Page 19 of Choose Me

"You didn't tell me that you were the one heading this case," I said as he lunged forward and embraced me, slapping my back hard and laughing heartily.

"I didn't know you were coming until about five minutes ago. I am just as surprised as you. But first, how the hell are you, man?" He released me from his embrace and stepped back, fixing me with an intense gaze.

"I'm good man. Really good, actually. We have a lot to catch up on."

"After the briefing, let's catch up over dinner," he boomed and gestured toward the chair to his right.

I took a seat at the table, my eyes flicking over the faces of the agents present. I recognized a few throughout the last eight years of training and fieldwork, but most were new to me. I could feel their eyes on me, assessing me, weighing my worthiness to be a part of this operation.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Brock's deep voice broke the loud chatter in the room. "For those who don't know me, I am Agent Brock Wheeler, and I will be your lead and liaison for Operation Hitchcock."

He slid a tower of perfectly stacked files in front of me, the scarlet manila folders nearly falling off the table. I grabbed the top one and passed it to the next person. He waited until everyone had a file in front of them before continuing as he clicked a button on the remote in his hand, and the screen flickered to life with Margaret Callahan's photo--burnished brown tresses, sharp bob cut, her eyes like dark pools; not merely haunting, but something else lurked within them, something I'd seen elsewhere in Benjamin's eyes the night he came for Ava.

A chill ran through my veins.

"Margaret Callahan, age 30, and sister to serial killer Benjamin Callahan, also known as The Skinner, who was just recently caught and killed in Oregon, thanks to Agent Buchanan here." Brock gestured in my direction. "At the age of fifteen, her father was murdered by her brother, Benjamin, after he found out that their father had been raping Margaret since she was three years old. Margaret ended up pregnant and gave birth to her father's child shortly after his murder. Due to her age at the time of the baby's birth, the state took custody of her child, and the baby was adopted by a nice family capable of giving the baby girl a normal life away from incest, murder, and insanity."

A picture of a young couple flashed across the screen. The young, blonde woman cradled a chubby baby, and the man stared lovingly at the baby's face.

"Margaret located her child and took it upon herself to break in and kidnap her and went on the run, but not before murdering the child's new parents."

He clicked to another slide, and the young couple in the photo, with faces full of happiness, was replaced with a gruesome image of two brutally mutilated bodies strewn across a bed. Margaret's wrath was unleashed in a wild frenzy of carnage. She hacked and slashed, butchering the victims with no mercy. The woman's head had been nearly detached from her neck, while the man's eyes had been ripped from his skull and placed in his mouth like some macabre joke. Blood and gore pooled around them, obscuring their once-light blue sheets in a crimson red--almost black stain. The sheer amount of mutilation resembled a grizzly bear attack with large gashes, exposed flesh, and organs strewn across the bed--faces unrecognizable in a fit of rage and instability.

The room was silent, every agent shocked at the scene before them. It was one thing to talk about such violence, but to see the extreme level of it on the screen was unfathomable.

"Margaret was located, and the baby was safely recovered and put into protective custody while Margaret stood trial for first-degree murder. She was convicted but was deemed mentally insane by the state and sentenced to incarceration at St. Mary's Institute for Criminally Insane, and has since remained there until a month ago when she was informed of her beloved brother's death. She had a psychotic break and murdered two nurses, a security guard for the facility, and an elderly lady whose car she stole."

The slide changed again, showing her recent victims.

"Since then, she has been on the run, but based on some CCTV footage, we believe she is still in the area, hiding out. So, clearly, the question on everyone's mind is, how in the hell are we going to catch this woman? We know she's clever, intelligent, and obviously unstable, cold-blooded, and dangerous. The New York office was kind enough to send Agent Buchanan down to assist us as he was the one that ended Margaret's brother's reign of terror in Oregon. He has first-hand knowledge and can provide invaluable details about the psychological interworking of her flesh and blood, which may explain her motives and where she may go. So please give him the same respect and courtesy you would give me," Brock said as he looked at the faces of the agents.

The agents in the room studied the file carefully, silently jotting down notes and questions as they read. Brock cleared his throat and continued. "We are currently trying to track down any relatives or friends who might be hiding her and figure out what her next move is. She should be considered armed and extremely dangerous, and we have issued a statement to the press warning civilians to be on the lookout and exercise extreme caution if they do see her. The plan, as always, is to bring her in without incident and before she can kill anyone else. You can find the op plan and relevant details in the file in front of you. Review the file and report any questions or concerns directly to me. Let's get her off the street as soon as possible," he said sternly with an undertone of hope in his voice.

11

ELEVEN

JAMES

The room thrummed with frenetic energy as Brock nodded, conveying the profundity of his words, each syllable reverberating throughout the space. I sprung to my feet, quickly following Brock to his office, where he shut the door with a thunderous slam, drowning out the clamor of noise beyond the threshold.

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, tell me, what have you been up to for the past eight months," Brock exclaimed boisterously. "Great job on The Skinner case, by the way."

"Thanks, brother. It was definitely a long time coming. But who knew that fucker had a sister equally as psychotic as him. I vaguely remember reading something about her, but honestly, there wasn't much in the file because she wasn't a factor. She played no part in his obsession with Ava, but I still feel terrible that I didn't explore their history more extensively. Maybe I could have helped identify something that would have kept her from killing those four innocent victims."

"Don't beat yourself up. There's no way you could have known or predicted, even, that she would escape from St. Mary's. There's nothing anyone could have done differently. At this point, the only thing we can do is focus on apprehending her and closing this case before she murders anyone else."

I nodded in agreement, yet I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Would Margaret have even tried to escape if I hadn't killed her brother? Would the four people she killed still be alive if she did not receive the news of his death? There was no turning back now, but I hoped we could close the case so I could get back to Ava and move on from this never-ending Callahan-sibling nightmare, which now felt like it would never end.

"Why don't we get dinner and have a drink, and you can tell me all about Oregon? There's a fantastic Cuban spot not far from here." Brock seemed to notice my waning attention span and offered a reprieve of food and drinks--a chance to unwind after a long day. I gratefully accepted his offer, and a half hour later, we were sitting at a quiet booth in the corner of a brightly-colored restaurant. The walls were painted in rich burnt orange and vermillion, and around the outside edge of each wall were intricate murals of a palm tree oasis peeking around the rough corners. As I perused the menu, the sweet, savory scent of roasted pork and spices teased my nostrils. We ordered a round of mojitos and some empanadas to start, and I settled in, listening to the clang of glasses and plates and the muffle of soft conversation, drowned by the Cuban music in the speakers.

"So, Oregon," Brock started, his tone heavy with implication."How was it?"

"All things considered, it was great," I responded, taking a big bite of an empanada.

My words were met with a skeptical look from Brock, but he persevered."And Ava, what about her?"

I froze and looked up at him in surprise but then chuckled, realizing that the rumor mill had made its way down to Miami. "How did you know?"

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