Deadly Bonds Read online

  Us was the Society for the Study of the Aberrant Mind, otherwise known as SSAM, a private organization that assisted law enforcement agencies in hunting repeat violent offenders. Another function of SSAM was to teach the public to both recognize danger and avoid it. Holt’s role as a profiler—a mindhunter who delved into the minds of the criminals they hunted—was more focused on detection than prevention.

  “The victim?”

  “Illinois State Senator Roy Beechum.”

  “A politician?” Damn. It would be a particularly sticky case. Profiling potential suspects could be complicated by myriad interested parties with their own agendas.

  “I’m sending you the details now. Head over to the scene ASAP. I want you to get the lay of the land while the coroner’s still there.”

  Holt hung up and surveyed the backyard that was as familiar as his hand. Summer barbecues and winter snowmen. Growing up in the suburbs north of Chicago had given him a childhood blessed with all four seasons and oblivious to the dangers in the real world. His mother was a gardener and landscape designer, constantly surrounded by all things lovely. His father, who’d been a police officer with the Evanston Police Department for thirty-two years before retirement, had, one day when Holt was nine, sat him down and told him all about the dangers of the world. I should do the same thing with Theo. Holt’s throat tightened. Of course, the kid already knew about loss and grief.

  “Holt?” His mother stepped out onto the patio. Her eyes brimmed with concern. “Is everything okay?”

  His heart softened. He shouldn’t have been so hard on his parents. He’d probably given them good reason to worry that he was slipping into a depression. It had been a very real possibility for weeks after Elizabeth’s death, especially as it had followed many months of chemo and radiation. But he was getting his feet under him.

  “Yeah.” He tucked his phone into his pocket. “Just got a new case.”

  “We don’t mean to chase you away by talking about Theo’s future.”

  “It’s just hard to think about the future, period. But I’m starting to. I promise.”

  “We love having Theo here. You know that.” They’d set up the arrangement when Elizabeth’s health had taken a nosedive after the third round of chemo had failed. Theo stayed with Betty and Ron whenever Holt was working odd hours. Luckily, they didn’t live more than fifteen minutes from his place, or from Theo’s school.

  “I know. And I miss seeing him more. I do,” he said when his mother continued looking at him with concern. “But my job is no place for a kid.” And what the hell did that say about his life choices? With Elizabeth around, it had been manageable. Sane. But the kind of hours—and cases—Holt worked weren’t optimal for raising his son alone.

  His mother stepped forward and embraced him. Her lilac scent flooded him with memories of a secure, happy childhood. But the subtle jiggle in his pocket from his phone reminded him Damian’s email, with the details of the horror he would be facing today, had arrived in his inbox.

  He squeezed his mother and stepped away, bending to brush her creamy cheek with a kiss. “I have to go. Duty calls.”

  “We didn’t get to discuss Theo. Sara says—”

  Holt stepped away and moved toward the house. “Sara doesn’t know everything.” When he’d first gotten to know Sara, she’d struck him as intelligent, thoughtful and funny. He’d sensed something special about her. He’d been wrong.

  His mother inhaled sharply, then followed him inside as he retreated from the argument. “She’s excellent as the Academy’s director. And she really cares about Theo. Since you won’t return her calls, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know her while we talk about my grandson’s issues.”

  “Theo doesn’t have any issues. He’s in transition, dealing with a major life change. It’s normal.”

  “Whatever happened between you and Sara and Elizabeth is in the past. Having her in Theo’s life was what Elizabeth wanted.”

  But his trusting mother didn’t know the full score. Before she’d died, Elizabeth had finally forgiven her former best friend, but he didn’t see why he had to.

  “Theo needs you. Sara says he’s had more issues at school. The fact that a bright kid like him even had to take summer school should have told you something was wrong.”

  Holt heaved a sigh. “He seems okay to you, though, right?”

  His mother hesitated before nodding. “He’s okay at home, but at school...”

  “Good. Look, I promise if Theo’s issues worsen, I’ll contact his teachers. Right now, I have to get to work.” He gave his mother a sheepish look.

  She sighed. “You want us to keep Theo for the day?”

  “That would be great. If it weren’t so important...”

  “But it is. One day, though, you’re going to reassess your priorities and realize experiencing every aspect of Theo’s childhood is—or should have been—important too.”

  * * *

  Thankfully, the heat of the summer day didn’t penetrate the stark confines of the concrete building, especially on the basement sublevel. The parking garage was cool, dark and smelled of stale motor exhaust and death.

  The area had been cordoned off by the CPD, an easy feat since the government building the garage lay beneath was closed up tight on the weekends. There were no other cars, no curious bystanders. At least something was going right today.

  As Holt approached the only car and the few people gathered there to process the scene, he nodded to the detective who stood to the side. The other man’s scowl wasn’t exactly a warm-fuzzy greeting. Of course, he’d probably been stuck in this place for hours and now Holt was treading on his territory. Judging by the cold welcome, SSAM must have been called in by one of his superiors. Holt was accustomed to the lack of appreciation of his talents and let the man’s assessment roll off him. In the end, what mattered was apprehending a murderer.

