The Killer Next Door
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Amanda Stevens
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15,2K
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12
There's a serial killer on the loose… And the body count is rising. Getting laid up with a broken ankle and placed on leave could not have happened at a worse time for Detective Sydney Shepherd. Enter former cop turned private investigator Trent Gannon, who believes her current investigation dovetails with his cold case. There is a complex past and deep emotions between Sydney and Trent. But when there's another victim, they agree to shelve their undeniable attraction and team up to collect evidence to connect the dots between the cases. Increasingly all indications point to Sydney's next-door neighbor as the prime suspect. Will Sydney and Trent be the next casualties?
Chapter One
Suspended.
The dreaded word reverberated like a drumbeat inside Detective Sydney Shepherd’s head, keeping time with the dull throb from her concussion. Her stomach churned as she mentally replayed the high-speed chase that had culminated in a single-vehicle car crash and a trip to the nearest ER in Seaside, Texas.
Even now she shuddered at the weightless sensation of being airborne and then the sickening crunch of metal against pavement as her vehicle rolled not once but twice before coming to a spinning stop that had left her battered, disoriented and upside down. A cacophony of honking horns and screeching brakes had finally propelled her into action. Untangling herself from the seat belt, she’d climbed through the shattered window to make sure no one else had been injured.
Later at the hospital, the ER doctor had been blunt. You’re lucky to be alive, young lady.
Yeah, no kidding. Not that she needed his censure. She’d done nothing but berate herself since crawling through that broken window.
What were you thinking, pursuing a vehicle at that speed?
I was thinking I wanted to catch a killer before he fled the country. I was thinking I wanted to wipe that smug smile from Gabriel Mathison’s face once and for all. I was thinking of that moment when I could finally slap the cuffs on his wrists and read him his rights.
Liar. You weren’t thinking at all. You let adrenaline and obsession take the wheel. You’re damn lucky to be alive and even more fortunate that you didn’t kill or maim someone else in the process.
Maybe death wouldn’t have been such a bad option, she decided. Which was worse—living with the nagging torment of what could have happened or the sinking dread of what was about to happen?
Not to mention the fiery agony of a fractured ankle and the suffocating pressure from a bruised rib. It hurt to talk, it hurt to cough, it hurt to breathe. She lay flat on her back and stared at the ceiling in gloomy silence. You deserve every bit of this misery. Thanks to you, Gabriel Mathison is now untouchable. He’s probably out there at this very moment celebrating his victory.
“Syd? Did you hear what I said?”
She dropped her gaze from the ceiling to the middle-aged man at the foot of the bed. Drawing a painful breath, she released it slowly. “Yes, I heard you. You said I’m suspended without pay, pending a full investigation.”
“I said more than that.” For a moment, Lieutenant Dan Bertram let his professional demeanor slip, and a fatherly concern flickered across his careworn features. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
She used every ounce of her strength not to groan. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
His tone turned gruff. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Pretend you’re unbreakable. This is me you’re talking to. I used to patch up your skinned knees when you were little. You don’t always have to be the toughest cop in the room.”
Yes, I do. Not everyone is like you.
Even in this day and age, there were those in the department who would relish the chance to cut her down to size if they caught even a shred of vulnerability. The suit of armor she’d donned in the academy had eventually become a second skin, one never to be shed on duty or off. But she decided to throw the lieutenant a bone. “Okay, even my eyeballs hurt. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“If it’s the truth. When I got the call—” he paused as a myriad of emotions flashed across his features “—they sent me a photo of your car. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked through that door.”
“I’m sorry to worry you. The doctor says I’ll be fine.”
“Thank God for that.” He seemed to wear the weight of the world on his slumping shoulders as he stood gazing down at her. His uniform was starting to tug across the middle and beneath his receding hairline, his brow had deepened into a perpetual scowl. He’d been divorced for nearly a decade, but he still sometimes fiddled with an imaginary wedding ring when he was worried or deep in thought. Before Sydney’s dad had died, the two men had been partners and later close friends. Dan Bertram had been the nearest thing she’d had to a doting uncle long before he’d become her mentor and finally her commander. He expected a lot from her, and his obvious disappointment was a hard pill for Sydney to swallow.
“It could have been worse,” she said.
“Much worse,” he agreed. “You’re young. You’ll heal. And the suspension isn’t permanent.”
