CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"It was phoned in," Moore told her as they drove.
"What?" Alison asked.
"We think the killer called the station to let us know there was another crime scene. It was a male voice, and he gave an address and told us there was a message there for you."
Alison looked out the side window of the vehicle at the darkening sky.
"What sort of message?" she asked.
"That’s what we’re about to find out," Moore said. "The officer who picked up the phone tried to keep him on the line, but he knew what he was doing, and he hung up before we could trace him. By the time the officer called back, the phone was already out of service."
"A message?" Alison asked. "What sort of message?" The phrasing of it worried her. "It could be a trap."
"That’s why we’re not going alone," Moore said. "Two patrol cars are going with us. If it’s a trap, we’ll be ready for him.
You’re completely safe. I know you’re the expert profiler, but I don't need to get inside his head to know that he’s not going to be there.
If it’s a trap, then it’s something else.
He wouldn’t call and lead us directly to him. "
"You’re right," Alison said. "This is something new again. Another evolution. It’s a dangerous move."
"We can send the officers in first," Moore told her.
"No, not dangerous for us. Of course, the message is for me, and it’s part of his game, but it’s a dangerous move for him.
I’ve been up against killers before, and the more they give, the better it is for us.
I think we’re close, and I don't know if he realizes that. He’s playing a game with us, with me, and he thinks himself untouchable.
A lot of them do. He’s killed three people without being caught, so why shouldn’t he feel untouchable?
We’re almost there, and I think we'll get to him without this message for me.
He thinks he has the upper hand, but we do. "
"At the very least, we let him play his game as long as he isn’t killing people," Moore pointed out.
"Exactly," Alison agreed as they drove into the night.
"If he were out there killing one person after another, it would create chaos. It would hurt us and make us more frantic. He creates the rules, but the structure works against him. He can send me a dozen messages if he wants, and I’ll take them. Even if they are traps."
"Promise me one thing," Moore said.
"I can try," Alison admitted.
"I know you by your work and reputation," Moore said. "This could be a trap, but I don't think so. He made the call to the police station, knowing we wouldn’t come alone. This is about the system we are all a part of, but it’s also about you. I’m worried that he’s going to try to draw you out alone.
This ends with him getting his message across, but if he’s doing that through you, it might also mean killing you. "
"Yeah," Alison admitted. She had gone through the same thing in Reno with Nathan Cross.
He wanted to dine with her, but there was no scenario in which he would walk away without killing her after that.
The killer was focused on her, and she had to consider that he would try to kill her as his finale.
It was one of the burdens of being known for catching serial killers. She became the grand prize.
"If he tries to lure you into a trap, I don't want you playing the hero or trying to use yourself as bait. I called you because I had to, but we’ve been in this together since the start. We end this together, okay?"
"Okay," Alison said with a smile, still looking out of the window. "I can get on board with that."
"Good," Moore said in a businesslike tone. "Okay. The building we’re heading for is an abandoned correctional facility, which fits very well with the killer’s motif.
We don't know what we'll find when we go in, so we let the officers search the place first, and when they deem it safe, we go in. I’m guessing there’s another report for you, and I'm hoping there's no fresh body. "
Alison sighed through her nose as she looked out of the window.
Nathan Cross had been someone she had worked with on and off, and he had targeted her because of rejection.
This was different. It felt like jealousy.
With the amount of effort the killer was going to put into his reports, it felt like he needed to prove her wrong because he was jealous of her work.
No, it wasn’t strictly jealousy. He was trying to prove her wrong—he didn't want to be like her in that regard.
There were layers, though. Was he jealous that she had a prolific career with the Correctional system?
Was he jealous that she had moved on and was working with the FBI?
Was he jealous that she had caught so many killers?
Was that the ultimate revenge? Prove her entire career wrong and evade capture in the process, proving he was better than her?
She had narrowed down the list of suspects in her head.
There were only ten people she had worked with over the past decade who fit the profile they were looking for, both physically and mentally.
That was more than she could ask for with any trial killer case.
Everything they had so far pointed to the profile being correct.
That meant that amongst the ten suspects, one of them was their killer.
They would visit them all and bring in all ten if needed.
"This is it," Moore announced when they pulled up to the imposing concrete building behind the wire fence. They could only see it in the darkness, as the two patrol cars and Moore’s car were pointed at it, illuminating one side of the dull gray facade.
Once the car came to a halt, Alison got out. She didn't walk toward the building, respecting what Detective Moore had said. Instead, she leaned against the vehicle with one arm and waited.
The detective ordered the four officers accompanying them to search the building while she remained outside with Alison.
While they waited, the office sent a list of suspects based on what they had gathered so far. The list almost matched Alison’s, except it was missing three people. Those three were confirmed to either be out of the country or the state.
It was more welcome news. A list of ten possible suspects had been narrowed down to seven.
"We still have time tonight once we are done here," Moore said. "I don't know about you, but I’m happy to go door to door through the list of suspects to find our killer."
"Yeah, me too," Alison said. She was used to doing that with Derek, and she knew he would protect her come what may, but she felt safe with Detective Moore. There was something in the woman that put her at ease.
They waited outside together under the dark, cloudy sky, until one of the officers emerged alone fourteen minutes after the four had entered. He waved to them from close to the building to join him.
"It’s clear," he said when they got to him. "The place hasn’t been touched in a long time. Maybe some squatters, but there’s no one in there now. Just the…looks like similar to what he left at the crime scenes before, but not a dead body."
They hadn’t been expecting a dead body, and it was a relief to hear there wasn’t one. Detective Moore and Alison followed the officer into the building.
"The others are still moving around the place just in case, but there’s no sign anyone is still here," the officer explained as they made their way through the dusty building.
"That was what we expected," Moore said. "It’s good. We don't need to be dealing with our killer in a place like this. It gives me the creeps just walking through it."
Alison covered her mouth with her sleeve to protect herself from the dust. The building had once been operational, but before she worked for the correctional system.
Although she hadn’t been in the building before, she recognized the layout from other buildings. A lot was the same. They walked down dark corridors, the officer shining a bright flashlight, picking out the flaking paint on the walls that would have once been a sterile white.
Then they entered the part of the prison where Alison rarely ventured. She remained on the safe side of the prison, the corridors and hallways where the guards walked, and the rooms they used. This time, she entered the large mess hall where the prisoners ate together.
She couldn’t imagine it. Being surrounded by criminals while she had breakfast or dinner. Trouble brewing and ready to kick off at any time. She knew it wasn’t quite like that. Most people wanted to do their time and be free again, but there were occasional arguments or fights.
When they reached the center of the mess hall, they found what the killer had left for them.
One of the tables had been set up to look like a desk. A lamp sat on the table, the power cord dangling over the edge and not connected to anything. There was a blank pad with a pen sitting on top, and then something that horrified Alison: a picture of her and her sister in a small frame.
Alison took a step back when she saw it, and almost tripped over a broken piece of wood.
"You okay?" Moore asked, sticking her hand out but not grabbing Alison.
"It’s personal," Alison said. "He’s making it personal."
Alison stepped forward quickly, knowing it was not the time to shrink back from the problem, no matter how the killer was trying to taunt her.
It was a taunt, that much was clear. She had not long thought about how, if he was out there killing more people, that would mess her up far more than anything else and make her search for him more frantic.
Bringing her sister into it did just as good a job.
She didn't look at the photograph again as she sat down at the table and took hold of both reports.
"Shine the flashlight right here," she told the officer, indicating where to point the beam of light. She needed to read the report now to understand the contents and then get back out there with Moore to find their killer.