Against the Rules Page 11

  “As soon as you’re settled into the guest room, come into my office. We can discuss it there.”

  Settled into the guest room? Settled how? She had been ordered to leave her clothing there, not that she had wanted to take anything that the pervert might have touched. All she had were her weapons and the clothes on her back.

  * * * *

  Teague knew that his time was short. Donley would have a full team assembled within the hour. He was confident of their abilities. They were highly trained and highly motivated. The men and women he’d come into contact with during his years of service to the agency were some of the best. They took their job very seriously. Yet, he couldn’t help scoping out the area.

  The vidcam equipment was telling. High resolution, giving the viewer a clear, lifelike picture, but no sound. Fixed in place, the sicko would have needed time to align each camera for optimum view. Teague suspected that the power feed tapped into the fire sensors. Brilliant really. Due to the battery backup required for fire sensors, the feed would be uninterrupted.

  There was nothing unique about the equipment. Middle grade, easily purchased technology. No hope of finding the perp that way. The Wi-Fi was another story. Computers were Teague’s life blood and death knell.

  * * * *

  “Sid, print the released info on the Weasel.”

  “Chief… It’s pretty gruesome,” he warned unnecessarily.

  “Print it,” he reiterated with a stern ‘stop fucking around’ look. “Chantel, have you had any repairs done to your house in the last month or so? Has anyone been inside? What about Reese? Has he been there often?”

  “No, this afternoon was the first time Reese has been inside. Other than Tiffany and Ed, I can’t think of anyone,” Chantel replied.

  “Exterminators, landscapers, phone repair, anything?”

  Shaking her head, she explained, “Ed exterminates and landscapes. Nothing has broken since I moved in.”

  Ed had more than his share of baggage, but he wasn’t the Weasel. He’d been practically a member of the family since the chief’s early military days.

  “And don’t go snooping into Tiffany’s life again. You’ve already had her investigated,” Chantel warned.

  “Bell and his men found at least four Wi-Fi video cameras mounted in your house. The living room, kitchen, master bedroom and bath were being watched. They used a motion detecting sensor. Any movement inside the room would trigger the camera to begin broadcasting. The installation was virtually invisible. Do you have any idea who put them in or when?”

  “Maybe they were there from the previous owner. I haven’t lived there all that long. Could they be old?”

  “Putting your head in the sand is too dangerous, Chantel. There was a note left behind identifying the perpetrator as the Weasel.”

  “I’ve heard the name, but can’t remember any details.”

  The chief slid a picture of a horribly mutilated female body in front of her. “This was his first victim that we know of. The body was found in a dumpster on the outskirts of Ward One over twenty-five years ago.”

  The second photo was more ghastly than the first. “His next victim was found a couple of years later near Raleigh. It was suspected he kept her longer. She was severely underweight. A number of wounds were in various stages of healing.” The chief paused to scrutinize his daughter. His objective was to gain her cooperation, not scare her to death. She was holding up well. Was she taking this seriously?

  “With victims three and four, he began taunting law enforcement. These girls became his personal message board to berate the officers searching for him. His torture technique and signature style were developing.”

  “Stop!” She turned away. “What are you saying, Dad? You think this guy is after me?” A shiver ran down her spine.

  “It is possible. Beginning with her,” he pointed to victim three, “the perp left us messages signed ‘Pop! goes the weasel’. There was a note shoved into the neck of your porcelain doll. It matches evidence found at these scenes. It was signed the same way, Chantel. Once the lab is finished with it, we’ll know more. Until we have him in custody, you’ll stay here.” He placed the phone within easy reach. “Call your principal and inform her you’ll be taking a leave of absence.”

  “Absolutely not! I have a responsibility to my students. This guy has been killing girls longer than I’ve been alive. No offense, Dad, but what makes you think you’re going to catch him now?”

  “For starters, he’s never targeted my daughter before.” A calm, chilling promise of retaliation hung in the air. “I’ll be damned if a threat to you will go unanswered. The task force is en route as we speak. I can guarantee they’ll have any and all resources they deem necessary to get the job done.”

  A cold dread filled the room. Chantel looked like she’d reached the end of her emotional tether. He’d never wanted her exposed to such depravity, but she needed to understand what they were up against.

  “Let’s be reasonable. All cases take time. They will have to review the evidence, get lab reports, follow leads. I refuse to stop living my life while you go after this guy. He isn’t going to risk being seen at the school. It is a very public place. I’m safe there.”

  “He had his fifth victim, by a conservative estimate, for three months. The corpse was discovered by an agent of mine when he went out to get his morning paper.”

  She took a slow, deep breath. Very calmly, she reminded him, “You didn’t raise me to live my life cowering in fear.”

  “I didn’t raise you to be a fool either. I’ve spoken with the agent in charge of the task force. This is the first real break they’ve had. Twelve victims and nominal evidence. So far, they’ve only been aware of the crimes after the fact. Finding the surveillance equipment was just the windfall they’ve been looking for.”

