Her Dying Breath (27 page)

“C
ome on, baby girl, we have to get moving.”

Brenda’s chest hurt too bad to move. She didn’t like the places Mama took her. The dark alleys where men smelled like smoke and that stinky brown stuff they had in their brown bags.

But Mama dragged her along behind her. “I’m sick,” Mama said. “He’s got stuff that’ll make me feel better.”

Mama smelled too. Like sweat and dirt and some kind of smoke that smelled funny and made her head hurt.

“Please, Mama,” Brenda said. “I don’t feel good.” Her head hurted and she started coughing. Coughing so bad she spit up gunk in her throat. Her legs felt rubbery, too, and she was shaking. Cold one minute, burning up the next.

“We’ll rest after I get my stuff,” Mama said in a low voice, ’cause they were walking past one of the police that Mama said was a bad person.

The streetlights from the stores were shutting off now. The cars passing by as if they couldn’t see them.

Mama made sure no one did. They hid behind the corners of the buildings else the po-po, that was what Mama called the police,
else the po-po runned after them. They would take her away from Mama if they saw her, Mama said.

Mama tugged her hand, and Brenda stumbled. Only her feet didn’t want to move, especially toward that street. Two big, mean-looking men were huddled around a garbage can they’d lit a fire in.

Her legs gave way, and she sank onto the dirty street by a Dumpster that stank like rotten food. The world looked fuzzy now, the lights spinning so fast the world looked blurry.

She started shaking harder, and the smell was so bad that her stomach started rolling. “Mama,” she whispered.

“Get up, Brenda. The po-po gonna take you and put me in jail.”

But Brenda was too tired to move, and her chest felt like it would explode.

“We’ll find something to eat soon as I get my stuff.”

The mention of food made Brenda’s stomach hurt more. She started coughing again, coughing so bad that she throwed up.

“Good Lord,” Mama said. “Just wait there. I’ll be right back, then we’ll find a place for you to lay down.”

“Don’t leave me, Mama,” she whispered.

But the sound didn’t come out and then her mama was gone, and she was heaving on the street, choking on her own spit and feeling like she was going to tumble right over into it.

She heard screaming from down in the dark alley, and something that sounded like a balloon pop, then more running. She blinked back the tears running out of her eyes. Then she hunted for her mama in the dark, but she didn’t see her anywhere.

More tears leaked down her face, then the world tilted again, and she fell backward against the Dumpster. She wanted to find her mommy, but her head hurted too much, and her eyes were stinging, and she was coughing again and shaking so hard that her head banged against the metal trash can.

She needed to find the sun. If she could find it, she’d be warm. She and Mama were always chasing it. Mama said it would lead them to something good.

But it was dark in the street, and there was no sun to be found, as if it had left her, just like her mama.

She crawled into the corner and curled up, wrapping her arms around her and rocking back and forth to stop the sickness, but it didn’t work. Finally she closed her eyes and gave in to how tired she was.

And then there was nothing.

Brenda jerked awake, trembling and disoriented. She shivered as if she was still in the throes of that nightmare, a nightmare that felt as if it had really happened.

The painkillers the nurse had given her must have sparked the weird dreams.

Because it had to be a dream.

Although it felt so real…like she had been living that life with that other woman she called Mama.

A deep, gut-wrenching loneliness filled her, making her ache all over. As much as she told herself that she hadn’t been that little girl, that she’d been raised in the lap of luxury by Agnes and William, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she had known that little girl and her mother.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Agnes poked her head in. “You okay, honey? I thought I heard you crying.”

Brenda shoved her hair from her face. “Just a strange dream.”

“What happened?” Agnes asked.

Brenda sighed. “I dreamed I was with some homeless woman, a junkie. She was dragging me behind her while she went hunting dope.”

Agnes’ face grew pinched, a look she’d tried to eliminate from her facial expressions because she claimed it aged her. “Must be the medication they gave you in the hospital. It’ll do strange things to your mind.”

Brenda nodded and waited until her mother closed the door, then climbed from bed and headed into the bathroom to shower.

She couldn’t afford to lie in bed all day while Nick investigated without her. A murderer was out there hunting her next victim, and she needed to stop her.

Nick called a meeting of the task force to review the details they had uncovered so far—Jake, Deputy Waterstone, Agent Hood, Dr. Bullock and his assistant Dr. Culpepper, along with Lieutenant Maddison, the lead officer in the crime lab.

Everyone filed into the back room at the sheriff’s office, where Nick had requested a whiteboard.

“I thought it might be helpful if we review what we have so far and see if anyone has a theory or finds connections we’ve missed. Time is of the essence; our unsub is probably already looking for her next victim.”

He wrote Seven’s name on one side of the board, then used the other to tack up photos of the victims they’d discovered so far, along with a line to track the chronology.

“You think we’re dealing with a serial killer?” Lieutenant Maddison asked.

Nick nodded. “Yes. We also believe she’s escalating.” He indicated Logger’s photo. “First she killed Jim Logger. He was former military, divorced, had a temper, and worked for Stark Security before he lost that job. Then he moved on to work for Mountain Truckers.”

“Is his place of employment important?” Dr. Bullock asked.

“We aren’t certain, but two murder victims worked at the same security company, although they were killed using different MOs. We don’t know yet if Sergeant Luther Mason worked there, but Darren James, the man we found shot on the ridge, and Jim Logger did.”

“What about the female body the sheriff found in that fire?” Deputy Waterstone asked.

