CHAPTER TWO
Alison drove the winding mountain roads near Missoula, Montana, under the cover of darkness.
The forested slopes on either side were steep—the pine and fir trees were snow-covered.
The snow had stopped falling, and that which had been on the road had turned to a dark slush.
Alison drove under the speed limit, feeling the car slipping ever so slightly on the tighter corners.
She glanced at the map app on her phone, which was sitting on a holder on the dashboard.
The phone was hers, the car was a rental picked up at the airport.
She had spoken to Special Agent Martine while at the airport waiting for her plane, and it had been decided that it was best to go straight to the crime scene to view it while it was as fresh as possible before heading to her motel for the night.
It was late, well after midnight, and the lack of traffic on the mountain road only made Alison nervous. If she broke down in the middle of nowhere, she hoped she would get reception or that someone else was out late.
And what would someone else be doing out so late? I’m visiting a murder scene.
The one thing she was glad for was the amount of snow that had fallen. It provided extra illumination for the journey to the city.
There had been no flights directly into Missoula until the morning, and it was later in the morning, but there had been a flight into Kalispell Glacier Park, which was only a two-hour drive. Alison would have liked a more direct route, but it was beautiful.
The Clark Fork River came into view, the water frozen over and glinting silver between the breaks in the trees. Rocky outcrops thrust upward above the tree line. In the distance, to the left and the right, the dark grey mountains were towering silhouettes against the black night.
Then the familiar lights of a cityscape, and Alison gripped the wheel with a little less force.
She turned on the radio, not needing the extra focus to sustain her.
It was what she was used to—city driving instead of mountain driving.
She watched the GPS more carefully now that she was back in civilization.
The sultry woman's voice led her to the west side of the city and a brick office building.
The building was dark when she got there; all the lights within were off. It was three stories tall, and there were no signs on the front to identify the offices within. The parking lot was mostly empty. Two cars sat there—one was covered in snow; the other was not.
She parked next to the one with a faint light inside, seeing a woman’s face illuminated in the glow. The woman got out when Alison parked. She carried two cups of coffee.
"Dr. Payne, I presume?" the woman asked when Alison exited her car.
Alison nodded.
"Special Agent Martinez, but you can call me Claire," she introduced, holding up the two takeout cups. "The coffee’s not very hot, and I wasn’t sure if you are the type of person who wants a jolt of caffeine before getting to work or if it’ll wreak havoc with your sleep schedule."
"I had about a gallon of coffee on the drive here, and it only just kept me awake,’ Alison admitted. "I’ll take some more to get me through."
The Special Agent smiled and handed one of the cups to Alison. That freed up a hand, which she stuck out—Alison took it and shook it.
"That car?" Alison asked, jerking her head to the car that had obviously been parked there for a while.
"It belongs to a guy who works here. Apparently, the battery died, but he’s not due back in for a couple of days, and he’s planning on returning with one of those portable chargers to get some juice back into it and get it back home."
Alison nodded.
"You ready to go in?" Claire asked.
"Lead the way."
Claire Martinez was around thirty with long blonde hair tied up into a ponytail, soft features, and bright eyes, despite the hour.
She was attractive, but Alison noticed that the woman hadn’t smiled once since she arrived.
It felt like a defense mechanism. Alison knew what it was like to work as a woman in a male-dominated field.
You had to work hard to be taken seriously, and Alison hazarded a guess that Special Agent Martinez did that by looking serious at all times.
"How was the drive through the mountains?" Claire asked as they walked together toward the front door.
The air was cold. It bit at Alison, but not enough to chill her after being warmed in the rental car over the past two hours.
"It was fine," Alison admitted. "I’m not used to driving these conditions, but I made it in one piece."
"I’m sorry we couldn’t get you a better flight," Claire said. She unlocked the front door and held it open for Alison to enter.
"Don't worry about it. I’m the one who chose to get here as quickly as possible and come straight to the crime scene. This is all fine. I’ll be glad to see where we’re at and then get some sleep."
Clair smiled. She led the way to the stairs and up to the first floor, where the psychology offices were.
"The victim is Dr. Rachel Kent," Claire explained as they went up. "Fifty-two years old, a forensic psychologist. She lives in town and has a brother, Dale, who also lives in town. Unmarried, no kids, no other family around. She consulted on the Vincent Torres case."
They walked through the door at the top of the stairs and into the offices. Alison spotted the yellow police tape criss-crossing one of the closed office doors.
