Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redemption for Avery (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Ryker Townsend FBI Profiler Book 2) (4 page)

She’d come for her brother, Sam, the man I had come to know as Mozart.

“No one knew about the bear except for a short list of folks.” He crossed his arms. “I’m done answering questions. Tell me how you know about the bear ears and the heart. Now.”

Travelodge

Big Bear Lake, California

Dawn

Ryker Townsend

“I know about your sister’s bear ears and red heart because I read it in her case file,” I said.

Mozart narrowed his eyes.

“Even if I didn’t think that was complete bullshit, why are you fixated on that heart? Why do you think someone else killed my—” He lowered his chin and let silence wash over him. “I’ve replayed what happened to her in my mind, over and over. I should’ve done something.”

Guilt had stripped Mozart of his childhood and now stood the chance of ravaging the rest of his life if Avery’s case was reopened because the true UNSUB had never been caught.

“You were fifteen,” I said. “You didn’t know evil like that would touch her…or you and your family. If you did, with perfect hindsight, you would’ve done what SEALs do. They protect.”

Mozart slumped deeper into his chair and shook his head.

“Don’t paint me as a hero. When it comes to anything connected to Avery, I’m anything but that. I failed her. Not a day goes by that I don’t remember how much I let her down. Now Summer and I have a little girl and I—”

“Don’t go there. Whoever killed Avery is the bad guy, not you.”

It pained me to witness his self-inflicted beating and not see the way I’d sabotaged myself after my parents died—and time hadn’t solved the vicious cycle of condemnation. I had my bad days and my worse days. No doubt Mozart dealt with similar demons.

“Your SEAL team ended Hurst, but my instinct tells me there’s another serial killer, far more cunning, in Big Bear Lake. I don’t know how this is linked to your sister’s case, but I’m not giving up until I do. You have my word.”

“I want in on your investigation, even if it’s just as back-up. I can handle myself.”

“I have no doubt about that, but no. I have all the help I need.”

“You don’t understand. I have to do something. If Hurst didn’t kill Avery, the past will eat away at everything I thought I knew about who I am.”

I nodded and thought over what Mozart had shared.

I didn’t need his cooperation. He’d told me a great deal already, enough to jumpstart my hunt for Avery’s killer and find physical evidence to do it. But because of Avery, my case would be far from routine—and I had to trust my gut about giving this little girl peace. Avery and Mozart both needed closure.

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”

“What?” he asked.

I didn’t realize I had said the words of Queen Elizabeth II aloud.
God save the Queen.

“You must’ve loved your sister very much.” I drank my coffee and took comfort in his quiet company until a thought made my brain itch. “I have a question, but you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Go ahead. I’ve already had the door slammed in my face once this morning.”

I smiled. Mozart Reed had the potential of growing on me.

“I read in the Hurst file that you spearheaded the search for your sister’s killer for nineteen years. That’s a long time to dedicate your life.”

“And you want to know why I wasn’t in on the kill. My SEAL team put him down.”

“Yeah. Like I said, if this is too personal, you don’t have to—”

Mozart never let me finish.

“In that moment, I didn’t want Hurst dead. He wasn’t even close to being on my radar anymore.” Mozart’s gaze drifted toward the coffee cup in his hand. “I only wanted to protect Summer and save the other woman, too. Summer was the only one on my mind. I had to keep her safe.”

Mozart’s answer rang true and made clear that he had his head on straight. If I had any doubts about bringing on a hot-headed SEAL out for revenge onto my team, those doubts faded to nothing.

“I’d lived my life obsessed over the past. Hell, I had no idea how to move on. As far as I was concerned, the future didn’t exist, until I met Summer.”

Mozart shook his head with a faint smile.

“Now we have April.” The smile turned into a grin. “I have a daughter, man. I have someone to love as much as I still love my kid sister. It feels good to have a family again.”

Yes, Mozart Reed had indeed grown on me. Many men would’ve buckled under the weight of the tragedy that struck him and his family. Reed must’ve made a personal vow to hunt his sister’s killer and found justice nineteen years later, but at that moment of truth—when it came to ending a life or saving one—he chose life.

“Thanks for the Starbucks, Mozart. Leave your phone number. There’s a pen and notepad on the table. I’ll be in touch.”

“How do I know you’ll—?”

