Profile of Evil (23 page)

Patting both pockets of her sweats, Erin panicked. Her keys were gone.

The Master pulled his gun out of his pocket and shot her point-blank between the eyes. The force of the blast slammed her body against the wall, and then she slid to the floor. One brain-shattering shot and her life was over. Bye-bye, Sis.

Racing up the stairs, he shot out the back door into the yard and tried to figure out which way Alison may have run. Thinking she may be hiding in the barn, he sprinted down the driveway. Taking out his gun, he entered the dark barn and searched every crevice for the girl, but she was not there. Sweating and out of breath, he wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, went to the garage and searched it, but Alison was not there either.

Walking to the basement window, he stood before it and thought of what he would do if he'd escaped. He would probably have avoided the driveway, the barn, and the flat fields beside it. There were too many opportunities to spot him. He would have headed for the woods, and he'd bet his last dollar that was the direction Alison went. Grabbing a flashlight from his car, he entered the woods to search for the girl to end her life before she could ruin his.

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Chapter Nine

At six o'clock, Brody, Carly, Cameron, and Gabe arrived at the decoy house on Covered Bridge Road in a white unmarked van. The house was a new, red-brick two story on a cul-de-sac lot in an upscale community. Brody opened the garage door and pulled the van inside to hide it.

Once inside, Gabe installed temporary wiring for a digital camera to record the events, as well as a closed-circuit television. Watching the television on the kitchen bar, they could see anyone approaching the driveway, the front yard, or the front door. The house was staged to lure buyers with designer furniture, so Carly set about turning on lamps on both floors to make it look like someone was home. Cameron had talked to the neighbors days before, and most of them had chosen to go away for the weekend, with the exception of seventy-six-year-old Clarence Jackson, who planned to set his telescope up to watch the action. Three of the neighbors offered their garages to hide deputies in patrol cars who would take each perp to the county jail after he'd been arrested and read his rights.

An estimated twenty-one men were set to arrive that night to have sex with a thirteen-year-old girl — including Earl Haas. Several of the men had asked Carly if she was a law enforcement officer, and they'd believed her when she said she wasn't. A couple of men said openly they thought it was a sting, but were coming anyway, which told Carly a lot about the power their sexual urges had on these predators. They were risking their freedom for the possibility of sex with an underage girl.

Brody asked, "Gabe, do you have the list of party-goers for tonight?

Gabe nodded as he pulled a folder out of his briefcase and handed a stack of papers to his brother.

Brody smiled and said, "Good job. You've got their call names along with their real names and addresses.

"Don't forget the small photographs," offered Gabe with a grin. "I'll pull the list up on my laptop, so we can document anything they bring into the house that can be used as evidence."

"I'll help with that," offered Carly.

Looking at Cameron, she asked, "Anything new on Earl Haas?"

"The surveillance team watching Earl reported the house had been quiet with no signs of underage girls visiting."

Though the news was a relief to Carly, she wondered if Earl had Alison Brown hidden somewhere in the home. Was she still alive? If Earl Haas was the killer, she prayed he had not already murdered Alison and dumped her body somewhere in Shawnee County.

Cameron came in carrying sodas and bottles of water that he placed in the refrigerator, followed by Brody holding an armful of snacks. It was going to be a long night, but they wouldn't go hungry. Over their shirts, Brody, Carly, Cameron, and Gabe wore black bullet-proof vests with white letters spelling S-H-E-R-I-F-F on the back. They were taking no chances, in case any of these men were armed.

Setting up her laptop in the kitchen, Carly logged onto her Internet account and visited each site her ad was posted on. There were a few new respondents, but no messages from the men who were coming to the house that night. Gabe joined her at the bar and opened his laptop, planning to do some work before the men started arriving.

Brody opened the refrigerator and handed Carly, Cameron, and Gabe bottles of water. The group was filled with anticipation and adrenalin. They might end their night with the capture of a serial killer. At the very least, they'd arrest sexual predators and prevent them from victimizing more young girls. Carly felt good about the operation. Going after predators who prowl the Internet for victims helped keep real children from being abused. She was all for that.

Around seven-thirty, Carly noticed movement on the closed-circuit television, and motioned for Brody. "Our first party-goer is here."

Brody and Cameron rushed to the front door, waiting for the doorbell to ring. From the back patio, Gabe circled around to the side of the house for backup. The doorbell rang and the men sprang into action. Brody flung open the door, and Cameron grabbed the arm of a short, wiry-built man in his late twenties as Gabe rushed up behind him.

Brody shouted, "Shawnee County Sheriff! Stop!"

The second the man heard the word "sheriff" he stopped in his tracks and began sobbing hysterically, tears spurting out of his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

"Don't do this," he cried as he struggled to free himself. Cameron pressed him against the foyer wall and secured his wrists with handcuffs.

Skimming down Gabe's list, Carly identified the man as Aaron, who used the call name @AHOTGUY.

"His name is Aaron Walls," announced Carly. "He's twenty-nine years old, a full-time grad student at Purdue, and a part-time karate instructor for the After-School Program at Shawnee County Parks and Recreation. He drove here from West Lafayette."

Then with Cameron holding one arm and Brody grasping the other, Gabe asked, "So what did you bring to the party, Aaron?" Pointing at Aaron's jeans pockets, he asked, "Any needles or anything sharp in your pockets?"

Still wailing and begging them to let him go home, Aaron shook his head emphatically.

Gabe pulled items out of Aaron's pockets, announcing each one as he handed them to Carly for evidence bags. "Ten condoms stuffed in his wallet. Oh, what's this?" He asked as he pulled out a small plastic bag filled with marijuana.

