Should Be Dead (The Valkyrie Smith Mystery Series Book 1) (3 page)

“She’s gone,” said one of the EMTs. “She was parked over there.”

“When did she leave?” Diekmann said.

They met him with silence, and Diekmann frowned. “Nobody
saw
her leave?”

“I guess she was in a hurry,” Riley said. “She was only here for a few minutes.”

Diekmann frowned, narrowing his eyes as he gazed down the road into a wall of fog.

Chapter 5

Val pulled into the parking lot of the
Bodega Bay Suites
at three a.m. The fog was so dense that she almost missed the turn. She parked the Packard in a handicapped space and climbed the metal stairs to the second floor, leaning stiffly on her cane all the way.

The cane was an unfortunate necessity, the result of having had several vertebrae in her back fused together permanently. The surgery had restored her mobility, but left her upper body stiff, so that she walked very upright, with her shoulders thrown proudly back. Sometimes, people mistook her posture as a sign of arrogance. They usually figured things out once they noticed the cane, but sometimes they didn’t. Val didn’t care. She couldn’t be bothered to explain things to people too stupid to figure them out on their own.

The inn was tucked into the redwoods along the coast, with a fireplace in every room and unobstructed views across Bodega Bay, all the way to the head. It would have made a perfect getaway for honeymooners, Val thought, or an older couple celebrating an anniversary. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be any more anniversaries for her. The killer had seen to that.

Val found a cheery fire burning in the fireplace, and the shades drawn wide to reveal the full moon hanging high over the bay. Long tendrils of fog threaded across the sky, creating the eerie impression that they had been woven together like a fabric. Val paid little attention to these details. She pulled her laptop computer out of the safe, and removed the hidden stereo cameras from her jacket.

Valkyrie tossed her jacket onto the bed, leaving her officer-length 1911 dangling from the shoulder holster under her left arm. As the laptop downloaded and processed the video files, Val set up a tripod in the middle of the room. She attached a high definition, multi-field projector, which she then plugged into the laptop via a long USB cable. She tapped the screen of her smartphone and said, “Call Matthew.”

While she waited for an answer, Val selected the largest wall in the room and began clearing obstructions out of the way. With a sharp upward push, the print of an old rowboat came free of the wall. The lamps were similarly easy to remove with a quick twist.

“Val?” said Matt’s voice through her phone.

“Evening, Matthew.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Bodega Bay, a little town on the coast, north of San Francisco. Did you trace that phone call for me?”

“I tried. It was the same as last time.”

“How is that possible? It was a different number.”

“The cell number was spoofed. Every time this creep calls, the number traces back to Washington D.C.”

“Is it possible he’s really there?”

“He could be anywhere. I’m telling you Valkyrie, not many people could pull this off. This isn’t just cloning a cell phone. This requires access to high-level accounts. The sort of stuff only an executive could access.”

“You think he might work for the phone company?”

“It’s possible. Or, he could be setting up a false trail just to throw us off track. Honestly, I don’t even know how the guy does it.”

“Thanks for trying, anyway.”

“So what happened? Did you go to the crime scene?”

She could almost see the pimply-faced college freshman leaning closer to the phone in anticipation. Of course, he wasn’t a freshman anymore, and he probably didn’t have pimples anymore, either. That had been years ago. Matt had started college the same time Kyle would have… just a few months after his death.

“I’m sending you a file,” Val said. “Get your projector up.”

Shuffling sounds came out of the phone, and Val quietly went about her business. When she was ready, she turned off the lights, turned down the gas in the fireplace, and activated the special program on her computer that controlled the projector. Instantly, the murder scene came to life in front of her in vivid, gory detail. The scene stretched around the corners of the room a full one hundred and eighty degrees, but because of the furnishings, only the image directly in front of her was clearly visible. Fortunately, Val was able to move the image with a simple click of the remote. The projection system was one of a kind, an invention of Matt’s, created solely for the purpose of examining such images.

