Casanova Killer (3 page)

“Surely they thought of that.” Jerry commented. “It’s textbook profiling.”

“I’m not so sure Interpol is big on psychological profiling. They’re more into following concrete leads than insolating character traits and tracing patterns.” Nate answered.

“No wonder they haven’t caught him yet.” Jerry mumbled. “What do you know about Barnes?”

“Not much, he’s based in London and he’s been with Interpol for eight years, primarily undercover. That’s it, other than the fact that he’s already established a cover we can use.”

“Speaking of, what about my cover?” Jerry asked.

“You have a bay front condo, very posh, I might add.” Nate grinned at her raised eyebrows. “A personal shopper is filling your closet as we speak. You’re all set to be the perfect pampered princess.”

“Sounds great, do I get to keep the clothes?” Jerry looked hopeful.

“Not hardly. We’re doing this on San Francisco’s dime. They’re very eager to put this to rest sooner, rather than later.”

“Serial killers don’t exactly inspire tourist traffic,” Dylan scoffed, “but this one is so specific that the average person is exempt.”

“His target victim pool is one of the reasons we have such a large budget on this assignment. Who do you think donates to the arts and helps make the city what it is in order to attract the tourists?  The people he’s targeting. Don’t forget that two of the victims had married lovers. Our unsub’s actions caused an investigation that put a serious kink in their extracurricular activities.”

“So our investigation is also funded in part by an element of the elite private sector.” Jerry grinned. “Somehow, that makes me happy.”

“Hey, you play, you pay.” Dylan quipped.

Nate ignored his remark. “You’ll also have a limo at your disposal; the driver is one of ours from the San Francisco office. That way, you’ll have backup when Barnes isn’t around.”

“If our theory holds, the unsub will likely make contact when I’m alone. Do we know the three victim’s routines?”

“Jimmy’s working on it. Only two of the women had a driver, the third drove herself around. He’s pulling the GPS info for the month before her death to try and establish some sort of routine. He should have something for us by the time we land.”

“I still can’t believe the agency hired someone so young for tech support. What is he, twelve?” Dylan had been waiting for the newbie to screw up, but so far his support had been invaluable.

“Age is just a number, old man.” Jerry teased. “Besides, Jimmy’s legal, barely, and he’s a hell of a lot better than the last tech guy they gave us.”

“True, but he still seems too young for the job.”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t graduate from MIT when you were eighteen.” Jerry poked Dylan’s outstretched leg with her toe.

Dylan rolled his eyes at her, then continued. “Maybe it’s not the women he’s targeting as much as the men. Jimmy should look for overlaps in their lives as well.”

“He’s doing it as we speak.” Nate commented, pleased that Dylan made the connection. These two were the best of the best, in spite of their constant back-and-forth nonsense. He was proud to have them on his team.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s anything we can do until we land.” Dylan moved to a seat at the back of the plane. “Wake me when we get there.”

Chapter Three

Ethan Barnes flashed the flight attendant his most charming smile as he exited the plane. It was habit more than a conscious effort to captivate, even though the effect was decidedly beguiling.

Ethan’s rakish good looks and slightly dangerous swagger were never wasted on any female who crossed his path. He looked a bit like he’d just stepped off the cover of a decadent romance novel, complete with longish black hair and muscles rippling beneath his tailored shirt. Accustomed to the attention, Ethan had learned to take the unwanted admiration in stride.

Stepping into the early morning haze that hovered over the bay, he was suddenly grateful for the side benefits of his wealthy playboy cover, specifically the sleek black town car propping up the driver holding a sign that read “Ethan Bennett,” his cover for the assignment. Exhausted from the thirteen hour flight, he was in no mood to try and navigate an unfamiliar city during rush hour.

Handing his bag to the driver with a nod in lieu of a handshake, he slid into the backseat. Momentarily surprised to find it occupied by a lanky stranger holding a steaming mug of something that smelled like heaven, he quickly regrouped and held out his hand.

“You must be Nate.” The stranger took his hand, nearly crushing it until Ethan gave back as good as he got.

“Dylan Dawes. Nate’s busy coordinating with the locals. Nice to meet you Barnes.” Dylan had studied the man’s profile so he knew what to expect, but the agency photo did not capture the aloof, I’m-so-much-better-than-you attitude of the man who climbed into the car.

The expression on the stranger’s face belied his words. His scowl told Ethan that he’d taken his measure and he’d somehow come up lacking. “Pleasure. Are you with the FBI?”

“SSCD, Special Serial Crimes Division.” Dylan took pity on the foreign pretty boy and handed him a coffee. “It’s black; cream and sugar are in the bag.” He tossed a paper bag across the seat and was silently amused when Ethan missed it.

