Rick Mofina - Full Tilt

The perfect child with the perfect grades to get into the perfect school and have the perfect life.

Well, guess what, Mother? I’m not perfect. Maybe I’ll end up being a crazy old lady like that Miss Havisham, living like a ghost in my gross bug-filled old house with my rotting wedding dress. Miss Havisham was dumb. You don’t let your life stop after a big disappointment. You have to keep going or you end up like a dead thing stuck in the past.

Wait a minute.

That’s it, that’s a theme about a character you can apply to your life.

No. No. It won’t work. How do I write that so it sounds all scholarly? I don’t know. This is so hard!

“You stay off your phone and get to work, Ashley!”

“I am working on it! Stop torturing me!”

Ashley’s phone chirped with a message, then another, then another.

Something was going on. It started with Breen. She had news about “an incident” she’d witnessed at school today. Nick Patterson, the boy Ashley was secretly in love with had just asked Shawna Cano for a date.

No! No! No! My life’s over!

Breen was telling everyone that it happened after school while they were waiting for the bus and Nick just walked up alone to a group where Shawna and Breen were and asked Shawna if she wanted to maybe go to McDonald’s or something sometime with him or whatever, and if not, he was cool with that, and how Shawna, who really liked him, said sure that would be fun and how Nick walked away smiling his dreamy smile. Everyone was now saying how that had to be the most romantic, bravest thing for Nick to do, right out there in front of everybody.

Ashley stuffed her face in her pillow.

Her life had been reduced to crap.

How did this happen?

It had to have been that day Nick had walked near her when she was at her locker with Madison and Madison was saying “Don’t move,” because Nick was standing three feet behind her talking to Brendan. Ashley wanted Madison to take a picture of him that close to her, he was so hot. Then Ashley thought of that horrible pimple she had on her forehead and began rummaging through her bag for her makeup. That’s when her books and stuff splashed on the floor and when she got down to pick stuff up, Nick just backed away still talking to Brendan.

Like I didn’t even exist!

Oh, my God. My life is ruined. I’m going to die. I need help. I need guidance. Still gripping her phone, Ashley texted Jenn.

OMFG where are you I need you!

It’d been several days since she last heard from her older and wiser friend from Milwaukee. And now she could really use help from an experienced woman of the world.

Like an answered prayer, Ashley’s phone chirped.

Sorry, been mega busy with stuff. I’m here, I’m here, what’s up?

In a series of desperate texts, Ashley told Jenn everything.

Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I’ll get you through this.

Thanks, I needed to hear that.

BTW. Remember how my parents want to visit the Mall of America?

Yes.

I think it’s going to happen really soon. We should meet.

Definitely!!! Yes I soooo want to meet you!!!

It’ll be awesome, just me and you!

AH I can’t wait!

Me neither ahh!!

Quantico, Virginia

Carly Salvito settled into her desk at the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program and got ready for the new case coming her way.

The word out of the morning meeting was that a bad one had emerged out of Region 3, the Midwest.

She logged onto her computer, then took in her unit, the soft murmur of conversations and the clicking of keyboards as some forty crime analysts worked at solving crimes. The program, known as ViCAP, maintained the largest investigative database of major violent crime cases in the US.

Salvito’s unit collected and analyzed information about homicides, sexual assaults, missing persons and unidentified human remains, searching for links among cases that were scattered across the country.

ViCAP was headquartered within Critical Incident Response Group-the CIRG building-at the FBI Academy about forty miles southwest of Washington, DC, nestled in an expanse of Virginia forest.

Salvito had come a long way from Queens, where she’d been a detective with the NYPD, before becoming an FBI crime analyst with ViCAP.

Like most CAs, she was devoted to the program and its ability to connect cases and catch criminals. Given her background, she was good at assuring detectives that the information they submitted, particularly their holdback information, which only they and their suspect knew, was zealously guarded by the FBI analysts.

“I know your holdback is your case. I’ve been there,” Salvito would tell them. “We follow your instructions to the letter. No other agency sees your holdback without your say-so.”

Before Salvito scrolled through her files, she opened her can of cold diet cola. She preferred cold soda in the morning to coffee. As she took a sip her computer pinged.

This is it. Here we go.

The new case came via Minnesota out of the state’s Bureau of Criminal Apprehension in Saint Paul. Salvito keyed in her security codes to the file. It had been submitted by BCA Agent Lester Pratt. She went first to the Details of Discovery section, showing the date that a homicide victim was found in Lost River State Forest, near the Canadian border.

She’d been buried alive.

The body belonged to an unidentified white female, five feet four inches, one hundred twenty pounds, age between twenty-four and twenty-eight. Her fingertips had been disfigured, likely with acid. Still, Minnesota had submitted them to the national fingerprint database.

Good, they were smart to do that. It could be a signature.

The victim also had a tattoo of a small heart with wings on the left upper neck. That was submitted to databases for missing persons. They’d also submitted a dental chart. DNA from the crime scene had been submitted to CODIS and other databanks. Given the backlog at CODIS, results might take a while, but sometimes people were lucky.

No evidence of sexual assault.

Salvito reflected for a moment before continuing. There was a lot of other detail to review but like most CAs, she then went right to the evidentiary mode, key fact evidence.

In this one, the critical piece of evidence was the tire impressions at the scene belonging to the suspect’s vehicle. No other tracks or impressions were detected at that scene, aside from foot impressions believed to belong to the victim and the suspect. In the case of the suspect, it was believed he wore a size-twelve boot.

The holdback was the belief the suspect recorded the crime, arising from impressions from a tripod that were found in soil in which conditions were consistent with the time frame for the tire and foot impressions.

Okay, we’ll just lock that away.

The tire impressions were made by 10-ply radials, LT245/75R16, load range E. The file included photos of casts, enlarged to show tread wear and other characteristics.

This is good. This is pretty unique. It’s a solid identifier.

Salvito took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then, using the tire evidence, ran a comparison with other similar cases in the system for the region and states she was responsible for. She was in Region 1, and the states that fell to her were South Carolina, Maryland, New Jersey and New York.

Starting with South Carolina, she entered codes and information about the tires. In a few seconds the response was negative. Then she tried Maryland and found nothing. New Jersey yielded no response, as well.

Last one, New York.