Rainey Nights Part 1

RAINEY NIGHTS.

R. E. Bradshaw.

From the Author.

I am writing this on the one year anniversary of uploading my first novel. I was finally pushed into this dream by the people around me who were tired of being guinea pigs and said, "Publis.h.!.+" So, I did and what an amazing ride it has been. I owe a huge thank you to many people, but most important are the readers. Thank you for giving me a shot at a dream. Your constant encouragement keeps me at the keyboard.

Lynne, Dawn, Linda, Henriette, Terry you ladies simply rock!

Kaycee, you are a savior. I am lucky to have such a patient editor.

Gayl, what can I say? You were a blessing sent from above. Thank you for everything.

My four legged editorial team, I thank you for hours of company and for listening to me read. More treats are coming. Yes, the chicken jerky kind. (The real Freddie Krueger, the model for Rainey's bobbed-tail black cat, lives at my house and is a constant source of entertainment and consternation.) Mom and Dad, thanks for being there. Like the Sugarland song says, "Remember me in ribbons and curls, I still love you more than anything in the world, Love, your baby girl."

Jon, you're the best son ever. Kendra, you are the best daughter-in-law ever.

Deb, as always you are my inspiration. Thanks for the gallons of coffee, bringing me food when I was too wrapped up in the story to remember to eat, sleeping alone for nights on end while I wrote into the wee hours of the morning, and not minding when I slept away the next day. Thank you for all the little things that mean so much. You are the reason I believe in love at first sight.

About the book...

RAINEY NIGHTS is the second novel in the Rainey Bell Thriller series. This a stand alone book, but if you want more background on former FBI Behavioral a.n.a.lyst Rainey Bell, read RAINEY DAYS to see how the series began.

In RAINEY NIGHTS, the reader is given a glimpse into Special Agent Rainey Bell's former life, where she is unaffected by the tragedies that later derailed her career and changed her future, (detailed in RAINEY DAYS.) This glimpse into her past gives perspective to the challenges Rainey faces, starting a new life with Katie Meyers. This is not a coming out story, it is a coming to terms story. At the beginning of any relations.h.i.+p, there are adjustments and compromises to be made. In Rainey's case, her past shapes her decisions and often complicates the situation. It may end up getting them both killed.

Above all, RAINEY NIGHTS is a thriller. It is not a romance, although Rainey and Katie's relations.h.i.+p provides the backdrop for the story. This book is not for the squeamish or weak of heart. Fair warning: RAINEY NIGHTS contains violence of a s.e.xual nature. For those of you that choose to proceed, do so with the doors and windows locked and the lights on all over the house. As one reviewer said, "Don't a.s.sume you know how this story is going to end."

PART I.

"No one who, like me, conjures up the most evil of those half-tamed demons that inhabit the human breast, and seeks to wrestle with them, can expect to come through the struggle unscathed."

~Sigmund Freud.

Chapter one.

Sat.u.r.day, May 5th, four years ago.

Botetourt County, Virginia.

Tears mingled with the cold water dripping from her body. The drops fell to the ground, streamed down the hill, and slid off the embankment just a few miles south of Iron Gate, Virginia. The James River headwaters swirled by, carrying the tears away on a meandering journey across the Commonwealth to the Chesapeake Bay, where they would slip into the Atlantic and out to sea. In the deep-green valley created by the Blue Ridge Mountains on the east and the Appalachian Mountains on the west, a mother began to worry. The two ancient mountain ranges nearly touched in Botetourt County, separated only by the little town of Buchanan and the James River. This lush land was an ideal place to be born and, as it turned out, a very lonely place to die.

Crystal Lynn Granger, like the James River, was born in these majestic highlands. She grew to be a dark haired beauty with big brown, soulful eyes. A long legged, gifted athlete, Crystal was a two-sport star, playing basketball and tennis. She was also very popular among her peers, voted Cla.s.s President all four years of high school. She would graduate Valedictorian of her cla.s.s in a month and head off to college in the fall. Crystal Lynn was destined to follow the James River out of the valley and on to greater things.

