Absent Mercy, page 3
“Simon, it’s good to see you,” Amber said. It was always good to see him. There was something about her partner’s presence that radiated a sense of calm and control.
Simon smiled briefly. “You too, Amber. We should go in. Palliser is waiting for us.”
He gestured to a conference room and Amber headed there. Agent Palliser was there: a woman in her fifties, tall and pale, her dark hair shot through with a single silver streak. There was almost never any give in her expression.
The room around her had enough space for twenty people, with a large table dominating the center of the floor. Right now, the three of them were the only people in the room, making it feel far too large.
“Agents,” Palliser said as they entered. “Thank you for coming in at such short notice.”
“What’s the situation, ma’am?” Amber asked, taking a seat at the table. “You said it was a serial killer?”
Palliser nodded. “We’ve had a call from the town of Westford, over in Oregon. They’ve had two murders recently, which share a distinctive MO, making them appear to be the work of a serial killer. They’ve asked for the FBI’s help.”
Palliser went over to a screen, pulling up a file on it for Amber and Simon to look at.
“The first victim was a businessman named Thomas Jackson, an executive of the Westford-Myer Motor Company. He went missing from his home around two weeks ago. The local PD initially assumed that it was some kind of kidnapping. They received a message leading them through to a website with a word puzzle.”
That aspect of the murder caught Amber’s attention, and helped to explain her and Simon’s involvement in the case. The cases Amber had worked before had all involved puzzles, and her skills in solving them had helped to catch a number of killers.
“What kind of puzzle?” Amber asked.
Palliser brought the puzzle up on the screen. It looked like a simple game of hangman, the puzzle spelling out what appeared to be a street address. Amber frowned.
“Hangman? But that involves guessing letters. How does that work with this?”
Palliser seemed briefly pleased that Amber was asking the right questions about the case. Then the seriousness of the situation seemed to reassert itself and her expression hardened again.
“As I said, the message links through to a website, and it’s possible to input the letters there,” Palliser said. She brought up another image.
This was a crime scene photograph of a man hanging from a metal cable, winched into the air by a complex pulley system.
Amber’s stomach turned at the sight of him hanging there like that. She had seen plenty of gruesome photos in her new line of work, but each one was still a harsh reminder of the evil that existed in the world. Maybe it was good that she reacted like that, because Amber didn’t ever want to reach the point where the fact that someone had been murdered didn’t touch her anymore.
“What the local PD didn’t know was that every time they put in a letter, the mechanism tightened slightly,” Palliser said. “And every time they got a guess wrong, it tightened even quicker.”
“Dear God,” Simon muttered, looking away from the screen.
“So they were better off not guessing at all?” Amber said. It seemed less like a real puzzle and more like a trap now, inviting the police to kill the murderer’s victims for him.
“No,” Palliser said. “Because there was also a timer on the mechanism, meaning that if the local PD left it too long, the victim would be strangled anyway.”
Meaning that the only hope was to guess the location in as few letters as possible, as quickly as possible. It left the police in a vile situation, where if they got anything wrong, if they took too long or made wrong guesses, someone was going to die.
“That’s horrible,” Amber said.
Palliser nodded. She didn’t hold back from what came next, though.
“The second victim was found in a similar condition,” Palliser continued, bringing up another image. “A woman named Emily Chen, a marketing consultant. She’d been missing for a couple of days. Her body was found hanging in the same way as Thomas Jackson’s, in an abandoned warehouse.”
Amber stared at the image, her heart sinking. This was the reality of their job. This was what she had signed up for. To catch the monsters who did this kind of thing to innocent people.
It was also why she had to do this job. Why she couldn’t just go back to being a puzzle editor, the way Joseph wanted her to. Solving puzzles competitively was a rush, but this had the potential to make a real difference.
“Have our techs looked at the website and tried to trace it back to an IP address?” Simon asked, obviously thinking of the quickest potential way to get to the killer. The FBI had plenty of resources, and if the killer was setting up websites to allow him to play his sick game, then maybe that gave them a way to catch up to him.
“It’s a non-starter,” Palliser said, shaking her head. “The trace got bounced all around the world. The techs say anyone savvy enough to do all that won’t have run the website from their home address. They’ll have set it up from a dummy computer somewhere else.”
Meaning that they weren’t going to track the killer down that simply. They would have to find the killer using more conventional means.
“What’s our next move, ma’am?” Amber asked, her voice steady despite her worries about what the killer had done.
Amber couldn’t help but feel a chill run down her spine as she looked at the image on the screen again. The puzzle, the website, the elaborate system of pulleys and cables—it all seemed so calculated, so deliberate. Whoever this killer was, they weren’t just a murderer. They were a sadistic puzzle master. They didn’t just want to kill; they wanted to humiliate the police and assert some kind of superiority over everyone involved. They wanted to show that they were better, while forcing the police to kill his victims for him.
