Farewell to Goodbye Read online

  Farewell to Goodbye

  By

  Penny Childs

  Original cover art by: Ginger Yeomans

  One

  She had escaped fate the first time. Unacceptable. An artist had been deprived the pleasure of seeing his hard work come to fruition. Well, not for much longer. Tonight, the artist’s work would be completed.

  The killer watched as Beth Montgomery climbed out of her car and went up the walk to her average little house in the average little suburb she lived in. As he looked around he could not help but notice all of the houses looked alike. Drab little single family homes lined the street, so close together the inhabitants could probably converse with each other through an open window. Who needed a phone here? Maybe he would be doing her a favor by killing her. A place like this; you existed, you didn’t live.

  Four years ago in San Diego she had narrowly escaped the fate another killer had meticulously planned for her. Moving here to Indiana was a way in which she had tried to cleanse herself of her frightening past. The killer planned to show her and the rest of the world just how wrong she was in thinking distance equaled safety.

  Beth unlocked her front door and stepped into her house, feeling a chill pass over her. She shook it off as she closed the door. Getting home after dark was something she tried to avoid most times because it still spooked her. Things lurked in the shadows. Small noises seemed louder. Eyes followed her. It had been years since she had been attacked and it was rarely at the forefront of her mind. Tonight though, memories assailed her. The way she’d been grabbed and shoved into the trunk of the car. Her fear had been so intense she had nearly peed her pants. She pushed the memories away with a frown and walked into her small kitchen, intent on starting something for dinner.

  Work, as usual, had stunk. Her boss was a jerk and most of her coworkers were lazy and sullen. She poured herself a glass of white wine, hoping it would get her mind off her past and some of her unfortunate present. Being the survivor of a brutal attack had at first given her a sense of urgency in her life. She took everything she could from it and enjoyed every day to its fullest. Lately, though, things just seemed to be going downhill. Life was just a boring series of events she had to wade her way through. She had no real friends to speak of. No love interests. Hell, she had no love prospects, for that matter. She tried to talk herself out of her funk by reminding herself that she was lucky to be alive. But even those little pep talks couldn’t revive her anymore.

  Starting the oven to preheat, she pulled a chicken pot pie out of the freezer. She didn’t need to look at the box for directions. She wasn’t much of a cook, so meals like this one were a staple.

  Now she looked around, confused. “Slinky?” she called out. She hadn’t thought of it until now, but her cat was not rubbing up against her, demanding attention. The cat was one of the bright spots she always looked forward to on a dreary day. “Slinky?”

  Shaking her head, she walked through her sparsely furnished living room toward the back of the house. She hadn’t thought he’d gotten out this morning, but he must have slipped out as she left for work. If that were the case he would be waiting by the back sliding glass door. Coming to the slider, she did not see him in his usual spot. “Damnit,” she muttered, troubled. She always worried about him getting hit by a car. Some of the kids that lived in the neighborhood or visited drove way too fast for her liking.

  Sliding the door open, she stepped out onto the deck and called him again. Nothing. She called again, a little louder. Then she heard it, a meow came from the small storage shed at the edge of her small yard. Frowning, she set her glass of wine down on the deck railing and headed toward the shed. She heard him meow again and shook her head. “How the hell did you get in there?” she asked as she arrived at the building and opened the door.

  The cat raced out between her legs with a hiss, as though his tail were on fire.

  “Geeze, you’re welcome,” she said sarcastically. She stuck her head in the dark shed, wondering how the cat had gotten in there in the first place.

  When she felt the hand on her back and the hard shove, she tried to scream, but as she fell forward into the shed a strong hand clamped over her mouth. An arm banded around her middle so tightly it nearly stole the breath from her. The door closed and she could hear someone laughing as a rag was shoved into her mouth and tape was wrapped around her head. Next the tape was wrapped around her wrists as she struggled against the hand that held them together.

  When she began to panic and flail, a hard hand slapped her across the face once, twice.

  “Keep it up, bitch. I love bringing down the punishment. It’s my favorite part.”

  She felt his breath on her face and smelled Juicy Fruit gum. She wished she could see through the darkness. No. She was glad she couldn’t see him. Maybe if she didn’t see him he would just do whatever it was he wanted to do and leave her alive.

  “This time, nobody is going to come to the rescue,” he said.

  She felt him shove something over her nose and when she breathed in she gagged.

  “This time you’re all mine.”

  She heard it when he said it; again. This time. She would have been driven into another panic if she had not passed out first.

  Sheriff Melanie Rhodes sat at the computer behind her desk, absently massaging the center of her forehead with two fingers. A sharp, consistent pain dwelled there.

  She was looking at the same reports she had looked at over and over again. She still came to the same conclusion, no matter how many different ways she looked at the same information. She had a serial killer here in her town. But he wasn’t just any ordinary serial killer. His victims appeared to be chosen with the utmost care and for a purpose that was new and terrifying.

