Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“It feels like it’s been months since I’ve had a taco this good,” Kelly mumbles as he takes another massive bite of his carnitas taco.
“To be fair, it probably has,” Mason adds as he unfolds the wrapper around his own three-cheese quesadilla.
It’s Monday, and Mason isn’t a vegetarian but does partake in Meatless Mondays.
He said it started out for health reasons and as a way to stand in solidarity with one of his siblings that is a vegetarian.
I understand, and I love cheese, but this girl loves steak a little too much to consider missing out.
“I’ve missed Task Force Taco Time so much. I don’t know if that’s an official thing, but we should definitely make it a thing.” Tara moans in delight as she takes another bite of her burrito.
“Seriously, Christine, best idea ever,” I say before diving into my own birria tacos.
Walker’s assistant suggested getting takeout from our favorite street taco spot for a working lunch, and the entire task force agreed.
Christine is the glue for our team and not only keeps us functioning in chaos but makes sure we all eat well, too.
My phone vibrates, and I look down to check the screen. Incoming Call: Astor R. Morgan-Lane. I know better than to decline it, but I let it ring out until voicemail picks up. I’m in a meeting, and just because she calls does not mean she gets to reach me.
But I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.
My mother does not like to be ignored. I slide my phone back into my pocket, where I feel it vibrating with another call.
It stops for a moment, and then vibrates again, but I don’t need to look to know it is a text from her following up as to why I am not taking her calls.
For someone who does an amazing job of broadcasting my accomplishments to her social circle, she really does not grasp what my daily life actually looks like and fails to understand why I don’t pick up every single time she calls me.
In addition to availability in my schedule, she’s emotionally taxing, and my team deserves my attention right now.
“That’s why Christine is the best.” Walker nods in agreement before adding a generous pour of salsa to his tacos. We dig in and take turns updating our team members on anything we need to share since we got back from Atlanta on Saturday.
I glance at my phone after I finish my tacos.
Astor R. Morgan-Lane
I would appreciate it if you would answer my phone calls, Harlow.
Astor R. Morgan-Lane
If you are not going to make visiting in person a priority, the common decency would be to at least answer me when I phone you.
Astor R. Morgan-Lane
I expect to hear back from you promptly. I need to know if you are planning on attending this year’s charity gala. I’m on the board and would think my own daughter would want to support my efforts.
Astor Rose Morgan-Lane is on every board every year, so why would this year be any different?
I’m assuming it’s something for their country club, or her women’s society, or some other group of women raising funds for some noble effort while they drink expensive champagne and gossip about each other.
It may be strange to some people that my mother is in my phone contacts as her actual name, but she prefers that I only use that sentiment in front of her social groups.
Otherwise, I am expected to simply refer to her as “ma’am,” but that is only a step above what she requires all their employees to call her.
I refuse to call my own mother Mrs. Morgan-Lane.
She has plenty of other requirements, like demanding my attention at her beck and call, but right now, my attention needs to be on these victims and the justice they deserve.
I mentally place my mother and the conversation I get to have later today in a box and put it away. It’s time to focus with my team, because our work never seems to stop.
That’s the thing about evil—it’s always lurking in the darkness until the light can expose and stop it.
In the last five months, we’ve had cases in Denver, New York City, Salt Lake City, San Diego, and most recently, Atlanta.
While others enjoyed summer vacations, I’ve spent more nights sleeping in hotels chasing serial killers than in my own bed since April.
We often travel, but it has been a lot lately.
The CPM is now integrated in a database Mason wrote so we can update information on cases as they evolve, and it automatically calculates any changes in scores.
This also now allows us to pull up the database and see where each case we are monitoring is scoring at any given time.
The CPM has evolved quite a bit since its inception eight months ago.
“We have a new case to run through the CPM.” Walker draws all our attention to the head of the table. “Chavez sent this over earlier this morning and wanted the team’s opinion.”
Walker could have just sent me the case, I would have been happy to give a preliminary score, but I also know that Walker likes to take a team approach, instead of just putting more work on my desk. He nods at Mason, who pulls up a report from the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.
“How many victims?” Kelly asks, the jovial mood of our lunch banter completely dissipates from the room.
“Based on what we know from ViCAP, this individual or team has six victims to date. All are female, including five homicide victims and one survivor.”
That piques my interest. We don’t usually see cases with survivors when it comes to hunting serial killers, at least not at the level of depravity we face as a task force. “What’s the information on the surviving victim?”
And when can I interview her?
“Monica Jackson was leaving a bar in Worcester, Massachusetts in May of last year when she was attacked by an unknown assailant,” Walker explains.
“The offender injected her with what was later identified as valium, but it was not the correct dosage and did not fully incapacitate Ms. Jackson. She came to after the perpetrator had moved her to a wooded area near the bar, but Ms. Jackson was able to scream for help, drawing attention, which forced the suspect to abandon her and what was clearly a planned kill site. Mason, can you pull up those files I sent you?”
A few concise clicks and we are looking at Monica Jackson’s nightmare. There is a red plaid picnic blanket set out, along with a single flower in a jar that is tipped over on its side. The blanket is disturbed, and a woman’s high heel lies on the far side of the blanket.