  “The equipment might not even belong to the sicko. It might have been part of the security system for the previous owners. I heard the officers talking about it. It was older technology.” She spoke quickly. “Dad, I’m not going to hide. My job is important. Those kids need a stable learning environment. For every year a student spends with an inadequate teacher it takes an average kid two years to catch up. The kids that are already struggling may never rebound. I refuse to indefinitely hand over my students to a substitute. It is not happening!”

  Chantel hadn’t had children yet. The love and concern she felt for her students couldn’t possibly be in the same league as what he felt for her, his own flesh and blood. She had no idea what she was asking of him. He was very proud of her, though. She was standing up for her ideals. Putting others first, demanding to live her life to the fullest. Damn it. “There are seven other women, Chantel. Each one more brutalized than the last.”

  “Sid, were the women abducted from public places?” She glared at her father.

  “I’m really not at liberty to say, Ms. Donley,” he answered smoothly.

  “Which in agency speak means ‘no, but I’d rather not face the chief’s wrath’.” Chantel shook her head, looking disappointed. “Forget it, Dad, I’m going to work. I’m willing to make concessions. I’ll live with you for a while, but I’m not taking a leave of absence.”

  He turned to his computer and hit several keys. As he read various reports, he announced, “It’s an unacceptable risk. Call your principal.” To emphasize his point he pushed the phone closer.

  They sat in silence staring at each other, both convinced that they were right.

  “Dad, you could use a woman around here to cook your meals. By the look of things you’ve been eating out of a drive-thru for most of your food. I’ll stay with you for a while. I’m willing to curtail my activities, but I will go to work each day. That isn’t on the table. If the agency hasn’t found any evidence, it means he is very cautious. He isn’t going to try anything at a school. The odds are too heavily stacked against him.”

  “Chief,” Sid timidly chimed in. “We could give her an escort to and from work each day
.”

  He looked at his baby girl, she was so damn much like his wife had been at her age. He was going to lose her too. She was as stubborn as the day was long, and he’d already demanded that she end her relationship with four-six-two. Donley wanted to break something. He’d never seen Chantel look at a man like she’d been looking at him. And to give the devil his due, Teague had always been a stand-up man. Fate had dealt him a shitty hand, but he always did the right thing and usually at great cost to himself. He was head and shoulders above her usual legion of losers. But this he wouldn’t allow. He couldn’t.

  As much as he wanted to lock his daughter away, he couldn’t do that either. He dropped his eyes to the photos lining the desk in front of her. One by one, he slid them into the case file. He rested his chin on steepled fingers, blinked and capitulated. He’d bluffed. None of the women had been taken in public. If she was escorted to and from work, it would be reasonably safe.

  * * * *

  “Foster? Teague four-six-two. Cancel the transfer. I changed my mind. I think I overreacted.”

  “What happened? You were emphatic.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a bit paranoid after the last attempt. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Teague ended the call.

  With Channy living at her parent’s house, it would be easy enough to avoid her. It wasn’t like he could show up at their house and be invited in. All he had to do was ask another tech to respond to service calls at her school and they would never meet again. With a threat like the Weasel after her, Channy would be lucky to see the light of day until the agency had the bastard in a jail cell.

  To save her from a fate worse than his, Teague opened up his laptop and did what he did best. Hack.

  He started with a search of the agency files on the Weasel. Literally thousands of photos recounted the attacks, but very little hard evidence existed. Not a single fingerprint or smattering of DNA was attributed to the perp. Either the Weasel was damn good or someone within the agency was helping him.

  Twelve victims in twenty-five years. Teague checked the FBI files as well. They’d been actively working the case before the NBIA came on the scene.

  Odd… The killer took one victim every two years. Bizarre. He wasn’t a profiler, but he’d expected the frequency to increase. Teague wondered if the perp was reliving a certain event. He began looking at the different murders to see what consistencies he could find. All the women were grabbed at the same time of year, early spring. Why every other year? If timing was significant, why not the same date each year?

  Teague jotted down a note to check moon cycles, tides, anything that could coincide with the abduction dates. He postponed looking at the actual corpse photos. He couldn’t go there with the scent of Channy still lingering in his house and on his clothes. His brain couldn’t connect the two and still function properly.

  Next, he looked at the locations. Two in DC. Two in Maryland. Two in New York. One in Georgia. Two in Texas. One in New Mexico. Two in California. No real pattern to the number of murders in each location. There had to be a connection and he was determined to find it.

  * * * *

  Chantel jumped at the knocking at her door. Those gruesome pictures had upset her more than she cared to admit.

  “Come in,” she yelled, expecting her dad.

  “Ms. Donley, I picked up a few things I thought you’d need for tomorrow.” Sid placed several shopping bags down on a chair by the door. “They might be too small. I wanted to make sure the smart…Alec clerk realized they weren’t for me.”

  Chantel laughed at the pained look on his face. “Thought you were a cross-dresser, did she?” Chantel was touched that he’d helped her out. She suspected he was trying to make her laugh. Sid didn’t look like his ego had taken any serious hits. Maybe he wasn’t as lame as she’d first thought. Not that she blamed him. Her father was intimidating, especially if he held the key to your career.

  “I told her I needed clothes for a protected witness, but she wasn’t buying it. I even showed her my badge.” He added a pouty lip to go with his puppy dog eyes.