“Thanks. Didn’t get much sleep on the plane.” Ethan read the other man’s disapproval and accepted it; men didn’t immediately warm to him. Whether he inspired fear, jealousy or something in between, he was used to a chilly reception from his male counterparts. He wondered briefly which part of his person the surly man sitting across from him objected to the most.

Ignoring Dylan’s continued assessment, Ethan prepared his coffee with three sugars and two creams. The man would come around eventually. Or not. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about Dylan Dawes’ opinion; he only wanted to solve this case before another woman was killed.

The driver eased away from the curve before lowering the privacy glass between the front and back seats. Ethan, eyebrows raised, looked questionably at Dylan.

“That’s Rodney, he’s one of us. He’ll be one of your drivers as well as part of your back-up team.”

“Nice to meet you Rodney.” Ethan nodded at the man wearing the chauffer’s cap. “Any news on the case?” He asked both men.

“No news on the unsub and no new victims. Jerry’s set up at the condo, she’s your undercover partner. We have a video conference scheduled with Nate and the team in thirty minutes.”

“Is Jerry local FBI, or is she SSCD?”

“SSCD, one of the best.” Dylan’s scowl deepened as he leveled his eyes at Ethan.

Ethan read the warning shot from Dawes’ eyes. So that was the problem, he thought. They were a couple and Dawes’ didn’t like the idea of Ethan barging in on his territory. So it was jealousy that prompted his mistrust.

“Good to know. She’ll have to be, to catch this guy. He’s slick.” Ethan sipped his coffee and glanced out the window at the majestic span of orange metal in the distance. He’d always planned to visit San Francisco, but for pleasure, not business. Still, the city made a good first impression.

“We’re anxious to hear what you know about him, the file was pretty slim.” Dylan studied the ease with which Barnes lounged on the plush leather as he surveyed the city. Slick was exactly the word he would use, and not just for the unsub.

“That’s because there’s not much to report. The guy’s a ghost.” Ethan preferred to give the details to everyone at once, no need to repeat himself just to satisfy Dylan Dawes.

“And you’re sure that we’re after the same unsub.” Dylan’s statement was more of a question.

“Looks like. The signature is the same. His trail went cold in Italy two months ago.” Ethan settled back into his seat. “Tell me about Jerry. What does she look like?”

Son of a bitch, Dylan thought, we’re chasing a serial and this one wants a little something on the side. Not if he had anything to say about it. The last thing Jerry needed was Pretty Boy Slick to mess with her head. Holding his tongue, but determined to warn Jerry, he simply responded, “She fits the profile.”

“Tall, brunette, gorgeous? Hard to imagine an FBI agent that looks like that. No offense, but all of the blokes I’ve met from your agency are more nondescript. By blokes, I mean female agents as well.” Ethan enjoyed the anger that flitted across Dylan’s face, but he couldn’t say why.

“You won’t have to imagine it for long. We’re nearly there.” Dylan did not rise to the other man’s bait. Hiding a smirk, he thought that he probably wouldn’t have to say anything to Jerry; she would see straight through this asshole.

Chapter Four

Jerry snapped the laptop shut after perusing Ethan Barnes’s profile for the tenth time. The man’s background gave her confidence in his abilities, but there was much more to being a partner than the blurbs and highlights captured in a personnel file. If he looked anything like his profile picture, Jerry knew she would have no trouble pretending to be enamored with him.

Pictures and recommendations aside, Jerry’s biggest concern was that he would not respect her as an equal. Without fail, every male the agency had partnered her with had assumed that her biggest asset was her looks. She invariably spent the first few weeks proving that her appearance took a backseat to her sharp mind and her skills in the field. Trouble was, she didn’t have weeks to prove her abilities to Barnes; they needed to hit the ground working as a team if they had a prayer of stopping the unsub before he killed another woman.

 Jerry glanced at the oversized clock hanging above the onyx bar top. They should be here any minute. Her gaze touched on the opulent furnishings that filled the expansive living area before landing on the incredible vista of the bay and the city. The fifteenth floor corner condo was wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass; she could easily get lost in the views as well as the luxuriously appointed, and slightly intimidating, living spaces. Her humble upbringing and modest government salary had not prepared her to live in such lavish elegance in the heart of Nob Hill; part of her was afraid she would get used to it.  

The soft chime of the doorbell signaled her new partner’s arrival. Jerry smoothed her hands over crisp linen pants, took a deep breath and made her way to the door. Pasting on a smile that she hoped was welcoming and confident, she opened the door.

