Chapter 13
“Graves isn’t taking Reid to his apartment,” Michael said flatly as he followed the dark Lincoln that Reid’s attorney drove
“Mm-hmm.”
He glanced at Sloane. “You’ve been quiet,” he said.
“Trying to figure out their game plan,” she said. “They now know that Matt and Kara aren’t newlyweds, that they’re cops, so
why take them?”
Michael didn’t have an answer. He didn’t like getting into the minds of psychopaths and trying to figure out why they did
what they did. He left that to agents like Catherine, who were trained for it.
But Sloane had a point: if they didn’t know Reid’s game plan, they wouldn’t be able to find Matt and Kara—and prove that Reid
was a killer.
Michael pushed his fear to the back. He had been a Navy SEAL. He had faced danger and handled it like a pro. Why was he terrified now? If he didn’t maintain control, if he fell apart, he would be no good for his team.
“Catherine said that his partner likely works at the resort,” Sloane said. “It would explain how the partner could avoid security
cameras. If she worked there, she may have known when they returned to their room. Maybe she had access to the room service
log, or saw them walking back after the gym.”
Michael said, “Are you suggesting that we may have interviewed his partner?”
Sloane shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. We should talk to Carlos and Brian again, ask them to really think about anyone on
staff who Reid may have eaten lunch with or socialized with. No matter how innocuous it seemed.”
“We asked about a girlfriend—no one said he had one. No one claimed that he had any close friends on staff. And if his partner
is on staff, we don’t want to tip them off.”
“All we need is an idea of who the partner might be, a profile, to narrow it down.”
“Catherine was wrong from the beginning,” Michael said bluntly. “She said Reid was a solo killer, she explained his motivation,
and it all made sense and felt familiar—but if he is killing with a partner, especially a female partner, that makes her profile worth nothing.”
“He was on the list,” Sloane reminded him.
“The very long list of single men under forty who worked at the resort as a staff or vendor for less than a year.”
“Catherine is beating herself up over her mistake. She blames herself that Matt and Kara were taken.”
“If she has an idea, I’ll listen,” Michael said, “but right now I’m focusing on tried and true field work to find them.”
Matt and Kara had been missing for more than twenty-four hours. It had been nearly a full day before the team even knew that they were gone. Michael blocked out how they might be suffering. It wouldn’t help find them.
“Why Sunday morning?” Sloane asked.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“I’m mentally recreating the kidnapping. Matt and Kara could have been taken Saturday night. Going to the restaurant. Returning
from the restaurant. If someone worked at the resort, they could have laid in wait in the cottage. Drugged them while they
were sleeping. Any number of ways that seem easier than shooting them with a tranq dart on their patio and pushing them in
a laundry cart. If it’s a woman, she’s strong to be able to lift Matt up.”
Michael shook his head. “I doubt she’s stronger than you.”
“I’m strong,” Sloane said, “but I couldn’t lift Matt into a laundry bin. I could drag him somewhere, but there’s no evidence
that was done.”
“My guess,” Michael said after a moment, “she put the cart on its side and rolled him into it. Then she either rolled Kara
into it, or righted the cart and picked Kara up. She probably doesn’t weigh much.”
“She’s all muscle,” Sloane said with a slight smile. “I can beat Kara in virtually every drill, but I’m a Marine. Still, I
have to work to win. If I slack off, drop my guard even for a second, she’ll find a weakness and exploit it.”
She spoke with pride, not arrogance. Michael had watched the friendly competition between Sloane and Kara at the gym. Sloane
had more training, better form, longer endurance, and at least six inches on Kara. Kara had tenacity, quick feet, and street
smarts. He was glad that they were friends, because the tension between Catherine and Kara, until a few months ago, had been
difficult. Sloane and Kara seemed to have hit it off from the beginning.
“But you’re right,” Sloane continued, “a woman could roll them into the cart, then right the cart with core strength and leverage. Still, a woman . . . I know women can kill, but these crimes seem particularly brutal for a woman to be party to. And with Reid in jail, if she was the submissive, would she take the initiative to go ahead and kidnap two people who she would now know are cops?”
“These people are all crazy to me.”
“Don’t let Catherine hear you say that.”
