Allison Brennan - Fear No Evil

“He popped up three years ago with another live murder and has killed five more women since Agent Henshaw died. The bodies of three earlier kills-April Klinger, Denise Arno, and Erica Gomez-have never been found, but we have evidence that they are in fact dead.”

“And you can’t find him?” Connor leaned over and put his hands on the table. “That doesn’t say much about our federal law enforcement, does it?”

Peterson dipped his head in partial acknowledgment, but his clenched jaw told Dillon he was angry. “We lost two good agents five years ago. We’re not going to lose more.”

“But you’re willing to sacrifice my sister!” Connor pushed himself away from the table and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“We’re not willing to sacrifice anyone,” Quinn responded.

“So what is the FBI doing?” Dillon kept his voice composed while his stomach churned. He was trying to keep things calm even when he felt anything but.

Peterson slapped a hand on the thick folder now in front of Dillon. “ This is who we’re up against. A man without remorse, a man who gets his kicks from raping, torturing, and murdering women. But make no mistake about it, he’s in it for another reason, too: to make money. The legal porn industry is a multi-billion-dollar business; the illegal porn industry is worth even more. He thrives on the risk, on taunting us, on being smarter than anyone else. You read his file, Dr. Kincaid, and let me know what you think.”

Dillon kept his voice low, but his tone radiated his own anger and helplessness. “From what you’ve told us so far, we have less than forty-five hours to find my sister before she’s dead. This isn’t pornography or sex slaves. This is murder .”

Peterson curtly nodded.

“What do we need to do? Between all of us we can pull together a million dollars, maybe.” Dillon glanced at his siblings.

“He isn’t holding her for ransom,” Peterson said.

“But we need resources to find him, don’t we? You’re basically saying that you don’t have the time, money, or manpower to track him down before Lucy’s time is up.”

Peterson opened his mouth, then closed it, then said, “To be perfectly honest, by the time we found out about the women after our agent was murdered, the countdown was too tight. We tried and failed to isolate the feed. And by the time the girls were dead, he had closed shop. He sends out false leads that we follow, wasting time. But we can’t not follow up. We found one of the victims the day after, but by that time he’d cleared out completely and the rape and murder were already available for download. We have more time now-more time than we’ve ever had. That’s in our favor. This is the number one priority of our e-crimes unit.”

“What about tracking the money?” Patrick spoke up. “The credit cards, the bank accounts? No one can funnel millions of dollars around the world without drawing the attention of the IRS and FBI.”

“True. Remember how Capone went down. Money. We’re working that angle with the Treasury Department. But this guy is good. Off-shore accounts, lots of cash, lots of movement. Every time we think we’re close-and we have seized several of his accounts-he changes tactics.”

“Like a chameleon,” Dillon said. “Constantly changing to blend in with the environment.”

“For all we know, he could be the CEO of a major corporation, or a self-employed accountant.”

“He would have to be financially savvy,” Dillon agreed. “Someone with expert knowledge of banking, investments, money exchange, tax laws. He knows too much about the system to be an amateur.”

“Absolutely,” Peterson said.

“Which would suggest he went to school, has a degree, possibly worked in, still works in, the finance arena.”

Peterson nodded. “Our top profiler indicated the same thing.”

Dillon opened the file in front of him as Carina asked, “You said you found out about the feeds of the other victims too late to stop him. But we have time with Lucy. How did you find it so quickly?”

Peterson said nothing and Dillon looked up at him, read his expression. “An informant?” he asked.

Peterson dipped his head. “Of sorts.”

“Can this person help us isolate the feed? Someone willing to help?”

“She’s more than willing to help, but not us.”

“Why not?” Carina demanded. “Doesn’t she know a life is at stake?”

“More than anyone,” Peterson said, “but I don’t know where she is. She feeds me information and I forward it to the appropriate people.”

“She can’t be hard to find,” Patrick said.

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Peterson said. “I tried to bring her back with this case, but she’s not buying it. If she learns anything, she’ll let me know.”

“That’s not good enough!” Connor exclaimed.

Dillon listened to what Quinn Peterson said-and what he didn’t say. “Who is she?”

“A former FBI agent.”

“And?”

Joseph Garcia spoke up. “Kate Donovan is notorious in the department. You either love her or you hate her. Agent Paige Henshaw was Donovan’s partner. They set up the sting after Trask was suspected of killing a teenage girl online. But-and no one is exactly sure what happened because Donovan disappeared-apparently she and Henshaw set up a sting without any authority. They walked into a trap. Henshaw was kidnapped, raped, and stabbed to death. Donovan missed saving her by minutes.”

“Or getting herself killed as well,” Peterson mumbled.

“Why is she a former agent?” Dillon asked. “Did she quit?”

Garcia raised his eyebrows, glanced at Peterson. “That was before my time. I only know the rumors.”

Peterson sighed. “When Agent Henshaw went missing, Kate was told to step back. The Office of Professional Responsibility wanted to talk to her about why they set up the sting without backup and in direct violation of their orders. Instead, Kate went underground to find her partner. She resurfaced only to ask for backup, but when teams were sent to two false locations and she claimed she’d finally isolated the feed, it was the case of crying wolf. No one believed her, and after the death of one agent and Henshaw still missing, the powers that be refused to act on unsubstantiated data. After Paige Henshaw died, Kate disappeared. She was right that last time, but the FBI had acted too late.”

Dillon stared at the documents in front of him, pages of reports about the activities of “Trask.” The films, rapes, murders. Suspected and proven. His extensive pornography network.

“Trask thinks of himself as playing a role like an actor. But he considers himself superior to Hollywood types,” Dillon said slowly. “He’s smart, probably a genius-level IQ, but for him I think this is more a game, a sense of grandstanding, showing off his intelligence. But why not fraud? Theft? Hacking into banks? Something about this manner of gamesmanship, this online show, fuels his fantasy. There’s something very personal in his choice of murder.”

“Yeah, he gets his thrills from killing women,” Connor spat out. “Talking about this bastard isn’t getting us any closer to finding Lucy.”

Dillon stared at Connor, wishing he could release his own rage and frustration, but he would leave that to his more volatile brother. “If we don’t understand him, we’ll never find him.”

“Fuck that! We’re sitting around doing nothing while Lucy is…is-” Connor couldn’t finish. He stared at the computer screen, drawing all their eyes to a half-naked Lucy. Scared and vulnerable. Tears coated Connor’s eyes and he ran a hand over his face. Carina squeezed his arm.

“I’m sorry, Dil.” Connor’s voice was thick with emotion.