Strategy Murders

STRATEGY MURDERS

J. L. Bircher

Copyright © 2015 by J. L. Bircher.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015910529

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-5035-8270-5

                 Softcover         978-1-5035-8269-9

                 eBook               978-1-5035-8268-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 07/10/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

718008

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Preface

After setting her oven temperature to 450 degrees to heat a TV dinner, Candy walked to the kitchen window to unlock and open it, but she found it was already unlocked and opened about an inch. Ah, yes, followed the memory that she had opened it while using the oven that morning. In her haste to prepare her breakfast before going to work as a cook with Howard General Hospital, she had apparently forgotten to close it. She wondered how it would affect her gas bill by leaving her window open all day with gas heating. In her small house, heat from the oven escalates the temperature unbearably in the normally comfortable kitchen.

Thinking about her boyfriend of one month today, she was oblivious to the shadow lurking in the hallway. Candy closed her eyes against the brightness of the continuous lightning flashing outside her kitchen window and waited for the thunder that is supposed to follow it. She opened her eyes to turn away from the window but did not have the opportunity to turn around. A sweet-smelling cloth is placed over her nose and mouth, and the last thing she would ever see is the reflection in the window of the face of the man who violently took her life.

Police Chief Warren Baxter and all off-duty officers were called to the scene at 1700 Wabash Street in Kokomo, Indiana, while the on-duty officers continued their regular patrol. It was 6:55 p.m. when Chief Baxter had received a phone call at the precinct. The voice was muffled, so he wasn’t able to tell if it was a female or male caller. Had a great time tonight! Go to Candy Reed’s and see how much fun I had. Then he heard the click that ended the call. The recorded voice was run through the diagnostic testing, and the gender was established as male. This was the third time a call of this nature had been received, and the first two had led to two crime scenes no human being should have to see.

Chief Baxter ran the MO through every crime database nationally, hoping to locate similarities in any other cases that had gone unsolved. No hits were received on the information. He realized the local authorities would need further assistance and decided it was time to contact the FBI.

Chapter 1

Barbi Taylor secretly watched the handsome man sleeping in one of the first-class seats. Even with his necktie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, he looked immaculate in the navy blue suit he wore. Her eyes wandered the length of his semi-stretched-out form, noting that his shoes were made of fine leather. The crystal-blue eyes she had looked into when he had boarded the plane were framed with thick lashes. He wore his silvering black hair cut short but attractively. His physique was hidden by his suit, but her continuous contact with male passengers gave her the experience she needed to determine that he was physically fit. The tan on his face and hands indicated he liked to be outdoors.

She thought about her own physical appearance and felt comfortable with the way her thirty-five-year-old body was shaped. Many stares were sent in her direction, and it was her choice not to do anything about them. From the time she had begun to develop into womanhood, her body was shapely, with curves in all the right places. Men had sent her appreciative stares all her life. Some had even whistled as she walked by, which she had always ignored.

Her mind wondered back to the one time she did do something with a stare in her direction. Of all places, Kevin appeared at the grocery store. They had arrived at the same time and went through the door with grocery carts almost side by side. He went the same direction as she did and picked out the same items she was picking out. Trying to pretend he was not there proved to be too much of a challenge for Barbi, so she turned down the greeting cards aisle. A discreet glance behind her saw that he had not followed. In a way, she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t followed her. He was kind of cute.

Sighing, she had walked slowly toward the other end of the aisle. When she reached the end, she ran her cart right into a cart coming around the corner, and their eyes met. Neither was able to turn away. In what seemed like minutes but had only been seconds, he smiled at her and apologized. At her smile and nod of acceptance, he said, No, I am not sorry. I ran into you on purpose so I could ask you to have dinner with me tonight.

That was ten years ago. She had spent five years taking his physical and mental abuse before her sister, Mindy, had stepped in and had tried to force her to press charges against Kevin. Mindy was the only one who had known about the abuse. She had continually badgered Barbi about filing charges and insisted on taking pictures when Barbi appeared several times with bruises, burns, and cuts all over her body. It was the cigarette burns that were particularly painful.

But Mindy had known what to do. She had purchased a bottle of vitamin E oil, and Barbi applied it every night to all of the cuts and burns. Only one scar resulted from the abuse—the one when Kevin had tied her down and pressed an entire lit cigarette over and over on the same spot located under her left breast. She still could not understand why, but it didn’t matter now. She never had to be in the presence of Kevin Spencer again. He had disappeared after that horrible night, and she had not seen or heard from him since.

The man on this flight, she suspected, would never do to her the things that Kevin had done. He would do other things to her, things that would give her pleasure. Staring, now she envisioned those tanned hands on her breasts ever so gently. One would continue to massage the nipple of one breast, while the other would travel slowly downward, hesitating only long enough to unzip the pants of her uniform. As he would look into her eyes, he would see them change color in passion as he slipped his hand under the waistband of her panties and …

Barbi brought her mind back to the present with a jolt. Embarrassed by her thoughts, she watched the handsome man for another few seconds and then turned to prepare for landing. She had tried to discreetly let him know she was interested by giving him what she had hoped was a flirtatious smile. But he was not interested; she could tell that by his demeanor, and she was not one to push herself on anyone. Her self-respect had returned after many counseling sessions, and she now knew it was better to be alone than to risk another abusive relationship. Her vacation to Jamaica was confirmed, and she was relying on this time away to find herself as a person, to see if she could find what it was that she needed to be happy.

Chapter 2

He was the agent in charge and was told by the local authorities in Howard County, Indiana, that the FBI was needed to assist in a series of gruesome murders. Leaving his home in Washington DC, the comfort of his bed at midnight, and his latest female companion, Alicia, proved to be a very unwelcome intrusion for FBI Agent Josh Nicholson. She had looked at him in disbelief as he grabbed a pen and began to write instructions down on the notepad he kept by the phone. "Surely you aren’t leaving right now, are you?" she had asked as he was hanging up the phone.

He saw the anger begin to burn in her eyes as he answered, Yes, I have to leave immediately. I am very sorry. She had jumped off the bed with surprising agility for a woman of fifty-three years. Her heels and nylons were in a chair sitting by the front door. These were the first items to be removed almost before Josh had closed the door. Clothing that had been on the floor where it had landed during their passionate walk toward the bedroom was now in her hands. How the items had gotten there, she had no idea.

She closed her eyes and remembered how distant Josh had been while they were having sex. He didn’t love her—that she already knew. Even their first time together was nothing to brag about. Josh had just gone through the motions while she had been thoughtless in experiencing numerous orgasms. It amazed her that he had known what to do to give her pleasure while he appeared not to care about his release. Even her attempt to make love to his manhood proved futile. Other men had said her massaging and technique was the best they had ever had, but Josh was unaffected.

Her mind was in a fog of misery, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Alicia knew that this would be the last time she would ever see or hear from Josh. She also realized that she had fallen in love with him and was furious with herself for having allowed that to happen. This anger at herself served to give her the backbone to tell Josh how she felt about him.

Spinning around to head back and confront Josh, she had spun right into him. He had followed her so she would not have the opportunity to return to the bedroom. I can’t believe you are doing this to me again, Josh! Surely you can wait to leave in a few hours? she asked in a whiny tone.

Josh put his hand up to interrupt her flow of words. Look, this is my job. And, frankly, I am disappointed that you are only thinking of yourself at the moment. Maybe you should try thinking about the victims and their families! Thinking this comment would shame her, instead it seemed to infuriate her further.

"Fine! If that is how you anticipate our relationship to be, you can think again! I am not the kind of woman that will sit back with nothing to do days on end waiting for you to return, if you should return! You have to know that I