01 Only Fear Page 16

  That’s it. You can do it. Fight the panic. He breathed a sigh of relief as she slid the photographs toward Becca, who was next in line around the table.

  “He strapped the two sisters to opposite walls and made them face each other as he tortured and killed them,” Lorena explained.

  “They were twins?” Maggie asked. “He’s recreating his victims’ worst fears.”

  Lorena confirmed her theory with a humorless smile. “That’s the conclusion I came to, too. They had just finished a semester of school at the local community college, were renting an apartment together, and all reports say they were still, and always had been, inseparable.”

  “So he separated them.” Maggie blew out a breath. “I should have known. He’s been insisting on teaching me about fear all along, I should have known he was doing it with others.”

  “You, however,” Lorena pointed out, “are being stalked. That’s new for him. He’s targeting people associated with you.”

  “Great, so he’s adapting,” Maria muttered.

  “He did this fear thing with the other victims, too?” Maggie asked. “It seems like it would take time, that he’d really have to get to know his victims before he knew what they were afraid of.”

  Was this guy someone Maggie already knew, Ethan wondered. But then, her life had been exposed to the general public in the past year, thanks to the news media.

  Lorena flipped through a large file marked Chicago PD and withdrew more photographs. “These are the other three crime scenes, from ten years ago, here in Chicago,” she said, sliding more photographs toward Maggie. “They took place within a year of each other, each at a separate crime scene within a fifty-mile radius.”

  “Fifty miles is pretty big,” Noah added. “So this guy is definitely able to get around.”

  “As you can see, the murderer wrote Fear me on the walls at each of these scenes. He’s shortened it to Fear at the more recent crime scenes, but we think he was still finding his way back then. The crime scenes were a little more chaotic and—” she paused to clear her throat, “—and gruesome.”

  “It’s as if he couldn’t decide how he wanted to kill them, so he did everything,” Maria added.

  Lorena nodded. “I think he was still discovering what gave him the biggest rush of power. That, or he didn’t know his victims as well, and he tried things until he got the effect he wanted.”

  “What can you tell us about these victims?” Damian asked.

  “All three were young women between the ages of twenty and twenty-three. All were living at home with their parents while they attended college. They were intelligent and popular with their classmates. The murder scenes were abandoned warehouses or buildings around town.” Lorena looked up to survey the table. “They were places where he could make them scream without worrying about interruption or discovery.”

  “All of these women were linked to a university or college setting,” Maggie pointed out.

  “Yes,” Lorena confirmed. “I assume that ties into his teacher-student fantasies.”

  “I appreciate your hard work,” Damian told her as the room fell into silence, digesting her information. “Let us know if you come up with anything more.” His gaze shifted to the detectives. “Do you have anything you’d like to add?”

  Noah fielded the question. “After reviewing the old case files of the first three victims, many of the details were withheld from the press. They were told that Fear me was written on the walls where the victims were found—but not that it was repeated or that it was in blood. That’s how the press adopted the name Fearmonger.”

  “It seems he liked the attention.” Damian looked grim. “He kept the name. He even flaunts it.”

  “There also wasn’t much information released about the murder weapon,” Maria added. “He prefers a knife, but what’s more, he uses a bowie knife. He’s very particular, and the three victims were all killed with it. As was Sharon,” she added. “The criminalists can confirm that now. They’re still working on Deborah Frame’s autopsy, but I’m guessing we’ll find the same weapon was used in all five murders—seven, if you add the Cleveland murders Lorena mentioned.”

  “So unless our perp has an intimate knowledge of these case files—” Noah began.

  “—this is no copycat,” Lorena finished.

