Profile of Terror (23 page)

"I do now, sir," Gail responded, as embarrassment flooded through her.

Brody broke in.  "Deputy Sawyer, why don't you assist Deputy Wilson?  Make sure no one who shouldn't be here gets inside the grounds."

Once she reached the road, Brody turned to the coroner. "Hey, Bryan.  Could you have said all that a little louder?  I don't think the folks on Main Street heard you."

"I can't count how many times I've told your deputies not to cover the victim with a blanket," said Bryan, still frustrated.  "Move over.  I can't see the victim."

Brody moved aside and Bryan crept closer to the body.  "She's posed like Abby Reece's body, and has the plastic bag over her head, too.  Looks like Abby's killers have struck again."

To the crime scene technician taking photographs of the crime scene, he said, "Get a close-up of that gold necklace she's wearing."

Cameron said, "I noticed that necklace, too.  It's an old-fashioned locket like Mom used to have. Those things open, and usually there's a photo of a loved one inside.  I knew Destiny Cooke, and I don't see her wearing something like that."

Bryan examined her arms. "There are no defensive injuries, which suggest she was restrained, probably by the same type of duct tape we see on her now.  If we get lucky and the killers didn't wear gloves, we might lift a print from the duct tape.  I've got a tech who's a genius at lifting prints with super-glue."

"How fast can you make an official identification?" Cameron asked.

"I'll call you.  I've got her dental records, so it won't take long."

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Just before dark, Gabe pulled into Kaitlyn's driveway, turned off the ignition, and sat in his truck assessing the house and surrounding area for places where intruders could hide. 

Kaitlyn's house was a one-level renovated farmhouse, painted a pale yellow with white shutters and trim.  A porch ran the front of the house, and two white rocking chairs with fluffy, floral cushions sat on the porch.  There was a bright floral wreath on the front door.  The home looked like something out of one of his mom's old
Country Living
magazines, with all the feminine touches that suited Kaitlyn. 

Next to the house was a relatively new two-car garage.  A dense wooded area lay to the right of the property and behind it.  To the left was a corn field that went on for as far as he could see.  The closest neighbor was at least a mile or two away. The place failed miserably for security.  Intruders had multiple options to enter and hide on the property.

Gabe needed to quickly move Kaitlyn into a suite at their main house before it was too late. How hard would Kaitlyn, who could be stubborn as hell, fight him to stay in her own home?  Any place would be safer than this one.

Getting out of his truck, he balanced the large pizza on the palm of one hand, and carried a bottle of wine in the other.  Kaitlyn met him at the door with a radiant smile, making him wish he was not here to tell her there had been another murder and she was next on the killer's list.

Inside, he noticed lit candles on her dining table, along with china, silverware, and wine glasses.  It was set up for romance, and his conversation would be anything but.

Kaitlyn wore a snug, silk tee that accentuated her round breasts, in the exact shade of ocean blue to match her eyes, along with a worn pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin.  Kaitlyn had a body that pushed all his buttons in a very big way.  He wanted to pull her hard against him and kiss her all the way to her bedroom, then make love to her for hours.

Instead, Gabe handed the pizza to Kaitlyn, who placed it on the table.  At the kitchen counter, he popped the wine bottle and she wound her arms around his waist as she kissed him.  A spike of heat caught him low in the gut, and if he didn't get some control, he'd take her right in her kitchen.

Gabe led her to the dining room.  "Are you hungry?  I'm starving."  He poured their wine and pulled out a chair near him for Kaitlyn.

Suddenly a small dot of red light appeared on the wall next to them. 

"What is that?" asked Kaitlyn.

Recognizing it as the laser light from a gun, Gabe grabbed Kaitlyn out of her chair and hit the floor, landing on top of her.

"Ouch!"  She squealed.  "Okay, I get it.  You're into rough sex.  But you're killing my back. Besides that, I'm famished. Can't we have pizza first?"

Gabe shifted, balancing his weight on his elbows, placed his hand over her mouth, and whispered, "Kaitlyn, that red light is from a laser mounted onto a gun.  Someone is outside."

"Oh, c'mon.  You can think of a better reason to jump me than that."

Shots rang out, shattering the window, as well as the china and wine glasses on the table, shooting splintered glass projectiles throughout the room and cutting Gabe's back.

Now terrified, Kaitlyn tightened her arms around Gabe, clamping down like a vise grip, as her heart hammered against her chest.

"Damn it!"  Gabe cursed.  "I left my gun in the glove box in my truck."

"Gun?  I've got guns!"  Kaitlyn pushed at him.  "Get off me.  They're in my bedroom closet."

Looking down at her, Gabe shook his head.  "Why am I not surprised?"

"As much as I'm turned on by your buff, sexy body pressing against mine, if you could please roll off of me, I'll get my guns."

