Chapter 11
Brooklyn Sloane
Helen Uche had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer six months before her disappearance, according to the medical records attached to her missing persons file.
Her roommate’s original statement to the police noted that Helen had been optimistic about an alternative therapy she’d recently learned about, though the roommate couldn’t recall the specifics.
Alternative therapy.
A woman with cancer, optimistic about something unconventional, who vanished into thin air only to be buried in the greenhouse of a botanist who had spent a decade trying to develop a plant-based cure for the very disease that was killing her.
Brook sat at her workstation in the dining room with her laptop open, a half-eaten bowl of blueberries beside her, and the draft of two profiles on her screen.
She’d been working on them since returning from the greenhouse, and the connection between Helen Uche’s diagnosis and Nestor Ellingham’s research had sharpened certain edges of the profile while blurring others.
Theo occupied a chair nearest the window, his laptop open to a database search, his phone facedown on the table.
Sylvie was across from him. Bit was at the far end of the table, his knitted cap pulled low, an energy drink beside his mouse pad.
The room carried the faint, lingering odor of eggs that no number of open windows could clear from an old house.
“I barricaded my door last night.”
The abrupt statement came from Bit, directed at no one in particular but clearly intended for Sylvie. She didn’t even glance up from her screen.
“With what?”
“A chair. Underneath the doorknob.” Bit leaned back and crossed his arms. “I heard footsteps in the hallway around two in the morning. When I cracked the door and checked, nobody was there. The hallway was completely empty.”
“It’s a hundred-year-old house, Bit.”
“It’s older than that,” Theo shared as he reached for his water bottle. “I heard some sounds, too, but they’re normal.”
“That’s exactly what a ghost would want you to think.
” Bit leaned forward and tapped his index finger against the table twice.
“I’m serious. Is it possible this place is haunted?
What if the souls of those bodies inside the greenhouse roam the estate at night?
Think about it. They didn’t get closure.
They were buried in dirt for over thirty years without anyone knowing they were there.
That kind of thing doesn’t just go away. ”
Theo rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm and said nothing, which was its own kind of commentary. Brook remained silent, letting the team talk amongst themselves.
“Then it’s a good thing we’re here,” Sylvie said, her tone carrying just enough warmth to keep it from sounding dismissive. “To give them closure.”
“Well, just know that I’m going to keep a chair jammed underneath my doorknob until we head back to D.C.”
Sylvie’s laugh was light and genuine, and it cut through the heaviness of the room in a way that Brook appreciated more than she would have said aloud. These moments mattered. The team needed them, especially on cases where the darkness of the work had a way of following them home.
“If we could table the paranormal investigation for a moment,” Brook said, but only after the discussion had run its course.
She pressed enter on her laptop, uploading both profiles to the firm’s secure software, and then reached for the remote on the table beside her.
The portable monitor at the end of the table flickered as she navigated to the newly uploaded files.
“As you know, I’ve been working on two profiles. ”
Both summaries appeared on the screen, side by side. The monitor's glow intensified as the text filled the display, and the reflection of the brass candelabras was more noticeable than usual.
“Based on the available evidence, and with the understanding that Dr. Kessler’s ongoing excavation and toxicology results may significantly alter these assessments, I’ve developed two preliminary behavioral profiles.
” Brook stood and moved closer to the monitor to reference specific points.
The baby kicked in protest at the shift in her position.
“Keep in mind, these are not conclusions.”
She gestured toward the left side of the screen.
“Profile A posits the unsub as Nestor Ellingham, the property owner,” Brook explained as she highlighted the information.
“Under this framework, the subject is a white male, educated, mid-forties to mid-fifties during the active period, operating from a fixed location that he controlled exclusively. The behavioral indicators are consistent with a mission-oriented offender. Someone who kills in the service of a perceived higher purpose rather than for gratification.”
Brook brought the page down to include the rest of the profile.
“The subject’s research into plant-based cancer treatment, combined with the confirmed cancer diagnosis of the identified victim, Helen Uche, and her roommate’s account of an alternative therapy, suggests the subject may have transitioned from legitimate research into unsanctioned human experimentation.
Victim selection would have been targeted rather than opportunistic,” Brook explained, turning to find that Bit had pulled Arden into the discussion through a video feed.
“By that, I mean individuals with a specific medical vulnerability who were drawn to the estate under the pretext of treatment. The subject’s prolonged social isolation, documented withdrawal from personal relationships following spousal loss, and escalating fixation on his research are consistent with a deteriorating psychological framework in which ethical boundaries eroded incrementally. ”
Brook paused to wish Arden a good morning before turning back to her presentation.
“As for how the subject himself was killed, the blunt force trauma and defensive wounds on his forearms are consistent with several scenarios. A victim who fought back during an assault, a confrontation with an accomplice or associate, or discovery by a third party who intervened.”
She let the team absorb the first framework before moving to the right side of the screen. She had arranged for a federal agent to deliver notice to Helen Uche’s family that her remains had been discovered, but Brook made a mental note to have Arden follow up with additional questions.
“Profile B posits the unsub as an unidentified individual within Nestor Ellingham’s immediate social or professional circle.
Under this framework, the subject is a white male, mid-twenties to early forties, during the active period, with regular and unsupervised access to the greenhouse and the estate grounds.
This individual would have possessed working knowledge of the property layout, Nestor Ellingham’s daily patterns, and the growing environment within the greenhouse.
Basically, knowledge gained through a legitimate, recurring presence on the estate rather than surveillance or forced entry.