  She got up and paced around her desk. She didn’t want this to be true, but she couldn’t deny it, even with just two deaths. The pattern was unmistakable. She reached up and touched the scar on her neck. Her constant reminder. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered quietly. This couldn’t be happening. “I came here to get away from this crap, not wallow in it,” she told the four walls. Her first instinct was to run like hell, something she knew she would not, and could not, do.

  Sitting back down behind her desk, she reached for the phone, then stopped with her hand on it, thinking. Serial Killer. Series. As in multiple. Two does not qualify as multiple to the powers that be. The mayor would have her badge if she created a serial killer panic based on two similar killings. She took her hand off the phone, swearing. She could not claim to have a serial killer as yet. Certain criteria had to be met. The only way that criteria would be met was with another killing. Three is multiple. That thought put a scowl on her face. That was another reason she had left. Waiting around for someone to be killed so you could do your job was just downright morbid.

  She was looking at a crime scene photo of the last victim, Donna Berkley, when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in Craig,” she called, not looking up at the door as he entered.

  Her senior deputy, Craig Nell, entered her office. “I still don’t know how the hell you do that,” he said, shaking his head in puzzlement.

  “Do what?” she asked, closing out the report and looking up at him.

  “Know who’s at the door all the time.”

  Mel blinked. “Lucky guess,” she said with a smile. She was mentally kicking herself in the ass though. That had slipped. She needed to watch it and remain closed, guarded. Especially now. “What do you need, Craig?”

  He sat down in the visitor chair and took a good look at her. She looked pale and tired. She also looked distracted and edgy. He wanted to ask her what was bothering her. He’d noticed her rubbing at that scar on her neck a lot in the last week or so. If
she wasn’t bothering at that one, it was the ones on her left arm. He’d been working for her for five years and knew she only did that when something had her extremely agitated. “I just remembered that you were waiting on some research data and I was wondering if it had come in or not.”

  It was more than that and she knew it, she could tell by the look in his eyes. He was worried about her. “I did get it.”

  “And?” he asked expectantly.

  She hesitated a second. “Craig, you have to promise not to breathe a word of this outside this office.”

  It was something big. He promised.

  “She was killed exactly how Joshua Lucia intended to kill her six years ago. Right down to the bite marks on her legs.”

  Craig winced. He had not seen any bite marks on her legs. Evidently, the coroner had. She had been dressed and posed when she had been discovered leaning against a tree in the woods. “So we’ve got two dead girls now that had been attacked in the past by known serial killers?” Craig asked warily. He knew what this meant too.

  Mel nodded and rubbed her forehead again. She had a monster headache. She knew the origin of it and knew there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She was going to have to live with it. There were worse things than a headache. Far worse things.

  “Boss, I might be out of line here, but you should go home and get some sleep. You’ve been putting in a lot of hours these last couple of weeks.”

  She knew he was right. She also knew that there wasn’t anything else she could do here tonight. If the killer did have another victim, she or he would likely be abducted in a different state anyway, then brought here to be killed and left to find.

  “If you’re thinking that we have a serial killer bringing people here to kill, what are you going to do?” Craig asked.

  “We’re going to need to call the feds, Craig. These killings cross state lines. Aside from that, they’re being kidnapped, which is a federal crime. Local here and local where the girls came from isn’t going to cut it anymore. We need someone who has the jurisdiction to bridge the gap.” She did not want to call the FBI. She sighed. She could not wait for a third killing, no matter what the mayor would say about it. “I’ll give them a call first thing in the morning.” She might not be able to prove serial killings, but the state line thing alone should get their attention.

  Craig made a face. He had never worked with federal agents, but he had heard enough about them from some of the state cops he knew.

  Mel saw the look on his face and smiled at him. “Come on now, Craig, remember where I came from.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Sometimes he forgot that she used to be FBI.

  Two

  Mel rose from her crouch, rubbing the bridge of her nose and looking to the sky as though someone up there could offer the help she needed. Though spring had finally decided to arrive, the morning was chilly. She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and let out a long sigh, watching her breath puff out in front of her.

  “You okay, boss?” Craig watched her carefully.

  “Yeah, Craig, I’m just peachy. I’m going to have to call the mayor today and tell him we do, in fact, have a serial killer on the loose.” She had been planning on making two calls today anyway. One to the FBI and one to the mayor. She had not, however, been planning to make the calls under this circumstance. She tilted her head from side to side to try and work out some of the stiffness in her neck. The last thing she had expected was to get a call at four-thirty in the morning telling her that a fisherman had found a woman’s body near his favorite fishing hole. So, she had her series now, she was sure. Wonderful.

  Craig’s eyes widened. “You think this is connected to the other two?”

  “I don’t recognize her, do you?” Mel looked back down at the obviously strangled woman. Purple, green and black ligature marks encircled her slender neck.

