An Unkindness of Ravens Read online

  Sarah looked about the shoreline. It was a secluded spot and views to the area were restricted in many directions. There was a clear line of sight to the hillside Occoquan Bay Wildlife Refuge, but that was about it. It was far enough away that if anyone had been up there, they wouldn’t have been able to see what was going on down here anyway.

  The forensics team had arrived before Sarah had this time, and they were picking through the ground around the body for anything they could bag for testing. Most of it would be rubbish washed up from the bay but you couldn’t discount anything. So far, there had been no significant find and nothing apart from the watery location to distinguish this murder from the two at Whitney State Forest.

  There was something to be salvaged here, however, Sarah thought. If the killer was murdering his victims in the same place and carrying out the cleaning there, there was a new point to add into the equation. Now, it seemed the murders would have to have been committed somewhere accessible to all three sites in only a couple of hours. Sarah got into her car and looked at a map on her laptop. Her own quick calculations on the area now in question ran from just north of Baltimore, down south in a semi-circle through Harper’s Ferry, Winchester, Harrisonburg, Charlottesville, Petersburg, and on into Newport News. There would also be part of the state on the other side of the bay and some of Delaware too. Some of the same places were popping up as before. Of course, she was also discounting the murder committed by Stanver and Roche, despite it seeming the real killer (Spalding?) had been in that general area too, while the police search was going on.

  Getting out of the car, Sarah went back to the body. It had started to rain and the team were setting up a tent over Ferguson. Sarah looked at the big man, feeling sorry for him. The last of his life had been constant worry, afraid that someone was pinning a theft of Church money on him and then accusations of murder that looked like they had been unfounded now. His body was so white, and in death and wetness, his red hair and beard took on a darker hue.

  “Why was your hair in Harper’s Ferry?” she asked herself. More game playing by ‘John the Baptist,’ most likely.

  There came a babble of reporters’ questions behind her, the fast clicking of cameras back by the police line. Sarah turned to see the man who had found the body, wrapped now in a towel for warmth, standing by the police tape in front of the assembled media. Sarah had already spoken to him; his name was James Platt and he had been paddle boarding in the bay when he saw the body early this morning. He said it took him about half an hour by the time he got to the shore and called for help at a coffee shop as he didn’t have a cell phone with him for obvious reasons. He hadn’t seen anyone around and didn’t seem of much use to her. Now he would get some attention from the press, who would turn his story into something it was not, sensationalise his small part in the madness of murder that was taking place across this eastern portion of Virginia.

  Scanning the faces of the reporters, Sarah found she was hoping to see Tyler there. He didn’t seem to be and she wondered where he was, if he was on his way here or if he was working on something else. She smiled thinly - turning her head so no photographer could catch this image - at the fact of Tyler’s story being part of this story now, no matter whose job it was to write it. ‘The Baltimore Echo’ was going to be getting a lot of free advertising over the next twenty-four hours. What would Tyler think when he found out he was part of the story now as well?

  As if on cue, his car pulled up and Tyler came to the press huddle around James Platt. He met eyes with Sarah a moment and she looked away. She felt embarrassed now, like a schoolgirl caught stealing a glance at her crush as he went through the drills of football practice. What was this, she wondered? Had something for Tyler started in her without her even being aware of it? Surely not; she was still very hurt about Marcus leaving, still raw at it, tears coming in moments when she was caught unaware by the full weight of his absence now in her life. You’re just tired, she told herself; that one always explained away everything.

  There was nothing more Sarah could do at the scene, so she made for her car to leave. She could feel Tyler’s eyes on her as she walked, knew he wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t think it was the right time or place.

  “There’s Tyler Ford’s informant now!” one of the other reporters called out, “FBI Agent Sarah Brightwater!” the man went on. Sarah looked at the throng of reporters in shock but couldn’t single out the one who’d said it at once,

  “Shut up, Herbie,” Tyler said and through his glare Sarah was able to find the face of the man who spoke. She recognized him from the scene of the body find in Harper’s Ferry. She knew his name too from her research on all press coverage of the case.

  “That’s quite an accusation to make, Mr Maxwell,” she said, “And you've made it in front of a lot of witnesses, some of whom no doubt have it on either film or audio recording.”

  “I saw him looking for your attention,” Herbie said, “And up in Harper’s Ferry you even let him past the police line to get close to the body!”

  “If you recall correctly, Mr Maxwell,” Sarah realised now she was talking through gritted teeth and she tried to relax her face, “Mr Ford snuck past the police line under false pretences and I evicted him from the scene once I knew he was there.”

  “Sounds to me, Herbie,” Tyler said, “That you’re just jealous of my upcoming interviews with Stewart Spekler and you’re looking to vent off.” Herbie gave Tyler a spiteful look and bit his lip. Sarah couldn't even guess what he might have been planning to say, but it looked like her part in this little sideshow was over. She started again for her car, and the other reporters who had been watching her started shouting questions and snapping shots as though they had forgotten what they had been doing there. She didn’t turn back and didn’t answer anything at all.

