Cache a Predator (21 page)

“Okay.” Her crying quieted.

He switched the call over. “Did you find her?”

“Where are you?”

“Almost at the station, why?” Brett held his breath. “Have they found her?”

“No.”

Brett exhaled, the air rushing out of him, draining him of hope. He smacked his fist into the seat.

“We need to hold a press conference. People are calling in, asking if they can be a part of a search party to find her. The phones are ringing off the hook. You need to address this, tell people how they can help.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“You also need to let this perp know you’re Quinn’s father. If he knows and thinks you’re an offender, you seriously could be his next target. You need to make an appeal so he realizes you won’t harm her. Do you think we can get Sarah to address what happened so panic doesn’t run rampant in our foster homes too?”

“I think she’ll do that.”

“They’d better do it. CPS’s butt is on the line right now. They were negligent. Someone needs to be accountable.”

“Has Peggy given a statement as to how this happened?

“She said they didn’t know Stookey had a son who was a sex offender. She’d been a prominent teacher in our school system for a long time and had a stellar home study. No one knew about her son. He moved away years ago.”

Brett’s call-waiting beeped again. “Clay, the hospital is calling. I’ll be at the office in five minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll schedule the press conference for eight thirty, in an hour. Oh, one more thing, I’ve been thinking about the perp. There’s no ransom letter. I doubt there will be. He doesn’t want money. He never has. He wants to harm sex offenders. Make them live without their wand. I really don’t think he’ll harm Quinn.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Brett switched calls. “This is Reed.”

“Have they found Quinn yet?” Ali’s mother didn’t bother to say hello. She must have used Ali’s hospital room phone, which was why the hospital’s number had appeared on his screen.

“Nothing yet. How’s Ali?”

“She’s still in a coma.”

“Nothing’s changed?” Brett heard beeping monitors in the background.

Mrs. Greer said, “Some guy came by to visit her. Said she killed his fiancée and he’s going to sue her for everything she has. Said Ali took away his entire future.” She sniffled. “I told him he needed to talk to you. That you were responsible, not Ali.”

Brett rolled his eyes. Of course she would say that. She really believed that if he hadn’t divorced Ali, she’d be here safe right now.
Give me a break.

“I gave him your name and phone number.”

“How nice of you.”

Brett disconnected the call and pulled into the station parking lot. Almost every single spot was taken with patrol cars from all over the state. A lump formed in his throat. All these officers were here to help find Quinn. Never had he seen a force this large in his little town.

#

When Brett entered the precinct, fellow officers greeted him, squeezing his shoulder and patting him on the back. Several others welcomed him with a nod and a smile. Max’s tail wagged as officers approached and acknowledged him too.

Clay rubbed Max’s ears. “Where did you find him?”

Brett explained as he took a seat at his desk. “I can’t help but wonder if Mark dropped him off. It’s sketchy how Max returned home when Mark’s car was parked out front.”

Max lay on the floor beside him, resting his head on his legs, his eyes following Brett’s every move, as if waiting for the moment they could go find Quinn.

Brett noticed Clay’s dark beard and wrinkled clothes. “You never went home last night, did you?”

Clay shook his head. “Officer Riggs followed Mark to a geo-site around midnight.”

“What?” Brett bolted out of his seat. “Is he our guy?”

Clay waved his hand. “Not sure. Riggs brought him in for questioning, but he claimed he was only out trying to find the latest prize. He said he didn’t even know Quinn was gone, and he’d never heard of geocaching before all this.”

“You believe him?” Brett bit his lip.

“We had to let him go for lack of evidence, but Riggs is tracking his moves.”

Was Mark their guy? Brett didn’t trust him. The guy knew more than he was saying. But why would he have taken Quinn? “Can’t we search his home?”

“Riggs did last night. Mark said he didn’t have anything to hide, and he let him take a look around.” Clay squeezed Brett’s shoulder. “There was nothing there. Sorry.”

Brett’s stomach soured. His hands clenched into fists, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That guy knows more than he’s saying, and I’d like to beat it out of him.”