"I remember that case," Alison said. "Vincent Torres was shot to death in prison after he refused to put down the makeshift knife he used to kill two inmates and a guard. He was pronounced dead at the scene. You said on the phone that Dr. Kent’s murder was a copy of a previous M.O.. I assume it’s connected to the Torres case. If Torres is dead, then you’re thinking you might have a copycat on your hands. "
"Yeah," Claire admitted. "She's positioned just like Torres's first victim, whom he killed in prison. Killed the same way, too. You should take a look at the crime scene."
They went to the office, and Lucy opened the door inward before pulling off the police tape gently so it could be reattached after.
The smell hit Alison first. It was a familiar smell now, having been at multiple crime scenes before, but still one that disgusted her. It was an acrid smell with the metallic tinge of blood.
The body was long gone. It would already be at the corner’s office, and perhaps someone else would be working late that night to get the autopsy done and give them a head start on proceedings.
The first thing to strike Alison as she stepped into the room was that the furniture had been moved.
The desk was pushed up against the window to give space to place the body in the center of the room.
Going by the blood patterns on the carpet, she had been laid out in the middle of the room after much of the blood had been spilled.
"Time of death?" Alison asked.
"Over twenty-four hours ago," Claire confirmed.
"She was working late last night—no, the previous night. This still feels like the same day. She often worked late, according to what her coworkers told us. She wasn’t found until this morning, or yesterday morning, depending on how you judge it.
She was found around eighteen hours ago by the cleaner when she arrived for work.
The cleaner called the police immediately. "
"She was working late alone," Alison thought out loud.
"She would have had to have been for the killer to take the time to move furniture after killing her. Something staged like this, we have to assume that the killer knew her well enough to know her routine. And that’s a lot of blood.
This is either passionate or personal, maybe both. "
"This was found at the crime scene," Claire said, pulling up a picture on her tablet.
Lucy looked at the photo. It showed a prison cell with a man lying dead in the center of the cell, his arms spread out, his throat cut, shirt lifted up, and stomach cut open—a long gash from one side to the other.
"Geez," Alison commented. "And Dr. Kent?"
"Yeah," Claire confirmed. "Exactly the same. A laceration to the throat and one post-mortem to the stomach. She was laid out just like him, too. I mean, we would have probably figured out the cases were connected at some point, but the killer wanted to make sure we knew they were."
"The Torres case? Do we know why he killed the two inmates and the prison officer?" Alison asked.
"There was some mention of greed, and possibly a connection with the two inmates and the prison guard, but he was killed before he could be evaluated and interviewed. We can only speculate about his motivations—he might have taken his secret to the grave."
"Okay, so we have the forensic psychologist who consulted on Torres, but this was before he killed three people, right?" Alison asked.
"Torres was looking for early release after serving eight years of a twelve-year sentence, and Dr. Kent recommended against it. It was decided instead that he should be moved to a lower security prison for the remainder of his sentence, and six months into that sentence, he killed three people. There’s no real way to know if he would've killed anyone if he had remained in the same prison, or if his rejection for early release had anything to do with his killing spree.
All we know is he killed three people, and our killer here copied the first of those murders.
Does that mean the killer is planning to copy all three? "
"I don't know," Alison admitted. "The obvious thought is that this is revenge for rejecting early release, but Torres is not around anymore to get revenge, and I don't believe someone would seek revenge after Torres killed three people before being killed himself.
Maybe someone is upset Torres was killed, but then they would go after the persons who killed him, not the psychologist who kept him in prison.
Still, we know there is some sort of connection between the two, and the killer wants us to know that. "
"I’m glad you’re here to make sense of this all," Claire said. "I’ll admit that I didn't know much about you until a colleague recommended bringing you in, but I studied your career after that, and it’s more than impressive."
"Thank you. Let’s hope I can live up to that. Murder weapon?"
Claire shook her head. "We didn't find anything at the crime scene, but early indications suggest a smooth blade, sharp."
"And CCTV cameras?" Alison continued.
"No," Claire lamented. "They don't have any anywhere in the building. It’s a closed office away from public thoroughfares. There’s no reason to have them."
"So, why kill Dr. Kent?" Alison asked. "If it weren’t for her, Torres would be released, right? If it weren’t for her, Torres might not have been transferred to the lower security prison, right? We have three people dead—two inmates and one prison guard. I’d like to start there.
I want to know everything there is to know about the three people who were killed by Torres.
I want to know if someone is out for revenge for one of the murders in the prison. "
"Sleep first or…?" Claire asked.
"No, I can't sleep now," Alison admitted. "I’d like to get started if you're up for it."
"I’ll lead you back to the office," Claire said.
"You wondered earlier if there might be more," Alison noted. "I have a feeling there will be. This was planned and personal. I don't know when or who or how, but I don't think this killer is done. We need to get ahead of this before they kill again.