“We both know that’s a mere formality. Even if by some miracle I’m allowed to stay on the force, I’ll be busted down to patrol or desk duty. I’ll never be allowed anywhere near the Criminal Investigations Unit again. Richard Mathison will see to that. He promised to rain hell down upon me if I went after his son. It wasn’t an idle threat.”
“Yet, you went after him anyway.”
“I followed the evidence. You would have done the same.”
The lieutenant sighed. “We’re talking about you right now and the consequences of your actions. I’ll ask the chief to have a word with Mathison. They’re old friends. Maybe she can get him to call off the dogs. Avoiding a lawsuit will go a long way toward rehabilitating your reputation within the department.”
Sydney wasn’t buying it. “Why would the chief go out on a limb for me? Why would you, for that matter? You’ve got your own career to consider.”
“Don’t worry about me. I know how to protect myself. As to why... I made a promise years ago that I’d look out for you, and I don’t go back on my word. Besides—” a rare smile tugged at his cheeks “—I see something of my younger self in you. I know what it’s like to have a fire in your belly. That burning need to make a name for yourself. I know how dangerous it can be, too. Your dad cut me a break once when I was still green and ambitious, and I’m willing to do the same for you on one condition.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What?”
“Use your recovery time to reflect on your choices. I’m dead serious about that. You need to reevaluate your priorities. Your dad set a high bar, and no one knows better than I the difficulty of living up to Tom Shepherd’s standards.” The lieutenant leaned in. “But here’s the thing you need to remember. He wasn’t born a hero. His legacy wasn’t created overnight. He made mistakes along the way just like everyone else. You’ve been a detective for less than two years. You’ve still got a lot to learn. If Tom were here now, he’d be the first to tell you that patience and discretion are virtues. You have to know when to back off.”
The advice didn’t sit well with Sydney. She didn’t like being manipulated, and she didn’t believe for a moment that her dad would have let a guy like Gabriel Mathison walk because his family had clout and money. “You mean back off when the suspect has a wealthy father who also happens to be a member of the town council?”
The lieutenant’s demeanor hardened in the face of her defiance. “It’s called politics. Living to fight another day. You let your emotions get the better of you this time. You became so single-minded in your pursuit of Gabriel Mathison that you allowed him to goad you into making it personal.”
Anger bubbled despite her best efforts. She took a calming breath and counted to ten. “Mathison thinks he’s above the law. He thinks he can get away with murder because of who his father is. You and I both know he killed Jessica King. He attacked her with a blunt force instrument, strangled her while she lay unconscious and dumped her body on the side of the road. Then he partied with his friends for the rest of the night. If that isn’t cold-blooded, I don’t know what is.”
“Knowing and proving are two different things. And, unfortunately, those same friends have given him an alibi for the time in question.”
“Then we need to break them. We need to persuade one of them to come forward and tell the truth.”
“You’ve tried that already.”
“Obviously, I didn’t try hard enough. That’s on me.” She paused to tamp down her emotions yet again. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but what if I’m right? What if Jessica King wasn’t his first victim? He has a violent history that his father has worked very hard to conceal. What if Gabriel Mathison was the perpetrator of at least two other unsolved homicides in the past year?”
Her steely resolve deepened his scowl. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it. That’s the kind of overreach that got you into trouble in the first place.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because your actions suggest otherwise.” She tried to protest, but he put up a hand to halt her. “Just listen for once. I stuck my neck out for you. You were allowed to take lead on the Jessica King case at my request. Your first homicide investigation should have been a big opportunity for you, but you went too far. You couldn’t nail Mathison on the case you were assigned, so you started digging for connections that were at best weak and at worst far-fetched. You acted impulsively, some might say irrationally, and now here we are.”
His frank assessment of her performance was like a dagger through her heart. Turning her head to the narrow window, she fixed her gaze on the parking lot while blinking back hot tears. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that the victim’s best friend was transferred to another state after claiming Jessica was afraid of Gabriel? Or that the witness who saw a physical altercation between Gabriel and Jessica the night she was murdered suddenly decided to recant her story? Richard Mathison is cleaning up his son’s mess just like he’s always done. Why would he go to all that trouble if Gabriel is innocent? Three victims in the past year, all strangled, their bodies found along the interstate just miles from the Mathison beach house. I suppose that’s also a coincidence.”
“Think about what you just said. Why would he dispose of bodies so close to his family’s property?”
