Shadow of Perception (49 page)

In an instant, the image of a handsome, athletic, blonde-haired, blue-eyed kid jumped into her mind. Although Josh Conway was the polar opposite to her redheaded, brown-eyed, lanky, bookworm of a brother, the two boys had become close friends, and both were pledging the Eta Tau Zeta fraternity. “Yeah, I know Josh. What about him?”

“According to the dormitory residential assistant, both Sean and Josh were last seen leaving their dorm room Saturday evening. They were supposed to meet a few others at the library for a study session. Neither showed.”

“Is Josh…?”

“We have no idea of his whereabouts.”

And her brother had been beaten and left for dead.

Welcome to Hell Week.

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as a grisly thought came to mind. “Sheriff, these missing persons your town has seen over the years…were any of them students at Wexman University?”

“Not all, but most of them. Nine to be exact. With Josh Conway’s disappearance…we’re now up to ten.”

Ten?
“The students, were any of them pledging a fraternity or sorority?”

“Fraternities. They were all male.”

Rachel tightened her grip on the cell phone. “When? Was there a specific time of year when these boys went missing?”

“January.”

“And their bodies?”

“They’ve never been found.”

While she wasn’t a criminalist like some members of CORE’s team, her years spent with Army Intelligence, along with her hacking skills, had prepared her for the job and had made her valuable to Ian Scott, the owner of the agency. During her tenure, she’d been involved in some seriously twisted cases. Her mind worked quick and zeroed in on one thing.
 

“You have a serial killer in Bola.”

“That’s right, Miss Davis. Welcome to Hell Week. We have only seven days to find Josh Conway.”

*

With a yawn and a stretch, he climbed out of bed and toed on his slippers. After shrugging into his robe, like a kid on Christmas, he raced down the staircase and into the kitchen. Eagerness and excitement hummed through his veins. Better than Christmas or a birthday or any other holiday, today marked a special day, a special beginning. The time of year he anticipated the most.
 

Hell Week.
 

As the coffee brewed, the strong, rich aroma of hazelnut and cinnamon wafted throughout the kitchen. While he waited for that first delicious cup, he did a mental checklist of today’s schedule. Mondays were always a full workday, filled with meetings and preparations for the upcoming week. Pity. He’d love to play hooky today. He’d love to play with the pledge in his basement.

The pledge would have to wait until this evening. Work came first. Deviating from his daily routine was not an option. Besides, he knew in his heart, now, this moment wasn’t the right time. In the past, he’d made mistakes with his pledges. In his overzealousness, he’d rushed things, which had made for some…deadly results. He couldn’t rush anything with the new pledge. Twenty years ago, what had begun as therapy had now become legend.
He
had become legendary. No. There would be no rushing, no overzealousness. No more mistakes.
 

After what Junior had done on Saturday, there had better not be any more mistakes. He poured coffee into the mug, then blew on the liquid before taking a sip. Although still angry over Junior’s screw up, he couldn’t stay mad at his only child. Hell Week would become Junior’s legacy. The gifts of dominance, control, power…definitely the kind of inheritance that keeps on giving.And he wanted his child to feel, to truly understand, what it is to have power over another human being. Over their pledge.

Although Junior had been born a disappointment, he never wanted his own flesh and blood to experience what he had twenty-five years ago. The powerlessness, the helplessness, the utter degradation at the hands of monsters. While it had taken him years to battle the nightmares that still haunted him, he’d made his mark on the world. Well, at least in Bola, Michigan.
 

Chuckling, he shrugged and looked out the kitchen window. He glanced at the trees in his backyard, now naked save for the clumps of icy snow resting on their branches, then to the path that led to the Menominee River. When he’d been a child, that path had terrified him. His parents had warned him never to walk through the forest alone, to never go near the river, or bad things will happen. Too true, he chuckled again, then took another sip of his coffee.
 

He no longer knew what it was like to be afraid. The Townies knew. They knew and they feared him.
 

Just like his parents had done, the town folk of Bola had spun terrifying stories to their children in order to keep them from venturing too far into the dense forests surrounding Bola. The university students, most of them spoiled, coddled, little shitheads, didn’t buy into the Townies fears and beliefs. They’d considered him a myth, akin to the celebrated Bigfoot many of the ignorant Townies had claimed to have seen roaming the area.
 

Fools.

He was no myth. But he should be feared. Every male student at the university should agonize and wonder.
 

Will he come for me this year?

While he’d bet there were a few young men who worried, they wouldn’t have to concern themselves any longer. He’d taken his pledge. By noon today, word of the boy’s disappearance would reach every corner of the campus and county. And so it would begin.
 

Seven days of torture.
 

Seven days of hell.

The front door opened, sending in a loud gust of wind, then quickly shut.

“Junior?” he called as he left the kitchen and moved down the hallway into the foyer. He stopped, leaned against the stair rails and eyed his favorite mistake. “What have you learned?”

 
“They found Sean Davis late last night. He’s recovering at Dixon Medical Center. Depending on the severity of the concussion, he’ll likely be released in a few days.”

“And the note?”

“Sheriff Tyler didn’t mention it, but it’s obvious he found it. Around four this morning, he questioned all the boys at the Eta Tau Zeta house, as well as the RA and some of the kids living at the dorm.”

He sipped his coffee, then said, “I wonder if our dedicated sheriff has tried to contact his family.”

“Davis’?”

Waving his hand, he shook his head. “I don’t care about that whiney, little skid mark. Idiot, I’m referring to our pledge.”
   