Chief Dunson strolled into the room. His wire-rimmed readers rested on his nose as he peered over the top of them. “Let’s all meet in the conference room.”

By the time Brett and Clay joined the others, it was standing room only. Every chair was filled. Brett couldn’t remember a time when so many officers had been in the conference room at one time.

Chief whistled and everyone hushed. “People in the community are starting to panic. This perp has made them realize we live among sex offenders. That they’re living all around us—that their children are surrounded by these pervs. This unsub has brought attention to sex offenders in this community—which is precisely what he wants to do. Now, with Officer Reed’s daughter missing, we need to ramp up our efforts to find this guy.”

Chief’s secretary walked into the room and handed the chief a folder. He took it from her and began. “First, I’ll go over the facts based on the forensic evidence. Then, I’ll give you the rough profile of who we might be looking for.

“Our first victim’s identity is unknown, but he was dead at the time of amputation. The medical examiner estimated he’d been dead about two weeks. The next three victims were sex offenders. The unsub used chloroform on a rag to render them unconscious. Then he injected them with an anesthetic, used a rubber tourniquet to cut off the penis’s circulation and used something like a scalpel to amputate. The three victims were sleeping at the time of attack. Two were under the influence of alcohol.

“So, given the above facts, we can draw some conclusions. The unsub is most likely male and either a victim of sexual abuse or lost a loved one to a sex offender. But we can’t rule out a female who hates men and who may have been abused.”

Someone blurted out. “Or a woman who has penis envy.” Men laughed, but the women sat stoic.

Brett thought of Sarah. Suspicious thoughts of her loomed in the cells of his brain. Hadn’t she alluded that she didn’t trust men, that she’d had a difficult experience with them? And she was also a geocacher. That was crazy thinking, but he’d caught her near one of the sites. Was it possible? No, why would she have taken Quinn? Besides, Sadie’s description had sounded more like a guy with clunky shoes. That didn’t make sense. He forced his attention back on the chief.

Chief chuckled and took off his glasses. “Dog, cat, and horse hairs have been found near the victims. The third victim had a cat, so our guy may have pets or live on a farm. Since the first victim was deceased, he could work in a funeral home. He may think of himself as a do-gooder—his purpose obviously to rid society of sex offenders.

“He’s bold in that he’s taking risks by going into the victims’ homes. He’s childlike in that he’s hiding the object for others to find, but he
wants
us to find them. He wants the public to notice. He’s smart enough to know to use a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, and he doesn’t want his victims to die. He wants to take away their joystick and make them suffer without it.”

A few men squirmed in their chairs, sniggering and reaching for their crotches.

The chief continued. “He’s left each victim alive in the same place he mutilated them—not performing any additional ‘staging’ for drama. It’s unknown if he lives and works in this county, but there’s a good chance he does since all the incidents have taken place in this general area.”

Chief displayed a map on the overhead projector and pointed to where each victim lived. Then he identified the geocaching sites where the body parts were found. Several officers moved to one side of the room to see the display. Small red dots signified current registered geo-sites. Chief pointed to these sites. “All these need to be checked and monitored. We’re still looking for the last victim’s prize.”

A few of the officers snickered. Chief cracked a smile too. “If the unsub hasn’t hidden the last one yet, he’ll be doing it soon. It’s possible he could live in this area since most of the activity is near here.” Chief drew a circle around where the victims lived and where the body parts had been found. “Our guy is organized in that he’s taken the time to locate sex offenders and learn their habits—when they’re home and when they’re asleep. He’s most likely working alone.”

Next, the chief put a photo of Quinn on the overhead. “This is Quinn. Officer Brett Reed’s daughter.” Chief motioned for Brett to stand. As he did, the lump lodged in his throat. He let his tears fall. Seeing Quinn’s picture put him over the top. Fellow officers glanced his way with brows creased, giving compassionate nods.

Several said, “We’ll find her.”

The chief continued, “We haven’t found the dead victim’s body, but here’s what we know: Twelve men in this county died in the last three weeks. The background of five have been researched—three were cremated; two were buried in Lake Hursey’s Cemetery on the east side of town. The cemetery manager confirmed that the other two had been buried more than a week ago, and there was no sign of tampering at their grave sites.