She turned back to him. “Why not, if he thinks he’s untouchable?”
“Okay.” The lieutenant’s voice became deceptively calm, but any hint of patience or support had long since vanished. “Let’s go through this one more time. The first victim was found in the trunk of an abandoned car, the second a few months later in a shallow grave. Both had been bound and strangled, both had close ties to the drug trade. That’s a dangerous lifestyle. Executions are as common as handshakes. Jessica King was an associate at a respected law firm. She came from a good family with no known ties to the cartels or any other criminal enterprise. Despite your efforts to the contrary, you haven’t been able to link her murder to the other two homicides.”
“Except for how she was murdered. Two strangulations might be a coincidence, but three is a pattern,” Sydney insisted.
“You’re doing it again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Her chin came up. “All I know is that sweeping inconvenient facts under the rug won’t make them go away. Something very real and very dark is happening in our little community. A killer is out there preying on young women. I don’t know how or why, but every instinct is telling me that Gabriel Mathison is somehow involved.”
“That kind of talk doesn’t leave this room, Detective.” The formality of his admonishment underscored his warning. He was no longer a caring friend or even a concerned mentor, but a commanding officer putting her on notice. “The last thing we want is to scare people into thinking we have an active serial killer in the area.
“As for Mathison—” he straightened and returned to the foot of her bed “—he’s no longer your concern. Under no circumstances will you make contact with him. If you pass him on the street, look the other way. From this moment forward, that man is dead to you. Am I clear?”
She swallowed a retort and nodded.
“Keep your mouth shut and your head down until this situation is resolved one way or another. In the meantime, I would advise that you give some thought to what you’ll say if and when you go before the review board. Don’t get defensive and don’t be afraid to show remorse. A little humility can go a long way.”
Defiance crept into her reply despite her best efforts. “Even when I know I’m right?”
His icy glare spoke volumes. “Learn to play the game, or get used to writing parking tickets.”
SYDNEY CONTEMPLATED THE lieutenant’s warning while she waited for the doctor to return. Depending on the results of the CT scan, she could be released as soon as her broken bone was set. That was her hope, at least. A night in the hospital was the last thing she wanted. The teeming misery of the emergency room made her long for the quiet sanctuary of her tiny garage apartment.
She also needed access to her laptop. As luck would have it, she’d downloaded her case notes to the hard drive, enabling her to continue a virtual investigation while she recuperated at home. The powers that be could remove her physically from the case and muzzle her contacts within the department, but they had no control over what she did on her own time in the privacy of her own home.
You’re doing it again, Syd. The lieutenant’s admonishment lingered like a bitter aftertaste. You just can’t help yourself, can you?
Okay, so maybe he was right. A little reflection might be warranted after such a monumental screwup. Maybe she had allowed herself to become obsessed and single-minded. Maybe she did need to take a step back and regroup. But soul-searching had never been her strong suit. An honest evaluation required owning up to several unpleasant peccadillos, including a tendency toward hubris.
It didn’t matter that her pride and arrogance came from a place of self-doubt. Deep down, she was daunted by the expectation of living up to her father’s legacy and bedeviled by the fear that she would never escape his shadow. Her particular combination of fervency and aloofness was off-putting. She had no real friends, no close relationships. Even her own mother kept her distance. But that particular rabbit hole was an exploration for another day.
A nurse came in a little while later to recheck her vitals and to inform her that she was being moved to a private room. When Sydney expressed dismay, he gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be out of here before you know it. For now, though, we’d like to keep an eye on you overnight. As soon as the order comes through, someone will be in to take you upstairs. But that may be a while, so just sit tight, okay? We don’t want to lose you in all the confusion.”
Sydney couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
While she waited alone in the tiny room, she practiced visualizing the pain leaving her body in a wisp of gray-green smoke. Guided imagery sometimes helped with the tension headaches she brought home from work. Normally, she tried to avoid strong painkillers, but right now she’d give her last paycheck for a shot of something to knock her out.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the imagery of that coil of smoke, she lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Surprisingly, she managed to drift off. She had the strangest dream about being wheeled into a section of the hospital under construction and left to fend for herself. When she tried to get up from the gurney, she discovered her wrists and ankles were shackled to the metal bed rails. She couldn’t move or call for help. All she could do was watch in horror as a masked surgeon, whose eyes looked an awful lot like Gabriel Mathison’s, materialized at her side with arms outstretched toward her neck.
