Black Light: Possession, page 13
“You know, Ms. Parrish did rush out of the bakery pretty quickly. Almost like she was spooked about something. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so I didn’t really think anything on it,” Evans tacked on, shaking his head. “Damn, I should have paid more attention.”
“You talking about Jane Doughs?”
They both nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You two report back to headquarters. I want you to head to evidence and see what the ERT has come up with. Call us immediately if they get a hit on anything. Joseph, let’s go.”
We ran out to the car and raced the few blocks to the bakery, praying it was still open. When we pulled up, Joseph cursed. “Son of a bitch.”
“Let’s knock on the door. Maybe someone is still in the back.”
I pounded on the door praying all the while. Then, we waited. Nothing. I pounded again. God damnit.
“Look, I’ll put in a call and search the owner’s information to get a number.”
We turned and headed back to the car. Just as I stepped off the curb to walk around to the driver’s side, the sound of a bell jingled.
“Can I help you?”
We both turned at the melodic voice. A petite woman with reddish-blonde hair piled on top of her head stood holding the door of the bakery open. She had a heart-shaped face with that girl-next-door look and appeared to be in her late-twenties or early-thirties.
“Are you Jane?” I asked, hopeful that this was the woman we needed to speak with.
“Yes. Can I help you?” she asked cautiously, unsure of our intent.
I sighed in relief and my shoulders relaxed from their tensed position as I reached into my pocket for my ID. “My name is Agent Nathaniel Morgan and this is Agent Joseph Crocker. We need—”
“Wait a minute. Are you the Nathaniel and Joseph? Like Madeline’s Nathaniel and Joseph?”
Joseph and I looked at each other in surprise and then back at Jane. “She’s told you about us?”
Her face flushed a light pink shade and she lowered her gaze before returning it back. “Um, she may have mentioned something.”
I knew Joseph felt the same rush of pride that Madeline had told her friend about us. It also looked like there was also a hint of envy in little miss Jane’s tone.
“Jane, we need your help. Madeline has gone missing, we believe kidnapped. We know she was in here this morning. And that it’s possible something spooked her. You don’t happen to have any cameras in there do you?” I gestured toward the shop.
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God. Yes, of course. Come in. I’ll pull the tapes for you.”
We entered the bakery and Jane closed and locked the door behind us. “The camera monitor is back here.”
She led us through the saloon-style swinging door into the back, around racks of covered baked goods, until we reached a small office. Jane took a seat in the office chair and tapped the keyboard.
“Sorry, I have such ancient equipment. My father owned the bakery before me and still lived in archaic times when it comes to technology. It’s just something I haven’t gotten around to upgrading yet.”
I shook off her apologies. “Don’t worry about it.”
“If you give me just a second, I can rewind the tapes all the way back to this morning when Madeline arrived.”
“Actually, can you go back further than that? We’re looking for a guy that might have already been here waiting.”
She shot us a questioning glance, but did as we asked. “I’ll roll back to when we opened.”
I nodded my thanks. The three of us stared at the monitor, watching the fast moving images on the screen play backwards. I thought I caught a glimpse of Madeline in one frame, but it went by too quickly. A few moments later, the image blacked out. There was some brief static and then the picture cleared. We watched as customers came and left with still no sign of our potential suspect.
“Is there any way to speed up the frames without specifically fast-forwarding?” I asked after twenty minutes of absolutely nothing. We’d be here all day at this rate, and we didn’t have that kind of time.
Jane bit her lip in uncertainty. “Maybe. Let me try something.”
She fiddled with a couple buttons and soon the frames began progressing faster, but not so fast that we couldn’t see every detail. Frame after frame passed quickly, but still nothing. It was closing in on the time that Madeline had arrived and I’d just about given up any hope that this was going to lead us to someone. That was until we got to the 7:32 a.m. time stamp.
“Shit, there. Slow it back down, please.” Joseph and I sat up, alert now that a new customer had walked into the bakery. The screen speed slowed and we watched as a man whose entire face wasn’t visible yet stood at the counter ordering. He turned as though to look over his shoulder toward the door and his entire face came into view.
“Him,” Joseph pointed to the man now visible. “Do you recognize that guy?”
Jane leaned forward to stare closely at the screen, studying it with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, his name is Grady. He’s been a regular for the last month or so. Comes in a few times a week, always sits at the same table. Nice guy, tips well.”
“Do you know Grady’s last name?” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice that maybe we were going to get this guy.
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry I don’t. He’s never told me, and I’ve never asked.”
“Does he ever pay with a credit card? Maybe this morning? Would you have a receipt, anything, with his full name on it?”
Her shoulders fell. “He always pays cash to my knowledge.”
“Fuck,” Joseph jumped from his chair and began to pace, his fingers laced behind his head.
“I wish I could help more.”
I reached out and laid my hand on her forearm. “You’ve helped more than you know. Thank you.”
It felt weird being the one offering comfort to someone. Usually that was Joseph’s job. He was the one who was good at it. Me? I was usually the one cursing and pacing. I rose to take my place next to Joseph.