  As she left, it worried her that the other journalists had noticed something going on with Tyler - or at least thought they did. If things were to come to a head, that would just be another nail in the coffin of her career. It didn’t bear thinking about. She was in deep now, but she intended to stay in the game until it was over.

  Chapter 33

  Tyler walked into the police department in Ellicott City and went up to the front desk.

  “Can I help you, sir?” an officer asked.

  “My name is Tyler Ford. I’m a journalist with ‘The Baltimore Echo’ and I’ve recently been mentioned in a blog about all these ‘John the Baptist’ murders, so I’m assuming either you or the FBI will want to talk to me.”

  “Mentioned on a blog?” the officer asked, looking at Tyler like this was a joke.

  “The blog seems to be the murderer’s own work. Surely you’ve heard about it?” Tyler said, sounding superior and enjoying it.

  “Wait here,” the officer said, looking more grave now as he went to an office behind him. About half a minute elapsed and Tyler was thinking it was just as well he wasn’t coming here to admit to murder; he’d have gotten cold feet and run off long ago by now. The officer came back and said,

  “Take a seat, Mr Ford, and someone will be with you soon.”

  Tyler did as he was told; he’d expected this. He’d sit here for a long time, then someone from the station might talk to him, but ultimately they would be waiting for an FBI agent to come down but not wanting to let Tyler think they were beholden to the FBI. How predictable they were really.

  A young lieutenant spoke to Tyler briefly in a small interview room, but he barely asked any questions at all; he just wanted a statement of why Tyler was there and if he was admitting to anything. Tyler wasn’t admitting to anything, not yet anyway. He didn’t say this to the young officer.

  More than three hours later, two men walked in and Tyler could tell at once they were FBI. He didn’t recognize them, but they carried themselves with such sureness and (in here at least) aloofness that he knew what they were. They took Tyler to a larger room, set up a recorder and asked him if he wanted to have a lawyer present. Tyler
didn’t.

  “The killer mentions that he sent you some letters. It’s vague, but we get the impression it was more than one,” the one who’d introduced himself on tape as Special Agent Banks said, getting straight to the meaty part of Tyler’s part in the story. “Do you have anything to say to that?”

  “I do have something to say,” Tyler said, calm and collected. “I didn't get any letters from this guy. That’s why I was caught cold when the names were released.” The other agent, Mathews, wrote something down, and Tyler got the impression he wasn’t going to hear much from him today.

  “So you deny receiving any letter from the killer as stated on the blog?”

  “I do deny that.”

  “Why did he say he did then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were on the scene very fast after Patricia Dorris’s body was found in Harper’s Ferry,” Banks said. “How did you know to be there?”

  “I had been following one of your agents who was working the case. I figured it would be the best way to get a head start on the case and I was right.”

  “Who were you following?”

  “Will they get in trouble if I tell?”

  “No.”

  “Then it was Agent Brightwater. She actually threw me off the scene there.” Mathews wrote something else down.

  “What about the dumping of Elizabeth Barker’s body?”

  “What about it?” Tyler didn’t like Banks’s way of not actually asking questions but expecting answers.

  “How come you were on that scene so fast?”

  “I wasn’t on that scene so fast; I was the one who discovered the body.”

  “Why were you in the area, Mr Ford? It’s a long way from home for you.”

  “You know why I was there. I was covering the bodies found in Whitney State Forest.” Tyler knew all of this was coming and he was ready for it, but he acted like they were getting to him because he knew this was what they wanted to see. They wouldn't believe him if he wasn’t worried. Banks nodded and Matthews scribbled again.

  “You seem very selective with what you’re writing down,” Tyler said, looking annoyed at Matthews. The agent lifted his head slowly, regarded Tyler a moment and then returned to his pad and wrote something else down. Banks looked in a file and then said,

  “You just happened to be taking lunch down the road from where the body was dumped, just at the time the body was dumped no less!” he said with a sound of fake shock in his voice.

  “Yes, I was using that road to get back out to the highway. Those back roads out there are a nightmare to drive on.”

  “That fits in nicely for you, doesn’t it?”

  “Not really, if this is the result of it,” Tyler said.

  Banks tried to trip Tyler up on his timeline of the morning he found the body and also about what he ordered in the coffee shop, but Tyler knew all the facts and couldn't be shaken. He knew this was all they had on him that could tie him to possibly having a letter, and he didn’t think it was enough for a search warrant for his home or office. All the same he’d been prudent enough to remove any evidence of the letters from those places and all of his devices.

  They questioned him for a while about what he knew of the rest of the case, why he wasn't following Agent Brightwater when she went to get Karl Stanver, how he’d known where Mr Ferguson was when they first went looking for him.

  “There sure is a lot of sneaking around in your profession, Mr Ford, isn’t there?”

  “Not as much as in your own,” Tyler smiled back.

  They circled back around to Harper’s Ferry and Patricia Dorris, but they had nothing to challenge him with that mattered. The two agents seemed annoyed as they turned off the recording and started to pack up.

  “What did you guys expect,” Tyler asked in his faux angered voice, “That I was a killer and I was going to come in here and confess to everything?”

