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Scott ignored the senior investigator. “Gotcha.” He walked over to the corpse. “Who is he anyway?”

  “English car dealer named Graneth Kensington. I actually interviewed him the other day.” Now, he’s dead.

  Scott made a cross with his two index fingers. “Please never interview me then.”

  Patrick chuckled. “Just for forensic testimony.”

  “Of course,” Scott said as he pulled out a set of purple latex gloves. He opened his evidence kit and withdrew four plastic bags. Each candle and its holder were in a separate bag. He stowed them inside a secondary compartment of the evidence kit.

  Patrick shook his head as he pulled Cromartie off to the side. “The All Points is already out on Glover for the Azure Sutaki homicide. I’ll add this to the alert, as well.”

  Cromartie stared at the dead man. “Good. I think it’s safe to say it looks like Glover is our serial killer.”

  Or a copycat making him the scapegoat. Patrick wasn’t about to mention that, so he just gave Cromartie a casual nod of confirmation as they discussed about the nuances of an impending press conference. It would ease the souls of citizens residing in New Haven to finally have a suspect identified in the brutal slayings.

  Patrick appeared to be attentive to what his supervisor was saying, but a bevy of questions kept flashing through his head. The most intriguing had to do with Brandon Thornley. Was the well-respected corporate genius involved in the death of Jamie Brooks or Graneth Kensington? It could have been a coincidence, Thornley being spotted on the grounds of the abandoned church. Hell, he owned it. But the auto dealer’s death was nagging at every inch of Patrick’s body. Just a few days after Patrick was questioning the man about Thornley, he turns up here, murdered in ritualistic fashion. That was just too much for Patrick to swallow. Too much…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brandon Thornley couldn’t help but concern himself with his latest act of vengeance. The assassination of Graneth Kensington had been a knee-jerk reaction on his part. Brandon’s sole existence was to remain hidden in the light versus spotlighting his kills for the public. The addition of his unknown admirer at the auto dealership had certainly complicated his plans. At least for now.

  Brandon pushed through the doors of Langston Security Solutions, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflective glass. He ran his fingers over the scab of the wound Azure Sutaki had given him. A reminder of my mistake, he thought, hurrying by the security desk. When he turned in to the hallway, his second-in-charge, Monty York, spotted him and waved a paper in his direction.

  “Boss, you’re not gonna believe this!”

  “What’s going on, Monty?”

  “They identified the killer in all those crazy murders.”

  Must have worked…for now. “Really? Who are they naming?”

  Monty thrust the paper out towards him. “Look. I think you know him.”

  More than you think. Brandon grasped the paper. “Thanks.” Brandon’s gaze was draw to the bold printing.

  New Haven Police Identify Suspect in Recent Homicides.

  Brandon read the first few lines. A thin smile crossed his lips when Collin Glover’s name appeared before his eyes. Scapegoat, indeed. A review of the article’s content suggested local law enforcement were satisfied that the local attorney was the only suspect. Brandon’s face lit up when he read that. He must have been too engrossed in the paper because Monty was waving a hand in front of his face, looking concerned.

  “You all right?”

  “Oh…of course.” Brandon handed the paper back to him. “It’s wonderful the animal has been caught.”

  Monty pointed at the article. “Well, he’s been named as the suspect. They haven’t found him yet.”

  Yes, they did. “You know what I mean…the city can have some peace before the holidays.”

  “Yeah, the son-of-a-bitch is lucky I didn’t get my hands on him.” He balled up both fists. “If I was still on the department—”

  That’s it. “Monty, you mentioned knowing several people there, right?”

  Monty unclenched his hands. “Well sure, boss. Why? You need something?”

  A very valuable something. Brandon motioned for him to move closer. “I think someone is following me. I need a little favor.”

  Monty tapped him on the shoulder. “If you have a stalker, boss, I think it should be reported—”

  Brandon held up a hand. “Not yet. I want to keep it quiet.”

  Monty shook his head. “I don’t agree, but I understand. What can I do?”

  “Actually, it’s something small. The person who is following me…I think drives a light colored Caprice—”

  “Like the state patrol model?” Monty asked.

  “I think so. He was tailing me the night of the snowstorm.”

  Monty frowned. “Boss, lots of those driving around the state. You sure it was a Caprice?”

  I do pay attention to detail. “Sure of it. I just need to check and see if any patrol units stopped one the night of the storm.”

  Monty shrugged. “That’s all?”

  “I told you it was small.” Brandon smiled.

  “Just the plate information, then. Got it.” Monty flashed a devious smile. “You’re going to pay him a surprise visit?”

  A surprise it will be. Brandon returned the smile. “Nothing too dramatic. Just an inquiry of sorts.”

  “I gotcha.” Monty looked at his watch. “Give me about an hour. I’ll let you know.”

  Brandon shook his hand. “Great! I know I can always count on you, Monty.”

  Monty beamed. “Means a lot…you saying that.” The man reached out and shook Brandon’s hand with such force his fingers started to turn white.

  Brandon broke his grip. “So, within the hour then?”

  “If not sooner.” Monty waved as he walked down the hallway.