The behavioral signature of the female burials, such as the consistent supine positioning, the deliberate orientation, and the integration of remains into the greenhouse’s planting structure without disrupting the growing environment, indicates a high degree of organization and an emotional relationship with the burial site. ”
“So, not disposal behavior?” Theo inquired.
“Correct,” Brook responded as she highlighted another paragraph on the monitor.
“This is ritualistic in nature. The subject ascribed personal meaning to the act of burial, which suggests the greenhouse held symbolic significance beyond its function. The critical distinction between this profile and Profile A is the manner of Nestor Ellingham’s death.
The blunt force trauma and defensive fractures are inconsistent with the controlled, methodical behavior demonstrated in the female burials. ”
“Suggesting that Nestor’s death was unplanned and reactive,” Sylvie murmured as she tapped a pen against her chin.
“Yes, the result of a confrontation in which the subject was exposed, panicked, and resorted to lethal force to protect himself.” Brook stepped toward the table. “Two distinct behavioral signatures operating within the same crime scene strongly favor two distinct motivational frameworks.”
Brook set the remote on the table. The room was still, the team processing the implications.
In most cases, profiles served as the compass that directed an investigation toward a suspect the evidence hadn't yet named.
This case was different. The evidence was already pointing toward a limited number of individuals with access to the estate, and the profiles would likely confirm what the interviews and forensics were assembling on their own.
But Brook didn't cut corners, and she didn't skip steps.
A profile built with discipline kept an investigation from veering off course.
A hunch could send it in the wrong direction entirely.
Through the gap in the curtains, the midday sun had broken through the earlier cloud cover and was pressing a bright wedge of light across the floor. Dust motes drifted through it in slow, lazy spirals.
“Under either profile, the unsub would have been in his twenties to early forties during the active period in the mid-nineties, placing him in his mid-fifties to early seventies today. He may still reside in the area. He may still have connections to the property or to individuals associated with it.”
“Profile B,” Theo said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
“That tracks with what Porter told Sylvie about the nursery truck being on the property late at night. If the subject was someone connected to the estate through a regular delivery or service route, he would have known Nestor’s schedule and had a legitimate reason to be on the grounds without raising suspicion. ”
“It also accounts for the missing equipment,” Sylvie added.
“If the subject killed Nestor after being confronted, he would have had motive to strip the greenhouse of anything that could connect the research to the victims. Remove the journals, remove the compounds, remove the evidence of how the women were sedated.”
“Or,” Bit said, spinning his pen between his fingers, “Nestor removed his own equipment, because someone figured out he was killing women to aid in his research. That supports Profile A.”
“Again, both could be valid,” Brook said as she pulled her chair back out from underneath the table.
“Which is why I’m not committing to either framework until we have more from Kessler.
What I can tell you is that the ritualistic care demonstrated in the female burials is behaviorally inconsistent with the violence of Nestor’s death, but you all know that anyway.
Those are two distinct signatures, and reconciling them under a single offender profile is difficult. Not impossible, but difficult.”
Brook sat down and adjusted the angle of her laptop screen. The chair creaked beneath her in the same way every seat had since she’d reached the second trimester.
“I’m also working on a third profile,” Brook added.
She needed to use the bathroom, but she wanted to finish the briefing first. “There is a slim possibility that whoever killed Nestor had no idea there were additional remains in those flowerbeds. I’ll draft it for you to have in case the investigation shifts. ”
There was no holding her bladder any longer.
Brook stood and made her way around the table, delivering assignments as she went.
“In the meantime, we work all the angles. Sylvie, I’d like you to interview Owen Pruitt.
It sounds as if he’s been managing Gwenyth’s medication, and Porter’s revelation about illegal prescriptions gives us enough reason to have a direct conversation with him.
Don’t lead with the prescriptions, though.
Start with his relationship to Nestor, his knowledge of the research, and his access to the estate. Let him talk.”
“Understood,” Sylvie replied, already closing her laptop.
“Theo, I’d like you to drive out to Seldon’s Garden and Nursery.
Ward Seldon supplied Nestor with specialty soil and plant specimens.
The man had a professional and personal relationship with Nestor, as well as regular access to the property through his delivery route.
Find out what he knows about the research, the greenhouse, and who else had access through his operation.
Get a sense of the man, as well as a list of drivers back then. ”
Theo nodded and pushed back from the table.
Bit shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze drifting from the dining room through the open doorway and toward the staircase in the foyer. The upper landing was empty, but the way his stare lingered there suggested that empty wasn’t the same as reassuring.
“I’ll be here,” Bit muttered with a note of resignation, adjusting his knitted cap.
“Doing my thing. I’m going to dig deeper into Helen Uche.
Employment history, medical records, any connections to this area or to Nestor Ellingham’s research.
If she came to this estate because of an alternative cancer treatment, there’s a trail.
I’ll also keep updating the background checks as new information comes in from Kessler’s team. ”
“Good.” Brook turned to face the staircase herself.
The foyer was quiet, the upper landing shadowed in the late morning light.
The burgundy wallpaper absorbed the glow from the sconces rather than reflecting it, giving the space a quality that was less dark than it was dense, as though the air itself were thicker on the second floor.
Somewhere up there, behind a closed door at the end of a private corridor, Gwenyth Ellingham was living the same day she’d lived for the past thirty years.
“After I use the bathroom, I’m going to find Porter.
Nestor spent over a decade filling that greenhouse with scientific equipment, and every piece of it is gone.
Porter has been on this property longer than anyone.
If something was moved, he might know where it went. ”