  “The interview is over, Mr Ford,” Banks said, “You can leave now.”

  “I’m going,” Tyler said, snatching his jacket angrily from the back of his chair - he liked the theatrics of playing like this. “And we’ll be informing Agent Brightwater to keep an eye out for you. If she decides to go further about the stalking, that’s her call.”

  “Stalking?” Tyler said and laughed. “That’s rich; see you later guys.” and he left the interview room very happy with his performance but only wishing it hadn’t taken so long.

  Later he would use one of his untraceable phones to let Sarah know what he’d done and how it went. No doubt she would be pissed that he had lied to the FBI, but what else could he have done without getting himself in enough shit? He’d be off the case for good, perhaps even doing a little jail time for obstruction of justice. The voice of ‘John the Baptist’ telling him Sarah couldn’t be trusted came to mind. Tyler certainly didn’t feel like Sarah would betray him - it would cost her too much. He did have to wonder at the killer’s agenda, however. What was he getting out of all of this? Why wasn’t the killing enough for him like it had been for so many serial killers in the past?

  What did he have planned for Sarah and him? So far, anyone who was involved with the case was either dead, or facing the possibility of either execution or life in prison. Was one of those things what ‘The Baptist’ planned for him? Tyler didn’t know, but he didn't intend on going out like that either. Not if he had anything to say in the matter.

  Chapter 34

  Sarah was in her office, a cold coffee on the desk beside an uneaten Mars bar. She was tired and cranky and didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. On the floor by her feet was a profile of ‘John the Baptist’ ripped in two. Sarah, not a huge fan of these profiles in the first place, was working on a new one. After reading many reports of laymen or civilians doing as well as FBI specialists on known killer profiles, she found it hard to put any great faith in them, even if it was she who wrote it.

  What Sarah did find useful about writing profiles, and why she was doing this right now, was to get herself completely immersed in the case and try to see things from the killer's perspective. Some of her best ideas had come to her while doing this, and she was holding out hope that lightning was going to strike again now. There had to be something they were missing, something that would break open everything and set them on the right path. But what?

  Getting into this zone today, however, was proving harder than usual. Nagging doubts kept coming to her that she was responsible for the death of Ferguson. Had he been involved at all before she went to talk to him at the soup kitchen? She didn’t know. ‘John the Baptist’ could have been in that room watching her the whole time and she would never have known it. He was clearly very good at watching everything.

  Sarah shook her head; she knew she shouldn’t be thinking like this. It would get her nowhere and make catching the killer all the more difficult. Drawing in some deep breaths, Sarah told herself to think like the killer. On the third breath something came to her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Picking up her phone, Sarah dialled Tyler’s number. She thought it was just about to go to voicemail when he answered,

  “Yeah?”

  “Tyler, it’s me, Sarah Brightwater,” she didn’t know why she’d said her full name. “I want you to ask Spekler something when you see him.”

  “Oh, OK, what?” Tyler asked.

  “I want you to ask him for his insight on the ‘John the Baptist’ murders. See what he thinks is going on.”

  “Do you want me to tell him this is from the FBI?” Sarah thought about this for a moment but then decided against it,

  “No, maybe it’s better if he thinks he’s giving some expert commentary to the press for all the public to see how smart he is.”

  “I’ll ask, but I don’t know if he'll be happy about it,” Tyler said. “I think the whole point of this thing from his side is that it’s all about him. He won’t want another killer taking up his airtime.”

  “Maybe,” Sarah said, “But maybe not. Try
selling him as being a hero or being smarter than the FBI, anything to flatter his vanity.”

  “OK,” Tyler said, “By the way, I hadn't gotten to message you yet, but I was interviewed by two FBI Agents here in Ellicott City this morning.”

  “Really?” Sarah hadn’t heard this. Didn’t know they’d already been looking for him.

  “I turned myself into the police station about the blog and they called down the FBI. They asked me questions for a few hours and then let me go. They didn’t have anything on me so that’s that over and done with.”

  “I see,” Sarah said. She knew what he was telling her, that he’d lied to the Agents about the very existence of the letters, but she also knew he’d done her a massive favour in doing this. The shit would really hit the fan now if all of it came out. “Well, that’s good for you,” she said, all of a sudden wondering if her phone was being tapped. Tyler had spoken without saying anything incriminating and she wondered if he had the same idea. She would have to stop communicating with him on her own phone. Where did he get his stash of phones for this purpose?

  “So, if you could ask Spekler those questions, that would be great,” she said.

  “I’ll let you know what he says,” Tyler said, “Bye.”

  After hanging up, Sarah looked at her phone a moment. What grounds would they have to monitor her calls? None that she could think of but then, just because someone might be monitoring her phone, it didn’t mean it had to be either sanctioned or legal.

  “You’re getting paranoid!” she said, slapping the sides of her face with her palms and then yawning. “Tired and paranoid.” She went back to her attempted profile.

  Later that evening, there was some good news at last from Charlottesville; Malick had woken up! He wasn’t talking yet and was very groggy, but according to Tara there hadn’t been a moment on waking that he didn’t know who she was. He had even managed to smile at her.