. “Everyone’s eyes crinkle when they laugh. See?” she said while smiling large, showing the lines around her eyes.

“Yes, but when you’re young, they come right out when you stop smiling,” Sybil noted as she pointed to Alice’s face, no longer smiling. Gazing back at the men in front of her, she said, “When he was leaning over Tonya one time, I noticed the wrinkles around his eyes did not go away.”

Both girls appeared perplexed, and Sybil said, “Why didn’t we think of these things right away? Why are we just noticing them now?”

Jack answered smoothly, “Most witnesses are upset, traumatized. The mind can blank out little details that later are able to be brought to the surface.”

After continuing their questions for a while longer, they stood, thanking the girls for their cooperation. Jack handed them a business card, saying, “If you think of anything else, here is the email where you can reach me.”

Alice took the card from his proffered hand, glancing down at the simplistic design. A saint’s symbol, along with an email address, were the only items on the card.

The two women started to walk away when Alice turned back. Lifting her gaze to Jack’s, she held it courageously. “You will find him, won’t you?” she pleaded.

Nodding, he promised, “Yeah. We’ll get him.”

With his confident assurance, Alice linked her arm through Sybil’s and the two walked out of the campus center .

Blaise looked at his friend and boss, asking, “You reckon we can keep that promise?”

Jack speared him with a glance. “Yeah. This fucker’s hiding and he’ll strike again, but we’ll get him.”

With the interview complete, the two drove back to the company compound outside of Charlestown to meet with the others.

The next morning, the eight-member team of Saints met in the basement conference room to debrief. While Jack and Blaise had been at Montwood College, Bart and Marcus had gone to Rasland College to interview the friends and possible witnesses of Helena Rorton. Chad and Cam had also been on the road, driving to Richmond Community College to investigate Sheila Carlson’s murder.

Luke had stayed behind, continuing to research the similarities as the team sent in their information. Monty had been busy with his contacts with the FBI. Monty reported, “Shirley Kerstig, an FBI profiler, will join us by secure conference later.” Luke had arranged for the team to have video conferencing with others, but only the group would be able to see the person speaking to them. The Saints Protection she also said the man was not college age. Sheila worked as a waitress in a coffee shop near the campus and so she was in contact with a great many people. No one could determine if there had been anyone in particular and the coffee shop has numerous repeat customers so there’s a possible dead end there.”

“Helena came from wealthy parents. She could have gone anywhere on daddy’s money but chose a state college to follow a high school boyfriend. He flunked out, but she stayed and was doing well,” Bart reported.

Chad added, “Sheila was from a poor background; deadbeat dad and a mom working two jobs. She’d worked in high school and continued while in college. I see Tonya’s parents are typical middle-class America.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Cam added, “One’s blonde, another’s redhead, and another’s brunette. They were different ages, different body types, different backgrounds. Where’s the connection?”

Jack turned to Luke, watching as his fingers flew across the keyboard of his computer. “You got anything for us?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a glare at Jack. “You know this shit doesn’t just pop up like on TV. It takes time to get hits off all this data.”

“What are we looking at?” Jack asked.

“Okay, I’ve loaded the bank records, school information which,” he looked up at them and added, “goes all the way back to pre-school. Doctor’s info, right down to when they got their shots and braces.”

Cam could not hold back a slight grin, knowing that as quiet as Luke was, when he got going on an investigation, he was meticulous in detail. A glance around the table exposed the same expressions on the others’ faces.

Luke continued, “I’ve loaded in the descriptions of their bodies, habits, classes, jobs, majors, activities…” He paused, perusing his co-workers’ faces. “If you’ve given the data to me or I’ve read it in the police files, it’s in here. And it’s not going to pop out an answer in case you’re wondering.”

Blaise could not hold in his chuckle anymore. Luke was a data-mining genius, but testy when pushed.

“What about the cold cases of missing girls?” Bart asked.

Luke smiled, answering, “Already on it. I’m entering what information I’ve received, but that will take more time.”

“How many are we talking about?” Marc asked.

“Hard to say,” Jack answered. “On a college campus, you can have students drop out, go missing, go back home, or hell, just move to Montana if they want. The campus does not keep records on all the students that just leave. But we do have the missing persons from the police. There are six women in the past five years that were attending college, went missing and their families filed missing person’s reports.”

“All from Virginia colleges?” Cam asked.

Jack nodded, glancing over at Luke still banging away on his keyboard. “You got their info?”

Luke jerked his eyes over to Jack, acknowledging, “Yeah. I’m on it.”

Just then, Monty’s laptop sounded, and he quickly signaled for everyone to be silent. Connecting to his secure conference line, he spoke into the screen. “Ms. Kerstig? Glad you could join us.” With a few taps, he projected her image on the wall screen but while the team could see her, she was unable to see any of them.

A middle-aged woman, short dark hair stylishly coiffed, sat at a table wearing the typical FBI uniform of bland, navy blazer and light blue blouse. She smiled from the screen, greeting, “Damn, Monty. Wish I could see your ugly face again.”

The others laughed as Monty said, “Well, Shirley, it’s good to see your sense of humor hasn’t changed.”