  A few minutes later, Brandon was in his office, sitting at his desk. He logged onto Konnect2u and browsed his new messages. They consisted of the usual, like professors requesting his appearance at various educational institutions around the country to discuss security management. Brandon typed a few replies, but the urge to click on the list of friend requests was too tempting. He scrolled through the list until one in particular caught his attention.

  The woman appeared to be in her mid twenties. Her dark complexion and her braided hair gave her a quite an exotic look. This is the one. Brandon scrolled through her profile. Truly nice. He clicked on the approval button as chills surged through his body. Monique Quentin was only a few hours from New Haven. Perfect choice to end the year. Brandon decided Monique Quentin needed to be the last conquest for a while at least. Especially if someone was keeping close tabs on him. The wound on his face should remind him of that. Another mistake, no matter how small, could prove to be devastating, and more than that, he would be exposed for who he truly was. His family would be dissected by the community. They would never escape the media frenzy that would most surely come.

  Brandon glanced over at the picture of his youngest son. He turned away, just in time, to see an incoming text on his phone.

  Hey, what’s up, boss?

  Just typing away. Aren’t I paying you to work?

  LOL.

  Meet me in the parking garage after work. We’re going to eat some steaks…my treat.

  Tempting. Can’t though. Some of us have only a few days left of Xmas shopping.

  You sure? I heard about this great place.

  Donovan, I really can’t. Tomorrow is only half day…you want to then?

  Sure. See ya then.

  Btw…get your ass back to work.

  LOL.

  Brandon turned towards his computer. He brought up the information page on his newest project. Monique Quentin worked for a private research facility. Her daily posts on Konnect2u featured links to the company web site. After a few minutes, he had the location of her employer and started to map out a plan. Brandon was lost in the excitement of planning her demise when he hea
rd a knock his door.

  Brandon minimized the screen. “Enter.”

  Monty York frowned as he stepped through. “Boss, got your information.”

  Brandon’s brows knotted. “What’s with you?”

  Monty reached into his pocket. He withdrew a folded envelope. “It’s in here.” He slid it over to Brandon.

  He’s acting strange. “Can’t be that bad.”

  Monty pulled out a chair. “It’s fucking not good.”

  The “f” word. I don’t usually hear that kind of language from him. Must be something. Brandon peeled it open. His jaw dropped as he flipped the yellow document on the desk. Why him?

  He looked up at Monty. “Okay, this is our secret. Your dispatcher friend is trustworthy?”

  Monty’s face turned red. “Yes. I couldn’t believe it was him?”

  A surprise to say the least. “Monty, I’ll handle this. Could be easy explanation.”

  Monty stood up. “I’ll tell you something…I didn’t trust the guy since I first saw him, anyway. Looks like a damn vampire.”

  Brandon nodded. “You don’t need to worry about it. I do have some experience in dealing with this sort of thing.”

  Monty chuckled. “I know…just pissed me off when I saw his name.”

  Me, too. “Just finish the shift. Half-day tomorrow. It’ll be addressed before then.”

  “Okay, I’ll back off.” Monty opened the door. He shook his head as he walked out of the office.

  Brandon fingered the yellow print-out. He clicked on the small box, which brought Monique Quentin into view. She would have to wait to join her place among his chosen. Right now, there was someone else who had just moved to the front of the line.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Donovan Petrie knew time was of the essence if his plan was to succeed. The New Haven Airport was the perfect place to conduct his search. Donovan walked along the sidewalk adjacent to the terminal. He noticed several limousines lined up along the curb. Each driver stood in front of their respective vehicles as they waited for their intended party. This is the place to start.

  Donovan walked up to the first driver and, after a few minutes of idle chitchat, determined he didn’t have the information Donovan needed. He repeated this process with each of the drivers for about an hour. Just as he was about to abandon his effort, he spotted someone he recognized as driver who would frequent Langston Security Solutions.

  Donovan waved to the man. “Excuse me. Can you help me?”

  The man looked to be in his mid fifties. The salt-and-pepper hair gave him a most distinguished appearance. He smiled when Donovan approached. “Hello, sir. How may I assist you?”

  Donovan pulled out his identification. “I’m Donovan Petrie with Langston Security Solutions. I’m looking for a driver who is assigned to our security director. I wasn’t sure if the chauffeurs hang out together, but it’s important I find him.”

  The man laughed. “Son, we talk shop like any other profession. You said Langston Security Solutions, right?”

  Donovan handed him a card. “I did. If you have any idea who the guy is, I would really appreciate it.”

  The man thought for a second. “Well, Mr. Petrie, I think the driver’s name is Landon Tewes.” He stuck his hand out. “By the way, I’m Peter Greensburg. I also drop off clients to your business all the time.”

  I thought so. “Great, here’s the deal. I’m going to throw a little Christmas party for some of the executive board tomorrow night, and I need to get a hold of Landon to coordinate. I don’t want Brandon to find out…if you know what I mean?”

  Peter expelled a hearty laugh. “That kind of party, huh?” He reached into his trench coat and handed Donovan a business card. “Here you are. This should have everything you need. If your company ever needs another driver, keep me in mind.”

