Profile of Terror (36 page)

"How do you know?" asked Brody.

"He had a fake driver's license in his pocket with his photo on it."

"Sweet Jesus," Brody shook his head and glanced at his brother.

Bryan held up his hand.  "That's not all.  The kid was wearing white coveralls, like the kind worn by house painters.  Didn't you tell me the Gamers might be wearing uniforms, like those worn by bakers, to make their victims feel safe?  Why not a house painter uniform?"

"Shit, Bryan, Devan Lucas was only sixteen- or seventeen-years-old."

His brow creased in concentration, Cameron said, "Don't forget we have eye witnesses who said our suspects are young.  Carly pointed out in her profile that the Gamers may be as young as teenagers."

"I'm having a hard time believing Devan Lucas is involved in our killings.  I've watched his brother and him grow up."

"Consider this," Cameron began.  "Detective Burton's DNA analysis reported our suspects are brothers.  I don't think that it's a coincidence that Devan Lucas has a brother, and the two are close as thieves.  C'mon, Brody, put it together."

"Here's one more thing," added Bryan.  "Devan died clutching a stun gun in his right hand."

Brody heard a ping from his cell, indicating he'd received an email.  Bradley Lucas had sent photographs of his two sons.  Brody quickly forwarded the message to Cameron.  "Put out a BOLO on Evan Lucas, last seen driving a 2012 white Chevy utility van. The license plate number is in Bradley's email.  Tell the deputies to use caution when approaching the van, and consider Evan armed and dangerous."

<><><> 

Kaitlyn smiled as she headed for the mailbox at the end of the long lane. It was an incredible day, the air brisk enough for a light jacket, but not cold enough for a winter coat.  Yellow, red, and orange leaves fell from trees on both sides of the driveway, and skittered across the road, drifting in the ditches.  Geese honked as they flew overhead, and she heard Gabe in the backyard, wielding an axe to chop firewood for a promised romantic evening, spending time together in front of one of the fireplaces in the main house.

Reaching the mailbox, she shoved her mother's birthday card inside then noticed a van stopping near her.  A handsome boy leaned his head out the window and called out, "Hello there.  Can you give me directions?"

Kaitlyn shook her head, and had begun to walk back to the house, when she realized the boy was out of the van and walking behind her.  "Aren't you Miss Reece?  You teach at Morel Elementary, don't you?  Wait a minute.  My little sister Tiffany is in your class."

Kaitlyn had turned to tell him that she had three little girls named Tiffany in her class, when he struck her with something on her neck that sent a vicious electrical current racing through her body like a freight train, causing her muscles to spasm and making her legs useless.  The boy caught her as she collapsed, threw her over his shoulder, and rushed back to the van where he shoved her in the back.  Climbing inside, he pulled a syringe out of a gym bag, along with a roll of duct tape.

"Don't try to move, Kaitlyn," the boy said, and then laughed.  "As if you could."

He heard the motor of an oncoming car.  He leapt out of the back, slammed the doors, and raced to the front of the van, where he jumped in and sped down the road.

<><><> 

Dwight Goodman was driving down the highway on his way to the state park where he and his date, Jenny Hartley, would have a picnic.  It was his first date with Jenny.  In fact, it was his first date with anyone.  Sneaking a glance at Jenny, he smiled.  She was the prettiest girl in the freshman class, and getting a date with her was like winning the lottery.  His stomach growled, and he prayed Jenny had not heard.  He was starving.  His mom had packed the picnic baskets with her special chicken salad with cranberries and pecans, waffle-cut carrots with ranch dip, a loaf of fresh French bread, a jug of iced tea, and two slices of what she called her to-die-for-dark-chocolate-cheesecake.

He was driving behind a van, when Jenny let out a shriek that sounded like his grandma's cat after she'd rocked on its tail. 

"Look!  Someone in that van is kicking at the glass in the back door.  It's a woman.  She's pounding on the glass with her fists now."

Dwight adjusted his glasses and saw that Jenny was telling the truth.  Someone was trying to get out of that van.  Fishing his cell phone out of his jeans' pocket, he pressed the buttons for 9-1-1 with his thumb, and then put it to his ear.

"What is your emergency?" asked the dispatcher.

"I think I'm reporting a possible kidnapping," said Dwight.

"What do you mean you think?  You're either reporting a kidnapping or you aren't."

"Tell her about the woman," Jenny whispered as she tapped his arm with her finger.

"There's a woman in the back of a van who's kicking at the glass in the back door.  I think she's trying to escape."

"What van?"

"The van that I'm driving behind."

"Can you describe the van, son?"

"Sure.  The van is a Chevy.  It's white and fairly new.  Maybe a 2011 or 2012."

Dwight could hear the rustle of paper in the background until the dispatcher put him on hold.  Soon she returned with urgency in her voice, "Sir, would you please tell me your location?"

