Blame It On The Night

Chapter 11

“Miss Harris, do you have a minute?” Dave had waited until FBI profiler had left Lieutenant Mullin’s office before approaching her. He had stood impatiently outside Mullins office as the lieutenant and Agent Harris spoke quietly after the others had left the office. Dave had to admit to being impressed with Agent Harris and the information she shared invaluable. He would be the first to admit that he was wrong and pig headed for not wanting the FBI brought in on his case, but listening to Agent Harris earlier, Dave realized that he was dealing with something that he never dealt with before.

“Of course, Detective Reed, how can I help you?”

“Please, call me Dave.” Dave insisted.

“Ok, Dave, and you must call me BJ”. BJ said with a smile. When the detective had first walked into the lieutenant’s office, she found him very attractive. Of course, what’s not to like, BJ thought. At 6”1’, a lean muscular frame, blond hair cut close to his head, and gorgeous blue penetrating eyes, BJ imagined that many women would find the detective attractive. The problem was, she would have to work closely with him for the time being, and that meant that things must remain strictly business between them.

“BJ it is. Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Dave asked with a quick smile.

“I would love a cup, thank you.” BJ agreed as she tried to ignore how Dave’s face lit up with the smile.

“You may change your mind once you taste what passes for coffee around here”, Dave joked as he led the agent to his office, stopping only long enough to fill two cups with coffee. Indicating that she should sit in the chair directly across from his desk, he watched as she sat back and crossed her slim legs at the ankle. He tried not to stare at her legs, legs that were surprisingly long for a woman of her stature. She was easily only 5’6, while he at 6”1 towered over her. He shook his head vigorously when images of those beautiful legs high and tight around his waist entered his mind.

BJ cautiously took a sip of the hot coffee. She swallowed deeply when Dave sat on the edge of his desk, bringing him in close proximity with her. Suddenly the office felt smaller, more confined. She could smell his cologne, and although it was hard to tell what brand it was, she felt sure it was spiced liberally with his own male essence. To cover her sudden awareness of the detective, BJ took another sip of her coffee as she forced herself to breathe deeply, exhaling through her dry lips. She was a scientist for God sakes, she told herself firmly. She could not recall ever having such an immediate reaction to man in her life.

“You said you had some questions, Dave”, BJ said nervously, hoping to defuse the sudden sexual tension that had developed between them.

“Yes, questions…” Dave took a sip of his coffee to buy time. The image of him and the young agent making love was disturbing to him and shocking considering that they met all of an hour ago. He had a great respect for women and he didn’t normally see them as sexual objects. Soon after he passed his detective exams, he did a two year stint in vice. His lieutenant was a woman and while many of the older men complained almost daily, he personally didn’t have a problem reporting to a woman. He was forced to admit that BJ had interested him when he first laid eyes on her in this meeting. Sitting next to her, he found her fresh scent intoxicating. He had watched her surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye when the meeting first started and found her cool blond looks enticing. He soon became equally if not more impressed with her professionalism and knowledge. He may have resented the FBI coming in on this case, but he soon learned there were things he didn’t know.

“Why does a person become a serial killer?” Dave finally asked.

“Ah, now that is the question.” BJ said, happy to talk about a subject she knew well. “There can be any number of reasons why a person kills. The experts still can’t agree if it is biological or environmental; are serial killers born or are they made? We know quite bit about them, and we learn more about each time we catch one, but we don’t have all the answers. The biology, psychology, and motive of every offender are different.”

“How so?” Dave asked, once again impressed with BJ’s knowledge.

BJ cautiously took a sip of the hot coffee, grimacing at the taste. “Well, you have people who kill for the thrill of it. They obtain a sense of power when they kill and as hard as it is for you or me to believe or understand, they enjoy killing for the sake of killing. You have the necrophilia’s and cannibals; people who kill to achieve something other than their victims death. Death is only a by product for what they truly crave, the ingestion of human flesh or the sexual fulfillment they find when performing sexual acts with a dead body. There are your so called mercy killers, people who kill the elderly or the sick to alleviate their pain. They tell themselves that they are doing it for the good of their victims. Usually these sorts of killers are women, mostly care givers in some capacity or another. You have the ones that kill for financial gain; usually referred to as black widows.

“Then there are the ones like your guy. Unfortunately, along with the thrill killers, his type is possibly the hardest to find and stop. They are nomadic, rarely do they settle in one place. This type of killer develops a relationship with his victim for a short time, real or imagined. He kills not for pleasure, but to possess his target. Thrill killers and to a lesser extent, cannibals and necrophilia are opportunity killers. Your killer plans and often stalks his victims; nothing is left up to chance. He is methodical and rarely makes a mistake. In fact, unless you are looking for a pattern, it is not unusual for this type of killer to go undetected for years.”

