Once Taken (18 page)

This was how it always went. Killing the women was never his intention. But sooner or later the chains would give him no other choice. It was just a fact of life, and he’d never be able to change it.

The message came on their third day in New York, while Riley and April were sitting in the food court of the Museum Natural of History. They were eating hot dogs loaded with a variety of toppings. Riley was startled to see that her buzzing cell phone showed a text from Lucy.

“Sorry to bother U on vacation. Call if U can.”

Riley’s interest was piqued.

“What is it, Mom?” April asked Riley.

“It’s Lucy—I mean Agent Vargas. You met her the night we had the break-in.”

April looked intrigued. Riley hadn’t seen that look of honest interest on April’s face since they’d arrived in the city.

They’d been doing all the obligatory tourist things—visiting the Statue of Liberty, going to the top of the Empire State Building, and taking in a Broadway matinee. Still shaken from her ordeal, April’s earlier enthusiasm had faded.

Riley couldn’t blame her. The truth was, she was thinking that this trip might have been a bad idea from the beginning.

“What does she want?” April asked.

“She wants me to call,” Riley said. “It can wait.”

“Why wait?” April asked with a shrug.

It was a good question. It wasn’t as if Lucy was likely to spoil anything. Riley punched the number.

“Riley!” Lucy almost shouted when she answered. “Am I glad to talk to you!”

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve got another victim,” Lucy said.

Riley’s nerves quickened. She’d had a hunch that the killer was going to strike again sooner rather than later. Sometimes she didn’t like being right.

“I’m in Albany,” Lucy explained. “A woman here disappeared from her car. She was a nurse. In uniform, like the last one.”

Riley’s interest grew. That confirmed a definite pattern—a prison guard and now two nurses, all women in uniform. 

“Are you sure it’s our guy?” Riley asked.

“Yeah, our field office agents are sure too. The police found a small length of chain on the pavement. They knew about the chain killer, so they made a report to the FBI field office and the agents contacted me in Reedsport. Of course, the chain could just be a coincidence, but … ”

“But chains sure point to our psychopath,” Riley said, taking a long deep breath. Then she noticed that April was watching her and listening apprehensively.

“Why did you want to talk to me?” Riley asked.

A silence fell. Riley sensed that Lucy was getting ready to ask for a favor.

“Riley, I called it in to Quantico,” the junior agent said. “Agent Meredith said they’d send somebody up to partner with me. I don’t know who yet. And of course I’m already working with the field office here, but …”

Lucy’s voice trailed off.

“Naw, it’s crazy,” she said. “You’re on vacation. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll let you go.”

“Tell me,” Riley said.

There was another pause.

“Look, whoever they send up, I’m probably going to be lead investigator, because I’m on this case already. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I’m already feeling out of my depth. I was wondering if you could come up and …”

Lucy stopped again, but she didn’t need to finish her sentence. Riley understood perfectly that Lucy wanted her to take charge again.

“I don’t know about this, Lucy,” Riley said. “Meredith has got me under pretty strict orders to stay on leave.”

“I understand,” Lucy said. “I knew it was crazy. Sorry to bother you.”

“No, wait, don’t hang up,” Riley said.

Another silence fell. Riley wavered as to what to say.

“Let me get back to you,” she finally said.

“Okay,” Lucy replied.

They ended the call.

“What was that about?” April asked.

“There’s been another abduction in Upstate New York,” Riley said. “Lucy wants me to come up and work on it.”

April’s eyes widened.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m thinking maybe I should go,” Riley said. “I’d have to get the next train to Albany.”

April looked alarmed.

“Oh, no, Mom,” she said. “Don’t even think of it. You’re not sending me back to stay with Dad. I’m just not going there.”

Riley sighed. April had a point. But what were the alternatives?

Then April said, “Why don’t I come with you?”

She was smiling. Riley found it nice to see her smile again.

“Maybe I could help,” April added.

“Absolutely not,” Riley said. “If you come, you’re staying put in our hotel room. And I don’t want to hear any complaints about it.”

April pouted just a little.