I didn’t let him finish. Mozart didn’t trust me. I hadn’t given him any reason to—
yet
.

“You don’t, but what do you have to lose? This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“You gotta earn your way onto my Christmas card list, Townsend. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Mozart left my motel room, burdening me with more than one dilemma.

If he pressed me for details—asking me about how I knew the things I did about Avery—how much would I tell him about my ‘encounters’ with his sister or how she died? Much of my gift depended upon trusting my instincts and interpreting the fragments that the victim allowed me to see, usually while I slept.

I walked over to the windows and yanked back the drapes to gaze upon a drab day. I wanted to hold Lucinda—to remember I wasn’t alone as I wrestled with my quandary—but she wasn’t here. I missed her.

My eyes took in the dark clouds that had nestled over the mountains and choked out the sun. Rain purged the small vacation town, gushing from gutters and through city sewers, but I felt the taint of the UNSUB’s undeniable presence. Nothing would wash away the evil I sensed to my bones.

I’d learned to rely on my instincts, but how could I explain my gift to someone as grounded in reality as Mozart Reed?

Perhaps an even bigger worry came from how my mind worked, without a socially acceptable filter. I could say the wrong thing and Mozart would pay the price. No matter how strong and resilient this Navy SEAL appeared to be, some things a grieving brother should never hear. Using the wrong word to explain things to him, I could plant the seed of a never-ending nightmare into his life, creating a mental image of his sister that would haunt him forever.

I wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone. That was
my
fate to bear—to see what the dead see—no one else should have to. I couldn’t share even a fragment of Avery’s horror with him. Something made me sure she wouldn’t want him to know the intimate details of how she died—the abuse and torture that a little girl had no reason to understand at her age.

But an even bigger problem was that I couldn’t risk Mozart finding out my secret. Trusting my gift to a stranger wasn’t about the threat to my career. There was much more at play. If it became public knowledge that I relied on visions to solve cases, every investigation I ever touched would be called into question, in court. The guilty could be set free.

Logic screamed at me to keep Mozart out of the investigation and hold tightly to my secret. That would’ve been the prudent thing to do, except for one thing. Avery’s face haunted me as if she were my own sister. Whatever my decision would be, I knew in my heart that logic would have nothing to do with it.

Whatever I would do, I’d do it for Avery.

Big Bear Lake

North Shore Drive

Morning

Ryker Townsend

Next of kin notifications were rare occurrences for me. Lucinda drove the Tahoe while I wallowed in my thoughts, dreading what would come.

“Are notifications hard for you…after your dreams, that is?” Lucinda asked as she turned into the gated enclave of private residences off North Shore Drive where Mark and Sandra Hubbard lived, the father and mother of Lily Rae Hubbard, their only child.

We were to meet Deputy Zander Lovell with the Sheriff’s office. His police cruiser was parked outside the sprawling home, with him sitting inside. He’d waited for us to arrive. Another car was parked alongside Lovell’s vehicle without an occupant—a black Ford F-150 truck.

“Notifications are no harder than they are for you, or anyone.” I lied.

After Lily found me while I slept three nights ago—and allowed me to witness the intimacy of her degradation and death—I’d have a difficult time staring into the eyes of her family and pretending I didn’t know her. I had seen her at the worst moment of her life and I would have to fight not to show it on my face.

Lucinda parked the Tahoe and turned to me.

“You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I stepped out of the SUV and caught movement in the windows on the second floor. The family must’ve seen us pull up.

“They know we’re here,” Lucinda said. She’d seen the drapes move, as I had.

“I want time in Lily’s bedroom,” I said. “Let’s hope they allow it.”

“You’ll get the time, one way or another,” Crowley promised.

Many people believed death to be a solitary act. That human beings come into life alone as a baby and die in isolation, but if Lily had reached out to
me
, who else could she have tried connecting with at the time of her death? Perhaps the dead reach out all the time—and their survivors don’t hear or feel them leave—but
I
do. I hear them.

It’s my calling to bear witness to their passing—the ones taken in violence—but I have come to believe their screams are not the only echoes they leave behind. When the dead crossover, their love radiates from them like a sweet ripple on still water. The wake of their existence and their link to humanity touches each of us, enough to say, ‘
Do not forget me
.’