She awoke on a gasp, her hand to her throat.
“You okay?” a voice asked from the doorway.
She turned her head toward the sound. A man stood just inside the room reading a file he’d plucked from the plastic holder on the door. He also wore a mask, but his head was bowed to the chart, so she couldn’t see his eyes.
Her pulse accelerated as she watched him. He wasn’t the doctor who had examined her earlier, and he didn’t appear to be a nurse or attendant. He didn’t look as if he belonged in the hospital at all, dressed as he was in faded jeans, sneakers and a plaid shirt that he wore open over a gray T-shirt. It came to her in a flash that he might be someone the Mathisons had sent to finish her off. She wanted to laugh at her imagination, but knowing what she knew about that family, the notion didn’t seem that absurd.
She tried to project authority into her voice. “Who are you?”
He didn’t glance up. “I just came by to see how you’re doing.”
“Are you a doctor?” Something about his voice, about the way he kept his head lowered just enough so that she couldn’t get a good look at him... “Where’s Dr. Parnell?”
“I’m sure he’ll be along soon.” He dropped the file back in the holder and turned. “How’s the pain?”
“Manageable.” She gripped the edge of the bed, realizing how completely at this stranger’s mercy she was. She couldn’t run, much less fight, though she wouldn’t go down without trying. “Who are you again?”
He strode into the room as if he had every right in the world to be there. When he got to the foot of the bed, he removed the paper mask and stuffed it in his shirt pocket.
She gaped at him in astonishment. “Trent Gannon?”
His gaze raked her from head to toe. “You remember my name. I’d say that’s a good sign considering the head injury.”
She swallowed back her shock. “Not necessarily. Some people are hard to forget under any circumstances.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.” She forced her gaze to remain steady when she really wanted to glance away from the boldness of his gray eyes. Of all the disgraced former police detectives to come strolling into her room. “How did you get back here anyway? They have restrictions on who can come and go from this area.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always found that if you act like you belong, most people are reluctant to question you.”
“Someone should speak to security about that,” she muttered. Trent Gannon. She shook her head in disbelief. How long had it been anyway? She’d lost track of him years ago. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“I was visiting a friend in the hospital. He had the TV on, and I heard your name mentioned in conjunction with a high-speed chase that ended in a crash. The local news showed a picture of the car.” He gave a low whistle. “That’s one less vehicle in the city fleet.”
“So you came by to gloat?”
He lifted a brow at her curt tone. “Do you really think I’d take pleasure in someone else’s misfortune?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you remember what you said to me the last time we met face-to-face?”
“That wasn’t one of my better days.” He moved back so that he could lean a shoulder against the wall. Disgraced or not, his presence filled that tiny room, so much so that Sydney found it a little difficult to catch her breath. She resisted the urge to pull the sheet up to her chin even though she was still fully clothed. “I’d just surrendered my shield and firearm and packed up my desk. I said a lot of things to a lot of people on my way out. But that was a long time ago. Water under the bridge as they say. I don’t hold a grudge.”
Sydney bristled. “I should hope not, considering everything that happened was your fault. You had to know you were risking your career when you decided to show up drunk to a crime scene.”
Something that might have been regret flickered in his eyes. “When someone starts drinking on the job, they usually aren’t thinking too clearly, period.”
“I guess not.” She hesitated, then said in a softer tone, “For the record, no one enjoyed watching your downfall.”
His smile turned wry. “I don’t know if that’s entirely true.”
“It is. A lot of people covered for you for as long as they could. Longer than they should have.”
His smile disappeared. “But not you.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “I had no choice. I was asked point-blank by my commanding officer what I witnessed at that crime scene. I had to tell the truth. You were becoming a danger to yourself and others.”
“You did the right thing.”
His response took her aback. He wasn’t at all the way she remembered him. He’d once been considered the best detective in the Criminal Investigations Unit, someone who commanded respect and admiration from his peers and superiors alike. But at the height of his career, he’d already displayed a tendency to self-destruct. Considering the gossip and her memory of his ignominious departure, she would have expected an attack on her character or, at the very least, pushback on her recall of events. Instead, his easy acceptance of her criticism left her momentarily speechless.