Raised by G.o.d-fearing country folks, Crystal was very active in the youth ministry at her church. Jesus played a big part in her life. It was to Him that she prayed, as she looked up into the deep black night at the stars twinkling through the treetops. The waning moonlight could not erase the surrounding darkness. Though Crystal could not see down the embankment, she knew the James River gurgled below her. Her sense of sight was useless, but her hearing was keen. What she heard made her pray even harder. She did not pray for herself. She prayed for the family she was about to leave behind. She prayed that G.o.d would help her devastated parents and friends, and see them through the grieving. Crystal closed her eyes and prayed her Lord would end her suffering soon.

From behind, Crystal heard the snapping of twigs, as he moved closer. Some time ago, he had slipped into the blackness, leaving her tied to a tree. She wasn't sure how long ago he left. Time had no meaning, now. Crystal knew he was coming back for her. He told her he would, right after he taped her hands into praying position, tied a rope around her neck, and fastened her to the tree on her knees. His final act was the duct tape on her forehead that held her head up, so she was forced to look at him, while he ranted and raved in front of her, and then he was gone.

Crystal was glad to be left tied there. At least he wasn't hitting her anymore. He beat her black and blue, before viciously raping and sodomizing her for the last two hours. The more she fought him, the more he seemed to enjoy it. Finally, she submitted to stop the beating. After the s.e.xual a.s.sault ended, he tied a rope around her neck, and threw her in the river. She repeatedly lost her footing on the slick river rocks and nearly drowned. Laughing, he pulled her up, only to let the rope go slack so she would fall again. She screamed when she had the breath, but no one could hear her over the rus.h.i.+ng rapids this far away from the road. At least the freezing water had eased some of the pain in her brutalized body. Crystal was sure, however, that he was not done with her. She knew he was going to kill her. She knew who he was, or at least she thought she knew the blond haired young man with the kind blue eyes and handsome smile.

Crystal found him waiting by her car when she finished work. Surprised and flattered that he came to see her, she felt her face blush with excitement. His invitation for a quick cup of coffee was thrilling. She understood when he told her not to tell anyone, because the other girls would be jealous, and she wouldn't want that either. Crystal didn't call home, because her strict parents would not let her go out with a boy they had not met. It was just coffee. "No harm, no foul," she thought.

He promised to have her back in time to make her curfew. He already had the coffee, prepared just as she liked it, waiting in his truck. He drove to a place where they could sit and watch the river. Crystal was not nervous or apprehensive about being alone with him, because of what he said he stood for. In fact, she felt safer with him than some of the boys her parents vetted. He was so handsome and charming, he seemed a dream come true, the perfect boy. When he leaned over and kissed her sweetly her heart fluttered, but as she returned his kiss, everything changed.

The light from his small battery operated lantern illuminated the area in front of the tree again. Through eyes that were nothing but slits from the swelling, Crystal saw his feet first before he raised the lantern, bringing his full body into view. He was completely naked. During the earlier a.s.sault, she closed her eyes, but she knew he didn't use part of his body to rape her. He had not removed his clothes. Now, she could see him standing before her with his p.e.n.i.s in full view. She had only seen a nude man in a picture a friend showed her. She wasn't sure, but something didn't look right. He saw where she was looking and the look in his eyes sent lightning bolts of terror through her body. Shaking uncontrollably, Crystal searched for some place to take her mind, some place to find peace, so she wouldn't be there, alone, with him. She wasn't sure where the inspiration came from, but she began to sing softly. Through b.l.o.o.d.y, split lips the words came out in a whisper and they stopped him in his tracks.

"Jesus loves me, this I know..."

He froze only for a second and then a wicked smile crept across his face. The last thing she saw was that evil sneer and the flash of light reflected from the thin blade slicing through the air. She felt nothing, as her soul and body separated with the first swing of the sword, nor did she feel the second slash disembowel her. Crystal Lynn Granger's blood flowed down the embankment and into the James River. Her soul followed the flow of the river out of Botetourt County for what she had always been told and knew in her heart was a better place.

Chapter two.

Thursday, May 10, five days later.

