Creatures of Appetite Page 3

  “Bryan,” Kelly whispered. “Bryan! I hear something.”

  “It’s the furnace,” Bryan didn’t even open his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

  “It’s NOT the furnace, listen,” Kelly shook him again. “Wake up and listen!”

  “Woman, would you just …” Bryan stopped suddenly. He’d heard something himself. Bryan grabbed his glasses from the nightstand next to the bed and put them on. He held a hand up to his wife to quiet her as he sat up. They listened together again to their house, which now had nothing to say for itself. Now Bryan didn’t care for the silence of his house, it was almost like his home had been whispering and somehow gotten shushed. Bryan swung out of bed, barefoot in sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “Did you check on Wendy before bed?”

  “Yes, like always,” Kelly whispered. “She was out like a light, you know she always sleeps hard after swimming. What is it?”

  “It’s probably nothing. I’m gonna check on Wendy. You stay here.”

  Bryan padded over to their closed bedroom door. He paused before opening it, reached down and grabbed the baseball bat right next to the bedroom closet. With everything going on, he and Kelly had been taking care never to let their daughter Wendy, who was nine, out of their sight at any time outside of their house. They took turns waiting for her after her school functions and she never went anywhere without one of her parents close by.

  In addition, he’d started keeping his trusty baseball bat close by the bed when he slept, which made him feel better even though the house was bolted up tight at night. He had a shotgun in the house as well, most folks in Nebraska did, but that was kept locked up downstairs in the cabinet. He couldn’t very well leave a loaded shotgun lying around his bedroom because Wendy was in the habit of walking in her sleep and sometimes he and Kelly would wake up to find her snuggled in bed between them.

  They couldn’t take the chance that she might pick the weapon up, even in her sleep. As he listened at the door to the hallway, Bryan thought to himself, just for a brief moment, that maybe it was time to move the whole damn gun cabinet into their bedroom.

  He hoped Wendy had another case of the night-walks, gotten up to go to the bathroom for a glass of water or to pee, and that was all it was.

  “Bryan!”

  “Shhh!”

  Bryan slowly cracked the bedroom door open and looked out into the hall. Nothing. He opened it all the way and stepped quietly out into the hall, listening very hard to his house as it slept.

  A small night-light cast a bit of illumination around the hall and the rest of the second floor. Bryan tiptoed to the railing of the stairs and looked down into the first floor. Everything was quiet and covered in shadow. Nothing moved or made noise. Bryan walked quietly toward his daughter’s bedroom, hefting his bat to calm his nerves. Bryan slowly opened his daughter’s door and stepped in, bat held high.

  Under the blue glow of her Lilo and Stitch night-light, his daughter Wendy slept, curled up blissfully in her bed. Bryan breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his bat. He gently moved an errant blonde hair that had fallen into Wendy’s mouth and adjusted the covers on her bed. Can’t be too careful these days with all the insanity going on in the world, Bryan thought as he watched his daughter sleep.

  Bryan returned to his bedroom and his wife a few moments later, shut their bedroom door and tossed his bat back to its spot next to his closet.

  “Is she …” Kelly whispered.

  “Wendy’s fine, I just checked on her, sleeping like a baby.”

  Bryan yawned, put his glasses on the nightstand and crawled back into bed.

  “Is everything …”

  “Everything’s cool, I went downstairs, checked everything out, house is still locked up, nobody there, nothing to worry about.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “Just the house, houses make noise as they settle for the winter. Don’t worry, honey-bunny.”

  Bryan turned off the lamp next to the bed and settled back under the covers. Kelly snuggled up close to her husband. “My hero.” They cuddled for a few moments. “Bryan. Bryan?”

  “What?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “So go get a drink of water.”

  “You’re already up. Bryan? Bryyyan. I’ll make it worth your while. Bryan?”

  “Damn, Kelly! All right, okay.”

  Bryan grabbed his glasses and slid out of bed again, this time without turning the light on. He stomped over to his bedroom door and opened it.

  A tall man in black with a dark ski mask pulled over his head stood in the bedroom doorway. The Iceman.

  Before Bryan could speak or react, the Iceman quickly touched him on the side of his neck with an electric stun gun, which sparked upon contact with Bryan’s skin.

  Bryan collapsed to the floor without a sound, unconscious.

  Kelly turned toward the door at the sound of the Taser and squinted into the darkness of the bedroom before her.

  Without a word, the Iceman stepped into the dark bedroom toward the fallen man’s wife.

  “Bryan?” Kelly whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  Bad winter weather blanketing the Midwest made for a bouncy flight on the Bureau plane. Thorne hunched over the case file in his lap, oblivious to the turbulence. Kane walked unsteadily down the aisle and sat in the seat opposite him.

  “What do you think so far?” Kane asked.

  “I think that you should stay on the other side of the plane and not bother me,” Thorne grunted.

  “There’s been another abduction.”

  “Where?” Thorne perked up.

  “York, Nebraska,” she handed over her iPad.

  “York, Nebraska?” Thorne grabbed it. “Where the fuck is York, Nebraska?”

