A Killer's Watch

A Killer’s Watch

An EJB Global Crime Thriller

Book Two

Tallulah Grace

Copyright 2014 Tallulah
Grace

The names, places and
events contained within this book are fictional. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No
part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopying or any other
information storage and retrieval system without prior, written permission of
the Author.

“Tell your mom that we’re studying here. If she calls, my
sister will cover us.” Twisting in the mirror, to get a better view of her
legs, sixteen
-
year
-
old
Allison Wells looked critically at her reflection. The skirt was not short
enough. No way would she make an impression in this thing.

“I know what happened last time, Sandy, but she promised
that she wouldn’t rat us out tonight. She owes me for last week, anyway, so
we’ll be fine.” Taking the phone to her closet, Allison stripped away the offending
skirt as she spoke. “I need to change, so why don’t I meet you there? Wait for
me in the parking lot, we’ll walk in together.”

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Allison shimmied into
another skirt, one that her mother would never allow her to wear outside of the
house. Smoothing it over her hips, she smiled.

“That’s more like it, Trey will have to notice me now.”

Satisfied with the change, she quickly found shoes to match,
before checking the mirror once more.

“If you’re lucky, Trey Rivers, I might just let you kiss me
tonight.” With a lilting laugh, and confidence beyond her years, Allison left
the privacy of her bedroom in search of a good time with friends.

~~~

Pressing the arrow to replay the video, the man watched the
young girl, so happy with herself and her choices, head out into the night.
This was one of his favorite moments, the last vestiges of their innocence,
preserved for all to see.

Assuming one knew where to look.

Smiling, he played it again, admiring how comfortable she
was in her own skin. Girls were much more confident today than when he was a
teenager. Perhaps technology played a role. There were certainly more
opportunities for socialization, and self-examination on camera, than when he
was a boy. What did they call them, selfies? Such a ridiculous name, but, he
supposed, it was apropos to the circumstances.

Nearing the end of the video, he froze the image to one of
Allison striking a pose in the mirror, obviously enjoying her reflection. With
a few more keystrokes, he printed the still photo to add to his collection.

“Time to meet you, my sweet. I trust that you won’t be
disappointed.”

Laughing aloud at the absurdity of the notion, Graham Grant
selected keys to a discreet Mercedes, one that would never be traced to him,
and left the comforts of his fortress in search of an evening to remember.

“Buckle up, ladies, we’ll be landing soon,” Ethan Barnes
replaced the receiver as he spoke. “The pilot said that we’ll be on the ground
in thirty.”

“I think I follow you, so far, but I still don’t get why the
money isn’t easier to trace.” Chloe Carson obediently snapped the buckle into
place. “I mean, thirteen years post 9/11, electronic transactions are pretty
transparent, right? How did this cat, Anson, manage to operate so far under the
radar?”

“Internet currency, for one thing,” Jeri Forbes, Ethan’s
partner and fiancée, answered. “As far as we can tell, subscribers paid for
monthly access via online currency, but the accounts receiving the funds were
numerous and fluid. They changed so frequently, that they’re impossible to
track. In addition, we’ve recently discovered that Anson may have posted instructions
for wire transfers in several underground chat rooms. We can only assume that
the transfers bought subscribers a more in-depth view into Anson’s depravity.”

“And your friend, Dylan, thinks that the two prostitutes
murdered, and dumped, in Clevestone are the work of one of Anson’s subscribers,
simply because a few details are the same?” Monique Pellier, Ethan’s former
partner, knew the scope of Anson’s reign of terror in Europe, and in the
States.

“It’s more than a few details,” Ethan told her. “By the time
we land, you’ll have the reports in your inbox. From what Dylan described to
me, I think he’s right. Whoever murdered those women followed Anson’s playbook.
It’s too much of a coincidence, otherwise.”

“But why recreate something that’s already been done? Is the
