“We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Selene, Texas. If you’d like to step through that door and follow me, I’ll take you to the Chief’s office.”
SSA Walker gave a sharp nod and walked over to the door that was immediately opened from the other side. As we all walked through the police station together, I glanced around, taking in the local law enforcement. Unfortunately, it was expected that visiting FBI agents would receive some misguided hostility from local law enforcement. During training, we were advised that we might occasionally encounter law enforcement that didn’t take well to the FBI coming onto their turf.
They mistakenly expected us to walk in and automatically take over their cases. Many assumed that the FBI would keep them from the investigation. Instead, our job was to complete profiles and study the case files. We weren’t there to take over. We played a more supportive role in most cases. Unless the police force didn’t have the capability to do it themselves due to a lack of training or staffing, we were merely advisors. Looking around at the small station, they seemed to be well-equippedand well-manned.We would just have to wait and see how the whole thing played out.
Eyes followed us as we trailed behind the officer from the reception desk. He led us past a maze of desks until we reached an elevator at the back of the room. We waited as the officer stopped in front of the lift and pushed the call button. Once the doors opened, each of us slid in and waited quietly as he pushed one of only two buttons.
“I would just like to say,” the officer began as he looked over his shoulder, eyeing each of us. “Not everyone will be happy that you’re here, but I, for one, hope that you can give more insight into this case. That bastard needs to be nailed to the wall.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” my team leader said diplomatically.
The doors opened after the brief ride, and we stepped out into a scene similar to the one downstairs. Desks were lined up sporadically in the center of the floor, and offices lined the walls. Closed doors concealed more private spaces, generally for supervisors. Larger rooms were meant for meetings or task forces like ours to work on high profile cases. Anything that needed larger teams and more eyes. Instead of heading to one of those rooms, we were led straight to the back. There was an office that was mostly windows overlooking the larger room. A brass plaque hung next to the door and read: Chief Ethan Hardgrove.
The officer who’d been leading us through the station gave a quick knock on the door. There was no hesitation as the voice on the other side called out, “Enter!”
Our escort turned the knob and swung the door open, then gave us a nod, indicating for us to enter before him. Once again, I found myself in the back of the group, observing as everyone piled in. There were two uncomfortable looking plastic chairs in front of the massive desk, with piles of paperwork covering mostof the scratched and stained wooden surface. Framed awards and commendations lined the walls, and family photos sat on shelves behind the Chief of police.
He was an extremely handsome man in what appeared to be his mid- to late 40s, possibly early fifties. He carried it extremely well. He was wearing a black button-up with the top two buttons undone and his dark red tie loosened. My first impression was that the man took his job very seriously—and that he was also very stressed. With the way his thick, dark hair was sticking up in spikes, I’d wager the man had been running his fingers through it for quite some time. It didn’t take a profiler to guess that it was from extreme agitation.
There was a streak of gray along both temples, adding to the overall appeal of the police Chief. IfSilver Foxhad a definition in the dictionary, his picture would have been next to it. He stood to greet each of us, reaching out to shake everyone’s hand, not just our team leader’s, which I appreciated. He looked relieved and genuinely grateful to have us in his police station.
“Police Chief Hardgrove,” SSA Walker said. “It’s good to meet you. I have to say, we appreciate the welcome atmosphere so far. That’s not always the case when the FBI arrives.”
The Chief gave a strained smile. “As much as it pains me to say this, we need your help. Unfortunately, you will find not everybody is 100% on board with your presence here.”
“That’s okay,” SSA Walker said. “We’re used to it. This is a rather large police station for such a small town,” he said, glancing through the glass to see several sets of eyes watching us.
Chief Hardgrove nodded. “It is a small town, but it’s a large county. Being the most populated, the responsibility falls on our station to cover the entire area.”
SSA Walker nodded his head. “That’s understandable.” He turned and pointed to each of us and began introductions. “Special Agent Garcia,” he pointed, “is our tech specialist.Special Agent Thomas, Special Agent Hanson, and Special Agent Parker.” I gave a nod to the Chief when my name was called. “Each member of my team is highly trained and eager to help.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Chief Hardgrove said. “Let me show you to the conference room that my detectives are set up in. I’m assuming you’ve read over the files?”
“I have. Each of my team members has their own copy as well. We’ve all been studying on the flight over. You’ll have to educate us on any new information. Also, we will have a lot of questions as we start to fill in any blanks.”
“That’s good,” the Police Chief said, then he stopped in front of a door. “Unfortunately, at this time, there hasn’t been any new information coming to light yet.” Then, without knocking, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Chapter 6
Parker
It was a surprisingly spacious room with one long table in the center where someone could set up their laptops and case files and work comfortably without being crowded by others working nearby.
The large white board, nailed to the wall at the far end of the room, caught my attention. My feet started moving in that direction before my brain could process fast enough to send a signal to stop them. I could feel eyes on me as I stopped in front of the board. I had ignored the detectives when I’d entered the room, my mind immediately captured by the whiteboard, so I didn’t know if they were happy to have us or not. At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Names. Listed ages. Locations. Where they had been found. I put my hands on my hips as I began to study the information. The file I read through briefly at our headquarters and more thoroughly on the plane had much of the same details. But seeing it displayed the way it was had a deeper impact. Each of the victims had a headshot of how they appeared prior to being abducted. They were likely provided by the families at the timeof the victim’s disappearances. Next to their smiling, almost carefree expressions were crime scene photos.
The photos showed how they were found and documented it. Each was a horrific sight. Five beautiful women, all young from the ages of 20 to 26. Different shades of brunette hair, some lighter, some darker. Some had shoulder-length hair, while others had waist-length hair. But each of them had lighter colored eyes. Blue, hazel, and one with green that appeared to be almost the exact shade of the moss that you would find growing on trees in the forest, very similar to my one green eye.
Each of them was displayed in a way that both destroyed and protected their modesty. One of the women had an arm draped across her chest, covering her breasts, while her other was raised above her head. But her legs were spread in a lewd manner, revealing her bruised inner thighs.
Another victim had a hand placed on top of her groin as if to cover her mons from prying eyes, with the other arm spread wide at her side, allowing her breasts to be revealed to anyone who would look.
Each of them was different yet alike. The women were partially covered while partially exposed. They were also all covered in deep purple bruising, indicating that they had been brutally beaten by a blunt object. There were knife wounds, ones that sliced them open to the bone, and what appeared to be whip lashes sliced across most of the flesh of their bodies. From head to toe, their flesh was disfigured.
A person could almost imagine they were looking at erotic art based on the poses, but the devastating torture and the damage that it had caused each woman took away any ounce of beauty from the display.
“He worships them,” I said softly to myself as I stared at the pictures of the bodies that had been scrubbed clean of any blood or grime that might have accumulated during their confinement.I stared at the hair that had been washed and brushed to a high glossy sheen and carefully arranged in delicate waves over the victim’s shoulders and around their head.