“Okay, I have it!” Matt said. “Geez, Val. What am I looking at?”

“Kelly Brooks was a teacher at Stumptown Elementary. She missed two days of work without calling in. A deputy went out to check on her tonight, and this is what he found.”

“Unbelievable. This room is just like…” Matt’s voice trailed off.

“Like what happened to me and Tom?” she said. “I know, only it’s not. Not really. Take a closer look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Notice the weapons, the things the killer used: a broken glass, a tenderizer,
a cleaver!
The Collector doesn’t work like that. He uses his knife, his own personal knife, and he’s meticulous.”

“What about the bodies?” said Matt.

Val clicked the remote, and the image morphed into the scene behind the house. Matt made a choking sound. “Yggdrasil,” he said.

Val frowned. “What?”

 “In Norse mythology, the god Odin was crucified on Yggdrasil, the World Tree. He sacrificed an eye and was impaled on the tree by a spear, if I remember right.”

“Why?”

“To gain knowledge. He did it all to gain knowledge.”

“Strange. And the Collector identifies with him for some reason?”

“Some reason?” Matt said. “We know why, don’t we,
Valkyrie?
You’re special to him.”

“I suppose,” she said absently.

Val’s stomach churned. She didn’t like the idea that her name had somehow suggested a theme to the serial killer’s new M.O.

“He’s becoming more violent,” Matt said. “More aggressive. That could account for the changes from previous murders.”

“I don’t think so. Serial killers usually become more confident with each crime. They don’t get messier just for the fun of it. They get better at what they do. Sometimes, they look for victims that are more challenging, looking for a bigger rush, but if anything, they get
less
messy.”

“So you think this is a copycat?”

Val hit the remote and the screen flickered, bringing the cryptic writing in the living room back into focus. On the other end, Matt’s projector mimicked the display.

“What is that?” he said.

“I thought you might know.”

“I do. I mean, I know that it’s runic writing; it’s the alphabet of the Vikings… but why is it there?”

“Can you translate it?”

“Give me a minute.”

Val heard Matt’s keyboard as he worked his computer. A moment later, he said, “Oh! This is easy. I thought it might be Scandinavian, but it’s English.”

“What?”

Matt sighed, and she could imagine him rolling his eyes nearly a thousand miles away. “The letters of this alphabet represent phonetic sounds, just like they do in English. B for
brown,
D for
duck.
Just like that, except they look different. Whoever wrote this doesn’t actually speak Norwegian or anything. He just used the letters as a code. It’s English.”

“What does it say?”

“
I am Loki. I shake the earth.”

“Loki?”

“Another of the Scandinavian gods, like Odin and -
ahem
-
the Valkyries.”

“That means there’s a second killer.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s two of them, working together. Did you notice the hesitation marks on the victim’s wounds? The bizarre choice of weapons? It makes sense now. That was Loki. This was his first kill, I’m almost sure of it. He’s new at this. Erratic. He’s an amateur. He’s trying different things, but the theme… that’s the Collector. Or Odin, as he calls himself now. He’s the mastermind, the mentor.”

“Mentor? Two serial killers working together? Are they trying to qualify for group insurance or something? This is insane, Val. You need to get out of there. It’s not safe.”

“It’s never safe, Matt. I won’t quit until I stop him. You know that.”

“You mean
both
of them?”

“If that’s what it takes. If I’m right, this may be just the break we’ve been looking for.”

“How so?”

“Because if the Collector has joined up with this Loki character, then that’s his weak link. Loki is going to
lead
us
to him.”

Matt sighed. “Are there any more clues?”

“Not yet. I’m going to have another look at the crime scene in the morning. The place was dark and crawling with cops.”

“Cops! You didn’t talk to them, did you?”

“Relax, they think I’m a fed.”

“Val, do you know what happens to people who get caught impersonating federal agents?”

“I had to act quickly. It was the only way to get these videos. Besides, nobody even looked twice at the ID you made for me. You did an excellent job.”

