CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Miles and Vic had returned from the hospital, Agent Kim was still sitting at her corner workstation with both laptops running and her tablet propped beside them.
She had listened to Miles and Vic's account of the hospital interview without interrupting, taking notes on her phone the entire time.
Now she was building a profile based on Anderson's testimony.
"So we're looking for a white male in his mid-thirties with sandy hair and average build," Kim said, pulling up a database on her primary laptop. "No distinguishing features, which actually makes him harder to find. If he had a scar or a tattoo, we could narrow the search significantly."
"What about his behavior?" Vic asked. She had claimed the chair across from Kim and was reviewing Anderson's statement on her own laptop.
"He approached her in a parking lot and engaged her in conversation about climbing.
That suggests someone comfortable with social interaction, not a complete loner. "
"And he dosed her water bottle an hour before approaching her," Miles added.
He was standing near the whiteboard where they had mapped out the timeline of all three attacks.
"That shows patience and planning. He watched her climb for a while, knowing she was already drugged, before he made contact. "
Kim typed rapidly on her keyboard, building search parameters. "We should get in touch with the gym…see if they caught this guy on camera.”
“Absolutely,” Vic said. “That's crucial. But let’s be honest, we wouldn’t be able to cross that bridge until the morning, when they open.”
“Okay, so for now…let’s dissect this bastard,” Miles said. “I can’t help but wonder if he’s getting satisfaction from the act itself, or from the victim's terror."
"Or he’s living vicariously through them," Vic said. “Also…what the hell element would this play to?”
“I’m guessing helium?”
“Maybe…”
Miles nodded. The profile was taking shape in his thoughts. "If it’s helium or not, this is someone with an obsession with heights who can't or won't experience them directly,” he added. “So he sends others into the sky and watches."
"That fits with the methodology," Vic said. "The balloons do all the work. He just has to attach them and watch his victims rise. It's passive in a way, almost removed from the violence."
Kim pulled up a new database and started entering criteria.
"I’ll go back to that list of individuals with aviation-related criminal records in the Los Angeles area.
If he's obsessed with heights and flight, there might be prior incidents.
Something had to have driven him to such a strange behavior, right? "
Miles watched as Kim worked through multiple databases simultaneously.
She had search windows open on both laptops, cross-referencing results in real time.
Her organizational system was impressive, complete with color-coded tabs marked different categories of information.
Looking over her shoulder and watching so much information being pulled all at once was almost dizzying.
"I'm filtering for white males between thirty and forty," Kim said. "Criminal records involving aircraft, airports, or unauthorized flights. Let's see what comes up."
The search returned seventeen results in less than five minutes.
Kim scanned through them quickly, reading the names and details out loud.
They worked together quickly, a well-oiled machine of thought and effort eliminating candidates based on physical descriptions or the nature of their offenses.
There was a man who had been arrested for sneaking onto airport property to take photographs.
Another had been charged with flying a drone too close to commercial airspace, and there was also a pilot caught smuggling contraband across the border just last year.
"Wait," Kim said. She stopped on one result and expanded the details. "This guy…there might be something here. Michael Bradford. Thirty-eight years old, arrested three years ago for flying while intoxicated. He was a commercial pilot before his license was revoked."
"What else?" Miles asked, moving closer to read over Kim's shoulder. Vic sidled in as well, all of them huddled together.
Kim opened a second window and pulled Bradford's complete criminal history.
"Multiple safety violations before the DUI arrest. He was cited twice for reckless flying, once for unauthorized low-altitude flight over a residential area.
His license was suspended after the first violation, then permanently revoked after he flew drunk. "
"That's our obsession with heights," Vic said. "He was a pilot who lost everything because of his own recklessness."
Kim clicked through to Bradford's employment records.
"Since losing his license, he's worked a series of odd jobs around aviation facilities: an aircraft maintenance at Van Nuys Airport for six months, then ground crew at Burbank for three months.
Most recently he was employed at a helicopter tour company doing equipment checks, but he was fired two months ago. "
Miles felt the pieces aligning. A former pilot, someone who had experienced the freedom of flight and lost it through his own behavior.
Someone who still worked around aircraft but could never fly them again.
The psychological profile fit perfectly with someone who would send victims into the sky as a substitute for his own lost ability.