  “No,” he answered at length. He watched as Mel absently began stroking the long scar that ran from her right earlobe to her collar bone. He had often wondered about the origin of that scar, as well as the ones on her left arm but had never got up the nerve to ask her about them. Her reaction to him just looking at them told him it was an off limits topic of conversation.

  A car pulled up and stopped behind the cruiser Craig and Mel had arrived in. A tall, lanky man climbed out, pulled a bag out of the back and approached them. “Mel, I’d ask how you’re doing today, but I already know the answer.” The medical examiner, Nate Ford, stopped in front of Mel, a tight smile on his face. “What do you think?”

  “I think that she’s number three,” she said wearily. “I also think I have some calls to make, so I’ll let you do your thing.”

  Nate gave her a nod and moved off to the body.

  “Craig, do me a favor and call the state police and get a crime scene team out here.”

  Pulling out his cell phone, Craig made his call.

  Mel walked to the edge of the small lake they were near and stared across it for a while before she pulled her own phone from its clip. Accessing her e-mail, she sent the information she had so far to the person she was preparing to call. With that task accomplished, she dialed his direct line. When the answer came, she said quietly, “Bill, good morning.”

  “Mel?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She caught herself before calling him sir. Something about his deep, rich voice seemed to beg it. A few years of habit didn’t hurt either.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled a little sadly. “I know I don’t call that often, but does something have to be wrong?”

  “Something is, I can tell by the sound of your voice. Are you okay?” He still blamed himself for what had happened to her. The evidence was in the softness of his tone.

  “I’m fine, Bill. I seem to have something of a situation here. I just sent some information your way and was wondering if you would take a look at it for me.” She heard him clicking on his computer for a moment.

  “Okay, you have two dead women. Both from different states. They were kidnapped from their home towns, brought to your town, killed and dumped. Two weeks apart, give or take a day. Aside from that, no similarities in the way they were killed?”

  “Not in the way they were killed, no.”

  “But something else ties them together. Motive?”

  “That could be what ties them together.” Rubbing her scar again, she said, “The first two managed to survive being abducted by a serial killer in the past.” She paused to let him absorb what she’d told him, then added, “I just got another body this morning.”

  Bill was quiet for several moments. “And you think that number three shares a common past.”

  “What are the chances of another woman showing up dead two weeks after the last one?”

  “In the hick town you live in, slim to none unless it’s connected. Do me a favor and send me pictures of number three right after we get off the phone and I’ll pick someone’s brain here.”

  She didn’t ask whose brain he was going to pick. She didn’t want to think about him, much less talk about him. Initiating this call may have done just that though. “Bill, this may be over my head. I just don’t think we have the resources to deal with something like this. And… state lines have been crossed. Kidnappings have occurred. With the first two I decided to let the locals in the towns the girls were taken from handle that aspect of it. But that’s not an option anymore.” She looked back across the lake again. The surface was flat as glass, not a breeze stirred.

  “Are you okay? I mean you, personally. This can’t be easy.”

  “I’m fine, Bill. I just don’t know that I’m qualified to do this on my own. I have to call the mayor after I get off the phone with you and tell him what I suspect. I’d like to be able to tell him you’ll send someone up to support us.”

  Without hesitation, Bill said, “I can. How’s tonight?”

  “That’ll work.” She wanted to ask him not to send a certain someone, but didn’t. He knew how she
felt about him and she didn’t think Bill would risk sending him.

  “How many people do you think have survived being grabbed by a serial killer?”

  Trevor Giles looked up from his computer to his supervisor, William Foley. “Excuse me?” he asked, brows knit together in confusion.

  “I want you to drop whatever you’re working on right now. I have something much more important.” Bill, as he was known to almost everyone, sat down in the vacant chair at Trevor’s desk.

  In truth, Trevor wasn’t working on anything much. A couple bank robberies. It was supposed to be a break for him. The company shrink had decided that the guys in the violent crimes units should rotate out on a regular basis to keep them somewhat sane. Trevor hated it. And if Bill was willing to risk the doc’s wrath by pulling him off his rotation, it must be something hot. He could use something to really sink his teeth into. “What’s up, Bill?”

  “We have a serial killer with a twist.”

  Trevor grimaced. “They’re all twisted.”

  “I know, but this guy is different from what we’ve seen before. At least in the way he chooses his victims. Seems he’s decided to go after survivors of previous serial killers’ attempts.”

  Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “So, how many survivors are there?” he asked, wondering if Bill had the answer to the question he had asked.

  Bill shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t been able to come up with a number yet, but I’m sure you will. The connection was just made a few hours ago. We have three victims so far, that we know of. Two of them were abducted from out of state. I have someone working on getting an ID on number three.”

  Now a frown crossed Trevor’s features. “If he moves around a lot, he’s going to be hard as hell to find. There have to be hundreds, if not more, people that have survived being attacked by a serial killer.”

  “I don’t want to hear why you don’t think you’ll be able to do this, Trevor. I just want you to do it.”