Chapter 7

"We've got another missing persons, Cap. Another girl. But this one came with a bonus."

"What do you mean, a bonus," the captain said, leaning back in his chair and staring at Detective Dean Campbell.

"Our guy wasn't just happy with taking one girl. He had to kill someone too."

Kaylee looked up from where she was sitting at an empty desk in the bull pen, a stack of mug shot books in front of her. Her heart began to race. Had he given up? Was he moving on and going to leave her alone? Oh God, what a selfish thought to have, that she'd be glad he was moving on to other girls and forgetting about her.

"Did you get names?"

"Yeah, the missing girl is," Campbell flipped through his notebook, squinting a little to read his own writing. "Here it is. Christina Edwards, age 23, she's a waitress."

Now it was the captain's turn to look up as Kaylee gasped in horror. "Tina? He took Tina?"

The captain rose from behind his desk, going out the open doorway and into the bull pen to the desk where she sat. He took the chair that was bolted down next to the desk. "Did you know the victim, Miss Cranston?"

"I ... I worked ... work with her. We're friends. Oh God, you said someone died with her. It wasn't Angie Devereaux, was it?"

Campbell looked at his notes again. "Yes, I'm sorry. It was."

"They were lovers," Kaylee whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Tina wanted to marry her." She looked up at the Captain with horror filled eyes. "It's because of me, he took her to get to me."

Campbell went to the water cooler that sat just inside the door, filling a cup and bringing it back to Kaylee. He knelt next to her, holding out the water. "No, Miss Cranston. It's because of him, not you."

Kaylee gave a hoarse laugh as she took the cup. "Do they train you guys to say that stuff at cop school?"

Campbell laughed. "Yeah, it's a pretty standard line. But it's also true. This is on him, it doesn't have a thing to do with you or what you did or want."

"So how are you going to find her?" Kaylee asked, setting the cup down next to the last book she'd gone through. "He's not in any of these," she said, waving her hand at the large stack of books.

"Miss Cranston, we have people out there searching clues. We have them hunting down the ribbon, finding stores where it could be purchased. We have them doing a house to house at every crime scene. I've got my best detectives on this case. We'll find him. You just have to give us a chance."

"Will you find him before he kills Tina?" she asked softly.

The captain shut his eyes. "We hope so, Miss Cranston. We can only hope and pray so."

Tina's eyes fluttered open, feeling gummy and sticky, her eyes burning in the bright lights of the room. She tried to lift her hand to rub them and felt a knife blade like pain in her arm. Looking down, she could see she was tied, big plastic zip ties digging cruelly into her wrists and ankles. She still wore the tee shirt she'd put on last night after her and Angie had made up from their latest fight. But it was pulled up, almost to her waist, leaving the bottom half of her open and vulnerable.

Her eyes flashed around the room, desperate to see if she recognized anything that would tell her where she was, or maybe a friend who would suddenly yell out "Surprise!" and then release her from this horrid nightmare she was in. But there was nothing, only cement walls and white linoleum. She couldn't turn her head, so she had no idea what or who was behind her.

His voice had her head craning, trying to see over the back of the chair she was tied to, to see him.

"It's about time you woke up, Tina. I was beginning to think you didn't like our little playtime in the garage."

Oh God, the garage, the man who'd come on her. She'd thought that to be a dream.

"Ah, I see you're remembering now. It was much fun for me, killing always makes me horny," he said, his voice breaking out in yipping chuckles. "But now we have to work. We have to make you pretty for the pictures I want to take. They are for your public you know," he said, coming up beside her.

Tina looked up, almost afraid to see his face, to look into the face of a monster that could do what he'd done tonight. It was almost anticlimactic. He was so normal looking. He was almost pudgy and his dark brown hair was parted on the side, black rimmed glasses with thick lenses making his eyes look huge. The color was weird, an icy blue that looked almost white, the color that you'd see on some breeds of dogs. His mouth was turned up in a smile of welcome, showing white, slightly crooked teeth.

"Not what you expected?" he asked her, his smile widening. "I never am," he sighed. "You all expect someone who looks like a skuzzy killer type. Don't you remember Ted Bundy? The man was going to college; they talked of his running for a political seat. He was the clean cut all American boy next door who just happened to enjoy fucking dead girls."

Tina shuddered turning her face away. She felt his fingers on her jaw, turning her back around.

"Now let's not be rude. You should always make eye contact when speaking to someone. It's only polite. Besides, we have to clean you up. You can't have your picture taken looking the way you do now." He held her face still, using a rag to wipe off the dried ejaculate that coated her face, rubbing hard until she whimpered with the pain of it.

