“I did. He sent the photo of Sylvia to my phone. I called him on a burner that couldn’t be traced just in case. The message actually came in on Lizzy’s phone.” She shook her head. “There were two other photos as well. They both were taken of Lizzy at the new location for Strike Force.”
“We can’t tell Holden or the rest of the team any of this,” Asher said. He had no doubt Holden would smell something was off. “He’ll question the sheriff.”
Olivia smiled. “Yeah, I know. I warned him. We talked about what’s happening at length. He’s in agreement with us.”
The world had been plunged into utter chaos for a number of months when a group known as Legion attempted to overthrow the governments of the world. Now, all of the sudden, recent news reports were claiming the conspiracy had originated from the US president, Seth Lancaster, and the group of freedom fighters. For Asher, the accusations didn’t add up.
“Has there been any new sightings of the man who showed up at Lizzy’s house and tried to kill her?” Asher roused himself from the world and its troubles. He’d leave that to the ones in control and focus his efforts on finding the Van Gogh Killer before he claimed Sylvia Abbott’s life.
“Nothing.” Olivia confirmed what he suspected.
“So if this is truly the second half of the Van Gogh team who has taken Sylvia, and I think we can assume it is, then this single killer appears to have traveled back to D.C. with the intention of stepping from the shadows of Buckley and striking out on his own.” This was a whole new game because the killer had taken his first victim as a solo killer.
◆◆◆
He carried the body to the place where she would be found. A place of significance to one particular person but the location would further muddle the efforts of those looking for him. This pleased him.
She’d been a strong opponent, but she was no match for him.
He posed her on the steps leading up to the pulpit of the church, then placed the photo of Starry Night in her hands. This was the last time he’d used the photo, but he wanted them to know he was Van Gogh, only stronger alone and he would make himself known to the world. He’d chosen a different trophy to remember her pain. One that he doubted anyone would discover because he was that smart.
Smoothing her hair back, he wanted the world to see the pain she’d endured. It was emblazoned on her face. Written on her body. His greatest handiwork.
Buckley had taught him how to inflict pain without ruining the canvas unlike his father. But he wasn’t Buckley and he planned to make his legacy much greater than both his mentor or his father. With each new kill he would surpass the old master and create a game of hide and seek, hiding right under their noses.
A smile creased his face as he thought about the future. For the first time since his mentor had made him a partner, he finally felt empowered. No more second place for him. No more living in someone’s shadow. No more living in fear. He’d studied all the great ones. Bundy. Gacy. The Ripper. Berkowitz. The Zodiac. It was his time to outshine them.
The woman’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. He knelt beside her and reveled in his handiwork. She’d withstood his cruelty for a long time, but in the end, she’d begged for her life. Cried just like the others. Disappointed him.
He rose and tossed a disgusted glance her way before he slipped out the side door and left the church. He’d parked his stolen car there near a tree that blocked it mostly from the road.
On the way back to the cabin, he rolled the window down despite the freezing temperature. In the air tonight, something else filled him with excitement. Change. More was coming. He’d feared it in the past. Now he invited it.
The drive soothed his pent-up energy, but it wouldn’t last long. He’d need to kill again soon.
He stopped the car in front of the cabin and glanced around the darkness before he got out. To linger here—relieve the murder—was strong. But he had work to do. A life to live. Other victims to claim.
He hurried down to the basement, the smell of bleach overpowering. With the blue light on, he made sure he’d destroyed all traces of blood. Once he was satisfied no one would ever suspect this as a killer’s lair, and there was no connection to him, he left the basement and locked the door.
The rudimentary furnishings of his childhood were covered in dust, a reminder of his family’s lack of social standing. He’d risen from the dust of his past and that skinny little boy he’d been back then. So naïve. So scared of everything. Well, that boy was dead and gone. Buried in a past that would never be resurrected again. He closed the front door and locked it before slipping the key into his pocket.
Time to return to his vanilla life. . . for now. But he had his next victim in his sights already. The beast who lived inside of him would soon be clawing to be released. And he couldn’t deny the beast for long.
He slid into his car and headed back to the barbed wire gate. Once the gate was locked and he’d turned onto the county road, his cell phone rang.
Her number. He glanced at the phone with distaste. Drawing in a deep breath, he picked it up and answered. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Chapter Three
“We found her.” Agent Luke Sorenson ended the call and faced the group who’d been working tirelessly to find Sylvia Abbott.
Olivia dropped what she was doing with a sinking feeling. The moment she caught a glimpse of Luke, the truth became clear. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Luke confirmed with a nod.
It was a kick in the gut that they hadn’t been able to save Sylvia before she died at the hands of a heartless killer. “Where was she found?” Olivia asked, her voice broken. Stomach knotted with regret.
“First Christian Church outside of Gaithersburg, Maryland. It’s a small church—around a hundred members. The pastor arrived this morning to work on his sermon for Sunday and found her at the altar. The police were called. They’re there now waiting for us. According to the detective who caught the case, the church leaves its doors open twenty-four-seven. They keep the pastor’s office and the media room locked, but otherwise everything is left open—even the annex. The pastor said people who travel through the area stop in to rest. Some even spend the night.” Luke stopped before stating the obvious. “There are going to be a lot of fingerprints.”
Olivia grabbed her jacket from the back of his chair. “It’s Tuesday. Did the pastor mention the last time he’d been at the church?”
“Sunday for the evening service. He stops by a couple of times during the week to check on things and prepare his sermon.”
Asher was already way ahead of her. “I’ll drive.” He headed out the door. This wasn’t the news they wanted to hear, but it was crucial that they work the crime scene carefully. They couldn’t afford to miss anything.
“Declan and I are right behind you,” Luke called after them.
Olivia raced to catch up to her partner. Both hit the back entrance and hurried to the parking area for employees. Asher slid into the driver’s seat and barely waited until Olivia was in the vehicle before he reversed.
While the SUV sped toward the location of their latest body, all Olivia could think about was the pain that would be coming Sylvia’s parents' way when they learned about their only child’s death.