On the day my parents died, I sensed their love wash over me and through me. The love they left behind—the endless bounty of a lifetime—helped me get over the pain of losing them. I could only hope the Hubbard family would remember Lily as she had lived, not by the grotesque way she had been taken from them.

“Let’s do this,” I said to Crowley.

I took strength in my mother’s love and braced for meeting Lily’s parents. As we approached the deputy’s patrol car, he stepped out, sporting a toothpick in his mouth.

“You must be Special Agent Crowley.” Sheriff’s Deputy Zander Lovell extended his hand and Lucinda took it.

“Deputy Lovell.” Crowley turned toward me and said, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Ryker Townsend. Thanks for arranging this. It’s important we speak to the family as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do the notification. This is
my
show.” Deputy Lovell pulled up his duty belt with a grimace. He looked constipated.

“Do you recognize the F-150, Deputy?” I asked. “Does it belong to the Hubbard family?”

The officer glanced toward the truck and answered.

“No, that there belongs to Elias Fenton. He’s a reverend at True Light Ministry. The Hubbards are part of his church.”

“I thought
you
would be the one to tell the family about their daughter,” Crowley said.

“Oh, I’ll be the one to tell them, alright,” Lovell said. “Don’t you worry about that, little lady.”

“That’s Special Agent Crowley, Deputy,” she said. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Hey, no sense gettin’ your panties in a wad.” The man smirked and twitched his toothpick.

“Misogyny should not be a vocation, Deputy. Especially around a woman with a gun,” I said. “Tell me. When you count your balls, are you capable of getting the same answer twice?”

“Miss who? What?”

The math problem had stumped him. I knew Crowley didn’t need my help to defend her gender, but why should
she
have all the fun?

“I didn’t mean no offense,” Lovell said.

I feared I would have to arrest him for murdering the English language.

“When Lily didn’t come home that first night, Sandra called Elias,” the deputy said. “That’s why he’s here. He’s been a comfort to the family. After today, they’ll need him even more.”

I nodded and followed the deputy to the front door, wondering how he knew about the comings and goings at the Hubbard house, especially with him being on a first name basis with the family. Small town gossip moved faster than lice in grade school.

Crowley rang the door bell.

A tall man dressed in khaki slacks, a white polo shirt, and navy sport coat answered the door. He wore his blond hair long, to the shoulder, and had ice blue eyes. His face had deep furrows into his skin, but the wrinkles only gave more character to his handsome face. If I had to guess his age, I’d place him in his late forties or early fifties.

“Elias. This here is the FBI.” Deputy Lovell made the introductions. “Reverend Elias Fenton.”

“Are the Hubbards at home?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, they are. Follow me.” Fenton led us through the foyer and into a library off the entry.

A wall of books dominated the high-ceiling room with oil paintings of landscapes adorning the walls. The tasteful décor looked fit for a magazine. Without a thing out of place, the room did not appear to be lived in. When I didn’t see any family portraits, I thought that was odd. I got the sense Lily had not stepped foot into the room much. Out of respect for her, I stood and would not sit.

As promised, Deputy Lovell took control and made introductions to the family. Mark Hubbard had graying hair with tanned skin earned on the golf course. He wore dark slacks and a red polo with a country club emblem. Sandra Hubbard had not combed her dark hair and her red-rimmed eyes gave insight into a mother’s pain. She wore a freshly-pressed beige pantsuit. If I had to guess, I would’ve bet money that Mrs. Hubbard wouldn’t have dressed for our visit. She would’ve preferred staying in bed.

“Afraid I have some bad news,” Deputy Zander Lovell shot a smug glance toward Crowley as if sharing such horrific news would be a perk of the job. “Lily is dead. Hikers found her body in the national park, by a trail.”

“What?” The skin of Mark Hubbard’s face flushed with blood and turned a deep shade of crimson. “How was she…killed? Was it an accident?”

“No accident.” The deputy shook his head and yanked up his duty belt. “Someone gutted her like a fish.”

“Oh, God.” Sandra Hubbard doubled over and grabbed her stomach. “Not my Lily.”

Crowley glared at the deputy as Sandra cried and gasped for air. Normally I would’ve watched the family’s reaction more closely, to see if their emotions were genuine. This time, I couldn’t take my eyes off the deputy. Lovell had no sympathy. If I hadn’t been focused on him, I would’ve missed his subtle smile.

