CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Alison’s heart stopped.
She opened her eyes, and it began beating furiously.
She looked down at Dr. Carver on the ground, blood pouring from the gunshot to her neck.
She opened her mouth as she looked up at Alison, trying to say something.
Only a gurgle came from her lips. Her fingertips gently scraped the ground as she tried to reach the gun that had fallen from her grip.
Two, three, maybe four tactical officers walked into the room, their legs pushing them forward while their torsos remained tight. They all carried assault rifles and converged on Carver from three different directions. One of them kicked her gun away.
Alison caught the flash of light again and looked up and to the left to see a gunman through the broken window above. Alison stared at him as he lifted his gun, then backed away from the opening.
"Medic!" one of the tactical team shouted.
More people rushed in, one of them going straight to Carver and placing a hand on her neck. Carver gasped for breath, blood spluttering from her mouth. Across the room, another team treated Sterling. Alison continued to look into Carver’s eyes as they dulled.
Then someone took Alison’s arm, and she jumped. She turned to see Hartley by her side. The Special Agent didn't say a word, but pulled her from the room.
Alison took a deep breath as soon as the fresh air outside the building hit her. The sun felt far brighter than it had before, and her knees felt like jelly. If she didn't keep moving, her legs might fail her.
"Are you okay?" Hartley asked. "Are you hurt?"
"I’m not hurt," Alison said. "She didn’t hurt me. I think she’s…" Alison thought it instead of saying it. The look in Carver’s eyes was like the lights going out. Sterling wouldn’t make it. "It’s over," Alison muttered.
"It’s over," Hartley agreed. "We came as quickly as we could."
"You made it just in time," Alison said. "Help me over." She pointed to the outside of the building.
Hartley took Alison’s arm again and led her over to the building, where she dropped down onto the ground as her knees finally gave way. Hartley crouched down beside her.
"I had no idea what to expect when you got here, so I brought everything we had," Hartley said
"You did well," Alison confirmed. "If she’d heard you coming, she would have killed. Sterling, too. Perhaps herself, I don't know. She was the one behind it all along, and I didn't see it."
"Not at the start, but you saw it before she had time to kill you and frame you for all of the murders," Hartley pointed out. "I’ll take that win."
"Sterling’s still alive," Alison said. "Carver must have kidnapped him days ago. That’s why we couldn’t find him. She’s not going to jail for this, but she has received her punishment. It’s still justice."
"It is," Hartley confirmed. "She won't be able to kill any more people, and she won't get away with her crimes. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have figured this out.
I would have believed it if you had been framed, and I would have fought it, but if she planned it well enough, she could have gotten away with it. "
"I think she might have," Alison acknowledged. "And all because she couldn’t handle her own guilt. We thought the killer was trying to make the world a better place, and perhaps she was, in a way, but that wasn’t her primary motivation. She wasn’t selfless, but selfish."
"Come on, you must be in shock after what you went through, and I want to get you checked out," Hartley said as she grabbed Alison’s arm again. "The rest of the team can deal with this. We get you checked out, and then we go back to the office for a debrief."
"A quick one," Alison said. "I need to get back home. This case is over, but I have another one there that needs to be taken care of."
"We get you checked out, a quick debrief, and I’ll drive you to the airport myself and put you on the first plane. I’ll be sad to see you go after all you’ve done for us, but I know where you are if I need you again."
Alison smiled as she walked arm in arm with the special agent back to her car. One case rooted in the past was resolved. She only had to take care of one more.
***
Two days later
Alison sat in the backseat of Derek’s car, but she didn't mind that one bit. Her father sat in the front seat, and the vehicle sat outside Howard Mills’s house.
Mills lived in a four-flex, with concrete steps leading down to his door.
Two units were upstairs in the four-flex, and two were downstairs.
Mills’s was the bottom left of the four.
The curtains were drawn across the front window. There was no front yard.
"We know he’s in right now, his wife also," Derek said. "We’ve been following him for four days, and there’s nothing that can be considered as evidence of him being a killer, but he always goes to a different park at lunchtime, always with a lunch and a book, and he sits there reading the entire time, only looking away from his book to stare at young women. "
"Joggers," James added. "A yoga class on the grass one afternoon. Women walking past in sports attire. I’m not getting my hopes up about this because it doesn’t prove anything other than that he's a little too interested in younger women. He’s not the only guy who would act like that, and if we watch older guys like him who’ve been married for a long time, I bet my bottom dollar that many of them will check women out when they pass. "
"Do you, Dad?" Alison asked.
"The cheek," James shot back.