Maybe he did it as a strange voyeur-type thing as well as a form of revenge.
It didn’t fit perfectly, but it was worth checking out for sure.
"Can you pull up a photo?" Miles asked.
Kim navigated to Bradford's driver's license record and opened the image.
The face that appeared on screen matched Anderson's description almost perfectly.
Sandy hair, average features, the kind of face that would blend into a crowd without attracting attention.
He looked younger in the photo, taken before his arrest, but the basic structure was right.
"That could be him," Vic said. “God, I mean…it checks every box Lisa Anderson gave us.”
Kim was already typing again, pulling up additional information. "His current address is listed in Glendale. The vehicle registration shows a white van…which would be pretty much essential for lugging around all those weather balloons.”
Miles pulled out his phone and took a photo of Bradford's driver's license image. "We need to confirm he has access to weather balloons and helium tanks. Can you check his purchase history?"
"I can look into credit card purchases, but that tends to take a while" Kim said. Her fingers moved across the keyboard as she accessed credit card databases and retail records. "Give me a few minutes."
While Kim worked, Miles walked back to the whiteboard and stared at the photos of Amanda Parker and Robert Thompson.
Two victims who had died, and one who had survived.
All of them worked at extreme heights in their professions.
It seemed so simple, but something nagged at him about a detail he should have remembered.
"The study," Miles said suddenly. "Parker and Thompson both participated in a high-altitude performance study, remember? For work. We need to check if Anderson was in it, too."
Vic looked up from her laptop, looking just as disappointed as Miles felt. "We didn't ask her."
"I know." Miles felt frustration and guilt twist in his stomach. "I should have thought of it at the hospital. If Bradford is selecting victims based on that study, Anderson would have been in the database, too. It would be another link."
“Well, she said she was training for a climb, right? And she was at a gym, which makes me think her actual job may have nothing to do with heights. Shit. Hold on…Kim, can you—”
Kim chuckled, starting at a screen and saying, “Already doing it. Hold, please…”
Kim opened another search window and accessed the UCLA research database. It took her less than three minutes to locate the high-altitude performance study and download the participant list. She scanned through the names quickly.
"Lisa Anderson participated two years ago," Kim said. "She's listed in the rock climbing category. And there’s apparently a few different categories here. Much of it is indeed a work-study sort of thing but there were non-work volunteers, too. There’s a category listed as recreation.”
“And rock-climbing would fit in perfectly,” Miles said. “I think we have to assume the killer has this list. I mean, it could be a coincidence, but..” He shrugged, not quite ready to make such an all-encompassing statement.
"So, if Bradford has access to the study participants," Vic said, "how would he get that information? The university wouldn't just hand over personal data."
"He could have hacked the database," Kim suggested. "Or someone with legitimate access could have shared it. Let me check if Bradford has any connection to UCLA or the researchers who conducted the study."
Miles watched Kim work through the databases, searching for any link between Michael Bradford and the university. She checked employment records, enrollment histories, and known associates. After ten minutes of searching, she shook her head.
"No direct connection that I can find. If he accessed the study data, it was either through hacking or an intermediary. And also,” she said, now looking at her smart pad screen, “I got the results from Bradford’s purchase history. I’m not seeing anything here that screams out ‘weather balloons’.”
"Maybe that doesn’t even matter," Miles said. "What matters is that we can place all three victims in the same database, and Bradford fits the profile of someone who would target them."
Vic stood and walked to the window, looking out at the dark Los Angeles streets. "We have a name, a photo, and an address. We need to move on this before he selects his next victim."
“I think so, too," Miles said. "But do we feel certain enough about this to go knocking on this man’s door at three in the morning?”
“No,” Vic said. “But we’re far too deep into this Elementalist nightmare to let that stop us. Hayes would almost certainly allow it.”
“Then let’s get going,” Miles said. “Kim…do you want to come along?”
She took less than a second to consider it. "Absolutely. I need to get out of this damn chair for a bit." She grabbed up one of her laptops, slid it into a small shoulder bag, and joined them at the door.
They had a suspect that fit. And as Miles dared to hope this might be the end of yet another of Kane’s disciples, it almost felt too easy. And if he’d learned anything about Kane, there was nothing simple about the man at all.