Part of Chapter 3

First portion of chapter 3 in the novel.

Chapter Three: Kallan

FBI special agent Kallan Dale leaned back in his plush, leather seat, gazing intently out of the window on the side of his office to the street four stories below. Even from this height, he didn’t need to imagine the frenzied pace of traffic. There had been countless times in his career when he had counted himself lucky to be seated four stories above that chaos than to be located in it. But not today. Today, he gazed out the window in the hopes that somehow, someway, he could leave his office behind. Hell, leave the FBI behind, and live somewhere far, far away. But it wasn’t possible. Not yet, at least. 

“You have any idea what we’re dealing with, here, Dale?” Kal, as everybody called him, flicked his blue eyes to the face of his boss, Agent Levi Ross. On any other day, Kallan actually liked the man a great deal. He took no bull shit, didn’t bat an eye at chewing out an agent who was out of line, and generally did good work around the bureau. But that was any other day.

“Sir, I told you. I’ve been following this guy for almost two years, and he’s just too damn clean. I’ve got nothing, and the scrubs don’t find anything on the body or at the scene to point us in the right direction. He’s a ghost. He’s been a ghost for two years. What we’re dealing with is an unprecedented son of a bitch.” Ross bristled at this, but Kallan didn’t give two shits how the agent felt. He was tired of being chewed out on a bull shit, going nowhere case. “The only thing I know for certain is his M.O. He obviously takes women, all of the same average build, height, and features. Brown hair, green eyes, young. Smooth facial features, long wavy hair, natural tan hue. But there are no connections between victims, no obvious signs pointing to someone connected to each of them. Nothing. They’re simply all from a relatively close area, about a twelve mile radius involving Kansas City and the surrounding area. We can’t simply put out a bulletin warning women of a certain archetype to hunker down and seek shelter until this blows over. We don’t even know if this will blow over. The minute we send out warnings, the killer will up and leave, and any hope of following a trail will be cold. I’m telling you, sir, until something new comes through, I can’t make any headway in this case.”

Ross leaned forward, elbows on his knees as his fist supported the weight of his head. Staring straight back at his boss, Dale noted for the first time the way his lip curled back in contempt at the first sign of displeasure. His grey eyes were as hard to read as a tinted pair of glasses, made even harder by the strained look on his face. “Are you telling me you can’t do your job, Special Agent Dale?”

Dale threw his arms upwards in exasperation. “Jesus, Levi, you know damn well no one could do my job! I’m tired of this bureaucratic bull you’re always pulling. Your strong man lectures might work on some of the younger guys, but I’ve been here a while longer, and a few tough words aren’t going to coax a magical solution out of my ass to end this case. What I’m telling you, sir,” Dale was drifting into dangerous territory, here he knew, sneering his words with a snarl, “is that I’m not going to be of any use to this department unless you get me on a different case. Nothing’s doing on this one.”