Southeast of Eagle Rock Gorge, the James River formed a small island. On the east embankment facing the island, the dark trail of dried blood was still visible five days after the murder. b.l.o.o.d.y bare footprints ran up and down the hill, forming a macabre ch.o.r.eography along the crimson trail. Rainey's eyes followed the stains to the rapidly moving water below and then back up to the naked, headless body attached to the tree. The hands were still duct taped together in prayer. Rainey pulled on the latex gloves she had been squeezing tightly in each fist, trying to distance herself from the pain and horror the victim experienced. She turned from the rotting smell of the corpse and took a deep cleansing breath, before she walked back up the hill to join the others by the tree.

FBI Supervisory Special Agent, Danny McNally, his broad muscular shoulders in stark contrast to the wiry mountain men, towered over the two local detectives. His red wavy hair was wildly out of control. He had not tried to tame it since they ran out from under the helicopter blades, jumped into a waiting SUV, and rushed to the crime scene. Rainey's experiences with helicopter blades and the thick ma.s.s on her head were not good ones. Before leaving this morning, she captured her unruly chestnut locks in a ponytail that stuck out the back of her FBI baseball cap.

Rainey and Danny were here to try to make sense of a series of brutal murders along US 220, from the Blue Ridge Mountains down through the Piedmont area of North Carolina. They left the National Center for the a.n.a.lysis of Violent Crime, or NCAVC, on the campus of the FBI Academy, just after seven a.m. Using the twenty minutes of flying time to go over the files prepared by the Behavioral a.n.a.lysis Unit, of which they were both members, Danny and Rainey were now a.n.a.lyzing the most recent crime scene. The BAU2, as it was known, was tasked with understanding evil the average person could never fathom. Her unit concentrated on violent criminal acts like serial murders, ma.s.s murders, spree killers, unusual murders of all types, along with s.e.xual a.s.saults and kidnappings targeting adults. The nine murders tied to this particular unknown subject or UNSUB certainly met the criteria of violent and unusual.

Danny turned to Rainey, as she approached, and made the introductions. "Detectives Blaine and Martin, this is SSA Rainey Bell."

Rainey ignored the hands extended toward her. She held up her gloved hands to show the officers she didn't want to contaminate them. She simply nodded and acknowledged each with, "Detective."

Danny began to fill her in on what he found out from the locals. "Blaine here says the body was discovered just before dawn by those two scared boys over there. They were huntin' a new spot to do some fly-fis.h.i.+ng, found a path, followed it, and stumbled on her. They're going to have to wash out those waders when they get home. No sign of the head, but they're pretty sure this is the Granger girl that went missing last Sat.u.r.day."

Rainey walked over and studied the body without touching it. "What makes them so sure it's her?"

Blaine answered, "That 'WWJD' tattooed on her ankle is exactly like the picture her folks gave us. They weren't too happy she had a tattoo, but it helped us identify her. We'll know positively when we get the hands un-taped and compare prints. We hope the scavengers left the thumbs under the tape untouched. The M.E. thinks the tape may have preserved the skin well enough to rehydrate. She was printed at one of those safe kids things at the mall, so we have a comparison set. If we can't get a print, then we'll have to wait for DNA, but I'm pretty sure it's her."

At that moment, a small white haired man in blue coveralls came toward them. He made eye contact with Rainey. A huge grin enveloped his face, curling the ends of his white mustache upward. "Agent Bell, how nice to see you again. Sorry it's under these circ.u.mstances, but then we always seem to meet over a dead body."

"Dr. Patrick, I'm glad to see you. I was hoping it would be you on this one," Rainey said, and then added, "Her hands... they are the same. Can we see if she's holding anything before you bag her?"

"Let me get something down so we can lay her over and then we'll see what the tape could be hiding," Dr. Patrick said, as he and his a.s.sistant moved a plastic sheet into position beside the body.

Rainey squatted in front of the putrid, blackening remains. Rainey wasn't "used to" the smell, but she had learned to block it out and breathe properly. Still, she had to fight the gag reflex trying to overtake her. Detective Martin moved closer.

He spoke behind a handkerchief, held over his nose and mouth. "Did he beat the others this badly?"

"It's hard to tell what's bruising and what's lividity. The animals and insects didn't do us any favors," Rainey answered, dispa.s.sionately.