  Behind him, the coroner was squeezing into the passenger seat of a black Mercedes, careful of any evidence, assessing the body in the position it was found before it was removed and taken to the morgue. Talk about up-close and personal.

  Holt offered his hand to the detective. “Dr. Holt Patterson. My specialty is forensic psychology.”

  The detective accepted his hand with a clammy grip. He was shorter than Holt’s six-foot-two, but the guy’s paunch made him twice as wide. “Detective Wayne McDowell. My specialty is catching murderers.” His tone held a degree of sarcasm that Holt chose to ignore.

  “Then let’s get to it.”

  McDowell jerked his head toward the Mercedes. A crime scene technologist circled, taking pictures of the car and the garage. Judging by the coroner’s actions, the body and the car interior had already been extensively photographed and processed. “Victim is Roy Beechum. State senator with an office upstairs. Worked late yesterday. Was found this morning as the weekend cleaning crew arrived. They’ve been questioned and cleared.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “I suppose that’s why you’re here. Ask anybody around here and nobody hated the man. Christ, one of the cleaning ladies was actually in tears when she found out. At forty-five years old, Beechum was young, attractive and relatively competent. What’s not to like? In fact, recent polls showed he has the highest approval rating of any Illinois state senator in history. Happy marriage too. Nineteen years. Nuclear family with a son and daughter in high school. No rumors of shady side dealings, at least nothing we know of yet.”

  “Why didn’t his wife report him missing?”

  “Apparently Beechum was due to leave town last night. She didn’t expect to see or hear from him until today.”

  Holt glanced into the dark recesses of the garage. Sure enough, a camera hung in the corner near the elevator. Hallelujah. “Video surveillance should give us more.”

  “We have some
one processing it.”

  “If you don’t mind, SSAM has an expert who can help out too. Einstein has a lot of experience.”

  “Einstein?”

  “Just a nickname. But an accurate one.”

  McDowell eyed him a moment, then sighed. “Sure. I’ll have someone send a copy over.”

  The coroner was now standing beside the car, pulling his gloves off. The yellowish light of the garage glowed against his bald spot as he joined them. He nodded a hello to Holt before turning his attention to McDowell. “Same signs of struggle, same style wound, same weapon of choice as the previous two scenes. I’d say your guess about this being the same killer has merit.”

  “Fuck. That’s what I thought. Thanks, Rick.” The detective dropped any lingering signs of an attitude as he turned back to Holt. Lines formed across his wide forehead. “We found black fibers under a few of Beechum’s broken nails, but I doubt it’ll lead anywhere. Just like the others. This murderer doesn’t leave any traceable evidence behind, except for what he wants us to find.”

  “Which is?”

  “A hypodermic needle and syringe. Other than the weapon, he’s careful. Methodical. And deadly. Beechum wasn’t the first victim, or the second. And I’m guessing he won’t be the last. That’s why you’re here, Dr. Patterson. We suspect we have a serial killer on our hands, and I’ll be damned if I have any idea who’s next on his list.”

  * * *

  Theo Patterson’s creativity was off the charts but Sara couldn’t say that. Not yet, anyway. As director of the Hills Boys’ Academy, she had to hide her surprise behind a mask of disapproval as he and his science teacher faced off across the desk from her. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and her Monday was veering off a cliff. Summer was supposed to have a more relaxed atmosphere with fewer students around, yet this was Theo’s fourth time in her office. There was clearly more going on here.

  “This—” Mr. Lockhart, a valued professor at the Academy, shook a spiral notebook in Sara’s face, “—is why he’s going to be held back and forced to retake fourth grade. Summer school is his chance to finally pass this class, yet he’d rather doodle about nothing than learn something useful.”

  She bit back the defense that sprang to her lips. The doodles had hardly been aimless. Given Theo’s youth and lack of training, they were amazing. In a comic book format, the boy had created an entire cast of unique characters that told a coherent and compelling story. Sure, it had elements of violence, and she would speak to him about that, but at least the notebook was a healthy outlet.

  Sara took Exhibit A from Lockhart before he could shove it under her nose again and tucked it into a drawer of her desk. Theo’s groan was audible, but one sharp look from her quelled the outburst she knew was brewing. The boy showed signs of his father’s intelligence and his mother’s devil-may-care attitude. Still, she had a soft spot for the son of her best friend. More than that, she’d made a promise before Elizabeth had died.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Lockhart. You can return to your class now.” Sara’s words had the man’s jaw dropping.

  “You’re going to let him get away with this?”

  “Absolutely not. He’s staying so we can have a little chat.”

  “Chat?” Lockhart’s neck turned bright red.

  “I understand how serious this is, and you can be sure I’ll be addressing it.”

  “I’ve spoken to his other teachers, and we all agree his attention span is equal to a gnat’s and nowhere near par for this school. Punishment is the only acceptable recourse.”

