Chapter 8
Kylie entered the FBI field office in Kansas City Monday morning. She wore comfortable jeans and a sleeveless blouse, and although they were not an extreme variation from the wardrobe she’d donned over the past few days and made a habit of wearing every time she worked an online predator case, it had felt good to wear her everyday clothes over the weekend.
After spending time in Dallas at her apartment, clearing her head of the case for a day or so while taking care of matters at home, she hurried into the field office, grabbing coffee and listening while a couple secretaries complained about Monday mornings sucking.
It had been good having lunch with her mother, chatting about things that were important to her. Deirdre Donovan, who went by “Dee,” was aging before Kylie’s eyes. Suddenly it seemed more important than it had in years past to give her mother more attention, to consent to conversations about Kylie’s sister, and maybe to consider there was still mending to do. Kylie was more than willing to accept that her relationship with her parents was strained, but accepting that her relationship with her dead sister needed to be repaired, as her mother put it, was something Kylie hadn’t considered.
She sure never thought she blamed her sister for dying. But when her mother accused Kylie of chasing after all of these online predators because she wanted to punish a man who’d never been caught, or possibly because deep inside Kylie believed the man who had killed Karen might be one of the men she arrested, that brought her pause. She didn’t like hearing that she was chasing ghosts and that nothing she did would ever bring Karen back. And it bugged the crap out of Kylie that she couldn’t get it out of her head when her mother told her to let Karen go and to start living with the living and not with the dead.
No matter what her mother said, Kylie didn’t believe she was living on autopilot, simply rehashing the same crime in her mind over and over again, determined to replay it until finally she saved every teenage girl out there. Kylie knew she wasn’t Superwoman. She knew girls would be sexually molested, tortured, and killed no matter how hard she worked. But she was good at what she did, very good. If she wasn’t, the Bureau wouldn’t continually assign her to every sexual predator case when local authorities contacted the FBI for help, or when the agency determined a case merited their intervention.
For a moment she felt her mother’s arms around her, hugging her good-bye before she’d headed back up here from Dallas. Her mother was so much smaller, almost frail. Kylie had held her for several minutes, feeling the warmth and the love. And in spite of not agreeing with everything she said, Kylie had promised to visit again as soon as possible. She meant it, too. This weekend had reminded her that her family wouldn’t be around forever. Someday she would have to cope with losing more family members, and she wanted to spend every minute she could spare enjoying time with both of her parents before that day happened.
“Kylie, good, you’re here.” John Athey ran his fingers down his tie as he stood, walking around the table and extending his hand to Kylie when she paused in the doorway to the briefing room. He patted her arm, a fatherly gesture, instead of shaking her hand.
“I hope I’m not late.” She knew she wasn’t although there were already several men sitting around the rectangular table in the meeting room. “There was construction all along the highway this morning.”
“This town is always like that,” John said. “And no, you aren’t late at all. Let me introduce you. You already know Paul, of course.”
“Yes.” She smiled at Paul, who nursed a hot cup of coffee.
“This is the chief of police for Mission Hills. Murphy Radisson, this is Special Agent Kylie Donovan. While here, she’s working undercover as ‘Kylie Dover.’ ”
The chief of police was a large man, who stood slowly from the other side of the table and extended his hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Ms. Donovan,” he said in a deep voice.
Kylie took his hand, feeling his warm, strong calloused fingers grip hers in a firm handshake. “Please, call me Kylie,” she insisted. “And it’s good to meet you, too, Chief Radisson. I look forward to discussing this case with you.”
“Which is why we’re here,” John said.
“Call me Rad,” the Chief said, playing old school and sitting when Kylie did. He placed his hands, palms down, on two stacks of manila file folders. “And I appreciate your coming to Kansas City to help us out on this case, Kylie.” He turned his attention to Paul and John. “I’ve gathered additional information since I first sent over what we had so far on this case.”
His knuckles were large and he didn’t wear a wedding ring. There wasn’t even an indentation where a ring usually would be. He was either a confirmed bachelor or too much of a man to be bothered with such trivial jewelry as a band on his finger to confirm his love to one woman. Kylie would put him somewhere around fifty, in good shape, although a bit weathered around the edges. She wondered what his opinion of Perry was, and mulled over whether or not to bring up meeting with his nieces and having them, as well as him, over to her house for pizza last Friday.
She would hear the Chief out and then decide what information she would offer. Getting comfortable in her seat, she pulled her notebook out and opened it. The first thing that caught her eye in her scribbled notes was the block letters
“We’re concerned with the information we have so far that our perp might be a city employee,” Paul began, speaking up as he put down his coffee cup. He opened the laptop in front of him and stared at it while continuing to talk. “More to the point, we could be looking at our perp being one of your cops.”
Rad’s expression hardened and he looked angry enough to attack, but when he spoke his tone was as calm as it had been a moment ago during introductions. “I checked out each of my officers over the weekend. I got a look at most of their computers and several of them were chatting on them when I stopped by. Which doesn’t prove shit.”
“It shows you’re willing to cooperate,” Kylie said, reassuring him.
“We’ve got several ISPs,” Paul said slowly. “The alleged boy that Olivia Brown and Sally Wright were chatting with online used different computers at different times during their chats. None of them were home computers, and most were public computers. But with Olivia Brown,” he continued, and then paused, tapping keys on his laptop and then looking back up wide-eyed, excitement making his eyes bright. “On two different days Peter uses a computer that is located inside your police station.”
“When? What days?” Rad snapped.
Paul looked down at his laptop. “March third, ten thirty A.M. He spoke to her on her cell phone. We’ve got a specific address on the computer that sent the messages to Brown.” Paul jotted something down on a piece of notepaper and then slid it across the table to the Chief. “Confirm with your own IT department. Here’s the IP address.”
Kylie saw the numbers scribbled on the piece of paper and an uncomfortable knot tightened in her gut. “How strict are you on your officers only using their own computers?”
“Not everyone has their own computer,” Rad said, staring at the paper as if he could decipher the numbers and determine which computer it was in his department. “But we’re going to implement policy effective immediately stating no one can use anyone’s computer without my personal consent.”
“Where were the other computers located?” Kylie asked Paul.
“We’ve got documented online chats dating back to last October,” Paul said, making eye contact with each of them and then resting his intense gaze on Kylie. “He used the library, several different coffee shops, and a few bookstores.” Paul pushed a few more keys on his laptop and then pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll give you a printout so you’ll have potential locations. But since our guy isn’t using the same computer twice, it’s like trying to track a guy who is using a pay phone. We don’t know where he’s going to be next.”
Paul stood and left the room. When he returned he gave Kylie a printout of different businesses. Most were places she hadn’t been to yet, but then she’d focused on the teenage hangouts so far. Unlike other sexual predators she’d hunted down in previous cases, apparently this perp didn’t care where his prey hung out. He focused on public locations with semi-private computers to hunt for his next victim.