She had to be detached. How else could she deal with the torturous images she saw almost daily? She spent the last seven years researching serial killers, rapists, s.a.d.i.s.ts and the like, by reading about them in reams of reports, interviewing them in prison, cataloguing their behavior, and going out into the field to help catch the new ones. It took time to develop the expertise needed to become one of the eight members of Rainey's team. In conjunction with their extensive field experience and accrued wisdom, she and her coworkers had studied an extremely large volume of cases. An average law enforcement officer would pursue maybe one serial killer in a lifetime. Rainey's team averaged twelve serial investigations a year.

Criminal behavioral a.n.a.lysis developed based on the idea, a person's behavior directly resulted from that person's thought processes. The repet.i.tions of behavior in his or her crimes became recognizable. By comparing types of criminal behaviors and the people who committed those offenses, it was possible to cla.s.sify the type of person who would most likely commit a crime with similar characteristics. In other words, Rainey Bell spent her days and most nights submerged in human depravity. Today would be no different.

Rainey stood up and moved back as Dr. Patrick approached. He removed a cross, suspended on a gold chain, from what remained of the neck. He placed it in an evidence bag and handed it to Rainey. She studied the cross while the doctor and his a.s.sistant cut the ropes fastening the victim to the tree, careful to leave the knots intact. Slowly, they lowered the body onto the plastic sheeting. Once all the bindings had been bagged and tagged, the doctor moved to the hands. He cut the tape with a scalpel only enough to see inside. Prying the hands open slightly, he reached in with tweezers and removed a small piece of folded paper. He placed the paper, stained with body fluids from decomposition, in another evidence bag and handed it to Rainey. She looked at the paper, unable to see what was written on it, but she knew from the way it was folded what it would say.

Detective Martin moved in to get a look at the contents of the bag. "I don't remember seeing anything in the reports about a note in the previous victims' hands."

Danny spoke up. "We kept that out of the reports. We need one piece of evidence that only the killer knows. We would very much like to keep it that way."

Rainey was glad Danny didn't give Martin all the information about the notes. The fewer people that knew certain details the better.

"Sure, sure," Martin replied. "So you don't think this is a copy cat? This is the real deal?"

Rainey looked down at the body, trying to see the smiling face of Crystal Lynn Granger from the missing persons report. She said quietly, "Yeah, this is the real deal."

Later in the evening, Rainey and Danny were shown into an empty conference room at the county sheriff's office. They spread a stack of files across the long table in the center of the room. They just arrived from the morgue where Dr. Patrick confirmed that Crystal Lynn Granger suffered almost identical wounds as the first eight victims. The doctor had the unfortunate experience of recovering, now, his third victim in the case and had reviewed the other victims' autopsy reports. He concluded that all of the women were victims of the same killer the media had nicknamed, "The Praying Hands Killer," in reference to the victims' final pose.

Crystal most likely died within hours of when she was last seen on the previous Sat.u.r.day. Like the others, the retraction of her neck muscles indicated decapitation was the cause of death. Crystal's body was in advanced decomposition when she was found, but there was still enough evidence to link the cases. All of the young women were bound, choked, beaten severely, savagely raped, and sodomized. The instrument used to behead the victims appeared to be consistent with a long, thin blade, possibly a sword or machete. The same weapon also made the cut to the abdomen. No s.e.m.e.n was found and Dr. Patrick seemed to think all the rapes had been carried out with a large phallus or similar instrument. There was no sign of the head. It was a.s.sumed to be in the James River. Several of the other victims' heads showed up weeks after the bodies were found, downstream from the scene of their murders and always in a river.

Rainey set about taping pictures of the known fatalities on a white board placed in the room for that purpose. Nine times she reached into a file folder and pulled out a picture of a teenage girl, full of life. Nine more times she taped a picture of each girl's mutilated body beneath their corresponding smiling faces.

"d.a.m.n," she said, under her breath.

Danny looked up from the corner where he was concentrating on pouring a cup of coffee. "What?"

"Nothing," Rainey responded, then added quickly, "They were all so young with their whole lives ahead of them. Look at their faces. These are confident, athletic, beautiful girls. How does he get a girl like that to go with him willingly?"

"The news media all up and down 220 warned about this killer, but he has no trouble getting control of them," Danny said.