"It’s not all women," Derek clarified. "Only young women, the same women who fit the demographic of those being murdered. That’s why we waited for you to return before talking with him. We have to expect that he’s been careful to evade capture for over twenty years.
He’s not even been suspected. Not one interview for any of the murders.
No one ever came close to suspecting him. "
"And a clean record," James added. "From the outside, looking in, he’s just a nice guy, working, and coming home to his wife every night."
"It’s going to be hard to prove the older murders," Alison admitted. "It was from the more recent ones that we got the van, right?"
"Yeah," Derek confirmed.
"We have better technology now, better ways of doing things, more ways to locate him at or near a crime scene.
" Alison could not help but think about the case she had just come from.
If they could finger him for the most recent murder, could they prove he had killed more women?
Would they be able to get a confession from him?
Alison was tired, but they didn't have time to wait. The longer they left it, the greater the chance Mills would find out he was being investigated. If he were the killer, he might make a run for it. The case in Philly had worn her down, but she was exactly where she needed to be, and she wouldn’t stop investigating with Derek and her father.
"So, what’s our plan when we go in there?" Alison asked.
"It feels like a Hail Mary, but you’re the key," Derek said. "If anyone’s going to spot something behavioral, it’s you.
We first reveal to him that we’re investigating the most recent murder, Katrina Sands, and we gauge his reaction.
No matter what we get, we divulge that we believe the murderer is connected to previous murders, and then we reveal who you and James are, and your relationships to the first victim.
If we’re right about the five deaths being connected, then maybe it unnerves him enough to show it. "
"It’s a really bad plan," James said.
"And the only one we have," Derek added.
"I know, I know," James said, raising both hands.
"I only want us to remain impartial, as hard as that will be.
What we have so far is not proof of anything, even though his behavior looks suspicious.
When we go there, we have to remember that we're looking for concrete evidence that he’s our killer, and not see what we want to see.
We do this properly, or we don't do it at all.
I won't risk losing her killer because we couldn’t be impartial. "
Derek was about to say something when James raised a finger.
"That included me," James said. "I’m struggling to manage all of the emotions swirling around in me now that we’re here, and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize the investigation.
If he confesses on the spot and I lose it with him, his lawyer will have a field day.
We all remain calm, and we do this the right way. "
"Of course," James said.
"I’ll try," Alison admitted. She worried that her fatigue, combined with over twenty years of waiting, would skew her professionalism.
"Okay, so we’re ready to do this?" Derek asked.
James looked around at his daughter, and she looked at him. James looked at Derek and nodded.
"All right." Derek paused. "We do this my way when we go to his door, okay?
I want to play nice, and we get inside and get him talking.
I don't want him to know who the two of you are before we need to reveal that, okay?
We might only have one shot at this, and we don't want to miss. Are we all on the same page?"
"We are," James said.
"I can't promise that I’ll be able to control myself if I don't like what he says in there, but I’m not going to jeopardize what we’ve worked towards. What you and Dad have worked towards. This is far too important to let anything get in the way."
"Good," Derek said. "Then let’s do this."
He got out of the car first, followed by James. Alison took a moment before exiting the vehicle and joining them. They walked to the house together.
Alison knew there was a chance that the man they were going to talk with could be no one. There was also a chance he was the man who had killed her sister and four other women.
Alison held back when they got to the steps, letting Derek and her father go down first. If Mills was the killer, had he followed the case closely afterward? Did he know Emma's family? Would he recognize James and her?
James knocked on the door when they got to the bottom, James by his side. Alison stood towering above, two steps back.
A middle-aged woman answered the door.
James smiled and took out his badge. "I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. My name is Special Agent Derek Sullivan. I’m looking to talk with Howard Mills. Is he in?"
"Oh, my goodness," she replied. "Has something happened? Is Howard in trouble?"
"We only want to talk with him," Derek said.
The woman placed her hand on her heart. "Yes, yes, of course." She turned from the door. "Howard! The police are here to speak with you. I don't know what about."
A moment later, Howard Mills appeared in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing his work uniform anymore, donning a pair of tan slacks and a short-sleeved check shirt. He had short, graying hair, bushy eyebrows, and a relatively unwrinkled face. His eyes were round, rich blue, and welcoming.
When he came to the door, he did so with a smile, and there was no hint that he was concerned by an FBI agent at his door.
Derek showed his badge again. "Howard Mills, I’m Special Agent Sullivan, and my two associates." Derek gestured to the side and behind. "Do you mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?"
"No, not at all," Howard said. "Please, come in."