“Let’s go talk to Kurt. Give him our guy’s name and see what he can come up with.”
Joseph stopped pacing to look over at me before nodding. I turned back to Jane.
“Can we take this tape with us?”
“Of course,” she hurriedly removed the surveillance video before handing it to me.
I took it from her hands. “Thanks for your time. We really do appreciate it.”
“I hope Madeline is alright. If I think of anything else, I promise to call you.”
We weaved our way through the kitchen again and out through the bakery until we reached the car. I knew Joseph was hanging on by a thread. I knew, because I felt the exact same way.
“We’ll find her.”
There was no reply as I pulled away from the curb and headed back to FBI headquarters. We needed to meet with Kurt. I only prayed we weren’t too late to save her.
Chapter 24
Madeline
“So, was he?” I asked again when Casanova didn’t respond.
“No. My father was first.”
“I see. What did your father do to deserve to die?”
He stared into the cold, empty fireplace, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to. But what about your mother? Is she still… around?” I needed to step lightly with my questioning, because I didn’t want to ask anything that might set him off. Especially considering his response to my last question.
“My mother is still back in Mill Valley. Even after all these years, she never could bear to leave.”
A cold chill raced across the back of my neck, and a sickening knot of dread grew in my belly.
“Mill Valley, California?” My voice squeaked with the question.
He looked at me questioningly. “Of course, that’s where we grew up. You said you remembered Billy. He went to school with us.”
I scrambled to think. "That's right. I don't know where my mind is. Wow, that was a lifetime ago."
“Twenty-five years. But, I'll never forget that day when you kicked Billy. I was the new kid in school and didn't have any friends yet. That day meant everything to me." He chuckled. "I think that was the day my love for you began. Every time you smiled at me, I held it close to my heart. I loved that we shared something special between us. I knew what you were trying to tell me every time you looked my way. That you felt the same way I did. The flutters in my belly whenever you were near. That sense of giddy anticipation knowing I’d see you at school the next day. I was devastated when you moved away and didn't tell me where you were going. You almost broke my heart. But then I realized that you would have told me if you could. Your parents didn’t give you any time. So, I waited patiently until I grew up and could start looking for you. It's taken me this entire time to find you. Now that I have, we can be together. Forever."
Holy shit. Pieces were finally falling into place. I recalled a boy. An outcast. One who was always nearby. Following my friends and me around. They’d wanted me to tell him to leave us alone, but other than being a little weird, he hadn't bothered me. He didn’t try to invite himself into our circle. He was content to remain on the sidelines. But he never strayed far from us. From me. Was this actually him? Had he really been searching for me since fifth grade?
“Grady?” I asked, hesitantly, hoping, yet dreading, I was right.
His eyes widened and his mouth formed the shape of a smile, his lips widening slightly to show the whites of his teeth. I stared intently at his features, trying to bring back the memory of an eleven-year old boy I’d barely known for a year. “See, you do remember me. I knew you would.”
“Of…of course I remember you,” I stuttered. My brain began to filter through everything he’d told me about the letters he’d written. About leaving me clues. About our secret place. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry I was so angry with you earlier. That I hurt you. I just got a little out of control when I thought you had no idea who I was. That you’d forgotten me and how much we meant to each other. It made me so angry. I just reacted.”
The words were right, but the tone wasn’t sincere. It was like he was reciting them by rote. Like he knew what he was supposed to say, but didn’t have the emotion to back up the words. His eyes were still black with evil. Either way, it didn’t matter. I didn’t believe a word he was saying, but he didn’t need to know that. I’d play along so long as it kept me alive.
I nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Sometimes our emotions get the best of us. It’s only natural. I’m sure that’s what happened with those other women.”
Grady’s brows crinkled in puzzlement and his head drew back slightly. “What other women?”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “The ones you killed.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill any women.”
“But—” I swallowed hard. “What about the body in my backyard? The letters? I mean you’re Casanova. They said you’ve killed five women.”
He jumped up from his seat in agitation causing me to scramble backwards across the couch. “Stop saying that!”
“I’m sorry,” I held my hands out in a placating gesture.
Grady paced back and forth, the knife still in one of the hands he clasped his head in like he was holding off a headache. Or something else. My eyes tracked the path he wove, keeping a close watch on him. I noticed he was mumbling under his breath, talking to himself. I jerked in alarm when he stopped suddenly and spun around to face me.
“Who the hell is Casanova?” he snapped.
I unfurled myself from my protective position wondering how much I should share with him. It was obvious he truly didn’t know. Maybe I could make this work in my favor. “The FBI are looking for a serial killer who sends love letters to the women he kills. They think you’re him. And now that you have me, they won’t stop until they find me. And you.”
“No, no, no,” he screeched, his composure utterly rattled while he continued to pace. “This can’t be happening.”
I grew worrisome when his movements grew more frenetic and he started mumbling to himself again. Grady was blatantly unstable and this news was setting him off to the millionth degree. I was terrified for the consequences of this development and needed to try and diffuse the situation. “Grady, listen to me. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll make sure they know you didn’t harm any of those other women. I’ll tell them there is someone else out there. They’ll believe me.”