  “Okay,” Damian said as the table fell into silence, “let’s get back out there and find this guy. Noah and Maria are investigating Sharon’s murder, and now Deborah’s. Lorena will continue to profile and consult with the FBI about these murders, as well as looking for other murders that may match our killer’s pattern. Becca, you get your hands on these ‘pen pal’ letters Owen sent Deborah Frame and get them to Lorena. Maybe she’ll catch something else in them. Everyone, keep your eyes open. This guy may pop up at any time. He seems more and more desperate to gain Maggie’s attention.” He turned his attention to Ethan. “I won’t tell you how to do your job. I think you know what you need to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” Stick to Maggie. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

  The moment everyone began to rise, Maggie headed out the door. Ethan followed, grabbing her gently by the arm and guiding her into his office, away from the ladies’ room where he suspected she’d been headed.

  “Let go,” she bit out between gritted teeth as she tried to pull away. He only tugged harder, and she gave in, sinking into a chair in his office as he shut the door and squatted down beside her. “You must think I’m such a wimp.”

  He thought nothing of the sort. “I think you’re brave.” He took her hand, stopping her from absently rubbing her chest. “I think you’re smart.” He kissed the hand he held and set it gently in her lap. “And I think you’re strong.”

  Leaning forward, he kissed her lips lightly, trying to convey comfort and confidence. With a moan, she leaned forward and opened her mouth to his, letting him in.

  Her soft surrender unhinged him, and something shifted deep inside, pushing against his breastbone. Unable to keep things tender as the blood pounded through his body, he slanted his mouth against hers and took what he wanted. She seemed to need his power, his fierceness, because she responded in kind. Her tongue danced with his as her arms wrapped around his neck. She pulled him closer, deepening their contact as her breasts pressed against his chest.

  His breath hitched. It was like kissing a lightning bolt—suddenly all heat and passion and electricity. He wondered if he’d ever be the same.

  She moaned again, her fingers sliding into the hair at his nape and making him shiver. “More,” she said against his lips, bucking her hips against him where he knelt in front of her. He sensed her need for sanity, her desire for alternate feelings to conquer the fear swarming in her head. He obliged her, stroking his hands up and down her sides, brushing his thumbs against the sides of her breasts and making her arch into him.

  The urge to pull her from her chair and to the floor where he could cover her body with his and take what he wanted was nearly overpowering, but he resisted. It was too much too fast.

  And there were about a dozen people on the other side of his office door, just down the hall. He clung to that thought, reining in the needs that pounded through him. Still, he continued to kiss Maggie, wanting her to be the one to end it.

  When Maggie finally pulled away with a shaky smile, her lips looked deliciously plump and red. He wished they were at his place, where he could continue their passionate play. But wishing was futile.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever done that,” she said in breathless wonder. She touched his face. “Lost myself. Let myself lose control.” He saw her eyes dim at that thought and spoke quickly to cover her anxiety.

  “You didn’t lose control. You found it again.”

  Her mouth twisted wryly. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. Do you have a degree in reverse psychology?”

  “Graduate level,” he responded with a grin.

  A knock at the door had him standing, giving her some distanc
e as she ran a hand over her hair. He wished she’d always keep the sexy, rumpled, just-kissed look. He wanted to make it his personal mission in life.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Becca said as Ethan pulled open the door. She met him with an overly bright smile that didn’t match her piercing gaze, as if she knew just what had happened here.

  “I don’t think you’re sorry at all,” he muttered. No, she probably enjoyed catching him doing something he shouldn’t, something he’d lectured her on.

  Don’t get personally involved with your job.

  And after he’d given her hell for how she’d done her job, he was the one caught with his pants down, so to speak.

  Becca summoned a smile of innocence. “I’m here to protect and serve.” She looked pointedly at Maggie. “It’s my job to protect against any threats. And I take my job very seriously.”

  Suddenly her smile didn’t seem so sunny anymore. Ethan shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, like some schoolboy caught planting stink bombs in the girls’ room toilets.

  “Maggie, did you want to go home and change before dinner with your family?” Becca asked.

