Deadly Dreams (29 page)

He’d had plenty of experience dealing with a female’s moods. Hell of it was, he just hadn’t thought Risa was the mercurial type that would need handling. He could allow himself to be a tad disappointed about discovering differently. Until they got to the scene and his focus settled solely on the case.

Montgomery County was a frequent commute for people who worked in Philly. The area was an oasis of suburbia, just far enough from the big bad city to be rid of its disadvantages, but close enough to reap its benefits, too. It still had a rural feel, with plenty of rolling hills and wooded areas in between the towns and housing developments dotting the county.

The crime scene was easy to find. Five sheriff’s cars were parked along the side of the road, blocking the entrance to what appeared to be an old farmstead. The rutted drive looked overgrown, but there was evidence of plenty of recent traffic through the young saplings and tall weeds that punctuated the area. With the windbreak of towering firs blocking the front, and the lightly wooded area along the twisting drive, the activity farther up the property was hidden from sight.

Nate got out of the car and headed toward the nearest deputy, who had straightened at his approach. “Lieutenant Detective Nate McGuire, Homicide, Philadelphia PD.” He felt, rather than saw Risa at his side. “Risa Chandler, special task force consultant. Sounds like you’ve got one of our guys in there.”

“Deputy Kyle Berding. Sheriff Haffey said to be expecting you.” His look encompassed Risa. “You’ll have to walk in. They’ve got the scene contained. I’ll radio him that you’re on your way.”

Thanking him, Nate headed toward the trail that had at one time been a driveway. The place was too wooded to have been a working farm. Likely it’d been acreage, although from the looks of the overgrowth still visible where the recent traffic hadn’t mowed it over, it’d likely been abandoned some time ago.

“So what do you think? A structure fire this time? Maybe used an old house or barn that was on its last legs anyway?”

“No. There was no structure.”

“You sound certain.”

She stepped over a recently downed small tree in the center of the drive. “He avoids structures, doesn’t he?” she said finally. “Other than the warehouse, which was a good pick, in its way. Empty, steel beams, brick exterior, no windows. He likes to be outside because he likes to watch. To stay as close as he can, as long as he can. You set a building on fire, and you’re likely to be consumed along with the victim. Fire burns a lot hotter with that much fuel.”

“If he’s got some of the arsonist psychology going on, the bigger the fire the better.”

“He’s more than that.” When she stumbled, gave a hiss of frustration, he reached out to grab her elbow. “The fire means something to him emotionally, but he’s most concerned with his victim’s suffering. And he wants to see that. Has to. It makes sense he consistently chooses a spot that allows him to stay close enough to experience his victim’s pain. That’s what gives him joy.”

They’d come to the top of the drive. The clearing ahead was alive with activity. Two fire trucks were still on scene, and three more sheriff vehicles were parked in a semicircle at the perimeter. There were far more people in the area than Nate was comfortable with on a crime scene, but as Morales had gone to great pains to remind him, it wasn’t his scene. He was the visitor here.

Sheriff Tom Haffey was a good two inches taller than Nate’s six foot height, and outweighed him by at least eighty pounds, most of it muscle. His face was flushed in a permanently ruddy complexion, and his pale blue eyes were shrewd as he considered Nate and Risa.

“Irony here is our fire department burned the old farmstead and out buildings down in a practice drill just last fall.” He shaded his eyes in order to better watch the progress of his people. “Property owners were supposed to fill in the cellar this summer to make sure trespassers didn’t fall into it and break their neck.”

“When did the call come in?” Nate asked.

“The fire department were alerted about four A.M. Someone reported smoke coming from this direction as they were heading into the city to work. Wasn’t much of a fire by the time we arrived. First we figured some kids threw a bunch of trash down in the cellar and started themselves a bonfire that was burning itself out. It wasn’t until after the firefighters put it out the rest of the way and it cooled down enough to start poking around down there that we realized we had a homicide on our hands.” His nod was courteous. “Heard about the string of murders you’re handling. But didn’t link this to your cases until we found the police ID. I called your chief immediately.”

“Did you happen to find a plastic badge?” The sheriff shifted his attention to Risa as she spoke. “The sort they sell in toy stores?”

“We did. My investigators are finished with the area. I’ll show you.”

They followed the big man to a spot twenty feet from the front corner of the foundation. The plastic evidence marker indicated the area. After a moment Risa straightened and turned to scan the area, before walking toward the north side of the cellar.

Nate stared after her in surprise. The sheriff glanced at him and shrugged. “Follow her.” They trailed in her wake until she halted by yet another evidence marker. Nate measured the distance from the cellar with his gaze, trying to visualize the scene.

There were stone steps leading down to the cellar from the back. At one time they had probably been covered with double wooden doors that had to be pulled open from the outside. The stairs were cracked but still usable. He no longer wondered why the killer had wandered so far outside the city.

This spot had everything he wanted. Isolation and a wide outdoor expanse that allowed him to do what Risa said he most needed. To watch.

“Is there another way to access this property?” she asked the sheriff.

“Funny you should ask.” He pointed toward the southwest. “See where the property starts to get more wooded? There’s a farm drive in there. Leads to a gravel road beyond those trees. There are signs that a vehicle passed through there recently.”

“The other victims were forced upright by a rope to a tree limb or rafter,” Nate observed.

“Looks like there was a large metal ring recently drilled into the stone wall,” Haffey observed. “The victim’s arms were attached to it with a chain. One of the sickest damned things I’ve seen on the job, and that’s with nearly thirty years of experience. You got any leads at all?”