He whipped around to face me, his expression completely flat, his body movements no longer fidgeting and twitchy, but rather smooth and fluid. His mouth twitched and then turned up on one side into a smirk before he let out a single guffaw followed by another and another until he was laughing manically. Only there was no humor in it. It was pure evil. I shivered when his soulless gaze continued to bore into me. “I’ll make sure they know you didn’t harm any of those women,” he mockingly repeated my words in a falsetto tone, his eyelashes fluttering furiously.
His tone deepened several octaves with his next words.
“God, you both are so pathetic. Grady is such a pussy. And you”—he chuckled—“I have no idea what the fuck he ever saw in you. He followed you around with those sad ass puppy dog eyes and you just ate that shit up like you were some fucking goodie two shoes doing him a favor by letting him sniff around you. For twenty-five years he’s been tracking you down like some desperate fool. I’ve been trying to tell him you didn’t give a shit about him, but he never listens to me. Never has. He still doesn’t realize you couldn’t care less about him. The only person you care about is yourself and those two Feds you’re fucking.”
No way. I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you?”
He gestured to himself in mock-innocence. “Who? Me? You mean I forgot to introduce myself? I hadn’t realized. How rude of me. My name is Jordan. I’m one of Grady’s alters. You know what that is, don’t you, Madeline? I mean being the genius quack doctor you are, right?”
I ignored his dig at my profession. “Yes, I know what that is. How many of you are there?”
He merely smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Are you wondering if they’re all like me? If they don’t take shit from anyone? Or are they all scared and pathetic like Grady?”
“I’m just curious.” I tried to play off my insatiable need to find something to bring either Grady back or, if there was one, another alter. Hopefully one not as psychotic as this one.
Jordan stepped toward me, flashing his insidious smile, the knife in his hand reflecting the firelight. “I think it’s about time we show you the truth. What do you think, Doc?”
Oh my God.
Chapter 25
Joseph
It was like our roles were suddenly reversed. Nat was the calm and collected one, whereas I was raging both inside and out. I was barking at every colleague to get them moving faster toward finding Madeline. It was almost ten, and she’d been missing for five hours. I knew there was no chance I’d be getting any sleep tonight, which meant that most likely no one else was going to be sleeping either. I knew Nat wouldn’t. He’d be the next one in line behind me pushing these people to get us some answers.
Kurt had already volunteered to stay and work on the case, which was where we were headed now. Nat trailed behind me as we made our way to his office. He was located in the basement in the far corner. I had no idea why anyone would want to be that far removed from the rest of the staff and offices, but it obviously suited him fine.
“Tell me you have something, Kurt,” I bit out the minute we entered his domain, bypassing any sort of greeting.
Kurt remained tapping away at his keyboard, not offended in the least by my brusque demand.
“I was able to tap into various street cams and video feeds throughout the city. I caught a few glimpses of your suspect driving a white van with the back windows painted over in white. I got a tag number, but the plates were stolen. The last known spotting was on I-275 heading west out of the city. Unfortunately, after that, I haven’t been able to find him again. But, I’m still working on it and this one other thing.”
My toe tapped in a staccato rhythm matching the sound of his fingers pecking away at the keys. With a final heavy tap with flourish, he mimicked a bomb exploding with his hands and fingers.
“Boom. I got it.” He turned and faced Nat and me. “So, I got a call from the forensics team. They found a partial print inside the house from when the dead woman was found. It wasn’t much, but somehow they got lucky and were able to find a match in the system. It belongs to one Grady Larson, age thirty-seven, born in San Francisco. Mother, alive. Father, deceased. There was actually an investigation into his death in fact. The wife called the police saying she believed their son, Grady, murdered him. He was questioned, but no concrete evidence was found linking him to the crime. The coroner ruled it an accident. The son moved away shortly after the investigation was over, but the mother still lives in Mill Valley, just outside San Francisco.”
“Have you figured out if there’s a connection between Madeline and this Grady?” Nat asked.
Kurt sent an annoyed glance, almost affronted that Nat would doubt his thoroughness. “Of course I did. Apparently, they were in the same fifth grade class at Mill Valley North. The Larson’s had just moved to town and the younger Larson began attending a new school. Your Ms. Parrish was one of his classmates. I located a couple other possible classmates, but unfortunately haven’t been able to reach them.”
Nat smacked him on the back in a congratulatory move. “Your skill amazes me.”
He brushed off the praise. “There’s more. I’m also looking at Larson’s bank records. He gets a direct deposit bi-weekly from his employer, a local cable company. He’s one of their installation technicians, who just happened to not show up for work today according to his supervisor. And get this, I found an unusually large withdrawal last week. Like the majority of his savings account was cleared out. It’s possible he bought the van with cash, which is why the plates are stolen. So, that’s most likely a dead end. I also have his current home address. Our suspect is quite the vagabond. Want to take a guess how often he’s moved over the last four years?”