Cameron pulled out his cell phone to call the deputy parked in a garage around the corner to come get their first arrest.

They'd barely gotten Aaron in the back of the patrol car and re-entered the house, when Carly, watching an image on the television, announced, "Get back in position, we have another one. He just pulled into the driveway. Wait a second. He's going back to the car. He got out a bag and is now walking to the front door."

The doorbell sounded, Brody whipped the door open, and Cameron tackled the forty-something man on the front porch. Gabe took the bag from his hands, and Cameron shoved the man against the wall to handcuff him.

"What's your name?" asked Brody as he patted him down, searching for weapons.

"Go to hell. I'm not giving you my name. I haven't done anything wrong," he said angrily.

Cameron pulled the man's wallet from his pocket, and flipped it open to see his driver's license. "This is Clay Dylan, age forty-six. Wait a minute." Turning the man around so he could see his face, Cameron glanced at him and said, "This sonofabitch is Hailey's English teacher at the junior high school. She was just talking about him the other night when I helped her with the essay he assigned."

Opening the paper bag Dylan retrieved from his car, Gabe looked inside and said, "English Teacher Mr. Dylan came to party. Look what we have here." In the paper bag were three adult toys, a pair of handcuffs, and a box of candy-flavored condoms. He handed the items to Carly, who recorded them on Gabe's laptop, and put them into evidence bags.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Mr. Dylan? Did you really just say that?" asked Brody incredulously. "Coming here to use those items on a thirteen-year-old girl isn't wrong? You make me sick."

By nine o'clock, they'd arrested fifteen predators, seven of whom were registered sex offenders. The majority of the men had contacted Carly through Craigslist, but three of them she met on Teen Chat.

Earl Haas had not arrived and Carly was getting worried. Their meet-up time was eight o'clock and he was an hour late. A ding sounding from her laptop drew her attention. It was a message from Earl. He was running late and would be there within ten minutes or so.

"Earl Haas is on his way," she announced to the others. "Are the search warrants ready to implement once we get him in custody?"

"Yes!" Brody and Cameron said simultaneously.

Turning her attention to the television, it was only a few minutes before a man came into Carly's view. On the sidewalk in front of the house, he walked slowly past as he eyeballed the house. Carly sized him up. He looked to be around five feet and ten inches or so, with a slender build which fit Earl's description, but she couldn't be sure it was him. As he continued walking, he disappeared in the darkness. Moments later, he re-appeared in the decoy house driveway. "He's here," said Carly excitedly. Focusing her attention on the television image as the man neared the front door, she announced, "It's Earl Haas!"

Not even waiting for the doorbell, Brody dived out the front door and knocked Earl Haas to the ground. Somehow, Earl slipped out of Brody's grasp and sprinted down the street with Cameron and Gabe on his heels. Once he was close enough to Haas, Cameron tackled him and pinned him to the ground while he fastened handcuffs on his wrists.

"Was that one of your old football moves?" Gabe teased, as he dragged Haas to his feet.

"Yup, and I'm happy to find it still works," Cameron returned, as he grinned with amusement.

Back at the house, Cameron pressed Earl against the wall while Brody patted him down for weapons.

"Listen," Earl began, "I don't know what's going on, but all I did was come to this house to ask for directions. I got lost."

"You're not lost, Earl," said Carly. "You're exactly where you planned to be, at the house where you thought you'd have sex with a thirteen-year-old girl."

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The Master continued his search for his slave named Alison. The sun had gone down an hour or so ago and the dark of night in the thicket of trees made the landscape barely visible. The girl could be hiding behind a tree, and he wouldn't even see her, unless she made a sound.

The woods were dangerous at night, even with a flashlight. The landscape seemed determined to stop him. Overhanging limbs crossed his path, seen at the last second. Rock outcroppings, ravines, or tree stumps were undetectable, too hidden to avoid. He'd already twisted his ankle after catching a root, falling to the ground hard, ripping his pants. Driven by an unrelenting fury, he ventured forward, determined to capture the girl.

Things were unraveling, and the threat to his power and control was unacceptable. It wasn't in his plan to kill his sister, but what choice did he have? She'd become a liability, and liabilities were too dangerous to allow to exist. And then there was the dead slave. Though not his first victim, Jasmine was the first to die as a result of one of his beatings. His anger was getting more difficult to control, and he was making mistakes that could get him caught.

Thinking back to the restaurant earlier, a visual of the Chase brothers, along with their bitch profiler, appeared in his mind. What a fun lunch they seemed to be having — joking, laughing and planning his demise. He'd make them pay for crossing the Master. One by one, he'd make them pay, especially the asshole sheriff and his little profiling girlfriend. He'd spend more time focusing on a plan to abduct, torture, and kill Carly Stone, with Brody Chase watching helplessly, before he got snuffed out, too.

The crack of a snapping twig stopped him in his tracks. He was not alone. Aiming the flashlight in the direction of the sound, he strained to see. Suddenly, a huge antlered deer rammed into him in his haste to escape a predator, knocking the Master backward to the ground with a painful thud. Lying there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, the Master struggled to his feet, crying out as a sharp pain exploded in the middle of his back.

"Damn you, Alison Brown. You bitch!" he roared. "If you can hear me, know that I will find you and kill you, if it's the last thing I do!"

Heading back toward the house, he vowed to return to his search for Alison in the morning light. The little bitch was going down before she had a chance to run her mouth. He wasn't concerned about her identifying Erin or him because they both wore ski masks. The chance she could lead the cops back to his house was a real concern, however, so he had to find her.

Limping and rubbing his back, he snaked his way through the undergrowth until he could see his house in the distance. There'd be no rest for him tonight. He had two bodies to bury in a new place the cops would never find.