The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9 Read online

  “Why call now? What’s happening?”

  “Sarah, please.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Where is she?” He sounded desperate. “Should I call back?”

  “I have no idea where she is. Why?”

  “I have to warn her.”

  “Warn her? And stop with the circles. Just tell me what you have to say.”

  “Penny told me …” He sobbed through the phone. “That Sarah wouldn’t make it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Aaron’s anger rose. “That sounds like a threat. Sarah always makes it.”

  “Not this time. I was told it would be fire or a bomb. She has no choice this time. She will comply because that’s who she is. Her own stubbornness will kill her. Her own desire to help will be her downfall. If she doesn’t stop now, Sarah will be dead in a week.”

  “There has to be a way,” Aaron shouted. “I’ll stop her.”

  “It’s already done. Nothing can stop it. But …”

  “What?”

  “If for some reason she makes it, tell her I’ll see her at the hotel. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I’ll check in a few days before.”

  “What hotel? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Is this how you always talk? This is so confusing.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “How can you help if you don’t know what’s going on yourself?”

  “I’m in Toronto to help a family member. Sarah knows this. Sarah is my family. So I will help even though I don’t want to get involved. But this time I get to see my daughter.”

  “I thought Sarah said your daughter was murdered?”

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 19

  A woman entered the conference room as Sarah was about to explain how Vivian worked, even though she was sure Lyson already knew.

  “This is Maria Stone, also on the task force,” Lyson said. He turned to her. “Is there something new?”

  “I just wanted to be here for the debriefing. Clear up any loose ends.”

  “Step in whenever you want.”

  Sarah touched her coffee mug, but it was cold and she didn’t want another. Her stomach turned at what Vivian had gotten her involved in. This seemed bigger than before. Vivian was good at saving people from accidents, stopping a kidnapping, or keeping Sarah away from would-be murderers. Tying Sarah into an active murder investigation of an active serial killer was something new.

  “Lyson?” Sarah said. “You know what I do? You looked me up, right?”

  “I did.” He nodded.

  Maria walked around the end of the table and sat in the chair beside Sarah, clasping her hands on the table in front of her.

  “Are you aware of how I do what I do?”

  “I understand you’re an Automatic Writer. Is that what they call it?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Like a psychic?” Maria asked.

  “Yes, but what I do is unique, different.”

  “How so?”

  “The messages given to me through the use of my arm, my body, are about future crimes or accidents. People who aren’t supposed to die or get hurt. I’m told when it’ll happen and sometimes how to stop it. All I do is show up and keep to the message details as best as I can. I’m virtually assured success if I can do that.”

  “Is a broken nose success? Bullet holes? Knife wounds?”

  “Mistakes on my part. I chose to walk back into a warehouse to get my gun. It almost killed me. Vivian had nothing to do with that. Although, in the end, leaving my gun behind was what saved me.”

  “What are the messages telling you to do in Toronto?”

  “None of your business.”

  Lyson set his pen down, looked at his task force members Justin and Maria and then back at Sarah, his face stern.

  “I’m not following. Why tell us all this and then not tell us what the messages say? You were in the crisis center. You were at the massage parlor where you saved a girl’s life. Where you go next and what you’re supposed to do could break our case. What if you’re supposed to stop a man from taking a girl? He could be our Leap Year Killer. So you need to tell us. What’s next?”

  Sarah pushed her chair out and walked to the window. A fresh layer of snow covered Toronto from the wintery day before.

  “I heard once that a man named Mel was the mayor of Toronto.”

  “He was. Mel Lastman. What about him?”

  “Didn’t he bring in the army to clear the streets of Toronto after a big storm once? Got some flak for it? Even though he put the people of Toronto first?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Before I agree to tell you my plans for the next few days and before I ask my sister to see if she could help, tell me all you’ve got. Give me the snow storm. I’ll see if the army can help.”

  “Interesting way to put it.”

  “I don’t want to seem disrespectful. I know the role you all play and I do respect it. People are safe and asleep at night in their beds because of people like you. My hat’s off to you for that. But I’ve had a rough go with cops and authorities in general. I don’t trust them.” She turned from the window and searched the faces of the task force members. “I’ve learned to keep Vivian’s messages to myself, deal with each one and move on as best as I can. I want a life, too. I didn’t ask for this. My conscience bought it. Now I pay for it. I’m duty bound. Now it’s an honor to serve. The only people who ever give me a hard time are the authorities. So understand, my first answer is no. Convince me otherwise.”