  “Wendy Frederickson, nine years old,” Kane recited from memory, “blonde, blue eyes, no distinguishing marks or scars. Taken from her bedroom. Parents left unconscious but alive and unharmed, they thought they heard someone in the house and when they went to investigate someone zapped them with a stun gun. They don’t recall what he looked like, how big he was or any distinguishing characteristics. They have very little memory of what happened once they woke up. Doors of the house were dead-bolted; everything was left locked just as it was before they went to bed.

  “We don’t know how he got in and we don’t know how he got out. A few fibers, couple of scratches on the door, but other than that, no prints, nothing.”

  “Of course not,” Thorne glanced at the emailed report for a moment before burying his head back into the file.

  “We’ve hit a snowstorm, so we’re going to be late in landing,” Kane said.

  Thorne grunted, not looking at her. Kane watched him for a bit before speaking again.

  “I’d rather not fight with you on this, Agent Thorne. You’ve got one hell of a reputation. You have more letters of recommendation than anyone in the history of the Bureau.”

  “And more letters of censure.”

  “Some say you’re the best there is.”

  “I’m one of them.”

  “If you’re the best, then tell me,” Kane leaned forward, “do you have any idea who this Iceman is yet?”

  “Not WHO. Only WHAT.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Kane thought about that. “You’re saying that you don’t know WHO he is, but you do know WHAT he is.”

  “Hey, look at that,” Thorne looked up from the file, “she’s not just a pair of tits and a smile.”

  “You’ve got a problem with women, I’ve noticed that. It must have been tough for you, leaving Hoover and the Eisenhower era behind.”

  “Hoover was a fag.”

  “I believe the official term was transvestite. Regardless, I think it’s time for you to adjust to the situation, meaning, cease and desist the sexist bullshit effective immediately.”

  “What for?”


  “What for? We’re partners.”

  “We’re not partners.”

  “We are partners.”

  “We are not partners, this isn’t a buddy picture here. We’re not Butch and Sundance, Starsky and Hutch or Freebie and Bean. We’re not even Turner and Hooch. Get it straight. I’m here for one reason only. To close this case. No other reason. That’s it. I am not here to Miyagi a fucking rookie who’s been skating on her looks. Got it, Tootsie?”

  Kane’s eyes got hot.

  “Let’s get something straight here, bub,” Kane leaned back, “My name is Kane, Special Agent Emma Kane with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, currently assigned to ISU National. Before that I did eight years with Homicide in DC. I closed cases. Women make you uncomfortable, attractive women especially, so I will apologize to you now for my clear skin and good bone structure, but never again. I’m not responsible for your insecurity. I closed cases, I closed tough cases, that’s why the Bureau recruited me and that’s why I got assigned to this case.

  “I don’t fucking skate, clear? You can dislike me or my gender, but you’d better recognize my ability and you’d better not ever call me Tootsie ever again, otherwise there is going to be a serious problem between the two of us. Now. Are you done trying to fuck with me?”

  “You didn’t get assigned on this case,” Thorne said.

  “Yes I did …”

  “You didn’t, you requested this case. There’s a difference.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I could tell you a lot about yourself if I thought it was worth the time, but what would be the point? You’re a major blue-flamer with a bug up your ass and obvious personal issues, that much is painfully obvious,” Thorne said. “Why this case?”

  “Why not? I’m along for the ride, like it or not, why not show me some of what you can do?”

  “Why should I help your career?”

  “If career was all I cared about, I would have requested the Mercy Killings.”

  “And that’s why I asked you, why this case?” Thorne pointed out.

  “Someone’s got to work it.”

  “Got a thing for kids, is that it?”

  “Who doesn’t have a thing for kids?”

  “I don’t.”

  “All right, it’s true. I asked for this case. So what?

  “You see yourself as an avenger, is that it? Are you satisfying your maternal kicks trying to save kids?”

  “I volunteered because it’s a kid case and it’s getting the short end of the stick.”

  “That’s not the real reason.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, it’s not, at least, that’s not the real reason in specifics.”

  “It’s little kids, what do you think …”

  “It’s because it’s little girls,” Thorne cut her off. “That’s what it is for you. Little girls. It fries you that he targets little girls and girls alone.”

  Kane didn’t look away, but didn’t deny it, either. “It needs the attention. Everyone else is focused on the Mercy Killings, which you were working before you decided to retire.”

  “I didn’t retire. I was retired. There’s a difference.”

  “Why were you retired?”

  “Why should I tell you? You’re so smart, you should be able to figure it out on your own.”

  “What is it, you couldn’t handle it and they had to yank you, is that it?”

  “If that’s what you believe, why would you care what I think about this case?” Thorne asked as he leaned back, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.

  “I don’t know what I believe yet, I just want to catch this killer, that’s it, nothing else. I’d rather do it with you than without you. Come on. Show me your game.”

  Thorne fixed her with a gimlet eye for a moment, gazing down deep into her innards, as Kane would think of it later.

  “You want in, profile me. Pitch it to me shorthand, the Jacob Thorne story.”

  “Shorthand?” Kane asked.