I hope she hurt him in the struggle, maybe even with the point of that heel.
Reviewing the notes Mason sent to my tablet, I pull up Ms. Jackson’s victim statement.
I exhale a frustrated sigh as I read that, unfortunately, she insists she did not get a good look at the perpetrator.
She could tell he was a tall man, but it was dark, and he quickly fled when she started screaming.
“This sounds awful for her, but I’m not seeing why it’s coming to us?” Tara questions with genuine curiosity.
“The carnation in the vase tipped over. Detectives from the Worcester Police Department believe it matches the signature of other crimes mostly committed along the Eastern Seaboard.” Walker nods at Mason, who pulls up another case … and another … and another.
“How many victims match this exact staging set up?” I ask Walker.
“According to the file, I’m seeing a match for all six victims to date, including the one survivor.
” Mason scrolls through the files on the projection screen for our team to see.
Agent Mason Dunn may be the youngest agent on our team, but he’s brilliant when it comes to anything tech, and his extraordinary pattern recognition skills make him an even greater asset to our unit.
“Have the cases been localized or has he crossed state lines?” Kelly asks as Mason pulls up a physical map of the locations.
Three of the cases have been in Massachusetts: Boston, Worcester, and Salem.
The other three cases are in one-off states: Providence, Rhode Island, Las Vegas, Nevada, and Manchester, New Hampshire.
“It also looks like this unsub—and I know you hate when they give these guys nicknames, Harlow—but they’re being referred to as The Carnation Killer.”
I scowl at that.
Walker is right. I do hate when law enforcement gives offenders nicknames.
Although it’s almost always inevitable when a big case gets media attention.
It’s one thing for the media to do it, but when law enforcement personnel encourage it, it’s not only annoying, it’s dangerous.
Killers like this are complex individuals and usually have a fragile yet exaggerated ego structure, especially someone who is displaying ritualistic staging behavior, which speaks to narcissistic personality attributes and a fractured ego structure.
He likely has an inflated sense of self and thinks he is smarter than law enforcement.
If they are referring to him as a nickname, it’s only a matter of time before that’s leaked to the media, reinforcing the unsub’s ego even more and letting him think he’s reached a level of notoriety.
It can encourage additional criminal behavior, which is never the goal.
We talk through the other known commonalities of the case, but there isn’t that much to go on, other than a strong ritual and pattern the unsub adheres to.
He stages the scene, administers drugs to sedate the victims, and positions them in a way which creates conditions that result in positional asphyxia.
The victim’s natural protective reflexes are disabled by the sedation, preventing them from repositioning to maintain their airway.
The killer arranges the victims prior to death, and based on how the victims appear when discovered, it seems that he grooms them postmortem—hair is perfectly brushed, clothes smoothed, deep red lipstick carefully applied—creating a peaceful scene prior to their body being discovered.
That was until his fourth victim last year.
Something changed, whether a dosing error of valium, or some source of emotional disturbance, but something caused the unsub to become physically involved in her death, rather than remaining an observer.
Karlie Voss showed no signs of defensive wounds, suggesting she was unconscious when she was manually strangled.
His fifth victim, Monica Jackson, interrupted the ritual and screamed for help, which ultimately saved her life.
“When considering the ten categories of our Case Prioritization Matrix, The Carnation—” Mason looks to me before clearing his throat.
“Uh … these cases related to the carnation signature score a sixty-five, which qualifies this case to be considered a high priority.” His face reddens at his slip of almost calling it The Carnation Killer case.
I have to stifle my laughter; he tries so hard.
I wave my hand away dismissively. “It’s fine, Mason. I think the cat has already gotten out of the bag with this one if multiple jurisdictions are already calling him The Carnation Killer,” I admit defeat on this one, but Kelly lets out a relieved sigh.
“Thank fuck. That was going to kill me! It’s a great name. I know, I know, it’s poor practice and less than ideal, but come on, it’s a … great name.” Kelly’s eyes widen.
I tilt my head and I hold my facial features as neutral as possible. “You were going to say it’s a killer name, weren’t you?”
Walker barks out a laugh, which makes me lose my own composure.
The man never used to laugh as much as he does now that he met the love of his life.
It’s noticeably different, but it’s incredibly nice to see my friend so happy and with a fantastic woman that is quickly becoming a friend of mine as well.
“I mean, the guy isn’t wrong. It has a ring.
” Tara shrugs, and I try to give her a chastising glare but fail at that as well.
We have to find moments of levity in our jobs—we are still human—but we also know when it’s the appropriate time and place.
In our team’s conference room with just the core members of our team, we’re able to let loose.
But when it’s time to focus, we are all incredibly dedicated to our jobs.
“If no one else has any other thoughts on this new case, we will add it to our high-priority list and set up appropriate monitoring protocols?” Mason raises his voice at the end of his statement as a question to the team, but everyone nods in agreement.
“Let’s move on to the next new case,” Walker directs our team’s attention, and we follow his instruction, because there is always another case.