Fragments of the gauze caught in the wound. Gently, he tugged as strand after strand peeled away from his skin until the strip released from the jagged wound. It was not infected, and he could now stand and walk with only a small limp. As much as he had wanted to retrieve the van, the injury would not allow him to leave his home in the woods.
Gingerly, he spread more antibiotic ointment on the wound and wrapped it again. He carefully tugged up his pajama pants.
He had stayed away from the Bottom for seven days and nights now. There had been no news reports about the incident or of the two other missing girls. The prostitutes and their problems did not merit any airtime in the crazy news cycle.
His luck was also holding in regard to the van. According to the transponder he had affixed under the front axle, it remained in the warehouse.
Coffee in hand, he stepped out onto the porch of his cabin and stared out over the woods that ringed the edge of his property. He loved the woods. And staring at them never failed to calm him. He took a sip and settled back into a rocker and then glanced toward the empty one beside him.
Ms. Perky Breasts should be sitting there with him. He had cooled off a lot in the last week, and he no longer dreamed of peeling her skin from her body.
His phone rang, pulling his attention from the woods. He recognized the number and smiled. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Hey to you, Grandpa. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing just great.” He rose and walked to the railing. “You packed and ready for boarding school?”
“Yeah, can’t wait. Mom is driving me crazy.”
“Give your old mom a break. It’s hard seeing someone you love leave.”
“I’m grown up. What’s the surprise?”
He chuckled. “There’s a lot you need to learn about the world, Sue.”
“I guess. How are you feeling? Are you taking your medicine?”
He had been diagnosed with cancer months ago. The pending surgery promised to leave him neutered and possibly incontinent. He would no longer be the master of his life. He was not going down that path.
“Like clockwork.”
“When do you go into the hospital?”
Never. “Soon.”
“Are you coming to parents’ weekend?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Great. I’ve got to go, but I just wanted to call and let you know I’m thinking about you.”
“Love you, kid.”
“Me too, Grandpa.”
They ended the call, and he refocused on the woods. He had loved a lot of women in his life, and he was sad to see them all leave.
He pictured Ms. Perky Breasts standing on her corner. He was destined to dominate her. She was ordained to submit to him. But sometimes destiny needed a hard shove.
He would give it another day or two before he retrieved the van from the warehouse. When he did, he would change the plates and slap on one of the half dozen bogus business signs. Like him, the van was a chameleon. Then he would go looking for his girl.
It was just a matter of time before Ms. Perky Breasts returned to her corner. A girl had to make a living. And everyone, including a hooker, was a creature of habit.
He smiled, then sipped his coffee. “This Date Night is going to be extra special, baby.”
CHAPTER THREE
Monday, August 24, 11:00 a.m.
FBI special agent Jerrod Ramsey waited as the airport’s rental car clerk checked for his reservation. Her name tag read SALLY. This was her first day on the job, she had said several times, and she was having trouble with the computer. She looked to be in her early twenties and had freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, and her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail streaked with several strands of blue. Triple ear piercings in the left ear, and she had suntan marks from a halter top. Her right thumb was calloused, and the nail was longer than her others. He guessed musician. A guitarist. Making ends meet until the big break.
“Can you spell your last name again for me?” she asked with a halting smile.
“R-A-M-S-E-Y. First name Jerrod. With a j.”
“Thank you.” The longer she tapped on the keys, the pinker her cheeks grew. Finally, she called over her manager, a short doughy man with thinning brown hair, who glanced at him cautiously and then quickly dropped his gaze to the screen. “We’re sorry for the wait.”
Ramsey fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled for the confirmation email. He had traveled countless places, and most trips came with a snafu. “I have a confirmation number.”
The manager was Fitz, according to his name badge. He brushed the girl’s hands away. “I told you how to do this twice this morning.” He punched more keys. “Here it is, a black SUV.”
“That’s it.”