“But still, did he just wake up one morning and decide to start killing? I guess what I’m asking is, was Cathy Henderson his first victim?”

BJ could hear the frustration in Dave’s voice. She had heard it before. Trailing a serial killer wasn’t easy and often times the chase would end without resolution. She herself had felt the same frustration several times in her career. “It’s unlikely that Ms. Henderson was his first victim.” She finally answered.

“What sort of person are we looking for?” Dave asked.

“As I said before, it is highly probable that he will be a white male anywhere from 25 to 40 years old, a loner, someone who may possibly have never formed an intimate relationship with anyone. He may be undereducated, but he is no less intelligent, perhaps even a genius. More than likely he was abused as a child.”

“Do you mean sexual abuse?”

“It is possible, but not likely in this case. There may have been physical abuse, perhaps abject neglect. If the abuse were sexual, in all probability, he would be killing men…his abuser as it were. Or perhaps, he would kill women that represent his mother for allowing the abuse. Your man is killing women, but these women do not represent his mother. The sexual contact between the killer and the victims negates this. You may not find out why he is killing these women until you catch him.” BJ could tell from the look on Dave’s face that she hadn’t really helped him. “Listen, your killer can be caught.” BJ tried to be reassuring.

“What are the chances that happening, BJ. I got the impression in the meeting earlier that it’s almost impossible to catch a serial killer.”

“It’s difficult, but not impossible. Take your man for instance. He has shortened his kill time. Why, we can’t be certain, but it is a major shift for him and one that could get him caught. Anytime a serial killer steps outside of his ritualistic behavior, he leaves himself open for capture and conviction.”

“Well, thank you for your time BJ. You have helped. I just want to get this freak off the streets before he kills again.” Dave raked his fingers through his blond hair. The enormity of the task he faced in finding this guy was almost overwhelming.

“You’ll catch him. I’ve read your file Dave, and you do good solid police work.” There was a moment of awkward silence between them. BJ was once again aware of how close he was to her. Unable to stop herself, she allowed her eyes traveled up one firm thigh until they rested on his impressive bulge. Looking away quickly, BJ silently cursed herself for being foolish. Standing, she placed her cup on the desk where Dave still sat; the action bringing her closer to him. “Well, I better get back to the office. If you have any other questions, please call me.” The words were pushed out in a rush as she tried to make a hasty retreat.

Dave hid a smile. He watched as she blushed prettily after checking him out. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one affected with what was happening between them. “I appreciate your help, BJ, and I do have one last question.”

BJ, who was half way out the door, stopped and turned to Dave. “Billie Jean” she said quietly and left the office.

Dave was taken aback. How on earth did she know he was going to ask her what her initials stood for, Dave thought, incredulous? He supposed she was asked that question often enough. As he watched her walk away from him, his eyes drawn to the seductive sway of her hips, Dave realized just how much he was looking forward to working with the FBI, Agent Billie Jean Harris in particular.

***

(Tomah, Wisconsin, August 13, 1992)

Lucy walked through the small house she owned, trying to find relief from the oppressing heat that hung in the air, but to no avail. The fan in the kitchen window offered little relief, only stirring the hot air from one side of the room to the next. Using the Enquirer she tried reading earlier, Lucy fanned herself vigorously as she prayed for the relief the night would bring. Frustration sat in when she looked at the clock and realized that it would be over six hours before the glaring sun went down, and even then, the night would still hold the day’s heat. Retrieving her quickly warming beer from the table where she sat it, Lucy was about to drink deeply from the can when she heard the knock at the door. Cursing softly, she reluctantly put the can down without drinking from it.

Having opened the front door earlier in a vain attempt to bring in non existent cool air from outdoors, Lucy could see the well dressed woman standing on the other side of her locked screened door. Something about the woman was oddly familiar, but whatever that was, it was elusive to Lucy. She watched as the woman nervously ran her hands down her expensive dress, the action catching her off guard. Lucy would not expect a woman of such obvious wealth to be nervous when standing on her front porch, but nervous the woman was. If there was any doubt that the woman was rich, the shinny new Mercedes parked in front of her house would have been enough to persuade Lucy.

“Can I help you?” Convinced now that the woman had come to the wrong house; Lucy didn’t move to open the door. The woman looked up when Lucy spoke, and the next breath Lucy was about to draw was instead caught in her throat in shock. “Who are you?” even as she asked the question, Lucy knew who the woman was that stood before her.