  “Fair enough,” Lyson said. “I appreciate you being candid with us. Let’s start at the beginning. Maria?”

  She unclasped her hands and brushed her hair over her shoulders. Sarah yearned to change out of the cleavage baring shirt and wondered how any of them took her seriously while she still wore it. Neither Lyson nor Justin had checked out her breasts yet. At least not as far as she could tell. They had been professional throughout the meeting.

  Maria cleared her throat. “We have six female Caucasians. Two from four years ago, two from eight, and two from twelve years ago. One of the two from twelve years ago was found dismembered in a black garbage bag.”

  Sarah walked back to her chair. “Why her and not the others?”

  “We don’t know, but we guess she died earlier than the other one found with her in the cage.”

  “How can you tell that after twelve years?”

  “Human remains tell us a grand story. All you have to do is know how to read the signs and know where to look.”

  “Can you explain?”

  Maria cleared her throat. “Sealed containers holding dead bodies are taken to the police department’s lab where they are fumigated for prints. You’d probably guess that we’re looking for a professional, so no prints were found. The remains go to the medical examiner where a postmortem begins.”

  “And …”

  Lyson and Justin sat quietly listening. Sarah found a new respect for Lyson—a cop near retirement but intent on solving one last case. So intent, he was willing to explore drastic measures, like contacting Sarah.

  “A forensic anthropologist is brought in to handle bodies found after this period of time. We start with a timeline based on the victimology report. This will give us an estimated time of death, but forensic anthropology doesn’t work too fast. Luckily, that letter Lyson got was actually from the Unsub directing us to the bodies. Therefore, we’ve already got a workable timeline of two bodies, every four years.”

  “You said Unsub. Remind what that is.”

  “Unidentified subject. The killer. Something to note—sometimes they like to follow their own cases.”

  Sarah nodded. “You mean through the newspapers?”

  “Yes, and in other ways. Sometimes they’ll call into Crime Stoppers.”

  “What for?” Sarah asked.

  “Every time the Crime Stoppers Hotline is called, a repor
t is generated, and for every call, there’s a follow up by an officer in this task force. We follow every lead. You can never be too sure.”

  “Wow,” Sarah said, scanning their faces. “That’s a lot of man hours.” She brought her attention back to Maria. “Tell me more. How did you learn about the crisis center connection? What if the Unsub knew his victims? Isn’t that common in murder cases? I mean, maybe he worked there.”

  “You’re right, it’s common. But not in this case. If a murder is personal, the murderer is driven to attack the face, the hands or the hair of the victim. Sometimes the murderer feels shame and regrets what they have done, so they cover the face of the victim, as if the victim could see them for who they really are even though the victim is already dead.”

  “That didn’t happen in this case?”

  Maria shook her head. “No, this was clinical. Like a doctor. Each woman had her tongue removed and cauterized. He didn’t want them to bleed out.”

  Sarah leaned back. “That’s horrible.”

  “The worst part was how they died.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “We have gathered that the murderer doesn’t feed them or give them any water to drink. Nothing at all. Their stomachs were virtually empty. But he abuses them for the week or so he has them until they die from the cold and thirst. He leaves them naked, exposed to the elements, starving and weakened. After a week or ten days, he locks the cage and walks away, on what we’ve since learned is February 29th, every four years. A psychological profile is being prepared, but it does appear that he has a certain kind of hatred toward women and the things they say, hence the ritualistic removal of the tongue.”

  “Methodical. Clinical. Insane.”

  “Exactly,” Lyson piped in. “That’s why we have to stop him this time or he’ll disappear for four years. Since we only have five days until he leaves his next victims, he probably already has them, their tongues removed.”

  Sarah shuddered.

  “Is there anything about this from Vivian?” Lyson asked. “Does any of this coincide with what she has been telling you?”

  Sarah thought about it, going over the messages in her head, but nothing seemed remotely close except for the crisis center.

  “The only thing is the …”

  “Crisis center,” Justin finished for her.

  She turned back to Maria. “Tell me about the one found in the garbage bag. Why was she different?”

  “We’re speculating that she died early.”

  “How so? Why?”

  “At this late stage, we have nothing to base it on. The first two were found in a field, buried in a huge hole, which was so big that a man could climb down inside and walk around bent over slightly. Something like a bunker from the war. We found powdered chlorine as fine and white as sugar. It’s meant to keep the coyotes away from dead bodies. He wanted us to discover these women and in the state he had left them.”