“Okay,” she said. “But the hotel had better have a pool. And I’ll have to buy a bathing suit. I’m still on vacation, even if you’re not.” April fell silent for a moment, then added, “I promise to let you do your job. I’ll stay out of the way.”

“It’s a deal,” Riley said. She dialed up Lucy to tell her that she was on her way.

*

About four hours later, Riley was in Albany, riding in a car with Lucy driving. They had just left April in a nice room that Lucy had reserved. It connected directly to another room where Lucy was staying. Riley and April had been able to buy a bathing suit right there in the hotel, and she had left her daughter happily splashing in the pool. It felt good to know that April was in a safe place.

Lucy drove them into a park and stopped near a taped-off lane where an empty car still sat on the road. A couple of Albany police officers were nearby. That portion of the surrounding park was also cordoned off from the public with crime scene tape.

“Here we are,” Lucy said. “I asked them to leave everything in place until you got here.”

They got out and went to inspect the scene. Riley could see that the front end of the abandoned car was dented, but not severely. It obviously had not been a high-speed crash. The driver’s door was still open.

“Her name is Carla Liston,” Lucy said. “She was on her way home after finishing her shift at the hospital and doing some shopping with a friend. That was Myra Cortese, another nurse. Liston had dropped Cortese off before she got to this point.”

Lucy pointed to the pavement in front of the car.

“Here’s just the trace of a skid mark,” she said. “And some glass shards on the road, but that’s from her headlight.”

Riley bent over and inspected the dent in the front of the car. “Have these white marks analyzed,” she said. “They’re sure to be from the killer’s vehicle and they’ll identify the make. That also means that it has a dented back bumper.”

Lucy said, “The abductor’s vehicle must have stopped suddenly at the light. My guess is that he deliberately tricked her into rear-ending him. He attacked her when she got out of her car to inspect the damage.”

Riley nodded in agreement.

“And we’re pretty sure he’s small and non-threatening,” Riley added. “So she wasn’t scared of him when she saw him. Have you got anything new in the way of a profile?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “I think he stutters. I got that from a florist who remembered a stranger who couldn’t tell her what he wanted to buy for the funeral.”

“Good work,” Riley said. “That could be an important lead.”

She looked more closely at the front of the woman’s car.

“The damage is higher up than you’d expect from a regular-sized car. That means probably a van or truck. We’d already guessed that he probably uses a van. What about the chain you said the cops found?”

Lucy took a color photograph out of a folder and handed it to Riley. The picture had been taken while the chain was still laying the pavement. It was a short, small brass chain, the kind that might be used to latch a door.

“It’s not the kind of chain he used to bind up the victims,” Lucy said. “Do you think he left it as some kind of a message?”

“I don’t think so,” Riley said. “He makes his statement when he hangs up the victim. My guess is that this just fell out of the back of his van without his noticing it. He probably drives around with all kinds of chains in the van.”

“But why?” Lucy asked. “I mean, aside from to attack his victims?”

Riley didn’t reply. It was a good question, and an important one. Whatever was driving this killer wasn’t coming clear to her. She wanted another opinion.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” Riley said.

She walked over to a park bench and sat down, then dialed Mike Nevins’s number on her cell phone. Her forensic psychiatrist friend had a wide range of experience with various kinds of murderers and other criminals. The FBI often called him in as consultant on difficult cases.

When she got him on the line, Riley said, “Mike, I need your input. I’m up in Albany working on the chain killer case. He’s abducted another woman.”

“I thought you were on leave,” Mike said.

Riley sighed. She really didn’t want to get into this with Mike. He wouldn’t approve of her defying Meredith’s orders.

“Well, I was, but now I’m not. Don’t ask a lot of questions about it, okay? I take it you’re familiar with the case.”

“Yes, I’ve been keeping up. He’s committed two murders. Both times the victims were found in straitjackets and wrapped with chains.”

“That’s right,” Riley said. “And they’re wrapped with far more chains than needed to hold anybody. He even wraps them across the victim’s mouth. It looks like he’s just obsessed with chains of all kinds. He must collect them wherever he goes. God knows how many he’s got at home. It’s like chains are some kind of fetish.”

