Page 37 of Midnight Creed

For more than a decade, she’d profiled dozens of twisted killers. Sometimes all she had were their victims—or pieces of them—to tell her what happened through the evidence left behind. But not being able to identify the victims would make their job more difficult.

“Do you have IDs for any of those victims?”

“Not for October. And only one from February.” He’d brought along a file folder, and now he slid it over to her.

“Do you think there could be more?”

“You know, not every department puts their unsolved homicides in ViCAP. Also, the ball-peen hammer might not have been identified or reported in some reports. That’s what got me the hits. But I’m still searching. So, you think it’s the same guy?”

“Could all be a coincidence.”

“Except you don’t believe in coincidences.” He tipped his coffee cup at her to emphasize the point before taking a sip. “You said the MPD may have found his throwaway at this last scene?”

“We’re hoping it’s his.”

“If Kuszak pulls some DNA, I’ll have a whole new run at it.”

“If it’s the same guy, this certainly would eliminate him being homeless.”

“D.C., Jacksonville and New York City,” Alonzo said. “I haven’t been able to determine a pattern with those cities.”

“If there is one, I’m sure you’ll find it. Don’t stop looking though. I have a gut feeling there are other cities.”

25

The others began arriving. Their chatter echoed from across the empty cafeteria. Maggie had a chance to study them and their interactions, if only for the minutes it took to cross the huge room.

Gwen was the focus. She was the center of the pack and the obvious leader, although she never tried or liked being in charge. She had an undeniable air of authority, along with an innate compassion, that drew people to her. Dr. Gwen Patterson was a private psychologist who had been a consultant for the FBI even before Maggie arrived.

Gwen’s life partner, R.J. Tully, had been Maggie’s FBI partner until a few years ago. He was a seasoned agent when the two of them had been forced together. Back then, Tully’s directive from their assistant director was to bring calm and rationality to a rogue Maggie O’Dell.

That seemed like ages ago. Since then, they had traveled hundreds of miles together, shared many meals while tracking some crazed killers. Even with his bum knee, that she felt partially responsible for, he was still the agent she’d want in the field with her to cover her back.

The newbie was their forensic investigator and the assistant lab director, Isabel “Izzy” Kuszak. She was also the youngest of Maggie’s team. Small framed with a youthful face, she could easily pass for a teenager and usually dressed like one. Today was no different. She wore baggy cargo pants and black lace-up combat boots with her white lab coat. A neon-pink T-shirt peeked from underneath. Her pixie-cut hair was shaved up the back with a long fringe of bangs in the front. Its silver-gray matched her gray-blue eyes.

Keith Ganza, the director of the FBI Lab had recommended Kuszak when he turned down the position Maggie had offered to him. He told her he was planning to retire soon. Maggie’s mind stopped listening for a few minutes, trying to process the word “retire.” One more person she trusted, gone.

She barely heard Ganza while he recited a litany of the new assistant director’s qualities, finally landing on, “You know me,” Ganza said, “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. This kid’s wicked smart.” Then he added, not because he thought it would make a difference, but because he was Ganza, “She reminds me of you when you came in as a newbie.”

That seemed like a lifetime ago when everything was first-time interesting and exciting. Before the skepticism and all the other hard lessons. Sometimes bad guys got away. Sometimes they pretended to even be on your side. And always they left scars.

Ganza promised Kuszak would be an invaluable asset to the team if Maggie could overlook the young woman’s youth and inexperience. She wondered if he had said those same words about her years ago. Over a decade now.

Antonio Alonzo was young and brilliant as well. For as much as Kuszak looked like she threw together a strange wardrobe combination, Alonzo’s looked like he carefully curated it himself.

They were a motley crew of different ages, backgrounds, experiences, and expertise. But they were each a part of her team by invitation. Except for Julia Racine. She was here simply out of necessity. After all, this was the detective’s case. Otherwise, she’d never be on Maggie’s team. Racine didn’t play well with others. And for as long as Maggie had known the woman, she still didn’t trust her.

Maggie remained standing while the others took seats around the table, setting down what they brought with them: mugs, notepads, file folders, laptops and switching off cell phones.

All of them had given up their Saturday. Alonzo and Kuszak had come from different parts of Quantico’s campus. Gwen and Tully had driven from their Georgetown condo and Racine from her home.

Maggie asked Alonzo to share the information he’d already told her. She watched Racine while he went through the hits he’d gotten. She wasn’t sure what she expected, what she was looking for. Maybe she wanted Racine to gasp at the reality of how much she’d missed.

But Maggie reminded herself that Racine had only had this case for less than two weeks. Until the last murder, there was no reason to connect the dots. Actually, no dots to connect. Smart killers depended on that. They stayed ahead of the game, moved around, and targeted a vulnerable population that was difficult for law enforcement to track or even identify.

Listening to Alonzo, Maggie realized how daunting their task was.

When he was finished, she looked to Racine and asked, “Do we have an identity for either of the two D.C. victims?”