In the ensuing silence, she tried to study his demeanor without being obvious. She’d once found Trent Gannon attractive, but that was back when he was still a hotshot detective with an unparalleled record for closing cases. His downward spiral had changed her perception of him, and in time he’d become a cautionary tale. Now she found herself unsettled by the similarities to her current trajectory.
“As you said, it was a long time ago,” she murmured, for lack of anything better to offer.
“Three years can seem like a lifetime. I was headed down a bad path. It took me a long time to admit that you actually did me a favor. Losing my job made me take a cold, hard look at myself. I knew I needed to make changes. First, I had to stop drinking. I woke up one morning and decided to quit cold turkey.”
“That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t, but probably not as hard as you imagine. I don’t say that to diminish the hell others go through to get and stay sober. For me, booze was always more of a crutch than a craving. A liquid bandage. I didn’t miss it after I quit. I sure as hell didn’t miss the hangovers.”
Why had she never wondered before what had driven him to drink? Why had she never been curious enough to ask? Too caught up in her own ambition, she supposed. She felt ashamed now to admit that her initial thought upon his departure from the department was that a spot in the Criminal Investigations Unit had finally opened up.
“I’m glad you’re doing well,” she said and meant it, though she wasn’t sure if she believed him. Had he really changed his ways? His careless appearance would suggest otherwise. “It’s admirable that you turned your life around, but I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me. We haven’t spoken since you left. We were barely acquaintances even back then. Now here you are acting as if we’re long-lost friends. I’d like to know why.”
The inscrutable look he gave her sent a shiver of alarm down her spine. “It’s simple. You helped me once. I’d like to return the favor.”
“How?”
He came around to the side of the bed and pulled up a stool. “May I?” He sat without waiting for her consent. His nearness made her even more uneasy, but she didn’t want to call attention to her distress by asking him to leave. If he was here to make amends, she didn’t want to be the one to set him back.
She scanned his features, noting the fine lines around his eyes and mouth, the hairstyle that had grown a little too shaggy and the clothing that had seen better days. She wondered suddenly what his life had been like since he left the department. No one ever talked about him. It was as if Trent Gannon had vanished into thin air when he walked out the door that day.
“I’ve been following your case,” he said. “For what it’s worth coming from me, I think you’re right about Gabriel Mathison. Something is off about that guy. There’ve been rumors about him for years and how he likes to play rough with women. I don’t know if he killed his girlfriend, but he’s hiding something.”
He had her full attention now. “What do you mean? Give me specifics.”
He quelled her excitement. “I can’t. It’s instinct more than anything else. A gut feeling after watching his body language at his father’s press conference. I’m still pretty good at reading people.”
“Richard Mathison gave a press conference? That was fast. And...not good,” she fretted. “For me, at least.”
Trent nodded. “They played it off as improvised, but everyone knows he has the local media in his pocket. Not just the media. Plenty of important people in this town owe him favors. Some of them work for the police department. I’ve seen firsthand how evidence can disappear and witnesses will clam up after a single phone call from his office. But the kind of money that can be used to bribe and coerce can also make people arrogant and careless. Gabriel Mathison doesn’t have his father’s discipline. He’s not capable of committing the perfect murder. If he’s guilty, sooner or later, he’ll let something slip. He’ll talk to the wrong person. His ego won’t allow him to remain silent.”
She said on a resigned sigh, “I hope you’re right, but I won’t be the one to bring him in. I’ve been removed from the investigation and suspended without pay. If I go near Gabriel Mathison, I face termination and possibly a lawsuit.” She cast a worried glance toward the hallway door. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about the case.”
He lowered his voice. “I understand. They’ve put you on a short leash. Forget the nuts and bolts of the investigation. Tell me about the accident.”
“Why?”
“I’d just like to hear from you what happened.”
Sydney still didn’t trust his motives. What if this amiable side of Trent Gannon was an act to disguise his vendetta? What if he was here to take advantage of her current vulnerability to somehow hasten her downfall? Anything was possible, but for the time being, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt if for no other reason than the conversation distracted her from the searing pain in her ankle.
“I received an anonymous call that a plane was fueled and waiting on a private airstrip to fly Mathison across the border,” she said. “Long story short, I staked out his place and then followed him onto the interstate when he left his house. He accelerated. I accelerated. Next thing I knew, a third vehicle came out of nowhere and cut me off. I swerved, hit the shoulder and rolled.”
“Do you think you were set up?”