After quick introductions, she began. “I won’t bore you with the details of the case since I’m sure you all are as thorough as Monty was when he was with the agency. And of course, my report is in there as well. With the additional information about the possible missing girls, I haven’t changed my initial impressions, but Monty asked if I would give them to you here.”

“We appreciate any assistance you can offer, Ms. Kerstig,” Jack acknowledged, respecting the agent’s efficiency.

“First, let me debunk a few myths concerning serial killers. First of all, contrary to popular belief, not all serial killers are loners. Some are…others are not. They are also not all white males. They are not only motivated by sex, although they can be. There is also a myth that they travel the highways and kill all over the country. Actually, most operate in a localized comfort zone.”

“Comfort zone?” Cam interrupted.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “There are transient individuals who kill in a much wider range, but some kill within a certain area. And contrary to the Hollywood version of serial killers, they are not insane or evil geniuses. They test from borderline to above average in intelligence.”

“What you’re saying is there’s no one profile of a serial killer,” Bart clarified, heaving a sigh.

“Exactly. Now here is what we do know,” she stated. “Serial killers gain confidence and while they do not want to get caught, they begin to make mistakes. They start feeling as though they will never be identified, and they will take shortcuts in either the actual murder or in disposing of the bodies.”

“With the increase in our ability to investigate and forensic developments, why is it still so hard to identify them?” Luke asked.

“In the case of these killings, they took place in Virginia but in different locations. Different law enforcement agencies were investigating, collecting evidence, sending evidence to different labs. It wasn’t until Helena’s murder with the similarities that the FBI became involved. Then with Tonya’s murder being linked, it was determined to be the act of a serial killer.”

Bart asked, “Three is significant?”

“Yes, it takes three murders that have common characteristics to suggest the reasonable possibility the same person committed the crimes to be considered a serial murder.”

“Anything specific you can give us?” Jack prodded, his frustration showing.

Shirley smiled indulgently, hearing the irritation in his voice even though she could not see him. “Profiling is an inexact science. But yes, this is what I can surmise. The three girls whose bodies were found were sexually assaulted so that does give us a clue into the killer’s motivation. While it does not mean he was motivated by sex, it does indicate a high probability he was not motivated by money or just a thrill. He could be sexually impotent or sexually angry. But not necessarily. Because the three girls were mutilated with what appears to be the same knife, it’s as though he is trying to mark them, or change them, if you will.”

“Change them?” Monty asked.

“Yes. Some serial killers hate something about their victims and in mutilating them, they see the act as erasing whatever is bothering them.”

“That could be a tie-in—something all three have in common that is upsetting to the killer?” Jack surmised.

Shirley nodded her acquiescence. “Absolutely. And it’s not usually something simple like body type, although it could be. With the viciousness in which he violates the bodies, I would also surmise that not only is the killer sexually motivated, but anger is also a motivation. Perhaps there was neglect or abuse in their childhood. Considering we have at least one witness identifying a possible suspect in the bar chatting up Tonya, I would even consider psychopathy as a very probable diagnosis. This is using charm, manipulation, and then violence to satisfy their needs.”

“Goddamn,” Marc cursed before quickly apologizing.

“No need to apologize on my account,” Shirley stated. “In closing, gentlemen, I would say we are looking for a male, thirty to fifty years old, who may have poor behavior control, early childhood behavioral problems, possible juvenile delinquency, and exhibits a complete lack of remorse concerning their actions.”

Shirley was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Mr. Bryant, I don’t know much about your organization, but I do know Monty. He was one of our best, but I know the Bureau’s sometimes cumbersome hierarchy was the tipping point that finally made him leave and join your company. It’s my understanding that you…um…fly under the regulation radar…if that is a good way of putting it?”

Jack chuckled. “That would be a perfectly good description.”

She nodded. “Please don’t be offended by this. You have a great deal of latitude in your investigations, which will make it easier for you to ascertain information. But the special information also gives you greater responsibility. The killer will strike again and while the Bureau is placing the highest priority on this case, we know he may kill again before we can catch him. Make sure whatever you find is shared. None of us wants the killer to get away due to faulty information gathering.”

“Understood, Ms. Kerstig,” he agreed.

The conference continued on for several more minutes before they ended the call with the profiler. Monty looked around the room, stating, “Shirley knows her shit, but I swear this is about as clear as mud, as my momma used to say.”

The others agreed. No discernable personality trait of the killer they could pinpoint at this time.

Jack said, “While Luke is still collating the evidence, the rest of you will be assigned to continue the investigation and we need to make sure our location is secure. Chad, I’d like you and Cam to stay with me to work on the perimeter. I also need to file an initial report with the Governor. Bart and Blaise, you head to Tech and Eastburg campuses to see what you can dig up on the missing girls from there. Monty and Marc, you take Western VA community college, and Blue Ridge. You know the drill—get whatever information you can, however you need to get it.” Giving them a little grin, he added, “Just don’t get caught.”

The others chuckled, knowing Bart especially enjoyed breaking into wherever he needed to, and so far, his luck had held out.

Jack finished by saying, “Now, with added information and a little more idea of what we may be looking for, let’s see what we can find even though the trail may be cold.”