“The investigation is progressing.” Nate chose his answer carefully. Since the local law enforcement were cooperating fully, they’d expect and deserve some professional courtesy. But he was still mindful of Morales’s warning about leaks the first day the task force had been formed. “We’re getting a better idea of why it’s happening. Obviously haven’t progressed yet on the victim selection. But some leads are opening up on that end, too.”

“Wish you luck,” the sheriff said heavily, his gaze back on the blackened form in the cellar. “I can’t think what anyone could ever do that would be bad enough to end them this way, though.”

Because the brass had smoothed the way for a city assistant ME to handle the transport, Nate and Risa left shortly after. A brief conversation with Morales on the way back to the city assured him that the victim would be delivered to the morgue where Liz worked. It was easier for the sake of consistency on the case to work with the same facility. He was hoping Liz would jockey to do the autopsy herself. The healthy respect he had for her was fueled at least as much by her professional talents as for her wicked tongue.

Risa waited until they’d jolted down the drive again and turned back onto the road. “Are we heading to Randolph’s house?”

He gave a grim nod. “The captain dispatched a team when we headed to the scene. We know he worked until eleven last night. A couple coworkers invited him to stop for a beer but he said he was going home. Now we need to figure out if he ever made it.”

“He took Randolph in his house.” Cass’s expression was sober. “The neighbor across the street got home at the same approximate time. Noticed the detective’s garage door going up about the time he was pulling in to his.”

“Did he happen to see a car leave here again?” Nate asked. They were standing in the empty garage. There was nothing to see except for a lone evidence marker near the door.

Cass shook her head. “He went right to bed, he said. We’ve canvassed the rest of the neighbors. Nobody else saw anything.” Seeing the direction of Nate’s gaze, she pointed at the evidence marker. “We did find a three-quarter-inch screw on the floor there. No telling how long it was there.”

“Using the oil stains on the garage floor as a point of reference, that might be the approximate area the rear license plate would be,” Risa murmured. He gave her a look. She’d still been quiet on the way over, but her color was back. And given what they’d seen on that video last night, he tended to agree with her.

“The UNSUB likes using cars from the victims to conduct the crimes,” he said for Cass’s benefit. “Let’s start running reports for stolen plates on similar makes and models.” He raised his brows and she consulted the notepad she held.

“Two thousand five Chrysler Pacifica, burgundy.” She read off the plates and vehicle identification number for Randolph’s vehicle.

“Check for stolen plates from others with that make and model. He’ll copy the VIN from them, too. And if you find one, talk to the owner yourself. See if we can get an idea where the UNSUB does his shopping.”

He followed Cass back into the house via the garage entrance. “We think the UNSUB was waiting for him in the house. There’s no evidence of forced entry, so either he had a key or he’s got some background with security systems.”

“We need to adjust the parameters for a ViCAP request,” Risa murmured behind him. “At least add in the kidnapping component.”

“Fine, but he hasn’t used the same method twice to snatch these guys that we know of,” Nate responded.

“And we need to factor in a possible criminal background,” she continued. “Someone familiar enough with stolen vehicles that he’s adept at changing VIN numbers. Circumventing security. He had to do that at least one other time that we know of. Christiansen’s car was equipped with an alarm.”

He stopped in the kitchen to allow Trimball time to finish the picture he was shooting. Then they progressed to the kitchen. “A nine millimeter was found lying there.” Cass indicated the spot where an evidence marker sat. “A check confirmed that it was a department-issued weapon identified as having been issued to Randolph. It hadn’t been fired.”

So the man had drawn it but hadn’t had an opportunity to get a shot off? Nate scanned the area thoughtfully. “How long had Randolph been on the force?”

Cass consulted her notebook again. “Nineteen eighty-four.”

Which meant if the victims turned out to be tied together by the mysterious Johnny, it was possible Randolph was in Tory’s the night that video was shot.

“We’ve got another commonality besides the fact that the men are detectives,” Risa murmured from his side. Glancing at her, he knew they were on the same wavelength. “They’re a similar age, aren’t they? Within a decade anyway. So far all of them were on the force by 1986 or sooner.”

“Roland Parker was the oldest of the four.” Nate shifted to the side to allow the crime scene techs room to pass. “He’d made it to retirement. Passed it. I think it’s time to pay another visit to his widow and press a bit harder on the outside job she claims he didn’t have.”

“This is the quickest way to have the job looking at us.” Juan slipped into the booth, his expression uneasy. “I’m on duty. I can’t stay away long. What’s so important we have to meet in the middle of the day?”

“There’s been another victim.” Johnny watched the others’ expressions closely. They looked at each other. Then across the table at him and Hans.

“Jesus. Jack? Jesus.” Juan dropped his head, hauled a deep shuddering breath in. Released it on a sob.

Jonas crossed himself. “Retribution,” he said in such a low voice that Johnny had to strain to hear. “To every sinner comes a time to atone. It’s atonement day.”

“Christ, shut the fuck up, both of you.” Johnny looked at Hans for help, but the older man was unusually silent. “If he got at Jack, this guy can get to any of us.” Maybe even him. A bolt a fear twisted through him. Jack was used to undercover work. Living day to day with the possibility of being made for a cop. His instincts were so ready that he’d once drawn down on Johnny for surprising him in the can. Who the hell was out there?

“You’re ignoring the obvious. You have all along.” Jonas leaned forward, his face grim. He looked like shit, Johnny noted. Gaunt. Without that slick polish the women all seemed to go for. “You’re forgetting Lamont.”

“Lamont?” Johnny didn’t pretend not to recall the name. “He’s dead. He’s been dead for nearly twenty-five years. The one thing I am not worried about in this whole clusterfuck is Lamont.”