  Sara rose from her chair and came around the desk to stand toe-to-toe with Lockhart. Though he had a few inches on her average frame, he took a step back. “As director, my goal is to act in the best interests of the school as well as its students. I assure you, I plan to. I take my job and the reputation of this school very seriously. Don’t ever doubt that. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, uh...no.” Lockhart glared at Theo. “I’ll expect that extra work on my desk by the end of the week.”

  As the door closed behind Lockhart, Sara retreated behind her desk, then dropped into her chair. She picked up the phone and dialed the outer office, where Cheryl, efficient as always, picked up immediately.

  “Shall I hold your calls?” her secretary asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. Sara added mind reader to the list of Cheryl’s talents.

  “Yes, please. Thank you.” She put the phone back on its cradle and eyed Theo.

  After a moment of quiet, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I thought we were going to chat.”

  She didn’t miss the sarcasm slathered in a thick layer over that comment. “We are. But a conversation requires two participants, and our previous experience together suggests you won’t exactly be eager to talk.”

  Theo shrugged. “Not much to say.”

  “I disagree, but I think you’d rather communicate in other ways.” She pulled the notebook from her drawer and laid it on the desk between them. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thanks.” His mumble was reluctant, but she caught the glint of pride in his eyes before he glanced down at his lap. When he looked up again, the seriousness of his gaze immediately brought Holt to mind. Her heart squeezed. “Can I have my notebook back?”

  “No.” Just like that, she felt their tremulous connection break. “At least, not yet. Let’s talk about the content. Your story has a lot of violence.”

  Theo rolled his eyes. “They have to fight. They’re an army of mutants who battle the minions of death. They’re not just going to lie down and take a beating.”

  Sara wondered if Theo realized how his comic illustrated his own frustrations, fears, and pain of the past year and a half. He’d probably channeled all those deep emotions into this creative outlet. “You’re right. It’s hard to fight evil forces without a battle or two. But we don’t approve of violence here at the Academy. I have to be sure you don’t intend to act out any of these fantasies.”

  Theo looked surprised. “I would never hurt anyone for real.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “So, can I have my notebook now?”

  Sara wanted to give in, but there was no better opportunity to connect with Elizabeth’s son. “How about I make you a deal?”

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll return your notebook if you promise me one thing.”

  His response was swift. “Deal.”

  She held up a hand. “You haven’t even heard the deal yet. You’ll meet with me on Friday afternoons, after your summer school class, for the rest of the term.”

  He scowled. “To do extra homework or something?”

  “No. You’ll be working on a special project with me. I hope you’ll share your notebook with me too.”

  “You want me to work on my story?” Surprise chased the frown from his face.

  “Absolutely. But if your grades don’t improve and your teachers don’t stop complaining, we’ll have to chat about other ways to curb your distractions—maybe the extra homework or chores you mentioned. Do we have a deal?”

  “Sure.” Theo accepted the hand she reached across the desk toward him and punctuated the agreement with a tentative smile.

  Again, Sara thought of Holt and his reluctant grins. He’d always been serious in a thoughtful, distracted, studious way. But when he smiled, it seemed to be filled with boyish wonder or mischief. She wished she could forget that smile.

  “So, that’s it?” Theo asked. “That’s my punishment?”

  “Nice try, but there’s more. This is the fourth time you’ve been sent to my office in the last few weeks—”

  “—because my teachers have no sense of humor—”

  “—and I’m seeing a pattern here. A d
isturbing pattern that has to end now, before school rules require I expel you.” She stifled a smile as Theo paled. At least the kid wanted to be here. “Pranks, cutting class, and distractions like comic books...I am going to have to call your dad. He might decide on an additional consequence.”

  “He won’t answer.” Where other kids might have sounded triumphant at the prospect of getting out of further punishment, Theo sounded sad. Worse, she suspected he was right. That certainly had been the case in the previous instances she’d attempted to reach Holt. She’d ended up discussing things with Theo’s grandparents, with whom Theo seemed to spend most of his spare time anyway. At least they’d been concerned and supportive.

  Hoping Theo was wrong this time, she dialed the number she found in his contact information. The phone rang and went to voicemail once again. Holt’s recorded voice requested she leave a message.

  Keep it professional, no matter how much you want to wring his neck. “This is Sara at the Academy. Theo is in my office once again. Please call me at your earliest convenience so we can arrange a parent-teacher conference. It’s imperative that you contact me.” She left her number, hung up and met Theo’s gaze.

  To his credit, Theo didn’t back down, didn’t look away. There was wisdom beyond his years in those hazel eyes, tinged with pain. His shrug was deceptively casual. “Told you.”

  Chapter Two

  August

  The feel of the H&K pistol in Holt’s hand was a comfort. As ex-law enforcement, Ron Patterson had taught his son how to fire a gun—and instilled a healthy respect for the weapon—at an early age. Holt hoped to teach Theo similar lessons one day soon. In the meantime, retreating to the basement of the SSAM building where Damian had constructed a firing range was therapy. Holt had some serious kinks to work out of his mood.

  He’d had his hands on the three supposedly connected murder cases for a couple of weeks now, and most of his attempts to profile the killer had involved reading through the interviews already on file and re-interviewing people linked to the victims. Tedium ad nauseum.