Nick glanced at Jake. “We think that her death may be connected to the Strangler case but are still trying to piece things together.” Waterstone started to ask another question, but Nick gestured for him to let him finish. “The fire he’s referring to,” he explained to the others, “was at an abandoned compound in the mountains. Sheriff Blackwood was searching for deserted properties where our unsub might be hiding out when he discovered it. Evidence from that scene indicates that at least two people were held and tortured at the facility.”

He pointed at the photographs of the compound. “This building that burned down had bedrooms and a common area. This woman”—he gestured toward the photograph of the dead woman who’d been chained to the pipe—“died in the fire.” He tapped the next photos of the other two outbuildings. “These two buildings held medical equipment as well as a pit that had been dug in the ground, where we believe whoever held these victims punished the captives.”

“What does this have to do with our serial killer?” Deputy Waterstone asked.

Nick rubbed his chin. “We’ll hear from Lieutenant Maddison about the forensics, but our theory is that this place was an extension of Commander Blackwood’s research project, possibly where he kept the two subjects we haven’t located yet. One of those we believe to be Seven, the woman we suspect murdered Logger and Mason.”

“Do you think she killed Darren James?” Lieutenant Maddison asked.

Nick shrugged. “No. The MO is different. We know that the Commander hired guns to kill all those who could expose him, and we believe this hit might be related.”

“Which means that someone else is still trying to cover up the project and those involved,” Jake said.

Concerned murmurs echoed through the room. “You still think that someone higher up than your father spearheaded the project,” Deputy Waterstone commented.

Nick gestured toward Rafe, and Rafe nodded. “Yes. We’re working on that angle now.”

Nick pointed to photos of the corpses. “Please fill us in on the autopsies, Dr. Bullock.”

The ME adjusted his glasses. “Sergeant Luther Mason died of asphyxiation due to repeated strangulations, just as the first victim, Jim Logger, did.” He tacked photos of the bodies on the whiteboard. “If you look closely, you can see that the ligature marks are consistent with the same type of piano wire. The pressure and length of the wounds also indicate they were inflicted by the same person.”

“We know that the unsub chose to leave the bodies in different locations, and that the second victim was left in the woods,” Nick said. “He also sustained whip slashes on his back. The S & M might have been consensual, but the drugs in his system indicate he may have been coerced. The manner in which he was left suggests that the unsub is escalating, and that the crime was more personal. That she was angry, either at him or at the circumstances of her life and that she blames the victim.”

“Which brings us to Darren James,” Special Agent Hood said. “He was shot at point-blank range, execution style. Definitely not the same killer.”

Lieutenant Maddison spoke up. “Actually, about the forensics we found at the compound. The blood spatters we collected in the stalls where victims were held belong to a male.”

“No female samples?” Nick asked, surprised that Seven’s blood hadn’t been present. He wanted to know her real name.

Then again, Amelia claimed the Commander had assigned them numbers, not names. So how had Seven come to be involved in the project? Had her family sent her to the sanitarium for treatment, as Grace’s, Joe’s, and Amelia’s families had?

Maddison shook his head. “We did collect strands of female hair from the pit, but so far we haven’t matched the DNA to anyone in the system.”

Nick tensed. Had Seven been forced down in that hole? And for how long?

“We’ve linked Logger and James to that security company,” Jake said. “What if they were hired to guard the compound? Perhaps that’s how our unsub met Logger? Maybe James and Luther Mason both worked at the security company.”

Nick’s heart picked up a beat. “That would definitely serve as Seven’s motive. The men could have abused her while they guarded the compound.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Logger’s ex mentioned that he grew more disgruntled when he worked at the security company, and that he signed a confidentiality clause. Maybe he was struggling with what they were doing.”

Nick turned to Dr. Culpepper. “What about the woman who died in the fire?”

Dr. Culpepper gestured to the whiteboard. “We identified the burn victim as the fifty-three-year-old Mildred Hoppinger.” She pointed to the woman’s left temple. “She suffered a contusion that was the result of blunt force trauma premortem.”

“So someone knocked her unconscious, then handcuffed her to the pipe and left her to die in the fire,” Nick said.

“Or was she dead before the fire started?” Jake asked.

“The actual cause of death was smoke inhalation. But there’s something else,” Dr. Culpepper said. “All her fingers were broken.”

Nick chewed the inside of his cheek. “All of them?”

She gave a quick nod. “That has to be significant.”

“It doesn’t fit Seven’s MO,” Jake commented.

“Perhaps she was another Ms. Lettie,” Nick suggested. “The Commander hired her to guard the captives.”

Dr. Culpepper nodded. “She did serve in the military twenty-five years ago.”

“How do we know she’s not one of the subjects of the experiment?” Special Agent Hood asked.

Jake listed the names of the subjects they had confirmed so far. “Her age. All of the subjects are now in their twenties.”

“This is my working theory right now,” Nick said. “I think our unsub, Seven, was held, along with at least one other subject, in this compound. According to the timing of the fire, it’s possible that the Commander’s arrest triggered Seven and the other subject to break out of the compound.” He gestured toward the burn victim. “They left her to die because she kept them locked up. And because she was an accomplice to the abuse and torture inflicted on them.”

Deputy Waterstone removed his hat and scraped a hand through his hair. “So you’re saying that we have two psychos loose, not just one?”

Nick tasted grit in his mouth as he swallowed. “I believe so. At this point, we don’t know if Six, the subject unaccounted for, is dangerous. Seven killed Logger and Mason.”

“But a hired hit man killed Darren James,” Special Agent Hood said. “That would account for the difference in the MO.”

Jake stood. “Correct. If the Commander didn’t order the hit, then whoever his accomplice was ordered it.”

And the bastard still wasn’t talking.