“I want you and Phelps in Westford as soon as possible,” Palliser said. “I have you both booked on a late flight tonight. You’ll get there, grab some sleep, and meet up with the local PD first thing tomorrow.”
Amber nodded, knowing that this was going to be a long and difficult case. But she was determined to catch this killer no matter what it took.
Her mind was already racing with ideas. She would need to brush up on her hangman skills, making sure that she understood the specific tactics of the game as well as she could, and start thinking about how to go about finding specific locations in a town she didn’t know.
“Understood, ma’am,” Simon said, standing up from his chair. “We’ll make sure to keep you updated on our progress. Who’s our contact in the local PD in Westford?”
“That’s a robbery/homicide detective there, Detective Angelique,” Palliser said. “She was the one who found the second body. It looks as though she took over the running of the case a day or so ago, when the news of the second murder came in.”
“Any chance that we’ll meet resistance from her about coming in on the case?” Simon asked.
Palliser shook her head. “No, she’s been more than happy to have us involved. She seems to recognize that this killer is beyond her and her team’s ability to catch. She’s been asking for help from the Bureau since she took over the case. She understands the value of collaboration. And this isn’t just any case. We’ll need to give them all the help we can out there.”
Amber nodded, glad that there wouldn’t be any trouble from the local cops. She was already mentally preparing herself for the flight and the case ahead. She would need to focus all her efforts on solving this puzzle before the killer struck again.
Palliser just gave a curt nod before turning to leave the room. Amber and Simon exchanged a look before following her out, already starting to plan their next move. Amber was making mental lists of the things she would need to do to be ready for this.
As they walked down the hallway, Amber couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in her gut. She had seen some twisted things in her brief career, but this was different. There was something planned and vicious about this.
“Do you have everything you need, or are you going to have to head back to your apartment before the flight?” Simon asked. “I can drive you back if you like.”
Amber appreciated the offer of assistance, but in this case, she didn’t need the help. She’d learned how suddenly cases could come up. She’d learned to be prepared.
“I have a go bag in the car,” she said. “I grabbed it before I drove out. You?”
Amber saw Simon shrug.
“I keep what I need here, just in case. Palliser has a habit of sending agents out on cases with no notice, so I want to be ready for the possibility when it comes up.”
Amber nodded, understanding the need for preparedness. Their last few cases had all come at short notice, had all required them to get to the crime scene as quickly as possible.
They reached the parking lot, and Amber unlocked her car, pulling out her go bag from the trunk, feeling the weight of it in her hand. In a way, it was a reminder of the seriousness of everything they were about to do.
“I’ll drive us over to the airport,” Simon said.
Amber nodded. That would make things easier, and it made sense for the two of them to travel over together. It also meant that she had enough time to call Joseph and tell him what was going on. She didn’t want to run out on him again without letting him know where she was going.
Yet she didn’t call right then, because calling might mean continuing the argument that they’d almost had earlier, might mean him trying to tell her that she shouldn’t do her job. Amber didn’t want that right now. She had a case to focus on, and she couldn’t allow Joseph’s fears for her to distract her from what needed to be done.
She needed to stay focused, to keep her emotions in check to be able to do her job. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. That meant that she couldn’t get caught up in an emotional tangle with Joseph right then, one that might make it harder to think straight right at the moment when Amber needed to be her sharpest.
Amber settled for messaging Joseph instead, because she still wanted to let him know what was happening.
The call I got about a case is going to take me out of town for a few days. Agent Phelps and I are hunting a killer over in Westford, Oregon. I can’t say much more than that. I enjoyed dinner. I’ll talk to you soon.
It sounded too terse, too brief. Amber thought about putting I love you at the end of the message, but she hadn’t even said that aloud yet, and a message like this didn’t seem like the right place to begin.
Amber settled for sending the message as it was. She hoped that it would be enough for Joseph, but even as she sent it, her mind was already back on the case, already back on the puzzles that the killer was sending and the kind of person who would design such a method of killing.
She wanted answers, but she and Simon weren’t going to be able to get those until they reached Westford.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Are you sure you’re prepared for all of this?” Simon asked.
Amber nodded toward her laptop. “I’m doing my best to get on top of it all.”
Amber wanted to be ready when she and Simon hit the ground. When she wasn’t sleeping, she used the flight over to try to get some sense of where they were heading and what was going on here.
“Tell me about this town we’re going to, then,” Simon said.
Amber was happy to oblige. “Westford, Oregon. It’s a town of around twenty thousand people, where a lot of the economy seems to be centered on just a few major businesses. One of those old company towns.”
“In this case, the Westford-Myer Motor Company?”
Amber nodded. “The Westford-Myer Motor Company was the biggest employer in town for years.”
“Was?”