Just that quickly the two a.n.a.lysts began the process of working the Granger murder case without an official p.r.o.nouncement. They brainstormed, shared ideas, and formed hypotheses based on the evidence at hand and the knowledge they gained studying similar murderers. Back at Quantico, Rainey, along with the rest of the a.n.a.lysts, already generated a profile of this serial killer. Rainey and Danny were sent to evaluate the latest murder to see if the profile still applied. An hour later, they emerged from the room ready to give the local detectives their opinions on the case.

Often asked to work together, they made a good team. Rainey was always happy to go into the field with Danny. They were Academy cla.s.smates and joined the BAU at almost the same time. She never let him forget she was a full member of the team first. At thirty-nine, Danny was just two years older than Rainey. They had an almost sibling relations.h.i.+p on and off the job. He sometimes made her crazy, but she loved him anyway. He could always make her smile when his cherubic, freckled cheeks dimpled up in a grin. Rainey's work didn't allow her to smile often. Danny took her mind off the human misery they witnessed. She appreciated it more than he would ever know.

Rainey followed Danny into the squad room where the detectives and other officers had gathered. She was used to the way local law enforcement stared at them. It was as if she and Danny were magicians about to reveal the secrets behind a trick. Most people did not understand what the BAU did. Behavioral a.n.a.lysts were not psychics, but rather a group of people who were trained to recognize the undercurrents that link various criminal personality types. Rainey couldn't tell them exactly who the perpetrator was, but she could tell them what kind of person to look for. It wasn't magic. It was hard, life consuming work.

Rainey's most recent and longest standing relations.h.i.+p, with Bobby, a cop in Arlington, had fallen victim to the job. He wanted to marry her, but he also wanted a wife he would find at home, not one he had to wonder when or if she was coming home. Rainey chose the job and they parted amicably, but she missed him. She missed his companions.h.i.+p most of all. He was her best friend. She didn't have time for many friends. In a sad way, Rainey was glad to have this case to occupy her mind while her personal life fell apart. She needed a vacation, but she was determined to find this killer before taking time off. For now, she buried her needs and focused on the young girls whose pictures she had taped to the board.

With all eyes in the room on her, she began to speak. "The UNSUB in this case has now taken the lives of nine young women that we are aware of. You are looking for a white male between the ages of twenty and thirty. He will be above average to very good looking, with no outward physical deformities. He will be well liked and appear non-threatening. The young women this UNSUB takes are pretty, self-confident, in good physical condition, and live very low risk lifestyles. We think these women go with him willingly, with no resistance. They are comfortable and feel safe with him. If they felt threatened, these girls would have fought back. There is no evidence of a struggle at the scenes where we think he coaxed them into his vehicle."

Danny jumped in. "The victims were all good girls, smart, popular, with strong ties to their churches. This type of girl does not go with a stranger willingly. She must have known the UNSUB, if only casually. You are looking for a man that travels Highway 220 for some reason. He gets off the highway and comes into these little towns, picks a victim, and then leaves again without anyone suspecting him. We know he travels this route frequently, going both north and south. He has a totally innocent reason to be here, to meet these girls, and then returns to take them at his pleasure."

Rainey added, "We're encouraging all the other law enforcement agencies involved to re-examine the victims' history for any possible connection to traveling salesmen, businessmen, service technicians, etc. You should also check out local hotels for men fitting the profile, who stayed in hotels near the crime scenes, around the time of the murders or when the bodies were found. This guy would probably hang around a few days to watch the cops."

Danny rejoined the conversation. "Due to the remoteness of his kill sites, he could have committed crimes we are unaware of. With that said, we think the first murders happened up here in Virginia, then he traveled south to North Carolina, and now he's back up north. Highway 220 is significant to him for some reason. We have no evidence that he's committed a crime like this anywhere else, but don't be surprised if more bodies turn up near here. This is his territory."

"We think he lives on this highway, maybe even close by," Rainey said, pointing at a map of the area on the wall behind her. Nine red pushpins marked the places where the victims were found. "He is familiar with local trails into the woods and secluded areas where he takes his victims. He needs time to do what he does and he must know he will not be discovered there. He has studied each of these communities. He knows the habits of people in these rural areas, what the locals do for fun, and where to catch these young women alone. He most likely stalks them for some time to establish their routines and takes them when he knows they are most vulnerable. He probably watches more than one victim at a time. People have seen him with these young women, but like Agent McNally said, he had a legitimate reason for being there."