  Still looking wonderfully rumpled and slightly bemused, Maggie nodded. She turned to Ethan. “You are coming tonight, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Becca will escort you to the restaurant. I plan to go there early to check things out.” As Maggie walked past him, he touched her arm to stop her. Becca waited in the hallway, just out of earshot. He leaned forward, catching the soft sunshine scent of her hair as he staked his claim. “You’re coming home with me tonight, so pack your things at Becca’s.”

  Her gaze locked with his. He could almost see the unspoken questions winging through her head, but there was heat there, too. Ethan held his breath, waiting. Then she smiled. Maybe she’d seen the determination in his eyes, and that he would not be persuaded otherwise. But then, maybe her intelligence and psychiatric training had helped her see just how much he needed to protect her.

  Needed her, period.

  “Go with Becca.” He nudged her toward the door. “Get some rest.”

  “You’re going to get some rest, too, right?”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to track down the florist who delivered that bouquet first. See if I can find that kid, Kenny, and get a description of our guy.”

  She dug in her heels. “I’m coming with you.”

  He started to object but saw argument would be futile. At least she’d be by his side, where he could keep a watchful eye on her. “Fine. Let’s go. I’ll drop you off at Becca’s after.”

  Noah soaked up his surroundings. It was the typical college student dorm room, with the typical feminine touches of a typical young woman. Sharon Moss had apparently had a busy life and a generous heart. Textbooks from her speech and communications classes lined the desk on her side of the room. Her roommate, Mindy, sat on one of the twin-size beds, sadness in her eyes as she watched Noah and Maria sort through Sharon’s things.

  “What do you think you’ll find?” Mindy had agreed to stick around in case they had questions.

  Noah turned from the book he’d been flipping through to face the young woman. She sat cross-legged on her bed, which was identical to and directly across the room from Sharon’s, hugging her pillow.

  “Did you know Sharon long?” he asked.

  “We have been—had been—” she corrected with a gulp, “—rooming together for over a year now, since we met in sophomore year.”

  He tried a gentle smile and sat on the other end of Mindy’s bed. “Sounds like you two were close.”

  She nodded, her ponytail bobbing with the movement. Her eyes were red from crying, as was the tip of her nose. “Even went to her parents’ house for the holidays last December when I couldn’t afford to go home.” She sniffed, a ghost of a smile playing about her lips as she apparently remembered a happy time. “She was a really good friend. Her boyfriend’s going to be devastated when he finds out.”

  “Boyfriend?” Noah caught Maria’s glance from where she looked through desk drawers. They’d been wondering how Sharon had been lured or taken by Fearmonger without a trace, so late on a Tuesday night. David, another devastated friend of Sharon’s, told them he’d walked her to her dorm after they got off work at a little after midnight. But sometime between one and three early Wednesday morning, Sharon had left her dorm room again. Her roommate had stayed at a friend’s that night, so she couldn’t provide a time frame. But they knew, because of the phone call Fearmonger had placed to Maggie, that Sharon had been killed right around four that same morning.

  “She’d been seeing someone new. She was really excited about him, but I was gone the first summer-school session. Just got here last week and so I haven’t met him yet.

  “Does this guy have a name?”

  “Christopher. That’s all I know. Except that he’s really built, and a little older than Sharon. I guess he worked in some job that used his muscles or something. Sharon talked about how sexy his chest was. She said he was ripped.”

  Maria turned on Sharon’s desktop computer and waited for it to start up. “I don’t suppose she has any pictures of this guy?” She examined the corkboard, to which several pictures, club brochures, and campus flyers were tacked.

  “No.” Mindy’s brow crinkled. “You know, I thought that was a little strange, except that she’d only been dating him a few weeks.”

  “And he hasn’t been back since her death? Hasn’t tried to call or anything?”

  She shook her head. “No. I thought that was a little weird, too, but maybe he’s just upset. I mean, her death was on the news, so he probably heard.”

  Noah handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please call us.” He went to look over Maria’s shoulder at the computer screen. “Anything?”