  “Profile me, then maybe I’ll play ball with you. Pitch me my profile, twenty-five words or less. Tell me. What am I?”

  Kane mulled that challenge, her mind working fast.

  “Cowboy. See yourself as Shane, riding into town to find Jack Palance, shoot his ass and get the fuck out of Dodge.”

  Thorne settled back into his seat, smiling and soaking that in for a moment.

  “Shane?” Thorne said. “That’s not bad. I like that. You even have three words to spare.”

  “Problem. With. Authority.”

  “Authority and I have no problems as long as authority recognizes that I am absolutely, always right.”

  “Am I in the game?” Kane asked.

  Thorne thought for a long moment. Finally he shrugged and went back to his file.

  “For now.”

  “So then tell me. What this killer is, why is that important?”

  “It’s the first step of the equation.”

  “What equation?”

  “WHAT plus WHY equals WHO.”

  “So if we know WHAT he is …”

  “And WHY he does what he does …”

  “Then we know WHO. WHAT plus WHY equals WHO.”

  “Very good,” Thorne said, “Miyagi have hope for you. Now leave me alone, I have work to do and I can’t do it with you bending over me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Thorne and Kane finally landed in the city of Lincoln, the capital of Nebraska, later that day. Kane had had plenty of time while stuck on the plane to do some Internet research. Nebraska was 76,872 square miles in size, which made it the sixteenth largest state in the union just in terms of area. The last census put the population at 1,711,263. Factor area with that number and you got a population density of 22.3 people per square mile. Nebraska’s nickname was the Cornhusker State. The state flower the goldenrod, the state bird the western meadowlark and the state motto, “Equality Before the Law.”

  Kane wasn’t sure if any of this information would help, but she wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t, either. They hopped into a squad car and headed for Task Force Headquarters. Kane took a look around as they cut through the city, but it was hard to see anything through the falling snow.

  Thorne simply closed his eyes, slumped down in the seat and ignored her. He hadn’t said a word since their conversation on the plane and Kane was reluctant to speak and possibly lose what little ground she’d gained earlier, so she just let him be and stayed silent and kept surfing the net.

  With a population of just under a quarter of a million souls, Lincoln was small, comparatively speaking, for a state capital, though its size and population grew significantly during the college school year, Lincoln being the home to the University of Nebraska. The university’s football team, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, was extremely popular and it’s reported that whenever a home game is played in the fall, the streets are deserted, with everyone either at the game or watching it on television.

  A very clean city with wide sidewalks, friendly, helpful citizens and a low crime rate, considered the ideal place to raise a family. At least that’s what the official city website read, the authors of which one would imagine were far from objective. Even the bars closed early, at one in the morning, which meant that last call was at twelve-thirty. In black and white on her laptop it felt a lot like Kane’s home state of North Carolina, at least that was her first impression.

  That impression lasted all of two seconds once she stepped outside and a below zero wind brought tears to her eyes. Thorne cursed the cold under his breath as they walked up the steps and into Task Force Headquarters.

  Lieutenant Norman Hairston, an older man with obvious tendencies toward fussiness, stood waiting for them just inside headquarters and after introductions hurriedly led them through the maze of the main office area, peopled with large numbers of desks, cubicles, computers and men in uniform bustling about importantly.

  “We expected you hours ago, did you get my email?” Hair
ston asked as he ushered them to a couple of empty desk cubicles in the corner.

  “Yes I did, thank you, our plane was delayed by the snowstorm,” Kane replied.

  “The snow, yes, it is that time of year. Unfortunately, you’ve missed the morning briefing and there were one or two interesting developments. I’ve got a summary here somewhere, but first let me find the captain and introduce you. Andy, have you seen the captain?”

  Andy, an officer in uniform, didn’t look up from his desk where the report he worked on required as much concentration as he could reasonably spare. “He’s in the can. He just went in, so he’ll probably be awhile.”

  “Ah yes. The coffee hit. We’re going to have you two situated at these desks here. Make yourselves at home and I’ll see if I can arrange for someone to catch you up to where we are,” Hairston bustled off.

  Kane set her bag and coat down on the desk and gazed out the window. The amount of snow falling amazed her. A large map of Nebraska tacked up on one wall drew Thorne’s attention. He examined it closely, pausing only to pop a fresh stick of gum into his mouth.

  “Kane,” Thorne said.

  “What?” Kane swiveled quickly.

  “Where are they putting us up, anyway?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure. Budget Inn, I think.”

  “First class as usual,” Thorne grunted, focused on the map on the wall. The abduction sites were all clearly marked on the map, crossing the state. Thorne followed them with his finger. Posted next to the map on a bulletin board were pictures of all the missing children.

  Andy looked up from his paperwork to see Kane not even two feet away from him. He gawked openly at her.

  “Are you really an FBI Agent?” Andy asked.

  “I am,” Kane looked at him sideways. “They gave me a real gun and everything.”

  As he studied the map on the wall, Thorne became aware of someone in a state Trooper uniform standing next to him.

  “Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

  “What is?” Thorne asked.

  “This. We really should have caught someone by now, don’t you think?”

  “As long as it’s the right someone, then yes, I do think that.”