Riley got up and began to pace.

“The thing is, I don’t get it,” she said. “Why chains? Why not something else? And why are they even needed on top of a straitjacket? That why I need your take on it.”

A long silence fell.

Finally, Mike said, “I can think of possible reasons, but at this point it would all just be speculation. I do know somebody you should talk to—but you’ll have to visit him in Sing Sing.”

A guard escorted Riley into a small room with cream-colored walls and a barred window. On one wall was a framed mirror that was obviously an observation window for anyone watching from the other side. The guard looked at Riley inquiringly and she said, “It’s okay.” He left and closed the door behind him.

The prisoner, clad in a dark green jumpsuit, was already sitting at the table waiting. He was smiling at her.

Riley wasn’t yet sure what to make of that smile. It was, after all, the smile of a cold-blooded killer who was serving a life sentence. She sat down in the vacant chair on the other side of the table, facing him.

Shane Hatcher was a sturdily built African-American. Mike Nevins had told Riley that he was fifty-five years old, but he looked younger. Riley guessed that he took good care of himself and made use of Sing Sing’s exercise equipment.

“So you must be Agent Riley Paige,” Hatcher said. “Mike Nevins has told me things about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Riley said.

Hatcher didn’t reply, and his smile got just a bit more inscrutable.

He was wearing small reading glasses that were perched low on the bridge of his nose. They didn’t make him look bookish, though. His face was too imposing for that.

Yesterday, Mike had told Riley she should talk to Hatcher, and she had promptly set up the visit for this morning. She’d made the two two-hour drive from Albany to Sing Sing Correctional Facility alone, because Lucy was waiting at the FBI field office in Albany for her new partner to arrive.

“I like ol’ Mike,” Hatcher said. “He contacted me after he read one of my articles. I’ve published in a few magazines, you know. I’ve done a lot of studying here on the inside. Criminology, mostly. I’ve gotten to be kind of an expert. Earned some respect in the field. I figure maybe if I can share some insights with the world, it’s some kind of atonement.”

He leaned toward her and added with a note of confidentiality, “I’ve changed a lot. I’m not like the kid that came in here.” After a brief silence, he added, “But then nobody stays the same for long in here.”

Riley sensed that this was true, but she wasn’t sure in what way. This man had been in Sing Sing for a long time. Was he rehabilitated, ready to return to free society? No parole board had thought so in several long decades. No, there was a reason Shane Hatcher was still behind bars. There was also a reason why he had survived. He might be a better human being than the kid who came in here, but he was also more cunning—perhaps more devious. That could actually be more dangerous.

He looked at Riley closely, apparently sizing her up.

“So why should I talk to you?” he asked. “I mean, what am I going to get out of the deal?”

It wasn’t an entirely unexpected question. Before coming here, Riley had wondered whether she should bring a little contraband—a pack of cigarettes or a small bottle of whiskey. Prisoners always wanted something from visitors. Hatcher was going to be no exception.

“What do you have in mind?” Riley asked cautiously.

Hatcher drummed his fingers on the table.

“Well, I’ll tell you what you want to know—as long as
you
tell me something in return when we’re done. Something that you don’t want people to know. Something you wouldn’t want anybody else to know.”

Riley tried to conceal her unease. This could be tricky. He very likely was hoping that she’d tell him something that he could use as leverage or even blackmail.

But what really surprised her was that he wasn’t asking for this favor up front, before he’d even talked to her. Riley could renege, of course.

Or could she? Did he have her correctly pegged as someone whose word could be trusted?

“It’s a deal,” she said.

“Then let’s get started,” Hatcher said.

Riley decided to get right to the point.

“Mike tells me that you know a lot about chains,” she said.

Hatcher’s smile turned a bit darker.

“Yeah, I was called ‘Shane the Chain’ when I was gangbanger back in the day. I did a lot of fighting with chains, sort of as a trademark. That made me one scary bro, so I rose up in the ranks real fast. And I killed a few people with those chains. Never mind how many. I was a street warrior, after all.”