“Mama, it’s me. It’s me, Lillian.”

***

“Are you ready” Ridge stood at the threshold of Brooke’s office. The meeting between Forrester and Jared Quentin was fast approaching.

“Yes, I am. Has the car arrived?” Brooke asked absently, not looking up from her desk, as she quickly gathered up papers that she would need for the meeting.

“Yes, Karen just called my office. She said you were on your phone.” Ridge walked completely in her office.

Brooke vaguely remembered talking to James about one of his patient possibly working at Forrester. Her mind was focused on one thing this morning. The meeting with Jared Quentin was very important for Forrester, but more especially for herself. “Did you go over the list of designers that Megan e-mailed to your home last night?” Brooke looked up at Ridge for the first time since he entered her office.

“No, I didn’t.” Ridge admitted wearily.

Brooke was irritated. Forrester had to get moving with finding new designers, and there were a few names on the list that Megan comprised that would not be free for long. “May I ask why not?” Brooke tried hard to keep her voice level.

“If you must know, Taylor and I had to dinner with friends.” Ridge resented Brooke’s question.

Brooke wanted to so badly retort that she didn’t think he and Taylor had any friends. Controlling herself, she tried to remain calm and maintain business decorum; her clenched fist at her side gave testimony to her efforts restrain her annoyance.

“I thought you understood the urgency of finding a replacement for you now that you’re working exclusively on the bedroom line. Surely your dinner with Taylor didn’t take up the whole evening, Ridge. I happen to know that Megan e-mailed the list to you before she left work at six.”

“Brooke, I do have a life outside of Forrester…”

“And I don’t?” Brooke interrupted imperiously. “We have to hire two designers to replace you on the men’s line and help Eric with the haute couture lines and at least two of the designers on that list won’t be available for long.”

“I am well aware of what has to be done, Brooke.” Ridge said between clenched teeth

“Are you? I’m not sure you are.” She left her desk to stand in front of Ridge. “You need to be on board with what is happening here one hundred percent. I thought you wanted a say on who the new designers were. If I’m wrong, please let me know now and I will take care of this myself.”

“You’re being unfair, Brooke.” Seething, Ridge breathed deeply. The last thing he wanted was to fight with Brooke and lose his composure, which would be badly needed when they faced Jared Quentin. “Look, I will go over the list after this meeting. I have never let you down before…in business.” Ridge emphasized when Brooke opened her mouth to protest.

“I hope so Ridge. I need to know that I can count on you.” Brooke turned to retrieve her brief case from her desk. She missed the look of bitterness that flashed across Ridge’s face.

“We better get started. The last thing we need is to be late for this meeting.” Brooke quickly walked out the door of her office, followed closely by Ridge.

***

 

So, are you going to keep me in suspense, Paul?” Curt had to admit that he was curious to know what the agent found out. On the surface, Dr. Taylor Forrester looked squeaky clean, but he had been in this business long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. “What did you find out about Dr. Taylor Hayes Forrester?”

“I won’t keep you in suspense, but please understand, this is just an initial report.”

“Of course, I understand, but now my curiously is at a fever pitch. Come on, spill it man!”

“The dossier I read on Dr. Forrester stated that she received her undergraduate degree from the University of Texas, but there is no record of her ever having attended the school.”

“Are you sure?” Curt found it hard to believe that a woman as prominent as Dr. Forrester would lie about her education. Something like that could easily be discovered. “Could you have the year wrong, or perhaps she used a middle name.”

“I thought of all those…” Paul stopped when Hannah walked into the office with the tray of coffee. He surprised to see that Curt’s demeanor changed when his assistant walked into the room, almost as if he was frightened. He had always thought that Hannah and Curt enjoyed an enviable working relationship, but he was mistaken obviously, Paul thought. Not that he would ever say anything to Curt about it. He and Curt had a mutual respect for each other, but they were not what anyone would consider friends. “Thank you, Hannah.” Paul accepted the coffee from Hannah and returned her slight smile. He waited until the assistant had closed the door behind her before he continued.

“As I was saying, I thought of all those possibilities, but to no avail. There has never been a Taylor Hamilton at the University of Texas.” Paul finished emphatically.

“Well, you are right about one thing. The client will be very interested in this development.” Curt found it hard to believe that the good doctor had lied about her educational background. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes, much more in fact.” Paul answered cagily.

