Forced to Kill

  An employee from Salt Lake’s Million Air jet center directed them to a transient parking area. After the main rotor wound down, they stepped onto terra firma and stretched. The Bell 407 was a comfortable ride, but sitting for long periods of time took its toll. He did a quick walk around the ship. Everything looked good.

  “There she is!” Harv said.

  He turned toward the jet center, where Special Agent Mary Grangeland had just stepped through the sliding glass doors.

  “Easy,” Harv said, “you’re staring.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Grangeland waved.

  Her lean physique, blue eyes, and blond hair made for a stunning combo. Her sidearm closed the deal. Fifty feet away, she almost broke into a run. He took a few steps toward her. She wrapped him up in a bear hug and didn’t let go.

  “It’s good to see you, Nathan.”

  Harv stepped forward. “Hey, save some of that for me.”

  She let go and gave Harv a long hug too. To Nathan’s surprise, Grangeland had a single tear running down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Sorry about the emotional reunion.”

  “Hey, no need to apologize,” Harv said and released her. “This is just what the doctor ordered. You look great. Everything okay? You made a full recovery?”

  She patted her stomach. “I lost my gallbladder, but that’s not the end of the world.”

  “I’m sorry,” Nathan said.

  “The bullet missed my spine by an eyelash. All things being equal, I’m just glad to be alive. And walking.”

  “Amen to that,” Harv added.

  “I owe you guys my life.”

  “That debt,” he said, “goes both directions. You took a bullet for us.”

  Though as attractive as any woman he’d known, Grangeland had incredible physical strength, which, when combined with her combat training, made her a tough opponent. Under adversarial circumstances when they first met, Grangeland had challenged him to an open-handed fight—minus any head blows—and to his shock and admiration, she’d wrestled him into a half nelson in mere seconds. A rocky start, but their friendship had grown closer ever since. After the dust had settled, she told them she preferred being called Grangeland, not Mary. He had a hard time picturing her as “Mary” anyway. While working, she wore her hair in a utilitarian ponytail. Her eyes and strong cheekbones gave her a distinct Scandinavian look. Nathan had never asked her age but guessed she must be in her early thirties. Never married, it seemed. He’d have to ask about that sometime.

  A tanker truck rumbled up to refuel the helicopter. The driver slid out and did a double take at Grangeland. She probably got that all the time. She smiled and the driver smiled back.

  Despite himself, Nathan found his mood lifting.

  The three of them started toward the jet center.

  “You guys realize that you’ve become something of a legend in our Fresno office, don’t you?” asked Grangeland. “Unofficially, you’re known as the Lone Ranger and Tonto.”

  “Who’s who?” Harv asked.

  Nathan said, “That’s kinda obvious, Harv. A white guy. A brown guy.”

  Harv objected. “Hey, I’m the one with the silver horse.”

  “You own a horse?”

  “Eight of them.”

  “I love riding.”

  Nathan smiled. “I’ll bet you do.”

  She punched his arm.

  “What?”

  Chapter 15

  Nathan used the drive to the medical examiner’s office to fill Grangeland in on everything they could. The call from Holly. The meeting with General Hawthorne. Bullfrog Bay. Stiegler’s houseboat. The Kramer crime scene. Thorny’s removal from the case and the ironclad implication that Kramer’s murder and the abduction of Nichole Dalton and her daughters were all linked to Montez.

  Nathan knew she had a ton of questions. He forestalled them by pointing at his face. “We’re after the man who did this to me.”

  Grangeland winced. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Not too much. In a nutshell, one of our missions went south and I fell into his hands. Harv got away. I didn’t. I was held captive for three weeks.”

  She softened her voice. “Nathan, I’m sorry.”

  “It happened a long time ago. When Harvey rescued me, I was close to death. He carried me through two miles of jungle at night.”

  “I know you guys are really close, I just never knew why.”

  “His name is Colonel Juan Montez de Oca, formerly of the Sandinista National Liberation Front. He’s a professional interrogator.”

  “How will you find him?”

  “We may not. He’s a trained spook.”

  “Did seeing the crime scene spark anything?”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  Harv cut in. “As far as we know, Nathan’s the only person on Earth to survive a Montez interrogation. If Montez finds out Nathan’s alive, we might as well paint a target on his forehead. We’re trying to keep our involvement under wraps for as long as possible.”

  “Understood. I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

  Nathan let Harv continue. His thoughts were elsewhere.

  “You’re a proven asset,” Harv said. “We definitely want you on our team.”

  “Can you tell me anything about your past? What you guys used to do?”

  “We were a Marine scout sniper team, then CIA operations officers. That’s about all we can say. Sorry.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Holly said you have a master’s degree in forensics?”

  “Criminal science with an emphasis on forensics.”

  “You’ve already seen Kramer’s body?”

  She nodded.

  “What did you think?”