Detective Martin asked, "That could be anybody. How do we know what to look for?"

Rainey answered, "The guy you are looking for would be appealing to these girls. Remember he is probably good-looking and charming. I believe he is in his early twenties or appears younger than he is. That's young for this type of killer, but he has to be attractive to these teenage girls. He is also probably in good physical condition. These were not tiny girls and he would have to be large enough to gain control over them. There will be no reason to suspect him and that will be your first clue. This is not an outwardly disturbed person. He will fit in socially. He will not be awkward in any way. He possesses above average intelligence. He is organized and planned his crimes for years. When you question him, he will show the appropriate emotional concern for the victims. He may even offer to help with the investigation."

A uniformed cop in the back said, "This guy has to be insane to do what he does to these girls. How can he hide that?"

It was Danny's turn to answer. "He's not insane in the legal sense of the word. You are not looking for a mental patient. This guy is a true psychopath. Outwardly, he has learned to mimic normal human emotions. These guys learn the words but not the music, so to speak. The music of emotion has no power to move him. He has learned to mask his true personality and desires, in order to get what he wants. Above all, he sees nothing wrong with his behavior. He has no remorse, no guilt."

Rainey continued, "He may have exhibited psychopathic behaviors at a younger age, but often these behaviors are misinterpreted as common 'boys will be boys' situations. He may have been caught peeping in a window, or accused of going too far with a girl, but through charm and maneuvering, he escaped punishment. Some psychopathic behavior is thought of as simple alpha male a.s.sertiveness and applauded in athletes or successful businessmen and women. Not all psychopaths are murderers. What you need to look for is a guy who can talk his way out of or in to anything. This type of UNSUB is a master manipulator."

Another officer spoke up. "What about the crosses and the praying position? What does that tell you?"

"Because it took three to five days to find his victims, the distance he travelled with them, and the fact that he doesn't want them found right away suggests a controlled killer," Danny answered and continued, "He brought ropes, a weapon, and instruments to torture the victim. The planning, stalking, and his obvious social skills all point to an organized offender. This also backs up the theory that he may appear younger than he really is, because his maturity as a killer is fairly advanced."

Rainey completed Danny's answer, as they often did for each other. One could pick up the other's thoughts in mid-sentence and never miss a beat.

"This type of serial murderer gets off on controlling his victim, instilling as much fear as possible. He is s.a.d.i.s.tic in that his reward is his victim's terror. He may be impotent, subst.i.tuting her fear for his s.e.xual gratification. The posing of the victim and the religious connotations we believe are this killer's attempts to make us look for a disorganized, mentally ill person, a smoke screen as it were. The beating these girls took might indicate a disorganized killer caught up in a rage, but it may just as well indicate how hard he had to fight these girls to control them. He must dominate them and get them to submit. He picks victims he knows will fight. He gets off on that. He takes the cross from one victim as a trophy and places it on his next victim. This act has strong meaning to the UNSUB. It is his signature. He wants us to know it's him, but beyond that, he is no 'hand of G.o.d' killer, not a mental patient who hears messages from G.o.d. He does all of this to fulfill his narcissistic fantasies. He may belong to a church, but his real deity is himself."

A young female deputy, Rainey guessed not more than five years older than the victims, read from the notes she had taken. "So, I'm looking for a good-looking, well built, charming young man with a narcissistic personality. Sounds like my boyfriend."

The room erupted in laughter.

Without cracking a smile Rainey said, "It could be. Where was he on the night Crystal went missing?"

The laughing ceased.

Danny reiterated Rainey's point. "That's what we're telling you. This guy is slick. He moves among you without notice. Do not discount anyone. You've probably already talked to him or someone that knows him."

Detective Martin stood up and began giving a.s.signments to the officers. Rainey went back to the conference room to pack up the files, while Danny stayed behind to give Martin their written suggestions for how to proceed with the investigation. Rainey was looking forward to getting back on the helicopter for home. She already made up her mind that this was the last case she would work until she took a much-needed rest. She was drained of energy. It had been a long day and a longer year. Re-charging her batteries was in order.

The young deputy stuck her head in the open door. "Hey, I'm sorry about the boyfriend comment," she said.