Interpol’s profile picture did not prepare her for the flesh-and-blood Adonis standing in the hall. Words of greeting lodged in her throat and her pulse rate soared as she stood and stared at the most gorgeous man she’d ever met.

“What’s the matter, Jer, cat got your tongue?” Dylan smirked as he came up behind Ethan. “You gonna let us in?”

“Of course,” Jerry found her composure and stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter.

“Jerry Forbes, Ethan Barnes.” Dylan made the introduction on his way to the kitchen, leaving Jerry standing with her hand on the doorknob and Ethan standing just inside the doorway gripping a suitcase in each hand.

“Come in, please.” Jerry swept her arm in an unconscious gesture of welcome without removing her eyes from his piercing green gaze. He seemed to look straight through her; Jerry felt a shiver run down her spine, but tried not to show it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ethan.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” Grateful that the speech portion of his brain managed to function on auto-pilot, Ethan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the vision standing before him. In a split second, he clearly understood the meaning of the phrase “struck by lightning.” Tall and slender with thick waves of caramel hair falling over both shoulders, Jerry Forbes stood nearly as tall as he with sparkling blue eyes shot with spears of green set wide apart in a face that he could only think of as angelic. When her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in a silent question, Ethan realized that he’d been standing in the doorway, staring like a dumbstruck fool.

“Thank you,” he murmured and stepped into the room, placing both cases on the shiny hardwoods. Stepping forward, he held out his hand.

Jerry still had not managed to look away from his intense gaze. From out of the blue, she imagined curling up against him on a rainy day, resting her head on his chest as his arms closed around her. She took his hand without hesitation, but as soon as their fingers touched, the comforting image morphed into one filled with white hot passion that nearly took her breath away.

Ethan saw the flash of heat that deepened the blue and brightened the green in her eyes. He was having trouble masking his own reaction, touching Jerry was like reaching his hand into a flame.

“You guys gonna stand there all day?” Dylan came from the kitchen, coffee and muffin in hand. “Nice digs, Jerry. Damn site better than the Motel 6 we stayed in last week. What a dump.”

Dylan’s voice startled Jerry from her fantasy. She quickly retrieved her hand. “So glad you approve. Ethan, would you like coffee?”

“I would, thanks. What a spectacular view.” Flashing a smile that sent Jerry’s pulse into overdrive, Ethan moved to the windows.

“Stunning, isn’t it? Wait until you see it at night.” Jerry busied herself making coffee and arranging a plate of pastries. “Dylan, will Nate be joining us?”

“Not in person. We’ll video conference when Barnes is ready to share.” Dylan propped his feet on the pewter and glass coffee table.

“I’m ready.” Ethan ignored the barely disguised sneer in the other man’s voice and joined Jerry at the dinette table.

Dylan reached for the television remote, pressed a few buttons on his hand-held computer and within seconds, Nate appeared on the oversized wall monitor.

“Nate Banks, meet Ethan Barnes.” Dylan leaned back against the plush sofa, determined to take full advantage of the luxury while it was available.

Ethan raised his coffee cup to Nate. “Pleasure. Thanks for letting me join your investigation.”

Nate nodded, appreciating the fact that Barnes respected his position, even though both men knew that the decision to bring him in was out of Nate’s hands. “Glad you could join us. Morning Jerry. How’s everything?”

“Couldn’t be better, Boss.” She knew Nate was really asking if she was comfortable with Ethan.

“Good. Okay Barnes, tell us what you know.”

“You have the file, so you know the basics.” Ethan began. “As far as we know, Casanova began killing in Central London ten months ago.”

Jerry listened attentively as Ethan recapped the basics, adding his impressions of the killer and outlining Interpol’s efforts for identifying the unsub. She was captivated by his melodious tone and lilting accent, despite the horrendous crimes he was describing. As he spoke, she tried to place his home country without success. His speech contained hints of Australia with an overtone of something exotic. As his file had not included background information prior to his joining Interpol, she’d just have to find out on her own.

“So you’ve been mingling with the rich and famous, hoping this guy will fall in your lap. Meanwhile, he jumped over here and started killing our women.” Dylan knew he sounded surly, but he didn’t care. Ethan Barnes rubbed him the wrong way.

“Not exactly, but I can understand why
you
might take that approach.” Ethan remained unruffled, smoothly turning Dylan’s insult back on him. “His last victim, Carolina Agave, was one of my informants. I approached her because she fit his profile to the letter and I wanted her to be on guard.” Ethan lowered his eyes and took a sip of cold coffee. “The night before she was killed, she left me a message describing a new man who had struck up a conversation with her that evening at a local nightclub. Her lover had not accompanied her; she was out with a few friends.”