  “Well, at that time I didn’t know a professional interrogator had killed Kramer. It looked like some sort of ritual killing, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Now that I know a bit more about the suspect, I’d have to say there’s a savageness to the injuries that goes beyond what an interrogator would inflict strictly to extract information. Either way, I suppose my best guess remains the same. Montez is a severely twisted individual, bordering on psychopathic.”

  “He’s all that, and more,” Harv said.

  The onboard nav took them east, through downtown toward the mountains. The pleasant female voice issued turn-by-turn directions and deposited them into a large complex of medical buildings and offices. He could still call this off, but each passing minute made the decision more difficult.

  She parked, cut the engine, and pivoted to face Nathan. “It’s not too late.”

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Inside the brick building, Grangeland flashed her FBI badge to the receptionist, who made a call and said Dr. Salk would be right with them.

  Nathan took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He relaxed his hands and focused on Grangeland. She offered a reassuring smile. Harv seemed equally nervous, but was much better at concealing it.

  A man in a gray business suit stepped out of a door and extended his hand to Grangeland first. Not unexpected. They’d already met.

  “Thank you for seeing us,” she said. “This is Nathan McBride and Harvey Fontana.”

  “I’m Dr. Jonas Salk, no relation.” No doubt he said that to everyone. In his mid-fifties, Salk had thinning hair that looked a shade too dark. “I’m the chief medical examiner.”

  Dr. Salk looked over the top of his black-rimmed glasses, obviously fascinated by the scars. Nathan was sorely tempted to lean in close and turn his head from side to side so Salk could “examine” the damage in all its glory. “Doctor,” he said, and shook hands.

  Salk recovered his composure. “Would you… ah… like a brief tour first?”

  “Thank you,” Grangeland said, “but we’ve a got another appointment after this.”

  “No problem. This way, please.”

  They followed Dr. Salk down a short hall. Salk spoke as they
walked. “We’ve got the body in our refrigeration room. I didn’t want to bring it out until you arrived. I should warn you, it’s one of the worse cases of mutilation I’ve ever seen. Whoever did it knew what he, or she, was doing. The victim’s submergence in water washed the exterior applications, but we found traces of QuikClot in the victim’s bloodstream. The only reasonable conclusion is that his attacker didn’t want him to bleed to death. The margins also indicated cauterization. There still would’ve been significant bleeding, just not as much.”

  Harv looked back and mouthed the words, You okay?

  He gave a tight nod. Montez hadn’t used a hot knife on him, but he had used a clotting agent that had stung like all hell.

  They entered the examination room and he noticed the drop in temperature right away. It looked and smelled both sterile and chemical. Lots of shiny surfaces and stainless steel. Drainage sinks. Mobile instrument tables. Cabinets. Computer stations. Four autopsy tables lined one wall. A large stainless door on the far side of the room probably led to the walk-in refrigerator.

  “I’ll need one of you to help me with the body.”

  Harv volunteered.

  He and Grangeland waited in the exam room.

  Grangeland spoke softly. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling.”

  Nathan steadied himself for what was about to roll out of that icy cell and what it represented. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Escape was a few steps away. No. Not now. Especially not now. How would that look? Running away at the moment of truth?

  The door reopened with a clank.

  Chapter 16

  Nathan squinted as Salk rolled the body into the room. An opaque plastic sheet covered Kramer’s form.

  It’s just a body.

  Harv’s expression told all. One part revulsion, one part anger.

  The gurney stopped.

  Dr. Salk removed the plastic.

  What lay before him looked sickeningly familiar.

  An inch apart, diagonal knife cuts savaged the ash-gray skin in a crisscrossing pattern from collarbone to belt line. The cuts on the outer portions of the torso extended down to the steel surface of the table. The flesh within the wounds looked raw and dark. Montez had turned this man into a human wicker basket.

  When Nathan spoke, he felt like two people imprisoned in a single body. “We’ve been thinking about something. In the middle of a desert, why would the killer bother to dump the body in the lake?”

  Salk answered matter-of-factly. “Because it wasn’t a body when it went into the water.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said this man was alive.”

  “Alive?”

  “We found silt in his lungs, consistent with the location where he was recovered. Our conclusion is that he held his breath for as long as possible before inhaling the muddy water after he hit bottom. His body was recovered ninety feet down. The diver reported the silt was disturbed immediately around the body. We’re positive he thrashed around.”

  Nathan couldn’t respond. He was with Kramer in that pitch-black water during his last moments. Descending. Veins bulging. Eardrums bursting. Eyes wide open in terror. Plummeting into a freezing abyss. Inhaling water when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. No hope of surviving.…

  He sensed Grangeland take his hand.…

  And something else. Hatred, deep and vicious, expanded inside him like an acidic fracture.

  Grangeland called out, her tone frantic. “Nathan!”

  “Huh?”

  “My hand!”

  He released it.

  Harv grabbed his arm. “We’re outta here.”

  “What’s going on?” Salk asked.

  Harv pulled him toward the door.

  The next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor in the hallway with his back against the wall.

  ***

  “What the hell just happened?” Salk asked.

