Kyle Mills - Burn Factor

KYLE MILLS

BURN
FACTOR

The combination of the tall wooden fence surrounding them and the trees spreading out above filtered enough street light to turn everything to shadow. The cold wasnt deep enough to penetrate Brad Lowells jacket as he stood patiently at the base of the steps, waiting. Until the quiet click of the door opening and the gentle rush of warm air that followed, the most overwhelming impression was the scent of accumulating dew.

Lowell looked around him one more time as his people moved cautiously into the house and fanned out in a practiced pattern. The small backyard was completely still. It was just after four A.M. and a good two hours before this generic suburban neighborhood would begin to stir. He wished he had more time, but there was little he could do about that now.

The only light on insidecoming from the living room, he assumedwent dark as he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He dug a penlight from his pocket and switched it on, briefly illuminating a man running up the stairs on rubber-soled shoes.

Were clear. Blinds are down, came a voice through the tiny microphone nestled in Lowells right ear. He shaded his eyes as he started for the second floor, dulling the glare of the lights being turned on throughout the house.

One of his men was already busy in the bedroom, sifting through the contents of drawers and shelves with gloved hands and practiced efficiency. There was nothing unusual or suspicious about the room, as Lowell had known there wouldnt be. The bed in the center was covered with a floral quilt that matched the dust ruffle perfectly. Stuffed animals seemed to have migrated off it as the rooms occupant had aged, but hadnt made it farthey were lined up neatly on a shelf built into the wall.

The man searching the room started in on the closet, carefully pulling shoe boxes from a stack on the floor and removing the top from each. When he paused and glanced back over his shoulder, Lowell let his expression go blank, effectively hiding the rage, frustration, and fear building inside him. As long as he was in command, he had to remain passiveto project at least the illusion of control.

I dont think were going to find anything here, sir.

But were going to look, arent we? Lowell responded.

Yes, sir.

Lowell descended the stairs, listening to the quiet rustling of the rest of his team as they moved efficiently around the living room. There was a barely perceptible break in their rhythm when he entered, acknowledging his presence. By the time hed taken a position along the back wall, though, he seemed to have already been forgotten.

The womans body was spread-eagled on a large plastic dropcloth in the middle of the floor next to a bloody industrial apron and two used condoms. Her wrists had been wired to the sofa with coat hangers and her feet were similarly bound to either side of a heavy-looking bookcase.

She had once been prettyLowell could still see it in her unmarked face. The full lips parted just enough to expose dry white teeth, the long auburn hair spread out beneath her head, the blue eyes fixed on the ceiling above her. He moved a little closer and crouched. If he hadnt already known the woman would be in her mid-to late twenties, her age would have been almost impossible to estimate. Her naked body had the graceful curves and undefined muscle tone of youth, but the sleek lines of her were distorted by countless razor-thin cuts crisscrossing her skin. A few were still wetshocking red streaks in the uniform dull brown of dried blood that covered her and much of the black plastic she was lying on. The flesh seemed to hang a little too loosely on her dead face, hinting at the hours of agony she had endured before finally giving up and slipping away.

When Lowell finally stood, he saw that the young man in front of him was frozen. He was holding a powerful vacuum used for collecting evidence, but his knuckles had turned white around the handle and his stare was fixed on the body.

Is there a problem, Mr. Geller? Lowell kept his voice steady, matter-of-fact. The kid was new and sure as hell had never seen anything like this before. While the reaction was understandable, it couldnt be tolerated.

No, sir, Geller replied, still staring dumbly at what was left of the young woman at his feet.

Then get to work, son.

Lowell felt a hand on his shoulder as the muted whine of the vacuum started and the young man began carefully running it over the carpet around the body. He turned and started toward the hallway, followed by another one of his men.

Who was she, John? Lowell said when they reached the kitchen.

Her name was Mary Dunnigan, sir. He laid a leather purse and day planner down on the dining table. She was twenty-six years old and some kind of economic analyst working for a private company in D.C. Theres nothing showing on her calendar for tomorrow or the weekend. I found a number of pictures of her with the same young man, though they cover a lot of years and Im guessing that hes a relativeprobably her brother. No messages on her machine He let his voice trail off, obviously finished.

Thats it?

For the moment, yes, sir. We

An angry wave of Lowells hand silenced the man. This is what happens when things get fucked up, John. Right?

Yes, sir.

Another wave of his hand and the man gratefully scurried off toward the living room to help his colleagues.

Lowell touched his forehead and his fingers came back soaked with perspiration. This whole situation was fucked. Dawn was two hours away and he was standing in a nice, neat, middle-class house, in a nice, neat, middle-class neighborhood, with the shredded body of a well-educated, well-employed young woman. It was getting harder and harder to imagine how things could get any worse.

Lowell used his sleeve to wipe away the sweat bleeding from his hairline and went back into the living room, where two of his men were using pliers to detach the corpse from the furniture.

Are we ready? A womans voice.

Lowell turned to face Susan Prescott as she entered the room. She was wearing a wig of long dark hair and had changed into a pair of slacks and a casual blouse from the victims closet. The fit wasnt perfect, but it wasnt bad either. Lowell had chosen Prescott for this detail on the basis of her height and build as much as for her ruthless efficiency.

Ive got pretty much everything from the bathroom and enough of her clothes and shoes to make it obvious, she continued, adjusting the suitcase in her right hand. She had three months worth of birth control pills in the medicine cabinet. I took them all.

Lowell looked down at the two men kneeling on the floor. They had freed the victims hands and feet and were struggling to overcome the onset of rigor mortis and push the womans legs together. Did you find any other meds, John?

He shook his head as he secured a strap around the womans ankles and yanked it tight. I went through the other two bathrooms, her nightstand, and the kitchen. Nothing prescription. I think were okay.

Lowell focused on the younger man again as he helped wrap the woman in the plastic she was lying on, taking care not to let any still-wet blood flow onto the carpet. His face had taken on a noticeable pallor and his jaw was quivering dangerously.

Geller, Lowell said.

He didnt seem to hear.

Geller! Lowell didnt actually raise his voice from the muted volume made necessary by their situation, but the intensity of his tone got the young mans attention.

Are you going to be sick?