  Donovan handed an envelope to the man. “Peter, thanks. Just a little something for your trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. Do me a favor, though.”

  “Sure.”

  Peter smiled. “When you get a hold of that old bastard Landon, wish him a happy holiday, and tell him to give me a ring. It’s been too long since we chatted and had a beer.”

  It’s going to be even longer. “I’ll do that. Again…thanks for helping me out. Tomorrow will be a day to remember.”

  Peter waved, as Donovan walked in a hurried pace towards the short-term parking lot.

  * * *

  Father of Faith was an exceptional education institution. The enrollment process was more similar to one of collegiate standards than it was for students just starting the learning process. The average applicant wouldn’t even be considered for a reservation unless a generous monetary donation accompanied the child’s application.

  Ryan Thornley’s parents would never admit it, but he was the benefactor of his father’s success. He knew the teachers didn’t consider him one of Father of Faith’s gifted, and they didn’t try to mask their disdain. On several occasions, while eating lunch, he would hear the staff making “fat” jokes as they passed by. The other children heard the conversations as well, and as sometimes kids do, took it upon themselves to make his life at the school a living hell. He had told his parents, but when his mother made an unexpected visit to the vice principal’s office, the man had denied any wrong doing and blamed the behavior on the other kids, not the teachers.

  Well, that was then, and now, he was just waiting for class to end for the Christmas break. Ryan stared at the wall clock. He tapped his pencil on the desk as excitement built up inside him. Mrs. Baines looked up from her desk. She cast a glare in his direction, which warned him to stop the commotion or face her wrath. Ryan put down the pencil. It was going to be great. It would be three whole weeks without the mean Mrs. Baines and the others who made fun of him. He would have Mom, Dad, and Sean, his older brother from college, around. They never made fun of him…ever.

  As the hands of the clock came together at twelve, the bell sounded. Ryan threw on his coat and rushed out of the classroom. He burst out the front door and skipped over several of the brick steps on his way to the front sidewalk. The teachers were already positioned on the sidewalk, standing by to ensure the kids were being picked up. Where is he? Ryan looked up and down the street in search of his father’s company driver. I hope he’s coming soon. He stood there for a few minutes until one of Father of Faith’s spiritual leaders walked up to him.

  “Ryan, is everything okay? Where’s your driver, son?

  Ryan shrugged. “Must be late, Father Scanlan.”

  He touched Ryan’s shoulder. “You want me to wait with you?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Shouldn’t be long, sir.”

  He looked up the street. The limo just turned the corner. It stopped several feet from the curb. Father Scanlan smiled at Ryan as he opened the door and got in. The car pulled into traffic. Ryan watched as the driver began driving a different direction than normal.

  He pushed the intercom button. “Landon, we not going home?”

  “Landon couldn’t make it today. I’m his replacement, Donovan. Your dad is waiting for you.”

  Wow! Time with Dad. “Cool, is Mom with him?”

  “No, just him. Mentioned he wanted to take you shopping for your mother’s present.”

  Ryan smiled. “Well, Donovan, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “No, Ryan, the pleasure is all mine…”

  Chapter Thirty

  Detective Patrick Morgan had been gazing at the bloody pictorial on the bulletin board for several hours. He was still not convinced Collin Glover was the primary suspect in the slayings. Commander Cromartie had issued a national pick-up order on Glover, so hopefully within a matter of days, the wanted man would be in custody. Patrick would be able to interrogate him, and he could get the answers he was searching for. He grabbed a folder from the desk, then removed the pictures and tacked them to the board.

  Most of the photos had the same characteristics, but one was strangely d
issimilar. Commander Cromartie had been too eager to wave off the obvious differences of Graneth Kensington’s murder. The killer turning on the air conditioner; painted the windows black; and finally, used the fragranced candles. Why would Collin Glover all of a sudden change this many details? Those were the questions that plagued him all day, and it didn’t seem to register with his supervisor or even his boss. Patrick knew the Chief of Police and Cromartie wanted to close the book on these Holiday Murders. This is what Chief Remmers had appropriately named them when he spoke with media earlier in the day. The citizens were assured by their leader that the rash of murders was finally solved. I hope that makes everyone feel better.

  Commander Cromartie gave Patrick the ceremonial bullshit speech about how his skills in the investigation lead to Collin Glover. He instructed him to go home and spend some time with his family and even had the nerve to mention how Kelsey’s medical condition was taking its toll on his work performance. Patrick would make sure to spend quality time with his family but not until he was certain this case was over. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t figured out anything yet. Patrick sat studying the forensic reports of each murder until he heard a soft knock at his office door.

  Dr. Abbey Krieger stepped inside. “Hello, Detective. I have been trying to get in touch with you or the Commander for a few hours.”

  Patrick rubbed his eyes. He unclipped his cell and realized the battery was dead. “Shit, I’m sorry. I have been here since 3:00 a.m.; must have forgot to charge it.” What was the point? The case was over according to everyone else. “The Commander probably turned his off, with the murders being solved and everything,” Patrick scoffed.

  “Solved?” She pulled off her white ski jacket. “I wanted you to see this.” She handed him a black folder. “The autopsy of Graneth Kensington.”