"We're on U.S. Route 136, and we're half-way between Veedersburg and Morel."

"Thank you.  Now would you please tell me the make, model and color of the vehicle you're driving?"

"My dad loaned me his truck.  It's a brand-new, black Dodge Ram.  He's only had it a week." 

Dwight heard someone whisper to the dispatcher. "Are you close enough to the van to get the license plate number?"

"Oh, I can read it."  As soon as he read the number to the dispatcher, her voice changed from urgent to fear.

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say.  But my name is Dwight Goodman."

"Dwight, I need for you to slow down and put some distance between your vehicle and the van ahead of you."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that.  The lady just kicked out the glass and she's waving her arms at us.  We have to help her."

<><><> 

Gabe swung at the last log, breaking it in two with his axe.  Glancing at the cord of wood behind him, he decided they had enough wood for the fireplace that night.  In fact, he'd cut enough wood to keep the fireplace roaring for many nights to come.  As he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow, he realized Kaitlyn hadn't returned from the mailbox.

"Kaitlyn," he called out.  When he got no answer, he went to the driveway and looked down the long lane to the mailbox.  When he didn't see Kaitlyn, he entered the house through the kitchen door. 

He called her name as he checked the rooms in the lower level of the house, but didn't find her.  Upstairs, he did the same, but Kaitlyn wasn't to be found.  Flying down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, he reached the floor below, then raced out of the house toward the Honeymoon Cottage, where he saw Bryan and his two brothers sitting at the picnic table by the lake.  He sprinted to them, panic rising in him like a NASA rocket.  "Have you seen Kaitlyn?"

All three men shook their heads. 

"What's wrong, Gabe?" asked Brody.

"Kaitlyn's gone.  She walked to the mailbox and hasn't returned.  I've looked in every room of the house.  She's gone!"

Suddenly, Cameron's cell phone sounded.  He talked for a short time and then put it on speaker.  "Ellen, Sheriff Chase is here.  Would you please repeat what you just told me?"

"I said I just got a call from a Dwight Goodman who is driving behind a white van that has a license plate number matching the one in the BOLO you just put out.  The kid says there's a woman trapped in back of the van and she kicked out one of the glass windows in the rear door and is waving frantically for help."

"Where is the van?" asked Brody.

"Dwight says they're halfway between Veedersburg and Morel on 136," Ellen said. "The problem is I asked the kid to slow down and put some distance between his truck and the van, and he won't do it.  He's determined to help her."

"You tell that kid to back off before he gets himself killed," Brody shouted.  "Give all deputies in the area the location of that van now!"

To Gabe, he said, "Evan Lucas is driving that van.  We think he's one of the Gamers.  There's a good chance that the woman waving for help is Kaitlyn.  Get the helicopter in the air. I'm staying here with Carly."

<><><> 

Angrily, Evan pounded the steering wheel.   The effect of the stun gun was wearing off and Kaitlyn was moving her arms and legs.   He'd panicked when he saw the truck heading toward them, and had dropped the syringe, along with the duct tape.  That meant there was nothing to hold Kaitlyn down, and he couldn't leave the driver seat because the truck was still tailing them.  What would Devan do?  A visual of his brother's bloody body on the road sprung into his head.  The pain of the memory knifed through him, leaving him breathless, tears blurring his vision.  He needed his twin.  Devan would know what to do.

He glanced in the rearview mirror.  Sitting up, Kaitlyn was rubbing her arms and legs.  "Just relax, Kaitlyn.  Be good back there and I won't hurt you."

Whirling around to face him, she met his eyes in the mirror.  "Who are you?"

"My name is Jon," he lied.  "My little sister, Tiffany, is in your class at Morel Elementary.  She's in the hospital with a broken leg and wouldn't stop crying until I promised to bring her favorite teacher to her.  That's where we're headed — to the hospital."

Kaitlyn rubbed her neck. "What did you hit me with?  Why did you hurt me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, but I knew how disappointed Tiffany would be if I didn't bring you to the hospital to see her."

Seeing the athletic bag, she dragged it to her and looked inside.  "I don't know what your name is, but you don't have a sister named Tiffany.  What you
do
have is a bag with a stun gun, syringe, drug vials, and duct tape."  Kaitlyn pressed the stun gun to his neck.  "I'm now in control, you sick freak.  If you think I don't know how to use this baby, just try me."

"Listen, I already told you.  I won't hurt you."

"Too bad I can't make the same promise," Kaitlyn shot him a glare in the mirror, and then glanced at the weapon in her hand.  "Isn't this the Deadly Tech Model 5 with the rechargeable flashlight?  Nice choice.  If I recall, it packs a powerful punch of 19 million volts."

"What?  How did you know that?" 

"If you make one wrong move, you're going to get the same kind of up-close-and-personal experience you gave me of what 19 million volts feels like.  Understand?"