  “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” Grangeland said, rubbing her hand. “And he’s been really nervous about seeing the body. He’ll be okay. He just needs a minute to clear his head.”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve never seen a reaction like that. I saw him crush your hand. He nearly broke it. You want to tell me what’s going on? That man just spooked me, and that’s not easy to do, not at this point in my career.” Salk started toward the door.

  She touched his shoulder. “Please, Doctor, just give them a minute.”

  ***

  “Breathe, Nathan. Close your eyes and use your safety catch.”

  “I can’t.” Images from a tortured past flooded his mind, all of them terrifying. A bullwhip’s crack. Clenched teeth. Scattering birds. Moths. Sneering faces. A bloody knife.

  “Do it now.” Harv grasped both his shoulders and yanked him forward. “Send him away, he doesn’t control you anymore. He can’t do anything without your permission. Send him away.”

  Nathan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and visualized autumn-cloaked trees. He stood under the branches and spread his arms. A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves past his body, brushed them against his skin. A few swirled at his feet. He took another breath and let it out slowly.

  “That’s it,” Harv said. “Deeper.”

  It took a moment, but a calmness washed through him. All traces of hatred evaporated.

  Replaced by resolve.

  Harv smiled and offered a hand up from the floor. “Welcome back.”

  “Damn, that was close.”

  “Tell me about it. I was about to deliver a haymaker.”

  “You’d really do that?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “He drowned him, Harv.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re going skin him alive for that.”

  “Let’s get back in there.”

  Salk stared as they reentered the room. Respectfully, Grangeland didn’t.

  “Doctor, Special Agent Grangeland, please accept my apology. I’m not used to seeing this sort of thing.”

  “It’s an understandable reaction,” Salk said. “This is an exceptionally bad case. Would you like some water?”

  “Thank you, no.” When Salk turned toward the body, he mouthed I’m okay to Grangeland.

  Her expression held genuine concern, but she didn’t react.

  He appreciated her discretion and took a closer look at the body, pointing at several pairs of dark spots between the knife cuts. “Doctor, what are those marks?” He already knew the answer, all too well.

  “They’re from a stun gun. Based on the pole spacing and the degree of discoloration, we think it’s from a King Cobra police model. Packs quite a punch, nine hundred thousand volts. The body has twenty-two sets of marks. I put a rush on all the lab work. We should have the results tomorrow afternoon.”

  Grangeland handed Dr. Salk a business card. “When the results come back, will you call me right away?”

  “Yes, I can have the reports faxed to your field office.”

  No one spoke for several seconds.

  Dr. Salk broke the silence. “Mr. McBride, have you seen this before?”

  “What, a dead body?”

  “This exact kind of trauma.”

  He locked eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your reaction. I just had a feeling you recognized it.”

  Harv stepped forward. “We do recognize it. We saw photographs a couple days ago.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I’m sorry.”

  Yeah, Doc, you did. “No harm done,” Nathan said. “I might’ve asked the same thing in your shoes.” He forced a smile. “I probably looked like I saw a ghost.”

  “That’s a pretty fair description.”

  Distraction time. “Do you ever get used to it? I mean, you know…”

  “Working with the dead? I enjoy my work, although truth be told, I’m not as involved with postmortem examinations as I used to be. As the ME, my job involves more administrative work now. I made an e
xception here. Now that I’ve had a chance to study this case in depth, I’d have to say this man wasn’t a victim of a ritual killing. I believe he was interrogated.”

  “Interrogated? You mean for information? Like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Although it looks like a serial killer’s signature, the pathology of most serials involves ritual to some degree or another. In this case, for example, the crisscrossing diagonal cuts seem to suggest the pattern has meaning to the killer. Why else would he or she do it? We may never know the significance of the diamond pattern, but I guarantee it would have a significant meaning to a serial killer. With me so far?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Then we seem to have a contradiction. The killer marred the untouched diamonds of skin by using a stun gun on them. It would be like a killer applying makeup to a dead woman’s face and then purposefully smearing it. Granted, there are no absolutes, and there are always exceptions, and this could be one of them, but I feel the stun gun was used on the diamonds of skin to inflict maximum pain, not as part of a ritual. Because the nerve endings surrounding the incisions were frayed, burned, and exposed, the electricity would’ve been excruciatingly painful. Hypothetically speaking, if this man knew what his killer wanted, he gave it up. Something else. Serial killers rarely leave their victims alive before disposing of them.”

  “Your knowledge of serial killers is impressive,” Harv said.

  “At the risk of sounding morbid, they’re often most interesting and challenging cases, but they’re also extremely rare.” Salk looked at Grangeland, then back to Harv. “The FBI uses the information medical examiners discover to help formulate profiles of serials. I had my assistant do a database search and there aren’t any cases like this in our system, even for as long as we’ve kept records.” Salk looked at Grangeland. “Even your FBI has nothing like this in its ViCAP national database. We seem to have a unique case here. A special agent from Quantico’s behavior analysis unit two is flying out here tomorrow to examine at the body.”