“Yes, sir.” Junior looked to the floor. “Sorry. I don’t know. As you’re aware, the university administration offices open at eight. I wouldn’t be surprised if they receive a call from the sheriff then. Does he need Josh’s parents to file a missing person report?”

The mug, filled with his delicious coffee, smashed and splattered on the tile. In an instant he had Junior by the throat and up against the door. “
Pledge
,” he said, and tightened his grip. “
That
is his new name.
That
is what you will call him. Do you understand?”

Junior nodded, and whispered, “Yes, sir.”

He reined in his anger and loosened his hold. “Josh Conway is dead, figuratively speaking of course,” he began, calmer now, and stepped over the mess on the floor.

“Yes, of course.”

Turning his back, he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen for a new cup of coffee, but stopped at the threshold. “Clean up the mess you caused and meet me in the basement.”

“I thought we wouldn’t begin with the pledge until this evening.”

“You’re right, we won’t. But he must be given a taste of what’s to come.”

*

Owen Malcolm stifled a yawn and waited for Ian Scott, his boss and founder of CORE, to end his phone conversation. He glanced around Ian’s luxurious, yet comfortable office, particularly at the large, leather sofa near the fireplace, and ached for a nap. Not about to curl up on his boss’ sofa, he leaned into the plush office chair, instead.

The past couple months of travelling might have finally caught up with him. November, there had been California and Las Vegas. December had him in San Antonio for a few weeks, then from there he’d flown to Virginia to spend the holidays with his family.
 

While he’d loved visiting his parents, sisters and nieces and nephews, he couldn’t count the trip as a vacation. If he hadn’t been working odd jobs around the house for his mom and dad, his sisters had been ushering him, and his nieces and nephews, to the obnoxiously loud, germ and kid infested Play World. How many times can a kid go on the same humungous, inflatable slide without growing sick of it? Infinity, he assumed, because his sisters’ kids never stopped until they’d left, then had begged to go back the next day.

He’d take the raucous Play World over this last assignment, though. While Miami in January had its perks, beautiful, warm beaches, wild nightlife, and even wilder women, he didn’t have the chance to enjoy any of it. Instead, he’d spent three weeks helping the Miami-Dade police track down the man who’d been robbing, raping, then murdering elderly women. He’d found the guy. But the prick had put a bullet into his head before the police could arrest him. The suicide might not give the victims’ families total closure, but it had made his part in the investigation easier. Now he wouldn’t have to travel back to Florida for a long, drawn-out trial.
 

He looked out Ian’s office window. Nothing but gray sky. Maybe a long, drawn-out trial in Miami wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. Chicago plus January equaled snow and freezing temperatures.

Ian hung up the phone. “How was Florida?” he asked.

Owen straightened. “I didn’t get much of a chance to work on my tan,” he said, then leaned forward and handed Ian the case file.

As he glanced through the paperwork, Ian asked, “When did you get back?”

He looked at the clock. “My flight got in about an hour ago. I haven’t even been to my condo yet.”

Arching his black brows, Ian leaned into his chair and shrugged. “Go home then.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

Ian shook his head and offered him a slight smile. “I know you didn’t.”

“Then why are you sending me home without giving me my next assignment?” In the six years he’d worked for Ian, other than his annual holiday trip to see the family and the occasional vacation, he’d never ended a case without being handed another.

And he needed another.

When he visited his folks, they kept him too busy to think. When he took a vacation, he always made sure they had been well-scheduled trips, packed with a full itinerary. Downtime, lounging on the beach or poolside, didn’t work for him. If he stopped moving, his mind would go into overdrive. Bringing up the past. His mistakes. His regrets.

Ian moved, as if to run his hand through his salt and pepper hair, then instead, scratched the back of his head. “I don’t have anything for you.”

During his time with CORE, he’d only seen one member of the team let go. And it had started with, “I don’t have anything for you.”

Flashbacks from his days with the U.S. Secret Service suddenly shifted through his head. The cover-ups. The bullshit. The lies and dismissal.

He’d been loyal to Ian because the man had helped him salvage his career. Although his boss could be manipulative, it was done with purpose. Not as blunt as he’d like, Ian was still an excellent employer. He didn’t want to lose his job with CORE. Sure, with his background, he could find another position, with another private agency, but he had no interest in working elsewhere. CORE had become his life. He liked his fellow agents, his hefty salary, the bonuses and the benefits.
 

“Is this the start of your firing process?”

Ian’s bark of laughter filled the office. “God, no. Why in the hell would I fire you? I can work you like a dog, and you never complain.
I
have no complaints.” He grew serious, then said, “You’ve been working cases back-to-back, and I don’t want you to burnout. I thought you could use a week to regroup. Paid, of course.”

Most people would have jumped at the opportunity of paid time off. And while he appreciated Ian’s intentions, he didn’t want a break. He’d rather work. The assignments kept his mind busy, his thoughts focused.
 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”

Ian eyed him, then nodded. “If you change your mind, just let me know. Meanwhile, I have an interesting cold case that needs solving.” He pulled a file from the drawer and set it on the desk.

Owen liked cold cases, especially the older ones where modern day technology hadn’t quite been invented. They were like puzzles. He enjoyed sifting through old paperwork, crime scene photos, and evidence. Seeing what fit and what didn’t, then solving what no one else had been able.
 

 
A rap at the door caught his attention. As he turned, Rachel burst into the room. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw him, then looked to Ian.

“Sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I…” She looked away, stared out the window, then reached for the pencil tucked behind her ear.