Then he pulled a brush from his back pocket, pulling her hair forward to brush it gently, getting rid of all the snarls until it flowed like dark silk across her shoulders. "So pretty," he murmured, his eyes going a little hazy as he stared down at her. "So sweet, and soft."

He reached into the front pocket of his pants, pulling out the long red ribbon, smoothing the wrinkles out of the bright material. Holding her hair gently in one fist, he threaded the ribbon under it, pulling it up and dropping her hair over the top. Then he carefully tied the bow, fussing with the ends until it sat the way he wished, slipping it over until it lay just above her left ear.

"Almost perfect," he said, as if speaking just to himself. He turned away, walking behind her and she heard the clink of metal against metal.

Tina watched the corner of her chair, seeking out the dark form of his shadow, waiting for him to come back to her. What would he do next?

She screamed as he walked around the chair, for in his hands was the knife, still with a slightly pink tinge on the metal from Angie's blood.

Kaylee was still sitting at the desk when the envelope arrived. Next to her elbow were wrappers from the hamburger that Gabe had brought back for her. An untouched chocolate shake sat next to it. She'd managed to eat the hamburger, through sheer will, she'd eaten every bite while he watched, knowing if she didn't eat he'd worry. And she wanted his mind on the case.

She watched as the uniform carried in the envelope, a large manila square, and took it to Gabe's office, handing it to him.

Gabe took it, glancing curiously at the address, his gaze sharpening before he looked up at her. His eyes met hers and she knew. That envelope had something to do with her.

Gabe took the envelope, his eyes scanning the heavy black writing done in thick marker. It was made out to Kaylee Cranston in care of Detective Gabe Hampton, no address or post mark. "Who gave this to you?" he asked the officer who delivered it.

"It was on the front desk. I was passing the sergeant on duty and he asked me to drop it off for you."

"Okay, thanks," Gabe said, dismissing the man. He reached into the top drawer of his desk, picking out a pair of latex gloves and sliding his hand into them. The flap on the back wasn't sealed, it was taped down and he carefully ran his finger under it, pulling the tape free. They weren't going to get DNA from their killer from this.

He tipped the envelope, dropping the contents on the desk in front of him. There were a dozen or so pictures, a piece of red material, and a note that was printed on computer paper. Using a pen, he pushed the pictures around until he could see them better.

He heard her gasp before he knew she was in the room. Without looking up, he set the envelope on top of the pictures, covering them from her eyes before he got up and went to her, closing his outside door.

Kaylee stood there, the pictures burned into her mind, every horrid image, every grotesque thing done, running over and over like a slide show in her head. "That's Tina," she croaked, looking up at Gabe. "He's ... He's..." she couldn't finish the sentence, feeling suddenly light headed.

"Shh," Gabe said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his arms. "You shouldn't have seen those." He pulled her closer, silently berating himself for not closing his door before he opened the envelope.

"Is she dead?"

Gabe let his head rest against her hair, breathing a heavy sigh. "I don't know. I don't think so. He's taunting us with the knowledge that he has her and we don't know where he is." He pulled back, lifting her chin. "It's another mind game, Kaylee. It's another way to get to you. You can't let him though, because if you do, then he wins."

"It's not a mind game to Tina," she said shivering. "It's very real to her. I need to see those pictures."

Gabe sighed heavily. The last thing in this world he wanted was to let her see those pictures. "It's not a good idea, Kaylee," he said at last.

She jerked out of his arms, pushing him back. "She's my friend and he took her because of me! I want to see those pictures!"

"Kaylee, whoa, hold on sweetheart." He took a hold of her arms. "Calm down and I'll show you."

He reached in his desk, grabbing another pair of gloves. "These will probably be too big for you, but put them on anyway." He waited until she did, and then sat her down in a chair across from his desk. Picking up the pictures, he left two or three of the worst under the manila envelope, laying the others out.

He watched her face as she looked at the picture, saw shock and horror, anger and then finally, acceptance cross her expression.

Kaylee picked up one of the pictures, Tina, naked, her legs spread and tied to the chair, her wrists tied to the arms of the chair. She had a piece of tape across her mouth and tears gleamed wetly on her cheeks. Grasped in one hand was a small sign, hand written with the same kind of writing that was on the envelope. The words tore at Kaylee's heart as much as the pictures. They were a message to her. "Help me, Kaylee," was written in bold block letters.