“Do you have this?” The manager’s voice bit with sarcasm, and he lingered a fraction too close to the female clerk’s personal space.
Sally shifted a step away.
The manager was likely in his late forties, and Ramsey guessed he had spent his career processing thousands of car rental orders. The yellowing of his fingertips suggested he was a heavy smoker, the bags under his eyes hinted at poor sleep, and bloodshot eyes implied a hangover. No hint of a wedding band. This job was his fiefdom, and bossing women like Sally around made him feel better about his miserable existence.
Ramsey handed over his credit card to Sally and lifted his gaze to ol’ Fitz. “Thanks, Fitz. She’s got this now.”
Fitz held his ground for a beat, mumbled, “Have a nice day,” and then retreated back to another computer station.
Sally rang up the order. “You here for business?” Her conversational tone had a nervous edge, but her smile was bright.
“Yes.”
“Music or banking?” she said with a smile.
“Troubleshooting.”
Curiosity sparked in her gaze as she handed him his credit card and car keys. “Have a great trip.”
“Thanks.” If he had to bet, Sally would take less than six months to discover this job was not worth the paycheck.
He grabbed his roller bag filled with case files and headed toward the rental car bus. Ten minutes later, he was walking down a line of cars. He always rented the same make and model whenever he could. It cut down on the confusion that came with unfamiliar surroundings.
His phone rang as he tossed his roller bag and briefcase in the back seat. He recognized his niece’s phone number. “Kylie.”
“Uncle Jerrod. Where are you?”
“Nashville.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over his bag before closing the door.
“I got your text. What’s up?”
Kylie was his older sister’s child. At twenty-two, she had graduated from college and was beginning her first year of Columbia Law School.
“Checking in on Grandma. How is she doing?”
“Okay. She’s always grumpy.”
“When is your mother coming in to help?”
“I don’t know. She’s in Paris. Don’t worry, I’ve got the Grandma shift covered.”
“How long can you stay?”
“A week.”
“Good. That helps. I should be back in Washington by then.”
“I don’t do much. Tracy takes care of everything.”
Tracy had been his mother’s caregiver for five years. She was one of the very few people his mother listened to these days. “It’s good to have family around Grandma this time of year.”
“I hear ya. Grandma does keep asking for Grandpa. Tracy and I are going to take her to the beach.”
He glanced at his watch and checked the date. “It’s always a bad day for her.” The air blowing from the vents slowly cooled. “It’s the anniversary of Grandpa’s death.”
“I remember. I just can’t believe she does. She’s forgotten so much.”
Forgetting his father’s suicide would have been the one act of kindness Alzheimer’s could have done for his mother. But there was nothing kind about the disease.
This was not the first time he had been away from home at a critical time. He had missed Kylie’s college graduation. That had caused a blowup with his sister and renewed her complaints about his job. “Can I talk to Grandma?”
“Let me check.” Silence and then muffled conversations between Kylie and his mother. “She doesn’t want to talk to you or anyone.”
Six years ago, he had walked into the family home and greeted his mother, and she had started screaming. She had called the cops. That was when he’d realized she was really sick. Her memory had flickered on and off until finally it had not returned. He had been one of the first people she had forgotten. “I’ll be home in a few days. Can you hold down the fort?”
“You know I can,” she said.
“Thanks, kid.”
“Back at you, old man.”
“Touché.”
She was laughing when she hung up.
He locked away thoughts of home and shifted to the task at hand. It was never a good day for anyone when Ramsey or one of his crew left their Quantico headquarters and visited their jurisdiction. He chased the worst of the worst serial killers. The type of monster he and his team chased was not the garden-variety gangbanger. Their prey included predators who ate their victims’ flesh, sold children for sex or murder, and dismembered and mutilated bodies of the living and the dead. No one wanted to believe the creatures Ramsey hunted were real. He knew better than anyone that evil lurked in the darkness and was waiting for its chance to claim a new victim.