“I’ve wondered about that. But how could he have been so certain I’d take the bait, let alone that I’d lose control of my vehicle?”
“He knew you wouldn’t take a chance on letting him leave the country. The third car was either meant to take you out or make the pursuit appear more dangerous and reckless than it was. Even without the crash, a high-speed chase would have been enough to trigger an investigation into your conduct. You likely would have been removed from the case regardless.”
Sydney grimaced. “He outmaneuvered me. The lieutenant was right. I let my emotions get the better of me, and now I’m stuck in here while he’s out there free to do as he pleases.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Trent said. “If you’re willing to take a chance on me, I can help you nail him. I can be your eyes and ears and even your driver until you’re up and around and able to navigate on your own.”
His offer stunned her. She searched for a telltale crack or twitch in his features as she wondered yet again why he’d turned up out of the blue the way he had. It couldn’t be as simple as making amends. “As intriguing as I find the offer, you’ll understand why I’m a little concerned about your motive.”
“I just want to help.”
Did he? “Even if I wanted or needed your help, I’m not allowed to go anywhere near Gabriel Mathison. If I so much as glance at him sideways, my suspension becomes permanent.”
“True, but I’m a private citizen. I can do whatever I want within the law. Besides—” he leaned forward, his eyes still shadowed with something she couldn’t read “—we both know you are never going to let this go, regardless of the consequences.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
A faint smile flickered. “I know a driven person when I see one. I’m offering you a way around your suspension. I do all the legwork and conduct the interviews. Your hands stay clean.”
She frowned. “What do you want in return?”
He got up and moved back to the foot of the bed, as if what he had to say required a little distance. “For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been doing a deep dive into a series of murders that occurred in Southeast Texas from the late 1990s through the early 2000s. Roughly a quarter of a century ago. The bodies of seven young women were found in as many years along the I-45 corridor from Houston to Galveston. Are you familiar with those cases?”
“No, but I would have been a little kid back then. I was in kindergarten during the whole Y2K thing.”
He nodded. “I was a few years older, but I didn’t remember them, either, until I recently interviewed a retired Houston police detective on my podcast. He said—”
She cut him off. “Hold on. Your podcast?”
He looked amused. “Not what you expected from a former drunk?”
Hardly. Never in a million years would she have associated Trent Gannon with anything remotely connected to a podcast or social media in general. If someone had told her that he’d been found dead in a ditch somewhere or that he was serving time in a state penitentiary, yeah. Either of those scenarios would have been more believable.
His smile turned deprecating. “I’ll admit, it’s not the career I would have chosen for myself, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I started the podcast as a side hustle after I was fired. A way to make a few bucks while drumming up business for my private detective agency—”
She cut him off a second time. “You’re a private detective now? Since when?”
“Since I needed to eat and pay bills and no one would hire me,” he said with brutal honesty. “I was more surprised than anyone when the podcast took off, but that’s a story for another day.”
She took a moment to digest his revelations and to adjust her perception of him. Not dead in a ditch or serving time, but a man who’d pulled himself up from a very dark place and carved out a new career for himself. Would she have the courage to do the same?
He gave her a knowing look as if he could tell what she was thinking. “Should I go on?”
She nodded.
“The MO on those cases was all over the place. Shootings, stabbings, strangulations—”
“Strangulations?” Sydney bolted upright despite the bruised rib. Then she clutched her side and eased back down. “Sorry. Please continue.”
“Different causes of death and bodies found in different locations. No apparent similarities or connections among the victims. No physical resemblances other than an age range. Nothing in common except for the fact that their murders went unsolved. By every indication, the homicides were random. Each case was investigated individually by the appropriate jurisdiction. Despite the disparities, a detective assigned to one of the cases began to suspect a single killer was responsible and requested assistance from the FBI. The information gathered from the various law enforcement agencies was consolidated and a common thread eventually identified. Articles of clothing and jewelry had been taken from each of the victims. Initially, it was assumed the items had been lost during captivity or a struggle. An earring, a scarf, a handbag. In every single case, at least one shoe was missing. Always the left shoe.”
Sydney rubbed a hand up and down her arm where chill bumps had suddenly surfaced. “Why the left shoe?”
“Possibly some kind of fetish or disorder. Or a misdirection to fool the police.” He shrugged. “One victim a year for seven years, and then the murders stopped. For whatever reason, the killer went dormant and the trail went cold. Very few people in the area ever realized that a serial predator had lived among them. May still live among us.”