***

Michael Tillman watched as Jared looked up from the papers in front of him to the doorway expectedly. Almost from the moment they arrived at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Jared was on edge. Michael could see it in his stance as they settled into the small conference room that had been booked for the meeting.

Helping him self to a cup of coffee that had been provided, along with a continental breakfast, Michael was surprised at how anxious Jared was about the meeting. “Do you think Miss Logan will agree to your last minute stipulation?” Michael asked, wanting to break the tension.

“She would be a fool not to, and if all that I have read and heard about Brooke Logan is true, she is nobody’s fool.”

Michael could hear the admiration in Jared’s tone. Despite having a personal interest in the CEO of Forrester, it was apparent that Jared admired her business acumen as well.

“There is no doubt that Miss Logan’s tenure as CEO has benefited Forrester’s greatly, but your codicil to the original agreement will be a hard sell.” Michael knew why Jared had made the change, but he worried that his friend had lost perspective in his quest to become personally acquainted with Miss Logan. “You’re not worried that this will be a deal breaker, are you?” Michael continued.

“No, I’m not. It only makes sense that I would want certain conditions met, after all, I will be investing millions in this project.” Jared spoke stoically.

Michael could remind Jared that he often invested millions in various project, but rarely did he involve himself personality in those businesses. Normally, Jared would buy up an ailing company, streamline it and make it viable again and sell it at it an inordinate of amount of money. He wondered if Jared realized just how differently he was handling this project. Although he was worried for his friend, Michael could not help but look forward to the meeting between Jared and Miss Logan. It should be interesting, he thought.

***

Curt watched as Paul casually sipped his coffee. He was still reeling from the news he learned earlier. He found it almost impossible to believe that the notable world famous Dr. Taylor Hamilton Hayes Forrester was all a lie.

“So, you say you have more information about Dr. Forrester. Paul?” Curt said, unable to hide his impatience.

“Yes, there is more.” Paul placed the empty cup and saucer on the tray that Hannah had left on Curt’s desk.

“Do I have to beat it out of you?” Curt snapped.

“Of course not”, Paul laughed. It wasn’t often that one had Curt at a disadvantage. “As you can imagine, I was shocked when I could not locate any record of Dr. Forrester having attended the University of Texas.

“I can see how that could be very frustrating to someone like you, Paul.” Curt rarely did field work these days, but he could remember the brick walls he himself had run into. “You must have found out something or you wouldn’t be sitting here with that shit eating grin on your face.”

“I found something alright and in a most unexpected place. After spending another unproductive day searching the school’s files for the second time, I decided to stop for something to eat and a drink in a bar and grill near the campus...”

Austin, TX

One Week Earlier

“Did you come here to work or to eat, hon?” Paul looked up from the laptop that he had opened up on the table soon after sitting down. Even in the face of the most annoying case he could recall, the waitress’ Texas twang brought a smile to his face. He took the menu that she held out for him. When he looked up to thank her, he was surprised to find that she was older than he expected a waitress in this place would be.

Her long hair, once blond now mostly grey, was held back with a black scrunchie. Though he guessed her to be in her sixty, her skin was smooth, except for a few lines around her eyes that told of a woman quick to smile. She wore a pair of tattered well worn jeans and a paisley blouse that clearly belonged in another era. She looked out of place in the restaurant, which was really not much more than a bar and grill. The close proximity to the university ensured that the place was filled with young people eager to drink the inexpensive beer and sample the simple, but good food offered at reasonable prices.

“Both I guess.” Paul said. Quickly looking at the menu, he knew exactly what he wanted. “I’ll have the Texas Burger, medium rare and whatever beer you have on tap.”

“You got it hon. My name is Gloria if you need anything else, ok?” Paul handed the menu back to the waitress and he watched as she walked away from his table. He smiled as she stopped to say something to a group of obvious students sitting at a table closest to his. Whatever she said had them laughing in her wake.

Looking down at the laptop once more, Paul was angry at the frustration he felt. Angry, but he also experienced the adrenaline that coursed through his body whenever he was investigating something or someone. For him, it was all about the chase. He loved rooting around in files and digging into people’s background. He supposed that some would find that strange, but he had known for a long time before he became a private detective, that it was something he wanted to do.

Deciding to keep working until his meal arrived, Paul accessed the file that he downloaded when he was first handed the assignment to investigate Taylor Forrester’s past. He looked at the photograph that was included in the dossier. He had to admit that Taylor Forrester was a very beautiful woman. ‘But, who are you really?’ Paul silently asked the picture. His reverie was broken when Gloria placed a tall frosty glass of beer on the table in front of him.