“Those identities were created to fool citizens, not cops. If you’re not careful-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a day or two. I have to move fast anyway. This Loki character is going to get harder to catch with each kill.”

“Fine. What can I do to help?”

“Let’s start with a background search of this area. Can you hack into the sheriff’s criminal records? Somebody might already fit the profile.”

Val heard the clicking sounds of Matt’s keyboard through the phone. “No such luck,” he said after a minute. “Looks like the locals still do everything on paper. What’s with these rednecks and their fear of computers?”

“You do see the irony in what you just said, right? The guy who’s trying to hack into their system, complaining that they don’t trust computers?”

“You’ve got a point. Anyway, you’ll need to get in another way.”

“It’s all right. I think I have an in.”

“Making friends already?”

“Not exactly. There was a reporter at the scene, someone from an independent newspaper. He seemed to be close with the sheriff.”

“Be careful, Val. You remember what happened in the last small town.”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Keep it fresh in your memory, because I won’t be able to hack your way out of this one.”

“I’ll call when I have more,” Val said.

After hanging up, she dutifully cleaned her mess and then went to bed. Valkyrie kept her gun tucked under her pillow, and a wineglass perched on the doorknob when she crawled into bed. She curled up with a book that she had downloaded months ago, an e-book version of the King James Bible that she had been reading on her Kindle Paperwhite for weeks. Valkyrie had made up her mind to read the whole thing, no matter how long it might take, but she’d found that a handful of verses in the King’s English were an almost perfect cure for even the worst insomnia. She began to read:

“And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The LORD is my God.”

It didn’t take long for sleep to come. Unfortunately, none of her precautions could prevent the inevitable dreams that followed.

It began as always, on the old farm. The sun was shining, filtering down through scattered clouds, throwing a golden haze that made the whole world seem to glow. The chickens were pecking their way across the front lawn and around the old green tractor parked next to the fence. Waves of heat rolled off the barn’s tin roof.

Valkyrie found herself standing in the middle of the field, with the house directly behind her. A cool breeze rolled over her, causing the tall grain around her to shimmer and wave. She heard the distant rumble of thunder, and in the distance beyond the hills, saw a storm gathering. Val thought of rounding up the chickens and the goats ahead of the storm, but before she could even take a step, it was upon her.

The sky instantly turned black, and a fierce wind whipped up around her. The grain rolled wildly, and lightning flashed across the sky. The sharp scent of ozone filled her nostrils. The hairs rose on her arms and the back of her neck. A foreboding sense of evil came over her, as if the storm itself had come alive. Val turned and ran. She could sense the storm gathering behind her, chasing her, hunting her down like a wolf trailing a wild rabbit. She tried to run faster, but the grain whipped at her legs and lashed the exposed skin of her arms. It knotted around her shoes and her ankles, tripping her up so that she could barely walk. Valkyrie cried out, kicking and struggling as she fought to stay ahead of the storm.

Just up ahead, she saw the edge of the field. The sight gave her strength, and Valkyrie broke free. She circled around the well, crossing the front lawn in a few quick steps. As she reached the porch, the sky broke loose and rain came pouring down. Val ducked into the shelter of the enclosed porch. She took a deep, relieved breath. She had reached safety. The storm could no longer harm her. Lightning crackled and thunder boomed. Massive raindrops hammered against the roof. But for now, she was safe.

The world was dark, and Val reached up, pulling the string on the porch light. As it flickered to life, she saw to her horror that the rain had turned to blood. Crimson liquid poured down the windows, splashed in puddles on the ground and trickled down the front stairs. She backed away from the door, stepping inside the house. The smell of death washed over her, and Val choked. She saw movement in the corner of her eye and turned to see her husband Tom, his clothes soaked in blood, still bound to the chair where he had been murdered.

“Why, Valkyrie?” he said in a croaking voice. “Why did you leave me here to die?”