“If the perp actually severed the dead guy’s piece after he died, the perp could be someone who works in a morgue, having access to dead bodies. But the county coroner said if someone had broken into the morgue, severed the organ, and redressed the deceased, the funeral home staff would know. The embalming fluid would have seeped all over the deceased’s clothing. The coroner didn’t think it was likely that it could have happened before the burial without someone noticing. Two men on the list have been stored in a mausoleum: one in this county at Hursey Lake Cemetery and one in a neighboring county. Neither of these men were registered sex offenders.”

The chief pointed to Officer Hudson as he lifted a paper from his file. “You go to the mausoleum at Hursey Lake and check out this victim. Get a search warrant to open it up.” He handed her the paper, glancing at it. Then he paused, did a double-take, and whistled. “I knew this guy. He was an asshole.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then reopened them. “This is a happy day.”

What was that about?

A few seconds later the chief pointed to another officer. “You check out the one in Steward County.” He handed her the respective report.

Officer Hudson stood next to Brett. He looked over her shoulder, reading the information on the paper:

 Levi Samuel. Born in 1935, married to Rebecca Wright, who preceded him in death in 1990.
Where had Brett heard or seen the name Levi Samuel? Maybe it had been on the list of the deceased he’d studied last night. What did the chief know about him?

Chatter hummed in the room. Chief clapped his hands to regain attention. “One more thing. The other foster child, who claims to have seen the perp, was able to give the forensic artist enough information to come up with this drawing.” Chief replaced Quinn’s photo with the drawing. The photo on the screen was distorted, as if the perp had worn a mask or a nylon stocking over his face. He looked bald, but it could have been the way the stocking had disguised the person’s real face and hair color. The child wasn’t certain if the perp was black or white.

But something about the photo looked vaguely familiar to Brett—like he’d seen this person before but couldn’t place him. Or her. And he couldn’t remember where.

The chief separated the task forces into groups, assigning men and women to cover territories across the county. Some were to interview sex offenders, and others were to check geo-sites.

After they all dispersed, Brett returned to his desk next to Clay’s, waiting for the press conference to begin.

Max followed.

Chapter Twenty

After Brett left the chief’s office, he returned to his desk and jotted a note to himself.
Research Levi Samuel
. Then he scribbled notes for the press release. He sighed, looking up at Clay, who was standing over him, puffing out his chest as if he was Brett’s personal bodyguard. The press had arrived. Brett reached for the large photo of Quinn that sat in a frame on the corner of his desk, and his script, which he glanced at one more time.

Clay peered over Brett’s shoulder. “Don’t read it. This needs to be heartfelt. Whoever he is needs to see that you’re a good guy. He needs to believe everything you say.”

Brett nodded. He hooked Max to his leash, took a deep breath, smoothed his shirt, and headed to the front of the station. The sun peeked out from its hidden spot behind a white cloud, casting bright rays over the crowd that had already gathered.

Brett recognized fellow officers, the blond anchorwoman from that morning, his mother, and … his father. His father looked off in another direction. Brett stared openly. How long had it been since he’d seen him? Six years? The old man’s hair had thinned and grown whiter. He stood a little bent, and his clothes hung on him like he’d lost twenty pounds. His skin pallor had a sickly gray hue to it. Brett had never seen him so gaunt. It stunned him, and he was suddenly overcome with emotion and memories of baseball games, camping trips, and games of chess.

Why weren’t he and his mother at the hospital for his chemotherapy? The old man turned, and their eyes locked. His father smiled and nodded, then gave him a thumbs-up, as if saying, “I’m here for you.”

A lump rose in Brett’s throat. His mother waved and took hold of the old man’s arm. Together they stormed through the crowd toward him. By the time they reached his side, the media had gathered. His mother slipped her hand in his, and his father squeezed his large hand over Brett’s shoulder. His mother stood to his left, his father to his right. Brett took a deep breath, fighting tears, standing a little taller.