  She shook her head, dropping her voice so Mindy couldn’t hear. “Nothing. The guy didn’t send her any emails. No messages on her cell phone, either, according to the SSAM communications guy who took a look. But if her boyfriend is Fearmonger, which is a big ‘if,’ he’d be very careful about leaving any traces. When he called Maggie’s house the night he broke in and vandalized her place, he used a payphone across from campus.”

  “Still, we’ll get her phone records. See if anything jumps out at us.” He put his hands on his hips. “The campus seems to be a central theme here.”

  Maria nodded. “It certainly does, but that’s probably because Maggie is a central theme and spends so much of her time on campus. Although the other victims were all college girls. Is he meeting them at college?”

  “Maybe. I’ll see about getting a list of registered students, professors and employees at the various schools these girls attended. See if any names coincide, or if anyone named Owen or Christopher stands out as a red flag.” He glanced up at the corkboard again. A business card was nearly covered with a picture of Sharon with her friends. He carefully removed the picture to look at the card. “I think I know why he cut off her nose,” he muttered to Maria. He turned back to Mindy. “Was Sharon considering plastic surgery?”

  The roommate looked up in surprise. “Yes, a few months ago. She’d thought about it, but she was still comparing the pros and cons. She thought her nose was lopsided or something. I kept telling her she looked fine, but she seemed obsessed. Until she found a story about a botched job that made a woman look like a freak.” She shook her head. “She didn’t mention it much after that, but she was always worried about her appearance.”

  Noah nodded, satisfied one mystery was explained, and turned to tack the card back to the board. “So that was something she feared. Botched plastic surgery, or simply imperfection. I’ll let Lorena know.” He paused in the process of pushing in the tack, spying a key ring with one key and a small black square device attached hanging from another tack.

  Maria followed the direction of his gaze. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Noah took the key ring and turned
it over in his hand. “I don’t think Sharon would have much use for one of these, living here in the dorm. I think we may have just solved another little mystery.”

  Ethan pulled his car to the curb in front of the flower shop. Along the wall on the sidewalk were several large white buckets full of colorful bouquets. Maggie could smell their sweet scent as she got out of the car.

  “Let me handle this,” he said. “I didn’t want you to come along in the first place.”

  “That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside,” she said, trailing behind him. A small bell jangled overhead as he pushed open the door.

  “Can I help you?” an elderly man stepped out from behind the counter, an apron covering his jeans and polo shirt.

  “I’m Ethan Townsend. I phoned earlier about a delivery for Dr. Levine.”

  “Didn’t Todd get that to you?” The man muttered something about “new kids” under his breath.

  “I got it just fine,” Maggie said, stepping around Ethan with a smile. Ethan groaned, but she refused to look at him. Her mother always told her you could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Ethan was definitely exuding more sour than sweetness lately. But then, the poor man hadn’t had much sleep either. “The arrangement was beautiful, Mr….”

  “Maurice,” he said, his attitude doing an abrupt about-face. He extended his hand. “Just Maurice is fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Levine. My wife listens to your show all the time.” He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “She has bouts of insomnia.”

  “Thank you. Tell her I really appreciate that. My friend and I are looking for the person who sent the bouquet.”

  The man’s furry, caterpillar-like brows slammed together. “I thought that was on the card.”

  She looked to Ethan, but he gave the “go-ahead” gesture with his hands that meant he would be no help. She was on her own. Well, she’d defied his orders. She’d have to deal with his grumpiness.

  She faked a sheepish smile. “It seems I have a secret admirer. And I’d really like to figure out who it is.”

  The man chuckled. “Now that’s a different story.” He grinned at Ethan. “Jealous boyfriend, huh?” He moved back behind the counter, speaking again before Ethan could correct him. “Now I understand. Let me see if I have any receipts. But,” he said, arching a thick brow at Ethan, “I wouldn’t want to get this person in trouble. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.”