“There have been some problems with the business recently, but it still seems to be one of the biggest businesses in town.”
Westford was a place where it was easy to imagine that everyone knew everyone, making it all the more disturbing that there was a killer among them.
With her initial research on the town done, Amber also found herself looking into the puzzle game of hangman, trying to work out what it was about it that would make a killer choose to use it as a part of his crimes, rather than some other puzzle.
That intrigued her, because it seemed like such a simple game. Amber was aware that there were people who would obsess over any game, no matter how simple or straightforward. There were communities out there for everything from tic-tac-toe to word searches. Yet Amber still found it hard to believe that the most serious puzzlers would choose those simple games instead of some other, more complex puzzle to baffle people with.
The origins of hangman were unclear; as with so many puzzles and games, there was a chance that it had been around for much longer than any of the records around it. The earliest reference to something like it that Amber could find was from 1894, but the imagery of the hanged man didn’t seem to have been added until later, being described in 1902.
Beyond that, there wasn’t enough that was specific about the game’s history to suggest that there was anything there that the killer might have picked up on. There wasn’t anything that made it particularly historically important or particularly suitable for this.
What was it then? Amber tried to consider the psychological aspects of it. Perhaps it was the thrill of the game and the idea of outsmarting the cops that was appealing to the killer. Or maybe it was the power dynamic, where the killer was the one in control and the victim was at their mercy. Maybe the choice of game was only significant because it connected to the method of death.
Whatever the reason for choosing the type of puzzle, Amber knew that she would have to be on her A game when it came to this case. She started to look into optimal hangman strategies. She discarded strategies for the standard two-player versions, because those seemed to focus on her getting to set half the problems, which wasn’t the case here. Instead, she started looking at an optimal letter choice analysis, which argued that the letter choices for the game weren’t necessarily the same patterns used in code breaking.
She needed to make sure that she was ready for whatever might happen in Westford.
Simon nudged her. “We’re almost there.”
Amber looked out the window of the plane. She could see what was presumably Westford below now, as it started to get light.
The sight was eerie, as there seemed to be a stillness that pervaded the landscape. It was almost as if the town had been put on hold, frozen in time as it waited for the killer to be caught. Amber shuddered at the thought.
Their plane landed without any complications, and Simon and Amber made their way to the rental car that had been arranged for them. Simon drove them over to the local PD, both of them wanting to get started on the case as soon as they could, since they’d both slept and eaten on the plane. Amber’s mind was racing with various scenarios that could play out as they investigated, each one worse than the last.
The Westford PD building stood close to the heart of the town. It was a two-story building made of white bricks and gray stone, which looked as though it had been there practically forever. There was a cluster of patrol cars parked outside. This early, there didn’t appear to be any journalists waiting to grab the latest on the murder of Emily Chen, but Amber imagined that they would be along in force soon enough. In a town like this, a serial killer would be the biggest news story around for days, if not weeks, to come.
Amber briefly thought about Joseph. A part of her wished that he were here with her, following the case as a reporter, even as she worked it as an agent. If he were here as a reporter, though, would he be asking for answers about the case? Then there was the argument that they’d almost had just before Amber left. Maybe it was better for him to stay away from this case, chasing stories back in DC instead.
Amber approached the door to the police department. The cold grip of the handle and the push of the button to unlock the door seemed to lend a seriousness to the working environment ahead. Or maybe it was just that Amber knew that they were about to be plunged into the middle of a murder investigation.
She stepped into the police department. The scent of coffee mixed with disinfectant wafted through the air as the sound of phones ringing filled the room. Officers moved about, some sitting at their desks, others pacing the floor, a few huddled together in conversation.
Simon led the way toward the front desk, where a woman with short blonde hair looked up at them.
“Hi, we’re here from the FBI,” Simon said, flashing his badge. “I’m Agent Simon Phelps and this is Agent Amber Young. We’re here to assist with the recent murders. Detective Angelique should be expecting us.”
The receptionist looked them up and down before nodding. “I’ll let Detective Angelique know you’re here. Hold on just a moment.”
The receptionist made a call while Amber and Simon stood there, looking over the department. A few moments later, Amber saw a woman coming down a flight of stairs. She was tall and dark-haired, pretty in a tough way, her suit rumpled in a way that suggested she’d been working pretty much non-stop. She’d probably had as little sleep last night as Amber and Simon had managed on the way over.
She came over, holding out a hand for Amber and then Simon to shake, her brown eyes roving over the pair of them as if trying to assess whether they would genuinely be able to help with this case or if they were going to get in the way.
“I’m Detective Angelique,” she said, in a tone that seemed to mix hope and caution. “You’re the FBI agents?”
Amber and Simon nodded in unison. There was still a part of Amber that had to be reminded that she was an FBI agent, and not still a part of her former life as a puzzle editor.
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