The Collector's Protégé

Glenn Rehder

Description

The Face Collector killer is still out there, and he’s moved to a small town in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, facing off against a new sheriff and an old adversary.

Danny Sardano, newly elected Sheriff of Tuolumne County, has achieved his lifelong goal. As a third generation resident in this rural community in the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains, his life seems perfect. Then, a serial killer decides to move from his hunting grounds in Tennessee to Sardano’s jurisdiction—a move that turns this normally peaceful tourist destination into Danny’s worst nightmare.

The serial killer is known as the Face Collector and preys on women with auburn hair. Former FBI agent Leonard Baskem’s life has been upturned in the hunt for this mysterious killer. He has no doubt that the Face Collector is still out there, walking around a free man, but many twists and turns lie in wait as he searches for the old murderer and a kid protégé.

The new sheriff decides he can’t solve this case with the resources the county has available, so he calls on an old friend from the FBI. Now, a horror, decades in the making, descends on a small town. Who will come out the victor in a battle already scripted and crafted by the murderer?

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Archway Publishing
• Date de parution: 17 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665722117
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

THE COLLECTOR’S PROTÉGÉ

GLENN REHDER


Copyright © 2022 Glenn Rehder.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®
 
ISBN: 978-1-6657-2212-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-2210-0 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-2211-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022907211
 
 
 
Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/18/2022
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Afterword
About The Author
CHAPTER

ONE
An oracle is within my heart
    concerning the sinfulness of the wicked:
There is no fear of God
    before his eyes.
For in his own eyes, he flatters himself
    too much to detect or hate his own sin.
The words of his mouth are wicked and deceitful;
    he has ceased to be wise and do good.
Even on his bed he plots evil;
    he commits himself to an evil course
and does not reject what is wrong.
Psalm 36: 1-4 NIV
 
I t was one in the morning. He sat half asleep in his fully extended recliner, his bare feet resting over its edge. A watered-down glass of bourbon was held loosely in his right hand, weary enough now to think about his bed. He set the glass down on the end table amid dusty glass rings from bourbons gone by. The ice had melted long ago, but he made sure he got the whiskey down his throat before it did.
Struggling he managed to lower the recliner with a loud clunk. He rose and pushed his tired body until he was on his feet. His eyes were slits like quarter moons. The bedroom just down the hall seemed as far away as the goal posts he used to run toward as a tight end for Kentucky State. Somehow, he maneuvered the hall and into the room, where he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed.
A loud peal of thunder hit, no distant rumblings as a pre warning, at least none he had heard. After his eyes blinked open the sound continued to rumble throughout the house like a five-engine freight train at the Main Street crossing.
At first, he was back in Desert Storm, and then he flashed back to getting sandwiched between two defensive backs helmet to helmet, concussed on the twenty-yard line.
A second later, Baskem’s body shivered awake, he sat up with his heart pounding out of his chest. His right hand instinctively went for the Glock that was nowhere on his naked body. His left hand reached out to check on Emma, only to feel cold sheets on her empty side of the bed.
More seconds passed then he realized it was another bad dream, did he really hear thunder? There could have been no other sound, he was alone in the house. Alone in the house he once shared with his college sweetheart Emma and his two teenaged boys.
The meds his doctor prescribed worked to subdue his visions during the daytime hours but had no impact on the vehement nightmares that ruled his restless nights.
All the faces, he continued to see them all. All eleven faces framed in auburn hair. His mind rehearsed each photo focusing on the removal of a trophy piece. Different on each victim, carved off or out with a certain methodical precision. The victims beauty being turned into a grotesque image.
As he sat sweating in the cold dark room their names were all scrolling through his mind. Every date, every location, all the evidence, all the clues. And as weird as it seemed to him even at this moment, the redolence at each scene. He could still smell each location with their distinct differences.
After all the years, months, and days he spent during those investigations it weighed heavy on his heart. With all his training, all he had learned from experience, he failed to figure it out. He couldn’t pin anything to any certain suspect. He couldn’t solve one of the most horrific serial murder cases in the Bureau’s history.
He shook his head, rubbed his face with his hands and finally was able to compress his anxiety. He swung out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He drew tap water into a glass and sipped it slowly. It tasted like iron as he took the tepid water onto his tongue, it reminded him of blood.
With all the curtains drawn throughout the house a dim light from the hallway slivered into the partially open bathroom door. It allowed him to see his muted reflection in the mirror. A reflection that he barely recognized. Once fastidious about his appearance the unshaven look that was sexy on some men made him look primitive. If he was honest with himself the reflection, he was looking at now was of a man he didn’t want to recognize.
The past four years had taken its toll on Leonard Baskem, psychologically and physically. He was asked to retire from the Bureau. That was what he told his family. But he was forced to retire early, losing the job that gave him purpose. The obsession with this case eventually cost him his family too.
They had decided, or at least Emma had decided, it would be better for him to have peace and solitude in their home until he could come to grips with all that was haunting him. She had become timorous to a point where she was afraid of him. His drinking, his distanced stares, it all had become too common. He was not violent but his demeaner made her fearful for her and her sons. Both who were old enough to know that things were not right with their dad.
What had pushed her further away were his dreams that had become a nightly occurrence. It caused her anxiety and sleepless nights. She started sleeping in the spare bedroom, still lying awake most nights. She began using sleeping pills, which she resented him for.
When the decision was made, she moved herself and the boys to her parents ranch outside of Boise. She told Leonard it was only temporary until things worked themselves out. They still spoke on the phone at least once a week. Emma wanted him to continue to have contact with Mark and Eric, hoping it would keep him grounded. She took the opportunities the calls presented to press him on his progress with his counselor.
Baskem was practiced at lying to her. With his psychological training he was able to describe his sessions and the progress he was making. He even invented the name of his therapist. One he knew she wouldn’t find anywhere online. Telling her it was a Bureau shrink, said his weekly sessions were giving him peace.
However, she still heard torment in his voice.
Being alone in the big house, his days were spent glued in front of his computer, searching the web for similar crimes throughout the country. With his background he knew what sites to check. On other days he sought out new insight and revelation. Driving from his house in Lexington Kentucky far into the Tennessee mountains, where the crimes had taken place. Crimes which the Bureau had now labeled cold cases.
Baskem was positive he had missed something, something that would have brought a heinous criminal to justice. There had to be new clues, something he might have missed earlier. Someone he hadn’t talked too, searching for that feeling. A sense he used to get in prior cases that gave him direction, and a suspect.
A few of the victim’s families were pleased to have him continue to investigate their loved ones death. He was still in contact with those families. Other families wanted to move on with their lives, those families considered Baskem a nuisance.
He was a haunted man, his soul needed restoration, but he was not a man of faith. He instinctively turned inward for strength. However, the confidence he once carried inside him had diminished t