Ethan paused briefly and took a deep breath. No one interrupted him. “As soon as I received the message the next day, I called round to her flat. According to a watchful neighbor and a very hungry cat, she had not come home at all from the night before. We found her the next day on the cliffs, just outside the city.”

“What was the description?” Nate asked.

“Tall, 6’3” or 6’4”, she thought. Caucasian, blond hair and dark brown eyes. British accent, but he looked like a Nordic God, her words, not mine.”

“That’s something to go on, at least, but he could easily change both his hair and his eye color if he thinks you’re onto him.” Jerry could tell that Ethan was disturbed by the story. Every instinct called her to reach out to him, but she refrained.

“He knew we were onto him, all right.” Ethan’s eyes darkened in anger. “Best we can figure, he overheard her leaving the message. She disappeared from the club shortly after making the call, according to her friends, none of whom saw the man she met.” Ethan took another deep breath and continued. “From everything we know about his other kills, she was the only one he didn’t romance for at least a week before the murder. She also had defensive wounds on her arms, she put up a fight.”

“What about surveillance at the club?” Dylan asked.

“It was ultra-private, no surveillance whatsoever.”

“If he overheard her phone call, he could track it from her cell. How do you know you’re not made?” Nate leaned closer to the screen, his face filled the monitor.

“We used a disposable phone; I believe you call them burner phones. To answer your next question, I spoke with her, but she actually only ever met my partner. Any description she might have given him was of a petite blond female she met at the gym.”

“Where’s your partner now?” Dylan narrowed his eyes when he looked at Ethan.

“She’s now a redhead on assignment in Ireland. We rarely work with the same team on consecutive cases.” Ethan explained. “She left the Riviera before we found Carolina’s body. I stayed for another month, but he never resurfaced anywhere in Europe.”

Jerry warmed Ethan’s coffee, then passed him a muffin. “We’d already concluded that he romances his victims, but we don’t know if he exclusively selects mistresses. Is any wealthy brunette traveling in these elevated social circles fair game, or does he enjoy the power of taking another man’s woman?”

“Thanks.” Ethan smiled. “I can’t say what he enjoys, but all of his victims have been in an exclusive relationship with a very wealthy, often married man. I understand that the same holds true here.”

“Yes,” Jerry began. “Two of the local victim’s companions are married, the other is just filthy rich.”

“If he knows that the authorities were onto him in Europe, wouldn’t any new player with an accent raise a red flag in San Francisco?” Dylan directed his question to Nate.

“Possibly, but wealthy Europeans visit the city all the time. Casanova would need more information in order to make Ethan as an agent.” Nate quickly scanned a file. “Besides, his cover story is impeccable. What prompted you to spend the last few weeks in Greece? Did you have any leads at all?” Nate asked Ethan.

“No leads, but I wanted to maintain my cover. I also spent time in Paris, prior to sailing the Mediterranean. I knew the bastard would resurface, I just didn’t think it would be in the states.”

“His coming here is probably your best chance to catch him. It’s obvious that whatever you were doing in Europe wasn’t working.” Dylan stared at Ethan, practically daring him to argue.

Jerry shot Dylan a pointed look, designed to get him to back off. “What Dylan means is that we work a little differently than Interpol. SSCD teams are trained to create a profile of the killer based on victimology, personality and other identifying characteristics, such as their signature. Profiles help us reduce the number of available suspects and sometimes predict an unsub’s next move.”

“The psychology of the killer is just as important to your group as the who, what, when, where and how.” Ethan nodded. “I can see where that would be helpful. Have you profiled Casanova?”

“Partially. The socio-economic patterns of his victims tell us that he’s accustomed to wealth, either through his business relationships or his own social network. My guess is that he visibly has all the trappings, flashy car, nice clothes, and so on, or these women would not risk their current relationships. He’s educated, intelligent and has the social skills necessary to fit in with the lifestyle.”

“From everything we’ve learned so far, I’d say you were spot on. As adept as he is in infiltrating his victims’ social circles, he’s equally savvy about avoiding surveillance cameras or meeting friends of his targets.”

“It’s hard to believe that in this age of candid camera that he could be invisible.” Dylan stood, stretched and headed for more coffee.

“Just another indicator that he has enough money at his disposal to change his appearance, his vehicles and his home base at will. Add to that the fact that we discovered the bodies of most of his victims long after he killed them. Any surveillance vids available were either erased or destroyed in the meantime. The only two exceptions are Carolina and the woman found on the cliffs, two days ago, Jenna.” Ethan ran his hand through his hair. “All of the victims here have been discovered more quickly than his other kills, except Carolina. If we’ve any chance at surveillance footage, I’d say we work backwards, starting with Jenna Pierce.”