  “This guy sounds like a piece of work.”

  Lyson picked his pen up and tapped it on the table. “That’s why we need him off the streets. Is there anything you can do to help?”

  Sarah took a moment to examine everything. Was Vivian pointing her in the direction of working with the police? Was the purpose of going to the crisis center only to meet Lyson and have him recognize her? If so, why not where he buys his coffee or his donuts? Why the crisis center? Or could the girl she saved be the purpose?

  “I can tell you that I was at the crisis center for a reason. Sure, you saw me there.” She gestured at Lyson. “But there has to be something else.”

  “We’re already looking into it,” Justin said. “Since we discovered that particular crisis center was visited by at least five of the six women before they were reported missing, we’ve been looking at employees and ex-employees all the way back to twelve years ago. So far, nothing has come up, but we’re still looking. People change jobs, volunteers move around. We have nothing solid yet. The only employee that’s been there that long has a tight track record. Never been involved with the law.”

  “Are you referring to Jennifer?” Sarah asked. “She talked to me. Could she be of interest?”

  “I’ve known Jennifer for half a dozen years,” Lyson piped in. “She’s clean. We checked her out first just in case.”

  “Something has me stuck on her,” Sarah said. “Have you looked into her family, maybe a boyfriend? Who does she pillow talk to? That’s where I’d start.”

  “We did start there, but we’re going deeper. Just in case.”

  Justin was jotting notes.

  “Can you tell us what Vivian has got planned for you?” Lyson asked. “The fact that you were told to go to the crisis center and lie leads me to believe that you’re drawing the Unsub out somehow.”

  “If I am, he will never make it to trial. A man like that only deserves a violent end and then an unmarked grave.” No one said a word so she continued. “I need assurances.”

  “What kind of assurances?” Lyson asked.

  “If I tell you what I’m supposed to do, you stay out of it. It has to go down as Vivian says or people die. It’s always been that way.”

  Justin leaned over and whispered something in Lyson’s ear.

  Sarah almost called him out for it, but used restraint.

  We’re either being honest and open or we’re not.

  But they had been forthcoming. She didn’t want to hurt the rapport they had built.

  “It depends on what you tell us,” Lyson said. “We’re bound to investigate leads. If you know something that could help us, we have to take the lead. So I can’t give you any assurances.”

  “Then I have no idea how I can help. I guess we’re done here.”

  “That’s the wrong answer,” Lyson said. “I’m retiring in just over a month. I won’t let this asshole go for another four years. If you know something, you have to tell us.” He pushed his chair out and stood. “Or I’ll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  “See what I mean? How can I trust you when this is how you treat me?” Sarah stood too. “Relax. I’m sure none of what Vivian has asked me to do is related.”

  “Then let us in it.”

  “Since it’s not related, I won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure it’s not related?”

  What if he had a point? If there was something to it, she had to at least try. This guy couldn’t be allowed to spend the next four years a free man.

  Before she convinced herself not to speak, she said, “In about four hours, I need to be somewhere.”

  “We’re listening.”

  “At this place, I am going to stop a man from meeting with a thirteen-year-old girl who has been lying about her age online. They’re supposed to meet to travel the world together. He has been luring her for some time now. He’s in his fifties. All I know is where to be and when. Then it’s done.”

  “And you feel confident this man is not our guy?”

  “Absolutely. The little girl has never been to the crisis center. Not at her age.”

  “Okay,” Lyson said. “I don’t think any of that matters anymore.”

  “Good,” Sarah said. “I need to leave so I can change out of this stupid top—”

  “No, Sarah. It doesn’t matter anymore because you are under arrest for aiding and abetting a murderer. I’m not playing games anymore.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. You’re bluffing.”

  “Afraid not. Unless you give us the details of where this meeting is to take place and everything else Vivian has told you. Sounds like you have four hours to decide where you want to spend the night. In jail or at home.”

  The door to the conference room burst open, smacking into the wall. The two FBI agents from last night bustled in followed by three Toronto officers in uniform.

  “What is this?” Lyson shouted. “Why are you two here?”

  “One more word out of you, Dinosaur, and your retirement starts tonight.” The FBI agent tur
ned to Sarah. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

  “She’s not going anywhere.” Lyson moved between them. “You’re in a Toronto police station on Canadian soil. Since when does the FBI operate up here with impunity?”

  “Since your boss sanctioned it.” No one moved. “We warned you off Sarah last night. Now you arrest her to get her down here?”