“No, please no. This can’t be happening.” Tears streaked Sandra Hubbard’s blotchy red face as she rocked where she sat. “Not my little girl.”

From records Sinead had gathered, Lily Rae Hubbard was the only child to Sandra, from a previous marriage. Mark Hubbard had adopted the girl, but from the body language I witnessed, the man had issues. He made no effort to comfort his wife.

“Lily got herself into trouble. Real trouble, this time. She’d become a willful, disrespectful child because you were too soft on her. You have no one else to blame,” Mr. Hubbard glared at his wife as if no one else were in the room.

“Now isn’t the time for accusations, Mark,” Reverend Fenton said. “You’re both grieving over Lily.”

Mark clenched his jaw.

“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard,” I said. “Lily has left her mark on this world…in you. A girl like your Lily touched the people she met. She will be missed.”

When Sandra looked up at me in sorrowful gratitude, her eyes brimming with tears, I spotted a box of tissues on a nearby table and handed it to her.

“Can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to harm your daughter?” I asked.

“No, everyone loved her. Who would kill my baby?” Sandra cried.

“The truth is, Lily had been spending more time away from home,” Mr. Hubbard said. “She didn’t like my rules, but that kid needed discipline.”

“Was Lily seeing anyone?” Crowley asked. “A boy from school, maybe?”

Mark rolled his eyes and turned away from his wife. Sandra shed fresh tears and wiped her nose with a tissue.

“Grayson Barbour. He goes to Lakeside High School, like Lily does.” She sobbed. “Like she did, I mean.”

“Ask anyone. That Barbour kid was trouble for her.” Hubbard shifted his gaze toward Sandra. “I tried to warn you.”

“How so?” Crowley asked. “What kind of trouble?”

“He called and sent text messages to her all the time,” Sandra said. “It’s like he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Grayson was jealous over the least little thing.”

“I think Lily had a physical relationship with that boy,” Hubbard said.

“You don’t know that.” Sandra glared at her husband, but when he returned her stare, she backed down, hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You always had blinders on when it came to that girl.” He grimaced before he turned his attention toward the deputy. “Where is she? Lily.”

“Her body is at the coroner’s office, but the FBI brought their own medical examiner and two other CSI types to help process the evidence. That’s what they’re doing now. There will be an autopsy,” Deputy Lovell said. “I’ll contact you when you can make arrangements. I’m sure you’ll want to have her cremated.”

Sandra Hubbard gasped and lost it again.

“You’ve said enough, Deputy.” I gritted my teeth and glared at the man, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “I would like to see your daughter’s room. Would that be possible?”

“It’s just the way she left it, after she—” Lily’s mother stopped and shot a fleeting glance to her husband. When her fingers shook, she clutched at her tissue to stop her trembles.

Mr. Hubbard heaved a burdened sigh.

“She took off last week. Friday night,” he said. “We don’t know where she went or who she stayed with.” After a long moment of silence, he finally added, “I kicked her out.”

“You never reported this?” I asked.

Hubbard only shook his head ‘no.’

“She didn’t take a car?” Crowley asked.

“No. I locked the door on her. I don’t know what happened,” he said. “She had her purse and a small bag. That’s all I know.”

Whatever motive Lily’s father had to delay reporting her missing, he had made it easy for the UNSUB to cover his tracks. Hubbard’s pride or shame or guilt had lost precious time for authorities to find her—and Mrs. Hubbard hadn’t intervened, not even for the sake of her daughter.

“Do you remember what she wore?” Crowley pulled out a notepad and a pen.

Mrs. Hubbard described her daughter’s clothes from jeans to a distinctive black T-shirt with the words ‘Golden State of Mind’ across the front, and a pair of red twill Vans on her feet.

When I got the attention of Deputy Lovell, I said, “Canvass the neighbors. See if anyone remembers Lily leaving Friday night. Someone might’ve picked her up. A vehicle description would be helpful.”

“Will do,” the deputy said.

A strained hush fell over the room. A clock on the wall ticked for what felt like an eternity before Mrs. Hubbard broke the tension. She rose off the sofa and spoke.

“I’ll show you to her room, Agent Townsend.”

Lily’s mother kept her head down and didn’t look for approval from her husband. She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.