  Obviously, Sid was a woman’s man in his own right. He was tall, handsome, always dressed to perfection. So why did he do nothing for Chantel? “Poor guy, was she immune to your charms?”

  “The story of my life.” He flashed her an easy grin. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. A little shell-shocked, but no worries.”

  “We won’t let him hurt you.”

  He already had. He’d taken away her independence. She was afraid to be alone in her own home. “How long have you worked with my dad? He told me you were a cold case wizard.”

  “I’ve had some luck with them.” He shrugged, dismissing the praise. “The chief took me under his wing not long after he came here. I couldn’t ask for a better mentor.”

  “I had hoped once he left the bureau, he would slow down a bit. How many hours is he putting in a day?”

  “I really couldn’t tell you, Ms. Donley,” Sid answered politely.

  Chantel sighed. “You could, but you won’t. It doesn’t matter. And call me Chantel. Any man who buys me underwear should call me Chantel.”

  The tips of his ears turned red. “Technically, the agency bought them. Discretionary funds come in useful on occasion.”

  “You whipped out your government American Express card and the clerk still didn’t believe you?” Chantel teased him. With a feigned seriousness she explained, “It’s the mandals. Real men don’t wear sandals unless they’re at the beach. This is the desert, Sid, there isn’t a beach in five hundred miles.”

  He clutched his chest as if her words were a sword through the heart. “I’m beginning to see the family resemblance.” He gave her a wink. “My card’s in the bag. Call if you need anything and I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  * * * *

  The painter needs a ladder and brush,

  The artist needs an easel,

  The dancer needs her fiddlers two.

  Pop! goes the weasel.

  And all he needed was to find the bastard’s HR file. Most large organizations, and that included state and local agencies, used one of only a handful of software programs, each customized to meet their individual needs and to satisfy them that their unique firewalls were strong enough to keep out invaders. What they failed to realize or refused to acknowledge was that any software had a backdoor for programmers.

  The local PD was using an older system. One he’d learned the intricacies of long ago. It took longer to filter through the files than it did to get into their ‘secure’ site.

  Ahh, there he is. The monkey. Aka Tyler Peterson.

  Chapter Nine

  Teague was intrigued. How many men had lived in all seven states during those same years? Because of the length of time the Weasel kept his victims, it seemed unlikely that he simply traveled through those areas. He began a search of DMV records. Due to the number of years a driver’s license remained valid, it would be too time consuming to sift through the dates. For this initial query, he just tried to match names. The list was surprisingly large. Scanning the names, he found one familiar and recurring—Patrick Donley.

  Son of a bitch!

  * * * *

  “Sir, Officer Peterson hasn’t reported for duty,” Charlotte from dispatch informed Bell.

  “Send a patrol car to his apartment. Maybe he’s still sleeping one off.” Possible, but unlikely. Bell’s gut tightened. It didn’t feel right. Peterson hadn’t been on the job long. He was too gung-ho to blow off his shift. “Let me know what they find.”

  “We had a car in the area so I asked them to do a run-by. His car is in the parking lot and he’s not answering the door.”

  “I assume you’ve already tried calling him.”

  “Yes, sir,” Charlotte answered promptly.

  That’s why he’d hired her. Not only was she a knockout, but she had a brain too. “Who went over there?”

  “Reynolds.”

  Good choice. “Get h
im on his cell.” They didn’t need this going over the radio.

  “Line two.”

  He chuckled. She was making a habit out of anticipating his moves. “Reynolds, it’s Bell. Any signs of trouble?”

  “No, boss. I think he tied one on last night and he’s sleeping it off.”

  “Your call…”

  “It’s a pissy-ass lock. I can have it open in two shakes.”

  Bell could hear a faint metal on metal sound, then a sharp intake of air. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re gonna wanna get down here, boss.”

  In between gagging sounds, he heard Reynolds speaking into his radio. He was calling in a ten fifty-four and a code thirty. Possible dead body and officer needs help.

  “On my way.” He turned to Charlotte. She’d beat him to it again. In her outstretched hand, she had a sticky with Reynold’s cell phone number and Peterson’s address.

  Before he reached his car, he had Reynolds back on the line. “What’s happened?”

  “He’s dead, boss.” Bell could hear him breathing heavily. “He took a hell of a beating, sir. You can’t even recognize him. He’s been laid out on his table with a banana shoved in his mouth. What the hell does that mean?”

  The sirens were getting louder into the phone. “Tell ’em to wait for me. I’m just around the corner.”

  * * * *

  Teague had stayed awake long into the night reading the reports as various technicians began submitting their immediate findings. Nothing was jumping out at him. He needed to get his hands on those vidcams and the accompanying computer, which was about as likely as being invited to ride along on the next NASA spacewalk. Donley didn’t want him anywhere near this case or his daughter. Even if he convinced the bastard that he could garner evidence his techs couldn’t, which considering his current predicament shouldn’t be too hard, he’d still have to explain how he knew as much as he did and why he wanted to butt his nose into this mess. Breaking into the NBIA evidence room sounded more appealing.