“Here you go. Hope this takes your mind off work for a while.” She said kindly, almost motherly.

Paul gave a small laugh. “I doubt one would be enough, but thank you ma’am.” In Texas less than a week and he was already talking like one, Paul thought.

“You sound a little put out there, hon.” Curious, Gloria looked down at the table and the file that lay opened next to the laptop. Working so near the college, she was used to seeing students studying, but this man was no student. If she had to guess, she would say he was a cop. No, not a cop, Gloria revised quickly. She recognized quality when she saw it and there was no way a cop could afford to dress like the man sitting at the table.

“I’m just tired, I guess.” Paul admitted.

“I can understand that. Looks like you have your work cut out for you.” Gloria tried to make out what was on the computer screen, but from her angle, she could not see it clearly. Shifting her eyes to the opened file, Gloria gasped in surprise when she saw the familiar face starring back at her. Although the features of the face were similar, the hair coloring was different, the lips fuller, Gloria thought.

Paul heard the waitress’ gasp and looked up her. He saw that she was looking intently at the photo of Dr. Forrester. “Do you know her?” Paul asked eagerly.

Gloria hesitated a moment. Her natural inclination was to be reticent with people she didn’t know. Although she had already decided that the well dressed man was not a cop, she wasn’t sure what or who he was. She decided it best to trend lightly.

“She looks familiar”, Gloria admitted cagily.

Paul had been doing detective work a long time, and he knew when someone was hiding something or outright lying to him. The waitress recognized Dr. Forrester; he would stake his reputation on it.

“Do you know this woman”, Paul asked once more.

“What did she do?” Gloria countered with a question of her own.

Paul took a deep breath. He had come up against people like Gloria before. She did not want to give him any unnecessary information. For some reason, the waitress was compelled to protect Dr. Forrester, which was another reason he was convinced that she knew Taylor Forrester. Deciding that the truth would not do in this case, Paul decided to blatantly lie to the older woman.

“She didn’t do anything. She is missing and her family hired my firm to find her.” Paul told the lie easily.

“Oh my, the poor woman. Her family must be worried.” Gloria sympathized, her hand covering her heart. “Does she have kids?”

“Yes, she has three daughters. The oldest is only nine. Her husband is quite anxious to find her.” Paul said, his voice dripping with sincerity.

“Well, I can certainly understand that.” Gloria hesitated for only a moment. “Why makes you think she’d come here?”

“We don’t know where she would go, but we thought looking in her past would give us some clues as to where Dr. Forrester had gone?” Paul hoped all these lies would help with his stymied investigation.

“A doctor?” Gloria was impressed. “I knew Laurie was smart, but I had no idea that she had become a doctor.” The words came out in a rush with her excitement.

Paul nearly jumped out of his chair and it took everything in him to remain seated and not pounce on the unsuspecting Gloria. Counting to five, he didn’t think he’d make to ten; Paul took in several deep breaths.

“Do you remember, ah Laurie from when she attended school?” Paul tried to make the question as innocuous as possible.

“Yes, who could forget her? She was one of the nice ones, just as kind as she was beautiful.” Gloria hesitated a moment. She looked down at the still beautiful Laurie, but there was something different about her. “Why did she color her hair? She had such gorgeous blond hair”.

“I…I, don’t know. When I got the assignment to find her, no one mentioned that she was a blond before.” Lying again to the waitress, Paul could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s too bad. Her hair was so beautiful, not that she isn’t still beautiful from the looks of this picture. I hope you find her, Mister. Laurie Marks was very special, and if she became a doctor, then that means that her other job didn’t stop her from getting what she wanted.”

Before Paul could ask her what other job the waitress was referring to, someone at the next table called out to her and she walked away before he could find the words to ask anything. Outwardly, nothing had changed about his demeanor. No one could hear his heart racing or see his brain working overtime. Only he knew what had just landed in his lap and the adrenalin pumping through his body as never before made him higher than any drug or drink could. Taking a deep sip of the surprisingly good beer, Paul rubbed his hands in anticipation when Gloria sat his burger and fries in front of him. He returned the smile she gave him.

Present...

"So, are you telling me that Dr. Taylor Hamilton doesn't exist?" Curt was incredulous.

"I am telling you no such thing. She exists alright, but so does Laurie Marks."

"What the hell does that mean?" Curt was quickly growing impatient with Paul.

"Well, if you will be patient, I'll tell you the whole sordid story" Paul promised with a grin.


Coming next: Brooke and Jared meet and sparks fly. Taylor's shocking past will be revealed.