killer paying homage to Anson? Or does he simply lack imagination?” Monique
looked to Jeri for the answer.

“He could very well be a copycat, which would be bad enough,
but I think he’s testing the waters. For one thing, the details of the murders,
the way the women were killed, are the same as two murders attributed to Anson
and his brother in Spain. The most glaring difference is the victimology.
Howard and Harold Anson killed two soccer moms, the Kansas killer chose two
prostitutes.”

“Why does that matter?” Chloe asked.

“It can be very telling. Prostitutes are considered soft
targets, or easy victims,” Jeri explained. “If our killer is new to this, then
an easy target is preferable, while he works out the kinks.”

“Good Lord, another newbie?” Chloe’s eyebrows shot up.
“What’s happening? Are these guys coming out of the woodwork? I never knew
there were so many serial killers to worry about.”

“There’s never a shortage, that’s for sure,” Jeri smiled in
sympathy with Chloe’s realization. “If more of Anson’s watchers decide to join
the fray, we’ll have our hands full.”

“How many watchers did he have?” Monique asked.

“Hundreds, all over the world, as far as we know,” Ethan
told her. “It’s virtually impossible to get an accurate number, but based on
Anson’s access to funds, he had quite a following.”

“So they what, watched him commit murder? And now one of
them is picking up, where Anson left off?”

“That’s about the size of it. Only I don’t think that this
one will be satisfied with prostitutes for long. Once he gets comfortable,
he’ll move on to his true targets.” Jeri felt Ethan’s hand close over hers as
the plane began its descent.

“How are we going to catch him, if we don’t have a clue who
he wants to kill?” Chloe, the newest member of EJB Global, had much to learn
about tracking a killer.

“Something tells me he’ll show his hand, soon. Two kills in
three days is quite a kick-start. That’s where we begin.”

“Will we work with the local cops, or on our own?” Chloe
asked.

“For now, we’re on our own. When he escalates, we’ll let
them know we’re on the case.” Ethan nodded, appreciating Chloe’s curiosity, but
noting her frown. “Don’t worry, Chloe, we know that you’re not an experienced
investigator, but you’ve proven that you can handle yourself in the field. The
rest will come, in time.”

“I just want to pull my weight,” Chloe explained.

“You will,” Jeri assured her. “If we didn’t believe that,
you wouldn’t be here.”

As the wheels touched down, Jeri held tight to Ethan’s hand.
They were entering Anson’s world again, she thought with a shudder. She could
only imagine the terror that awaited some poor, poor soul.

“Shallow cuts on the torso, arms and legs did not contribute
to the cause of death, but they were designed to inflict maximum pain.” The
medical examiner pushed his glasses on top of his forehead, and rubbed his
eyes. Replacing them, he continued reading from the autopsy report.

“Cause of death for both women was strangulation. It would
have been exsanguination, but he didn’t wait for the blood loss to do the job.
The two deepest cuts, for both women, were over the heart. In the first one, he
nearly severed the aorta, which would have killed her quicker, and would have
been a blessing, if you want my two cents. He was more careful with the second
one. He’s learning fast.”

“And there were no signs of sexual assault? You’re certain?”
Ethan asked, knowing that this detail was the only discrepancy between these
kills, and the Anson brothers.

“No sign of fluid, no bruising of any kind to indicate
assault. Intercourse is a possibility, but it wasn’t rough. That’s about all I
can tell you.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ethan extended his hand. “I appreciate
your meeting with us so late. It’s important to hear the facts, more helpful
than reading about them in a report.”

“No problem. Anything I can do to help you get this guy, I’m
happy to do. This is one sick bastard, let me tell you. He tortured those
women, pure and simple. I’ve seen lots of different deaths in my life, but
these two were the worst. I hope I don’t see another one like them.”

“We’ll do our best to keep that from happening. If anything
comes up, please contact us.”

“Will do.”

Jeri waited until they were away from the M.E.’s office
before commenting.

“That confirms our theory that he’s just getting started,”