"Oh, hell no.  You're not going anywhere.  I'm a private investigator.  I think I can find your closet.  Wait here and don't move until I get back."

The shots continued as Gabe army-crawled on his belly to her bedroom.  Inside her closet, he found a loaded shotgun propped upright in a corner, and a loaded handgun on a shelf.

He returned to Kaitlyn and gave her the handgun.  "I assume you know how to use this.  Stay here while I circle the house to find out where the shooter is."

Climbing out a back window, Gabe pressed himself against a tree as he eyeballed the woods in back for any signs of activity.  Finding none, he moved to the side of the house that faced a thicket of trees.  Headlights flashed on just beyond the trees, and a motor roared as the vehicle headed toward the road.  Gabe raced to the road and reached it just in time to see the tail-lights of a van speeding toward town.

Pulling out his cell phone, he called Cameron to send backup, and for crime scene technicians to search for spent casings from what he guessed to be a semi-automatic rifle used by the assailants.

Back inside the house, a terrified Kaitlyn flew into his arms.  "You're safe now, Kaitlyn.  They're gone.  But we have to talk."

Leading her to the sofa, he made her sit down, then he sat beside her, holding her hand.  "Something's happened that you need to know about.  Abby's killers have claimed another victim — Destiny Cooke."

"Oh, no. I saw the media coverage of her disappearance and prayed she'd be found safe. Her poor family."

Gabe took a folded piece of paper from his pocket.  "Just like before, the killers emailed me."  He handed it to Kaitlyn to read.

Once she reached the end of the note, she looked up at him. "I'm next, aren't I?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Gabe began.  "I want to move you to a safer place.  I think it was the killers who shot up your house."

"But where can I go?"

"Move into our main house.  The house is divided into suites because my parents thought they'd turn it into a bed and breakfast or lodge someday.  Cam and I live in two of the suites.  There are four left for you to choose from.  Brody's made sure the house and property security is top notch.  You'll be safe there."

Kaitlyn headed for her bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm packing.  You don't think I'm going to fight you to stay here by myself, do you?"

Gabe was vigilant about watching the wooded area, where he saw the vehicle headlights from her front porch.  After a while, he stepped back inside.  Listening to Kaitlyn packing her things in her bedroom, he walked around her living room.

"Hey, Kaitlyn.  Are you almost ready?"

"Not yet, and quit bugging me, Gabe."

Chuckling to himself, he examined the contents of her three bookcases, which were floor-to-ceiling and crammed with education textbooks and romantic suspense novels.  His attention was drawn to the second shelf of the first bookcase where a Matchbox car sat in the midst of tiny shards of glass that had blown in from the dining room.  He picked it up.

The Matchbox car was a 1976 Pontiac Firebird in metallic blue with orange tinted windows and chrome interior.  The tiny toy Firebird was identical to the car his mother drove in high school.  He turned it over to see the underside, and right where Brody had scratched it with a nail, was the letter "C" for Chase.  There was no mistaking this was the Matchbox car Gabe had given to Cat in the second grade.

He'd had this feeling since the first time he met her that there was something very familiar about Kaitlyn.  Could Kaitlyn be the girl he nicknamed Cat in the second grade?  There was no other explanation for her having his toy car in her possession.

All this time, he'd thought Cat had died.  He'd mourned for her, but he'd never forgotten her, thanks to the constant replay in his dreams of the day she left in the ambulance. 

A siren in the near distance broke into his thoughts.  Soon Cameron and Seth Ziegler, a crime scene technician who specialized in ballistics, arrived.

Meeting his brother on the porch, Gabe led Cameron and Seth to the side of the house where the windows were shattered.

"Not to mention your truck.  You're lucky you weren't hit!" Cameron said to Gabe.

"I think he used an assault rifle, possibly a semi-automatic.  His van was parked over there in that thicket of trees."

"I'll head over there and see if the shooter left any spent bullet casings," said Seth.

"White van?" Cameron asked.

"I saw the vehicle, but couldn't see a plate or anything by the time I ran to the road."

"I've got my detectives looking for a white van.  They tell me in Shawnee County alone, there are over two hundred. Who knows how many white vans are in the surrounding counties?  My gut tells me the killers live in this county, so I've got them running down each one, taking a special look at the 2012 Chevrolet 1500 utility vans on the list."

"Good idea.  These sick freaks need to be caught, and soon."  Gabe's voice was low and trembling with anger.  He couldn't get the ugly visual of Abby's and Destiny's posed bodies out of his head.  And now they wanted Kaitlyn.

"No argument there, bro," said Cameron.

Soon Seth returned, holding several spent casings. "I've got an AK-47, and I'll bet you my next pay check that is what these were shot from.  I'll give you a final verdict in a couple of days."  He headed for his vehicle, then drove back to his lab in town.