“I don’t get it,” Michael said. “I really don’t.” He cleared his throat, trying not to be emotional. He needed to be the strong
one on the team. Catherine was wringing her hands over her botched profile. Jim was convinced he had missed something in the
physical evidence so was going through everything a third, fourth, fifth time. Ryder was sullen, worried, and blaming himself
because it was his idea that Matt and Kara stay behind for R & R. Sloane was acting like an investigator, calm, methodically
working through the crime, asking valid questions. She cared about the team, but she was new. She hadn’t been with them from
the beginning.
Maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe Michael was too emotional, too close. And the more emotional he felt, the harder he worked to
bury his fears.
A moment later, Michael said, “Two people work together to kidnap couples, torture, kill, and dump the bodies in the ocean,
but not so far offshore that they never turn up. In fact, they drop them close enough so that they will show up sooner rather than later. Once, I think it’s personal. Twice, I think it’s a psychopath. Three times? It’s a game.”
“A game,” Sloane repeated with interest. “Maybe.”
Michael was certain. But he wasn’t a shrink, and he didn’t understand most of the psychology that went behind twisted crimes
like this. “Reid enjoyed himself during the interview,” he said. “No concern that he was going to spend any real time in jail.
He’s clean-cut, no record, no debt, nice-looking, everyone likes him, and yet he kills people.”
“There’s always a reason,” Sloane said.
Michael grunted. No reason would make sense to him, not for this level of violence.
Matt and Kara were smart, he told himself. They would find a way out. They’d get help. Call. Draw attention to themselves
so that Michael and the team could rescue them. He had to focus on that, otherwise his concern for his friends and colleagues
would cloud his judgment.
“I don’t think the female partner is submissive,” Sloane said after a couple minutes of silence.
“Does it matter?”
“I think so,” she said. “If she was submissive, I think Reid would have raped his victims.”
“Is that something Catherine said?”
“No, at least not to me,” Sloane said. “It’s not sexual violence they are interested in. It’s physical control they want.
Kidnapping. Restraining. Torturing. The women seem to have been tortured more than the men—”
“Which can be sexual,” Michael said.
“Yes, but were the women tortured to manipulate their husbands? To force them to act? Or were they targeted simply because
they’re women? Some of the injuries don’t make sense. The second male victim fell to his death, but his wife survived for
several more days. Her wounds had even begun to heal—how does that happen? Did Reid hurt her, let her recover, then hurt her
again?”
“If there’s any trace evidence that could help us find Matt and Kara, Jim will catch it,” Michael said. Though the truth was,
Jim had already reviewed the autopsy reports and found nothing the medical examiner hadn’t already noted.
An hour and twenty minutes later, they stopped down the street from Franklin Graves’s office in a classy brick townhouse off North Main.
The structure had two townhouses, one for Franklin Graves, attorney-at-law, the other divided into two offices—one a family therapist, the other insurance.
“He owns the building,” Sloane said, looking at her phone.
“Ryder just sent me the basics. Bought it six years ago when he opened his practice in Jacksonville—Ryder is still working on finding out where he was before then, because he handles mostly civil cases now. Divorced with a daughter—the ex and the kid now live in Texas—and Graves remarried six years ago to Lily Warren and adopted the woman’s then-five-year-old son. ”
Michael watched from across the street as Graves parked around back. From this angle he could see the parked car, but not
the rear entrance of the building.
“Why come here?” he wondered out loud.
“To go over the case? Graves didn’t spend more than five minutes with Reid before they went into the hearing.” Sloane scrolled
through her messages. “He employs a legal secretary, who’s been with him since he moved here.”
“Why would Reid call this guy?” Michael asked. “He hasn’t done criminal defense, at least in the last six years. Could Reid have been a client back
then?”
“There’s no sign that Reid lived in Florida until nine months ago,” Sloane said. “We’ve documented most of his residential
history from when he graduated from high school until now. Maybe Reid called a lawyer who referred Graves.”
“Who doesn’t do criminal law?” Michael shook his head. It was odd that Reid would hire a lawyer more than an hour away in
Jacksonville, who hadn’t worked a similar case in years—if ever.
“Get comfortable,” Michael said. “We’re going to be here for a while.”