she spoke softly as they walked along the long, brightly lit hallway. “I’m not
sure what to make of the absence of rape. From the report I read, it was
obvious that Harold took a great deal of pleasure from that aspect of the
murders.”

“Yes, he did,” Ethan agreed. “Though Howard didn’t. Maybe
our killer relates more to him.”

“He certainly dove into the torture side of things with no
problem,” Jeri followed Ethan through the doorway, into the cool, night air.

“Our boy’s not squeamish, that’s for certain,” Ethan agreed.
“Do you want to drive by the drop zones on the way to the hotel?”

“Sure. Both bodies were found at night, so we can get a
better sense of what’s going on in the area.”

“He dropped them within a two mile radius of town. He’s not
exactly hiding his kills.”

“It’s commonly felt that most serials want to be found,
ultimately. It’s the only way to receive the recognition they crave,” Jeri
reminded him. “It’s odd, though, that such a new killer is already seeking
attention.”

“Could be a newbie mistake, or it could be that he’s
arrogant. Probably doesn’t believe anyone will care about the death of two
prostitutes.”

“Based on the priority the locals are giving these cases,
I’d say he’s right,” Jeri settled into the SUV, searching her tablet for a map
of the area.

“I’ll check in with Monique, let her know what we’re doing.”
Ethan started the car, but let it idle. “Did you know it would be this cold
here?” he asked, typing the text.

“Figured, it
is
Kansas in March, after all. It’s been
colder everywhere, this year,” Jeri added, enlarging the screen to bring up a
field, south of town. “The first drop zone is probably deserted this time of
night. I can’t see anything around that would give people a reason to be there.
Turn left, then right at the stop sign. It should only be a few minutes away.”

“Gotta love a small town,” Ethan grinned, putting the car
into gear. “The downside is that it will be more difficult for us to stay under
the radar.”

“Staying in Topeka helps,” Jeri told him, adjusting the
heating vent. “It’s only twenty minutes away from Clevestone, and we’ll blend
in better there.”

“I hate to break this to you, Love, but you stand out,
wherever you are,” Ethan shot her a sideways grin.

“Right back at you,” Jeri felt the familiar flush spread
over her body. Ethan had a way of claiming her as his, no matter the
circumstances.

“You make a good point, though. Topeka is only minutes away
from here, maybe the killer hunts in Topeka, but kills in Clevestone.”

“Both bodies were moved, so he could just be dumping them in
Clevestone. But why?”

“Sentimental reasons, sending a message, fewer resources in
a small town, it’s on his way home,” Ethan began listing possibilities.

“According to the reports, one of the women grew up in
Clevestone, but the other one wasn’t even from Kansas. She grew up in Iowa,
then relocated to Topeka.” Jeri studied the map. “You know, Clevestone is less
than an hour from Missouri, and a little more than an hour from both Nebraska
and Iowa. Our killer could live in any of the four states. But something makes
him dump the bodies in Clevestone.”

Ethan knew that Jeri was speaking more to herself, than to
him. Verbalizing was part of her process, one that he respected by keeping
silent.

“We know that both women worked the Topeka area, though in
different parts of the city. Both women solicited clients via websites
belonging to different escort services, so no connection there. The ten year
age difference, one Caucasian, one Hispanic, it’s as if he’s going out of his
way to select opposites, in every way,” Jeri mused. “Then he kills them, using
the exact same methods, and dumps them in the same small town.”

Ethan glanced down at the map, still lit in Jeri’s lap. He
could see that they were near the first dump site.

“It’s up ahead.” Jeri noticed the direction of his gaze.
“Between the fence posts. Look for the crime scene tape.”

“Surely they’ve already removed…nope, there it is,” Ethan
directed the car to the side of the road, angling the headlights to the area
still cordoned off with yellow streamers.

“Not much to see,” Jeri commented, getting out of the
vehicle. “No street lamps, no houses, nothing to prevent him from tossing a
body from the trunk.”

“Would you look at those stars?” Ethan tilted his head back
in appreciation. “Another bonus of small town living. You can actually see into
the night sky.”