Sydney stared at him for the longest moment, almost afraid to say aloud the conclusion she’d immediately jumped to. “Are you suggesting he’s active again?”
He seemed hesitant to answer. “It’s a longshot. Odds are the killer is dead or in prison for another crime. But my gut tells me that maybe, just maybe, he’s still out there. I’m trying to find another piece of the puzzle, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. You may be able to help me.”
“How?”
“Your dad was the local cop who brought in the FBI.”
“What?” She pushed herself up against the pillows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
She tried to conceal her shock. The conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t expected. “He wouldn’t have mentioned anything about it at home. My mother didn’t like hearing about his cases.”
“That’s usually for the best.” Something in his tone made her wonder again about his private life. “The fifth body was found in a wooded area off the freeway, but within the Seaside city limits. Your dad took lead. He’d been working the case for over a year when another body turned up in a remote area of Galveston County. This time, there were enough similarities to his case that he started to look into past unsolved homicides in the region. He began to suspect they were looking for a single perpetrator clever enough to disguise his movements and proclivities by varying his MO, victim selection and location. Rather than trying to coerce cooperation from the various jurisdictions, he decided to request assistance from the feds.”
Sydney sat riveted. “What was the cause of death in his case?”
“Victim number five was the first of three strangulations.”
“Three strangulations?” She tried to fight off a growing unease as something clicked into place. Maybe she did have a vague recollection of those cases. An overheard conversation between her parents niggled at the back of her mind.
Don’t let her play outside alone until we catch the bastard.
She’s a handful, Tom. I can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day.
Trent pounced on her silence. “What’s wrong? Did you remember something?”
“Not really. Nothing helpful.” But the memory kept tugging. She’s a handful, Tom. I can’t watch her twenty-four hours a day. Even with the threat of a serial killer on the loose?
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
She sighed. “Like I said, I was just a little kid back then. As for my dad, he died a few years ago. And there’s no way I can get my hands on his casefiles, if that’s where you’re going with this.”
“You still have friends in the department, don’t you?”
“No one who’ll stick their neck out for me.”
Except for Dan Bertram, although she’d done a pretty good job of burning that bridge earlier. Still, he’d been her dad’s partner for years. The two had been like brothers for a time. Even if he hadn’t been actively involved in the investigation, he would have known about the cases. Why hadn’t he mentioned them in conjunction to the recent strangulations?
Trent said something, drawing her attention back to their conversation. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I asked about your dad’s notebooks. Did he keep any records at home?”
“His personal belongings were put in storage when I sold the house. It would take hours to go through all the boxes.”
“I’m willing if you are.”
She gave him a long, penetrating stare. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start instead of trying to play me?”
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Admit it. You don’t give a damn about helping me. You just want access to my dad’s files.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
At least he didn’t insult her with a flat-out denial. “Why are you so interested in these cases anyway? What’s in it for you? Are you trying to prove something? Or is it just about content for your podcast?”
“You didn’t mention justice.”
She folded her arms.
“Okay, you’re right. It was about content in the beginning,” he admitted. “The interview with the former HPD detective was one of my most popular shows. Thousands of new subscribers in a matter of days after I uploaded the video. Some of the clips from the episode went viral and racked up so many views that I decided to turn it into a series. People love police procedurals and unsolved mysteries. Podcasts are the new medium for true crime fanatics. But the deeper I dug...” He hesitated as if unsure how much he wanted to reveal. “Let’s just say, I now have a more compelling reason for exploring these murders.”
“What reason?”
“That’s something I’m not yet ready to discuss.”
“Being cryptic won’t help your cause,” she warned. “And anyway, I don’t know that I’m comfortable letting you dig through my dad’s things. He was a very private person.”
“Will you at least think about it?”
She gave a vague nod. “I need to rest now.”
“Yeah, I can see that. This isn’t the time or place anyway. I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, take care of yourself. I don’t just mean physically.” He came back around to the side of her bed and stared down at her. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking the department will have your back. The moment Richard Mathison files a lawsuit, they’ll circle the wagons. You have no idea how bad it can get.”
“I’m starting to have an inkling,” she murmured.
He removed a card from his shirt pocket and placed it on top of the sheet. “If you find yourself out in the cold, give me a call.”
